Archive of Our Own ^beta

Blood staining the floor of the Bunker was nothing new. Blood staining Sam’s clothes was nothing new. Blood dripping from Dean’s knife was nothing new. All of that, Castiel had seen before, frequently.

This was different. There wasn’t anyone or anything else around. Sam was on the ground, eyes closed, and Castiel couldn’t feel Sam’s soul. The bags he was carrying dropped to the ground, and Castiel made a point of stepping on the pie as he ran to kneel beside Sam. He couldn’t find a pulse. He looked up at Dean, fear feeding the anger. He got to his feet and slammed Dean into a wall. “What did you do?”

Surprisingly, despite a flare of rage in Dean’s eyes, he didn’t push back. He didn’t even try to fight Castiel, and there was no anger in his voice, only pain. “I know what this looks like, man, but I didn’t do what you think I did. I know I didn’t. I can’t have.”

“Oh, you can’t have?” Castiel mocked. “Why not? Because he’s your brother? Because you love him? Because your life is about taking care of Sam?”

Dean held out the Blade. It shook along with Dean’s hand. “Because if I had killed Sammy, I wouldn’t be fighting the drive to kill you. I’d be lost. I’d just do it.”

Castiel found he couldn’t argue with that. Dean would just do it. As much as he loved Castiel – and it wasn’t that he loved Castiel less – the bond between the brothers was just that much more profound for the double relationship. If he had killed Sam, he wouldn’t hesitate to put that blade into Castiel. “All right. I believe that you didn’t do it – so what did happen?”

“I don’t know how it got in, but there was a demon in here. Strong enough that when Sam saw me come back from working on Baby, he told me to go get the First Blade. I hesitated until I saw the yellow eyes, and then I ran. The demon had some kind of spear, I got back just in time to see him stab Sammy with it.” Dean shuddered, staring down at Sam. Castiel followed his gaze to the wound in his hip – by itself, unlikely fatal, but it was still bleeding. No sign of healing. “I raged, ran the blade through his heart, and I don’t remember anything else before you coming in.” He looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. “Thank you for snapping me out of it, man. Let’s see what we can do for Sam, huh?”

Castiel knelt beside Sam. Blood on his suit didn’t matter. He looked closer at the wound – it should be closed by now, or at least closing. It hadn’t hit a major vessel, it should not be bleeding this much. He put a hand over the wound, letting grace flow in – and then he understood. “Dean, this is a serious problem. I can’t heal him. He was stabbed with the Lance of Michael.”

“It was a freakin’ spear, dude. I know the difference.” Dean dropped beside Sam, putting pressure on the wound. “Why’s it matter what he was stabbed with?”

“Because the Lance of Michael kills. It was made by Michael to kill Lucifer if he ever got free from the Cage, but when Gabriel fled Heaven, he took it with him.” Castiel watched the blood seeping through Dean’s fingers. “Demons, it turns to dust immediately. Angels, it kills slowly and agonizingly. Sam… with luck, it was quick. Otherwise, he’s still alive and suffering and there is nothing we can do.”

“Bull. There’s gotta be something.” Dean got to his feet, looking around. “The hell did it go, anyway? It can’t have disappeared.”

“Perhaps it could have.” Castiel closed his eyes, letting his grace seek traces of Michael. He found it a few feet away and reached for it, opening his eyes as his hand closed around it. The lance shimmered into sight. “It can become invisible. I don’t know if we can do anything, but…”

“One thing we can do.” Dean pulled out his phone and called Crowley. “Need you up here. One of yours broke into the Bunker and now Sam’s dying or dead.”

Crowley arrived almost immediately. He raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of the lance. “Not one of mine, then. Unless we have even bigger problems. Where’d you get this?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Demon. How is it not one of yours?”

“Yellow eyes?”

“Yeah…”

“Not one of mine. The ones with yellow eyes are the original princes of Hell, and if one of them decides to challenge me, I’m going to lose. Luckily for me, they’re all supposed to be retired; unluckily, it would seem like Ramiel disagrees. What happened to him?” Dean held up the First Blade, and Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh. Surprised that worked. Prince outranks Knight. Ramiel’s dead?”

“Assuming that was Ramiel and not some other prince,” Dean said. “How do we save Sam?”

Crowley bent down to examine Sam. “Soul’s gone, but it’s still tethered. Sam’s Reaper either hasn’t showed up or is up against Winchester muleheadedness. Not sure if this will work or not, but it’s got to be worth a try.” Crowley grabbed one end of the spear and held the other out to Castiel. “Chop it in half, Dean. Destroy the thing.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Dean demanded. “Do you know how useful this thing could be?”

“Yes, I do, but breaking it is the only way I can think of to save your brother. I thought I knew you well enough to know that you’d put your brother’s life over anything else. Seem to remember you shouting that at him in a church a couple years back.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smirk as Dean, predictably, chopped the lance in half – as close to Crowley’s hand as he could get it. He then pointed the blade at Crowley’s face. “Drop it.”

Crowley did as he was told, holding his hands up. “Gracious, I don’t know what you think I’d want with half a lance that the other Princes might come looking for. It’s all yours, darling. Besides, you have more important things to worry about right now.” He pointed to where Sam was coughing and trying to sit up.

Castiel dropped his half of the lance and knelt beside Sam, reaching out to mend the structural damage to Sam’s hip now that he was no longer being blocked by Michael’s grace. Once that was done, he wrapped Sam in his arms and held on tight. “I’m so glad you held on. Thank you for coming back to us.”

Sam ducked his head. “Death showed up and told me how disappointed in me he was for standing him up last time. He then told me that he wasn’t even going to bother trying this time, because he was sure you guys would figure out how to get me back.”

“Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re here,” Dean said, squatting beside Sam and resting his head against Sam’s. “I love you. Any idea how that bastard got in here?”

“Probably your wards aren’t strong enough,” Crowley said. “Can’t keep a Prince of Hell out with your garden-variety wards. I’ll fix you up before I head home.”

“Why should we trust you? You want Dean dead, so he’ll be your knight again,” Castiel snapped. “And if Sam and I are dead, then we can’t hunt him down and cure him again.”

“Dean will die again eventually, I’ll get him back, I can be patient and wait this out. In the meantime, if Dagon and Asmodeus take Ramiel’s death as a challenge, you three are probably the most useful allies I can have against them.”

“Cute how you think we’re your allies,” Dean muttered. “One of these days, we really gotta get around to killing you.”

Crowley shrugged. “You are the one who stabbed Ramiel. If nothing else, you’re someone I can direct them at if they come after me.” Crowley headed off to check the wards, leaving Castiel and Dean to hold Sam.

“Can we, uh…” Sam coughed. “Can we get out of here? The blood…”

“Oh, fuck.” Dean picked up Sam. “I’m gonna get him to a shower, can you get this cleaned up, Cas?”

“Of course.” Castiel headed for the kitchen to get cleaning supplies. He needed to get the blood up as quickly as he could, before Sam could start feeling guilty for not helping. No one should be asked to clean up their own blood. Dean would keep Sam distracted with sex, and Castiel should be done in time to join them for the cuddling afterward. Exactly how he liked it.