When Satan Takes You Over
Sorry this took so long. I've had to break up the parts because it was getting a little long so it ends a little abruptly. But I wanted to post something . Hope you still enjoy.
Chapter 6
Dean stared in confusion at the spot where Castiel had stood a moment ago. He looked over at Bobby at the same time as the older man glanced at him.
“Did he just say, ‘Sam’”? Bobby asked hoarsely, wiping at his eyes as he wheeled around to the front of his desk.
Dean opened his mouth to answer when a gust of wind blasted through the house, causing him to cover his head in surprise. When he looked up, he could only gape for a moment at the sight in front of him.
Castiel stood in the living room looking disheveled, cradling a very naked, unconscious Sam in his arms.
Dean scrambled to his feet as Bobby finally regained his voice. “What in the holy hell……”
“He is alive,” Castiel interrupted , still holding his burden, and if Dean had had any sense of humor left, he might have found the picture of smaller man carrying his much bigger brother in his arms like a child, funny . But worry mixed with a healthy dose of relief had his attention.
Dean had rushed forward to see if what the angel had said was true, but he could already see Sam’s chest rising and falling as he breathed. “Put him on the couch,” he said roughly when Castiel continued to just stand there holding his burden.
“Bobby, we need a blanket,” he uttered a moment later when he reached for his brother’s pulse only to feel how ice cold his skin was. Sam’s pulse was there, if a little sluggish, but Dean was happy to feel it at all as he gazed worriedly at the pasty, grey parlor of his skin.
“What happened?” he demanded, nodding gratefully when Bobby appeared a moment later with two blankets. He laid them both over his brother, tucking one of them under Sam’s ice cold feet. Lifting one of Sam’s hands, he began to chafe it, hoping to get some circulation going.
“Cas…” Dean barked, looking over at the angel in irritation when his questioned went unanswered, only to find Castiel uncharacteristically seated on a chair, his head in his hands.
“Give him a minute, Dean,” Bobby said, staring between him and Sam on the couch, worriedly. “He’s looking a little green around the gills. How’s Sam doing?”
“I don’t know, Bobby,” Dean answered him testily, grabbing Sam’s other hand to warm it up. “He’s like a damn ice cube, but at least he’s breathing.” He looked over at the angel again, who still hadn’t moved from his bent over position. “Cas, you want to tell us what the hell happened sometime today? Is Sam okay?”
The angel looked up, his face unusually haggard, to stare at Dean. Then his eyes moved to where Sam lay unconscious on the couch. “Sam is……he should recover sufficiently. He…..”Castiel hesitated.
“He what?” Dean demanded. “What happened? It obviously didn’t work so….”
“Jophiel did as we asked. He took Sam and began to dismantle his cells to scatter them but….”
“But what?” Bobby asked, when Castiel stopped again. “Did Lucifer catch him?”
The angel shook his head. “No, Lucifer did not have time to react.” Castiel stood up from his chair.
“It was Michael.”
“Michael?”Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes Michael.”Castiel answered. “He realized what Jophiel was doing at the same time as Lucifer felt what was happening, but he beat him to it. Michael stopped Jophiel before he could start hiding Sam’s cells and he put him back together. Then he simply left him for me to find. I replaced his rib tattoos and brought him back here.”
“You mean Sam was actually dead before Michael…..”
“Yes Dean, your brother was technically dead before Michael restored him. It was his anger I felt when I left here. I think I am very lucky to have escaped his wrath…..Jophiel was not.”
Dean didn’t bother trying to act like he felt sorry for the angel who had killed his brother, but he refrained from scoffing. He looked down at Sam’s sleeping face and suppressed an involuntary shiver at what had almost happened. His brother was ,once again, killed by an angel and , once again, restored by Michael. It was insane and he was pissed at the lot of them. But he was especially pissed at Castiel. His anger at his brother’s actions would come later.
“You said Sam should be okay?”
“Yes, he was completely restored by Michael. I cannot predict how he will feel when he wakes up since I am not a doctor, but judging by how you’ve told me you feel when you are transported by me, I would say he will be tired and maybe a little….
“Nauseous and sick….yeah yeah, I got it,” Dean finished for him. He could only imagine how it would feel to have your cells dismantled and put back together by a pissed off angel. His brother would need a few days of recovery no doubt.
Dean stood up and looked over at Bobby. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get Sam some clothes and that old electric blanket out of the closet.” His gaze turned to Castiel and the baleful look he gave him should have set the angel on fire. “Don’t be here when I get back.”
“Dean,” Bobby said, wheeling in front of the younger man to stop his progress to the stairs. “We need him here. We still don’t know what happened to Adam and your brother might need…..”
“He’s done enough damage to Sam, Bobby!” Dean gestured angrily at the angel before stepping around the older man’s wheelchair toward the steps. “And if what he said was true and the angels have Adam, then he’s the one who needs to figure out where, before they hurt him.” He turned to send another pointed glare at Castiel.
“I will go and try to find Adam.”
At Castiel’s declaration, Dean turned back toward the stairs.
“But Dean…..”
The older brother stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Maybe before you cast stones, you should ask yourself why your brother was willing to go to such drastic measures.” The angel disappeared with barely a sound.
Dean could practically feel Bobby’s stare on his back as he continued up the stairs, Castiel’s words resonating in his head, but he tried not to think too hard as he rifled through Sam’s duffle for clothes, the thought occurring to him that if Sam’s plan had worked, this would be the only thing beside the letter he would have left of his brother. Just like last time.
Dean’s hand clenched around the fabric in his hand for a second as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. A second later, he took his armful of clothes to the hall closet, seeing the old blanket up on the top shelf. When he pulled it down, a faint smell of moth balls wafted from it, and he wondered if the thing had been used since Bobby’s wife had died.
When he got back down the stairs, Dean found Bobby next to the couch where Sam lay, his hand wrapped around one of Sam’s wrists, obviously keeping his pulse. Two glasses and a bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table.
“I think we could use a stiff drink,” Bobby said, glancing up as Dean approached.
“Understatement,” Dean huffed as he lay the things he’d brought down next to Sam on the couch. He reached to lay a hand against Sam’s forehead before pulling the blanket down to touch his chest and arms. Glad to feel that he seemed a bit warmer, Dean pulled the blanket the rest of the way off and began to dress his brother, his lips quirking slightly when Bobby tacitly moved away. A moment later, the older man returned to help when Dean was struggling to simultaneously hold Sam up and put his shirt on him. Eventually together, they managed to get the younger man dressed and covered with the warming blanket.
Dean finally sat down to have that drink, his eyes barely straying as he watched Sam’s chest rise and fall with his breathing. His skin was still almost translucent. Dean sighed in weary resignation at the sight of his brother once again laid out unconscious before him after a run in with an angel.
“He’ll be alright, Dean.” Bobby’s voice penetrated his morose thoughts and Dean glanced at him before his gaze was inexorably drawn back to his brother.
“Yeah, if I don’t kill him when he wakes up.” Dean rose abruptly from the chair he was in to run a hand over his mouth. “I mean, what the hell was he thinking, Bobby? How could he think this was a good idea?”
“Are you listening to yourself, boy?”Bobby asked in irritated exasperation at Dean’s outburst. “What do you think he was thinking? He was thinking that his fool brother was about to commit hari-kiri and he wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing while it happened He’s been down that road before.” Bobby leaned over and slammed his empty drink glass down on the table a little too hard. “And I don’t know what your letter said, but mine basically told me that Sam feels like he ain’t never gonna make up for what he feels like he did to you and me and the world and that he doesn’t deserve to.” The old man shook his head. “And I’m pretty sure we haven’t done anything to help change that idea.”
“How is what he did different from me becoming Michael’s meatsuit, huh?” Dean argued heatedly. “He had me on lockdown in the damn panic room for running off on my own, but it’s okay for him to run off and try and kill himself?”
“No it ain’t okay,” Bobby argued right back. “But I get why he did it, and I’m pretty sure that if you stop being a damn idiot for half a minute and start really thinking about what Sam said in his letter, you’ll get it too. Now quit your bitchin’ and see to your brother. I’m going to bed.” The older man expertly turned his chair around and wheeled out of the room, leaving Dean to stare after him.
TBC......
Chapter 6
Dean stared in confusion at the spot where Castiel had stood a moment ago. He looked over at Bobby at the same time as the older man glanced at him.
“Did he just say, ‘Sam’”? Bobby asked hoarsely, wiping at his eyes as he wheeled around to the front of his desk.
Dean opened his mouth to answer when a gust of wind blasted through the house, causing him to cover his head in surprise. When he looked up, he could only gape for a moment at the sight in front of him.
Castiel stood in the living room looking disheveled, cradling a very naked, unconscious Sam in his arms.
Dean scrambled to his feet as Bobby finally regained his voice. “What in the holy hell……”
“He is alive,” Castiel interrupted , still holding his burden, and if Dean had had any sense of humor left, he might have found the picture of smaller man carrying his much bigger brother in his arms like a child, funny . But worry mixed with a healthy dose of relief had his attention.
Dean had rushed forward to see if what the angel had said was true, but he could already see Sam’s chest rising and falling as he breathed. “Put him on the couch,” he said roughly when Castiel continued to just stand there holding his burden.
“Bobby, we need a blanket,” he uttered a moment later when he reached for his brother’s pulse only to feel how ice cold his skin was. Sam’s pulse was there, if a little sluggish, but Dean was happy to feel it at all as he gazed worriedly at the pasty, grey parlor of his skin.
“What happened?” he demanded, nodding gratefully when Bobby appeared a moment later with two blankets. He laid them both over his brother, tucking one of them under Sam’s ice cold feet. Lifting one of Sam’s hands, he began to chafe it, hoping to get some circulation going.
“Cas…” Dean barked, looking over at the angel in irritation when his questioned went unanswered, only to find Castiel uncharacteristically seated on a chair, his head in his hands.
“Give him a minute, Dean,” Bobby said, staring between him and Sam on the couch, worriedly. “He’s looking a little green around the gills. How’s Sam doing?”
“I don’t know, Bobby,” Dean answered him testily, grabbing Sam’s other hand to warm it up. “He’s like a damn ice cube, but at least he’s breathing.” He looked over at the angel again, who still hadn’t moved from his bent over position. “Cas, you want to tell us what the hell happened sometime today? Is Sam okay?”
The angel looked up, his face unusually haggard, to stare at Dean. Then his eyes moved to where Sam lay unconscious on the couch. “Sam is……he should recover sufficiently. He…..”Castiel hesitated.
“He what?” Dean demanded. “What happened? It obviously didn’t work so….”
“Jophiel did as we asked. He took Sam and began to dismantle his cells to scatter them but….”
“But what?” Bobby asked, when Castiel stopped again. “Did Lucifer catch him?”
The angel shook his head. “No, Lucifer did not have time to react.” Castiel stood up from his chair.
“It was Michael.”
“Michael?”Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes Michael.”Castiel answered. “He realized what Jophiel was doing at the same time as Lucifer felt what was happening, but he beat him to it. Michael stopped Jophiel before he could start hiding Sam’s cells and he put him back together. Then he simply left him for me to find. I replaced his rib tattoos and brought him back here.”
“You mean Sam was actually dead before Michael…..”
“Yes Dean, your brother was technically dead before Michael restored him. It was his anger I felt when I left here. I think I am very lucky to have escaped his wrath…..Jophiel was not.”
Dean didn’t bother trying to act like he felt sorry for the angel who had killed his brother, but he refrained from scoffing. He looked down at Sam’s sleeping face and suppressed an involuntary shiver at what had almost happened. His brother was ,once again, killed by an angel and , once again, restored by Michael. It was insane and he was pissed at the lot of them. But he was especially pissed at Castiel. His anger at his brother’s actions would come later.
“You said Sam should be okay?”
“Yes, he was completely restored by Michael. I cannot predict how he will feel when he wakes up since I am not a doctor, but judging by how you’ve told me you feel when you are transported by me, I would say he will be tired and maybe a little….
“Nauseous and sick….yeah yeah, I got it,” Dean finished for him. He could only imagine how it would feel to have your cells dismantled and put back together by a pissed off angel. His brother would need a few days of recovery no doubt.
Dean stood up and looked over at Bobby. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get Sam some clothes and that old electric blanket out of the closet.” His gaze turned to Castiel and the baleful look he gave him should have set the angel on fire. “Don’t be here when I get back.”
“Dean,” Bobby said, wheeling in front of the younger man to stop his progress to the stairs. “We need him here. We still don’t know what happened to Adam and your brother might need…..”
“He’s done enough damage to Sam, Bobby!” Dean gestured angrily at the angel before stepping around the older man’s wheelchair toward the steps. “And if what he said was true and the angels have Adam, then he’s the one who needs to figure out where, before they hurt him.” He turned to send another pointed glare at Castiel.
“I will go and try to find Adam.”
At Castiel’s declaration, Dean turned back toward the stairs.
“But Dean…..”
The older brother stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Maybe before you cast stones, you should ask yourself why your brother was willing to go to such drastic measures.” The angel disappeared with barely a sound.
Dean could practically feel Bobby’s stare on his back as he continued up the stairs, Castiel’s words resonating in his head, but he tried not to think too hard as he rifled through Sam’s duffle for clothes, the thought occurring to him that if Sam’s plan had worked, this would be the only thing beside the letter he would have left of his brother. Just like last time.
Dean’s hand clenched around the fabric in his hand for a second as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. A second later, he took his armful of clothes to the hall closet, seeing the old blanket up on the top shelf. When he pulled it down, a faint smell of moth balls wafted from it, and he wondered if the thing had been used since Bobby’s wife had died.
When he got back down the stairs, Dean found Bobby next to the couch where Sam lay, his hand wrapped around one of Sam’s wrists, obviously keeping his pulse. Two glasses and a bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table.
“I think we could use a stiff drink,” Bobby said, glancing up as Dean approached.
“Understatement,” Dean huffed as he lay the things he’d brought down next to Sam on the couch. He reached to lay a hand against Sam’s forehead before pulling the blanket down to touch his chest and arms. Glad to feel that he seemed a bit warmer, Dean pulled the blanket the rest of the way off and began to dress his brother, his lips quirking slightly when Bobby tacitly moved away. A moment later, the older man returned to help when Dean was struggling to simultaneously hold Sam up and put his shirt on him. Eventually together, they managed to get the younger man dressed and covered with the warming blanket.
Dean finally sat down to have that drink, his eyes barely straying as he watched Sam’s chest rise and fall with his breathing. His skin was still almost translucent. Dean sighed in weary resignation at the sight of his brother once again laid out unconscious before him after a run in with an angel.
“He’ll be alright, Dean.” Bobby’s voice penetrated his morose thoughts and Dean glanced at him before his gaze was inexorably drawn back to his brother.
“Yeah, if I don’t kill him when he wakes up.” Dean rose abruptly from the chair he was in to run a hand over his mouth. “I mean, what the hell was he thinking, Bobby? How could he think this was a good idea?”
“Are you listening to yourself, boy?”Bobby asked in irritated exasperation at Dean’s outburst. “What do you think he was thinking? He was thinking that his fool brother was about to commit hari-kiri and he wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing while it happened He’s been down that road before.” Bobby leaned over and slammed his empty drink glass down on the table a little too hard. “And I don’t know what your letter said, but mine basically told me that Sam feels like he ain’t never gonna make up for what he feels like he did to you and me and the world and that he doesn’t deserve to.” The old man shook his head. “And I’m pretty sure we haven’t done anything to help change that idea.”
“How is what he did different from me becoming Michael’s meatsuit, huh?” Dean argued heatedly. “He had me on lockdown in the damn panic room for running off on my own, but it’s okay for him to run off and try and kill himself?”
“No it ain’t okay,” Bobby argued right back. “But I get why he did it, and I’m pretty sure that if you stop being a damn idiot for half a minute and start really thinking about what Sam said in his letter, you’ll get it too. Now quit your bitchin’ and see to your brother. I’m going to bed.” The older man expertly turned his chair around and wheeled out of the room, leaving Dean to stare after him.
TBC......