Summary: Dean do have an angel watching over him, just like Mary said… and he wears a tie and suit. Different ending to season 3.
Warnings: Spoilers I guess. But there aren't a lot of people here that hasn't seen the third season.
Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural.
Dean was busy trying to make the hellhounds get the hell (ironic much?) off him, so he could not even scream his brother's name as Sam went flying right through the windows out to the street. Lilith smiled cruelly, waved at Dean, bye bye, and moved to follow. On second thought, she stopped for a moment and said:
"Take it slow, boys. Make his death long."
Dean could cheerfully strangle her ass back to hell right there and then, just let him kick the hellhounds to death first and he was fit for fight. Next attack was agonizing slow and he screamed as blood gushed out from the wounds. Lilith's laughter rang in his ears and he heard her step out, to Sam, she's gonna kill Sammy and I'm puppy food well just fucking great, and Dean's screams turned to words:
"Someone! Someone, help! Fucking help! God!"
He never meant for the last to come out but once it did he could not stop the stream that followed while he battled against the hellhounds' jaws:
"Please God, don't let her kill him, don't let Sammy die, please God, please, please, I don't wanna die!" He tried to pry the closest hellhound's mouth away, felt the teeth dig into his hands, blood dropping down onto his face as he held the fangs away from him, and he screamed at the blindingly hot pain, fear making his heart pump faster, the blood running out on the floor and he realized how much he desired to live, if only long enough to save Sam from that bitch.
And suddenly the hellhounds were gone and so was the pain and the blood stopped flowing and he could breathe. Dean coughed and sat up, held his hand against his chest, felt the ripped T-shirt but no wounds, lots of blood though, what the fuck I'm not even hurt anymore, and he whipped his head up at the sound of wings flapping.
A man was standing in front of him, with a beige coat, suit with the tie slightly loose, the hair tousled and the blue eyes fastened on him. Dean felt like laughing all of a sudden, this hysterical laugh you get sometimes when finally something goes your way after a long list of fucked-up failures. Wisely he bit his tongue and rode the feeling out. The man tilted his head a bit and Dean released his abused tongue in order to say:
"Forgive for asking, but who the hell are you?" And why I am still alive, I should be dead, holy fuck I'm still alive.
"You didn't want to die," the man stated calmly, tilting his head, almost like a curious child. He was standing in a partly destroyed house, Dean on the floor before him covered in blood and sounded like he was talking about the weather. Dean pushed down the urge to laugh again. "You're not dying on my watch."
Now Dean was confused, and the relief of hearing someone was looking out for him made him all dizzy. "Okaaaay… who are you now again?"
"I'm Castiel. The rest we can speak about when the demons are gone and your brother is safe."
Dean uttered a curse, got up on his feet but swayed heavily. The man was there, steadying him and Dean wondered how the hell Castiel managed to move so fast. And maybe a bit of what Castiel was.
"Take this. The demons tried to hide it, but they didn't see me coming."
Looking down, Dean saw the Colt in Castiel's hand and then he looked up at the man again.
"I'm so saving the question of what you are until later, because there's no way in hell a hunter dress up in a suit," he said.
The man, or whatever he was, had the nerve to quirk his lips.
Sam got up on his feet, ignoring the tears running down his face and saw Lilith come walking, slowly and smiling like crazy.
"It's time, Sam," she said. "Time for you to go."
He looked around, saw the other demons, swallowed heavily. His brother was dying, or dead already, Bobby was not going to get there in time and as it stood now, it was Sam against all of them. Great. I'm so screwed.
"Let me enjoy this, slowly," Lilith said and the smile turned sickly sweet. "Just like your brother is dying slowly. Oh, I can't wait to hear about how little Dean is faring in hell, screaming like a girl."
Sam felt anger blossom up and he gripped Ruby's knife tightly. His only weapon. No way could he get close enough to kill anyone of them, let alone Lilith herself but it was a small comfort. A very small one but still… he always clung to hope, and right now that knife was the only hope Lilith hadn't taken from him.
The screams from his brother had died down and Lilith grinned. Sam tried to stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks but it was not so easy. Dean was dead. He had to be. There was no way he would walk quietly into death. He would go with shouts, and screams, and kicking and hitting.
"Seemed like your brother just took his one-way ticket to hell," she said. "Too bad his death didn't take longer."
Sam gripped the knife even tighter, his knuckles turning white and he held it up, posed to attack. Who he did not know, but he was hoping Lilith would have the knife sticking out of her chest.
"You think you can use that?" she asked, laughed. "You think you can kill me from this distance?"
"He can't, true but I know I can, you bitch."
Hearing the voice, both Lilith and Sam snapped their heads to see the speaker.
Wasting no time, Dean cocked the gun and fired. Lilith began laughing, thinking it was a normal gun… until the bullet went straight through her heart and she gasped. She stood still for a moment, eyes wide, surprise and fear flickering in her gaze, staring right at Dean who did not lower the gun, held it trained on her, ready to fire another shot if necessary. Then her whole body twitched, bones lightning up for a moment and Lilith's eyes dimmed, the body falling to the ground and a gentle trail of smoke coming from the wound.
The demons looked up at Dean who held the Colt up, sweeping motions towards them, ready to fire. They stood silent for mere moments and then suddenly all fled their vessels. Dean looked behind him, into the house, but Castiel was gone. Swallowing down all the questions he caught sight of the time. Quarter after midnight, Lilith was dead and he was still there. Maybe… the deal was off? He turned back and it was eerie still and quiet, the bodies lying unconscious around them. His hand that held the Colt was shaking slightly.
Sam looked back at him, saw him alive and realized the time. The taller one took a step closer, and choked out:
Dean remembered the man had seen his chest ripped open by an invisible force. The hand holding the gun lowered down to his side, slipping down on the ground from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Damn, he was tired.
"Yeah," he answered his baby brother, almost breathless. "It's fucking me."
This time, this hug, Dean did not mind it, the strong arms around him, Sam almost sobbing into his shoulder of relief, he just gripped Sam back as tightly and felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
Sam could not move away so Dean held onto him but twisted his head so he could see Bobby come running. He could feel Sam's legs give up and they sank down on their knees. That was actually a kinda good thing because his legs were a bit more than wobbly and he was practically flying high from the blood-loss. A bed would be nice, and long uninterrupted sleep and then food. God, he missed food already.
Back to reality. Bobby was gaining on them, Dean didn't know the man could run that fast, and Sam was now sobbing into his shoulder, hands gripping tight enough to give bruises.
"Hey come on, Sammy, stop crying," he soothed. "Come on, I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay."
Bobby got down next to them.
"You're okay?" he asked Dean with wide eyes.
"Yeah," Dean said. "Yeah, I'm fine… I think…"
"What?" Bobby said.
Sam finally looked up.
"Yeah, what?" he asked, tears running down his eyes as he gripped Dean hard.
"I think… I just saw that guardian angel mom kept talking about…"
After finished explaining what had happened in the house, Bobby and Sam stared at him.
"I know it sounds fucked up," he said and rubbed his forehead, "but can we please go somewhere where I can eat and sleep? I'm fucking exhausted."
"You need fluids," Sam said. "If you lost that much blood and all."
"And a hand up, my legs ain't answering the calls anymore." Now the two noted Dean's pained expression and Sam was quick on his feet and then gently lifting Dean up to a standing position. If the man could have felt his legs, that would have been great but as it stood now he clung to his little brother in a desperate effort to not topple over.
"Alright, Dean, it's only Bobby and me here, you can handle an embarrassing-act then, right?"
"Lemme think about it," Dean answered, voice muffled from being pressed into Sam's jacket.
"No thinking." With that Sam fastened one arm around Dean's shoulders, lowered down to curl the other behind his big brother's knees and then Dean's head was swimming from the change of position. He gripped onto his brother tightly, moaning at the dizziness.
"It's okay," Sam whispered into his hair. "But no more burgers for you, dude."
"Oh, I hate you."
"Shut up, jerk."
"You shut it, bitch."
"Boys." Bobby tried to look annoyed but the sheer fact Dean wasn't in hell but bickering with his little brother made his heart swell and his muscles in his face not cooperating, instead showing them a relieved grin.
Dean did not complain when Sam carried him from the Impala to Bobby's house, just clung onto his brother as darkness threatened to take over. He felt himself being lowered down on the couch and then Sam's giant hands gently unlacing and tugging off his boots.
Moments later, a glass of water against his lips and he sucked it down, not caring who held the glass just enjoyed the feel of the cold liquid running down his throat. He didn't even protest as he felt a hand on his back, rubbing softly. Big hand. Sam then.
Once the water was gone he managed to open his eyes and he grinned at his little brother.
"Want to go to sleep or have something to eat?" Sam asked.
"Hell, I'm alive so bring the food in," Dean said and Bobby rolled his eyes.
"I see what I can get," he said and vanished into the kitchen.
Meanwhile Sam helped Dean out of the bloody clothes and could not help but watch his alive big brother, who was now struggling to get one of Sam's hoodies on. Sam reached out, helped him tug it down over his head and for once Dean did not complain; he just went along with it and smiled drowsily up at his brother.
"Okay, seems like heavy alcohol and heavy blood loss has the same impact on you, but let's keep away from all that blood-losing stuff, okay?"
"Sure, Sammy. 'm hungry."
"Yeah, I know." Sam stroke Dean's short hair, couldn't help himself and was glad when Dean didn't do anything but lean into the touch slightly. He rubbed the scalp firmly with the tips of his fingers and the older one let out a satisfied groan.
A few minutes later the three were wolfing down sandwiches and sodas, Dean feeling like he had not eaten in days. But still, after four of those and two sodas he felt bone-tired and collapsed back against the couch.
"Let's get you to a bed, okay?" Sam said. "Can you stand?"
With his little brother's help Dean got to a standing position and Bobby guided them to a guestroom, showing Sam where he kept sheets for the bed before going down and clearing away the trash after their meal. Dean sat on a chair in the room while Sam made the beds ready, head lolling and hands lying limply in his lap. Sam thought he looked ridiculously small in that hoodie.
"Alright, all done."
"Sweet," Dean said and managed to wobble over. Falling down on the bed, he buried his face into the pillow and groaned. "I can sleep for a freaking week."
"Yeah, yeah," Sam said and wrestled him underneath the covers. "You wake me up if you need anything, okay?"
"Sure," Dean mumbled, and then he was out. However, Sam did not move over to his own bed, instead he sat down on Dean's and watched his brother's face. Just a few hours ago he thought he would say goodbye to his brother, that his brother was going to die and that he would have failed saving Dean.
Now Dean had been saved by a complete stranger who helped them. Dean had called him an angel but there are no such things as angels…
At the moment, Sam was not sure of anything. He kicked off his shoes and looked over at his bed. His bed, or Dean's bed. It was not really that hard of a choice and he gingerly climbed over his brother to settle down on the other side of the bed. It should be big enough to hold them both.
Within moments, he was asleep.
Dean opened his eyes in the dark and knew he was being watched. He slowly sat up and looked over to the window in the room while Sam slept on.
Castiel's eyes were almost glittering.
"Hello, Dean," he said softly.
Dean got up from the bed, a hand on Sam's shoulder when the man moved underneath the sheets, then he came to stand next to the angel by the window. He was still a bit sleepy but he knew Castiel was there for real. And that he was real.
"Hey," he managed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, at least for a little bit.
"You didn't have to get up," the man said, still quiet, not wanting to wake Sam up.
"Easier," Dean said. "Ready to tell me exactly who you are?"
Castiel smiled a bit at that, then opened his mouth.
When Sam woke up, Dean stood by the window, looking out at the slowly rising sun. The younger man laid still, eyes on his big brother's strong back, just watching. Dean turned his head slightly, a smile on his face and he said:
"I know you're awake, Sammy."
"Still can't fool you, huh?" Sam asked and sat up. "What are you doing up already?"
"I wasn't tired."
"You were dead on your feet a couple of hours ago." He didn't flinch at the word dead, although he knew had things gone bad Dean would have been dead for real.
"Well, I'm not now."
Dean's smile turned a bit wider, and he looked outside again. Sam rose up, went over to him and placed a hand on his brother shoulder.
"My guardian angel wears a tie and suit," Dean answered, chuckled a bit. "A freaking tie and suit. Hilarious."
"Your… guardian angel?"
"Castiel," the man said. "He's out there somewhere, making sure our asses are safe. You know, before soon I might also start to believe in God."
Sam wasn't sure of what to say. His brother had never expressed any kind of belief in a power above them. He looked over at Dean's face.
The smile was still there, now soft, and his eyes were calm as he watched the salvage yard outside.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
"You know? I actually think I am."
All thanks to a guardian angel in tie and suit.
I started this one eons ago it feels like but I finally finished it!
Until another time,