A/N Picking up more or less where we left off…
Sorry this took so long to post. Life had been more hectic than usual, with medical issues for myself and family. And then Helene hit. You don't know how much you need the damn internet until you don't have it for a week, I'm tellin' you. (We are lucky, no injuries, no property loss. Those around us, not so much.)
SPN=SPN=SPN=SPN=SPN=
Elkhorn Motel
5500 S 9500 E Street
Jensen, UT
November 14, 2009
7:03 a.m.
Dean's eyes blinked open as confusion set in, along with a slight headache that might or might not be caused by the incessant buzzing by his head.
It took him a second to figure out the buzzing was his phone and he slapped his hand around the nightstand a few times before he grabbed the offending instrument.
"Whaaaat?"
"Dean?!"
The combination of fear and relief in Bobby's voice instantly brought him awake. "Bobby? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" the elder hunter repeated. "What's WRONG?! Dammit, Dean, I've been calling you for three and half hours, you damn idjit!"
"Three and a half…" Dean's gaze fell on the clock and then quickly - finally - scanned the room. He was somehow not surprised that he was the only occupant, and sprung up from the bed, searching for his clothes. "Bobby, Sammy's gone!"
"Ya don't say," Bobby growled. "Rick's been calling him for the last three hours, too."
"Rick's been… Bobby, what the hell is going on?"
Silence, for just long enough to make Dean's heart race, then: "Check your texts."
"Hang on…" Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and opened the text app, swiping up to open the text from Sam.
I'm sorry. This is all I can do. Forgive me. I love you.
His legs gave out and he landed on the floor, knees cracking on the concrete under the thin carpet. "No," he whispered and his head snapped up as another buzz filled the room.
"Rick says Sam's not answering his phone," Bobby began and Dean forced himself back to his feet.
"He wouldn't be," Dean agreed with a desperate laugh. "Bastard left it behind."
"Balls!" Bobby swore. "Well, that explains why your phones are pinging basically on top of each other."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, and pinned the phone between his ear and shoulder while he hurriedly tugged on his jeans. He shoved the drape aside and glanced out the window. "He didn't take the car," he reported and zipped up his jeans, looking around for his boots as he did so.
"Well, that's something," Bobby sighed. "Sam can pull an eight-minute mile when he wants to…"
"Seven," Dean corrected. "The moron runs in the mornings, now, even when nothing's chasing him. He's at a seven-minute mile. But he can't sustain it for more than four or five miles."
Bobby grunted. "Even assuming he's just been walking, that's… what? 4 miles an hour, for three and half hours…"
"About 14 mile radius. In any direction," Dean sighed, sitting on the bed and pulling on the boots he found sitting beside it. "That's like, what 600 square miles? Jesus fuck, Sammy," he dropped his head into one hand.
"Take it easy, boy," Bobby soothed. "He probably didn't go that far."
Dean barked a laugh. "No, of course not. Why go far from the motel to.. Son of a…" He wiped the tears roughly from his eyes, muttering to himself. "Not helping, Dean, not helping."
"Dean, we don't what Sam was planning…"
Sam's phone rang again, and Dean crossed to it. "Oh, fuck you, Bobby," he spat. "This is all I can do and I'm sorry?! We both know damn well what he was planning. Rick," he greeted as he connected on Sammy's phone in his other hand.
"SAM?!"
"Dean."
"Where the hell have you been?!" Rick demanded, his voice betraying all the frantic worry and outright panic that two trained Hunters would never show. "And where the fuck is your asshole brother?"
"I've been here," Dean admitted, wearily. "Sleeping," he added dryly.
"SLEEPING?!"
"Calm down, Rick," Bobby instructed from the other phone.
Dean thumbed them both into speaker mode, hoping he wouldn't cause any disgusting feedback. He got lucky. For once.
"CALM DOWN? Dean was fucking SLEEPING, while Sam is… Sam's…"
"I wasn't sleeping by choice!" Dean snapped as his last memory finally clicked into place.
"What?" He could almost see Bobby's frown over the phone.
"Last thing I remember," Dean relayed, "was Sammy putting his hand on my shoulder and muttering some Latin at me. Fucker hit me with a sleeping spell! Gonna kick his ass so hard…"
"I hope you do!" traditionally non-violent Rick agreed. "I hope you can," he added, choking on the words.
"We gotta start looking," Bobby said, rationally. "Dean, I'm on my way to you. I tracked your phone, and I've just been transferring the phones to Rufus. I'll be leaving in…"
"Don't," Dean instructed.
"What?! No! I'm not leaving you alone to…"
"Bobby! I'm not gonna be alone!"
"How are you not going to be alone?" Rick wondered. "You can't go to the police, Dean, you're both still wanted men."
"Not the police," Dean grinned. "I'm pulling in a higher power."
"A what now?"
"Castiel," Bobby realized.
"Yeah. Got an angel on my shoulder," Dean shrugged. "Gonna use him. I'll call you both back."
"I'm still coming to you," Bobby insisted.
"DON'T," Dean said firmly. "Because once we find my asshole little brother, I'm going to have Cas Angel Air his dumbass straight to that fuckin' Panic Room, and you're gonna lock the little bitch in and throw away the fuckin' key!"
"Good idea," Bobby agreed. "I'll head right downstairs, clean all the sharp and blunt objects out."
"Good"
"Keep me posted," Rick begged.
"Not gonna leave you hangin', buddy," Dean promised.
"'Kay. I'll try to get a flight home, one way or another. Failin' that, I'll rent a car."
"Can you do that?" Dean frowned. "I don't want you to screw up your residency or anything…"
"Fuck my residency," Rick scoffed. "Family is more important."
Dean smiled softly. "Yeah. Okay. See you soon, then."
"I'll text you both my itinerary, when I have one," Rick promised. "If I'm not actually in the fucking air, Dean, I better hear from you when you find that moron, or I'll kick your ass."
"I'll call," Dean vowed. "Let me go, both of you, so I can get Cas and we can find him."
"Yeah," Rick agreed. "See ya."
Bobby waited until he heard the beep of the other line going dead. "Bring him home, Dean," he said quietly. "No, no matter what you find. Bring him back home."
Dean froze, suddenly unable to breathe. "Yeah," he choked out. "I will," he gasped and hung up before Bobby could say something even more gut wrenching.
For a moment, he just stood in the middle of the room, and thumbed open his messages again.
I'm sorry. This is all I can do. Forgive me. I love you.
"Jesus, Sammy, what the fuck?" He sank to the bottom of the bed and allowed himself a full minute - he counted the seconds - to freak the FUCK out, then took a deep breath and made himself stand up. "Right," he said firmly. "I'm comin' to find you, Sammy," he vowed. "You fuckin' better be alive, or I'm trackin' your ass to heaven, bringing you back and killin' you my own damn self. CAS! Cas, I need you down here, NOW! Whatever you're doing, it ain't as important as this," he promised, his fear translating, as it so often did, to pure anger, "so get your feathery ass…"
"Hello, Dean."
He spun to look at the Angel standing by the table, looking down at the laptop Sam had left behind.
"Cas," he began, the word bursting from his lungs in a rush of relief.
"Where is your brother?" Castiel asked, idly, his head tilting in that way that was really starting to drive Dean right up a wall.
Dean said nothing, just held out his phone. Cas just looked at it, his head tilting a little more.
"Take it," Dean urged, frustrated. "Read it!"
Cas slowly took the phone from his hand, and looked at the screen, frowning. "What is this?"
"Sam s-sent it," Dean admitted, his voice stuttering as he resolutely held in the tears — the sobs — that were struggling to finally escape.
"This is hours old, Dean," Cas said, a little reproachfully, Dean thought.
"Yeah, I know," Dean admitted bitterly, and brushed his hand roughly across his eyes and down his mysteriously damp cheeks. "Sam put a sleeping spell on me, sent that and then…" He shook his head.
"Then?"
"Then he left," Dean gasped. "Cas, I think… I think he…"
"We must find him," the Angel said firmly.
"Ya think?" Dean scoffed, too emotionally strung out to recognize the annoyance on the all-powerful being's face.
"Have you not looked?"
Dean shook his head. "Spell just wore off," he admitted. "I've been awake for, like, ten minutes. Bobby and our friend Rick have been calling since the message was sent, but the asshole left his phone here, an, and I… Cas," he gasped. "You gotta find him. He could be anywhere. He's had hours to get himself lost. If he walked, he could be anywhere in a 600 square mile area," he admitted hopelessly, and the tears finally began to fall in earnest. "If he stole a car, or, or hitched a ride…"
Castiel's anger cleared away as he finally took in the Righteous Man's distress. He laid a gentle hand on Dean's arm, directly over the mark he'd left what sometimes seemed a very long time ago, now.
"Do not fear, Dean," the Angel said solemnly. "I will find him. Wait here." And he vanished, leaving Dean to sink slowly onto the edge of the bed.
"Please," Dean sank slowly to his knees, his much-vaunted Winchester stubbornness and strength giving out on him in the face of the only thing he could never, ever face. "Please," he prayed to nothing he believed in. "Don't take him from me, again. Please. Please."
SPN=SPN=SPN=SPN=SPN=
Just outside Jensen, UT
November 14, 2009
7:18 a.m.
It took Castiel an excruciatingly long time — nearly three minutes — to find Sam.
The angel was honestly shocked at the dismay, the pain that ran through his grace when he first saw the Boy lying limp on the ground, gun still in his hand, the side of his face — so familiar after so short a time — completely obscured by the blood covering it.
"No," he whispered and dropped to his knees, confused by the way his hand shook when he reached out to touch the body.
Castiel was unsure what the wetness on his face was, but he disliked it intensely, disliked the squeezing feeling in his chest, the pounding feeling in his chest and head, the way his (entirely unnecessary) breath came in shuddering puffs.
"Sam," he gasped, and ran a hand gently over the blood-matted hair.
What would ever possess his brave, stubborn gohed dodsih to put a bullet in that magnificent brain, less than ten days after having sworn to Castiel that he wanted to live? Why had it been the only way? The only way to do what? To destroy Dean? Because that was what would happen when he brought his brother's empty body back to the Righteous Man.
He didn't believe that was Sam's intent, but what else could….
Castiel froze as his fingers brushed against something hard and cold, protruding from Sam's skull. It was about the same size as the tip of Castiel's (or, more accurately, Jimmy Novak's) forefinger and, upon closer inspection, was partially embedded into Sam's skull.
It was, Castiel realized, the bullet Sam had shot himself with, stuck in the skull as a reminder of Sam's fatal intent.
For a moment, Castiel froze, then pressed his blood-covered fingertips to Sam's neck, looking for…
A PULSE! Sam had a pulse.
Castiel forced down the strange sensations the sight of Sam Winchester's obviously dead body had overwhelmed him with, and pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead, reaching his grace inside the delicate skull beneath his fingers to find…
Sam Winchester.
No bullet, no damage at all, just Sam, whole and blessedly alive. Unconscious, but there.
For a moment, Castiel could only kneel beside the still form, letting the relief spread through him. "Thank you, Father," he whispered, and took another millisecond to compose himself. When his hands stopped shaking, he slipped his arms beneath the boy, lifting him against his vessel's chest, with but one thought: get Sam back to his brother before Dean did something equally stupid.
Castiel shifted slightly until Sam's head rested against his shoulder, and he took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the boy's warm breath against his skin, before flying back to the motel and the frantically waiting Righteous Man.
"Cas!" Dean was on his feet the second the angel appeared and watched as his brother's body was lowered to the bed. "Oh, god," he breathed and dropped to his knees at the side of the bed, tears flowing as he took in the sheer volume of blood that covered his kid's face and neck. "Sammy, no," he whispered and dropped his head to the mattress, sobbing. "Not again, please."
"Dean," Castiel said quietly.
"Thanks, Cas," Dean gasped. "For… for bringing his, his… oh, god."
"Dean," Castiel tried again.
"I, I appreciate it."
"He's alive, Dean."
"I can't… I… c-can you… can you take us to Bobby's?" he asked, not even trying to hold back the tears.
Castiel sighed, realizing that Dean wasn't listening, and placed two fingers on the back of Dean's head, rested a hand on Sam's shoulder and reached his grace out to the hunk of metal outside the motel room.
It wasn't until Bobby cried out his name that Dean even realized they'd been moved.
Castiel watched, sighing again, when Bobby sank to his knees next to Dean, in front of the couch where Sam lay still, even as his blood began to drip onto the faded upholstery.
"Dean," Bobby said and held the sobbing young man in his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, boy."
"He's alive," Castiel tried again.
"Bobby, what am I going to do? Sammy's…"
"NOT. DEAD," Castiel interrupted, more loudly.
"He… what?" Dean looked up at the clearly exasperated angel. "What are you talking about?" Dean hiccupped. He staggered to his feet.
Bobby pulled himself to his feet beside Dean. "Castiel, do you mean his body is still alive? After that?" he frowned, pointing to the blood-covered boy he loved like his own.
"His body is very much alive," Castiel assured him, and frowned at the look of absolute horror on the face of both hunters.
"Oh, god," Dean breathed and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, reaching blindly for Bobby.
The older hunter took the younger's hand and squeezed it hard, wrapping his free arm around the stricken Winchester's back. "It's all right, Dean," Bobby said gently. "I'll take care of it. I wouldn't ask you to…"
Dean gulped once, hard, and ran from the room towards the bathroom by Bobby's bedroom at the back of the house.
Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, before retreating to the library to bring back the .45 he kept in his desk. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to wait for Dean to return before raising the gun towards the still form on the couch.
He flinched when there was suddenly a furious trenchcoated angel between himself and his youngest boy.
"What are you doing?!" Castiel demanded angrily, and ripped the gun from his hand with enough force that two fingers broke (although he healed them for the elder hunter immediately).
"I'm doin' the merciful thing!" Bobby snapped.
"Merciful?"
"He's brain dead, Castiel," Bobby made himself explain, as the tears began to fall. "And if he ain't totally gone, with a bullet embedded in his brain, he ain't Sam, anymore. I know that boy as well as I know my own mind, and he wouldn't want to spend the rest of his life as a, a damn piece of lettuce!'
Castiel's head tilted in confusion. "Lettuce?" he repeated.
"He means," Dean gasped from the hallway, "as a vegetable, Cas." He returned to look down at his brother. "That's what we call it," he continued, the pain at the realization constricting his throat, deepening his voice, "when a person won't ever wake up again. They're a vegetable. And Bobby's right," he agreed, pulling his own gun out from the back of his jeans. "Sammy wouldn't want to be like that."
"I am certain that is true," Castiel agreed. "But Sam is not a 'piece of lettuce'," he assured, finger quotes fully deployed.
"He's got a bullet in his brain, Cas!" Dean sobbed.
"Actually, no," Castiel said, mildly and both Hunters froze, staring at him, "he has a bullet in his skull."
"That's semantics, Cas!" Dean protested. "A bullet to the head is a bullet to the head!"
"It is not 'semantics'," Castiel assured him, scowling. "A bullet in the brain would, indeed, be catastrophic. A bullet in the skull is merely… inconvenient."
"Inconvenient?!" Dean sputtered.
"Dean," Castiel implored, once more, "Bobby, please listen to me. Yes, Sam shot himself in the head," he admitted and both men before him flinched at the words, "but the bullet did not enter his brain."
"It… What?" Dean blinked.
"See for yourself," Castiel invited and stepped aside so Dean could pass (although the angel did — gently — relieve the hunter of his weapon).
Slowly, Dean sank to his knees beside his brother and ran a cautious hand over the blood streaked face and head. "Jesus," he breathed and ran his finger lightly over the bulk of a 9mm shell sticking out of his brother's head. "Bobby, he's right," he breathed and looked up at the elder hunter, ecstatic. "It never — it hardly penetrated!"
Bobby bent to look himself. "I'll be damned," he breathed. "How…"
"I don't know," Dean admitted and stood again, tears (of joy this time) streaming down his face. "Cas, how…"
"I do not know," Castiel frowned. "Would you like me to heal him, now?" he offered.
Dean laughed. "Yeah. Yes, please!"
Castiel grabbed the bullet between two fingers and pulled it out, automatically setting it aside, before resting the same two fingers against the small hole in the boy's skull. The hole — and the blood all over Sam's face, head and neck — disappeared.
"He may have a headache," Castiel admitted.
"He should have a damned headache," Bobby snapped, "worrying an old man like that. Damn idjit kids, always givin' me a heart attack," he grumbled and pulled out his phone. "Imma call Rick, let him know the fool's just fine," he decided and walked away to his office. "He hasn't sent his flight info, yet. I'll tell him not to bother. We can kick Sam's ass without Rick losing his job."
Dean sank to his knees beside his brother, and ran a hand gently through the soft mop of hair. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said brokenly and rested his forehead against his brother's cheek before suddenly standing and glaring down at him. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" he decided and turned to Castiel again, transitioning from soft and relieved to furious and homicidal so fast it almost gave the angel whiplash. "You have any idea why he'd try to do something this monumentally stupid?"
Castiel's head tilted again, the other way. "Why would I know?"
"Well, I can't think of anything," Dean snarled, "and I just thought maybe you'd have a clue, with all the secrets you two are keeping from us!"
"Secrets?"
"All that crap about owing him and not telling us why."
"'S not a secret," a soft voice interrupted from behind them and Dean spun on his heel to face his brother, who lay, blinking in confusion, on the couch.
"Sam?!" He knelt at his brother's side — all signs of anger gone, Castiel noticed, with no small amount of confusion (did all humans change their demeanor so quickly?) — and gently brushed the hair away from the boy's confused, pale green gaze. "Sammy, you okay?"
"Yeah," Sam frowned and pushed himself up to sit on the couch. "I think so. What…" his gaze fell on the bullet Castiel had put on the coffee table. "Why am I here?" he wondered and picked up the cold metal, slowly. "How am I here?" He raised his eyes to look at the angel hovering behind his brother. "Castiel?" he said softly, and stood, dropping the bullet back to the table. "Did you do this?" he demanded, voice breaking. "Did you bring me back?!"
"Sam…" Dean reached for him and Sam pulled away, pushing him aside to stalk angrily over to the celestial.
"Why would you do that?!" he yelled and pushed hard at the angel's chest. It was like pushing a brick wall. Castiel didn't move the meerest fraction of the smallest micron. "Dammit, Castiel, you know what's at stake here! How could you bring me back?!"
"What's at stake?" Dean repeated, confused, and was cut off by the angel's deep, calm voice.
"I could not," Castiel said simply and the two Winchesters stopped.
"What?" Sam's anger stuttered to an end. "Wh-what do you mean, 'you could not'. Could not what?"
"Bring you back from the dead," Castiel explained. "That is not my function. I can heal you and your brother, but I am not powerful enough to resurrect. Only Seraph class angels and higher can do that, at least without Heaven's assistance, and you know it would be unsafe for me to ask for it."
"Unsafe?" Dean interjected. "Unsafe, how?" he demanded was ignored.
"But… then…"
"You weren't dead, Sam," Castiel explained and placed a gentle hand on the boy's cheek. Involuntarily, Sam's eyes slipped close for a second before he pulled away.
"I shot myself in the head," Sam insisted, not noticing the way his brother went pale and swayed slightly behind him.
It wasn't like Dean hadn't known, but somehow there was a profound difference between knowing what Sam had done and hearing his baby brother admit it as casually as if he were talking about picking up the mail.
"Point blank," Sam continued, "right against my skull," and mimed the action with his fingers. Behind him, Dean swallowed heavily and sank down to sit on the couch. "It's not like I could've missed."
"You did not," Castiel assured. "But the bullet only penetrated your skull, not your brain."
"Wh… That… How the hell?" Sam sputtered.
"I do not know," the angel admitted. "But only two possibilities come to mind."
"What possibilities?" Dean wondered, and Sam glanced back at him.
His brother looked so pale and so small, somehow, and Sam quickly returned to the couch, sitting next to him and put a hand on Dean's knee. "Dean?"
"What possibilities?" Dean repeated.
Castiel glanced at Dean, but kept his attention on the younger Winchester when he spoke. "Not ten days ago, you told me you wanted to live, Sam," he reminded. "While we were in the Panic Room," he clarified, because he could see Dean about to ask. "It is possible that your desire to survive, your sense of self-preservation, caused your innate telekinetic power to stop the bullet from doing any real damage."
Sam frowned. "That… could be," he nodded, slowly. "Yeah. That could be." For a moment, his eyes went unfocused and he looked at the scarred wooden floor, idly cataloging the faded stains. Slowly, he came back to himself and looked at his brother, taking in the concerned look, the lingering pain in those familiar forest colored eyes. He forced himself to look away, to meet the level blue gaze of the celestial, his eyes, if not his voice, recognizing the alternate belief they shared.
Dean looked between his brother and Cas, realizing there was some kind of communication going on, but still stuck on the missing piece of the puzzle.
"And option B?" Bobby demanded from the archway leading to his office.
All three of the living room's occupants watched him enter and sit on the edge of the coffee table.
Sam's gaze returned to meet Castiel's, while Bobby's and Dean's bounced between them.
"Option B?" Castiel queried, never taking his eyes off the youngest hunter.
"You said there were two possibilities," Dean reminded him. "What's the second?"
Sam swallowed. "I'm sure Castiel is right," he said, his voice low and rough. "It was my TK."
Dean looked at him, eyes narrowed, before reaching up to flick a finger — hard — at his forehead.
"Hey!" Sam protested, and Dean did it again. "Dean! What the hell?"
"Just checking to see if it's completely hollow," Dean glared. "Maybe you didn't hit your brain, 'cause it's gone," he suggested. "Being totally fucking brainless is the only explanation for you thinkin' you can try to fucking kill yourself, then LIE to me!"
"Dean," Sam began, reasonably.
"No. NO, Sam," Dean said and pushed him, hard, sending him tumbling off the couch to the floor. Dean crouched above his little brother and the look in Dean's eyes had Bobby standing and backing away, even as Sam scrambled to get out of reach.
Dean grabbed the younger boy by the front of his shirt and jerked him up so their noses were almost touching. "You tried to kill yourself, you little shit! You tried to leave me. I oughta," he began and pulled an arm back, hand closing into a fist, only to find his wrist held in an unbreakable grip. Dean glared up at the angel standing above them. "Keep outa this, Cas," he growled and tried (failed) to pull his arm free.
"I just healed him, Dean," Castiel said, calmly. "I will not now allow you to pummel him." Almost casually, he grabbed the back of Dean's shirt and pulled him back onto the couch, then helped Sam to his feet. "Sam," he said quietly.
Dean had the impression there was an entire paragraph hidden in that single word, but he'd be damned if he knew what it contained.
Sam sighed and slowly sat beside his brother, head hanging in defeat. "Lucifer," he said quietly.
"Come again?" Bobby frowned.
"The other option," Sam clarified, slowly raising his head ot meet the elder hunter's gaze. "Lucifer. Lucifer stopped the bullet."
"It could be the telekinesis," Castiel insisted. "I have personal experience with your desire to survive, Sam. I believe you could have saved yourself."
Sam nodded and smiled sadly, looking up at the angel he was coming to consider a friend. "Could have," he agreed quietly. "But you don't think I did. Not anymore than I do."
Dean looked between them, and finally ended up staring at the angel. "Cas?" he said softly. "He right? Do you… You think it, it was…"
"Lucifer?" Castiel completed. "Yes. I do."
"Fuck," Dean spat. "Why the hell…"
"Didn't you hear me?" Sam challenged. "In the Panic Room, Dean. That, that vision I had. About Lucifer. He wants me, Dean. He's going to take me over."
"Only if the seals all break," Dean argued. "Heaven won't let…"
"Heaven wants it," Sam interrupted.
"Wait," Bobby demanded. "Just wait a damn minute. You're saying Heaven wants the seals to break?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Worse than that actually," he shrugged. "Castiel, tell 'em."
"There is a conspiracy," Castiel said sadly, "it goes up quite high in the Celestial hierarchy. Sam gave me the first hints of it," he admitted and the two older hunters turned to stare at the youngest, who just shrugged sheepishly. "But my investigation has proven it to be true. Heaven and Hell are working together, to break the Seals that lock Lucifer's cage."
"To what end?!" Bobby demanded.
"To bring the Apocalypse," Sam shrugged.
"To…" Dean shook his head and stood, pushing his way past his brother, Bobby and the angel, heading for Bobby's study. "I need a damn drink for this," he decided.
"Pour me one," Bobby called after him.
Castiel looked at Sam in puzzlement. Sam shook his head and sat on the couch. "Grab me a beer," he called out and received an indistinct grunt in return. "Want anything, Castiel?"
"I do not require sustenance," came the confused reply.
"Castiel's good!" Sam yelled towards the back of the house.
In minutes, Dean was back, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in one hand, an unopened beer in the other.
Drinks were poured and distributed and the older two hunters sat on the couch, looking expectantly up at their youngest and the Angel who stood, side by side, as if preparing for interrogation. Or court martial.
"Okay," Dean began and tossed back his whiskey. "So. What I've got is this: Sammy. For some reason, you told Cas, here, that Heaven and Hell were in cahoots to free the fuckin' devil. And Cas, you did some kind of damned investigation and found out it's true. Have I got that right?"
Sam shrugged and nodded. "Basically."
"Although Sam did not know of a conspiracy, I discovered that on my own," Castiel corrected. "Sam only alerted me that Uriel was a follower of Lucifer. And that Heaven had once had me invade his mind, but removed both of our memories of that event."
"He… you…" Dean quickly poured and drank another two fingers of Hunter's Helper. "Okay, we're gonna put a pin in that," he decided.
"Put a pin in Heaven entering people's heads and stealing memories," Bobby muttered, and downed his own drink. "Sure. Why not," he agreed and poured himself and Dean another.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "So, let's start with this, then. Saaam," he said, with exaggerated care and reasonableness, "how did you know that Junkless is Lucifer's follower? Not that… not that that surprises me," he admitted. "Dude's a big enough dick for it."
"I… It, It's related to my telepathy," Sam explained. "I think."
"You think?" Bobby repeated.
"Working theory, yeah," Sam nodded. "When we were interrogating demons about Lilith," he continued, nodding to Dean, "I realized that… there's this… feeling… I get. It's like a… I don't know, itch, kind of? In the back of my brain. When I'm near one of Lilith's minions. I don't get it from other demons, just the ones aligned with her. And, since she's all about setting Lucifer free…"
"Demons who follow Lucifer," Dean nodded.
"Itch?" Castiel repeated, his head tilting in that way that Sam found increasingly adorable and Dean found increasingly annoying. "You told me it was a smell."
"It's both," Sam shrugged. "And neither. I, I, I can't really explain it to you. It's just something in my brain, and I can't classify it, really, so I'm just… doin' the best I can. Smell, itch, whatever. I know when someone I'm near is aligned with Lucifer and Lilith. And I felt it when we met Uriel."
"And told Cas," Dean completed.
"Yeah."
"But not me," he observed and set his glass down — hard — on the coffee table.
"Dean…"
"No. No, don't 'Dean' me, dammit!" he snapped. "You should've told me, Sam!"
"And what would you have done, Dean?" Sam snarled back. "You already can barely tolerate the asshole…"
"With good reason, apparently!"
"…and if I'd told you, you'd've only gotten snarkier with him, gotten even more in the face of the angel who has repeatedly expressed his desire to smite you. I didn't see that ending well, do you?"
Dean frowned and glared, then shrugged before taking another drink. It wasn't like Sam was wrong. Dammit.
"Son of a bitch, Sammy! I thought we agreed - no secrets, man!" Dean yelled.
"And I'm not keeping them!" Sam hollered.
"Really?! Because you've known that at least one angel was aligned with Hell since fuckin' Halloween, Sam, and here it is, middle of November and I'm just hearing about it now! That seems like keeping secrets to me!"
"I was going to tell you," Sam tried to reassure his irate brother, "but… there was… I was waiting for Castiel to let me know if I was really right or not."
"Which he did," Dean glared, "and you still didn't mention it."
"Yeah, he told me. In the Panic Room. While I was going through the literal Detox from Hell, Dean!"
"And when detox was done?!"
"I had other things on my mind!"
"Like LUCIFER!" Dean challenged. "Which you also should've been fuckin' talking to me about!'
"ALL RIGHT!"
Both Winchesters froze and turned as one to look, wide-eyed, at their surrogate father. Bobby rarely actually yelled — scolded, snipped, snarled, maybe, but actual yelling? That meant his boys were in real trouble.
"Sam! You should've told us, right after you told Cas. That there was maybe something hinky in Heaven was news we shoulda had."
"See?!" Dean crowed.
"Dean," Bobby continued and the elder Winchester recoiled slightly, "you could cut your brother a little slack. He's been through a lot, lately, and clearly the whole Lucifer thing is kinda tough for him. So, enough fighting. Understood?"
"Yes, Bobby," two meek voices replied.
Castiel's eyebrows raised. He was honestly impressed at the way Bobby was able to control and calm the Winchesters. He'd been thinking he'd have to knock them both out, then wait until they awoke to try again.
"Now," Bobby continued, "Sam, I'm beyond thrilled that you're okay, and that the bullet stopped in the skull — for whatever reason — and didn't do any lastin' harm. But I'd sure as shit like to know why the hell you'd put a gun to your damn fool head in the first place! Boy," he sighed and shook his head, sadly, "don't you know by now that there ain't nothing you can't talk to me about? That no matter what the problem is, this family solves it together?"
Sam looked at his suddenly shuffling feet, embarrassed. "I know that, Bobby."
"Then, why, son? Why would you ever…"
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, and looked up from the ground, tears were sliding slowly down his cheeks. "I didn't have any choice," he choked. "Bobby… Dean," he implored, turning to face the devastated look on his big brother's face. "It's not that I want to die," he reassured his brother, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's not. I don't. I don't want to leave you. Either of you," he added, glancing over at Bobby. "But… Look, man, I don't… Dean, you remember what I said? At the motel? Before I…"
"Put a fuckin' sleepin' spell on me and then went out to off yourself?" Dean challenged and was both pleased and ashamed at the wince the answer engendered.
"Yeah," Sam sighed.
"I remember," Dean admitted, softly. "But Sam…"
"No, Dean…"
"Well, I don't remember," Bobby interrupted. "Somebody wanna clue me in?"
Sam looked over at him and sighed. "Short version? When Lucifer breaks out of the cage, he's going to take over my body and use it to end the world. And kill you. And Dean. And everybody else I care about."
"Oh, son…"
Sam nodded, acknowledging the tacit understanding, the unending sympathy from this wonderful man who had taken them in. "I can't let that happen," Sam said through his tears. "Bobby… Dean. I can't… If, if I'm not here, then Lucifer can't use me to… I can't be here when he gets out," he sobbed. "I have to stop him. I don't know any other way! "
"Sam." The angel's voice startled them all — he'd been so still and quiet they'd all but forgotten he was even in the room — and Sam turned towards him, roughly wiping his tears away. "This is why you…?" The angel crossed to the young hunter, shaking his head, sadly. "Oh, Sam."
"I'm sorry, Castiel," Sam shrugged. "I can't… When Dean and I first started hunting together again," he said, and turned slightly so he could look at his family also, "an, an ancient force, an, an entity, called me an 'agent of destruction'. I didn't know what that meant. Now, I do," he shrugged. "And I, I can't be that, Castiel," he closed his eyes for a moment before meeting the bright blue gaze of the celestial he trusted almost as much as he trusted the hunters in the room. "So I need to ask you," he said and wiped his tears away, "and I'm sorry. It's a horrible thing to ask. But... Castiel. I need… I need you to…"
"Sam, no!" Dean cried out behind him.
Sam pulled himself up to this full height and looked down at the angel. "I need you to do this for me, Castiel," Sam said, suddenly calm. "Smite me, and Lucifer can't bring me back. Kill me. Destroy me. Please."
Castiel looked up at the hunter, and shook his head with a small smile. "Sam Winchester," he said softly. "Always vexing me."
Sam chuckled and wiped the tears hat had begun to fall again from his cheeks. "Sorry."
"Cas, you can't…" Dean began desperately, and stopped when the angel raised a hand for silence.
"I can," he assured the hunter. "I have the power to do that," he nodded at Sam. "But not the cause."
"Cas, you and I both know, Lucifer will get free."
"Yes, and he will desire to use you as his vessel."
"Exactly!"
"He will have the desire, Sam," Castiel repeated, and just stared at the Hunter, who just stared back.
"Get the feeling we're missing somethin', here?" Bobby asked Dean, quietly.
Dean just nodded.
"You are all missing something," Castiel confirmed, sounding somewhere between disappointed and disgusted.
"What, Castiel?" Sam demanded. "What am I missing about Lucifer wanting to turn me into a meat puppet?"
"I think you are missing the fact of what Lucifer IS."
"One of the most powerful creatures that ever existed," Dean remembered the angel having said.
"An archangel," Castiel countered.
"What I said."
"An arch. Angel, Sam," Castiel repeated.
Sam blinked. "Angel. An angel?" he repeated and a wide smile grew until his dimples were showing.
Castiel nodded. "Very powerful, most likely insane, after all these millennia, but still. An ANGEL." Castiel placed a hand on the hunter's cheek, for just a moment, before sliding it down to one broad shoulder. "With all the power of the highest of the angels, and all the limitations of the lowest angel who ever existed."
Dean blinked. "He has to ask," he realized, and grinned.
"What?" Bobby shook his head. "Why is everybody smiling, all the sudden?"
Sam looked over his shoulder at the older hunter. "Angels aren't like demons, Bobby. They can't just possess somebody, anytime they want."
"They need permission," Dean clarified, and gestured broadly towards the celestial in the room. "Cas, for example. The dude he's wearing? Prayed for it. Cas asked to come in, and the dude…"
"The 'dude' has a name," Castiel reminded with a frown, "Jimmy Novak."
"Right," Dean nodded. "Cas knocked and Jimmy said 'come on in'."
"And if I don't say 'yes'," Sam grinned, blue-green eyes bright, "Lucifer can't do anything."
"Not with you as a vessel," Castiel confirmed. "It is likely he will find some substitute, but the fact that he has approached you already, Sam, even before all the seals are broken, indicates that you are his perfect vessel."
"Meaning?" Sam frowned.
"Meaning, any other vessel he may be able to attain or coerce would not be as capable of holding him," Castiel explained and sighed at the puzzled looks and shrugs he received. "It will weaken him, quite considerably, to have any other vessel than Sam. And thereby increase the probability of Heaven's eventual victory."
"That's good," Sam smiled.
"Yes," Castiel nodded. "Heaven winning is infinitely preferable to Hell's success. Should Lucifer win in his battle with Michael, literal Hell on Earth will ensue."
"And if Heaven wins? What? Paradise?" Dean, ever the cynic, scoffed.
"Yes," Castiel nodded. "An end to war and famine and poverty. All will live in peace," he said, drily.
Sam blinked and shook his head slowly. "If it's Paradise on Earth, Castiel… why don't you seem happy about it?"
Castiel smiled sadly. "I am very happy at the prospect of Paradise, Sam Winchester. It was, ultimately, what the warrior class of angels - my class of angel - was designed for. To fight Hell and bring about Peace. But…"
"But?" Sam pressed.
Castiel shook his head. "The cost, Sam."
"What cost?" Dean demanded.
"The Apocalypse will not take place in Heaven, nor in Hell. All the Demons of Hell, all the Angels of Heaven arrayed behind Lucifer and Michael, battling for domination? That will happen Here."
"Here?" Dean repeated. "Like, here, here? EARTH, here?"
"Jesus, the planet will be a cinder," Sam realized.
"Not all of it," Castiel clarified, no less sadly. "Heaven estimates a third to a half will survive."
"Third to a half," Bobby repeated.
"Yes."
"And Heaven's okay with that," Sam surmised. "With one half to two-thirds of the PLANET being wiped out?!"
Castiel nodded. "HEAVEN is fine with it," he admitted coldly. "HEAVEN believes that the Apocalypse is necessary and correct and part of our Father's Plan. On that basis, Heaven views any… 'collateral damage'," he spat, quirking his fingers around the words, "is acceptable."
"Hence the conspiracy," Bobby surmised.
Castiel nodded once in agreement.
"And you, Cas?" Dean said evenly. "What do you think?"
"I?" Castiel repeated. "I am not Heaven. I think that destroying even a single blade of grass on my Father's beautiful creation is a waste. And that losing a single human life in the upcoming battle will be a bigger tragedy than losing to Hell."
"Wow," Dean breathed. "That's… quite the change from the angel I stabbed in a barn two months ago."
"It is," Castiel agreed, a little smugly, Dean thought. "But then, the angel in that barn hadn't done what I've done."
"What have you done, Castiel?" Sam smiled.
Cas smiled broadly. "I became acquainted with the Winchesters."
"You poor bastard," Bobby shook his head, smiling.
"Hey!" Dean laughed.
Castiel smiled. "It has been my greatest honor," he said solemnly. "And my greatest… education."
"I bet," Sam chuckled.
"What have we taught you?" Dean scoffed. "How fucked up humanity is?"
"How noble humanity is," Castiel corrected, and Dean visibly blanched. "You are, Dean. You, your brother. So willing to sacrifice for others. Sam, here, was willing to give up his life - to take his own life, which is as a grave sin in Heaven as it is on Earth - to save the world. You both put your lives at risk almost daily to save others from the things in the dark, not just risking life and limb, but giving up comfort, security, perhaps even risking your very sanity to keep your fellow humans from even knowing about the things you hunt. If that is not nobility, I am not sure what is."
"Last I checked, it was undeserved privilege and inbreeding," Dean shrugged, "but okay."
"Dean," Sam chastised softly. "Thank you, Castiel. I'm… I don't think we deserve all that, but thank you."
The angel nodded.
"So, if I'm getting this right," Bobby interjected, "all we need to do to defeat Hell is to stop Sam from saying 'yes' to the Devil."
"I wouldn't. I won't," Sam vowed.
"I think the fact that you were willing to die to keep him outta ya proves that, son," Bobby smiled gently.
Sam nodded, gratefully. "But Lucifer being defeated isn't enough," he pointed out. "We need to stop the Apocalypse from happening at all."
"Or four and half billion people die," Dean shook his head. "With Heaven's blessing, apparently. Real righteous group you work for, there, Cas."
"Hey!" Sam snapped. "It's not Castiel's fault, Dean. He's trying to stop it, too, you know!"
Dean shrugged. "Sorry. Nothing personal, Cas. I know you're one of the good guys." He stopped and frowned for a moment. "Actually… Maybe you are just one of the good guys," he added thoughtfully. "Cas, is it possible… could there be other angels who think like you? Who'd be willing to help us prevent the Apocalypse, to stop the seals from breaking? 'Cause we're gonna need all the help we can get, here, man."
The celestial frowned. "It is… possible," he admitted. "From what I've been able to ascertain about the Conspiracy, the Powers in Heaven are going to great lengths to keep the majority of Angels from realizing that we are not, in fact, truly defending the Seals. At least, not enough to keep the Cage closed. It is likely that, if they knew the Truth, other angels would also be… displeased."
"If you could find those other angels…" Dean began, only to be cut off by a suddenly irate Sammy.
"No!" Sam snapped and stepped between Dean and the angel. "He's not doing that."
"Actually, it is a sound strategy," Castiel concurred and Dean nodded in triumph.
Sam rounded on the angel behind him. "I don't care what kind of damn strategy it is. You're not doing it, Castiel! All it would take is one question to the wrong angel and you'd be caught. You know what'll happen."
"It is of no import," Castiel tried to brush off Sam's concern. "Saving four billion lives…"
"Won't happen if you're not here to help us," Sam countered. "It's one thing for you to try to find out about the Conspiracy, Castiel. It's something else entirely for you to, to.. recruit angels. You'll be found out. You know what they'll do to you!"
"Wait, do to him?" Dean repeated, standing. "What are you talking about, Sam? What are they going to… Cas, what's he talking about?"
"As I said, it is of no import," Castiel repeated.
"No import, my ass," Sam snarled, and turned back to his brother. "They'll torture him, Dean. They'll steal his memories and then they'll torture him. They'll turn him back into a, a fuckin' drone, and drop him back down here to spy and report back on us."
Dean frowned and looked past his brother at the angel. "That true?"
Castiel sighed and gave an almost human shrug. "If I am caught, yes," he admitted, "but as I said, it is of no import. And you know why, Sam," he reminded. "You and Dean can bring me back."
"You'll still have been tortured," Sam reminded. "Your autonomy taken away. Again! On what, the, the off chance that maybe you can find an angel or two sympathetic to humanity? It's not worth it."
Castiel smiled softly and stepped forward to put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "It is to me," he assured the Boy. "And it is my decision."
"Castiel…"
"Would you take away my choice, go - Sam?"
The Hunter shook his head. "That's not fair."
"The Apocalypse is coming, Sam," the angel reminded, "Ushered in by Heaven and Hell working in concert. I do not think fair is a consideration we can rely on anymore."
Sam looked away and reluctantly nodded.
The angel squeezed Sam's shoulder and let go, before turning to the other hunters in the room. "I will be back when I am able. Hopefully, with allies."
"Good luck, Castiel," Bobby said softly.
"And be careful," Dean added, glancing at the look of pain already on his brother's face. "We don't want to lose you."
Castiel nodded, solemnly. "I understand, Dean. Winchesters need all the allies they can get."
Dean shook his head. "No. I mean, yeah, of course. But… we need our friends, Cas. So, just… Look, none of us care if you're alone. Just come back, okay?"
"I will endeavor to do so," the celestial assured and was gone with an echo of wings.