A Subtle Touch of Grace

[darth_firefly]

Title: A Subtle Touch of Grace
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/OFC
Warnings: See Master Post for full list of warnings.
Word Count: 11,213
Summary:There are many sayings for the wants of man: you can't always get what you want, you don't know what you want until it's gone, and most importantly, you don't know what you want until you have it. After averting the Apocalypse, a miracle in the form of an Angel-Human Hybrid and the reorganization of Heaven brings Dean and Castiel both closer together and farther apart than ever before. Dean lives with a broken heart and finds Faith in unexpected places, Sam finds the normal life he's always wanted while on a hunt of all places, and Castiel discovers that God was closer than everyone thought.

The author strongly advises having a box of tissues handy during the reading of this chapter.



Looking back, Dean decided that the first year was unquestionably the hardest. Each year had gotten progressively easier, not by much, but still, knowing that each year was one closer to the end was a rather morbid consolation. However by the ninth year, Dean had come to the point where he almost didn't think about how hard it was. Brooding over the time and the separation had only proved to make it worse. So, he had done the logical thing and found ways to distract himself. Some things remained constant, however; every Thanksgiving he went to Atchison, (Uncle Keith and Aunt Lydia now lived in the house) every Christmas he went to Blue Springs, and nearly every Sunday he went to Holy Spirit to listen to the choir sing. Dean figured that if Pastor Jim was still alive, the shock of him going to church on a regular basis would kill him.

Dean splashed some cold water on his face and took a look in the bathroom mirror. In ten years, his face hadn't changed all that much. The lines at the corners of his eyes had gotten a little deeper and his hair bore some faint streaks of gray, but other than that, he couldn't see any real differences. He let out a breath and headed downstairs. It was July and in a few hours, Sam, Gina and their two kids, Holly (age eight) and Daniel (age five) would be arriving for a stop in Sioux Falls on their way to a family vacation in the Black Hills. It was almost amusing, in a way. At one time, the Singer Salvage Yard had been a haven to hunters seeking shelter or looking for research. Now, still a sanctuary for hunters from time to time, the house was mainly a place to stay for various family members heading out west or north for vacations. The weapons cache in the house was still prevalent, however Dean always made sure any room where kids would be sleeping was weapon free. Everyone who visited followed the rule that they were to 'assume it's loaded' and not to touch any weapons they found. The only one who'd ever been enough of a wise-ass to not do so was his cousin Peter a few years ago. Thankfully, the only casualty of the incident had been a lamp. The lost Winchesters had slowly worked their way back into their father's family's lives, Dean taking to it a lot faster than Sam. That was probably due to the fact that Dean had always thrived on family and adding more to the flock just made him feel better.

Dean yawned as he came into the kitchen and started to make a pot of coffee. He had most of the day to fill before Sam and his family arrived and with the shopping and cleaning done, that didn't leave him much else to do except work on the car he was currently restoring; a fifty-three Cadillac that some Chicago big-wig had found rusting on a trip down to Mississippi. It was far from rusting now, most of the work was done, save for a lot of detailing. It still amazed Dean that even with the advancement of technology and how half the cars today ran on hydrogen fuel - there were still many who chose to drive the good, old fashioned, internal combustion, gasoline powered cars. Of course, after a revolution in Venezuela brought an end to the US embargo and the fact that America had finally started to become free from the use of foreign oil, a gallon of gas cost the same as it did when Dean was a kid. Two weeks ago, he'd filled up the Impala for twenty-five dollars. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised at the number of people driving gasoline-powered cars, when a full tank of hydrogen fuel cost closer to forty dollars.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose as he retrieved his favorite mug from the drying rack on the sink. It was shamrock green and were it not for the fact that it had been a gift, Dean probably wouldn't have it in his kitchen. Liam had found said mug one day at a garage sale they'd gone to the summer of the tornado. He'd liked it because it was green and he'd stated that, “Dad's got mugs of every color except this one.” For fifty cents, Dean figured it was probably one of the best things he'd ever been given. Technically he'd sort of bought the mug, since he had given Liam that dollar to spend however he wanted. True, a dollar wasn't a lot of money, however, Castiel had approved of the idea, and there wasn't much that Liam ever wanted, other than being allowed to draw one more picture before bedtime. The remaining fifty cents of that dollar had gone to the little girls who'd been selling lemonade and cookies at the sale. Those girls, Dean reflected, had probably just graduated from high school, or were about to.

He smiled to himself as he filled the cup and made his way over to the table. As much as he loved the peace and quiet of his mornings these days, the change over the next few days would be a good one. He just wished that Sam and Gina's work schedules would let them visit more often and that his job allowed him to go to Blue Springs. With the lack of a partner and being somewhat isolated, Dean couldn't leave the yard for an extended period of time, owing to theft. In a few weeks, he was going to leave the house in the capable hands of the Fitzpatrick family and finally take that trip to Alaska he'd been thinking about taking for a few years. He was going to drive all the way to Vancouver to get on the boat, because he still wasn't getting on an airplane. Sam could make fun of him all he wanted, but Dean preferred to stay on the ground. When Sam learned the reason Dean was going now and not waiting a few more years, however, he might just offer to drive him all the way to Alaska.

*

Sam had once been told that your children will be ten times worse than what you were. He never believed that, or if he did, felt that it shouldn't be too hard. He figured Dean had been lying about what a pain in the ass he'd been, his big brother teasing him or something. That was until Holly Winchester reached the age of four and stopped making statements and started asking questions. At age eight, the girl (who'd been named after Audrey Hepburn's character in Breakfast at Tiffany's) had just about picked her dad and mom's brains with almost every subject that mattered to an eight year old. Gina's answer to the problem had been to teach the girl to read before she was five. Sam sometimes felt that only fueled the fire, however, a book would keep the girl silent for at least ten minutes.

Daniel (named after the late hunter who'd been in possession of the Colt or Gina's father, depending on who you asked) was picking up his sister's questioning behavior and then, in true cosmic payback form, was rough and tumble at the same time. He wasn't just 'all boy' as his gran often said. Sam knew that Daniel was figuring out how to do the 'all boy' stuff even better, which was the reason that Band-Aides were almost a constant on the shopping list. He was also very, very loud. His preschool teachers had called him hyperactive. Sam called it being a Winchester. Whereas his sister would be contented with reading, the boy was in constant motion, stopping only to sleep and eat. Sam was very grateful that the drive to Sioux Falls was only four hours and the one from there to the town of Nemo was six.

Sam's only real trouble with road trips, or any trip for that matter, was the difference in 'starting out early' according to him and according to Gina. Growing up the way he did, heading out early meant six o'clock. Gina didn't call that early, she called it ungodly early. Early, according to her, was that they got on the road by eight. He let out a yawn as he finished packing the luggage into the van. He had insisted that the suitcases at least be down and waiting to go into the car before bed last night. “Don't go near the street, Danny,” Sam said, not even turning as his youngest flew past him on his scooter. “And thank you for remembering your helmet.” Better to let the boy release some energy before being confined. He shut the cargo door and turned as the tow-haired boy turned at the end of the drive and headed back up towards him. “Is your sister up?”

Daniel dragged his foot along the pavement to slow himself down. “Yeah. She's watching that stupid horse movie again.”

Sam shook his head. “Your sister likes horse movies. I seem to recall a certain someone who requests we watch Cars 3 every time it's his turn to pick on family movie night.”

“Yeah, but Cars 3 is awesome dad!” Daniel grinned, showing the gap where his front teeth were missing. “Uncle D likes it.”

“Your uncle likes any movie made by Pixar.” Sam chuckled. “For the record, his favorite happens to be Monsters Inc.”

The door in the garage opened and Gina leaned outside. “Daniel Adam Winchester, get back in here and clean up your place at the table!”

Sam gave his son a hard look. “You forget to do something again?”

Daniel grinned sheepishly and ran inside, leaving his scooter lying on the drive. “Be right back, dad!”

Sam just shook his head and picked up the scooter and carried it to its place, next to the row of bikes and other outdoor toys filling a small area in the garage. He came into the kitchen where Daniel was cleaning up some spilled cereal. “You remember to make your bed too?”

“Daaad.” Daniel set his bowl next to the sink. “I'm not gonna sleep in it tonight!”

“Doesn't matter,” he replied. “You're supposed to make your bed every morning.”

“Holly hasn't made her bed yet!”

“That's because I'm still in my pajamas, stupid.” Holly came into the kitchen carrying an empty plate.

“Don't call your brother stupid.” Sam rubbed his temple. “Both of you go make your beds and get ready to go. Uncle Dean's expecting us by lunch time.”

“Yes, dad,” the two of them chorused and then ran to their rooms.

Sam put the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher as Gina came into the kitchen. “I think we may have to stop letting them have sugary breakfast cereal.”

Gina chuckled and stood on tiptoe to kiss her husband's cheek. “Then we'd never get them to eat their vegetables.” She went over to the coffeepot and refilled her mug. “You want any more?”

“No, thanks,” Sam replied. “You okay?”

“I always worry something is going to happen when we go up to your brother's house, that's all.”

“Gina, I talked to him last night. Almost every single gun is locked up in the basement.”

“See, you said every single...”

Sam set his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “My brother keeps the door to his room locked whenever he's not in it, you know that.”

“I still worry.” She settled in his arms. Gina was a full foot shorter than Sam, with dark brown hair that was just showing the faintest touches of gray. “Don't tell me you don't as well.”

“I do.” Sam hugged her. “Besides, Peter's an ass, you know that.”

She shook her head. “Still...”

Sam hugged her a little tighter. “I'll double check the kid's room when we get there, okay?”

“Okay.” She pulled away and headed out of the kitchen. “I'm almost finished getting things together. Did you remember to pack the scooters?”

“Crap, no,” Sam grinned. “I'll go do that.”

Gina glanced at her watch. “I'll have the kids bring their backpacks down in ten minutes and have the two of them ready to go in twenty.”

“Sounds good.” Sam checked his watch and then went into the garage to finish packing things in the car.

*

Holly liked going to her uncle's house, even if it was really old and it smelled funny. Dad said that the scent was Old Spice and whiskey, both having been spilled so many times in the house the scent was now ingrained into every room. She didn't mind the smell so much because there were lots of books, and even though dad wouldn't let her read any of them, someday she would, there were so many that if she borrowed a book one time they were there Uncle Dean wouldn't notice. Her home was pleasantly chaotic, as her mom called it. Uncle D's house was insanely clean. Or at least, it was when she was there. She'd asked her dad if his brother was OCD and while he assured her that he wasn't, Holly wasn't so sure. She leaned back in her seat, staring out the window, watching the Iowa cornfields give way to the occasional dairy farm as they raced up the highway. “Dad?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Sam caught his daughter's hazel eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Is Liam going to be there?” Holly always asked about the cousin almost no one in the family had met.

“No, Holly.” Sam turned his attention back to the road. “Liam hasn't been to see your uncle in a really long time.”

“See, it's been a long time. He should come for a visit.” It seemed perfectly logical to her. “He's almost fifteen, that's old enough to get on a plane and come all the way from Christchurch to see us.”

Sam sighed. “Holly.”

“Dad,” she replied in the exact same tone.

“Liam's probably afraid of flying,” Daniel interrupted, his eyes still focused on the game he was playing on his Leapster. “Just like Uncle D, Right, Dad?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Such a pity,” Gina said. She, of course, knew the truth about Liam. She knew about everything regarding the Winchesters. She'd sometimes asked herself why she didn't run when she learned it all, then she'd look at her two children and couldn't think of it being any other way. “Maybe someday he'll come for a visit.”

“It'd be nice.” Sam managed a smile. “I've not met Liam either.” He shook his head. “And on that note, the two of you are not to bring him up in front of your uncle. It upsets him.”

“Yes, dad.” Holly turned and returned her gaze out the window.

**

Castiel shoved another completed journal into place and let out a groan of relief. It had taken two years, but he'd made it through the battle of Gettysburg. He had honestly lost track of how many prayers had been I don't want to die, please God, don't let me die. He thought it might be in the upper millions by now. Said prayer might have been important at the time; however, by now all the men who had survived this war were long dead. Unfortunately, regulations were regulations, and he knew he'd be seeing that prayer a lot more before this project was over. He rubbed at his eyes and then stretched before rising to get the next set of bound folios. As he set them on the table, the door clicked open and he looked up, frowning. He wasn't due for another 'visit' for five years, as someone had checked up on him just a few weeks ago. A small, rosy cheeked fledgling looked into the room, frowning. Castiel guessed by human standards, she might be five or six. “May I help you, little one?”

“You're alone in here?” She was looking from right to left.

“Yes.” He titled his head to the side, frowning. “Are you lost?”

“No...don't think I am.” She leaned back into the corridor. “Unless I miscounted again.” She pursed her lips. “I told Colin this wasn't a good place to play hide and go seek.”

“I did hear someone run up the corridor a short while ago.” Castiel sat back in his chair. “Although I do not know who it was.”

The girl frowned, leaning into the room. “What in the world are you doing?” She seemed as awed by the size of the room as Castiel had first been.

“Filing prayers.”

“Sounds boring.” She offered him a smile. “I'm Erica. What's your name?”

“Castiel.” He didn't think the fledgling knew what he was doing, otherwise she never would have unlocked the door. That suddenly made something click in his brain. Fledglings were almost never let into this part of Heaven. Someone was testing him. “If you're looking for your way back to the nesting area, you need to go down the corridor that way.” He pointed with his right arm. “Until you pass nine halls crossing it. Turn left into the tenth hall and someone can help you find your way back home from there.”

“Oh. I need to find Colin. Can you come out and help me find him?”

The girl suddenly looked so small, so easy to just step around and... Castiel shook his head apologetically, regaining his senses. “I'm sorry, child I cannot help you. If Colin ran the rest of the way down this corridor, he will run into one of the libraries. One of the angels who work there will make sure he gets back to his parents.”

“Thanks.” She pulled the door shut and Castiel heard the lock click.

Sighing, the angel stood and went over to the worn CD player and pulled out the disc that had just finished playing and returned it to its case. He'd been right. The books had helped the passage of time. He'd also been right about the theme of the books he'd been given. Each set had been out to tell him something different, forming some larger puzzle he'd not quite figured out just yet. Castiel pulled his next selected book out and placed the disc in the player. He had to smile when the voice came on, for he recognized the speaker immediately as one of his favorites, a boy who died far too young, River Phoenix. “Different Seasons, by Stephen King. Book One - Apt Pupil.”

The angel smiled and unbound his folio and got back to work. He had survived ten years so far and he was sure he could survive another decade. He could survive another if he had to. He'd survive the full thirty if he had to. As much as he loved and missed Dean, he knew that the man would have to die for them to be together again. He couldn't bring himself to think about Dean dying. He shook his head to clear it and returned to his work, pulling a fresh journal towards him.

*

The house was so different now. Sam still expected Bobby to show up every time he visited, demanding to know what the hell happened to the place. Maybe it was the fact that the house stopped looking like a strong breeze would blow it over and now looked well maintained. The interior, however, hadn't changed all that much. Most of the furniture was the same, same old couch, same books, same table and chairs in the kitchen. The other change, of course, was Dean. There was something off about his brother; Sam could tell that just by looking. Maybe it was a summer cold or something; but Dean wasn't exactly Dean anymore. Either that or the two of them were just getting older. He'd last seen his brother back in May, when Dean had driven down to Missouri for Sam's birthday. Perhaps the biggest factor that something was up was when Sam opened the fridge and saw only the type of beer he and Gina drank, exactly one six pack of Budweiser Select bottles, and none of Dean's preferred beer of choice, Natural Light. There also wasn't any Coca-Cola in the fridge, only Diet Coke, which his brother detested. He knew Dean wouldn't go back on the hard liquor again. Dean hadn't drunk anything stronger than champagne since he learned about Liam. He opened one of the bottles of beer and stepped into the library, observing his brother who was looking over some printouts. “Working a case?”

“Something like that.” Dean sighed and looked up. “Dude, why didn't you tell me Holly turned into the Spanish Inquisition?”

“Dean, she's always been like that.” He sat down on the couch, grinning. “She just hasn't had the opportunity to pick your brain for a few months, so she's taking advantage.”

Dean chuckled and took a drink from his mug. “Well, at least her questions are a little easier to answer than the ones you used to ask.” He coughed.

Sam made a face and took a swig from his bottle. “You don't want one?” He indicated the beer.

“No thanks, Sam.” He set his mug down. “I'm just going to come out and say this. I haven't been feeling too hot for the past few weeks.”

“You sort of look it.” He flinched at the look his brother gave him. “What is it?”

“Well, first I thought it was just a cold or something, but it wasn't the usual congestion, pass me the Nyquill sort of cold. When I couldn't shake it after a month, thought I better get things checked, just in case, you know?”

“Oh shit, Dean.” Sam stood up. “What is it?”

“It's nothing, Sam. Nothing I can't handle.” He took a sip of tea from his mug. “Just sit down, I'll tell you what I was told, okay?”

Sam set his bottle down, frowning. “Cancer?” He was guessing at this point.

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. It's pretty minor, given how far cancer treatment has come in the last ten years. I'll go on my trip, come back, have chemotherapy and with a little luck, be in remission by my birthday in January.”

“It's still cancer Dean. That's still serious!”

“I know it's serious, Sam.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “I'm lucky they caught it this early. It's stage one, so it's not like it's going to kill me by Christmas.”

“So! You could still die from it!” Sam stood up and started to pace across the room.

“Yeah, Sam. It's going to kill me. In twenty fucking years it's going to kill me. Hell, in twenty years, there will probably be a cure for the damn thing, so I could live another thirty after that. However, I've never really set my sights on celebrating my hundredth birthday.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair, stunned. “How can you be so...so - ”

“Sam, calm down. I'm going to be fine. Chemotherapy can't be any worse than some of the other shit I've been through.” Dean picked up his mug again. “'Sides, like I said, they caught it early. The earlier they find it, the better your odds.”

Sam slumped down on the couch. “Shit, Dean - you're going to have to - I'll have to make some arrangements.”

“Don't start with that. Believe it or not Sam, your big brother actually has friends here in Sioux Falls.”

“They're not family.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Still, I don't want you being alone during a time like this.”

“All I'll need is for someone to drive me to and from the hospital and I've already talked to Pastor Barrie down at Holy Spirit. There's a whole bunch of kids who need service hours to graduate high school who sign up for this sort of thing. It won't be the first or the last time I've had to take care of myself when I'm sick.”

“Dean, you're not a Catholic.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious, I'm aware that I'm not Catholic. I just happen to go to that church every time I know the choir's going to be singing.”

“Isn't that...”

“Don't say it's abusing a system, Sam. We've done way, way worse than bumming rides off kids doing a good deed.” Dean smiled wanly and took another sip of tea.

“So that's why you're not drinking soda or alcohol.” Sam stared at his own brown bottle on the table as if it was something lethal.

“Doctor said changing my diet was one of the best ways to fight this thing. Figured I could cut soda, liquor, and try to cut the grease down. Though that's proving a little harder than I thought it would be.”

“You still get to eat pie?” Sam managed a small smile.

“I'll have you know that certain types of pie count as a serving of fruit.” Dean grinned and drained the last of his tea. “And given the size I like my slices, they count as two.”

*

Sam told Gina about Dean the same night he found out. However, he didn't want the kids to know, not yet. Dean had told him that he had twenty years, if the treatment went well. In twenty years, both of his kids would be adults and could have families of their own. If that wasn't a thought to keep Sam up, he didn't know what was. He also wasn't surprised that Dean had been rather light about the whole thing. Dean's nature was always to roll with the punches and get up and recover. However, Sam knew he'd have to tell Holly and Daniel something because, odds were, Dean would look even more different come November. What he also hated was the fact that Dean was just going into this alone. It had been a weight on him all during the trip and he'd done his best to hide it from his kids. However, in his worry he forgot about the fact that he had one of the most observant kids who had ever lived.

“Dad?” Holly came out onto the porch of the cabin they were renting. Mom was inside packing and Danny was watching a movie.

Sam turned. “Yeah, Hols?”

The blond haired girl came over and hugged her dad around his waist and looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong. Why would you think that?” Sam knew the look his daughter was giving him. It was the same look he used to give his dad and brother when he knew they were lying.

“Cause you've been kinda grumpy lately. Danny and I aren't arguing in the car and we haven't gotten lost, so what's the matter?”

Sam sighed and led the girl over to the porch swing and sat the two of them down. “If I tell you this, you have to promise you won't tell your brother. I don't want him having to know before he needs to, okay?”

Holly bit her lip. “Mom's not pregnant again, is she?”

“No, no it's not that.” Sam almost laughed. “Though given what it is, I almost wish it was that.” He sighed. “Your Uncle Dean is sick.”

“He didn't look sick.” She frowned. “He didn't act sick either.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. However, he is. You remember when Aunt Jet died?”

“She had cancer.” Holly's hazel eyes suddenly filled with panic. “Is Uncle Dean gonna...”

“No,” Sam said in a firm voice. “Uncle Dean's going to be fine. See, there's lots of types of cancer. The kind Aunt Jet had, it's almost impossible to detect until it's too late. She had pancreatic cancer. They found Uncle Dean's cancer early enough that they can treat it and make him better. His kind is in his blood, so it wasn't as hard to find.”

“Are we going to have to move to Sioux Falls?” Holly rubbed her nose, sniffling.

“No, sweetie. We're going to stay in Blue Springs.” He kicked at the ground with his foot to set the swing in motion.

“Who's going to take care of Uncle Dean while he's sick?” She sniffled. “He doesn't have anyone living with him.”

“He's got friends, Hols. I'm also going to go up and see him whenever I can. So you're going to have to help your mom out, okay?”

“I already do, dad.” She sounded a little indignant.

“More than you already do, sweet pea. I know you're a helpful kid. It's going to be tough, but in the end, everything is going to be just fine.” Sam hugged her a little tighter.

Holly rubbed her nose, frowning. “Is Liam going to come and see his dad?”

“I - I don't know, baby - ” Sam let his gaze drift upward, as if expecting to see either Castiel or some other angel watching them from the roof of the porch. “I'd like to think he will.”

**

Dean returned from his first real vacation in forever feeling reinvigorated. The diet the oncologist had put him on before he left had actually been easy to follow, owing to the massive amounts of seafood that had been served on board the ship. Even with the medicine he'd had to take, which basically had kept him from doing any type of swimming or walking for extended periods of time, he'd still managed to have an amazing time. He'd first heard of how fantastic the trip was from Uncle Keith, who had taken the trip with Aunt Lydia for their fortieth wedding anniversary. What he wasn't looking forward to however, were the rounds of chemotherapy that were waiting for him upon his return. He hadn't been able to drive the Impala to Vancouver, as he had hoped. Instead, he'd taken a train and looking back on the whole journey, had actually liked not having to worry about a motel for the night or refueling the car. The only bad part about the whole trip had, of course, been that he'd not been on the trip with Castiel.

He groaned softly and titled his head up towards the shower spray, relishing the warmth spreading over him. He didn't know when he'd get another chance to do this and not feel tired, or dizzy or whatever the fuck the chemotherapy was going to do to him, because he'd seen what it'd done to others. Aunt Jet had lost pounds of weight and her vigor had been scrubbed out like a stain. Dean kept telling himself that he could beat this illness, he'd get better and then things would get back to normal. He still had a lot of work to do. Like teaching Holly and Danny how to drive and do minor repairs to cars. Hell, he had to find someone to man the great research empire Bobby had left him. True, most hunts these days were nothing more than vengeful spirits and the occasional vampire, but still. He shut the water off with a sigh and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

In his absence from the house in the salvage yard, Aunt Lydia and Dean's friend Sally had taken it upon themselves to make the place spotless and almost entirely dust free so that when he returned home from his first round of chemo, he wouldn't have to worry about infection too much. A couple night's stay at the hospital was minor compared to what he'd had in the past, of course; those times he'd been so full of pain killers or completely out of it, he hadn't been to aware of the time. He finished getting dressed, almost laughing when he found that somehow, Sam had managed to slip that old hoodie of his - the one that Gina had been screaming at him to get rid of for years - into Dean's closet. He tucked the garment into his bag along with a few clean pairs of socks. It wasn't like he needed to take much with him and he double checked everything as he heard a car pull up in front of the house. He looked out the window and saw a scrawny teenage boy with glasses get out of the driver's side and a woman Dean guessed was the boy's mother roll down the window and say something to him: the first in a string of teenagers looking to earn some service hours. He grasped the handles of his bag a little tighter and headed downstairs just as the doorbell rang.

*

Liam adjusted his grasp on the stack of scrolls he was carrying. He was technically considered a page, but he was starting to think that was just a shorter way of saying errand boy. His angelic age was approaching two hundred, and while he was mostly through puberty, given his job, he had to spend most of his time in standard form, rather than true form. This made flying next to impossible at times. He paused in one of the hallways, rummaging through the large bag slung around his shoulder. He tucked one more scroll into the bag and found the four he had to deliver before starting back up the hallway. He kept close to the wall, out of the way of the angels who outranked him in more ways than one. This wasn't even his route; however, the usual runner had a special assignment on Earth, namely going to tap the next prophet and well, who was Liam to argue?

The corridor he turned off into wasn't as crowded as the first and he strode purposefully toward his destination. He hadn't gone more than five steps when a sharp pain laced through his mind, driving him to his knees. He fumbled for the dropped scrolls as the pain became a pronounced scream. He couldn't pin its source or cause, he could only press his hands against his temples as the long, horrid sound continued and then, as quickly as it came, ended like a candle being snuffed out.

“Liam?” A hand shook him by the shoulder and he looked up.

“Rachel?” He looked up into the older angel's face as she handed him several of his scattered materials.

“Are you okay?” She helped him stand, her face concerned.

“I - I think so.” He rubbed the side of his head again, frowning. “What - Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” She frowned at him.

“That scream. Didn't you hear that scream?” Liam was confused as he shifted the scrolls.

“No, I didn't.” The older angel shook her head. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yeah.” He smoothed back his hair. “Just fine. Thank you for your help.”

“Not a problem.” She nodded and went back up the hallway as Liam turned and went down it, the sound of the scream still ringing faintly in his ears.

*

Castiel was halfway into the siege of Vicksburg when the scream hit him. What started off as a long indistinguishable howl, the noise grew more and more pronounced and drove the angel to the floor and caused him to curl up in a fetal position as his body seized him with total pain. He grasped the table leg tightly, trying to focus, trying to find the source and then, in a flash of clarity, he recognized the voice that was pounding his brain.

It was Dean's.

It wasn't a sound of pain-pain, it was fear. Something, something horrible was happening to Dean and he couldn't help him. Castiel turned over on the floor, reaching out the best he could with his grace, trying to find the cause, find the source. Unfortunately making out Dean's location was like trying to see the bottom of a lake many fathoms deep. He stretched his hand out, the same hand he had once used to grasp the man from the depths of Hell, and that was when his mind cleared a little and he realized what was making Dean's soul scream in pure agony. Whatever was happening to Dean, it was making him think of Hell, and quite vividly. Now the angel felt himself floundering. The man needed his help. Someone's help.

He could make out the vague sense of a room filled with people. It was murky, and in that room, he could see some bright spots. The souls of other people in the room. Most seemed distracted and unaffected by the man lying on one of the beds. Castiel couldn't sweep his hand out to touch Dean, to bring him comfort - there was a wall between them that allowed him to look, but not touch. He had to find someone. Where is Sam? Why isn't Sam there? His grace swept outwards again and then it almost seemed to get caught on something. Someone could tell he was there - or that something was there - and that he was trying to help the man lying supine on a bed looking deathly pale. He gently nudged against the soul. It was the youngest person in the room - a nine year old girl.

Please. Please. Castiel didn't know how or what else to say. He knew that he this wasn't forbidden, this was something that couldn't be prevented. Dean's soul had screamed for him and his grace, bound to him, had naturally reacted. It was like breathing. Please. He nudged the girl's soul again. Please. He felt the girl slowly turn in response to his plea and then, slowly, agonizingly so, the panic and fear in Dean began to abate.

Thank you. Castiel was able to manage before he came back to himself, lying on the cool marble floor of his prison, the echo of Dean's cry still clinging desperately to him. When he could focus a little more clearly, he could make out a glass sitting on the table above him filled with a bright amber liquid. Someone had come into the room and left him a glass full of nectar and offered no comfort otherwise. Castiel turned his gaze back to the floor and tried to relax a little more before attempting to rise from his prone position. “What is happening to you, Dean?”

*

“The first one's always the worst.” The girl's voice was thin but it made Dean open his eyes.

“Huh?” He blinked once or twice at the girl in pale pink scrubs whose head was covered by a brightly colored bandanna.

“The first time they do that... the lumbar puncture thing. The first one's always the worst.” She shot a look at the nurse behind Dean, who was slowly drawing fluid from his spine with a needle that would make a whale cry uncle.

“Take your word for it.” He gave the girl a tiny smile and hissed in pain.

“Almost done here, Mr. Winchester,” the nurse said. “How are you feeling today, Izzy?”

“My breakfast stayed down, Leslie,” the girl answered, addressing the woman by her first name. “Any day that happens is a good day.” The girl turned her attention back to Dean. “Leslie is really nice.” She beamed at him. “She's always got Life Savers in her pockets.”

Dean let out another breath as he felt the small pinch of the needle being removed. It reminded him of the more unusual tortures Alistair had put him through in Hell. He just hoped that would be his only flashback. The girl sitting in the chair next to the bed couldn't be much older than Holly. She was sallow faced but smiling. A full IV bag of what Dean guessed was blood or plasma or something hung from a pole, and the tube leading from the bag was connected to the girl's arm. “Aren't you a little young to be hanging out on in this ward by yourself?”

“I'm old hat around here, new boy.” She grinned, showing a couple of missing teeth. “I just came down for my weekly transfusion and then they'll cart me back up to the peds ward.”

“Now I'm going to need you to lie here just like this for a few hours, Mr. Winchester.” The nurse adjusted the blanket over Dean, setting a pillow behind his back. “We'll come and check on you in a little bit.”

“Thanks.” His eyes followed the nurse out of the room and then returned to the girl. “Parents working?”

“Yeah.” Izzy shifted in her chair. “I'm climbing my way up from round four of chemo... again.”

“Again?” Dean was incredulous. This girl was way too young to have been through chemo twice.

“I was a toddler the first time.” She sighed. “The great thing is, my tests are all coming back with positive news, so with a lot of luck, I'll get to go home by Halloween.”

“How old are you?”

“I'm nine. I'll be ten in January.”

Dean was finding the conversation welcome. It kept his mind from going back into the nightmare of Hell. “You know how old I'm going to be in January?”

“Um...” She studied him for a moment. “Thirty-five?”

He let out a chuckle that turned to a cough. “No, I'll be forty-six.”

“That's how old my dad is!” Izzy gave him a bright smile. “He's gonna come by later and we're going to have lunch.” She paused. “Is your dad going to come and see you?”

“No, he's not.” Dean closed his eyes tiredly. “My mom and dad are... well - ”

“It's okay, you can say the word dead to me. I know how it works.”

He gave her a wary look. “Are you always this cocky, kid?”

“When I don't need my pain meds, yes. And my name's Izzy not kid.”

“All right then, Izzy, you can keep talking.” He let out a breath. “Though I can't promise I'll stay awake.”

“That's okay.” The girl smiled knowingly. “Sleep is a good thing.”

Dean half closed his eyes. “Izzy, huh? Is that short for Elizabeth or Isabelle?”

“You were close, it's Isabella. My mom always says that when I was a baby, she had to keep telling people I was named after my grandmother and not some book character named Bella Swan. Whoever the heck that is.” She rubbed the arm attached to the IV. “Do I call you Mr. Winchester like Leslie does?”

“No, you can call me Dean.” He was starting to feel that sleep was a better and better idea.

**

The nectar helped. Castiel had managed to pull himself up to a sit and drink from the glass after what he guessed might have been a few hours. He drank slowly, eying the pitcher that had also been left on the table. He figured that someone predicted whatever happened might happen again and it would save them a trip. Castiel wasn't worried about the liquid going bad or evaporating. The nectar from the Garden was one of the most potent substances known to angels and while it provided sustenance for fledglings, for older angels it was considered a cross between medicine and comfort food. He shakily changed to a new book in the player and started going through the papers he'd been looking at before the attack.

“Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. Read for you by Emily Bronte.”

Castiel smiled faintly as he got back to work. He remembered this story from his last trip to Earth. He'd seen the book sitting on Dean's nightstand. He had a feeling that the former hunter had been reading it for the zombies, rather than the supposed love story it was based on.

**

Sam pulled into the salvage yard two weeks before Halloween, hating the fact that it'd taken him this long to get away. First things got crazy at work, then it was back to school time and before he knew it, the calendar flipped over to October and Sam realized he needed to tell his boss to eat shit and take the time off he was due. Apparently, the boss had been woefully unobservant and had failed to notice that one of his best employees was going through hell; as soon as he found out, the man went a hundred and eighty degrees from grade-a asshole to 'let me kiss your ass anyway I can'. It was already cold in South Dakota, reminding Sam that winter showed up here a month, sometimes two, before it did in Missouri. He actually would have come sooner, but unfortunately when both Holly and Danny came down with their usual change of season colds, he'd been forced to wait to get a clean bill of health before traveling. Even if he wasn't sick, the fact that he was a carrier and was going into a house whose sole occupant had a weakened immune system was out of the question. Minor cancer or not, Dean couldn't afford to get sick.

He let himself into the house, shutting the door behind him. “Dean? You awake?”

“In the library, Sammy.” Dean called, coughing once.

Sam rounded the corner and did a double take. The man sitting in the easy chair didn't resemble his brother very much. His hair was gone, his head covered with a dark blue beanie hat that had skulls and crossbones knitted in the pattern, and he looked at least fifty pounds lighter. A blanket was covering his legs and just looking at the table next to the chair Sam couldn't fathom how his brother managed to take that many pills in just one day. “Hey.” He came over and gave him a hug, noting that there wasn't much strength in the one he got from his brother in return. “How you feeling today?”

“Like shit.” Dean put the TV on mute as Sam sat down on the couch, putting his bag down as well. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad.” Sam couldn't help cataloging all the changes he saw in his brother. It was like looking at half a Dean at this point. “There's no snow in the forecast, is there?”

“Not until next week.” Dean coughed again and shifted in his chair. “It looks worse than it is, Sam.” He knew what his brother was thinking. “Doc's says I'm doing a good job of kicking this thing's ass.”

“That's great.” Sam smiled. “Guess you're going to need someone to come up and get you for Thanksgiving?”

“If I'm feeling up to traveling that week, yeah.” Dean picked up his water glass and took a long drink. “Hate not being able to drive.”

“I know you do.” Sam opened his bag and drew out two sheets of paper. “The kids sent you these.”

Dean took the offered papers and smiled. “See Danny's hit the superhero phase.” He looked up from the drawing of what he guessed was Superman, Batman and Wolverine all waving with 'Get Well Soon Uncle D' scrawled across the top in crayon.

“Yeah.” Sam chuckled. “The two of them miss you.”

“Miss 'em too.” He turned Daniel's art over to look at Holly's picture of a bunch of teddy bears and flowers. “Hols learned cursive, huh?”

Sam grinned. “She's really proud of that. She keeps asking when you're coming to visit.”

“Soon as I'm up to it and the doctors say I can.” Dean set the pictures down on the coffee table. “Have to put those up later.”

“You think you'll be up to coming down to Blue Springs for Christmas?” Sam stood up, took Dean's empty water glass into the kitchen and refilled it.

“Thanks.” He took the glass from his brother and drank. “I'm not sure. If I'm well enough, they're going to administer round four of chemo at the start of December, and given that I just finished round two and I feel shredded, I've no idea if I can make it.”

Sam leaned against his knees, thinking. “I don't want you spending the holiday alone.”

“You're not leaving Gina and the kids, Sammy, so don't even think about it.”

“I was thinking maybe we could come up here,” he rubbed his chin, “Weather permitting and all.”

“Sam, I could still be in the hospital come Christmas. I don't want you...”

“Oh, shut up Dean! This isn't about what's best for me and my family, it's about what's best for you.”

“Sam...” Dean didn't have the strength to put up much of an argument, but he was going to try.

“You spent years taking care of me, Dean. It's time I took care of you for a while. You may not like it, but you're stuck with me.” He let out a breath. “Jerk.”

Dean snorted. “Bitch.” He took another sip of water. “Reminds me. Doctors say that once I'm in remission, since I live alone, I'm going to have to get a service dog, in case anything happens.”

“Really?” Sam went into the kitchen and got his own glass of water. “Don't think I can picture you letting a dog into this house.”

“I let you in.” Dean chuckled, a grin forming on his pallid face. “And I don't even make you wipe your feet.”

*

Sam leaned against the threshold of the first floor bedroom, which, until recently, had been used for storage. With Dean was lying down and sleeping Sam could finally get a good look at just how sick his big brother had gotten. If he had any fat, it was long gone and so was most of his muscle. His freckles stood out in sharp contrast on his face and Sam had to admit that if it wasn't so serious, his brother would look comical with no eyebrows. There were only a few things that Dean insisted he wanted in the room he was now going to have to sleep in until he was well. Two framed puzzles, one of Mount Hood and the other of Notre Dame Cathedral adorned one wall; on another wall were three framed pictures that Sam knew Liam had drawn. On the bedside table were two thick scrapbooks stuffed with even more artwork done by a child who had not been in this house in over ten years.

Sam sighed softly and went back to the library, automatically cleaning things up like he would at any other time. He also knew the only reason that Dean didn't have a nurse living with him was because there was too much hidden in the house and too much that required explanation. He did the laundry and, after checking the list on the fridge, tried to think of something he could cook for dinner, if his brother felt up to eating. Not for the first time since this started, Sam's eyes drifted heaven-ward and silently asked why the fuck Castiel couldn't get a temporary pass from Heaven's prison and come down and at least get to visit his brother.

**

Dean kept track of time in the hospital by the patterns of the nurses' scrubs. When he'd arrived for round three of chemotherapy, the scrubs tended to have harvest-like items such as cornucopias. Now they'd turned from Thanksgiving to winter holiday themes. Candy canes and snowflakes seemed to be the big favorite, along with Christmas Trees and bells. There was even one nurse who had a Hanukkah pattern with Stars of David and menorahs. Round four of chemo swiftly followed round three, taking advantage of the fact that for once, infections had staved off and Dean hadn't needed to wait and recuperate from some stupid cold turned pneumonia before starting. Not getting out of Sioux Falls for Thanksgiving had sucked. The stupid 'avoid germs' rule kept coming along and fucking up the holiday plans.

Now it was Christmas Eve and he was stuck in the hospital. Round four had taken a lot more out of Dean than he thought it would. He'd been too sick and too tired to put up an argument with Sam about coming up to Sioux Falls for the holiday. He wasn't even home and really, he thought it was unfair to the kids. Sam, being Sam, told Dean to shut the hell up and that there was no way of getting out of it. He was feeling somewhat better, and the doctors were talking of letting him go in the first week of January.

“Knock knock.” Sam stuck his head into Dean's room. “Dean, you awake?”

“Yeah.” He looked wanly up from his dinner. “Don't make me finish this stuff, Sam. It tastes terrible.”

Sam set the bag he was carrying down on the foot of the bed and took a look at what was on his brother's tray. “What did they do to those potatoes?”

“Those aren't potatoes, I don't think they ever were potatoes, even if that's what they're calling them.” Dean poked his food one more time and set his fork down. “What are you doing here anyway? Thought I told you to stay at the house and do, I dunno, Christmas stuff.”

Sam sat down and gave his brother a small grin. “Now don't start with that, young man. Gina and the kids are having a Pixar Marathon as we speak. I'm willing to bet Danny will be out by the middle of Toy Story and Holly will be out by the end of Monsters Inc.”

“You find the ornaments for the tree?” Dean settled against his pillows, too tired to sit up for much longer.

“Yeah. Right where you said they were.” He glanced at his watch. “You never told me you decorated a tree every year.”

“Hey, just because I live alone doesn't mean I don't like things to look festive this time of the year.” He glanced down at the bag and then at his brother. “You expecting something?”

“As a matter of fact - ” Sam stood and took the tray off of the stand and put it on the table next to the chair, “I am.” He opened the bag and pulled out his laptop. “You know, the Internet has come a very long way in the last ten years, Dean.”

“I know that, Sammy. What's this?” He watched as his brother set the laptop on the tray and after a few moments, found himself watching crowds file in at Holy Spirit Church. “What'd you do?”

“Talked to Pastor Barrie. Did you know it's insanely easy to live stream performances these days?” Sam grinned as he adjusted the volume, and a moment later, saw a spark of joy in his brother's green eyes as they heard the choir start their pre-service concert with 'It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.'

“That's - that's great, Sammy.” Dean closed his eyes, unable to keep the tears from forming. “That's perfect, actually.”

“Well, I know how you've been saying you hate missing going to hear the choir sing.” Sam gently clasped his brother's shoulder. “I think you've been to church more in the past ten years then dad and I have been our whole lives combined. Still can't get over you going in the first place.”

Dean set a hand on the tray, taking a few shallow breaths. “I go to listen to the choir, Sammy, I told you that.”

“Still, you go.” Sam brushed his brother's forehead with his thumb. “And here I thought you'd listen to nothing except mullet rock.”

Dean slowly opened his eyes, now wet with tears. “Liam likes the choir music.” He choked a little on his son's name. “Every time I go... just for an hour... it's like spending time with him again.”

Sam slid onto the bed and pulled his brother into a hug as he began to cry. It pained and scared him to see his big brother look like this. It was more than just the physical pain that was plaguing him, after ten long years, the separation had finally managed to work its way into Dean's armor and he was starting to crack.

Dean whimpered as his body was wracked with a sob. “One night's all I need, Sammy. Why can't I have just one night?”

Sam held his brother as tight as he dared; Dean was so thin, he was scared he would accidentally snap a bone. He rested his head against his brother's, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I don't know, Dean. I really don't know.”

**

Liam tried to think what he could have done to receive a summons from Gabriel. He was used to being called in by his superiors, which was almost a daily occurrence. Getting called in by the high commander of your legion? Not so much. He hadn't been to see Gabriel since shortly after the archangel's return when he'd insisted on talking to all the new angels in the group. He shifted nervously in his seat as he watched Gabriel look over a document, a frown marring his face.

“I'd forgotten how much damn paperwork there was to do up here.” Gabriel shook his head and reached into the large dish of brightly colored candy that was sitting in the middle of his desk. “You like chocolate?”

“I - I guess so.” Liam couldn't remember if he'd ever had chocolate.

“Try some.” Gabriel nudged the bowl towards him.

The younger angel reached out and took a small piece that was a lurid shade of blue. He put it in his mouth, frowning at the taste. There was something more than chocolate in the candy, something he couldn't quite place.

“Peanut butter, kiddo.” Gabriel smiled, folding his arms and looking over at Liam. “Only time I like it is when it's with chocolate.”

“Oh.” Liam swallowed. “It's - not bad.”

“Acquired taste, to be certain.” Gabriel leaned back in his seat, observing the young angel on the other side of the desk. Liam was one of twenty-four Nephilim currently calling Heaven home. He and the others were so far removed from the first ones that it was hard to believe they were, more or less, the same sort of creatures. Growing up in Heaven had given them the balance and the environment they needed. They could never have thrived on Earth. The one he was studying, however, interested him more than all the others. The eyes were the dead giveaway to him. He'd know those green eyes anywhere. He wasn't sure how Dean Winchester and Castiel got together officially - truth be told, he didn't want to know. He just knew they had. “You haven't had any more panic attacks like you did several weeks ago, have you?”

“No sir.” Liam replied stiffly. His head had hurt from time to time, however it hadn't interfered with his work.

“Good, that's good.” Gabriel shifted some papers on his desk. “I see that you've shown remarkable fighting skills in your garrison. You know that's not a big priority for this legion, yes?”

“Yes, sir, I am aware of that.” Liam swallowed nervously. “I just thought...”

“Oh, there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all.” Gabriel sighed. “Do you know how old you are in human years?”

He thought for a moment. “Somewhere between fifteen and sixteen years, I think. I've not seen an earthly calendar lately.”

“Today...” Gabriel leaned over on his desk to pick up a small object Liam couldn't identify, “is January twenty-fourth, two thousand twenty five.” He set the calendar back down, picked up the candy bowl and leaned back in his chair. “I've been talking it over with Jeremiah and Joshua, and we feel the time has come for us to start a more - intense study of mankind.” Gabriel dug through the candy until he found a yellow piece and tossed it into his mouth. “We can't begin to help man until we better understand him.”

Liam nodded slightly. “Books can only tell us so much.”

“Figured you were a reader. You have that look about you.” The archangel munched on another piece of candy. “Michael and I have discussed it and we are currently working out a way to... how shall I put this?” He tapped the side of the bowl. “Form a lesson plan to educate a select group of angels to spend time on Earth and report back the findings.”

“I see.” Liam frowned. “How can I help with that, sir?”

“Since Raphael's currently under guard for - well, various reasons - the temporary leader of his group, Daphne, has suggested that we form teams of three, one from each legion. You're one of the first ones I've selected from ours.”

The young angel's eyes widened in surprise. “Are - are you sure?”

“Positive. I know from your superiors that you are hard working, diligent, mostly obedient, have a decent amount of curiosity - something that will be beneficial in this task and according to many others, have the best sense of humor in your garrison.”

Liam didn't quite know how to take the complement. “The elephant joke wasn't that funny. Besides, I didn't even make it up.”

“It was still clever.” Gabriel sat up and set the candy bowl down closer to the lesser angel. “Preparing for this is going to take a lot of planning and a lot of studying.” He sorted through some papers and handed Liam one. “You still have to do the rest of your expected work until we start the intense training.”

Liam took the paper and frowned at the list. “What is this?”

“Those are the books that Michael, Daphne and I all feel need to be read by the angels chosen for this group. We're still working on the rest of the requirements; music that you'll need to listen to, movies you'll have to watch, things like that. That list is also liable to change at any time, so don't slack off on me, okay kiddo?”

“Yes, sir.” Liam tucked the sheet of paper into his pocket. “I understand.”

“Have another piece of candy and be off. I'm sure you have plenty of things to do.” Gabriel gave the boy an encouraging smile as he reached into the bowl and selected a candy that was bright red.

Liam placed the sweet in his mouth and the taste of cinnamon nearly overwhelmed him. “That's good.” He said, gasping a little. “What in...” He caught another taste and realized why the candy was so hot. “Ghost chili pepper?”

“Good, yes?” Gabriel was grinning.

“Perfect.” Liam stood up and walked out of the archangel's office, enjoying the sweet despite its fiery flavor.

**

Remission was a weird word, in Dean's opinion. He wasn't suffering from his disease but yet he was still sick. He knew that what he had wasn't curable; chemo had just added a few more years to his life. The form of cancer he'd contracted had left him with a weakened immune system and he was also left vulnerable to other forms of cancer as well. So he'd have to stay on his diet regimen, take good care of himself and, most importantly, not procrastinate if he thought something might be wrong. His appetite had returned and he was able to regain most but not all of the weight chemo had drained from him. He figured it was a very good thing he'd retired from hunting, because he knew that he would never get back into the physical shape he'd been in a year ago. He was bothered by the fact he still moved slowly from time to time (weather was a big factor there). Though he would have to say that more than anything, it was wonderful to be home.

The service dog he'd been required to get came in the form of a two year old German Shepherd named Scully. It was more due to his limited mobility that the doctors had insisted he get the dog, and quite frankly, he found the dog's company more of a help than any actual work she did. She still did work, mainly helping Dean up and down the stairs, but most of the time, she was the constant companion the former hunter didn't realize he'd needed.

Dean let out a low grunt as glared at the work to be done on the engine of the seventy-five Impala he was currently restoring. The thing wasn't a total mess, but unfortunately, with the way he was moving, it'd still take him a few months to restore it, whereas a year ago, it'd have taken him just a couple of weeks. The dog was lying a few feet away, watching him carefully. “Don't suppose you know anything about engines, do you?” The dog merely blinked, resting her head on her front paws. “Hand me that wrench over there.” He pointed to the tool he needed.

Scully stood up and padded over to the toolbox, picked up the requested item and brought it to Dean, pulling herself up by the car's bumper so Dean wouldn't have to bend so far.

Dean took the tool and gave the dog a rub behind the ears. “Thank you.” He pushed gently on her back. “Down.” The dog promptly resumed her seat on the blanket she'd been resting on. “You keep this good work up girl, I'll put your name on the business instead of mine.”

Chapter Seven