Tell me where we go from here 17/?
Chapter 17
The last time Dean had this much problem with hot-wiring a car he had been drunk, decked a few times and it had been freezing which had led to numb and stiff fingers. Now his only excuse was spiced cookies and not the good ones. At least it was already dark so nobody saw him working on the car in the far corner of the parking lot. Then, finally, the engine came to life and a second later Dean was on the road.
He had still no idea where he was or where the others were but he figured Amy's place would be a good place to start looking. He squinted against the lights of the upcoming cars, the bright light cut straight through his brain and made his eyes water and he really wished he had his car with the first aid kit in the trunk. He could use some of the painkillers right now, maybe then he wouldn't drive like a drunk granny. But the only thing he could do was to grit his teeth, white-knuckle the wheel and try to more or less stay on the right side of the road.
It took him a while and two close encounters with other cars but in the end he reached Amy's house. The Impala stood in the driveway which he counted as a good sign. There was nobody in sight and the house lay dark in front of him which probably was a bad sign.
Dean opened the trunk of the Impala and got some spare clips just in case. While he was at it, he popped two painkillers dry. Then he shut the trunk and turned towards the house.
"I'm coming, Sammy." Dean said to himself and ignored how slurred the words came out. Like a sailor on land he staggered over to the door and tried the knob. The door swung open without a sound and Dean peered into the darkness behind it.
Silently he swept through the living room and the kitchen but there was no sign of Sam or anybody else for that matter. The bathroom and the laundry room were empty as well so he went upstairs. With the same result. No Sam, no Cas and no Amy.
"Great." Dean muttered when is journey ended in the daughter's bedroom. Where was everybody?
Slowly he went back downstairs, it would be just his luck if he fell down the stairs, and tried to call Sam's phone again. Sam didn't answer but he heard a faint ringing from somewhere in the back.
He had to call three times before he had located the phone in the laundry room. He found Sam's shirts in a basket along with his phone, gun and other personal things wrapped in a towel.
"What the hell?" Dean held up the shirts. The other stuff he understood, whatever Amy had done to Sam she didn't want him running around with a gun or a phone, he got that. But why would she take his shirts? He didn't find Sam's pants so that was a plus, he guessed.
With Sam's stuff in hand Dean came out of the laundry room but wasn't one step closer to finding his brother. Then his eyes fell on the door to the basement.
Right, this place had a basement. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it earlier but that would just make his head explode. He was happy enough with standing upright right now.
He put Sam's stuff on the kitchen table to have his hand free and then he reached for the door while he had his gun ready in his right. Not what he would call steady aim but if anything came up to him he should be able to wound it. At least he hoped so. He tightened his grip on the gun.
The door was slightly ajar as if somebody had been in a hurry. There was no sound coming from downstairs and Dean made his way down the stairs as silently as possible.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Burned herbs and a sting of sulfur, never a good combination. Then he saw them.
"Sam!" Dean took the last three steps as one, nearly toppling over but catching himself, and then he was at his brother's side. "Sam!"
Sam was still bound to a chair by one ankle, he had managed to get free by himself most of the way. But he lay on the floor and wasn't moving. Blood coated the back of his head and for a long moment Dean was sure he wasn't breathing.
"Sam." His voice soft now and he didn't want to think about the too many times he'd held his brother's lifeless body in his arms. But then he noticed the ups and downs of his chest, shallow but there, and now he dared to breath easier himself. Carefully he got Sam's leg free and laid him out on his side, he didn't want him to choke on his own puke or shit like that, and only then he dared to have a farther look around. He had seen the two other lifeless bodies before but only now he allowed himself to take in the scenario around him.
"Cas." He crouched over to the angel who lay on his side and wasn't moving either. Something thin was sticking out of his side and with a frown Dean pulled it out. A knitting needle? However, there was some blackish goo on it and around the entry point on Cas' white shirt. Looking around Dean noticed the altar.
"I hate frigging witches." He muttered and took Cas' head in both hands. "Cas! Wake up, man."
He was an angel, some skanky old witch couldn't harm him, right? At least not really.
Cas didn't answer, didn't open his eyes. He was breathing, though.
Dean couldn't wake him so he checked on Amy next. She was dead, no loss there if anybody would have been awake to ask Dean. Then he went over to the altar to see if he could find out what she'd done to Cas.
Sam's head wound was serious, he knew that and he probably should call an ambulance but not yet. He couldn't risk anybody finding Amy or Cas like this.
The contents of the altar didn't give him any hints and it wasn't helping that he was seeing double here but at least behind him Sam groaned and mumbled a "What happened?".
Dean was at his side in a heartbeat and with a hand to his bare chest he prevented him from getting up too quickly.
"You got a blow to the head." He said, peering down into Sam's eyes. The pupils were even and his gaze was fixed on Dean. "And got tied to a chair."
"I think I passed out when I leaned forward." Sam probed the back of his head with careful fingers and hissed at the contact.
"No shit, Sherlock." Dean answered but sighed in relief. So far Sam looked fine. More or less. Cas on the other hand ...
Dean looked over to his friend who had failed to come around by now.
"What did she do to Cas?" He asked, by now really worried about the angel. Sam sat up slowly but he seemed steady for the moment so Dean shuffled over to Cas. "I can't make any sense out of that shit." Over his shoulder he gestured at the altar.
"It was meant to kill me." Sam said, holding his head in both hands but his speech was clear and he remembered what had happened, that was good. "He got stabbed instead."
Dean peeled the shirt off the wound. A puncture wound. It hadn't bled that much, just a smear on the shirt, but there was still that blackish goo.
"We should clean this out." He decided. He wasn't sure if that would do anything but it was at least something he could do. "You okay for a sec?" He glanced at Sam who still sat on the floor with his head in his hands and a miserable expression on his face.
Sam didn't answer but gave him a short nod.
"I get the holy water. Back in a minute." He promised but knew he wouldn't make it in a minute. If he had the chance he would sit right there with Sam, holding his head and feeling miserable, but it looked like he was the last man standing so he better got his ass moving. Usually he would have sprinted up the stairs, now he was happy that he didn't need to set both feet on one step like a toddler. He did need the wall and the handrail to steady himself, though.
When he came back with the holy water and the first aid kit a few minutes later, nothing had changed in the basement. Amy was still dead and that was the only good thing about the situation. Sam had inched closer to Cas but still looked like he would keel over any second and Cas hadn't moved at all.
Dean sank to his knees on Cas' other side and checked his breathing first. It was still there, steady and even.
"Okay, let's see if this does any good." He poured a bit of the water over the wound. It washed away the blood and the goo and it even bubbled a bit but it didn't get into the wound, not deep enough to wash it all out anyway. "Dammit, Cas. You can't do anything the easy way, can't you?"
"What do we do now?" Sam asked and they both knew there were only two options. They could leave it like this, hoping that Cas would come around eventually, or they could flush the wound properly and hope that that would help him heal. "That's some potent stuff. Said it would kill me slowly over hours. Dunno what it does to an angel."
Dean was pretty sure that any other angel wouldn't even be effected by this but Cas was a different case. His condition was special and they had no idea what that meant here.
"I'll feel better when that stuff is out of his system." Dean reached for his knife. He waited a second to see if Sam would protest but he just nodded and shifted to place his hands on Cas' shoulders. Not that he would be able to hold him down if Cas really wanted to get away, not even under best conditions and Sam was far from best condition at the moment, but maybe it would help to ground Cas. Probably not.
"Sorry, Cas." Dean said without getting an answer before he placed the tip of the knife directly on the small wound. He had to widen the channel to flush it properly which meant he had to cut directly into Cas' chest.
Letting out a breath Dean pressed down. For a second he thought Cas would stay out cold long enough for him to finish this but then the angel came to life. He arched his back from the floor, impaling himself deeper on the knife, and his mouth opened to a toneless cry.
"It's okay, Cas. It's okay." Dean held the knife steady, he didn't want to stab too deep, and Cas sank back down with a grunt of pain. His eyes snapped open.
"Hey." Sam said, bringing his face into Cas' line of view. "It's us. It's okay."
Dean doubted that stabbing his friend counted as okay but he couldn't back off now. He took the knife out and reached for the holy water.
"Cas." He tried to get the angel's attention. "This is going to hurt."
He didn't give Cas time to respond and poured the water into the wound. With his other hand he spread it open even farther to get the water in as deep as possible. The water ran dirty over his chest, washing away the poison. It sizzled and bubbled so it was doing its work but that also meant that it hurt like hell.
Sure enough, after a shocked second Cas thrashed.
For a moment they were able to hold him down but then Cas swayed Sam away with one uncoordinated flail with his arm and then Dean went flying as well. He crashed into the altar which knocked the wind out of him. Stars burst in front of his eyes, his head exploded in pain and he had to fight to stay conscious.
"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered and considered just staying where he was, lying on the floor in the trashed remains of the altar. It sounded like a good idea.
Chapter 18
Masterpost