Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air was still, the ground painted red, bodies scattered over the lush green earth surrounding the lake. The ground crunches as a pair of boots steps over it quickly. Behind the boots came a second pair, just a light on the ground, but faster. Dirt kicked up with every step as two bodies came into view, a woman struggling, her hand coming to a large gash and blood covering her abdomen. There is an unsettling anger in her face. The second figure, Dean Winchester, wearing a plaid shirt tied over his waist, blood splattering the shreds of what was his undershirt, an angel blade in his hand. Dean chases after her, swerving around a truck. She trips and Dean grips the back of her shirt. He turns her around and grabs her by the wrist.

“Ow. Asshole.”

Dean brings up the blade to her neck.

“You killed some of my friends in there.”

She laughs, eyes flashing black.

“Yeah, and I happened to like this meat suit. And here I thought the Winchesters didn't have friends left.”

Dean tightens his grip on her wrist, wincing as he cuts into her skin. She yanks her arm away and runs.  

The demon frantically searches for something, anything.

“Going somewhere?”

She lunges for a blade, he grabs her arm and pulls her back up.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch.”

She tries to yank her arm back again but it doesn't work. She glares at him. Dean twists the angel blade in his hand pointing it at her heart. She kicks his shins and gets her arms free. Dean lunges at her but she motions her hand and sends him flying. He coughs and tries to stand up, he is on his knees when he sees the blade is now at her feet. She stoops down to pick up the blade.

“Dropped something?”

Dean smirked at her as he stood up and looked around. No weapons insight. No wonder all these idiots died.

“I'm going to enjoy killing you.”

“Confidence went up real fast on that one.”

Dean looks at the impala, maybe he could make it to the trunk.

“You know, this war is your fault. You and your stupid little band of hunters are responsible for all this death.”

Dean moves slowly as she speaks, every move mimicked by her.

“Yeah, we get that a lot.”

“And that hasn’t tipped you off? Come on Winchester, you know the world’s better off…”

She twirls the blade, her steps calculated, slow.

“So what, you're some hell scum on a righteous path? You really think we asked for this?”

“I'm the one that's finally gonna kill a Winchester.”

“Ohh so you’re just an idiot.”

Dean leads her closer and closer to the impala, the demon’s attention never leaving his face.

“Fuck you. I’m going to do what Crowley, Abaddon, Ruby, Meg, Azazel and countless others didn't have the balls to do.”

“You know, we’ve done the whole death thing. Didn’t stick.”

“Well, let’s make sure this time’s permanent.”

“You sure hold a grudge towards someone you don't know.”

“Oh I know you… there is not a monster on this earth who doesn’t know your family.”

She lunges toward him. The blade shines in the sun’s light as Dean and her fight. Her yells grow louder as a snap is heard. Her left shoulder droops down as she fights for control on the blade. A grunt. Dean stumbles backward, angel blade sticking out his side. She pulls the blade out and tosses it on the ground a few feet in front of him. She turns to walk away. 

“Ha. You know I would say see you in hell...”

Dean grunts as he bends down to pick up the blade. He winces as the blood on his hand begins dripping onto the ground. His hands clutch onto his abdomen as he stalks towards her. She turns around and grabs him by the neck.

“Why can’t you just die?”

She throws him into the ground. Dean grunts as he pushes himself up. She squats down in front of him and pulls him up by his shirt. He searches for the blade with his hand. He finds it and grips onto it as he brings his other hand to yank her down by her left wrist. 

“Not letting some nameless idiot do the honors.”

He shoves the blade into her chest. She widens her eyes, as they flash. She goes stiff and falls on the ground beside him with a thud.

Dean grabs at his side again, a warm liquid covering his hand as he pulls it away. It’s stained red. He stumbles over to the impala, clutching his side. He leans against the front of the car. Fuck.

"Sam!"

Sam huffed out as the vamp’s body dropped to the ground beneath them.  He turned his head at his name being. He runs, moving carefully over the discarded bodies of demons, angels, monsters and hunters alike that didn't make it. 

“SAM, CAS!”

Sam rushes to the impala, Dean’s figure leaning against it.

"Dean.. where's Cas?"

Sam looked at Dean waiting for a response. Dean was still hunched over and clinging onto his abdomen.

"I don't know, we got- separated. You know I got a little busy."

Dean pointed at the demon on the ground beside him, her eyes still open. Dean grunted as he pushed himself up and started to walk towards the building and yelled out. He stopped at the entrance and used one of his hands to lean on the broken door frame.

"CAS!"

Sam moved to check on Dean as Cas came running out of the building, the blade in his hand still dripping with blood. He stops in front of them and looks at them intently.

"Are you two okay?"

Dean looked up at them then and started to pull himself up slowly.

"I think I may need a new shirt." He removes his hand from his abdomen, it's covered in blood. He stumbles to take a few steps as Sam helps him move to the back of the impala.

"Shit."

Sam pulls out the keys from Dean's jacket pocket and tosses them at Cas to open the trunk. Cas goes to the trunk and it opens with a creak. He rummages through the weapons to find any first aid items at hand. He comes back to Sam and Dean with bandages, some gauze-like strips of material, a small tube of neosporin, a bottle of water, and a bottle of whiskey that was almost empty.

"Is this all we have?" Sam looked at Cas. 

Cas nods and squats down to help Dean stay upright. He slowly takes Dean's jacket off of him, and hands Sam a knife to cut through his shirt with. Sam takes the knife and lifts the shirt on one end, the fabric ripping with ease.

"Dammit Dean, what the hell?"

Dean winces as Sam applies pressure to his side, the wound looks small, cutting deep into his right side, underneath his rib cage. The blood pushes through the open wound with each breath.

"Stupid demon got me with the angel blade before I got her."

Sam grabs the bottle of whiskey and tosses the cap to the ground.

"Cas, hold him down." Cas turns and gets behind Dean, gripping one of his shoulders back. Sam starts pouring the amber colored liquid around the wound, Dean bucks up in pain, making Cas pull him back.

"Son of a bitch."

Sam reachea behind him to grab the gauze. He turns back around, if Dean wasn't in pain the scene would almost look sweet, Dean was laying on Cas' lap looking up at him while Cas smoothed out his hair. Sam places the gauze on Dean's wound and begins wrapping it as tightly as he can.

"Can you move at all?"

Dean nodded and stood up, Sam helping him steady himself. Sam opened the back door of the impala and helped Dean in.

"Cas, go in the back with him."

Cas moves to the other side of the car and slid into his seat. Dean turned and leaned against him, his hands moving to put pressure on the wound. Sam started the engine and drove towards the main road.

"The nearest hospital is twenty minutes out, hold on okay."

Dean looks down at his side, the bandages completely soaked in blood.

"I'll try…”

“I’m sor--”

“Cas, no. We’ve talked about this.”

“Dean.”

“Cas. I know. Cursed or not remember?”

“Cursed or not.”

Chapter Text

Sam paces the room as Cas speaks with a doctor. Dean has been in the ICU for forty-eight hours. No visitation allowed yet.

"Can you at least tell me if his health has improved at all?"

The doctor sighed and ran a hand over his face before turning to Sam and Cas.

"He hasn't stabilized, the wound was very deep, and hit at an angle. He's lucky it missed his heart. It did however puncture his liver, and while we have drained the liquid, the amount of blood loss and internal bleeding are all factors in play. We need to wait for his reaction and proceed with surgery when he's stable enough. It's up to him now, but I won't lie to you. He's not doing so well."

Cas looks behind him as Sam wipes his hands across his face. He walks up to them and faces the doctor.

"Do anything you can to help him, please..."

The doctor nods and begins to walk away. He turns back suddenly.

"Who is his next of kin?"

Sam steps forward.

"I am."

"I'll need you to fill out paperwork, acknowledging risks and giving us permission to operate."

Sam nods. The doctor leaves and Sam turns to Cas. He hugs Cas suddenly, surprising Cas. He starts to sniffle into Cas' shoulder.

"Dean will make it out of this Sam."

Sam shifts and he nods into Cas' shoulder and lets him go.

"I know, it's just if something does happen. That's it you know, no more redo, no more deals or resurrections. Billie said as much. We get tossed into the empty. Whatever that means."

Cas walks to a chair and plops down.

“I know…”

“I’m gonna go fill out the paperwork. Will you go get us some food Cas?”

Sam tossed the keys towards Cas, who catches them and turns to leave. He walks around the corner towards the elevator. He presses the button and waits, spotting a directory. He bounces the keys in his hands, putting them in his pocket. Cas runs his finger down the lettering of the directory stopping at the word : CHAPEL.”

Ding. 

A nurse steps out of the elevator tugging at the stethoscope around her neck. She turns and walks in the direction Cas came from, only to stop in front of a closed window. She looks at her reflection and fixes the stray hairs. As she fixes her hair she smiles and begins to hum.

O, O Death…

When Cas reaches the chapel, a few people are still inside. It is small, a few stained glass windows above eye level illuminating the room in soft colors. A memory flashes in Cas’s mind from years ago, stained glass portraits, choking tongues, and voices in his head. The chapel would have given Castiel peace in the past. Now as he looks at its patrons, an older couple, two younger adults on opposite ends of the room and a stroller parked behind a small child playing with a small angel plush, he feels the familiar weight of guilt. Two of the people in front of him stand, wipe their own eyes and walk out. The child grips along the benches to walk along the room and reaches Cas, the child, a boy, no older than two with forest green eyes and freckles painted on his face like constellations, hands him the angel plush.

“Oh.”

He looks down at the plush and holds it close, tracing the shape of the wings and tint of red in its cheeks. 

“Thank —”

He looks up to thank the boy and return the toy, but finds no one there. He sets the plush down at his side and waits. A few minutes pass by before he is completely alone, his jacket is now on the bench. He walks up to the pew and kneels in front of it. He clears his throat and looks around before looking up at the cross in front of him. 

“Father, please hear me.”

Cas shifts in the pew. 

“I know I risk disappointment in praying to either of you. ”

A few people walk into the chapel and cross themselves before exiting once more.

“I know you may not see me as your son, especially not after all I have done. But I need help. I need to know if there is any way to save Dean. I can’t lose him, none of us can. Not now. Not again..”

Cas stands up and starts pacing. He kicks the chairs next to him, causing them to screech across the wooden floor.  He looks up at the cross, his eyes flickering with the tears threatening to fall, he puts his hands beside his head and lets the tears fall. He looks at the bench behind him, the angel plush popping out of the pocket.

“Haven’t we given enough...”

Cas sniffles and brings his hands to his face. He uses his sleeve to wipe across his face.

"Haven't we all lost enough, had enough pain in our lives. Please I beg of you Chuck, Amara.  Sam can’t lose what little he has left, he has me but I’m not his brother. I’m not Dean… I- I don’t want him to die, please....”

Cas wipes his eyes and turns around grabbing his coat on the way out of the chapel. He walks out but turns back and looks at the cross illuminated in the light from the sky lights. He continues to walk and reaches the exit of the hospital. His phone begins to buzz, he pulls it out to check who’s calling. The screen reads: Claire. He hovers his thumb over the reject button. He hadn’t picked up the phone in four days. He decides against ignoring the call again and answers.

“Hello, Claire.”

“Cas, I’ve called you over ten times in the past two hours. What gives?”

“Dean’s hospitalized.”

“What? Why? How?”

Cas smiles a little, Claire and Dean have become a lot closer lately. On their days off, they would go visit Claire and make sure she was okay, make sure she was happy. Claire has since forgiven Dean and Castiel for their past actions. And Dean, he’s spent every moment he could making sure he deserved it. Claire doesn't see them as monsters anymore, they’re her family. Telling her now, this is pain that Cas hadn't felt since he lost his wings for the final time.

“Claire, is Jody there?”

Cas listens to the shuffling on the other side of the line, he hears Claire call out to Jody and hears the phone being shifted into someone else’s hand.

"Hey, Castiel what’s up?”

“Jody, it’s- ahh it’s  Dean. A demon got to him before Sam or I could help him. The doctor’s don- they don’t think he’ll make it. I don’t know how to tell Claire.”

“You just did, she-she put you on speaker Cas. I’m sorry.”

Cas could hear Claire’s heart breaking. He heard shuffling and the phone line being covered as if it was put down. The muffled sounds of Claire choking up were enough to have Cas crying once more. This wasn’t fair, they had just become a family again. They had just started to truly be happy. Claire brought the phone up to her ear again.

“Where are you? I need to be there.”

“Um, Hammonton, New Jersey. We were somewhere around Cedar Lake when it all happened. If you are coming up here be careful please.”

Cas walks into the waiting room with two brown paper bags in his hands. Sam sits in one of the arm chairs, half asleep with his face resting on his hand. Cas sets down one of the bags next to Sam’s feet and sat across from him, bringing out the food from his bag. The brown bag rips as he pulls out the carryout box, the noise making Sam shift in his seat. A few minutes pass before Cas finishes his food and stands to throw the trash away. As he sits back down, Sam rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and stretches out like a cat.

“Your food is in the bag next to you.”

Sam turns and looks at the inside of the bag. He pulls out a clamshell container, some kale spinach salad he thought Cas though Sam might enjoy, and starts to eat. Sam chews down on a piece of the bread that came with his food as he looks back up at Cas who is fiddling with the phone in his hand.

“Claire, Alex, and Jody are on their way here.”

Sam stares at him, expression unreadable.

“Claire called... I had to tell her why I wouldn’t pick up. She said she’d be on her way.”

As Sam opens his mouth to speak, a nurse walksup to them.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Both Cas and Sam stand. She looks at both of them.

“Is Dean okay?”

Sam’s voice falters as he asks her.

“For the time being, yes, he is stable.”

Cas breathes out and sits back down as the nurse turns to Sam.

“Your brother needs a liver transplant, the wound along with years of what I assume is borderline alcoholism, did not do him well. However, the stab wound is not our only concern, I don’t know what happened to your brother but during whatever altercation he had, but he received two broken ribs, both on the side of the wound, internal bleeding in both the liver and right lung, as well as lacerations to the gallbladder. That along with a concussion that would put a football quarterback to shame. ”

Cas looks up at her as Sam starts pacing the room.

“What can we do?”

The nurse huffs out a breath before taking off her glasses.

“Unfortunately you two can’t do anything for him, at least not right now. When your brother was rushed in, we checked you two out and ran your blood work in search for a match but got nothing, although your genetics are similar, it isn’t compatible enough to do a transplant in his condition, and blue eyes here can’t do it because not only is he on medication for bruising and a few broken ribs himself but he has a different blood type.”

Sam sank into the chair behind him and Cas looked up at the nurse.

“Is there anyone else who can supply the transplant?”

The nurse skimmed over the file in her hands, and shook her head.

“He’s been registered for a waiting list, but again it’s a waiting list and we’re doing everything we can to keep him stable for as long as possible, I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped his face and nodded at her.

“Thank you for telling us.”

The nurse walks away as Cas faces Sam. Sam had his hands covering his face.

“Sam?”

Sam peers through tear soaked eyes and looks up at Cas.

“I thought.. I thought I’d at least be able to help him, but I can’t even do that.”

Cas gets up from his chair and crosses to Sam to kneel in front of him, and places a hand on Sam’s knee.

“You are helping him Sam, by being here, by not giving up, most people would accept death but you two defy it and keep your family together as long as you can. Yes, some of the time it wasn’t the wise decisions that were made, but even God knows that the Winchesters are something to be reckoned with. Dean is one of the strongest men I know, and he will make it. Sam please, have faith.”

“Have faith in what Cas?”

“In Dean.”

Sam reaches out for Cas’ hand and squeezes.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

The refrigerator door opens with a creak, Dean reaches in and grabs a pack of beer labeled “Taste of Heaven.” He takes the pack and a bottle opener in his hands and walks out of the kitchen into the common area. Laughter is heard. On one side of the table sits Charlie and Sam, at the corner of the table leaning in close to Charlie was Castiel. Dean takes the empty seat next to Cas and passes the beers to each of them, opening his own with a pop. He smiles at his family having fun.

“Pick a color.”

Dean blinks and turns to Charlie.

“What?”

“Pick a color.”

Dean looks at the object in her hand, a fortune teller.

“Aren’t we a little old for this?”

Charlie reaches over the table and smacks his arm.

“No, maybe, but who knows how many billion year old bestie over here just played it so, pick a color.”

Cas laughs at her and turns to Dean.

“Humor her.”

“Fine, blue.”

The fortune teller moves between Charlie’s fingers, stopping at the fourth turn.

“Okay a number.”

“Ugh, four.”

She turns the fortune teller four more times.

“Another number, last one promise.”

Dean rolls his eyes. And turns to face Sam, who looks at him and gives him a small smile.

“Two.”

Charlie opens the flap on the fortune teller and silently reads it. She turns to him, grasping a napkin in her hand.

“It says you are dying.”

Dean turns to her then. The room shifts for a second, his vision blurring.

“What?”

“It said you are buying,” Charlie throws the napkin at his face, “as in you are buying the next round of pizza.”

Dean laughed and stood up causing the chair to screech across the floor.

“Fine, but after this one you’re cut off missy.”

He walks through the common room and toward the exit of the bunker. He opens the door and heads outside, turning to lock it behind him. He turns back around to find himself in a high school hallway. Speakers turn on as he looks around, Sam is standing next to him, holding the door open.

“Are you coming in or not?”

Dean snaps out of his trance and follows Sam into an auditorium. It looks vaguely familiar, like he’s been here before…

John and Mary
Husband and wife
Bringing home a brand new life

Dean turned his head, looking at the girls on stage. He stared at the stage as the figures blurred and refocused. He turns to Sam who looks just as dumbfounded.

“Something's not right…”

He begins to pace, trying to retrace his steps, the last thing he remembers is a beer in his hand at the bunker, no, a hospital light above his head. He hasn’t been in a hospital since they found Claire. He hears the girls yell cut, he reaches for his pockets to find his badge, only to find nothing in them. Sam clears his throat, the girls are making their way to them. Sam pulls out his badge and flashes it, Dean looks down to find the badge in his hand before Sam quickly slaps his hands down.

“Sam.”

Sam is talking to the girls, who pay him no attention. Sam’s attention is focused on the girls pointing up to the sound booth and towards the doors.

“Sam…”

Nothing.

“Agent Smith!”

Sam stops talking and turns to face Dean.

“Sorry, is something wrong?”

Dean squints the room blurring and refocusing for the second time, he feels a wetness on his side. He moves his hand over the area, a deep red now staining his hand.

“I think, I think I might be dying.”

Dean’s knees falter and he falls back, leaning on a nearby wall. Sam moves to him, his hand grasping onto Dean’s jacket to see the side Dean is holding. Nothing, it’s gone.

“Dean, I don’t see anything. What’s going on?”

Dean pulls himself up and looks at his hands, the calloused, roughness free of blood.

“I don’t know.”

Dean heads for the door, the light from the outside blinding him for a second. Sam’s hair bounces as he jogs to catch up to Dean, in front of him.

“Dean, where are you going?”

Dean stops in front of the car, and turns to Sam.

“This…” Dean waves his hand at the school then around him, “this isn’t real. None of it. I’m probably stuck in some back alley or if I’m lucky a damn hospital bed.. The real you, the real Cas? I have no idea if they know where I am or if they’re doing something immensely stupid to save my ass.”

“Do you know how insane that sounds?”

“Really? Then how do I know that you thought of your days as a theater geek, when you first walked in? Huh? Or that Marie in there? She’s in danger because Calliope, the muse, is waiting to feast on her?”

“I don’t know Dean. Let me help you at least.”

Dean sighs and nods him over to the car. Sam gets in the passenger’s seat. And closes the door. Dean walks around to the driver’s seat and gets in. He places the keys in the engine, and starts the car. It stalls. He tries again, and looks up.

*static*

“Dean.”

It is now dark outside. He looks to his side, Sam is gone.

“Dean, what do you see?”

Dean snaps out of his daze.

“Sorry what?”

“I said, what do you see?”

Cas’ voice emanates through the car radio.

“Um, my dash. I’m in the impala, I see nothing but asphalt.”

“Okay, for you it’s a road.”

“Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m dying.”

“Yes, condolences.”

Dean exhales loudly, he hits his head on the steering wheel causing the horn to blare.

“No, Cas. I mean I wasn’t here a minute ago. I was just on a case with Sammy. A case that is 5 years ahead of this memory.”

“If what you say is true, then you are in no current danger from this memory, but we do need to find you a way out… and soon.”

Cas pops up beside Dean with a rustle of wings. Dean jumps.

“Dammit Cas, warn a guy.”

Cas stares at him intently.

“You’re different, your soul. It’s still so bright but it looks so different.”

“Yeah, it’s ahh been through some shit.”

Cas nods. He looks at Dean expectantly.

“What?”

“I don’t know the situation, Dean, I cannot offer assistance if I don’t know what we need to do.”

“Oh, cliffnotes- shit went south. I mean we beat Lucifer, ganked some evil sons of bitches but things got bad. And I mean like the apocalypse looks like child’s play type bad. How much can I tell you without it being fuck up the timeline thing?”

Cas tilts his head slightly.

“I am not sure. Whatever you believe is relevant, but you said memory. Would that not mean we are in your own head?”

“Ugh. Yeah, so you should know. It's the end of days out there Cas. We’ve had some close ones, the apocalypse, leviathan, the fall, but this? The Darkness and Chuck gifting us “balance” then fucking off to eat popcorn while we die? All we have left is you, me, Sam, Claire, the lot of us. I need to get back, if I die I don’t think I can come back from it, not this time.”

Cas squints his eyes for a moment and looks back at Dean.

“Claire? Novak?”

“Long story.”

“Well I am honored you consider me part of your family.”

Dean smiles.

“Yeah, it took me a long time to realize I wasn’t treating you like family, but you are Cas, you are that and so much more than that to me.”

Cas faintly smiles at Dean and places his hand on Dean’s knee.

“So you said, you have been pulled through memories?”

Dean nods.

"Bad ones? Good ones?"

"They've been good memories, except this one, this one was never so peachy. God being M.I.A and all."

Cas nodded.

“We need to find a specific memory to trigger your escape. Think painful, something you want to bury.”

“Why?”

“Because your mind has places you don’t want to go, if we find these places we may find a way out. Most people stay in happier, neutral memories, but you are traveling to find a way out. Your journey is already different.”

“Have you met me Cas? My life is full of nightmares, literally. How do I know which memory is bad enough?”

“Just think.”

Dean closes his eyes. And opens them again, he looks around him, the air is dry and cold. He stands in a dank cabin, a table filled with empty bottles and wrappers in front of them, a small dim light flickering above him and Cas. He turns and sees a door pried open. He walks slowly towards it, Cas following closely behind. He opens the door to find two twin beds. One empty, unslept in, the other with a figure laying on it, a thin sheet of white covering it. He makes his way towards the bed and takes the sheet off the figure, Sammy lies there, dead. His younger features paler, colder. Dean’s eyes begin to water as he turns to Cas.

“This is the first time he died. I’m out, selling my soul right now.”

Dean clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling.

“Didn’t dig deep enough did I?”

“No, I suppose not. Dean, I know it’s difficult. But we have to find you a way out, if you truly are dying it could only be a matter of time before a reaper is sent to collect you.”

Cas walks up to him and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean wipes his eyes and walks toward the door. It swings shut behind Cas. Cas takes a step in front of Dean and stares at the pile of books in front of him. Dean looks around and sees a familiar place. The bunker’s library.

“Dean, what is this place?”

Dean looks at the floor, it’s slick with blood and kerosene. There’s a patch of tan trench coat peeking through the side of the pile of books. Dean's face falls completely, he knows what this is.

“It’s bad Cas.”

Cas tries to walk over to were Dean was standing but Dean stops him by placing his hand on Cas’ chest.

“Cas, no. Please. This is one of the worst things I’ve ever done, please don’t make me see it.”

“Dean, what memory is this?”

Dean huffs out a shallow breath, he looks at Cas as a tear falls down his cheek.

“It’s me with the effects of my stupidity, I had the Mark of Cain and I...hurt you. I hurt you bad Cas and I can’t see that again. I just can’t.”

Cas nods. He steps back, Dean lowers his hand from Cas’ chest. He looks back down at the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dean, this is a memory, I have no part in it. And from what you told me we are in good standing if not closer than we have been correct?”

“Yeah...”

“Then I am sure that the ‘real’ me has forgiven whatever situation may have passed.”

Dean sniffles and looks back up at Cas, his vision starts blurring once again. A sharp pain hits his abdominal area, as his ears ring with the sound of beeping and voices. Dean yells in pain as Cas lunges forward to hold him steady.

“Dean! What’s wrong??”

Chapter Text

Claire breathes heavily as she pushes her hair from her face, she slaps her bag on the counter as the receptionist stares blankly at her. He huffs out a breath.

“Winchester, Dean, where is he?”

The receptionist turns back and looks at his computer screen as he continues to type.

“Are you family?”

Claire looks annoyed as she huffs out a response.

“He’s… he’s my dad.”

Alex and Jody reach the counter. Jody is still pulling on her sweater.

“He’s in ICU, no visitation allowed.”

Claire’s face scrunches in frustration, she steps forward but Jody holds her back. Jody looks at the receptionist.

“We just drove twenty one hours to get here, please tell us we can at least hear news about how he’s doing.”

The receptionist takes a look at all of them, their day old eyeliner smudged underneath sleep deprived eyes. He huffs as he gives them visitors passes, just as Claire picks up her bag. Claire taps her feet impatiently as he fills out three passes for them.

“There’s a waiting room on the second floor, take a left and it’ll be on the far end.”

Claire takes her pass and runs. Jody follows behind her as Alex says thank you. Claire reaches the elevator first, she frantically presses the button as her bag falls from her shoulder, a few items dropping on the floor. She bends down to pick them up, a few discarded pens, a chapstick and her grumpy cat. She opens the drawstring of her bag and places them inside a small glimpse of what appears to be a dvd case gets pushed back. She closes it and gets back up, in time to see Jody and Alex stop in front of her.

“Claire...”

Claire turns around, she knows she’s been avoiding a conversation, but she was too stressed to think about anything.

“Alex, please, not right now.”

“Claire, I just need you to know I’m here for you.”

Claire looks at her, she nods.

“Yeah, I know…thank you.”

She waits, looking at the needle of the elevator going between floors as it finally reaches the ground floor. They all step in, the door closing as a tear rolls down Claire’s cheek. She quickly brushes it away and pushes the 2nd floor button. Jody takes a deep breath.

“You know, the first time I met the Winchesters, I hated them.”

She smiles at the memory.

“I never thought my life could get any weirder than Bobby Singer’s antics allowed. I was wrong, I was thrown into a world of vampires, demons, angels, and I can't thank them enough for it. I got two beautiful daughters in the process and Sam, Dean, and Castiel have all become my family. If I have learned anything from knowing them, it’s that death is never forever and it’s never goodbye.”

Jody turns Claire towards her.

“He will make it out.”

Claire freezes for a second but throws her arms around Jody, tears streaming down her face.

“I can’t lose another person, Jody. I can’t…”

Jody shushes her as she looks at Alex nodding towards the backpack discarded on the floor. Alex picks it up.

“I know sweetie, I know, but you won’t lose him okay, you won’t. He’s strong.”

Claire lets herself be hugged by Jody until the doors open, she wipes her eyes again as she pushes herself off and steps out. She walks down the hallway, recognizing the two figures sitting in the arm chairs.

Sam is slouching, his head resting on his hand, the circles under his eyes proving how much sleep he’s had in the past few days. Cas sits with his legs open, his elbows resting on his knees, his coat thrown haphazardly over the chair. He looks up and sees Claire, Jody, and Alex approaching. He nudges Sam, waking him up as Claire reaches them, she places her bag on the chairs across from them and goes down on her knees in front of Cas. Cas blankly stares at her before bringing his hand to caress her cheek. She tries to smile and lean into the touch but she can’t, a choked sob comes out as Cas pulls her in. Sam stands up rubbing his eyes and turns towards Alex and Jody, he kisses Alex's forehead and mumbles a thank you. Jody rubs his back as he pulls away from Alex and hugs him, Sam smiles at them.

“Thank you, seriously, thank you for being here.”

Claire, who is still in Cas’ arm mumbles something against Cas’ shoulder. She separates herself and tries again.

“How bad is he?”

Before either Sam or Cas can answer, nurses rush by yelling over each other, a doctor being called from the reception desk. They all turn towards the commotion, a single nurse standing out to them. They see Billie, Cas and Sam step forward trying to see if it's actually her, she turns to look at them and winks. Sam rushes towards her.

“Billie!”

She smiles and turns disappearing into the crowd. Sam stops in front of the staff with only double doors. Claire reaches for his arm.

“Sam, who was that?”

Sam turns to her, his voice tight.

“It doesn’t matter, she’s not getting him.”

Chapter Text

The doctor and staff file out of the room, a nurse stepping back from Dean’s body, the monitors returning to a normal cardiac rhythm. 

“Gave us quite the scare. You got a lot of people out there waiting for you to get between Mr. Winchester, fight for them.”

She walks around the room, checking equipment until reaching her nurse’s station. Billie stands in the doorway, knocking gently.

“Hey hun, once you finish here, you get your lunch.”

The nurse looks bewildered for a second.

“Who signed off on that miracle?”

“I guess someone up there finally cares about the little guy. Go enjoy, I know you’ve been on your feet for far too long.”

“Thanks. He’s been reupped on the propofol. Should give you no trouble.”

Billie smiles and waves her off. She checks over the machines once more before leaving, Billie already walking towards Dean’s sleeping form. She leans close enough to whisper near his ear. 

“Enjoy what little time you got Winchester. You’ll be mine soon.”

Billie steps away, footsteps approaching the room. The nurse from moments ago walks in.

“Forgot to grab —”

She stops. Billie is gone.

“Dean.”

A gruff voice rustles Dean into consciousness, he opens his eyes expecting Castiel. He sees him in tattered clothing, peach fuzz covering his chin. The bunker’s walls are gone, the ground beneath him is now dirt and twigs. He searches around for a weapon, an obsidian blade underneath his makeshift pillow.

“Dean, where are we?”

Dean looks down at himself, he is sweaty and covered in dried blood.

“Purgatory.”

Castiel furrows his brow.

“You’ve been to Purgatory?”

Dean grunts as pushes himself up.

“Yeah and not the one in Miami either.”

Castiel tilts his head. He turns his head as a small twig snaps in the distance.

“There's someone here.”

Dean stays quiet as he looks around, the slow breeze dying out and leaving only silence. He turns at the sound of a crunch. Castiel has pinned down the monster, the vampire.

“Nice to see ya’ too Hotwings.”

Cas releases the vampire, pushing himself off and not quite extending a hand to help him off the ground. Dean takes a few steps, looking at the momentary serenity of Purgatory’s forest. 

"Benny! I would say its nice to see you but..."

Dean taps his head and Benny seems to understand without much explanation.

"You trying to telling me what exactly?"

"You're a memory."

Cas looks at them both and huffs.

"Dean is in his own mind, your entire being is a fragment of imagination."

"Well damn."

Cas and Benny continue talking, Dean's head beginning to hurt as his ears ring and a voice comes through.

“You’ll be mine soon.”

The words repeat again and again.

“You’ll be mine soon.”

Billie was coming for him, that was her voice and he knows it.

“You’ll be mine soon.”

It should scare him, her threats of keeping him dead the next time he got too close. But when Chuck and Amara left, they claimed there would be a return to balance, that it would be their gift to them for uniting them once again. Balance never came, no doors to heaven or hell shut. Instead a resurgence of monsters, angels, demons, and things that go bump in the night started instead. Each hunt proved more taxing than the next. Creatures who had been long dead suddenly looked at them in confusion or in vengeance. It was the angels that almost killed them all, their last memories of a Leviathan filled Castiel ordering them to bend the knee. In the end, it was Naomi who began the movement to keep them alive, to let Castiel live a human life without his grace, without his abilities, as penance for his transgressions. Billie may want to keep him dead, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go easy, not when it mean leaving Sam and Cas.

The crunch of leaves beside him brings Dean out of his thoughts. Cas walks closer to his side, their arms brushing every few feet. The pressure is familiar, nice even, but it’s not his Cas. 

“The vampire says we’re close to the portal.”

“Yeah, from what I remember we should be there soon, right Benny?”

“A few more miles up and we’ll start feeling it. Can’t say I’m too thrilled that I’m back in here out in the real world.” 

“I’m sorry, to both of you.”

Benny stops abruptly and stares at him, wide eyed.

“Now what on Earth are you goin’ on about cher?”

“I know we’re in my head. I know that but I won’t get a chance to say it out there. And Benny, you were and will always be a brother. Cas, I don’t even know how I’d start.”

Cas nods. Benny clasps Dean’s back as he walks ahead, only turning back to respond.

“As cute as this is, and I’m sure the me out there cried his little heart out at the admission, we have ground to cover and what seems like little time..”

“Benny is right. We have to move you from this memory and to something that may trigger your awakening.”

“Aww look at you using my name and everything. Always knew you liked me.”

Dean laughs at them before the thought of Billie sobers him again.

“Billie’s coming. I don’t know if I can out run her. What if, what if I’m already too far gone Cas?”

“The reaper I’m assumin’?” Benny asks without stopping, the path winding closer and closer to a cliffside Dean recognizes.

“One who thinks me and Sammy have gotten way too many free passes back to the land of the living.”

“We will figure it out. They will not get you.”

“Cas.”

“Dean, good things do happen."

“All these memories, it’s like reliving each time Sammy or you were taken from me.”

“And that may be why we need to go through them Dean, you should not mask your pain while in your own mind.”

“Right.”

The leaves begin shifting upward, dancing along the cliffside and entering the portal. Dean knew what was coming next, the leviathan attack, Cas letting him go. He couldn’t do it, not again. His arm starts pulsing as Benny fades from the memory, he yanks Cas up the hill. The black masses strike the earth next to them, he knows what comes next. As the first pops up, he swings his obsidian blade and slices the head clean off. He is about to do it to the other as they turn around revealing Billie.

“Winchester.”

Cas steps in front of him, angel blade ready.

“Calm down, I’m not here to take him. Yet.”

Dean pulls Cas back to him, stepping backwards and inching closer to the portal. Billie smiles following them up, carefree.

“Oh go ahead, try and find the way out. You have strength, but is it enough? Your angel can’t heal you. And Death, well no one has heard from him since Amara got out, so I doubt he’d do you any favors.”

“I may not be able to heal Dean, but you? I can hurt.”

Billie stops and takes in Cas, as if looking at him for the first time. The angel blade is out and pointed straight at her. Though they are a few feet away from the portal, Dean can feel it pulling at his body. Billie hesitates, confusion painting her face for a fraction of a second, eyes still trained on Cas.

“Death’s alive?” 

“He’s Death, you thought a scythe to the chest would stop a primordial being?”

It made sense that Death was never truly gone even if Dean had seen the damage the scythe had done. It made him wonder, could Death have sent Billie or was she acting out some vendetta like every other monster?  He decides to take a gamble anyway.

“Death has no idea you’re here does he?”

Billie bristles. Well that answers that question. Dean lunges for the portal and yanks Cas with him, the bright blue encasing them as they are ejected into another field. People in leather vests and dark robes start to run towards them, a black flag with the tree of life on display. Cas pulls out his angel blade again, preparing himself. Dean grabs onto Cas and shakes his head, the cheap blonde wig tickling his neck. Dean sees Sam and Charlie run toward the mass of people, fighting and yelling out attacks.

“What is this?”

Before Dean can reply, he winces in pain. He reaches for his side and sees blood as he moves it back. Cas holds him up and they walk until they are at the tents. They see Sam following close behind.

“Cas??”

“Sammy, it’s fine. I called him.”

“Hello, Sam.”

Cas steps away minutely as Dean’s pain seems to subside. Dean looks back down at his hands, there is no trance of blood.

“Right. Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Dean and Sam step away. Sam’s painted face is almost ruined by his own hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Dean, didn’t we just angel proof? Why call him?”

They stare at each other for a minute before Dean groans.

“Alright. Um, this,” he motions toward the entire park, “is a memory. I’m dying out there, and Cas is helping me work my way through some memories to try and get out.”

Sam blinks.

“Say I believe you, fine. Why this memory?”

“I don’t know man. It’s a mixed bag okay, this is a pretty good one but I gotta find and follow the painful ones. And it’s not like I keep a top 10 list of my worst moments.”

Cas walks up to them now and interrupts Sam before he can respond.

“I don’t know that this is the right memory Dean.”

“How come Cas can follow you through memory lane?”

Dean falters at that, he doesn’t actually know how Cas has been able to stay with him.

“I believe it’s because Dean wants me to remain with him. It is his mind thus he has more control over who gets to be in it.”

Sam just nods as if the explanation was enough. Dean can tell Sam wants to suggest something, he meets Dean’s eyes before saying it.

“Dean. You already know your worst memory, don't you?”

“Sam.”

“I get it. But you have to. And if Cas is sticking with you, at least you don’t have to face it alone this time.”

They walk toward the tent closest to them, the draped fabric moving with a slight breeze. Dean pulls it back and looks back at Sam before he and Cas step through.

Chapter Text

The Bunker door slams shut behind them. Cas takes a few steps down as Dean hesitates.

“Dean.”

“I can’t Cas. Please, don’t make me do this.”

Cas walks back up, the echo of each metal stair harrowing. He stops at the top of the stairs facing Dean.

“What is it that you don’t want to face Dean? If it’s my forgiveness for what happened, you said that I gave it to you soon after.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. He can see the blood appearing on his arms, splattered. He can feel the wet blood begin to dry behind his ears. 

“I was a demon, a fucking demon, until you and Sam cleansed that outta me, but it wasn’t enough. I made a choice, Cas. I took on the Mark of Cain and it didn’t want to let go of me and I- fuck Cas.”

Dean pauses, afraid. 

“The Mark of Cain? Is this, Dean, is this a memory of you as a demon?”

“No. It’s just a lot. That whole week was… Charlie, she was running next to Sam in that last memory, she was a little sister to me. And they killed her. The people you’ll see at the bottom of the stairs are part of the family that gutted her. They tossed her in a bathtub and left her there for us to find. I killed so many people that night, but I will never be sorry for that. Not for killing them.”

“Then what are you afraid of seeing down there?”

“Cas, lift your hand to your face.”

He watches as Cas lifts his hand and finds small trails of blood, all seeping into his collar. Dean motions over to the library.

“What’s down there is a reminder that I lost myself entirely.”

“Dean, I forgave you for this. You need to face it.”

Cas begins walking down the steps and Dean chases after him. Cas reaches the center of the war room before Dean grabs him.

“Cas. A minute. Give me a minute.”

“Fine.”

Dean takes a deep breath.

“Is your resistance to seeing this simply because I’m accompanying you?”

“What? No. Cas, this is just a shit memory. I hated that I did this to you. I hated a lot about that day. ”

Cas only nods.

“Show me.”

Dean and Cas walk down towards the library, the books remain in disarray. He hears the argument as it progresses.

I don’t want to have to hurt you.

I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.

They both see as the first punch lands across the angel’s face. Dean’s knee coming up into his stomach. He is slid through the room, landing against the mountain of books, the bodies of Cyrus and Elson Styne’s corpses on each side. They can hear the pounding of Dean’s own fists against Cas’s face, the thumping of his body against the wooden table and the floor. It’s strange to look at, the memory playing out in front of both of them, the unfiltered and misplaced anger pouring out of his own face as the Cas that lays there is unwilling to hurt Dean. Dean can feel the phantom touch of his hand as he sees it happen, the gentle calling of his name before a final slam of the angel blade slices through the book at his head. He sees himself walk off, muttering one last threat.

Dean feels a hand on him and flinches. He turns and sees Cas, blood no longer on his face. 

“Are you okay?”

“You gotta understand, it wasn’t me killing the Stynes that made this horrible, it was having to give Charlie a hunter’s funeral, telling Sam that he should’ve been the person who got killed. It was feeling the mark pulsing in my arm begging me to take your life too and knowing that if I did I would be giving in to everything Cain had told us. I could feel myself losing.”

He runs his hand over the arm where the Mark used to be and exhales as he feels nothing but smooth skin.

“Hurting you until you nearly couldn’t breathe, not stopping until I got flashes of you having done the same to me a few years before it? It was like I was watching myself but couldn’t stop any of it. We’ve hurt each other before, but this was…”

Cas looks at him, as if remembering.

“Similar to what I went through with Naomi.”

“How do you know that name?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never spoke about it. I barely knew her name before... That can’t be one of my memories.”

“It’s not. I think it might be mine.”

Dean stays silent. The Bunker’s sirens begin to blare. Small chunks of dust falling around them. Cas looks up and scrunches his eyes.

“Billie’s close, we have to get you out. We need another door.”

Dean walks toward the hallway. He turns back to Cas, as they reach one of the rooms.

“Do you think this will work?”

“It should, it’s any door. Dean, his… my memories. I did so much damage to Heaven. How did you forgive me ?”

“I can’t do this without you Cas. We seem to find a way back to each other.”

The alarms still flash beyond the hallway. Billie's voice echoes throughout the Bunker.

“Ohh boys! Playtimes over. You got places to be, people to meet Dean.”

Dean pulls Cas through the hall, Dean’s room forgotten. Billie’s boots clack against the concrete floors.

“Your stroll through memory lane is cute and all but this is not deep enough and you know it. Tad unoriginal too, your surrogate daddy did much better, you should’ve seen the trauma that man held onto.”

Dean tries to step toward her only for Cas to hold his gaze before stepping closer to him. Dean is pushed back against the wall with a small thump.

“Cas. She’s talking about…”

“Bobby. I know. But Dean, we don’t know that he went through any of this. She could be lying. She wants your reaction, just stay calm.”

The sirens finally stop, the sudden silence worrying both men. A small grunt is heard and the forgotten angel blade screeches as it’s dragged across the walls. Dean knows he shouldn’t say anything, that they should both stay silent. He decides against it.

“Why are you so hellbent on seeing me dead?”

The angel blade’s screeching stops. Billie's voice is cold, cruel.

“You, your brother, that god forsaken angel of yours, you all came back from the dead multiple times. What makes you so special that you get to leave bodies in your wake whenever one of you decides to be on the wrong end of a gun, angel blade, rebar, or whatever it is the monster of the week wants to use against you?  Do you have any idea of the effect that has on the natural order?”

He could tell her that she’s wrong, that they try and help as best they can. But the truth is, coming back was never a choice they could claim as their own. Each deal was meant to be final, it just never worked out that way.

“You should really take that up with the big guy, he signed off on all three of us having repeats. That ain’t on us.”

“Believe me, I will.”

Cas pulls Dean towards the end of the corridor, stairs taking him up to the second level. More rooms. He remembers one of them being his, how does he…

“ We always find a way … Dean. I’m not a memory.”

“What?”

“Think about it. I have Castiel’s memories, all of them. Not yours. I feel like myself. I can see  every sense of your being, even in this state.”

“No. That’s not possible. Cas, out there you’re —”

“Human?”

“Yeah. If you can remember, you know I never wanted you to be stuck like us.”

“No, I’m not stuck. That was my choice.”

“It was that or death, those are pretty shitty choices Cas.”

They reach the bedroom door and Cas reaches for the handle, opening it. A faint wave of warmth coming from inside. Billie moves towards them, angel blade in hand. She stares at Cas and lunges. Her movements are slow, Cas able to deflect her swing easily. The door shuts behind them once more.  She shifts and pushes forward again, struggling to move like something outside of herself is pulling her back. Behind her, a wall of black goo latches on to her. A hissing voice coming out of it.

“Liar!”

Billie screams.

“NO! They have to die!””

The black goo begins to fall from her eyes. It envelopes her completely, her body now like a leviathan that had struck the ground in Purgatory. She struggles against its hold. The goo begins to consume her entirely, the angel blade clacking as it hits the ground. It starts to reform, Billie’s shape stretched and morphed into what looks like… Sam?

“Sammy?”

Dean stares at the lookalike. 

“Well that was dramatic.”

The voice that comes from “Sam” is strange, its mannerisms similar enough to the real Sam that it sends chills down Dean’s spine.

“Who, what are you?”

“Let’s call me The Shadow. I rule over the Empty.” 

Cas steps in front of Dean.

“You can not take Dean.”

The Shadow glares at Cas, intrigued by his presence.

“I wasn’t really planning on it. Billie's methods were lacking, I see that now. I wanted willing participants, not dead ones.”

“What do you want?”

“To sleep.”

Both of them show their confusion, The Shadow clearly annoyed.

“The war you have been fighting, it’s loud. Heaven and Hell do not hold their dead, I do. And something has released the souls of the damned and the heavenly host’s graces. While I do not care where they end up, I need to be able to rest.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something but Cas speaks first.

“What are we to do? Dean is currently hospitalized and in his own mind.”

“Castiel, do not paint me a fool. You know as well as I do, your presence here alone is proof.”

Cas seems to understand, while Dean stares at both of them.

“Someone want to let me in on it?”

The Shadow hooks a finger under Dean’s chin, their form shifting from Sam to Mary Winchester. When the Shadow speaks, the voice matches his mom’s exactly.

“Mom did tell you that you have angels watching over you, didn’t she?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his shoulders tense, a small throbbing coming from left shoulder. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Cas holds his gaze.

“Dean, you found me in your memories, but I rebuilt you, healed you, and left my mark on you,” Cas lifts a hand to Dean’s face, just grazing the skin with the back of his hand, “ it should be impossible that my being, my grace is lying dormant in your body but it is. Every part of me that lives in you is grace. It is connected to both of us. It is as much mine as it is yours. You’re getting out of here. You are going to live.”

The Shadow looks between them and turns to focus on Cas.

“As soon as he wakes, both of you will be healed. Heaven will not know, your ‘penance’ has been over for quite some time.”

“How will Cas know about this? The Cas out there?”

“Their minds are one. It is simply about reconnecting them.”

The Shadow moves toward Dean again, noting the tears in his eyes.

“I can sense your reluctance, but just know, all I want is to rest. I thought Billie was the answer, clearly I was mistaken. I am old, older than the whole of creation and this war is an alarm that will not turn off. I realize this is not an easy image for you. But it is necessary. Your pain is not to be ignored.” 

They reach out to cup Dean’s cheek and begin to morph into John Winchester, then Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, and finally Bobby Singer.

“You know what I am Dean, you have felt my presence before. Famine, of all beings, told you I was within you. Do not let me frighten you, I will be a protector for both you and your angel, but I do not need to be your home. Let your pain expand, feel it, otherwise it will consume you. Only then would you end up by my side.”

Dean swallows and nods. The Shadow morphs back into Sam for a moment and takes a step back. Dean sees Cas holding the bedroom door open, he has one foot through the threshold when he hears Cas.

“We both know the moment that will release you. Remember that I’ll be with you Dean, even when you can’t see me. Remember that you have always deserved to be saved.”

Chapter Text

“I understand how difficult a time this must be,” a man in a tan suit nudges his glasses as Sam straightens with a huff, “I have to ask.”

“Leave.”

“I’m sorry?”

Sam takes a step toward the man, towering over him.

“My brother is not dying.”

“Sir, I do not mean to offend. I’m sure the doctors let you know of all the risks for Mr. Winchester’s procedure. Organs are only viable for a certain —”

Sam fists his hand into the man’s ill-fitting suit jacket and yanks. He pushes the man back into the wall, breaking the glass on the hospital map behind them. The man trembles, his words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Perhaps this isn’t the best time to talk.”

He falls to the ground and watches as Sam walks away.

A door opens at the end of the hall, Sam stepping in and closing it quietly behind him. Dean lays unconscious in the hospital bed, some color now back on his face. Cas is awkwardly bent over the the bed, his head resting on one of his arms while the other holds onto Dean’s. Sam smiles to himself. Dean hasn’t said anything to Cas yet, but he knows it was supposed to happen soon. I still have to figure out how to do it Sammy. Not exactly like I can pass him a hand-written note saying I love him. Sam moves about the room, grabbing his phone and jacket from the small duffel in the corner and leaves them to rest.

A soft knock startles Cas from his place next to Dean’s bed. A doctor walks into the room with a nurse and two residents, muttering apologies over waking him. They check over Dean, guiding Cas over to the side of the room as they lift his gown to check on bandages. He waits, the steady beeping of cardiac rhythm monitor only slightly easing his worry. He looks through his phone, reading through the messages from Claire, Jody, and Sam.

“Well?”

The doctor turns, her eyes just as tired as Cas’s.

“Has your brother-in-law finally gone home to rest?”

“Hmm?” Cas looks up from the phone. “Oh no, Jody and the girls are heading back, they only had a few days to be here without work and school interfering. Claire, our daughter, apparently strong armed Sam to take them to breakfast so he could actually have a meal in him that didn’t come from the vending machine.”

The room brightens a bit as they laugh with Cas.

“As great as they are in a pinch, I can’t say our vending machines offer adequate fuel.” The doctor clears her throat and turns to the two residents. “Can someone fill in Mr. Winchester on his partner’s progress?”

A resident steps forward, a young woman who reminds him of Alex.

“Mr. Winchester, your husband is healing quite nicely from the broken ribs. During the exploratory laparotomy, we were able to repair the gallbladder and parts of the liver affected. Though there exists some damage to the liver, it is not extensive enough to warrant a full or even partial transplant.He did however suffer a coronary artery spasm. While it is not dangerous in itself, the spasm is something to keep in mind as Mr. Winchester moves forward. He will have to make lifestyle changes once recuperated to make sure his liver and heart remain as healthy as they can be.”

The doctor motions over to Dean’s bed and looks to Cas.

“Right, well we will talk about long term treatment when Mr. Winchester here wakes up. As of now, he is being slowly taken off the sedatives. His waking up and healing is up to him now.”

He has yet to open his eyes, instead taking in a breath of the sulfuric humid air. His body feels one step from disappearing entirely. Dean knows what this is, the slicing, the carving, the push and prodding until his soul starts splintering, trying to reach for something beyond hell. It’s excruciating. The chains and hooks that used to suspend him have been long gone. Their sting, a phantom pain, that Alastair presses down on when Dean needs reminding of how easy it used to be.

Dean chest tightens, Alastair rarely announces himself, always beginning a session without so much as a greeting. He chooses to use no physical restraints, only holding Dean down with a wave of hand. The room morphs from its barren cement and chain features into a cold, wet driveway with sirens in its background. He can feel the pressure of Alastair’s hold release.

Dean looks down at himself as turnout coats wrap themselves around his body. The sudden weight of gear nearly tossing him down. Fuck, it would be this. Play along.

“What is this?”

“Don’t you recognize it?”

Dean stares ahead, the space coming into focus, the sounds of sirens stopping as the firemen stumble out of the engine and head inside the two story house.

“Why?”

“Today’s lesson, my future apprentice, sometimes their own memories hold the keys to breaking them.”

Alastair morphs into a fireman and runs into the house. Dean’s about to follow when he sees a small figure stumbling out carrying a bundle in his arms. He sprints into action and grabs the boy, whipping them away from the burning house.

He puts both boys down on a patch of grass and sees himself staring back. Which means, the bundle in his 4 year old arms squirming and trying to remove the blanket from his face, is Sammy.

“Where’s your dad?”

Dean asks his younger self as he takes off one of his gloves, checking both boys for injuries. The boy doesn’t answer, only holds tighter onto Sammy.

“Was dad still inside bud?” The only response is a nod.

Dean breathes in and looks at back at the house now engulfed in flames before looking back at the 4 year old.

“I’ll go get him okay?”

He runs toward the door, wood creaking under him. The gusts of hot air hit him as he pushes through the doorway. He yells out for John, sweeping across the first floor and slowly stepping onto the staircase. He reaches the top of the stairs and spots a hand, unmoving, on the floor of Sam’s nursery. The sweat in his helmet starts to get in his eyes as he begins to drag John into a fireman carry. He makes it out into the porch before he drops to his knees and notices the firemen he once saw outside are gone. His younger self still stands across the yard, barefoot and holding onto Sammy. He wants to get up, tell himself he’ll be okay, that he’s not alone. But he can’t, the gear pushes down on him as if it is suddenly too heavy.

The pressure lifts and he is transported into a motel room. He takes off the helmet, the smell of diapers, sweat, and cheap beer hitting him. On the couch is John, shifting in his sleep. Dean hears the door open. It’s himself, this time about six or seven, carrying a bag of groceries and struggling to put in on the hotel’s table.

Dean moves to help the boy but is stopped by a small cry across the room. He sees how John groans as he stretches and moves to grab the toddler. Sammy’s cries don’t stop, John’s sleepy shushing agitating him even more. John doesn’t seem to notice the other adult in the room. Dean walks toward John slowly, extending his arms toward Sammy. The two year old slowly blinks and quirks in John’s arms who slumps onto the ground with him. Sammy waddles his way into Dean’s arms.

“Hey bud, I got you. It’s okay.” Dean coos at his brother.

Sam’s crying slowly stops. Dean can hear John slouch back on the couch, hands to his face, the hushed words spilling out with a broken sob.

“I can’t do this Mary. I -I wish it would’ve taken me too.”

He turns to see his seven year old self reach out to take Sam, eyes glistening with tears. His dad would never know that Dean had heard him that night, that the only thing to comfort him was Sam trying to babble out his name. The room shifts again, disorienting him. The turnouts slowly dissolving off of him, his gray shirt and jeans returning. Alastair appears behind him, holding down on Dean’s shoulders, a spike of pain running through his body.

“Daddy wanted to leave quite early didn’t he?”

“Shut up.”

“Going down memory lane always give me… such a thrill. Makes me question how much Johnny Boy really cared about his sons.”

Dean tries to move and Alastair pushes more into his shoulders. The pain radiates as if the hooks were still there. He yells as blood begins to drip from his abdomen to the floor. He looks down, fresh hell hound wounds appearing, flashes of Sam before Lilith’s white light hit him.

“Stop!”

Alastair loosens his hold.

“You know what I need from you Dean. What you need to say for me to stop.”

Dean swallows. There’s no other way out.

“Screw you.”

“Day’s not over yet, I’m sure you’ll have a different answer for me then.”

Alastair smiles and snaps his fingers. Dean has been stripped down to his underwear and is restrained to a metal table, straps of leather going across his legs, torso, and arms. In Alastair’s hand, a single scalpel.

“Are you comfortable? This one is going to take us a long time.”

Dean shifts on the table, trying to inch away from it. It was always worse when Alastair took his time, called it an art that only few could appreciate. The blunt end of the scalpel ghosts the skin over his anti-possession tattoo. He feels the first poke of the scalpel over the top of his left collarbone.

“Now let’s see if we can get all our lovely affirmations written for today.”

He goes in and out of consciousness, the ending of each new word coaxing him into alertness. Alastair has illuminated the room, the florescent lights harsh on his eyes. He turns his head only to be faced with a mirrored wall, his reflection changes in front of him, a fun house mirror of his time in the hospital after the accident, of his healthy body after being healed by Reverend Roy, of himself with black eyes. He closes his eyes and hisses at the scalpel being pushed into his leg. His reflection once again greets him, this time showing his body as it laid, stripped, bleeding, a thousand cuts littering the exposed skin. They’re superficial, but he can feel each of them, Alastair’s magic emanating from each cut. Alastair is at the edge of the table, humming to It Had to Be You as he finishes another word on Dean’s right leg.

“Why?”

Alastair’s humming stops as he cleans off his tools.

“Remember our lesson?”

Dean struggles against the restraints, Alastair waves his hands and they loosen. Dean hisses as he slowly sits up.

“Memories can break souls.”

“Good job pet. Yes, memories can break a soul, now you? You have an arsenal to choose from. I simply wrote down some of our favorites.” Alastair smiles creepily and Dean’s body begins to glow, the words shimmer and seep into his skin like a branding. Dean gets moved off the table, the room returning to barren cement and chain, only the mirror left.

“Read them out loud Dean.”

His voice is pulled from him, the sound foreign on his tongue.

“I hate what I see in the mirror.” Alastair takes his chin and pushes him in front of the mirror.

“Again.”

Dean closes his eyes, letting the tears fall. The words tumble out of him, each worse than the next. Alastair’s hands skate over each phrase, a momentary relief of pain washing over him as he finishes each phrase.

“I hate what I see in the mirror.”

“Good. Next one.”

“Dad should’ve let me die.”

Alastair caresses Dean’s face, wiping away the tears.

“You are doing so well. Keep going.”

“He hated me. He hated what I reminded him of.”

Dean can feel bile rise as he speaks, his mind disagreeing with every syllable as they pour out of his mouth but he can’t stop.

“I was a good soldier but nothing else.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t wanna feel anything anymore.”

“Then let me help you.” Alastair starts, his rough hands tracing over more of his work. “Choose yourself, all I need is one little word. What do you say Dean? You finally wanna get off the rack?”

He knows this is where it begins, the worst of him. Dean has to get back to Cas, to Sam. He takes a deep breath, the Shadow’s words coming back to him, let your pain expand, feel it, otherwise it will consume you. He looks at Alastair and nods, the tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Yes.”