Brothers Keep Her

Sacrifice

Something's going on.  You're jostling around when you just want to lie still. It's not by your doing, no. The sounds you hear are muffled as though you are underwater, but you know you aren't. You don't feel weightless enough to be underwater. You feel heavy and lethargic. Like you'd sink if it were not for something holding you up.

A heavy door slams and the metal clamor sends a jolt of pain through your head, and the sounds become clearer and clearer as you realize someone is carrying you down a set of stairs... in the bunker. The smell and feel of it is unmistakeable - you don't have to see it to know. Even though it's been empty for nearly a year when the boys abandoned it to go their separate ways, it still carries their signatures: Sam's cologne, and Dean's whiskey and clean cotton laundry soap, and the dust of decades gone by.

You open your eyes as you are set into an armchair in the study. Your head wants to roll at first, but you stiffen your neck and look up into Sam's face. "Sam?"

His eyes are red and puffy, his nostrils look wet. "[Y/N]," he breathes, and relief washes over him.

You want to touch his face, but the strength hasn't returned to your arms, yet. Your limbs are intoxicatedly heavy. The Angel stands quietly to the side, watching as Sam crouches down in front of you with his hands on your shoulders so you won't fall over. "I thought we lost you again," he says, but his voice breaks.

Your head feels heavy, but you turn toward Castiel anyway. It's difficult to pull your eyes up to make contact, but you do it. "Thank you." Your raspy voice is a testament to your dry throat.

Castiel doesn't smile, he doesn't speak; he merely stares hard at you.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks, searching your eyes. His hands move from your shoulders, to the sides of your neck, to your arms.

You nod. "Yeah. Thanks to you." You steal a glance at Castiel but he stands stoic as ever. "We have to find Dean." You wince as a sharp pain shoots through your rib cage, but you're thankful that it's gone as fast as it comes.

Sam shakes his head. "I don't know how. He could be anywhere," he says, and runs a hand over his head. "Cas?" He looks at the Angel.

Without breaking his stare, Castiel says, "I cannot find him. You know this, Sam."

Your heart begins to pound and your mind races. There has to be a way. You have to find him. You didn't have any trouble before, when you first took the job. The first couple of years, it was easy to keep track of him and Sam. But you were stronger, then. Damn him, you think, angry at yourself for falling in love. It made you weak, and nearly cost you your life - and now it may cost Dean's, too.

You suddenly feel the presence of a fourth being in the room and when you turn, you meet Billie's eyes.

"Hello, boss," she says with fake pleasantry, startling Sam, as she glowers down at you.

Castiel locks his gaze on her. Sam scrambles to his feet and stands by your side with one hand on your shoulder.

"Billie," you say, swallowing hard. "Where've you been?"

"Looking for this," she says, and with a wave of her hand, Dean lies on the floor at her feet, panting and writhing in pain.

"Dean?" Sam's voice is somewhere between a whisper and a cry.

The malicious grin on her face as she faces Sam is a big red flag. Each time she contracts her fingers, Dean cries out.

Your chest tightens. "Stop!" You lunge out of the chair with some of your strength back, but it's not enough. After three hurried steps you crash to your knees, but that doesn't stop you. You crawl to him. He's got dried blood caked from his hairline down the side of his face to his jawline. What's still wet trickles in whichever direction gravity deems. "Oh, my God," you whisper. You can't keep your hands steady as you reach for him and take his hand. "Dean," you say, praying he will open his eyes. His breaths are shallow and his lips have gone pale. "Dean."