The Dream I Dreamed (A Dean Winchester Love Story)

Chapter 35: Now Life Has Killed the Dream

Chapter 35 Now Life Has Killed the Dream

Dean walked calmly into the warehouse, black eyes fixed on the King of Hell. "Crowley. Good to see you." He greeted him.

The words had barely left his mouth when Sam stepped out from behind Death's wall, brandishing the amulet before him. "In anima hominis torta educerent. Fac Daemon cognoscere amet. Amore, fide, virtute atque symbolice fert familia, hoc caliginoso illuminet cor." He chanted, walking closer to his brother. "In anima hominis torta educerent. Fac Daemon cognoscere amet. Amore, fide, virtute atque symbolice fert familia, hoc caliginoso illuminet cor." Dean was frozen in place. Sam came closer and closer, the amulet glowing in his grasp.

Sam was inches away from his brother now. He reached out slowly, cautiously, to slide the cord of the necklace over Dean's head. Dean closed his eyes, breathing unsteadily, his entire body trembling. "Dean?" Sam asked hesitantly "Dean?"

The older Winchester's eyes flickered open. They were their usual, human, vibrant shade of green. "Sammy?" he breathed.

"Dean!" Sam pulled his brother into a hug. Dean stood there, rigid and confused. Sam pulled away. "Do you remember?" Dean frowned, as if trying to think of what had happened to him. "You're a demon, Dean. But we can change you back. We just need your help."

Dean nodded. "Okay." Castiel came out from behind Death's wall, followed by Hope and Death himself. Hope's eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of Dean's eyes--green and gentle instead of cruel and black. It took all of her self control to keep from running to him, but she had promised to stay back while the others carried out the plan. Instead she smiled brilliantly at him when their eyes met. Dean looked slightly confused, still not entirely human, but his eyes were kind.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked Cas.

The angel nodded. "Yes." He slid a small silver blade across his palm, crimson blood pooling from the cut. "Let's get started."

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A few hours later, Castiel and Dean we both exhausted. Sweat covered their faces, and Castiel's normally pale skin was white as paper. Dean sat in a chair, his eyes closed, clutching the amulet still around his neck. The angel blood seemed to be making the demonic part of him fight harder against Death's spell, as if it knew it was about to be eradicated. Dean moaned as Castiel gave him another dose of his blood, but he dutifully swallowed the thick red liquid.

Hope sat in a chair in the corner of the room, eyes closed, massaging her temples. Sam walked over to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She took a deep breath, opening her eyes. "The ritual is just...it's like a vortex of power. It's sucking me in, sapping what's left of my Grace." She shook her head. "I don't know how Cas is still standing, so close to it. I don't know how you made it as far as you did with Crowley."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well, it nearly killed me."

"Yeah." Hope looked at Cas, leaning against a wall near Dean's chair, trying to catch his breath. He had sheded his trench coat and black suit jacket long ago. "He's not going to survive, is he?" She whispered.

"Cas is strong. He'll push through." Sam said, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.

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Soon after, Hope had to get Sam to help her outside in an attempt to get as far away from the ritual as possible. She was shaking, unable to keep an occasional whimper of pain from escaping her lips. Sam carried her outside and layed her gently in the back seat of the Impala, which Dean had left parked outside. It was filthier than either of them had ever seen it, but it was still the most familiar resting place available.

Out of habit, Sam climbed into the passenger seat. He busied himself by picking up the garbage from the floor boards and consolidating it into a plastic bag he found stuffed in the glove box.

After a while, a knock on the passenger window started Sam. He looked up. It was Crowley. "He's about to administer the last dose of blood, if you want to come." He said.

"How are they?" Sam asked.

"Dean is fine. A little sweaty, a little knackered, but fine. Castiel is...not so fine."

Sam glanced back at Hope. She was watching him, her pale eyes pained but alert. "I'm awake. And I'm coming."

Sam nodded, not arguing for once. "Okay."

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When Sam and Hope came into the warehouse, they found Dean slumped in his seat, eyes closed. Castiel was shakily unwrapping the cut on his hand. He was as white as a sheet and covered in sweat, his breathing labored. He took a step toward Dean and stumbled, his legs unable to support his weight. Sam rushed forward and draped the angel's arm over his shoulder, allowing him to lean on him. Hope followed more slowly, wincing at the buzz of energy in the room that set her Grace simmering inside of her.

"Cas?" Sam asked. "Are you okay?" As soon as the words left his mouth Sam realized what a stupid question it was. "I mean, do you need to stop? You can. We'll figure something out."

Cas shook his head. "No." He mumbled, shrugging Sam's arm away and trying again to walk toward Dean. "No, I can--ah!" he stumbled agaiin, but Sam caught him. "I can do it."

Hope stepped close to her brother, placing a hand on each side of his face and stroking the skin just below his eyes with her thumbs. "Thank you for this." She whispered, her throat thick. She planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He smiled softly. "You're welcome." Castiel looked at Sam, whose eyes were red and filling with tears. "It's time."

Sam nodded. He wrapped his other arm around the angel in a brief hug. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas just nodded as he stumbled forward, aided by Sam, and placed his bleeding palm over Dean's mouth. Dean murmured a protest, only half conscious, but Castiel pressed harder, until finally Dean's lips were forced open.

As the blood trickled into Dean's mouth, a white light began to flow from Castiel's chest. He grunted in pain but managed to remain still, his hand against Dean's lips. The light trailed down his arm and into his hand, flowing through him into Dean.

A high-pitched noise filled Hope's head. She clutched her ears, trying to block it out, but it just got louder and louder. A fire was kindled inside of her, burning her heart, her stomach, her lungs. The bright light continued to fill Dean, spreading through the entire warehouse. Hope's knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

"Hope?" Sam called.

She couldn't find her voice to answer. The light got brighter and sharper, the noise higher and louder, the fire hotter and more fierce. And then...

Nothing.

"Hope?" A voice asked, but it wasn't Sam's, or Crowley's, or Death's, or even Castiel's. Yet it was familiar somehow. Painfully familiar. She could feel gentle hands on her shoulders, but her vision was blurred. She couldn't make out anything."Hope, can you hear me?"

And suddenly it hit her. "Dean?" she asked.

"Yes. It's me. Really me. It worked."

Hope sighed in relief. Then she remembered. "And Cas?" Dean was silent. She knew what that meant. "Oh." Tears pricked in her eyes. Castiel was dead. The momentary joy at getting Dean back had made her forget the fire coursing through her body, but now it was back. She cried out, clutching Dean's hand weakly.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, panicked. "What's wrong with her? Do something!" he looked pleading at Death.

He just shook his head. "Her Grace is too damaged. There's nothing I can do. I'm not in the business of miracles."

A voice came from the door of the warehouse, interrupting Dean before he could yell at Death. "Did you miss me?"