Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jack didn’t mean to.

He was only trying to help.

Everything just happened so fast. One second he was back to back with Sam and the next Sam was on the ground, bite marks deep in his shoulder, blood pooling underneath him. Dean was kneeling next to his wounded brother and trying his best to stop the bleeding.

“Easy, Sammy, easy,” Dean comforted as Sam let out ragged breaths.

Jack tried his best to run over to help, see if there was something, anything, he could do, but Dean shooed him away with an angry glare. “Get back!’ Dean shouted. Jack winced at the venom lacing Dean’s voice.

Jack backed up, a lump forming in his throat. “Dean…” Jack said, voice cracking on the one syllable. Do not cry. Hunters don’t cry.

Dean’s expression didn’t change. “Stay there.”

Jack reluctantly nodded, tears still forming in his eyes. I didn’t mean to.

He thought about what happened as Sam let out more shaky breaths.

They were standing back to back, Jack’s machete lost somewhere on the warehouse floor. Dean was fighting off another vamp just a few feet away. Two vampires rushed toward Jack, and he didn’t even have time to think. Jack shot out his hands, his powers coursing through his veins. The vampire’s head came clean off, but the force of the blast knocked Sam backwards…right into another vampire ready to strike. Jack screamed as the vamp took a nice chunk out of Sam’s shoulder, blood pouring from the wound almost immediately. Jack froze, staring at his hands. What has he done? The sound of sliced flesh tore through the air as Dean took out the final vamp, rushing straight for his brother as he fell to the floor.

A small groan from Sam took Jack out of his thoughts. The smell of blood was still fresh in the air, almost too fresh that Jack could taste copper on his own tongue.

A tear dripped down Jack’s face. He was determined to let it be the only one, but others still threatened to fall. Hunters don’t cry.

He needed to do something. Sam was bleeding out and Jack wanted to do anything he could. He tried walking over to Dean, but Dean glared at him again, forcing Jack to back off. The older hunter was pressing a bandanna to his brother’s wound, but blood was seeping through, and fast. Jack heard Dean sigh. He looked at Jack, anger still ever-present in his eyes.

“Come here,” he barked at the nephilim. “Hold this and keep pressure on it. I need to grab the first aid kit from the car before he bleeds out.”

Jack nodded, not daring to speak. The tears were still in his eyes, overflowing them to the point where he could barely see. He quickly rushed over to Sam and took the bandana from Dean, who immediately ran to the car. Jack could feel the warmth of the blood seeping through the wound, still applying as much pressure as he could. A grunt escaped Sam’s lips, and Jack’s heart dropped lower in his chest.

Why do I keep hurting people?

Despite his own wishes, another tear fell down his face.

I try to help, but it always ends in someone getting hurt. That’s all I do.

Dean was right.

There is no good in me.

The dam broke. Tears began to flow down Jack’s face.

“Jack,” a small voice next to him whispered. Sam. “Jack, don’t cry.”

“It’s all my fault.” A sob racked its way through the nephilim’s body. “I can’t do anything right.”

“It’s not your fault, Jack,” Sam assured, wincing as Jack applied a little more pressure. “Accidents happen.”

“Why?” Jack asked, voice small. “Why do I have to keep hurting people? I can’t stop it, Sam. Every time I try to help, it goes wrong.”

Another sob. “Dean was right. I am a monster.”

Sam put his hand on Jack’s tear stained face. His breaths were still ragged as he comforted the boy. “Look at me, Jack. Hey…hey, take a deep breath. There you go.”

Jack felt his breathing calm down, but tears were still flowing steadily down his cheeks.

“Dean was wrong.” Sam said. “You are not a monster, okay? You never will be. You have so much good in you. You mom knew it, Cas knows it, I know it.”

“But does Dean?”

“He will.”

“Will he ever forgive me?”

Sam tried his best to take a deep breath. “He will. Just give it some time.”

Jack sighed and the tears stopped flowing. “Are you sure?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

Jack looked at his feet. “Will you forgive me?”

Sam smiled. “I already do.”

Chapter Text

Sam hasn’t slept in days.

He hasn’t slept to the point where he’s lost count of how many days it’s been.

He’s spent so much money on coffee he’s lost count on that, too.

He sits at the table of the motel with his head in his hands, third cup of coffee of the hour by his side. His head feels like it’s about to explode and he can hardly focus.

Sam would much rather stay awake than the alternative. Every time sleeps he sees…him.

Dean sits on his own bed, most likely doing research on the vengeful spirit they’ve been hunting for the past two days. Or maybe it’s been a week. Sam can’t remember.

“Go to bed,” Dean says, not even looking up from reading the newspaper. “You look like a zombie.”

Sam forces a laugh and gets back to reading his own lore book, words jumbling across the page and making his head ache even more.

“How many hours did you get last night?” Dean asks.

“Enough,” Sam lies.

Dean closes the paper. “You’re lying. You went to bed after I did and woke up before me. Did you even sleep at all?”

Sam yawns and drains the last of his coffee. “Can’t. Too busy researching the spirit.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Mr. Berry? Sam, we killed that spirit two days ago.”

Sam yawns again. “We did?”

His brother stands up, face as serious as when he’s talking about Baby. “How long has it been since you slept?”

“Like two days-”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam!”

Sam sighs, putting his head back in his hands. “I don’t know. A week? Maybe more?” Another yawn slips its way from his throat. “Definitley more.”

Dean stands up from his bed. “Alright sunshine, listen up. You are going to lay in that bed and sleep for as long as you possibly can, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Dean, I can’t,” Sam sighs. “Every time I go to sleep, I see him.”

“Just tune him out. You know he’s not real.”

“I can’t, Dean! He’s everywhere! He’s here right now for God’s sake! When I sleep, it just gets worse.”

Dean nods. “Okay. Fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you just get me another cup of coffee?”

Dean smiles. “Sure, pal.” If Sam were more awake he would notice the evil gleam in his brother’s eye, but Dean thankfully walks away to go make the coffee.

The older brother returns two minutes later with a fresh mug of coffee. Sam nods his thanks and gratefully grabs the cup, gulping the entire thing down in three sips. Immediately, his eyes droop even more, the fog in his brain quickly taking over all of his senses. It was only then that he noticed the bottle of NyQuil by the nearby coffee pot and a smug grin on Dean’s face.

“What did you do?” Sam asks, fear lacing his tired voice.

“Get in bed, sasquatch,” Dean replies. “You’re gonna be real uncomfortable when you wake up at that table.”

“Dean, please,” Sam pleads, trying to stay awake as his brother forces him to lay in the bed.

“This is for your own good, Sammy,” Dean comforts as Sam’s eyes finally close and he drifts off into a reluctant sleep.

_______

Sam finds himself back in the cage, because of course he does. As annoying as Lucifer can get when he’s awake, at least his dreams are somewhat predictable.

All of a sudden, Lucifer appears in front of Sam. Speak of the devil. Literally. “Heya, Sammy,” Lucifer says, a smug grin wide across his face. “Ready to have some more fun?”

Sam’s heart began to race as his eyes filled with fear. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. This is just a dream.

Lucifer reads Sam’s mind. “Oh it’s not a dream, Sammy Boy.” He snaps his fingers and Sam finds himself chained to a chair, mouth covered with duct tape. Lucifer has a malicious twinkle in his eye. “Things are about to get real fun, real quick.”

He walks menacingly over to Sam and rips the tape off his mouth. Sam grunts from the sting.

“I love it when you scream,” Lucifer muses. “It’s like music to my ears.”

“Bite me,” Sam spits.

The archangel smirks. “Don’t threaten me with a good time!” He snaps his fingers again and a long, sharp, knife appears in his hand’ He plunges it right into Sam’s stomach. Sam screams in pain as Lucifer twists the knife and blood pours out of the wound. Lucifer laughs menacingly.

“Now let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

Jack hates being human.

He’s only been human for two weeks, and he’s sick of not being able to use his powers to help.

He’s always messing up and getting himself unnecessarily injured, causing hunts to go sideways when they could have been simple. He’s always letting Sam, Dean, and Cas down, and, of course, today’s hunt was no different. Now he has to deal with the physical pain of being human and being unable to quickly heal. He has to wait even longer this time because Castiel is off on his own mission. How do humans even do it?

His ankle is thankfully feeling a little better, but his head is getting worse. There are invisible knives stabbing right behind his eyes, and his whole head feels like it’s trapped in a vice grip. The slowly-melting ice pack pressed to his skull barely provides any relief.

“Jack?” Sam asks, knocking softly on the nephilim’s door. “You alright in there?”

Jack sighs. He thought he could get away with it. “I’m fine,” he lies.

“Regular fine or Winchester fine?”

Sam had caught him. Jack grimaces as he hesitates. “...regular fine.” Even Jack himself isn’t convinced. He hates being human.

He could hear Sam’s frown from outside of the room.“I’m coming in.”

Jack groans, but does nothing to stop Sam from entering the room. Even with the ice pack and all of the lights off, his head still hurts too much from today’s hunt.

The hunt was successful, but Jack had fallen over and twisted his ankle in the process. He had hit his head, too, but Sam and Dean didn’t need to know that. They already had to fuss over his ankle. Besides, his head didn’t even hurt that badly in the moment. When they got back to the bunker, Jack limped to his bedroom as soon as Dean made sure his ankle wasn’t broken and handed him a bag of ice. That was when the pain in his head started to drastically increase.

He squints as a beam of light enters the room when Sam opens the door. “You okay, Jack?”

Jack nods, trying to hide a wince as the movement causes the pain in his head to spike. Sam, of course, notices immediately and raises an eyebrow. “Winchester fine, huh? Is that why all of the lights are off?”

“The lights hurt my head,” Jack explains, sheepishly. “I hit it on a rock earlier.”

“You hit your head?” Sam moves to sit on the edge of Jack’s bed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jack shrugs. “You already gave me ice for my ankle. I thought it would be fine.”

Sam’s eyes move from Jack’s ankle to his head, noticing that the ice pack Dean had given him was moved from the nephilim's ankle to the left side of his skull. “Sit up,” he instructs, and Jack does as he’s told. Sam grabs the flashlight off of Jack’s dresser and shines the light in his eyes, causing Jack to squint and the invisible knives to poke at his eyes again. “It’ll only be a second, Jack. Keep your eyes open.”

Jack sighs with relief when Sam finally turns the flashlight off and nods at him, letting him know that he doesn’t have to sit up anymore. He lays back down and holds the ice pack to the side of his still-aching head.

“Definitley a concussion,” Sam tells Jack. “Your pupils are uneven.”

He sets the flashlight back on Jack’s dresser. “I’ll be right back.” He returns a few seconds later with two ibuprofen tablets and a glass of water. “Take these.”

Jack sits up again and swallows both tablets and follows it with a gulp of water. He smiles weakly. “Thanks, Sam.”

Sam still has worry lines etched into his face as he smiles back. “Of course, Jack. But why didn’t you tell me or Dean?”

Jack sighs before speaking. “It was so much easier when I had my powers. I could have killed the werewolf in two seconds, but now I can’t. You already had to deal with my ankle. I didn’t want you guys to have to deal with my head, too.”

“Jack, it’s our job to take care of you. If you’re hurt, tell us. We won’t be angry.”

Jack looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

“How about this, we’ll have Cas heal you when he gets back, but for now, just get some sleep,” Sam suggests. “If Cas isn’t back in two hours, I’ll wake you up just to be safe. Is there anything else you need?”

“I don’t think so,” Jack replies, smiling and looking at Sam again. He likes that idea. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam smiles as he leaves the room, letting Jack get some well-needed sleep.

Chapter Text

“Alright, Jack, here’s the plan,” Dean says, handing the boy a gun loaded with rock salt before grabbing one for himself. “When we burned the body, it was missing its head, meaning that the skull’s gonna be somewhere in this house. You’re gonna go look for it while I keep him busy.”

Jack nods excitedly. It’s his first hunt with Dean since Lucifer stole his grace and he’s thrilled to finally get out of the bunker. He had spent so long training with Bobby, and he’s glad to finally put his skills to use.

Dean smiles. “Let’s move.”

Dean and Jack walk to the entrance of the house, shotguns at the ready. They slowly open the door, wary of the spirit, and step inside once they know that the spirit isn’t around. Dean looks at Jack and nods, signaling that it was time for them to split up. Jack obliges, and starts heading up the stairs, gun still at the ready.

Jack can hear Dean taunt the spirit as he enters a bedroom that clearly hasn’t been occupied in a long time. He spies an old chest in the corner, clearly marked with a strange symbol. It can't possibly be this easy.

He drops his gun and carefully opens the chest, only to find exactly what he’s looking for.

A human skull.

Or maybe it can.

He searches in his jacket pocket for his lighter when he hears a loud “JACK!!!” come from downstairs. Jack turns around only to be slammed head first into the nearby wall. Dazed, he tries to call for Dean, but he is too slow. The spirit slams him into the adjacent wall, causing him and the curtain rod of a nearby window to fall down to the ground. Jack reaches for his gun, but before he can grab it, the spirit slams the curtain rod down on his hand. A white-hot pain shoots through Jack’s fingers and he cries out. The spirit winds up for another hit, but gets distracted by a “HEY!” from the other side of the room.

Jack looks up from the pain and finds Dean standing right next to the chest, holding his lighter.

Dean’s eyes are filled with fire. “Get away from him.”

The spirit looks away from Jack and charges at Dean, but it is too late. Dean drops the lighter into the chest, igniting the skull. The spirit screams as it burns, going back to where it belongs. Jack smiles, only for it to be replaced by a wince as another stab of pain flows through his fingers. Dean rushes over to him. “You okay, kid?”

It is only then that Jack takes a look at his hand. Three of his fingers are bent at an odd angle and turning black and blue. He’s pretty sure fingers aren’t supposed to look like that. He grits his teeth as he tries to wiggle them back into place, but to no avail. He groans as more pain plagues his hand. “No,” he responds, closing his eyes. “It hurts.”

Dean gingerly takes Jack’s hand and puts it in his own lap. “Yeah, those are broken alright.”

Dean helps Jack stand up, trying his best not to jostle his hand. They slowly walk back to the Impala, Dean making sure that Jack isn’t hurt anywhere else.

When they get back, Dean grabs the first aid kit from the trunk. “Here’s what we’re gonna do kid,” he explains, pulling out three splints and a roll of bandages. “I’m gonna set your fingers back into place and make sure they stay set with these. But I’m gonna warn you, it’s gonna hurt.”

Jack’s breaths begin to shallow as another shooting pain crawls up his hand.

Dean puts a reassuring hand on the nephilim’s shoulder. “Relax, Jack. I’ve done this a billion times before and had it done myself. It’s gonna feel better when I’m done. I’m gonna do it on three. You ready?”

Jack lets himself take a deep breath before nodding. “I’m ready.”

Dean begins to count. “ One-”

There’s a loud crunch and a blinding pain as Dean snaps Jack’s index finger back into place. Jack cries out. “You said on three!”

Dean shrugs as he attaches the splint. “Sorry, kid. I’ll make sure I do it right for the other two.”

Dean certainly does not do it right for the other two and doesn’t even give Jack a count down for the third one. “Feel better?” Dean asks.

“I guess so,” Jack answers, flexing his two unbroken fingers. “But it still hurts.”

The older hunter packs the first aid kit back in the trunk. “Well, that’s gonna be the case for a while. We’ll get you some ice when we get back.”

Jack smiles. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Of course, kid.”

Chapter Text

Jack awoke to pounding in his head, the bars above him spinning as he opened in his eyes. Once the spinning finally stopped, he took a good look at his surroundings. The room was dark, save for a small LED light right above his cage.

Wait…cage?

He was in a cage?

Jack needed to come up with a plan to escape, and fast.

His hands were shackled together, clearly marked with sigils to prevent him from using his powers. Awesome. There went plan A.

He was missing his jacket, left only in a T-shirt and jeans. They even took his shoes. He didn’t have any weapons or his cell phone. There went plans B and C.

Jack looked down at his feet, noticing that his ankles were free. Maybe he could kick the bars open. Worth a shot, right?

Despite the aching in his head, he tried his best to stand up. He wound up and kicked the iron bars as hard as he could, causing a loud crack to echo through the room and pain to shoot up his ankle. He crumpled to the floor, howling in pain. There went plan D. How many more plans did he have?

Jack decided to try plan D again. Maybe he loosened up the bar or something. He tried standing up again, but another tendril of pain shot through his ankle, forcing him to fall back to the ground.

The pounding in Jack’s head seemed to line up with the pulsing in his ankle. The pain made it hard to think. He was out of options and ways to contact Sam and Dean. Maybe if he prayed to Cas…

Plan E. He had another one.

Jack closed his eyes and began to pray.

Father, please help. I’m trapped in a cage. I don’t exactly know where but I can’t use my powers and I’m injured. I need help. Amen.

Jack opened his eyes and waited. He waited for what seemed like hours, heart dropping deeper in his chest with each passing second. There went plan E.

The pain made it hard to think. Jack closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would relieve some of it, but to no avail. If anything, the pain was getting worse. It looked like he was never getting out of here. He was never going to see his family again.

Jack’s eyes teared up as he thought back to some fond memories from the bunker. About a week ago, he sat down with Sam, Dean, and Cas for movie night. It was Dean’s turn to pick and he decided on a movie called The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl.

“It’s a classic,” Dean had said. “Reminds me of my childhood.”

Sam laughed. “What, when you were twenty-six? This movie came out in 2005. I remember watching it for the first time with Jess!”

Jack remembered Sam’s expression falling a little at the mention of Jessica. Jack didn’t know much about her, but he remembered that Sam still had some feelings left.

“I can change the movie if you want…” Dean said, obviously having noticed Sam’s dull expression.

Sam smiled. “No, it’s fine. I love this movie. Besides, someone has gotta culture the kid.”

“And Cas!” Dean laughed as he pressed play.

Jack remembered enjoying that movie a lot. He wished Cas asked less questions, though. “How can he be half boy and half shark?” “Lava…girl? What is a lava girl?” “How did he just bite through the cage?”

Bite through the cage…

That was it. Jack’s last shot. Plan F. If it worked in that movie, then it had to work in real life, right?

Jack sat up, head screaming at him to lay back down, and bared his teeth. He opened wide and tried to take a big bite of the iron bar just like Shark Boy did, but he just couldn’t get through. They made it look so easy in the movie. Jack tried again, but still to no avail. The only result he got was a shooting pain through his jaw.

Jack laid back down, defeated. Plan F had failed. Cas hadn’t even shown up.

He was going to die in that stupid cage.

Chapter Text

Castiel was getting pretty good at the whole “running away” thing. Yes, it hurt being away from Sam and Dean for so long, but it was for their own good. He had to protect the angel tablet at all costs.

So, there he was, at yet another Biggerson’s, drinking another coffee. He had grown quite fond of the stuff. He had tried it so many different ways with different ratios of cream to sugar to coffee, but he found that plain black coffee was his favorite. He savored the bitter taste on his tongue as he took a sip. Once that cup was finished, he would swiftly leave and head to another Biggerson’s. He was planning on going to one in New Jersey next.

Castiel would never make it to the Biggerson’s in New Jersey.

As he took another sip of the deliciously bitter liquid, he heard a whoosh come from behind him. He spit out his coffee as he was grabbed by his neck and slammed into a wall, causing the contents of a nearby waitress’s tray to clatter to the floor.

“Where is it!” the angel in front of him boomed. Naomi.

Castiel’s heart began beating faster in his chest. “How did you find me?”

“I figured out your pattern,” Naomi answered, smirking. “You travel from place to place, but you always end up at a so-called ‘Biggerson’s’. You drink a cup of coffee, then leave.”

“How did you know I would be at this one?”

“Lucky guess.” Before Castiel could react, Naomi unsheathed her angel blade. Castiel cried out in pain as she stabbed it straight through his left hand, pinning him to the wall. “Now where is the tablet!”

Castiel groaned as blood dripped down his hand. He could feel his grace waning with each passing second. He reached for his own angel blade, but Naomi snatched his angel blade with her other hand and pinned Castiel’s right hand to the wall as well. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” she snarled. “NOW WHERE IS IT!”

“I’ve hidden it somewhere safe and well guarded,” Castiel replied weakly, the pain in his pinned hand spiking. “You’ll never find it.”

For good measure, Castiel spat in Naomi’s face; a trick he learned from Dean. Unfortunately, this only made her angrier. She yelled and twisted the angel blade, causing a white-hot pain to shoot up Castiel’s arm. The wound glowed a bright blue and dripped even more blood, signaling that more of Castiel’s grace was fading away,

Naomi’s eyes burned with anger. “If you don’t tell me where you stashed the tablet I’ll go after those precious humans of yours. I think I’ll go after the short one first. He seems like he’s your favorite.”

A fire burned in Castiel’s chest. How dare she threaten the Winchesters! “I don’t have it!” he lied.

But Naomi was smarter than him.

She could tell he was lying, and that’s what scared him the most. She plunged Castiel’s angel blade right into his stomach, smiling when she hit something hard. Castiel’s heat dropped to his chest.

She had found it.

Naomi moved the blade with expert precision, carefully carving the angel tablet out of Castiel’s stomach. Blood dripped to the floor as the customers watched in horror. One of them had even called the police. Castiel couldn’t help but groan as Naomi continued to move the blade, wincing as he heard the sounds of his vessel’s organs squishing and moving around. It seemed like the pain wouldn’t stop. It shouldn’t take this long to pull out the tablet.

Minutes later, Naomi smiled evilly as she retrieved the crimson covered stone. Castiel figured that she took longer because she found joy in the torture. “Pleasure doing business,” she smirked.

She drove Castiel’s angel blade back into his stomach for good measure. A scream tore itself from Castiel’s throat as Naomi immediately left with the tablet. Castiel’s breaths shortened as more blood continued to drip to the floor. He tore the blade from his left hand with a groan, freeing himself. He took a deep breath as he pulled out his phone, turned it on, and called Dean. Tears formed in his eyes as he came to an awful realization.

He had failed everyone.