Purification 3/3
If there had ever been any doubt that what Dean was throwing up was pure demon blood, the fact that it dissolved when holy water hit it took care of that.
They maneouvred Dean back to the bed, where he curled into a miserable ball. Three hours later, he sat up gagging. He grabbed the wastebasket and emptied his stomach into it.
Again, it was all blood.
Again, it was easily dissolved.
Three hours later, it was the exact same routine. Wake up, gag, throw up copious amounts of demon blood. This time, however, Bobby measured it. "There's almost exactly a quart here."
"That's important how?" Dean groaned from his miserable curl, even as Sam burned the mess away with holy water.
"That's the maximum capacity of a human stomach," Sam said. "But why in the hell is it accumulating in your stomach, since it goes nowhere near the stomach in circulation?"
"This is demon blood, Sam," Bobby pointed out. "It's being purged. So maybe every time the new blood replicates, the demon blood flows into his stomach to be purged - the old-fashioned way."
Sam's nose wrinkled. "So once he throws up about 8 quarts, his body should have it purged?"
"Should," Bobby agreed. "Three down....."
"Five to go," Sam said, blinking and looking down where Dean had grabbed his wrist. "What is it?"
Dean was shaking, sweating. Every time he threw up, he would get all feverish. Now, his eyes fever-bright, he forced Sam's hand open and pressed his own palm against it.
"Dean?" Sam asked, visibly confused.
"Never realised.....how small...." he whispered, his fingers closing over Sam's. "You really were a Sasquatch.....and now....."
Sam smiled fondly at him. "I know." He disentangled his fingers. "You need to rest. Seriously. Rest."
But Dean's eyes remained stubbournly open, though they were trying to droop. Finally, Sam leaned in and whispered into the shell of his ear, "Dean. I'm here. You'll get through this, but you need to rest. I'm right here..." He threaded his fingers through Dean's now-larger ones. "See? I'm not goin' anywhere."
Weakly, the fingers squeezed. A soft sigh escaped Dean as his hazel eyes closed all the way.
Sam sat beside the bed, leaving his hand twined with his brother's. He knew the wait would be short - no more than two and a half hours at the most - before Dean would be awakened again by the gagging that preceded the next purge of his blood-filled stomach.
There would only be five more.
Sam could wait.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ultimately, they had miscounted. There were 8 quarts of blood in a normal-sized human body. But Dean's new body was huge, and it ended up that he threw up eight more times instead of five.
The final time was a bit of blood among a lot of stomach acid and bile. Dissolving the blood, Bobby took the bag of mess out to the trash while Sam nursed Dean through the last of the fevers.
Bobby looked up at the overcast sky and asked it, "Is it over?"
"You have done it." The now-familiar voice said as a hand gripped his shoulder. "He is free of the taint of the demon's blood."
Bobby felt his eyes close in relief. "So - no more blasting my house apart? No more vision dreams?"
"Yes....and no. The visions were triggered by the taint - but not the ultimate cause of it. The telekinesis and --- other abilities he would have developed - were caused by the taint."
Bobby stiffened. "Are you tellin' me these visions--"
"Are completely his. Yes. And now, Dean shall have to adjust to them."
"Change them back now. We've got them through the purification, you can--"
"It is necessary that they remain as they are."
"Why? What possible reason--"
"Advantages. Demons and witches will be expecting one - and will find the other."
Bobby shook his head. "I don't see how."
"You will."
"You saved their lives, then."
"Not yet. That depends on one action to come."
He felt his spine stiffen again. "What action?"
"I can not reveal that yet. But you will know." The hand lifted.
Bobby spun, and this time he caught sight of a mop of curly black hair and a tan trenchcoat fading away. "......huh." He couldn't be angry - much as he hated the crypticness and the hiding.
He couldn't be angry - because the angel had saved his boys from a hell that the demon blood would have caused them.
Bobby had no idea how accurate his thoughts would turn out to be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The blond lay on his back, holding his stomach as he helplessly writhed in the grip of guffaws that rocked his body.
Dark eyes narrowed as the black-haired man watched him get himself under control. "It wasn't that funny."
"No sense of humour - always was your biggest failing." He laughed as he sat up. "He caught you! He turned too fast and CAUGHT you!"
With a sound that might have been a snort, his companion turned his face away.
"So," the blond said, sitting up and smirking at him. "You intend to leave them wearing each other's skins?"
"I thought you, of all creation, would appreciate the - humour - in that."
"The humour, yes. The rationale behind it - no. There's more to it than playing a permanent prank on them, isn't it?"
Suddenly his companion couldn't meet his eyes.
"I thought so. Spill, Castiel. What is it? Why was this done?"
Silence stretched out for a long time, then dark eyes met lighter ones. The deep voice rang with the unmistakeable note of absolute truth. "One year, three months and two weeks from today, Armageddon begins with the breaking of the first seal."
That got the blond's full attention. "And you know this how?"
"I lived through it."
The blond's breath drew inward sharply.
"The first seal breaks when a righteous man who chooses hell is forced to torment people there. I intend to stop that."
"Why would a righteous man choose hell?"
Castiel's dark eyes narrowed again. "To save his brother."
"But who? How can we---" The blond froze. "It's one of them, isn't it?"
"And if he never has to save his brother - if he never chooses hell - then the seals remain unbroken for at least 300 more years, until the next pair of prophesied brothers arises."
"So you had me give you the power to switch them. And now you've purged the one Azazel tainted---" He suddenly tilted his head. "Azazel."
"Yes."
"He is still--"
"Yes."
"This isn't over."
"No."
"He could still choose--"
"Yes."
"How long do we have until we know?"
"Two weeks."
The blond chewed on his lip.
"Lay low for two weeks," Castiel said. "Until we know."
"And if he still chooses this fate?"
Castiel leaned back against the chair he was sitting in. "I'm praying that with the changes we've made - that will no longer be necessary."
"Laying low will be hard. What's in it for me if I do?"
The sound that came from the dark-haired angel was strange to the blond's ears. "Castiel? Did you just....chuckle?"
Castiel turned to look at him. "What's in it for you? If this works, you have several more years to tease them before they figure out who you are. If it doesn't --- and things go to hell--"
"Literally," the blond interrupted.
"-then they figure out who you are in less than two. And you end up involved in all kinds of ways."
As the blond considered, Castiel added, "Plus - watching events play out with them in each other's skins might be a never-ending source of amusement."
"There is that!" the blond laughed.
The laughter ended in a shocked gasp as he was rewarded with the eerie sight of Castiel smiling - complete with a perfect row of upper teeth. "Dude," the blond said with a shudder. "Think I preferred the stoic look."
And this time there was no doubt whatsoever. That had definitely been a chuckle.
"What the hell happened to you in those three years that you're trying to change?" the blond whispered. "You're different. More....human."
"A charge became a friend," Castiel said. "And lost everything - more times than anyone should. I'm going to try to make it all right for him. For them."
END