Part IV

Castiel stood in the corner of the infirmary, eyes fixed on Balthazar who was laying on one of the cots. Hael was kneeling on the floor beside him, her hands folded over each other and hovering above his chest. An opalescent shimmer rippled out from her fingertips into a silhouette of a butterfly's wings. They fanned out and floated down to settle over Balthazar's sternum, pulsing with pearly energy that infused healing into her patient. His lax face in unconsciousness glowed white in the halo.

Anna sat by Balthazar's other side. For all her spats with the insouciant angel, she'd come to care for him. Everyone in their small cohort had become part of this tight-knit family unit over the weeks and months in hiding and fighting against the Apocalypse.

And Castiel felt the pain and anguish of their loss as a personal failure.

He watched the aura of Hael's grace coruscate in prismatic bands, interacting directly with Balthazar's wounded essence in a way that only a healer's could without siphoning off her own energy. Not that healing wasn't straining, especially with so many wounded.

She moved one hand up to Balthazar's forehead, and a smaller glistering butterfly fluttered down across his brow. His facial muscles twitched, perhaps in discomfort.

After several long moments, Hael finally pulled back, her grace animal folding back in with a receding of her light. Castiel heard her tell Anna that Balthazar would be all right. Anna gave a nod of acknowledgement, and Hael stood to go see to someone else. She was stretched thin tending to them all.

Castiel tried to stay out of the way, one arm wrapped stiffly across bruised ribs. He'd survive. Daniel and Edina had fallen in the battle. Josiah was gravely wounded and it was unclear if he would make it. Castiel closed his eyes against a swell of grief.

"Castiel, have you been treated yet?"

He opened his eyes to find Gabriel standing next to him. The archangel had suffered injuries like the rest of them, and had one arm bound securely in a sling.

"My wounds aren't severe," he replied. "They can wait."

Gabriel flicked a glance over the various cuts and scratches Castiel felt stinging along his face and arms from the scavenger demons, then narrowed his eyes pointedly at the way Castiel was holding his ribcage.

"Mhm-hm. Come on. You don't want those getting infected. Who knows what nastiness those demon scum were carrying." The archangel raised his good arm to place a hand on Castiel's shoulder and started to guide him out of the infirmary.

"Gabriel, you're injured," Castiel protested.

"Couldn't let you guys outdo me," he quipped. "Besides, with one good arm from each of us, we can at least get these cleaned up."

Castiel sighed as he let himself be led down the passage and to a small room in the back of the underground bunker, one of their tranquil nooks with comfortable furniture, a running water fountain of soothing burbles, and a skylight that always looked up at the stars. Even angels needed a sanctuary to rest and recharge.

"Sit," Gabriel directed, and went to an end table where he knelt down to grab a med kit from its cupboard.

Castiel grimaced as he carefully lowered himself onto the sofa. Shrugging off his jacket was equally unpleasant, but he gritted his teeth and managed. The shirt was another matter, and pulling it up over his head had him choking on a pained grunt.

"Nice palette," Gabriel commented, and Castiel glanced down at the starbursts of black and puce decorating his chest.

Gabriel soaked a clean cloth in the fountain of holy water, squeezing the excess out as best he could with one hand before applying it.

Castiel winced, and silently endured the next several minutes of Gabriel cleaning out the various cuts and slashes made from beastly claws. The holy water stung in the raw fissures of flesh, but only for a bit. Once any demonic residue was neutralized, the pain receded to a dull throb that would heal with time.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said quietly. "I should have planned better, should have gotten us out of there sooner so you would have had time to close the Gate."

Gabriel stilled in his ministrations, expression turning stern. "That wasn't your fault."

"I was leading the mission," he pressed. "It was my responsibility, and I failed."

"You didn't fail. The bomb went off."

"But it didn't destroy the portal."

"And that was my task," Gabriel said a tad sharply. "One I knew Heaven would do everything in its power to stop. It was a long-shot from the start."

Castiel looked away. He knew that. And yet, a part of him had started desperately hoping that he'd be able to return and tell Sam and Dean they'd succeeded. Plus, he was the one who had backed Balthazar's crazy idea. And he'd almost lost his friend because of it.

"Castiel- Cas," Gabriel said, tone softening. "We all knew the danger going in. And you did succeed. That entire area of Hell near the portal would have been decimated, which means it will be a while before any more demons come through to Earth. That is a win, even if it's a small one." He settled a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You did good, and I'm proud of all of you."

Castiel let out a shuddering breath, but bowed his head in acceptance.

Gabriel packed up the med kit and set it aside. "I'll send Muriel in to wrap your ribs," he said, heading for the open door. He paused in the threshold. "And, we'll have a memorial once everyone's rested up."

Castiel's throat tightened. Meaning once they knew whether they would be grieving Josiah along with Daniel and Edina.

Gabriel left, and Castiel leaned back against the sofa cushions to gaze up at the stars. The window in the pocket dimension was located somewhere above the atmosphere in orbit around the planet so that the view changed every night, cycling through the celestial sphere in its season. At the moment, it was centered on the same constellations Sam and Dean would be looking at from the continental United States.

Castiel wanted to check on them, tell them what happened, though he felt a pang in his heart at the thought of their disappointment. They would quickly push it aside, though, and soldier on; Castiel had witnessed their stubborn determination often enough. And he would soldier on as well.

But for now, he was exhausted. After a moment, Castiel reached for a book off the lower shelf, one whose spine was cracked and peeling from repeated use. He opened to the first page. He would take the time to rest and heal, for tomorrow would bring a new fight, as it inevitably always did.

Sam woke with a muffled groan, every single muscle feeling rigid and locked. Moving hurt, but so did lying still. He forced his eyes open, braced for finding himself in a bad situation requiring some fast thinking and desperate fighting. But what he found was the familiar rings and knots in the wood panels of his and Dean's cabin at Camp Chitaqua.

"Hey," his brother's soft voice broke through the lingering haze.

Sam squinted against the light of a lantern in the corner, but his vision was clearing, and he spotted Dean sitting in a wooden chair by Sam's bunk. "What happened?"

"We, uh, had to electrocute you."

Sam blinked dubiously. "What?"

Dean's jaw was tight and his hands were clasped tensely across his legs. "The Khan worm got to you. After you saved my life. Which, thanks."

Sam frowned and tried to remember. He could picture someone drawing a gun on Dean, and tackling them to the ground before they could shoot, as Dean was obviously okay. But everything after that was a blank.

He shot Dean a questioning look to fill him in, but his heart dropped into his stomach at the obvious distress his brother couldn't keep off his face.

"Dean," he gasped. "Did I hurt someone?" Oh god, no…

Dean straightened. "No. No, no one got hurt. Aside from you getting barbecued. You feel okay? All your brain cells intact?"

Sam pushed himself upright to prove he was fine, even though it hurt to do so. "I'm fine. Dean, what's wrong?"

His brother looked away, hands wringing.

"Just tell me."

If he hadn't hurt anyone, why was Dean so upset? Had the Khan worm gotten to someone else? Had it gotten away?

"It, uh, said some things, before we fried it," Dean started.

Okay, so it was dead. That was good. Sam waited, raising his eyebrows impatiently.

"It said it came here for you."

Sam quirked a confused look at his brother. "Me? Why?"

Dean's mouth was stern, but his eyes betrayed his fear. "I don't know."

Sam felt as though all the oxygen got sucked out of his lungs as the implication sank in.

"We figure it either heard the rumors about a hunter's camp and hitched a ride with Jo to get here," Dean went on. "Or when it infected her, it maybe realized she knew us and decided to hang around hoping we'd run into each other."

Sam vaguely nodded along, though his mind wasn't really processing that part. "Do…" He swallowed. "Do you think it has to do with…Yellow Eyes and- and the demon blood?"

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked and he looked away for a moment. They'd never learned why the Yellow-Eyed demon had snuck into Sam's nursery that night and fed him demon blood, only that it had changed their lives forever. They'd become hunters. Dad had turned into a single-minded general bent on one thing only—hunting down the demon that had killed their mom.

And John Winchester had braced himself—and Dean—for the possibility that Sam would become a monster they'd have to put down as well. There'd been times when Sam had been terrified by the psychic visions and inexplicable powers he'd developed for a time. But he hadn't had them in over a year. And Yellow Eyes was dead. So why would demons be after him now?

Dean turned back to him, lifting a staunch jaw. "Doesn't matter. I won't let those bastards take you."

Sam dropped his gaze. He believed his brother would do everything in his power to keep that promise. But deep down, he was afraid. Afraid of what this meant…afraid of past pain resurfacing…

Afraid of himself.

Dean patted his knee and stood up. "Come on, let's get some grub."

Sam rose to follow, stumbling as his legs needed a second to unlock their joints. He wordlessly followed his brother outside and toward the mess where voices could be heard inside. He cast his gaze around the perimeter, the gloaming twilight tranquil in its silence save for crickets beginning their nocturnal song. They were safe, for the time being; if the Khan worm was dead, it hadn't been able to tell anyone else where to find Sam Winchester.

But that didn't relieve his growing trepidation at the terrifying question: what would come next?

…

NEXT TIME

"I want to come," Sam spoke up.

"Uh, Sam, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go looking for the guys gunning for you," Dean said.

"Dean's right," Castiel put in. "And I'll be able to find information faster on my own."

Sam's jaw tightened. "This is my life, and I'm tired of feeling like some…unclean thing. A demon ruined our lives, Dean. And now they're coming back to use me as some sort of pawn in a war I don't even understand?" He shook his head, expression pinching with anguish. "I deserve to know why."