Lost Time Chapter 26/27

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 26/27
Wordcount: 6,565
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Dean/Sam, Gabriel/OFC
Warning(s): Violence, Sex, Expletives, Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
Notes: Still very AU. If you like this, thank sammichgirl, who told me it was time to make it public. :) If you don't it's totally not her fault.
Summary: Sam Burton has an average life, a foul-mouthed sister, and a dream of putting his past behind him. All of that changes when Dean Winchester comes to stay.

First part
Previous part

A/N: So, I'm seriously considering editing the next chapter and putting it up early, because this is a pretty awful cliffhanger now that I look at it. Any opinions?

Dean's honestly not sure who's angrier with this turn of events, him or the pouting hacker in the seat next to him. Somehow Sam had decided he would take Ophelia back, and now Dean and Gabriel are sitting in awkward silence as they ride across the country. Dean's gotten used to having Sam beside him. Used to the reminder that his brother is alive and well, the pranks they pull, the way Sam bitches about his music and his habits. He's not sure why he's being punished.

"Am I sulking as much as you are?" Gabe sounds both concerned and surprised.

"Yes." Dean glances his way and sees how Gabriel is peering out the passenger window at the rolling fields and hills. They're just outside of Columbus, and making good time. Sam and Ophelia are somewhere ahead of them, and Dean still needs to talk to her about what happened to Sam. What they're going to do about it.

"This is not me. I am not like this."

He considers pulling off to hit a diner, or at the least fast food, but Sam is somewhere ahead of them, and Ophelia has no idea what he's been up to. No way to properly monitor him. Could she read a text message right now?

"Love makes you crazy Gabe." There's a sharp draw of breath next to him and Dean turns to see that the hacker's face is twisted in shock. "What?"

"Love? You think I love her?"

"I know you love her. You drop everything to come running and babysit her. You drove her across country. You don't want her in danger. Yeah, idiot, you love her." He feels like Bobby all of a sudden, and the urge to say 'idjit' instead of idiot is pretty intense. "Why? What did you think you it was?"

He slumps in the seat and rubs at his face. "Professional fascination. Drive faster Dean-o."

Dean does.

----

"I mean really who do you they think they are? Telling us what we are and aren't going to do like we're irresponsible children? Like they have some authority? And-"

"Sam-"

"After everything that's happened you'd think they would trust us to be a little responsible. To have their best intentions in mind. Sure, maybe it's not the safest course but-"

"Sam-"

"It's the smartest. Why are we expected to just sit back? They can be in danger, but we have to be-"

"Sam!"

He took a deep breath and looked her way. Ope's knees were pulled against her chest, sunglasses eating most of her face and cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth as she stared dead ahead. "What is it Ope?"

"Are you talking about Gabe and Dean, or just Dean?" She tilted her head once and tapped her cigarette out the cracked window.

"I-well-mostly Dean. I guess."

She nodded sagely and then opened her mouth, but her phone ringing interrupted her. She fumbled with it once and then pulled it out and opened it. "Ope." Her mouth turned downwards, and then all the color fled from her face. "What? When?" Sam pulled the car over onto the shoulder and watched the way her hands shook, how she threw the cigarette out without a second thought and rubbed at her mouth. "How bad?" There was a long silence and then she nodded once and swallowed hard. "Ok. Ok Tommy I'll call the insurance people. We're paid up, so that's one fucking thing." She listened to more for a long time and then hung up and dropped the phone into Sam's lap.

"What happened? Insurance for what?"

"Call Dean. Tell him we need to meet somewhere we can all sit down. I'll tell you then."

"Ope we-"

"Please Sam. Fucking do it. Make it a bar."

And that, more than anything else, was what had Sam's blood running cold as he dialed Dean's number.

----

The whole thing Ope. It's gone. Just gone.

She took the second and third shot without seeing them, and the hand that landed on her shoulder only reminded her that she still hadn't spoken. Hadn't given them anything, and that wasn't good. She had to be scaring the shit out of Sam. The fourth shot was almost comforting.

"They burned down my shop." Fifth shot tasted like ambrosia, and her head was swimming even as the world tilted harshly around her. "Inspector is comfortable with calling it arson."

There was silence around the small table, and then Dean slid a sixth shot into her hand and she swallowed it without crying. Without screaming and raging, even though flipping the table and bashing the nearest bystander into his component parts seemed like the best idea she'd ever fucking had.

"Opey-" Gabe shut up when she waved a hand, and then she was gripping her fists into tight balls and pressing them against her eyes in a desperate attempt to not cry in front of them.

"We should get you to an airport Gabriel. You should get back to your real life. In the meantime I'll take the Jeep and Ope can stay with Bobby. He can keep her safe." Dean sounded incredibly sure and confident. She reached out, but Sam's big hand slid the next shot away and then swallowed both of her smaller ones.

"You're right. She's not going anywhere alone. Not after this." The Dean shaped blob was nodding vigorously, and then Sam was turning her and wrapping her up in his arms. "We're gonna get through this. I'm so sorry Ope. Sorry."

Of course. Of fucking course Sam thought this was his fault. Because that was how Sam thought. She needed more booze. "Not your fault Sam. Can I-"

"I've got a place." She jerked once in Sam's embrace and then turned her head enough to spot the Gabriel shape leaning towards her. "You could-uh you could stay there sweets. Long as you needed."

She couldn't make out all of Sam's face, but she could tell from his posture he was tense. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I'd rather she be with someone we-"

"Hey! Do I get a fucking vote in my own future or is this going to be a decision I'm cut out of?" They all turned towards her then, and she took a deep breath. "I'm going home. I'm going to stay in my home. It's warded and fucking fine."

There was a miniature explosion, but Sam's voice ended up loudest. "Absolutely not. They're closing in on the area Ope. They could know where the house is, they found the shop, and they'll go after you I'm sure. You have to-please Ope."

Sam begging. Fuck. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her face for a moment trying to figure out what to do. "I've got more sigils of protection on that place than I know what to do with. No one is getting in Sam. I'll be fine."

She knew what they wanted, knew what they were asking for, but honestly she just couldn't do it. It was bad enough to be so goddamn dependent with the eyesight thing, but this? She had savings, but they wouldn't last long. Even when she was blind she at least had a cut from the shop coming in. Now? Now she had to wait for the insurance pay-off and then hope all her artists could hang on until she had a new place and new equipment. She couldn't do it. Couldn't smile her way through it. Instead she just put her head down and listened to the three men argue around her about her future.

----

She ended up in Dean's Impala, ground being eaten by his tires and their forward progress to Maine back on track.

"I wish you'd change your mind."

Ope closed her eyes and considered how much easier it was to just be blind. "He doesn't need me anymore."

She didn't miss the way Dean jerked, felt it in the seat and wondered at it even as his voice came out rough and panicked. "What?"

"He doesn't need me anymore. Not the way he used to. He's got you now, and that's what I wanted. I won't be a fucking burden Dean. Not anymore. I have to be my own fucking person. You get that right?"

There was silence, and then Dean sighed. "Yeah sweetheart, I get that. But that thing you said? It ain't true. He's always gonna need you."

"Dean he's not-"

"You haven't asked me about the Seal. About what happened."

There's something there, something in Dean's voice that makes her so tight so quick it'll probably result in pulling something. She fumbles for her cigarettes and eventually finds them. "How did the Seal go Dean?"

"It was a demon. Two witches brought it back, and we didn't stop it so that one is broken. Which would seem like the worst news, 'cept when I came around the corner of the mausoleum I found Sam standing over its highjacked body with black eyes."

There's no air in the goddamn car anymore, and Ophelia fumbles with her grip on the cigarette as she tries to remember how to draw in oxygen and function like a fully mobile human being. Sam with the world's blood on his hands and black eyes. "Oh."

"Oh? That all you got? Oh?" Now he sounds angry, and she squints one eye open and he's clear enough she can confirm that theory.

"Shit?"

His laugh has no mirth at all. "Yeah. Shit. What are we supposed to do?"

For a moment she has no words. This is the worst of all possible scenarios, and there's no back-up plan for this. When she started her machinations so long ago she never saw anything like this happening. It was just supposed to be securing someone who would care enough for Sam to hang around. To be there if he needed support or defense. No hunting, no brother/lover, and no fucking apocalypse. Now Sam's so mired in shit it's amazing he's keeping his head up. Which is why she was so proud of him, because he was getting so much stronger, but now…

But now. "We don't let him go further. We watch him, we make sure he doesn't get lost or backslide, and we remind him why it's so important he doesn't go down that road again. If he's drinking the blood we cut that shit off, and if he's not and it's just the lingering effects then we smack him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper until he learns his goddamn lesson." Angry. She's fucking angry now. Her shop, her livelihood, the three of them planning her life, and Sam backsliding. And Ophelia angry? It means she starts planning.

----

Sam's not sure what he was expecting when they got out of the car just outside of the house. He knows eventually there's going to be an argument. One between him and Ophelia because she's going to be packing and then leaving no matter what she thinks, and one between him and Dean over how he handled Samhain. Sam will damned though if he's going to apologize for that. He saved the town, maybe more, and that's what matters. If his powers can finally be used for good then that's what they should be used for. What he doesn't expect is Ophelia sliding out of the Impala and crossing the grass without speaking to anyone. Gabe shoots him an odd look and then follows her, and Sam falls in line.

He hears the crash seconds before he gets to the door, and then he's slamming through it behind the hacker and into the kitchen. Ophelia has thrown a chair through the back picture window. For a second the room is completely silent as she stands there, chest heaving and hands gripping another chair.

"Opey maybe you should put down-"

She cuts Gabriel off. "Sam get a chair." He looks at her blankly, completely unsure, but her tone is deadly hard. He feels Dean come in behind him, and he hesitates but then she's shouting. "Pick up a fucking chair Sam!"

Hesitantly, slowly, he picks up the next chair. She whips the one she has through the glass front of the china cabinet and the pieces spray around her. "Ophelia!" It's shock that makes him use her full name, but she doesn't really seem to hear it.

"Throw it Sam. Through the window. Fucking smash this shit up. We're done here." She stalks through the glass and out of the kitchen and he drops the chair and follows helplessly into the living room where she's hefting up a rock Jeff brought back from some trip and eyeing one of the big windows.

"Ope? Ope what the hell is going on?"

She doesn't turn when she speaks, but there's a coldness he's never experienced before. "Dean informed me about how you took care of that demon. Because that shit worked out so well for you before. I can read your fucking mind man, and I know what you're thinking. Worth the price because it's for the good right? But that's what you felt when Brady had you doing it, and when your head was clear you didn't think it anymore. You fucking hated what it did to you, what it left in you, and how it changed you. You aren't thinking straight little brother, but that's what I'm here for." Her arm cocks back and the rock flies, smashing another window and throwing glass everywhere. When she turns there are streaks of red across her face where shards have grazed her skin. "You want to destroy everything we built? I'll help you. I'll always help you Sammy, so start smashing with me, because we got a lot of shit to tear down."

"Ophelia. No. Please no." There's shame now, Gabriel staring at him in confusion and Dean in pity, but it's her that he can't stand. Face hopeless and lost, body wound up in some sort of fever pitch. "It's not like that. I just have to-I just needed it then."

"And you'll need it again and again until you're back on your fucking knees. You want to go down Sammy? I'm going with you. It's the only direction we know anyway."

Dean's there then, strong arms around him and holding him up when Sam's knees give out on him. The scent of copper and the sound of screams everywhere. "Sammy. Sammy I got you. I got you baby boy."

It's over. He can't do this. Can't destroy everything he worked so hard to have. She's right, because if he goes down that road again this is all that stands before him. The destruction of everything that really matters.

Except Meg's words ring in the back of his head, and Sam wonders. Wonders what will happen when the day comes that his only choices are preserving what he's built, or saving the world. The exact dichotomy she accused Dean of being unable to resist.

His head is pillowed against Dean's shoulder, and he's breathing in that familiar smell as Dean's hand rubs circles on his back. As Dean holds him together again, and one day Sam is going to have to be the one not falling apart. Just once he'd like that. This isn't the time though, and without a word Dean leads him back to his room. He lets himself be cradled, lets himself be held, and he falls asleep exhausted after the hours of driving and tension. Just exhausted.

------

Dean finds her on the porch where he expected her, joint in her fingers and pupils blown wide and open. She looks at him once before taking a deep drag and chasing one errant puff of smoke.

"How's it going Riggs?"

She laughs and then chokes on the lungful of smoke. "I'm on the ragged edge."

Whether he likes Castiel's revelation or not tonight has brought home to him that the angel was right. She is designed to keep Sam human, to hold him in a place where Dean can love him. Because those eyes…that short glimpse of Sam as something that Dean would be forced to hunt was a startling revelation that puts all the other things he's learned into stark context. Dean never thought of it before really. Never took into consideration how close Sam was to being something that he would be able to turn against. He's grateful for it, and hates it all at the same time. Hates himself for being grateful.

"He's always gonna need you Ope. You're gonna need to stick around. You know that right? If you were planning on coming back here and making your last stand 'cause you thought you were obsolete then tonight should have disproved that. Kid can't survive without you."

She taps the joint gently before taking another long, deep drag. When she finally speaks it's rough, and smoke curls around her lips. "I'll go to Bobby's. I'll behave."

Dean nods once and then taps her knee lightly. "You play a good bad cop."

"Those windows are going to be fucking expensive to replace." She laughs once, hysteria edging it. "I don't really have an income anymore. Fuck Dean. My shop. My goddamn shop. All my clientele are gonna need a new place, my artists are going to be looking for jobs, and I just-fuck!" She kicks the cement porch once and then covers her face. "Assholes."

"At least they didn't get the house. At least nobody was hurt. They did us a favor warning us to move before they closed in."

Her hand drops and her eyes are narrowed as she takes one more drag and then outs the joint against the sole of her boot. "When my eyesight is all better, when I'm a hundred percent, I'm gonna make sure to thank one or two of them personally."

Dean can't fault her for that, and he nods once before linking his fingers behind his head and looking out over the host of colors the trees have become. "I feel yah. In the meantime though, let's focus on keeping you safe and getting you better. We'll take a day, rest, and then we pack up and head out. Anything you really can't live without for a month or two?"

"There's a statue on my altar, the scrapbooks, and I'd really like to bring dad's bike. If we can rent a trailer and hook it up to the Jeep we can take it. In the meantime let's just get shit moving. The longer we stay the harder it'll be to leave." Gabriel appears out of nowhere and flops onto the cement by her feet, shoulders braced against her knees. "There's plywood in the garage that can cover the windows. I'll clean up the glass."

"Already done sweets." Her eyebrow raises and Dean's surprised as well. Gabriel shrugs and grins. "I moonlighted as a janitor once."

They break apart and Dean ends up back in bed with Sam. He wraps himself around his little brother's body and hopes for the best, even as he expects the worst.

They've lost all but eight Seals, and the pressure is on. This isn't the time for them to break apart, to lose their strength and unity, and it certainly isn't the time for Sam to think he needs to sacrifice his humanity for…humanity. Dean needs his brother.

-----

The caravan to Bobby's rolls out a day later. They go a bit off course because Ope insists Gabriel get back to his life, states Bobby won't be pleased with extra guests, and the hacker lets them drop him off in Chicago. She jumps cars, riding sometimes with Sam and sometimes with Dean. They stop at diners, spend one night in a crummy motel because Sam still isn't used to driving for a full day without rest, and when they finally reach Sioux Falls and the junkyard Bobby is waiting for them with wide open arms. He snatches her up and swings her around before giving Sam and Dean a controlled one arm hug. Sam's glad Bobby doesn't know, that there's no disappointment in the older man's gaze, and they have dinner that night at Bobby's table.

The conversation gets heavy fairly quickly, because Bobby won't be denied knowledge anymore, and it takes Dean and Ophelia to keep him calm when he finds out just how much they've been hiding from him. Then the tomes come out. Sam's never been to Bobby's house before, but the chaotic version of sorting that the older man subscribes to is almost amusing compared to Ope's OCD system. She squints her way through his selection, bitching happily about how hard it is to find things, and accepting his taunting when he grabs them out easily and hands them over.

Sam hasn't seen her in her reading glasses in a long time, but he soaks in the sight of Ophelia and Bobby poking at each other good-naturedly as they dig out forgotten bits of lore about the end times and demons. At one point she threatens to throw a book at him, he threatens her health, and Dean threatens them both if they don't shut the hell up. Sam tries to help, he really does, but the bleak reality of knowing all of this isn't going to help in the end is impossible to ignore.

It's almost a relief when the sound of fluttering wings arrives, and then Bobby is shouting in surprise as Castiel stands in the middle of their printed chaos with an almost bemused look on his face and his posture just as stiff as ever. The relief dies when Castiel puts one finger to hips lips and crosses around the room, knife appearing silently from his sleeve before he cuts his hand and starts painting bloody sigils all over Bobby's windows. The older man grunts once in surprise or disgust and then settles down when the angel finishes and turns back to them.

"Those will keep Heaven from seeing or hearing anything inside this house. I am beginning to feel concern that my superiors are not interested in stopping the Apocalypse."

For a minute Sam thinks they'll all just sit there staring at him in wonder, but Dean breaks the silence rather easily. "No shit Sherlock. What was your first guess?"

Head tilted, blue eyes questioning. "They are still refusing to give a list of the potential Seals, and I have heard conversations that suggest there is no plan in place for stopping the final Seal from being broken. But Dean my name is not Sherlock. It is Castiel. Are you feeling well?"

Bobby barks out laughter before realizing the angel is serious. "So you're the angel on our side?"

Blue eyes take Bobby in, weigh him, and then the angel nods slowly and seriously. The response is heavy with meaning. "Yes. I am the angel on your side."

Ope's whoop is heart-warming.

----

Six hours of strategy and planning leave Sam wrung totally dry and useless. He ends up on a couch in Bobby's living room, and without Dean's weight beside him it's still hard to sleep no matter how exhausted he is. Castiel wants them to check something out tomorrow, and Bobby is planning on coming along. Ophelia's insistence that she stay behind and get as much research done as she can handle is one Sam is willing to accept. Anything to keep her safe and hidden. Anything to keep her out of the goddamn fight.

When Dean's hand lands on his shoulder he comes out of his daze to see that the sun has risen and there's no one else in the living room with them. Which gives him time to steal a kiss that turns into two, and then Bobby is clearing his throat and there's an audience in the doorway staring at them. Ope makes a noise, something like an awww, and Dean gives her the finger before dropping a chaste kiss on Sam's temple and pulling him up. They climb into the Impala and Castiel gives them directions, eyes focused and sharp as they cross territory. Bobby follows behind in a rustbucket Dean eyed disdainfully before shaking his head and refusing to enter it.

They land about seven hours out, and the factory that sits in the middle of a broad parking lot is imposing in its size, but not unusual. Workers move in and out of the building, heavy machinery rolls along asphalt, and the whole thing seems industrious and normal. Which is why Castiel's news seems so out of place.

"This is Hell's next move. It is a virus, a disease they call Croatoan. It is supposed to turn humans into facsimiles of possessed bodies. They will know nothing but aggression and hate. If the Apocalypse happens the next thing they will do is spread it from this distribution center."

There's silence, and then Bobby clears his throat and fiddles with his hat. "How much of this do they got in there?"

"Enough to infect the entire planet. It does not take much."

Dean's hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, face set in a tight scowl, and Sam reaches over without thinking and grips one of Dean's hands tightly. They sit, contemplating, until Bobby's gruff voice hangs heavy in the air. "Then we ain't got much choice but to crash the party now do we?"

Castiel lifts one brow. "I do not understand."

"We're gonna go in. We need to watch it, plan, and then we'll take it out. Systematically. Bobby how much do you know about building bombs?"

"More than enough."

-----

Dean watches Bobby stockpile pipe bombs while he cleans his gun. Castiel looks like he's not sure if he should be amused or concerned, and his expression ends up in some mid-way point that expresses constipation instead. Still he doesn't speak through the process, and Sam finds a pretty reasonable set of blueprints so they know the layout of their target. Dean points out exits and entrances, maps out a plan, and leaves Bobby to go through the loading docks with Castiel while he and Sam will be taking the offices. Castiel insists that it's fair to assume anyone inside is an enemy, but Dean doesn't want to take the chance. It would be just like Hell to employ normal human beings in something this insidious. So he makes sure that while they're all armed, no one is going to shoot to kill without knowing. A part of him wants to remind Sam that powers are off the table, but this close to Ophelia's blow-up it's too raw to be taken as anything other than an admonishment. They spend the night in separate rooms, Castiel taking off for angel business.

He wants so badly to broach the gap between them. To take Sam into his arms and taste him, explore him, because this is a big thing. A big thing, and they may not make it through. They're woefully under-equipped for a factory full of fucking demons, and if one of them gets infected that's it. End of story. So yeah, a part of Dean wants to make sure that if this is their last night together they make the most of it. It's the logical thing to do, and any other time Dean would be diving headfirst into foreplay in an attempt to blow off steam and clear the air.

Which is why it's so out of character that what he actually does is pull Sam into his arms and begin what can only be called spooning even if Dean would hit anyone who actually named it that. His lips pressed into the curls at the base of Sam's neck, and his nose buried in the soft chestnut locks breathing in all of Sam's scent. It's comforting, soothing, and it reminds him of holding Sam as a baby. Of loving him unconditionally and without fear. That's what Dean needs now. He needs to wipe out the image of Sam with black eyes, and the desperate roadside blowjob didn't help him in that area at all. He needs Sam, and this is how he can have him. All of him. Sure, sex can make Dean vulnerable, but this? This is as exposed and vulnerable as it gets.

Somehow, someway, Sam seems to know it. Seems to understand that Dean doesn't want this to turn into an encounter, needs them to simply be still and close. He feels the broad chest expand, the steady beat of Sam's heart, and the rumble in his chest when he talks. "Hey Dean? Is this what it's always like?"

What he does next is not necessarily nuzzling, but it's kind of close. "No. Sometimes it's a rush. Knowing that what you're about to do could be something big, and you're a part of it. Saving lives and being a hero. Sometimes it's terrifying, knowing that any second now your life is probably gonna end and you can't do much about it. Sometimes it's peaceful, because you can get tired of this real quick."

There's a huff, Sam shifting slightly in his arms, and then his brother takes another deep breath. "No matter what happens I want you to know, you've made me strong. Made me someone I can like again, and I can't thank you enough for that Dean. I love you."

He takes his own deep breath then, and when he lets it out his lips press more firmly against curls and skin. "Yeah Sammy. You too."

The next morning it's like it never happened. They climb into their separate cars and approach the factory silently. Dean nods to Bobby and Castiel as the two head off in one direction, and then he and Sam lope across the parking lot with a bag full of holy water and pipe bombs a piece. The crouch down and line the windows from outside first before heading for the doors. Sam waits 'til the entrance to pop the salt bag, and then leaves trails across doorways as they head down mostly empty hallways. They block rooms off one by one in an attempt to minimize potential casualties. The process takes longer than Dean wants it too, but each step is a natural progression. They lay pipe bombs in places Sam has deemed structurally important. Once all the offices and extra rooms have been warded by salt they lean against a wall and wait. Bobby's message comes in not much longer after they've finished. Ready.

Sam flips the fire alarm on the wall, and Dean watches doors fling open. At first it's people filing out with wide eyes and loud chatter. Then one tall man steps up to an office doorway and jerks to a stop, eyes flashing black and face twisting in hatred. Which is when the screaming starts.

People are already moving, afraid and confused, but the shouting that takes place inside the offices, the demons locked into those rooms by salt barriers, creates a panic Dean could not have anticipated in a million years. For some reason their rage is taken as terror, and the human workers begin to stampede toward the doors. What was no doubt a well-rehearsed emergency exit procedure is abandoned, and Dean has to fight to hold out against the crowd until he's sure that none of the lines he can see have been broken. When the crowd stops rushing from the hallway Sam is watching he waits for his brother, and Sam comes skidding around the corner at high speed with a nod. They join up and rush past rooms filled with screaming demons. Dean resists the urge to slow down long enough to taunt them.

Instead he runs to the meet up point and finds Bobby and Castiel. The older man is huffing, a bright patch of blood on his shirt but no wounds that Dean can see. They make it about forty yards away before the explosions begin, and that wasn't quite to plan. Dean leaps, slamming bodily into Sam and pushing him down before covering as much of the taller man as he can. He feels bits rain down, stones and wood, and one hits him hard in the back and drives the air out of him.

When the booms have ended, when Dean is pretty sure there won't be more, he rolls off of Sam and takes several long slow breaths. Castiel is there in seconds, and it's so good to have a medic on hand Dean submits to being poked and prodded by the angel for probably longer than is necessary. Certainly longer than he thinks is necessary.

But it's over, and that's amazing. Which leaves Dean to turn to Bobby and throw his hands out in a what the hell gesture. Bobby looks actually mollified, and Dean tries not to laugh at that. Not to give in to the adrenaline rushing through his system right now.

"I didn't say the damn things were perfect, just that they'd get the job done." Bobby has to shout, but it's all good.The ringing in his ears kind of sounds like victory. They spend the night drinking, Castiel sniffing surreptitiously at his beer before taking a long gulp. The angel doesn't indulge for long though. That night, Dean takes Sam slow and sweet on the bed furthest from the door. In deference to Bobby being next door Sam bites his arm to keep the noise down, and Dean hates that, but he can't complain much. He's buried in his brother, completely entwined, and they're both alive without a scratch on them. It's a goddamn miracle.

Bobby splits the next morning, gruffly announcing someone named Rufus has an emergency. Dean simply nods and turns the Impala back towards Bobby's house. Sam informs him that Ope spent last night sending him text messages complaining about her lack of transportation and the grocery situation. He's so happy, so high, Dean doesn't even bitch about having to go shopping.

----

Sam pushes his way through the door juggling the bags from the store and Dean takes a moment to really consider how far they've come. How impressive it is that Sam is here, alive, blowing up buildings and then grocery shopping like everything is normal. His brother is strong, stronger than Dean ever imagined, and he can't find a way to tell him that without sounding like a love-struck teenage girl. Instead he watches Sam drop the bags on the table and head into the living room.

"Ope! Get your lazy ass up and help put away!" Dean shuffles through the bags and muses on their version of domesticity and the ease with which it's found him before he hears Sam's voice again, less sure and amused. "Ope? Come on Ope no time for playing around."

He's moving before he even realizes it. Dropping the jar of sauce onto the floor and ignoring the sound of shattering glass. Because it was going too well. She's sprawled on the couch, grey blanket under her chin and face settled too still and composed. Dean knows without having to see anything else what's wrong, and he just needs Sam to move. Needs him away.

"Sammy. Go get the first-aid kit ok? Smelling salts or something." It's a useless gesture, but Sam stumbles upwards and crashes his way down the hall towards the bathroom. Dean presses two fingers against her throat and feels the stillness there.

"Oh fuck. You can't-" That's when he sees the stain on the blanket, and he pulls it down slowly. She's surprisingly naked under the throw blanket, which is the least of his concerns. The gaping hole in her chest exposes the lost organ, and there's a glint of something that looks plastic, but he doesn't have time to study it because Sam has moved too quickly. There's the crash of the first-aid kit hitting the floor, and then Dean is being shoved away as Sam screams. Screams like an animal dying in a trap. The look in his eyes isn't too far from that, and Dean's not sure what to do. How to help. Sam is just screaming, and his voice keeps breaking on the "lia" part of her name as he clutches the little corpse to his chest and rocks.

It takes an hour to get him to let go, and then Sam clings to him and sobs helplessly. There are no words. Nothing but soothing noises, and that doesn't help much. He mostly carries Sam to the upstairs guest room, digs through the cabinet, and then pulls out two of Bobby's sedatives before forcing Sam to take them both and stroking his hair until the guy is unconscious. It's the best he can do.

He goes back into the living room and dips his fingers into her chest with a murmured apology. The plastic glint was a ziploc bag, and inside it is a note with Sam's name written in blocky letters. He pulls it out carefully and opens it slowly.

Your brother's heart is next.-Lilith

He calls Gabriel, because the guy deserves a heads-up. Because he knows how much he loved Ophelia. It doesn't hurt that this call will be easier than the one to Bobby. The voice that answers is cheery and ignorant. Grates against his current mood.

"Dean-o! How's my third favorite crazy person?"

For a moment he can't find his voice, and then it's there gruff and low. "You should come. Ope is-Ope is dead."

There's silence, a crackling along the line as if it was a bad land connection. "What?"

"She's dead. Murdered."

There's the sound of wings and he looks expecting Castiel and instead seeing Gabriel standing in the living room with his phone in one hand and his head tilted at an odd angle. He drops the cell and steps forward before touching her pale face. His voice is fire and smoke when it reaches Dean's ears. "Who?"

He holds out the note and Gabriel looks it over three or four times before handing it back. He sits on the floor and pulls the body into his lap. "Gabriel. We need to build a pyre. Give her a proper-"

"If you say funeral Winchester I'll end you where you stand. No one is giving her a funeral. No one is burning her body." There's a look in his eyes that Dean knows all too well. He doesn't argue, he just lets it go. This is grief, and Dean understands that, because his brain feels just as fried.

"Gabriel. We-"

"How did I get here instantly? Has it even clicked in your thick fucking skull?" Gabriel looks up, and the eyes aren't amber they are fucking golden. Inhuman.

"I don't know." And he doesn't. So much is going on in his head he can't really focus on that until Gabriel mentions it. But the guy…he's passed all the tests. Walked through the devil's traps and over the salt. The sound of wings...

"She's not staying dead. I won't let her stay dead." He stands then and holds the body close, tenderly, like she's a fragile doll he's carrying to its shelf. "Take care of Sam. I'll be back."

Except when Dean goes upstairs to get Sam his brother isn't there anymore.

Comments

[sammichgirl]

Apologizing up front should have given me a clue. And my heart dropped when I read it - and then I skipped to the end. (I can't help it, I live for spoilers) And I made an odd noise that got me a couple looks in the coffee shop, and then had to rush to read the whole thing. OMG! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Her heart. A PLASTIC ZIPLOC BAGGIE? A note for Sam. Oh, oh, it hurts. Not Ope. I mean, I knew it was coming, more than likely. But still.

AND GABE! What a way to reveal, buddy. How can he make it right? Can he bring her back to life? Oh wait. Yes, archangels can do that. Right? In this story can he make her ok? He was giving her back her eyesight bit by bit. And he loves her. Ohhhhh, that's just so. I love that.

Ope getting all pissed at Sam - that was perfect. Really, perfect way to handle her anger at Sam and what he did. Destroy everything they built together - maybe that will get him back on the right path. But then they went and killed her. So his anger, it is going to overcome what would have been a promise to her, isn't it?

Revenge. Justice. Duty and a call of passion, it's gonna eat him alive. Oh you keep twisting my heart!

Cas is on their side. And now I'm assuming Gabriel. Well, he always was, he's just gonna be more...active? Involved?

I also like how you weave in canon, it keeps it on track and on a path almost like a parallel Winchester universe. :)

K, gotta go cry now.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

So many answers I want to give you and just can't.

I was on the turnpike headed home when my phone went off to tell me about this comment, and I was so nervous about your reaction I made my hubby read it aloud. He gets to the end, looks over at me, and says, "What?" So I have to give him a brief run-down of the story and explain about Ope. His response? "You're kind of mean."

Also, he says I should feel guilty about making you cry. My response was that I would work on the next few chapters faster, as I've finally hit the end of my pre-written material. Then the last four songs on the radio as we drove home were three old Metallica and "Carry on My Wayward Son", and I figured out how to end this. Which I'm going to start working on now, because he's right, I'm kinda mean. But I can be better. :)

[sammichgirl]

LOL @ the mean. I'm perfectly ok with it...it's the Winchesters, it's gonna get ugly and angsty and hurtful and well, that's their lot in life. It's not all schmoop and roses.

And no worries on crying. That's a compliment to the writer!

I knew I loved this show when 1) the music, 2) the car and 3) THOSE BOYS, especially Jared/Sam. But the music, very kickass, love it. And this is odd, but I always wanted a '67 Chevy Impala, even before the show.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

What the effing eff???

How the hell could you do that!!!!!!

I'm going to take a deep breath and wait to see what happens next. There better be angel stuff happening, that's all I have to say.

Oh, and the factory take-down was awesome!!

Still, gosh...that was a really terrible scene. That baggie...*shudder*

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

So...it was plot necessary. I promise.

I'm sorry!

And I'm glad you liked the factory. :)

No! Not the end

[mcmaggie01.livejournal.com]

This story is AMAZING. I got it off SPN StoryFinders bless them. I am dreading the final chapter because I don't want this to end.

Thank you for sharing your talent and effort and creativity with us. You write from the different perspectives and capture Dean and Sam perfectly in this AU.

Re: No! Not the end

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! This one is my baby, and sometime this summer when classes have ended I plan on finishing the sequel so I can finally post it. Storyfinders you say? :D I'm doubly complimented.

Thank you for reading and for commenting!!