Broken, a Destiel Story

Part 22

Dean woke up to his phone buzzing.  He'd fallen asleep on the table, drooling.  He picked up his phone and saw that it was Sam.  He wiped the drool from his mouth and answered.  "Hey, how's it going?" he asked groggily, wiping his eyes.  But the way Sam's voice sounded when he answered made him immediately alert.  

"Dean," Sam said, weakly.  "I got them, but .  .  ."

"But what, Sammy?" Dean asked, standing up.  "Are you okay?"

"They're dead, Dean," Sam said.  "But, I'm hurt.  I'm hurt pretty bad."

"I'm coming, Sammy," Dean said, already on his way up the stairs.  "Hold on.  I'm coming."

It was about a 20 minute drive to the vamp nest, and Dean drove as fast as he could.  His heart was pounding.  Tears started forming in his eyes as he thought about what he might find when he got there.  If something happened to Sam . . . it would be his fault.  His fault for letting his brother go out alone, and for being too hungover in the first place to go with him.  He had let Sam down in so many ways lately . . . but he couldn't think like that.  He had to stay focused so he could drive.  

Suddenly his phone rang, and he was surprised to see Cas's name on the screen.  He hesitated to answer but he did anyway.  "Cas, listen, it's not really a good time," he started.

"Dean, I have Sam," Cas said. "Come home."

"What?" Dean said, both relieved and confused.  "How . . .?"

"He prayed to me, Dean," Cas said.  "I have him but you need to come home," he repeated.

Dean was having trouble collecting his thoughts but he said, "Okay," and turned around, racing back the way he'd come.  "Cas, is he . . . is he okay?" he asked, his voice shaking.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Just get here, Dean," Cas said, urgency in his voice, and the call ended.

*********

"Dean," Cas said when he saw the hunter burst through the door to Sam's room.  He stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in, next to Sam's bed.  

"Sam?" Dean said, moving to his brother's side.  He was unconscious.  "Sam?" he said again desperately.  "Cas, what's wrong with him?"  He turned to the angel, tears in his eyes.

Cas moved closer to Sam, on the opposite side of the bed from Dean and lifted Sam's shirt.  

"What the hell?" Dean asked.  There were black veins starting on Sam's stomach and moving up his abdomen.  

"I don't know," Cas said.  "I've tried to heal him but it's not working. Whatever cut him, it must have been laced with some sort of poison. I thought it might be magic of some sort so I contacted Rowena but the reversal spell she had me try didn't work either.  I'm afraid once it gets to his heart . . . "

"So, what do we do?" Dean asked in desperation.  "We can't just let him die, Cas."

"Dean, I think you need to ask Jack for help," Castiel said.

Dean looked at his brother, hating himself for having let this happen.  

"Dean, you need to ask Jack for help," Castiel repeated urgently.  "He's our last shot at saving Sam."

Dean came out of his trance, but he was having a hard time actually reaching out to Jack.  Not because of anger this time, but because of guilt, and shame, and pride. Because he didn't want to admit that he needed help from the person he'd shunned for the past month.  Because he didn't feel like he deserved Jack's help after what he'd done to him.  And because he didn't know what he would do if Jack didn't come.  But he knew he had to try.  For Sam's sake, he had to try.