Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

March 3, 2021

Akron, Ohio

Sam stares at the ceiling. He's incredibly drunk, and it takes a lot to get him to that point after months of drinking himself to sleep. He's not doing well, all things considered; Eileen is missing, Castiel is gone, Jack is MIA, and Dean is dead, for fuck's sake, dead and burned and buried somewhere in the outskirts of Akron. Sam is completely alone. He has no one. 

Dean would want him to move on. Dean does want him to move on, maybe stop hunting, settle down, get married, pop out a couple of babies he can name after their fallen friends, but that just doesn't feel right. Sam has done this whole thing before, thinking Dean is dead and trying to get past it by moving on, and it's never really worked out for him. He just can't bring himself to even try this time. 

So instead of trying to move on, sam moved into a motel room barely a mile away from where he'd buried Dean and has been trying virtually non-stop to figure out how to bring him back. He's been calling up crossroads demons. He's been praying to Jack. He's been looking for rogue reapers. He's been burying himself in book after book, looking for something, anything that might be able to bring his brother back. 

Lore says that an angel can rebuild a human body and Sam knows that's true; Castiel rebuilt Dean atom by atom after pulling him out of Hell. But there are hardly any angels left, maybe even none at all, and Jack won't answer any of Sam's many, many prayers, so that seems like it might be a dead end. And even if it wasn't, that's only half the battle. It's not like Sam will just have Dean back once his body is put back together. He has to find Dean's soul wherever it is and find a way to bring it back, which is another thing he can't just do. This won't be as easy as trading his soul for Dean's or making a deal with a demon. Sam needs help, big help. 

Which is why he's drunk off his ass and lying on the bed in his motel room, staring at the ceiling and trying to think of something. He's exhausted every idea he's had while sober, so why not get drunk and see if that helps at all? So far, it's not really doing much since the only idea Sam has is praying, but who knows? Maybe the ten millionth time will be the charm. 

Sam closes his eyes and folds his hands in prayer. Jack, he prays, someone, anyone, whoever might be listening... angel or demon or ANYONE... just help me. Please. Do it yourself or send me help or give me the fucking ability to bring him back to life, just... please. Help me. 

Sam opens his eyes to see nothing but the ceiling, the fan lades casting shadows over the chipped plaster. Fuck. It's not like he had expected that to work or anything, but he'd been hoping, and he's still a little disappointed that nothing came of that. With a heavy sigh, Sam rubs his eyes hard, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. Fuck his life. Maybe he should just kill himself and hope he ends up in the same place as Dean. 

"Fuck," he sighs to himself. Sam wants to give up, but he needs to keep going until he figures this out. He pushes himself up so he's sitting and swings his legs around the side of the bed, heaving another sigh before he stands on wobbly legs. It's time to get some food, take a shower, and keep looking for answers. 

~

Sam feels a little more sober with a Cobb salad in his stomach and the hot water beating down on him. He runs his hands through his hair and shakes the water out of his eyes. He has to get ahold of an angel somehow, even if it's the last one in existence. He just doesn't know who exactly to pray to, though, so that might be a problem. 

Sam suddenly has an idea as he’s rinsing out his hair. He turns off the water and snatches a towel, drying himself off and slipping on some sweatpants before he races out of the bathroom to where his laptop is sitting on the table. He opens Google and types in full list of angels into the search bar. The first result is just some religious blog post, but it's a place to start. 

Abasdarhon is the first name on the list, so Sam closes his eyes, folds his hands, and prays to Abasdarhon. 

And Akriel. And Jael. And Bariel, Labbiel, Ramiel, Vretiel, Iofiel, and Laylah. He prays to Muriel and Angela and Rachael.

Please, Angel Jeremiel, come to me in my hour of need. Help me. Please, Angel Sahaqiel, come to me in my hour of need. Help me. Please, Angel Jophiel, come to me in my hour of need. Help-

"Yes?"

Sam almost jumps out of his skin. There's a young woman standing at the foot of the bed, watching him intently. She looks pretty young, maybe in her early twenties, thin and pale with curly hair and big blue eyes. She's wearing a white shirt, a purple sweater, and a pair of jeans, and her dark hair is loose around her shoulders. She's smiling softly at Sam. 

Sam fumbles across the table for his gun, hardly daring to believe what he wants to. "Who are you?" 

“My name is Jophiel,” the angel says to him. “You have prayed to me.”

Sam lets the gun clatter back onto the table. “Jophiel?”

“Yes.” She smiles, this calm, beautiful smile that puts him strangely at ease. “You are Sam Winchester.”

"Jophiel," Sam breathes. He's a little bit in shock right now; he's been praying into the abyss for months without reply, and now he has an angel standing right there in front of him, apparently all ready to help. "You came."

"You called for me," Jophiel says. 

"I've been calling for months. I've needed someone."

"I've heard you," Jophiel says. "I couldn't reach you without a vessel, and it took quite some time to find one. It seems that fewer humans are opening their hearts to Heaven now that things are different."

"So you heard my prayers," Sam says. "Did other angels hear me? Did Jack?"

"God has been busy repopulating Heaven," Jophiel says. "He has been creating new angels. It's unlikely he has heard any of your prayers." 

"But you're here now," Sam says. He can hardly believe it. "You're here to help me?"

"Yes," Jophiel says. 

Sam narrows his eyes. Even Castiel took frequent convincing to help him and Dean, but Jophiel seems to be very keen on helping him. 

“You're just… you're just willing to help me? No questions asked?”

“Angels are servants of mankind,” Jophiel says. “We rarely perform miracles, but we are here to help.”

“Oh.” Sam has never met an angel who felt like that before. If she's genuine, he could definitely get used to that outlook. “Okay. Well, if you know me, you must know my brother.”

“Yes,” Jophiel says, and her face falls slightly. “Dean Winchester. I've heard. I'm very sorry, Sam.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Sam shakes his head. “Look, it's not a big deal. I just need him back.”

“Pardon?”

“I need him back,” Sam says. “Like, from the dead.”

Jophiel pauses. “Oh, I… I can't.”

“What?” Sam barks. “What do you mean, you can't?”

“I can't do it,” Jophiel says apologetically. “I would need his body. His heart would need to be beating. I would need his soul and I don't know where to find it. I can't, Sam, as much as I wish I could.”

“I can get his body,” Sam hurries. “You can put him back together if you have his ashes, right? And I'll restart his heart. There has to be a way. And his soul… we can find it. You can find it.”

“Rebuilding a cremated body would be no small feat,” Jophiel says seriously. “It would take me weeks if I could even do it at all.”

“Then I'll find him another body,” Sam says. “His soul can live in another body while you fix him.”

Jophiel sighs. “Sam…”

“Please,” Sam begs. “It's been months. I don't know how much longer I can go on without him. He's the only brother I have, the only person I have. I've lost everyone else. I can't do this all alone.”

Jophiel reaches up to touch his face. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

“No!” Sam reaches up to push her hand away, but he finds some kind of comfort in her soft touch and vanilla-y scent, so he just holds her hand to his face. “Please. There has to be something I can do to change your mind. I- I can help you. I'll do whatever it takes, whatever you want. Just… please try.”

Jophiel just looks into his eyes, her own full of true, genuine sympathy. Sam sighs. 

“There has to be something you need. Or want. Just… I'll give you whatever I have to.”

Jophiel sighs contemplatively. “There is something I want,” she says after a moment, “but I don't know that it's possible.”

“Yes,” Sam hurries out. “It is. I'll do it. I'll find a way.”

“I don't know that you can.”

“Then I'll try.”

“Okay,” Jophiel agrees. “If I try all I can to retrieve your brother, you try all you can to retrieve mine.”

Sam nods. “Which one?”

“I believe you may know him,” Jophiel says. “His name is Castiel.”

~

Sam might be crazy. No, he is crazy. He's an actual crazy person. There's the slimmest possibility that Jophiel can bring Dean back, but there's no chance in actual Hell that Sam can bring an angel back from the Empty. Jack barely could and he's the most powerful being in all of creation. Sam really shouldn't have agreed to this so hastily – he's only going to end up screwing Jophiel over – but he has to do what he has to do to get Dean back and he doesn’t have the bandwidth to feel guilty about it. 

“So,” he says conversationally as he pulls on a shirt. Jophiel is looking around the room, studying the fraying curtains and peeling wallpaper like she's never seen it before. She probably hasn't, Sam thinks. He's been to Heaven; everything is clean and neat and polished there. “What do you want with Castiel?”

“I've never met him,” Jophiel says, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She does have a sort of resemblance to Castiel with those wide blue eyes, dark hair, and curious head tilt. “He died before I was born. But I've heard things. He was good.”

“He was,” Sam agrees. 

“Castiel was a true servant of mankind,” Jophiel continues. “His love for humanity was unrivaled. Our brother Gabriel used to tell me that I reminded him of Castiel in that way. The curiosity… the wonder… the true, pure amazement and love… that is exceedingly rare in Heaven. I just want to meet someone else who shares it.”

Sam smiles. “I didn't know Gabriel was alive.”

“He has found a new love of Heaven,” Jophiel says serenely. “He cares for the fledglings. He told me stories of his time on Earth, took me to visit for a decade or two, taught me some tricks while he taught my garrison to fly. It was his job from the beginning of time up to the moment Lucifer betrayed Heaven. He taught Castiel to fly.”

Sam can picture a smiling Gabriel holding a chubby baby Castiel, teaching him how to use his comically oversized wings, or holding the hand of a toddler Jophiel so she doesn't get lost in the roaring twenties or the Summer of Love.

“That's really sweet.”

“He would tell me many stories about Castiel,” Jophiel says. “And another one of our brothers, Destiel.”

Sam stifles a laugh. “I, uh, I'm not sure he's still around.”

“You've met him?”

“Many times, yes.” Sam reaches for his laptop. “We should get going.”

“Oh, yes. Where to?” Jophiel raises a hand to his head, but Sam takes a step away from her. 

“I, um. I prefer a more traditional method of travel.”

“An automobile?” Jophiel’s eyes are wide in wonder. “I've never ridden in one before.”

“Well, now you can.” Sam leads her outside, where Baby is parked at the curb. “This is a really nice one, too. Classic. Dean's baby.”

Jophiel spends a moment fidgeting with the car door before she zaps herself into the passenger seat. “What is our plan?”

“Well, I was thinking I could find a host body for Dean's soul while you locate him. We can put him in a different body while you put him back together. And then I'll figure out how to get Castiel out of the Empty.”

Jophiel nods solemnly. “A vessel for a soul must be alive. The heart must be beating, but the brain must be dead. A soul cannot occupy a vessel that is already occupied by another soul. I can heal wounds that may not allow the vessel to survive on its own, but I cannot restart a heart.”

Sam nods. “I think I have an idea.”

~

The scrubs barely fit. The shirt is so tight around Sam's chest that he's afraid to lift his arms for fear of it ripping, and the pants are uncomfortably tight around… certain areas. He does his best to suck it up and walk normally as he follows the signs upstairs toward the ICU. 

Jophiel had been able to locate Dean, but she hadn't told Sam where he was. For everyone's sake, Sam hopes he's in Heaven. He doesn't think he can deal with the post-forty-years-in-Hell ordeal again, and Dean certainly can't. He was more fragile than he'd ever been when he died. 

“Gonzales, room 402 needs extra pillows. You,” snaps a doctor, shoving a folder into Sam's arms, “run these labs for me and get them back to 411 ASAP. Paulson! Where the hell are you?”

Sam waits until the doctor is out of sight before he sets the folder down on the trolley of towels and slips quietly around the corner. 

The ICU is on the fifth floor, helpfully labeled with a faded sign that reads Mercy Vale Intensive Care Unit. Sam slips through the doors and down the hall toward the first few rooms, where he peeks inside. Most of the rooms are unoccupied, which Sam supposes is a good thing, but it means there are fewer people for him to choose from. 

“Hey.” A hand on his arm stops him from walking any further down the hall and Sam turns around to see a short, pretty doctor looking up at him. “You're one of the new hires, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam figures it's best to just go with it. “First day.”

“Oh, welcome.” She smiles, but it fades pretty fast. “I hate to do this on your first day, but we're pulling the plug on Lizzy Langdon. She was declared brain dead about twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, so she's…” Sam scratches the back of his neck. “Um, are there any other brain dead folks? Maybe a middle aged guy?”

“Um, no.” She gives him a strange look. “Please assist Doctor Cortese.”

She lets go of his arm and walks away, leaving Sam alone again. Sam sighs; he was really hoping to find a body similar to Dean's own body, but he guesses this Lizzy Langdon will have to do. He scans the little labels on every door until he reaches the one labeled Elizabeth Langdon in loopy writing. 

Lizzy is not the ideal vessel for Dean's soul; he can tell the moment he sees her that this isn't really going to work. She's a girl, for one, and she's about twenty years younger than Dean is, maybe less than that. She looks like she might be nineteen or twenty. Of course Sam feels bad that she's dead and he hates to think of her as just a vessel, but he's really desperate right now and he can't really wait for a six-foot forty-year-old alcoholic with daddy issues to kick the bucket, so she'll have to do. 

Fuck, Sam thinks. Dean is going to be really pissed about this. Hopefully being alive will make up for being in the wrong body.

~

Getting a dead person into his car is pretty difficult when he's doing it without Dean and even harder when he has to worry about all the machines Lizzy is hooked up to to keep her heart beating. He wheels the bed as close as he can to the backseat door and hauls Lizzy’s body into the back of the car, resting her in a sitting position. She looks peaceful, still clad in her hospital gown, hair a slight mess from being transported. Sam looks away from her. 

The machines are a pain to get inside. Sam kind of wants to leave the heart monitor behind because it's bulky and the beeping is annoying, but he's not sure if it's contributing to keeping her alive at all and he's not willing to risk it, so he forces it in. Dean is going to be pissed that he dented the upholstery of the car, but Sam just adds it to the growing list of things Dean will be pissed about and continues what he's doing. 

He pushes the breathing machine in after Lizzy's body and slams the door, shoves the bed a few feet away, and climbs into the driver's seat. 

“Hey, Jophiel,” he says aloud as he starts the car, “I have no idea where you are or if you can hear me, but I've got the vessel. I'll meet you back at the motel.”

Sam has just put the car into reverse and backed out of his space when he catches sight of something in the corner of his eye and jumps so badly that the car lurches forward. Jophiel is sitting beside him in the passenger seat, eyes wide. 

“Jesus,” Sam gasps. “You scared me.”

“I apologize,” Jophiel says. “I see you found the vessel.”

Sam glances in the rearview mirror, catching sight of Lizzy's peaceful face. “Yeah,” he says. “Lizzy Langdon, twenty. She was in a car accident last week. She died of a brain hemorrhage.”

Jophiel nods solemnly. “I can heal her body.”

Sam nods, trying not to burst out with the question he craves the answer to. “Did you, uh, did you find Dean?”

“I have located him,” Jophiel says. “He is in Heaven.”

“Oh.” Sam's heart leaps in his chest. “That's good, right? You can get him.”

“Yes,” Jophiel says carefully. “I can get him.”

“But?”

Jophiel turns to look at him. “It's Heaven, Sam."

“Yeah, I've been. It's not all it's cracked up to be.”

“Things are different now,” Jophiel says. “He isn't alone. He isn't trapped in his memories. He's living the life he was meant to live.”

“In the afterlife,” Sam confirms. 

“Yes.” Jophiel tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I can bring him back, Sam, but he will lose everything he has. I need to be sure that you're prepared to take that away from him.”

Sam pauses. He has no idea what Dean's Heaven looks like, but Sam isn't there… Castiel isn't there… Jack isn't there… what is Heaven like if he isn't with the people he loves the most? 

“I am,” he decides. “He'll understand.”

Jophiel doesn't look sure, but she nods. “Okay.”

In the blink of an eye, she's gone. Sam puts the car back into reverse and backs out of the garage.

~

Jophiel appears seconds after Sam has hauled Lizzy into the motel room and set her up on the bed with all the machines, leaning against the table for a breath of relief. She's heavier than she looks and it's hard to hold her with one arm and drag the machines along behind him with the other, all without anyone seeing him and wondering what the hell he's doing, so yeah, he needs a break. At this point, he's kind of used to Jophiel scaring the shit out of him, so he's not shocked when she blinks into existence at the foot of the bed. 

“Where is he?” Sam asks.

“He's right here,” Jophiel says, elaborating no further. “Is the vessel prepared?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam isn't exactly sure what she means by prepared, but that seems to be an acceptable answer. Jophiel strides over to the bed, where she sits down and lifts Lizzy’s chin. She places her hand over the girl’s mouth. A brilliant white light fills the room and Sam has to look away until the light begins to dim down and settle into Lizzy’s body. 

With a strangled gasp, blue eyes fly open, and Lizzy jerks upright. Sam holds his breath, praying that it worked. Manicured hands claw at Lizzy's chest, feeling their way up to the breathing tube, wrenching it out with a groan. 

“What the hell?”

Sam can barely believe it. “Dean?”

Blue eyes turn to focus on him, so different from the brilliant green that Sam is used to seeing in Dean's eyes. He sees the recognition dawn. 

“Sam?”

~

“Dean,” Sam breathes. He comes to sit beside him as Jophiel stands up, making room for him. He throws his arms around Dean. The thin shoulders and frail build are so unlike what he's used to, but it doesn't matter what body he's in – this is Dean, his big brother. Dean touches Sam's arms like he can't believe he's real.

“Sammy, what happened to you? How did you die?”

“I'm not dead,” Sam murmurs. “It's okay, Dean. I brought you back.”

Dean's eyes narrow. “You what?”

“Dean-”

“You-” It's just then that Dean notices Jophiel standing at the foot of the bed. “You. You! You did this to me!”

Sam glances at Jophiel. “She- what?”

“I met her in a bar,” Dean snarls. “She asked if she could take me home, I said yes, and now I'm here.”

“You're back,” Sam says. “That's all that matters, Dean. You're back.”

“That's all that matters?” Dean pushes Sam away and hauls himself up from the bed. “That's all that matters? You think I'd rather be here in some crappy motel room than in Heaven?”

“Dean-”

“And what's with the hospital gown, man? You kept me on life support for however fucking long it took you to figure out how to kidnap my soul from paradise?”

Sam winces; he had a feeling this part of the conversation wouldn't go very well. 

“Well, not exactly. I-”

“Your soul is in a vessel,” Jophiel explains unhelpfully. Sam sighs. He remembers how long it took Castiel to understand social cues and when it was (and wasn't) appropriate to say certain things, so he can't really have expected Jophiel to understand that this would be a very, very bad way to tell Dean that he's in a different body than the one he died in. 

Dean's eyebrow raises in that dangerous way that means someone is about to get fucked up. “What?”

“I gave you a hunter’s funeral,” Sam explains as delicately as he can, “so there are… parts of you that we couldn't recover as immediately as we would've liked.”

“Sam stole a body from the hospital,” Jophiel intervenes. “You are now in the body of Elizabeth Langdon.”

Dean looks like he's about to throw up. “What?”

“Dean, I swear, this wasn't ideal at all,” Sam hurries as Dean storms into the bathroom and lets out a shriek at the sight of himself in the mirror. “I tried to find a dude, I promise, but I would've had to kill someone and I know you wouldn't have wanted that, so I-”

“So you put me inside a girl?” Dean yells. “Look at me, Sam! I'm female!”

“Uh, yes. I realize that. But-”

“Oh, no.” Dean brushes past him and out of the bathroom, snatching Sam's jacket from the back of the chair. “Fuck this noise. I'm out.”

“Wait, Dean, please let me explain.” Sam rushes after him, jumping in front of the door. “I needed you back. I promise I would've done this the right way if I could have, but I needed you back now and Jophiel couldn't put your body back together that fast.”

“Why did you even need me back so badly, Sam?” Dean demands. “What was so important that you had to rip me out of Heaven?”

Sam doesn't have a good answer for that. “I, uh. Well, I missed you.”

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

“I can't count the number of times I've died and you've just moved on without me,” Dean starts. Sam tries not to roll his eyes.

“That was once, Dean. And it's not just that. I promised Jophiel that I would-”

“Fuck,” Dean exclaims. “When does it end, Sam? When is it over? When do I get to rest? When can I just put my feet up and be fucking happy for once in my goddamn life?”

“I'm sorry,” Sam starts, a little surprised that he's so angry, but Dean doesn't let him finish.

“Yeah, you're sorry. I am too; sorry this reunion was so short-lived. Now if you don't mind, you can take your promise to Jophi-whatever and cram it up your ass. I'm going back to Heaven.”

“Dean!”

Dean storms outside, slamming the door behind him. Sam tears it open and bursts outside, but apparently, Lizzy's body isn't so weak that Dean can't run, because he's sprinting across the parking lot, still barefoot and clad in the hospital gown and Sam's too-big jacket. He runs over to the edge of the parking lot, jumps the fence, and disappears into the trees. Sam sighs in frustration. 

“Fuck!”

Chapter Text

Akron, Ohio

Dean's pretty fucking pissed right now. For one thing, he's freezing fucking cold; the hospital gown is ridiculously thin and Sam's jacket is far too big on him to be warm. The stupid shitty road is half gravel, which is cutting into his bare feet. Dean knows they're bleeding but he doesn't want to look down and see it. He's done with blood. He's done with gore. He's done with suffering. He's just going to find himself a shotgun and blow himself right back to Heaven where he belongs. 

Which is the main thing he's pissed about. He was in Heaven, for God's sake. Eternal paradise. And Sam just tore him right out of his picture-perfect life, dragged him back down to shitty, sucky Earth, and crammed him into the body of some wannabe prom queen with the excuse that he missed him. Dean fucking missed Sam too, but he didn't call upon an angel to smite him just so they could be together. Because that wouldn't be fucking fair. 

See, Dean wouldn't have minded being dragged out of Heaven a year ago because Heaven sucked back then. But now that Jack is in charge, it really is paradise. He wasn't living the memories that he and Sam had to cobble together. Bobby and Karen had him over for family dinners. Mary would make him breakfast in the mornings. Claire and Kaia would come over to the house and tell Dean all of their stories about training with the mortal garrison. Charlie would drag him to the park for LARPing events. And sure, he missed Sam and Jody and even occasionally John, but Dean's life was nearly perfect for once in his miserable existence. 

He's not sure where to go, but he can figure it out. He might look like Miss America, but he's still Dean Winchester, and he can figure this out. He's just not sure where to find a gun. Maybe he can rob a pharmacy and pop a couple of everything. Or he can jump in front of a car on the interstate. Or he can break into someone's shed and chug a gallon of gasoline or something. But who knows – maybe killing himself in this body means this will be his body forever in Heaven. Fuck. 

He's just wandering down the side of the road, cursing Sam and plotting his own death when the blip of police sirens comes from behind him. Dean sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes. Of course. Of-fucking-course he gets spotted by Highway Patrol right now. 

The cruiser comes to a slow roll beside him, but Dean keeps walking. He hasn’t done anything wrong, so they can’t book him. But the siren blips again, the driver’s side window rolls down, and the deputy inside calls out to him. 

“Hey!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean yells back. 

“Didn’t say you did, honey,” the guy calls. Dean resists the urge to vomit up every organ in his body at the endearment and just rolls his eyes instead. “Look, it’s freezin’ out and you ain’t wearin’ much. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll get you sorted out?”

“No, thanks.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Someone’s gotta be lookin’ for you.” 

Dean stops walking with a frustrated huff. On one hand, he doesn’t want to go with this guy, but on the other, he’s now a vulnerable young woman who could be preyed upon by anyone. Plus, it’s not like Sam is going to be filing a missing persons report on a dead girl, so the police station might be safe. 

“We’ll get you some clothes and we’ll get you home,” the deputy persuades. Dean sighs. It’s not like he’ll be trapped there… maybe he can get himself some clothes and enough money for a fake ID and skip town. 

“Fine.” 

He opens the back door of the car and climbs inside, pulling it closed behind him. The deputy rolls up his window and starts the car again. 

“What exactly are you doin’ out here without any shoes on, anyway? You could catch your death of cold real quick like that.” 

“I wasn’t exactly planning to be out like this,” Dean mutters. He doesn’t really want to be talking to this guy, but it’s better than being scooped up off the side of the road by Sam, or worse, some rando. He cranes his neck to look into the rearview mirror to get a sight of himself. 

He – she – looks like a wreck. His skin is pale and a little clammy from the cool mist outside. His hair is a mess; it’s basically all frizz. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold, his eyes are watery, and he’s shivering like crazy in his thin hospital gown. 

“Well, we’ll get you right,” the deputy says. “Don’t you worry.” 

Dean’s not really worried; he’s more pissed than anything. Sam had held him in his arms, told him it was okay, and promised – fucking promised – that he wouldn’t bring him back. Dean wanted rest. He’s earned rest, and Sam knew that.

Sure, did he want to go out like that? Of course not. It’s stupid to have died on a routine fucking vamp hunt. Dean had always hoped he was too good at his job for a death like that, but it was always the most likely way out and he always knew it. He’d just… ultimately, he had died the way he wanted to, in Sam’s arms, feeling loved. It felt like a decent end. But now he’s back where he’s pissed at Sam, most of his friends and family are dead, and there’s work to be done. It doesn’t feel fair. 

The deputy whistles some song on the radio the whole way back into civilization. Dean had been walking for a while, but he apparently hadn’t made it very far at all since it takes them less than five minutes to get to the motel. The Impala is gone from the parking lot. Sam and Jophi- Jophiel? They must be gone. Dean doesn’t really care where they are; he’s going to go right back to Heaven anyway and it’s not like he needs Sam’s permission. 

But he did need Sam’s permission. Dean needed Sam to hold his hand and tell him it was okay to go. He wouldn’t have gone if his baby brother hadn’t said it was okay. 

He shakes that memory out of his mind. 

The cruiser rolls to a stop at the police station and Dean slips out of the backseat. The pavement is wet and cold under his bare feet and he’s still cold as he draws Sam’s jacket tighter around his shoulders. Something in his chest feels tight and sad at the feeling of the old suede, like he’s about to start crying. Dean squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath to make it go away. Boys don’t cry, John’s voice says, so Dean stops. 

The deputy takes him inside and has him sit down while he gets some clothes from the lost and found. Dean ends up in a pair of track pants, a tank top, a Stark State College hoodie, a pair of dirty sneakers, and Sam’s jacket. He’s uncomfortable as hell, but he’s less cold, and it’s a lot better than nothing. 

“Alright, little lady, who can I call for you?” the deputy asks, picking up the phone. Dean shrugs.

“I can catch the bus home from here if you’ve got a couple bucks.”

“Nah, honey, I’d like to see you home myself. What’s a good name for you?” 

“Uh…” Dean tries to think. What did Jophiel call him? Elizabeth, he thinks. He shouldn’t use that name, then. “Uh, Lauren. Lauren Bonham.” 

“Alright, Lauren, take a seat. I’m going to make some calls.” The deputy kind of just stares at Dean for a moment while Dean stares back, not sitting down. “Well, go on.” 

Dean sighs and flops down into the chair next to the deputy’s desk. He could be in his own house up in Heaven right now, reclined in front of Doctor Sexy with a roast in the oven and a beer in his hand. But no, he’s here in Fuckville, USA. Fuck, this is going to be a long day. 

~

Sam presses harder on the gas. This is so not how he thought today was going to go. Yeah, there was the possibility that Dean wouldn’t be psyched to be back on Earth, but Sam wasn’t really expecting him to be overtly hostile about it. Heaven wasn’t that great the last time he went, so he’d kind of convinced himself that he was saving Dean from something, but maybe he wasn’t. Apparently he wasn’t. 

He could be out looking for Dean, but Sam knows better than to underestimate how far his brother could’ve gotten in an hour. For all he knows, Dean could be on a bus headed across the country or he could’ve killed himself already and zapped his soul right back to Heaven. So when Sam didn’t find him after circling the surrounding neighborhood for an hour, he decided to focus his energy elsewhere, namely on finding Eileen. 

Sam had tried to find Eileen after Dean’s death, but he was mostly focused on finding a way to bring Dean back and never made it very far. But two heads are better than one, and if he can find Eileen, he’s sure he can recruit her to help him find Dean. Besides, Dean likes Eileen. He trusts her. Sam is sure that he’ll listen to her more than he’ll listen to Sam. 

So Sam went back to the motel, packed up his meager belongings, and piled them, along with Jophiel, into the car. The angel had been waiting in the motel room while he searched for Dean, flipping through one of the magazines she’d found lying around. Sam isn’t sure, but it might’ve been one of Dean’s favorite editions of Busty Asian Beauties. Sam had never liked those magazines, but he hadn’t been able to part with that particular one. 

“Put that down,” he’d told Jophiel, snatching it away maybe a bit too roughly. “We’ve got to go.” 

“I want to take the book,” Jophiel had said, so Sam, cheeks flaming with shame, allowed her to bring the magazine along on the ride. Now they’re sitting in the front seat of the Impala, sailing down the interstate toward Yellow Springs, where Jophiel had very confidently said that Eileen was hunting. He’s not sure how she knew that, but it’s the first lead he’s had in a while, so he’s willing to take a chance on it. Jophiel is flipping through the magazine while Sam worries about Dean and occasionally acknowledging the very awkward information Jophiel is giving him about the women in the magazine. 

“Let’s put that away,” he says after a while, not sure he can handle another random outburst of information about a pornstar’s traumatic childhood. “You’ll get carsick if you keep reading.”

Jophiel doesn’t question him, letting him take the magazine away. “We are nearly there.”

“You’re sure she’s here?” 

“I got reports of a female hunter tracking a shapeshifter in Yellow Springs, Ohio,” Jophiel says. “According to my knowledge of your friend and the information I received from my brother, this should be Eileen Leahy.” 

“Where- who told you she was here?”

“A messenger angel,” Jophiel says. “Specifically my brother Malach. God has created a new garrison of angels whose job is to pass messages between Heaven and Earth.”

“I thought angel radio could do that.”

“They can carry messages from an angel in Heaven to an angel on Earth, but they are designed to bring messages to earthly loved ones from souls in Heaven,” Jophiel says. “What you might call ‘signs’.” 

“Oh.” That’s kind of beautiful, Sam thinks. He briefly wonders if anyone has ever sent him a message that he hadn’t noticed. “Cool.” 

The rest of the drive to Yellow Springs passes in relative silence. Jophiel seems very interested in what’s happening around them, staring at fields of flowers, pastures of cows, and the fat, rain-heavy clouds hanging over the horizon. Besides Castiel, Sam has never seen an angel so interested in humanity before. All the other angels he’s met have been relatively indifferent toward the little things. 

They reach Yellow Springs before nightfall. Sam pulls the Impala into the parking lot of a small motel, grabs his duffel bag from the trunk, and leads Jophiel into the office, where a seedy-looking guy glances up from behind the desk. 

“Checkin’ in?”

“Yeah, for two.” Sam sets his bag down and reaches into his pocket for one of his credit cards. “Hey, have you happened to run into a friend of mine? Goes by Lillian O’Grady?” 

“Yeah, actually.” The guy swipes Sam’s card with a yawn. “Checked in two days ago, haven’t seen her since.”

Sam nods. “Thanks.”

Jophiel trails after Sam as they leave the office. “I was under the impression we were looking for Eileen Leahy.”

“We are,” Sam says. “She used a fake name.”

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes hunters have to do things that are… legally… wrong.” Sam unlocks the door to their room and flicks on the lights. “We have to use fake names so the police don’t find us.” 

“Have you done things that are legally wrong?”

Let’s see, credit card fraud, grand theft, breaking and entering, kidnapping, murder…

“Once or twice.” 

Jophiel hums. “I never have.”

“Let’s try to keep it that way,” Sam says. “Look, thank you for everything. I know it’s been a hard few days, but I really appreciate your help. And you can go, you know, if you have other things to be doing.”

“I want to stay,” Jophiel says. Sam smiles. 

“Well, I know angels don’t sleep, but I’ve got to get a couple hours. You wanna watch some TV or something?” 

“TV?”

“Um, television. It’s pretty cool.” Sam reaches for the remote and turns the TV on. Jophiel cocks her head, interested, as the blue light fills the room. “Look, Scooby-Doo is on.” 

“The dog is talking,” Jophiel says. “Dogs don’t do that.” 

“No, I know, it’s fiction.”

“I’m not familiar with fiction like this.” 

“Alright, well, watch a couple episodes. I’ll be up soon.” Sam watches as she sets herself on the edge of her bed before he ducks into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He’s really tired, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to get a lot of sleep tonight; he’s too worried about Dean. Sam just hopes that they can find Eileen, track Dean down, and set things right before it’s too late. 

~

It’s still dark when Sam is jerked suddenly and violently out of sleep by the sound of a gunshot. He gasps, shooting up and scrambling for his gun, which falls off the nightstand with a clatter. Sam feels around for it for a moment before he decides to flick on the lamp and look for it. 

“What the hell?” 

He cocks his gun, pointing it into the darkness of the room before his eyes adjust and he finds himself staring at Eileen. She’s pointing her gun at Jophiel, who is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, bleeding profusely from a wound to her chest. Eileen whirls around and points her gun at Sam, who lowers his in confusion. 

“Eileen?”

“What are you doing here?” Eileen asks fiercely. “How did you find me?”

“I- Sam pushes himself up so he can sign the answer to her while he speaks. “Jophiel is an angel. She knew where you were.”

Eileen lowers her gun slightly. “An angel?” 

“Like Castiel,” Sam says. 

“I thought all the angels were dead,” Eileen says. 

“God has replenished Heaven,” Jophiel says, much too quietly for Eileen to hear her. 

“You need to sign it,” Sam says. “She’s deaf. Do you know sign language?” 

“I am fluent in every language,” Jophiel says, then signs, “God has renewed Heaven with new angels. I am among them. My name is Jophiel, and I am here to help.”

Eileen lowers her gun all the way. “Wow,” she says. “Okay. I didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I,” Sam says. “I was hoping there were still some angels out there, but I didn’t know Jack was creating new ones.”

“What did you need her help with?” Eileen asks. 

“I brought Dean back,” Sam says. “She brought his soul down from Heaven and we put him into a vessel until we can fix his body. But he’s missing.”

The corner of Eileen’s mouth quirks up. “I would think you could track him down,” she says. “Are you losing your touch?”

Sam laughs sheepishly. “Uh, no. I could find him. It’s just… he’s super pissed with me right now, and I know he won’t listen to anything I try to say. I thought if I could find you, he might listen to you, so…”

Eileen rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling fondly. “I’m flattered that you came to find me just so I could help,” she says. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Sam starts, but she cuts him off. 

“I’m joking with you. I’d be happy to help. I just wrapped up my case, anyway.” 

Sam smiles. “I’ve missed you.” 

Eileen smiles. “I’ve missed you as well.” 

~

It’s not even five o’clock and they’re already up, dressed, and crammed into the Impala, Sam and Eileen sharing breakfast in the front, Jophiel prodding at her bullet wound in the back. She’d consulted the messenger angels and placed Dean back in Akron, which is only three hours away, so Sam had packed up what little he’d managed to unpack, checked out of the motel, and started them on their way back to Akron. 

Sam is a little bit surprised that Dean is still where they left him. Dean’s resourceful; even in an unfamiliar body, he could hustle up enough cash for a fake ID and a bus ticket anywhere he wanted. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be, yet Jophiel swears she knows exactly where he is. This whole thing is just so weird and different from anything Sam has ever really dealt with before. 

He chats with Eileen during the drive, catching up from the past few months. She tells him that she had been restored by Jack and went looking for Sam and Dean in Lawrence, but found the bunker empty and decided to hunt on her own ever since. Sam apologizes for not looking for her, and she assures him she wasn’t angry, just worried about him. 

“I was so sorry to hear about Dean,” she says. “I was really hoping you were doing well.”

“I don’t know if you could say I was doing well,” Sam says. “I was really focused on getting Dean back. That… that was all that mattered.”

“I take it he wasn’t very happy about being back.”

“You could say that.” Sam readjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “He didn’t like being in a female body, but he was more upset that he wasn’t in Heaven anymore. Jophiel said it’s different than it used to be. Better, I guess. I just… he always made such a big deal out of how I was his whole life. And he was mine. I didn’t think he’d be so upset that we were back together.” 

“He’ll get over it,” Eileen says. “He’s been angry with you before, and vice versa. You always work things out.”

“I just want us all to be back together,” Sam sighs. “Me and you, Dean and Cas.”

Eileen pats his shoulder gently. “It’ll be okay, Sam. Things have a way of working out.”

Not for me, Sam thinks, but he doesn’t say that. 

~

“You’re sure he’s here?” Sam looks in through the front window of the police station as he closes the car door. Dean will be known by everyone else as Lizzy Langdon, and once her family finds out her body is missing, there’s bound to be some sort of news story about it. Dean is smarter than that. 

But Jophiel is sure. “Yes,” she says from where Eileen is helping her button up her flannel. Her old shirt was stained with blood from the gunshot wound, so Sam had lent her an extra flannel to hide it when they’re in public, and Jophiel had struggled with the buttons, so Eileen had offered to help. “Malach says he is here.” 

Eileen straightens out the shoulders of Jophiel’s shirt and smooths it down her front. “It wouldn’t hurt to look, Sam.”

Sam isn’t convinced, but she’s right; it wouldn’t hurt to look. He grabs Jophiel’s hand to keep her from wandering off and leads the way into the station. 

He spots Dean almost right away. He’s bundled up in this hideously eclectic outfit, topped off with Sam’s jacket, and he’s sitting at one of the desks, looking exhausted. He might even be asleep, Sam thinks, but no; he looks up when he hears the door open and his face sours right away. 

“De-” Sam cuts himself off with a cough. He’s not sure what fake name Dean has given to these people, but if he’s smart, it’s probably nothing similar to his actual names. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Do you know this young lady?” The deputy saunters up to the desk, dropping a folder down before he takes a seat. 

“Yes,” Sam says. “I’m her-” What does he say? Brother? He’s almost forty and Dean looks like he’s barely twenty. That would be a hell of an age gap. “Father,” he settles on. 

“Oh,” the deputy says. “It’s good to meet you, Mister Bonham.”

Sam nods, playing along. “You too. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

The deputy nods, but Dean’s eyes flash angrily up at him. “What’s my name, Dad?” 

“Don’t be silly,” Sam says with a nervous laugh, hoping the deputy doesn’t question it. “Let’s go. Your mother’s worried sick about you.” 

He grabs Dean’s arm and pulls him out of the chair, a little surprised that Dean goes willingly. The deputy has eyes on them all the way to the door, and the moment they’re outside, Dean wrenches his arm out of Sam’s grasp. 

“Get off me.” 

“Dean, come on.”

“I see you’ve stuck around,” Dean snaps at Jophiel, but his face softens slightly when he turns to Eileen. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she signs to him. “I’ve missed you.” 

Eileen goes in for a hug and Sam is expecting Dean to dodge it, but he doesn’t. He lets her hug him, and he holds onto her for a moment. It feels weirdly private to watch, so Sam clears his throat and looks away until they part. 

“I missed you too,” Dean signs clumsily. “How have you been?”

“Hunting,” Eileen says and signs. “The family business.”

Dean smiles slightly, but his face falls slightly when Sam clears his throat again. “What now, Sammy?”

Sammy. That’s a good sign, right? Dean rarely calls him Sammy when he’s upset with him. 

“Look, Dean, I am so sorry,” he starts. Groveling has never not worked for him even if it took a while to work. “I really thought I was doing the right thing here. I didn’t know that you’d be so upset or I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I feel like you still would’ve,” Dean says snappishly. “You often do things that make me upset. I’ve noticed a pattern.” 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Sam says.

“But you did,” Dean yells. “You were only thinking about yourself.”

“No, Dean, I was thinking about you.”

“Oh, I can tell. Dragging me out of real-life paradise just to put me in someone else’s body? Totally for me. Thanks.”

“I just- I didn’t see how it could’ve been Heaven for you without me,” Sam says. “I really thought you would’ve wanted to be together.”

“Well, now I don’t want anything to do with you,” Dean snaps.

“Dean-”

“I had it all, Sam! And yeah, I missed you, but I had everything else. Everything I never had.” 

“What about Cas?” Sam shoots back. Dean’s face twists angrily. “You didn’t have Cas.”

“I don’t need Cas to be happy,” Dean snaps. “Just like I didn’t need you.”

Ouch. Sam tries not to take that personally, but it’s pretty damn hard. “But you have me, Dean. And we’re going to get Cas back, too. It’ll be us again. Your family.”

“I don’t want Cas back,” Dean growls, kicking at the gravel at the edge of the parking lot. “Everyone’s made such a big fucking deal about me and Cas. We were friends. He’s dead. It sucks. Big deal. He’s just like every other person we’ve cared about and gotten killed.”

“But it’s Cas,” Sam insists. He may not be sure what it is, but there’s something about Dean and Castiel’s relationship that’s different from any relationship Dean has ever had with anyone else. “We can get him back, Dean.”

“How?” Dean snaps. “Piss off the Empty?” 

“I- I haven’t figured that out yet. But we’re going to get him back,” Sam says. “I promise.”

“Oh, fuck your promises,” Dean snaps. “You promised you wouldn’t bring me back, and now look at me.”

“I…” He kind of has a point; Sam did promise that, but they both had promised the same thing and broken that promise many times before. “I didn’t think we meant it. We’ve done this whole thing before. I thought it was the same as last time.” 

“Right. And turning me into a Barbie doll? Is that the same as last time?”

“Alright,” Sam snaps. “I get it. You’re pissed.”

“Pissed?” Dean lets out a scoff. “Pissed doesn’t even scratch the surface!”

“If you’re so mad about it, then why don’t you just kill yourself, Dean? You could go right back to Heaven and you’d never have to worry about me again!”

“I’d always worry about you! You’d probably kill another prom queen and stuff me into that one!”

“This is temporary, Dean! I told you we’re trying to figure out how to fix your body!”

“My body is ashes,” Dean yells. “How the fuck-”

“I can put your body back together,” Jophiel intervenes serenely, not seeming to understand that now would be a very bad time to give her input regarding the situation. “My brother has already rebuilt you before. I can do it again.”

“And?” Dean says fiercely. “What then?”

“Then we retrieve him,” Jophiel says. “There are ways, Dean. You must have faith.”

“Oh, don’t tell me to have faith,” Dean snaps. “I’ve had fucking faith. You tell me when that’s worked out for me.”

“I have only recently met you,” Jophiel says, “so I have little knowledge of when having faith has worked out for you. But I know that there are a select few that you would do anything to save, and I know that one of those few needs saving.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Cas.” 

“You love him,” Jophiel says. 

“Yeah, I do. He’s family. He’s my brother. But I’m not going to bring him back for myself because that’s fucking selfish.”

“Then don’t bring him back for yourself,” Jophiel says. “Bring him back for me. Castiel is a good man. A strong servant. A role model. I have never met an angel that others have spoken so highly about.”

Dean looks at the ground. Sam holds his breath, unsure of what’s going to happen next. Jophiel tilts her head. 

“Please help me meet my brother,” she says quietly. “I can take you back to Heaven if you desire. I can repair your body and place you back into it if that is what you prefer. I can do anything for you. I just wish to meet Castiel.”

He’s going to agree; Sam knows it. Dean is practically incapable of denying someone help, even if there’s nothing in it for himself. But now that there is, he certainly won’t say no. Besides, the face Jophiel is giving him could make a dictator give up their country if she asked them to. 

Dean glances at Sam before looking back at the ground with a sigh. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll do it. But I’m not going back to Heaven as a girl. You’re going to put me back into my body.” 

Jophiel nods. “Anything you wish.” 

Dean stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Alright,” he mumbles. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go find my body.”