Soul Survivors

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Chapter one:

Light in the Dark

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"Sammy, hold on!" Dean croaked out, laying close, but not close enough, to reach his dying brother.

"De-" Sam coughed and spat blood. His hazel eyes said it all. He was so sorry for all the crap that went down. Feeling partly responsible even if he had nothing to do with the ambush besides falling for it. It was a routine check, during daylight no less. They were only there in that dilapidated house to gather evidence after the police had left the crime scene. To figure out what monster they were after.

The thing, whatever it was, got the jump on them. Knew they were coming here, and took out Sam first with his own weapon. Dean barreled in, on hearing Sam's gasping breaths, and was forced through the decorative glass wall partition. Then shoved back into the broken shards still stuck in the floor supports. Dean's ankle holster held a small yet powerful gun that took the head right off of the monster. They'll never know what it was, but at least it was dead.

Dean struggled to get closer, gasping like a fish out of water, his body ruined but still going, for at least a few more minutes anyway. "I'm right here... I'm coming little brother." Dean threw a bloody hand over and dragged his body closer. Sam was on his back, head turned severely to the side to watch Dean's slow progression closer. Blood and viscera smearing the ground as he went. A minute shake of his head for Dean to just stop, save his energy, wait for help. He knew he was a goner but Dean still had a chance. A long knife he had owned for ages, still sticking straight up out of his chest, the rest buried into its owner. At least the thing that stole it from him during the fight, the one who threw it in, is now dead. Its body was still leaning against the wall without its head. It did not go quietly into the night.

Sam felt pride in himself and Dean for at least taking it out before they died. He dared not turn his body towards his brother, because he felt the blade shift against his ribs. Somehow it had managed to bypass the bones and slid into a spot next to his lungs. It was a wonder how his heart hadn't been hit. He needed his brother to stop moving. To save himself. Wait for help.

"D-" Sam wheezed, the knife's sharp edge cut into his right lung. He gasped from the intense new pain and air left it out of the hole when the knife shifted. Blood pooled and fell from his chest as his eyes blanked out from pain. Jaw working soundlessly.

That spurred Dean on faster and he made it within a few feet now. "Sammy!" Dean cried and could see the chest of his Sasquatch brother rise and fall slower and slower, Sam's hands twitching at his sides. Dean finally reached him, hitting, bracing and kicking off of one of the pieces of broken furniture nearby, to get that one last boost forward. His hand clutched at Sam's trembling shoulder. Gripping the fabric as tight as he could, shaking it without actually shaking the arm beneath. Sam turned his head to the side, trying to see Dean from above and behind him. Making eye contact when Dean rolled into view.

He couldn't speak anymore, blood flowing out of his gasping mouth so he swallowed hard to keep it down. Giving his brother a kind, but pained grin. Struggling to tell Dean that it's ok. He's going to be alright. His pain is already going away. They got the monster, now it's just his time to go.

Dean got his other hand up, but that pressed his stomach even more into the debris riddled ground, digging into his open wounds. Crying out in renewed pain as his stomach muscles struggled to keep himself together. He pushed it aside, staring at his little brother. Tears flowed out of his eyes. Sam's own were dilating softly. The life leaving them like a dying candle. Dean knew that there was no hope. Sam was nearly gone. The trembling muscles slowing to the odd twitch. Dean mustered up a grin back, loosening his right hand to pat it onto Sam's neck, dragging the hand to lightly cup Sam's cheek.

"It's ok. Ok, little brother." He sucked in another burning breath. Keeping his bloodshot green eyes away from the familiar handle of Sam's knife and what it had done. Dean swallowed hard, mustering up some strength, "I'll see you soon, Sammy." he whispered before coughing. His head ducked down into his chest, wheezing and spitting out blood away so Sam didn't have to see. When he looked back up, his brother was gone.

Dean's hands trembled. The tightness of his fingers causing them to shake. Blood from his hands smeared on Sam's face as his hand dropped to the ground. "See you soon..." He abandoned the wad of fabric that had been holding in his stomach. Willing himself to go faster. He can't leave Sam alone. Can't.

Dean rolled onto his back, just like his brother, and stared up at the ceiling. Closing his eyes after looking out of the half broken window. There was a lush green tree outside. Just visible from the light in the room they were in. He closed his eyes tight after taking in that image of the living tree. Adamant that the last thing he see's when he's alive, is not that damned stained ceiling of this dilapidated hell house. He lost the strength to see Sam as he went, but his hand was still clutching onto the tan and brown flannel jacket Sam was wearing.

Dean had died countless times. This one was it. The grand finale. All that awaited he and Sam was the empty. The void. As promised by Billie the Reaper before Cas had killed her. No doubt that other Reapers would be more then willing to finish the job she promised.

What's dead should stay dead.

Dean sighed, trying to keep the thicker fluids out of his throat for it, because coughing hurt, and he just did not want to hurt anymore. He wanted to join Sam wherever he is. Thoughts were becoming disjointed and he wondered if the big empty was actually space. A black hole that their souls will be thrown into. He'd rather go there if it had to be somewhere void of things. Musing weakly about how cool it would be for the Winchester brothers to be the first people to see a black hole up close and personal. Even if no one would know, they would. It made the idea of disappearing into nothing somewhat bearable.

Suddenly remembering Tessa's voice from ages ago, "Your fight is over."

Dean's fingers curled and twitched around Sam's shirt. Loosing their grip. He mustered up the strength to grab more of the fabric, ensuring that the hand will stay holding onto his brother, even after he's died. As morbid of a thought it was, he knew rigger would set in if he propped his hand up the right way for this last act, last hold, to stay permanent.

Sounds were muffled, his sense of touch diminishing. The cold of the cement floor no longer bothered him. The glass shards in his ruined stomach might as well have been soft downy feathers. He kept his eyes closed. Bringing up the image of his brother one last time, but even that was fading. Pictures overlapping with all the times he's looked at his face through the years. Images of friends and families they'd lost, and the few that were still alive. Dean let them come and wash over him. Comforting him that they'd saved so many. Sorry that they'd left their loved ones so soon. Their fight was over. It's done.

He relaxed into the ground. Breathing his last.

Gravel crunched along a path in the distance, growing louder. The sound of a truck's engine roaring closer and closer before it abruptly cut out outside. The door creaked open, admitting the figure into the dilapidated house. Fast steps searching the rooms. Breaths panting from panic and worry. Silver blade out front with a gun still in its holster, ignored. Old habits.

He finally found them. Laying on their backs. Blood everywhere.

"No..." Cas fell to his knees between them. His angel blade clattered to the ground. One hand gently laid on each body. His breaths were hard and his eyes darted about frantically for something to help save them. He couldn't heal anymore. Couldn't wake them up. There was nothing to help bind their numerous wounds. Even as he searched desperately for some answer. How these two Hunters, saviors of the world, could die in such squalor. A headless body was the answer and Castiel just barely refrained from setting it ablaze. The whole place would go up instantly. It was already dead and he had more important people to tend to.

He already knew it was too late. Sam and Dean Winchester were dead. His head bowed forward in utter grief. Tears falling to the cement. He'd hardly ever wept before. The loss too unbearable to hold it in. The brothers meant more to him then most of his angelic family. They'd stayed by his side more then anyone. Took him in, taught him about free will and tried to keep him on the right path. He owed them everything. And now they were leaving him alone. As an angel, even one with such limited grace, he knew he'd outlive the humans, yet, he thought foolishly that he'd have more time then this.

Castiel's body shuddered and bend forward between the two. Moaning in pain at the loss. Begging them to come back. He was so wrapped up in grief, he barely sensed another supernatural presence coming in fast. Joined quickly by several more. Gaining more as they came. Of course. He wasn't allowed to mourn in peace.

Reapers.

"No." He said with determined force. Glaring out the window where he was sure they were going to barge in. His hands nearly lifted from the bodies when he felt it. The slight tingle. The warmth. A timid light starting to peek out from the holes in each corpse like soft white fireflies in fog. His eyes widened as he looked down at Dean then Sam. Lifting his palms up just a minuscule fraction, and seeing the two soul's light respond and slowly rise up along with his hands. The souls resembled smoky light glowing past his hands. The brilliant white light emerging from the body and causing the thinner parts of his hands to glow red from it.

Castiel hadn't realized what he was doing until he saw the light shine out from underneath his fingers. Shafts of it illuminating the room in bands that dissipated depending on how he held his hands over the source. Curling wisps of soul light, lazily flowed in a tight circle underneath his hands, but still mostly inside the bodies they'd come from.

Castiel slowly realized what he'd done. He was begging in his mind, for Sam and Dean to come back to him. His grace took that plea and turned it into a command. Telling Sam and Dean's souls to literally come to him. The soul's white smoky light seemed to branch out, move randomly, until they didn't. Each one stayed under his hands.

An idea came to him and he had to act now. No time to second guess himself because the Reapers were fast. They'd probably been hampered in narrowing down the Winchester's location, just like he had been with all of the spell work on the walls. Sam's prayer out to him a garbled mess of English but the 'voice' was all him, and Cas could hear the fear in it. The events within the building were muffled from the rest of the world, but luckily, cell phone reception worked just fine. Dean's pleading call had cut off sharply with only his name being uttered, a pained shout in the distance.

Long ago, Sam showed him how to use the tracker program that he convinced Dean to let him install in the Impala. The Impala was out back, his truck parked next to it. The trackers in those vehicles was secured for their little group only, and had been invaluable. Otherwise, he might never have found the brothers.

At least, not in time to get to them before their souls were gone for good. Right now, he knew that he had maybe seconds before the Reapers showed. Feeling his pseudo kin closing in.

Castiel knew this had never been done before, but he had to try. He had to save them.

He closed his eyes and mustered up what little of his grace he had left. One hand pressed more firmly to each chest, over each brother's hearts. He pressed hard and felt the souls curl and sweep inside the bodies that were turning cold even as he knelt there. As if they were gathering up every piece of themselves within the body. From their toes to their heads.

"Come Here." He whispered in Enochian, and lifted his hands at the same time. Pulling the souls up and out of the bodies. They were sluggish from exhaustion, but so brilliantly white. Curling around his splaying fingers. As if recognizing him. Perhaps they did. He'd spent more time with these humans than any other. Touched each of their raw souls before. Mended them countless times after hunts that went south. He knew them inside and out and would know their souls anywhere. And it seems, that they knew him right back, on an instinctual level. Trusting him. Showing their faith in him by curling tightly around his hands, light wispy tendrils trailing up his arms. Soaking in the warmth of his vessel and grace.

Castiel marveled at the sight. Sure he'd held souls before, sought them out inside the chest cavities of several humans, as well as the brothers, but this was the very first time that souls had held him right back. It was awe inspiring.

He could feel the first Reaper touch down outside. He'd already interfered more then once before in the affairs of Reapers. The most notable of which ended with one of their kin slain via his angel blade in her back to get the brothers out of a deal bound in blood. The consequences of violating that deal was said to have Cosmic consequences. Whether that was Billie exaggerating, or telling the truth, he didn't know. What Castiel did know, was that he wouldn't be allowed to walk out of here unpunished. Especially with a Winchester's soul in each hand.

As if sensing the danger, both souls curled even tighter around his hands. Small sparks of light coming off of them in nervous and angry waves. Perhaps becoming aware of what's happening. Cas wanted to console them but that would take too long. He reached down for his blade and quickly returned it to it's place. Not wanting to hurt the soul who shied away from it, gripping his arm tighter in brief fear of contact. He wanted to apologize but heard the wind kick up outside.

He was out of time.