Hooray! The last full chapter!

Sunday, October 13th, 2008

Bahamian Airspace

For once, Dean wasn't dreaming. That was a good thing. Something was wrong with his body. His first guess would be exhaustion. His mind felt numbly blank, but he could still recall running himself ragged before passing out. Although passing out wasn't the ideal way to recover, Dean was going to take what he could get. Besides, this was pleasant. All he could see was black. He couldn't feel any tension in his body. Most importantly, he wasn't being forced to watch an angel tearfully declare his love for him. As long as he wasn't being put through that, everything was good.

Until Castiel's face suddenly consumed his vision. If he had been able to, Dean would have jumped back, screaming at the top of his lungs. The fact that he couldn't only added to the creepiness.

Castiel's face was directly in front of his. So much so that Dean was certain their noses would be touching if he could feel his nose. The proximity made Dean feel uncomfortable in more ways than one and the fact that he couldn't back away just made it worse. Dean heard his voice saying "Cas, man, personal space!" even though he couldn't feel his mouth move. Castiel frowned and his brow furrowed in a way that felt familiar.

"My name is Castiel," he said. "Not Casman."

Dean really wished he could roll his eyes. However, it seemed that his vision was frozen to remain on the angel.

"Not the point! Get out of my face!" Castiel's expression remained unchanged.

"I'm not in your face," he said. "This is a dream."

"Yeah, I've got that," Dean said. "But all I can see is your face! It's creepy, man! Just back off a bit!"

For a moment, it seemed like Castiel still hadn't understood. However, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, Cas had moved further away. In addition to his face, Dean could now see his neck, shoulders, and upper torso. With a neutral tone and expression, he asked "is this better?" If he could have, Dean would have let out a breath of relief.

"Much," he said. "Why'd you have to get so close in the first place?"

"You weren't dreaming," Castiel explained. "Normally when I dream walk, I insert my visage into whatever scenario the dreamer has already created. Since you weren't dreaming, I just appeared within your mind's eye. The proximity was entirely in your control."

Dean… Didn't know what to make of that. Instead, he found himself asking. "You do this sort of thing often?"

"Not with humans," Cas said. "Occasionally I've visited the dreams of my father's other creations. The common garden slug tends to have particularly interesting ones."

Dean didn't know what to make of that either. This time, he figured it would just be better to cut to the chase.

"Look, what do you want?"

Castiel's posture seemed to straighten up a bit.

"I've come to thank you, Dean," he said. "Your actions over the course of this night prevented a seal from being broken – one that we didn't know Lilith was going to go after in the first place. All of Heaven is indebted to you."

For a moment, Dean wasn't sure what Cas was talking about. Then, he remembered what the demon possessing Hannah had said at the start of all this.

"Two-hundred souls lost to the water and another seal broken."

Dean and Sam hadn't had time to think about what that really meant other than the immediate threat – that the ship sinking was meant to kill the passengers onboard. Now that he had the time to really think about it, Dean wondered what it really meant.

"What was that?" he found himself asking. "What seal were they trying to break?"

"It's a rather obscure seal," Castiel admitted. "And one that's relatively harder to break. It essentially involves making a sacrifice of two-hundred souls in the Devil's Triangle in the days before an Aries moon."

The words "devil's triangle" made Dean's heart drop.

"Devil's triangle?" he questioned.

"Yes," Castiel said.

"Like, two guys and a girl?" Cas appeared confused.

"I don't understand." Dean wished he could frown.

"When two guys and a girl have sex?" he spelled out more explicitly. "A devil's triangle?" That still didn't spark any sort of recognition in Castiel.

"What does copulation have to do with the Devil's Triangle?" Dean realized he was going to have to be blunt.

"When two guys and a girl have sex, it's called a 'devil's triangle,'" he explained. "Is that what started all of this?" Castiel frowned.

"No," he said. "It has nothing to do with sexual intercourse. The Devil's Triangle is a focal point for dark energies and magic. Most of the area it covers is underwater, so for most of your history it hasn't caused too many problems. However, in recent years as the human populace has expanded west, there's been an increase in disappearances and strange phenomena."

Dean was puzzled for a few moments before it finally occurred to him what he might be talking about.

"You mean the Bermuda Triangle."

The Bermuda Triangle is an area of the Atlantic Ocean whose boundaries extend from the islands of Bermuda, down to the Floridian coast, and all the way out to Puerto Rico. The area was indeed known for strange disappearances and phenomena dating as far back as Columbus's exploration of the West Indies. However, as far as Dean knew, the whole thing had been a hoax. It was made up by some hack author in the fifties to sell books, and Columbus had been off his rocker anyway. That was the general consensus of the hunting community. Even Dean's own father had been dismissive of the idea.

"It's a load of horse shit," John Winchester had said. "People just want an easy explanation for what they don't understand. Sure, maybe a few of them are our kind of thing, but the rest? Nah, too convenient."

As it turned out, John Winchester was completely wrong. Because Dean had a real Angel of the Lord telling him different.

"Yes," Castiel said with a nod. "I do believe that's another name for it."

"Shit," Dean cursed. "So, the seal was that a certain number of people had to die in the Bermuda Triangle at a certain time?"

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "Two-hundred souls to be precise, and it all had to be done before moonset on the eve of the Aries moon."

"Which was last night." Castiel nodded again.

"And you and your brother were successful in thwarting it."

"How?" Dean asked. "That doesn't make sense. This sounds like a job for hundreds of demons. Sam and I only saw the one."

It was the same point Skye had tried to make earlier. At that time, they hadn't considered it much because they had more pressing issues and because Skye was only half-coherent when she made it. However, it was a good point. If Lilith really wanted that seal broken, why only send one demon to do it?

Apparently, that point hadn't escaped Castiel's notice either. His expression became more bothered, and he looked down.

"We don't quite understand it either," he admitted. "What Lilith's aims were with this failed attempt are still a mystery."

"Oh, come on," Dean said. "You've got to have at least some idea of what happened. Aren't you supposed to have some crazy omnipotent knowledge of everything that goes on in the world or something?"

For a moment, Dean could've sworn he saw the corners of Cas's mouth twitch upwards. Although, that could have been his imagination.

"Unfortunately, that isn't the case," Castiel said. "At least, not regarding these matters."

"Well, isn't that convenient." Castiel immediately lifted his head and looked at Dean dead-on.

"I've told you everything I know, Dean," he said. "I'm not keeping anything from you. In fact, I was hoping you would be able to provide some insight on the matter."

"I don't know what to tell you." Again, Cas looked down.

"I see," was all he could say. A long silence stretched between them. It eventually became so uncomfortable that he had to say something.

"Cas."

"My name is Castiel."

"Cas," Dean said in a way that felt much too familiar. "I really don't know anything."

I'm sorry.

Cas's expression flickered.

"The sentiment is mutual."

Before Dean could say anything else, the dream ended. Cas was gone and in his place was a vast, unnerving blackness. Dean found the abrupt ending somewhat unnerving, but not for the reasons that would be expected. For some reason, seeing Cas disappear and be replaced by nothingness scared him. He didn't want to think about why, either, because he knew that whatever the answer was, it would just scare him more.

Lyden Pindling International Airport, Nassau, Bahamas

When the first helicopter returned to the airport, it was immediately swarmed by a crowd. Most of this crowd consisted of Bahamian Armed Forces and US Coast Guard personnel along with EMTs and other first responders. However, there was another, smaller group amongst the crowd and that group consisted of the reporters who had gotten the first tip-off about the breaking story.

Right away, the reporters proved to be more of a hindrance than a help. They were pushing their way through the crowd, shouting questions at the top of their lungs, and snapping pictures with the bright, blinding flashes of their cameras. The police on the scene rushed to contain them, but the whole scene remained hectic. That was, until the last passenger emerged from the helicopter. This passenger waved off the EMTs and made a beeline for the press with a huge plastic smile on his face. That passenger was Captain Avellino.

The press had taken to Avellino like moths to a flame. As soon as they heart that he was the captain of the doomed ship, they started bombarding him with question after question. Avellino naturally took it all in stride. He answered every single one of them with the same, cheap smile. The press absolutely ate it up.

This proved to be unexpectedly helpful to the police. Not only did it help them to separate the reporters from the rest of the crowd, but it also provided them with a distraction. The reporters had trained so much of their attention on Avellino that they'd stopped harassing the other passengers. Deciding to use this to their advantage, the cops asked Avellino to move to a field several meters away from the staging area. Avellino obliged. Just as predicted, where he went, the press followed.

None of this is to say that Avellino had suddenly become helpful. Far from it. All he could talk about was how chaotic the situation on the boat was and how he'd been much better suited to coordinate the rescue from the shore. This was all in spite of the fact that he was talking to reporters off to the side rather than working with any of the rescue workers. Also, as he boasted about his "heroic actions," Avellino made sure to project his voice so the cameras and audio recorders could hear him clearly. Because of this, many of the rescued passengers could hear exactly what he said, even from across the field.

A lot of people were angry. Although, none of this would top the most egregious thin Avellino ended up doing.

When one of the reporters asked, "if you ordered to abandon ship, why didn't you stay until at least all of the passengers had gotten off?" He had this to say:

"When I order abandon the ship, it doesn't matter what time I leave. Abandon is for everybody. If some people like to stay, they can stay."

Seconds after making this statement, Avellino suddenly stumbled forward and smashed his face into one of the television cameras. The reporters quickly rushed to his aid, asking what happened. Once helped up, Avellino turned to look behind him. He said he felt someone push him, but there was no one there. For a few moments, both he and the reporters looked for the assailant, but came up empty. Everyone who could have done it was standing too far away.

Eventually, they all gave up and went back to their interview. Looking back, some of the reporters would note that they felt a strange vibration in the air shortly before Avellino tripped. However, they wouldn't really think anything of it.

Immediately after releasing the shockwave, Skye lowered her hand. She didn't intend to hurt Avellino, just trip him up. She'd heard the "abandon is for everybody" line and just couldn't let that fly. Sure, making him trip was incredibly petty and paled in comparison to what he had done, but it still felt like she was inciting some small form of justice. For herself if not for anyone else.

Brushing her hair out of her face, Skye turned back to the staging area. She was looking for Sam and Dean amongst the hundreds of passengers that had been herded to the airport. Thus far, she had failed to find them. She was going to go back to her search when she was stopped dead by a figure standing behind her. It was Ed, and he did not look happy.

Skye had to blink a few times before she realized that he had seen her use her powers. She opened her mouth but struggled to find the words to say.

"Uh… Listen, I uh… That was a coincidence! I didn't do nothing! You're crazy, and dehydrated, and seeing things. I mean, how could I even make him trip from all the way over here? It's impossible! Trick of the light is all!" All of this was interspersed with bursts of nervous laughter that Skye really couldn't contain if she tried. At some point, Ed held out a hand for her to stop but it had no effect on her. Instead, he ended up having to talk over her.

"You're right," he said. "I didn't see anything. You're good."

Slowly, Skye managed to regain control of her breathing.

"Good," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Thank you."

Ed's expression remained unchanged, though.

"If I were you, though, I wouldn't trust the people that I'm with," he said. "In fact, I'd reconsider what I was doing completely." Skye frowned.

"What do you mean by that?" Ed stepped closer to her and spoke in a lower voice.

"They're hunters," he said. "You know what they do and what will happen to you when they find out. That's not an if, it's a when."

Skye's face dropped completely. Seeing that she understood, Ed took a step back.

"I can hide it," she said. "They'll never have to know."

"Not forever," Ed said. "Eventually you'll slip up like you just did."

For some reason, a sense of indignation built up in Skye. She found herself looking Ed straight in the eyes and saying "I won't." Ed shook his head.

"I thought so, too," he said. "But now I know not to believe in the impossible. "He put a hand on Skye's shoulder in what he probably intended to be a comforting gesture. "Take my advice; run fast and run far. You're in over your head and the longer you deceive them, the worse the ending will be."

Skye pushed his hand off her shoulder, defiance burning in her eyes. It wasn't like Ed was telling her anything she didn't already know, but the thing was she was stubborn. She had a plan, something she needed to be doing, and answers she needed to find. How dare he tell her to back away from it now.

Crossing her arms, Skye walked away from Ed without a word. She could feel him staring at her but didn't look back. She didn't care. All that mattered was finding Sam and Dean and getting back to the United States. Everything else was peanuts compared to that.

Awareness came back to Dean in short bursts. The first thing that came back was his hearing. Then, it was the sense of his physical self-followed by the sense of his metaphysical self. By the time he was finally prying his eyes open, he had long since begun to feel the toll the rescue had taken on him. It made him wish he was still unconscious.

Looking around, he could see that he was lying on a stretcher inside a white tent. There were a few people milling about in EMT and Red Cross uniforms, but other than that the space was empty and quiet. It looked like this little medical tent had been hastily set up. There wasn't much in the way of equipment other than the stretcher he was lying on, the IV in his arm, and a room divider that seemed to be set up to give him some sense of privacy.

Dean looked to his opposite side and found he wasn't alone. Lying on another stretcher a few feet from him was Sam. His eyes were shut and like Dean, he had an IV line attached to his arm. Right away, Dean's eyes bulged. He had noticed that something had been off about his brother back on the ship, but he hadn't imagined it was that serious. He wanted to shout his brother's name and was only just barely able to stop himself before he attracted unwanted attention. Keeping his voice low, Dean tried to rouse Sam.

"Sammy," he called out, unable to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. "Psst, Sammy!"

A deep groan was let out of Sam's throat. For a second Dean thought something might have happened to his brother that left him incapacitated beyond speech, but the groan was quickly followed by the words "I'm awake. I'm just resting my eyes." Dean let out an internal breath of relief.

"Thank God," he said. "What happened?" At that question, Sam was compelled to open his eyes wide and raise his eyebrows.

"Seriously?" he said. "I should be the one asking you that." Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?" Sam scoffed as he forced himself to sit up.

"Jesus," he said. "Dean, you passed out, and before that you were acting weird! You didn't want to get on the helicopter!"

"Of course not," Dean said. "Helicopters crash!"

"And boats sink," Sam countered. "That boat was sinking! Regardless of fear, you should've known that getting on the helicopter was the only way to survive!"

"I did!" Dean insisted. "I did now that."

"Well, then what the hell?"

Dean fell silent and looked down. He knew exactly why he did it but couldn't put it into words himself. Basically, he was overwhelmed. The rescue, the stress he'd been feeling beforehand, and the anxiety that just seemed to permeate his whole existence since coming back from Hell all compounded and made Dean feel like he wanted to be done. He didn't even want to "give up" really, he just wanted to skip the hard part and be out of the situation. It made no sense, but that was just how he felt.

Dean didn't know how to explain any of this to Sam. At least not in a way that he would understand. Any way Dean tried to put it would just make him out to be a coward. Probably because that's what he was, a coward. He might as well not even try.

So, instead of answering, Dean just turned the conversation back to what he really wanted to know.

"What happened after I passed out?"

Sam was clearly annoyed, but to Dean's relief he didn't push.

"Nothing," he said. "You passed out and they brought us back to land. End of story."

"I mean to you," Dean said. "You're hooked up to an IV."

The second that was pointed out Sam turned to glare at the tube in his arm like it personally offended him.

"They made me take that," he said. "Dehydration and exhaustion – same as you."

"But you didn't pass out." Sam shook his head, causing him to wince slightly.

"No, because I don't have an irrational fear of flying." Noticing Sam's clearly strained demeanor, Dean frowned.

"You alright?" Dean asked, his mind going back to when he tested Sam's blood with holy water. "Does it hurt?"

For a moment, something akin to a pained look crossed Sam's face. He quickly masked it, but when he made eye contact with his brother, Sam knew Dean had caught that and he wouldn't be able to lie.

"A bit," he admitted. "But it's fine. Nothing that'll kill me."

Honestly, Dean was skeptical of that. He'd seen the way that Sam's blood had fizzed and bubbled when he poured holy water on it, and that's what happened to a wound exposed to open air. He didn't want to imagine how Sam's blood was reacting to saline being injected directly into his veins. Dean even had the impulse to rip the line out of Sam's arm but only hesitated because he knew he would probably do more harm to his brother if he did."

While Dean stared at his brother in disbelief, the sound of sneakers scraping against concrete could be heard. Reluctantly, Dean turned away form Sam to look at whoever was approaching. He was expecting it to be a nurse or an EMT and was in the middle of coming up with a plausible story. However, instead he was met with a relieved-looking Skye.

"Thank God," she said on an exhale. "I was starting to think I was going to have to go scuba diving for you guys."

"How are you going to do that when you can't even ride on a boat?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," was all Skye could come back with. She pressed her fingers against her temple.

"You okay?" Dean asked. Skye made a neutral noise.

"I'll be better when this is over," she said, picking her head up. "When will that be, by the way?"

"Now."

Carefully, Dean started pulling the IV out of his arm. He thought he'd have to talk Sam into doing the same, but when he looked back up he saw that his brother had already pulled the port out. Reminded again of what saline could do to his brother's blood, Dean wondered why he thought Sam would be reluctant in the first place. Skye watched them with a frown on her face.

"Are you sure you guys are ready?" she asked.

Dean stood up and looked again to Sam. He scrutinized his brothers movements, trying to find any sign of the weakness he had shown on the ship. Sam wasn't shaking at all, which was good. However, he was still pale and worn down. Dean would be lying if he said that didn't make him a little hesitant, but it wasn't like they could keep hanging around there for much longer.

"We're fine," he said to Skye. "We'll be a lot worse off if we stick around and wait for the real FBI to show up.

"You sure about that?" Skye asked. "Because I'm pretty sure we blew that cover when I ran around the deck of a sinking ship wearing a t-shirt that said 'Hello Kinky' on it. By the way, why didn't either of you tell me that my shirt said, 'Hello Kinky?!'"

Skye crossed her arms over her chest and pulled the sweatshirt she'd worn over the tee in question closer to herself. Dean, however, did not have time for her affronted looks and ushered her forward.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Let's just go."

On the way out, they were met with almost no resistance. Every EMT that they saw was busy working on other patients. It seemed like the ship's passengers had all come down with the exact same thing, dehydration, and exhaustion. Only one person stopped them to ask where they were going. However, all they had to say was that they were given the good to go and the woman shrugged them off. It was alarmingly yet laughably easy.

Stepping out of the medical tent, Dean looked around at the scene. It was chaos. People were milling about – passenger and rescuer alike. They were talking, rushing, reuniting, crying, gathering together, splitting up… It was the perfect scene for the three of them to get lost in. No one would notice that they left or that they were even there at all. Not only that, but it was perfect for another reason.

All of these people were still alive. They had been left on a sinking ship to die, but they were still alive. For some reason, that just felt extraordinary. Five-hundred lives were put at risk, but not a single one was lost. If that wasn't one hell of an accomplishment, Dean didn't know what was.

The reason why I'm always celebrating the end in these author's notes is because the author's notes are the hardest things for me to write. I never know what I reader might want to know, what things that might need to be clarified, etc. So if there's something that's bothering you about this story or any of my stories, please let me know in the comments. I'd really appreciate the feedback.

Remember kids, abandon is for everybody!

Originally uploaded on 10/5/2024.