Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cas, Dean needs our help. I trust you.
—Sam to Lucifer, "The Vessel"

=== 1.1 - Vessel ===

There's no singularly correct place to shelve a hunter's journal in a library. They are, in part, auto-biographial accounts, reference texts of lore and legend, and travel guides for those endeavoring to crisscross the continental United States on pool-winnings and gumption.

A lot of what you run into as a hunter is like that. Researching demons, monsters, witches, angels... that information is scattered across every genre and periodization of history. Take for instance, ghosts. Many myths, folklore traditions, and religions mention ghosts, referring to them by names including gods, demi-gods, ancestral spirits, and souls of the dead who have unfinished business. Sleepy Hollow is a ghost story, but technically so is A Christmas Carol, Hamlet, and the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Not that there's anything wrong for something to not cleanly fit into a system of categorization, but spend enough of your life in libraries, and inevitably that becomes one of your many recurrent intrusive thoughts.

Here's where this one starts, too. In a library of all places, at the moment Lucifer's hand (well, Cas's hand) sinks into Sam's chest, groping at the fluttering mess of his soul.

Through the haze of obliterating pain, Sam realizes this means... this means... He's going to die. And when he dies, Dean will be stranded in the past and Cas trapped as Lucifer's meatsuit.

Suddenly, Lucifer's expression changes to something almost endearing, like looking down at a beloved pet. Then Lucifer wrenches down his fingers on a segment of Sam's soul and jerks it free of his body. And Sam—

=== 1.2 - Reboot ===

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

A stutter, like a tape struggling to get up to speed. It arrives with a primitive and overwhelming urge to wakeup wakeup WAKEUP WAKEUP.

(...five more minutes?)

(Absolutely not, Sam. I need you to get your ass up. Sam? SAM!)

With that, Sam (or what's left of him) finds himself plunging upward into consciousness.

=== 1.3 - Church ===

When the world snaps into focus, Sam sees his beautiful brother standing in a doorway of a church, about to step outside. Dean is a painting by an old master, lines and curvatures done in pigment, oil, aid light. He's framed by the dark wood of the door and the stained glass windows above.

Nothing makes sense. Sam thought he was a dead man. He thought Dean was too, trapped decades and oceans away from him.

Sam has no clue what miracle or monster conspired to give him this, but whether this is heaven, hell, or something stranger, Dean is here and the floor beneath Sam finally feels solid again.

Sam moves go to him, but he... doesn't? Can't. He can't move. There's pain in his chest and a wicked looking gold knife protruding from it. But it's not only that. His body isn't right. Oh god. This isn't his—

That thought is interrupted by someone—a teenager: white, male, blond hair, average build, t-shirt, jeans, sneakers.

"Michael! Give Dean back!" the teen yells.

Wait. Michael???? As in...

Sam turns back and sees hatchlines of grace glimmering beneath Dean's skin.

No. Noooo. NO.

A violent wave of notrightnotrightnotright slams into Sam. That's an archangel wearing his brother, alright. But definitely not the Michael that he knows from—

But (Michael?) has Dean turning to the church doors and taking two strides past the threshold.

Sam has to move. He has to MOVE.

It's a parlor trick discovered first out of necessity and refined through experience. Lucid dreaming is a passable approximation of it. Sam thinks about it as lurching for the steering wheel.

MOVE, DAMMIT.

"Do something! Please!" the teen begs Sam. "Don't let Michael take him!"

Finally, something gives way. Sam's hands fly to the knife in his chest and yanks it free. His vision starts to gray out. Desperately, he throws himself forward to his brother on half-numb, bambi-legs.

Everything around him slips away into darkness, like a projection being sucked into a blackhole.

=== 1.4 - Identification ===

Darkness.

Darkness.

A mellow sounding ding.

"Hello?"

Another ding, more hesitant.

"I can't understand that."

A static-filled voice erupts, modulating through the entire spectrum of sound frequency.

DSGEHGMAPSAMAOLDSGGEHQOLTRIANULSG—

"Stop! That's too loud!"

That soft ding again, apologetic.

DSGEHG?

Okay, that's Enochian, but a different version than the one Sam is familiar with.

"Uh... ol gnay ge... camilax enochian balit."

DS GEH G? the voice asks again, switching to more classical pronunciation.

"Oh! Sam. Sam Winchester."

ARIGEAVAOAN! SAMUELWINCHESTERIGTELOC

"Whoa, that's too fast again. Wait, did you say I'm dead? I'm right here."

BAGLE TRIAN G GOHOL AR?

The gears in spin in Sam's head. He's unsure of the right way to respond. A gut feeling has him guessing the identity of the voice. "Because it's the truth, Cas."

He hears what could be a gasp. The void around them warps in a blur of color.

When the world—or at least a construct of it—reasserts itself, Sam finds himself seated at the kitchen table of Bobby's Singer's house. Everything from the greasy wall paper to the lingering smell of cigarettes and sage was authentic to his memory.

Cas stands across the table from him, scrutinizing him like he is trying to inspect him from all angles.

"Sam," Cas finally says, relieved, like he's gathered enough evidence to make that determination beyond a reasonable doubt.

"Good to see you, Cas."

"Dean and Jack are both okay." The teenager, Sam assumes, "By the time I got to the church, you were already unconscious. This conversation is taking place in your mind."

"I figured," Sam laughs.

"I apologize for the intrusion."

"Don't worry about it, man. Just tell me, you know, what's going on? Why didn't you recognize me? And where's Lucifer?"

"Lucifer is dead, killed by an archangel blade. By design, archangel blades are lethal to angels. Only angels."

Cas stares at Sam expectantly, like he's waiting for Sam to deliver the punchline.

"...Okay? But you're an angel."

Cas frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude, he was possessing you just a few moments ago. Hand of God, Dean trapped on the submarine, ring any bells?"

Cas is quiet for far too long. "Oh. I was afraid this might have been the case."

"Cas?" Sam prompts.

"What?"

"You..." Cas hesitates. "I should go. This should be explained to you in-person. I'll wake you once we're back at the Bunker," he says, backing away. "I'm sorry," and to his credit, he does look genuinely remorseful.

"Wait!"

But Sam is already alone in his mind.

=== 1.5 - Homecoming ===

Hands poke and prod his skin. He feels like there is something profoundly wrong with his body, but he can't put a finger on it. There's distant, unintelligible noise fighting to be clearer, like he's trying to hone into a radio station.

"He's coming back!" Sam hears as he opens his eyes to the retina-seer of overhead lighting glancing off the tiled surface of the Bunker medbay's floor and walls.

"Hey, hey, man! Don't freak out on me," Dean says, swinging into his field of vision.

There's something wrong with his body, but with some effort, Sam manages to sit up. There are too many people here. Dean by his side, but also Rowena and that teen boy (Jack?) from the church. Cas hangs back with well-built man Sam doesn't know and a blonde woman who feels oddly familiar.

Sam jerks away from the witch's grasp. "Whoa, whoa. What's she doing here?"

The room goes oddly quiet. Dean does thing he does to hide a grimace, but Sam know all his brother's poker tells.

"Relax, Samuel. I'm on your side now," Rowena says with what Sam can only describe as a forced laugh.

"Sam! Do you know who I am?" asks the teen.

"You're Jack," Sam guesses, looking to Cas for support. "Right?"

Finally, someone clears their throat. It's the man Sam doesn't know. "Arthur Ketch," Arthur introduces himself, and Sam notes his accent. "Former British Man of Letters."

Arthur turns to the woman beside him. "Hi, I'm Mary," she says. She glances nervously to the others, before softly adding, "Winchester."

Sam looks from Mary to Dean, his mind reeling. "Mom?"

"...Long story," Dean says.

"Guys, what is going on? Dean? Cas? Talk to me. Did I time travel? I don't get... wait," the wrongness of his body and voice snap into focus. "Why do I sound like..."

NO.

This isn't Sam's body. He knows whose body this is. He knows this voice and these hands. It's the last body on Earth, Heaven, or Hell Sam should be in. Sam lunges off of cot, and all of the sudden there's pandemonium. People are shouting, an IV stand and stool get knocked over, but it's all underwater and far away to him.

"Sammy!"

But nothing Dean can say can make this right. This must be a dream, or a sick new form of psychological torment someone has trapped him in. This can't be happening. He can't breathe.

"Hey, hey, Sam. It's okay—"

"I'm him, Dean. I'm Lucifer," Sam says desperate for him to understand that it absolutely is NOT okay. He's speaking with Lucifer's voice and tongue and lips. Lucifer's heart is thudding rapidly in his chest. There is no delineation of where Lucifer ends and where Sam begins.

Dean's face falls.

"You're not, Sammy. I know it's you in there. This is temporary."

"Lucifer is dead," Jack says.

"And he ain't coming back." Dean asserts, but his brow is furrowed and he's not meeting his eyes.

"Then why do I look like this! Why did you do this to me?"

The words come out Sam mouth, but that's it's the wrong pitch and tone. It puts him on edge. It's like Lucifer is everywhere and he can't escape him.

"Sam, this isn't our doing," Cas explains, "Two and a half years ago, a portion of your soul was harvested by Lucifer," he pauses, considering. "You are that part, and you've seemed to have gained primary control of the vessel that Lucifer once occupied."

Sam turns to face gathered crowd: Dean, Cas, Rowena, Jack, Arthur, Mary fucking Winchester. Deep breath. "So then where's the real Sam?"

=== 1.6 - Skin ===

They don't tell him anything about what's happened in the past two and half years. They make up flimsy excuses about it being late and promise to fill him in the morning. Sam doesn't buy it, he's read out of the same playbook and it's easy to read that they're trying to show a unified front. But even knowing that, there's not much he can do.

He winds up fucking off to the shower room. There's caked blood all over his clothes. Lucifer's blood or his blood, the line of what belongs to who blurs. He runs the shower and peels off the shirt and shoes Lucifer died in—-like a shifter shedding off globs of flesh.

There's a layer of condensation on the mirror. Sam scrubs clean a section, and Lucifer is there, peering back at him: photo negative of circumstance of a lifetime ago. Except he's the one in the driver's seat this time. He catches himself anticipating his reflection getting out of sync. Of Lucifer bursting out from around the corner with a megaphone and bad Ashton Kutcher impression.

It's easier than he would have thought to pilot a different body. There's no latency or differences in perception. With his eyes closed, he doesn't know if he could tell that there's anything wrong with him. It sickens him, how he articulates Lucifer's body like a doll. Uncanny.

He notices his bare chest. There's no protection. He thinks of Meg and Crowley. Anything could crawl inside him at any moment.

He doesn't think, just moves, bolting from the shower room shirtless with the shower head still running.

=== 1.7 - Protection ===

Sam strides into his room with single-minded focus. A marker or pen, anything that writes on skin, a box cutter even, he thinks wildly. He pulls open two desk drawers before finding a black Sharpie.

He sits on the edge of the bed and goes at his left arm with the Sharpie. When the anti-possession symbol is in place, his frantic brain finally settles.

"Nice ink."

Sam looks up and sees Dean in the doorway. An expression filled with longing and pain briefly flirts across Dean's face. Sam doesn't exactly know what to do with that.

"Got something for you." Dean tosses a pair of underwear at him. "It's not like you don't steal my clothes normally." Because it's easier than acknowledging that the clothes in Sam's closets are a size too big. Dean puts the rest of the folded clothes he brought on the bed: sweatpants, t-shirts, a few balled up socks.

"Aren't you scared of me? I saw myself, in the bathroom mirror."

Dean won't meet his eyes. "I trust Cas. He says you're Sam and Rowena does, too."

"But I'm not the real Sam," Sam corrects as he puts on the clothes. "I'm just Sam from two and half years ago."

Dean forces a chuckle. "Sam, what's a different meatsuit and a few less memories gonna change?"

Dean is faking casualness and missing by about a mile. It doesn't add up why Dean is letting him replace the present Sam, unless...

"How long ago did Sam die?" Sam asks. "How long, Dean?"

"Dammit. Give it a rest! Okay?"

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. Dean grumbles about being too sober and leaves.

Once he's sure Dean is gone, Sam flicks all the lights off.

=== 1.8 - Fantasy ===

Sam wakes to sound coming from the kitchen.

The Bunker's emergency lights cut on and off.

Sam goes to the kitchen.

He sees...

Lucifer. The angel smirks. With a snap of his fingers, Sam is back in his normal body.

"Wow, so glad that's over with. Even I was starting to get bored."

"What?"

"You possessing my dear old Nick? Demon Dean, trials to close hell for good? Not to mention that whole 'soulless arc.' Now that was a unironic favorite of mine."

"This isn't—"

"A work of fiction? Buddy, you really let me pull a fast one on you. This was me torturing you this whole time!"

Lucifer strides closer. Sam backs up, scared shitless, until he runs into the sink's edge and there's nowhere else for Sam to go.

"No. You're dead. This is a dream."

He grips Sam by the shoulders, adjusting Sam's shirt. "Come on, bunkie. What's more likely: Dean let the real you died in some bizarro world and you've been walking around in my second-hand duds? Or you never got out." Lucifer cocks his head to the side and sighs. "Cut off your hand."

Sam shakes his head.

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Sam, playtime is over. Cut off your hand, or I won't heal you for a month." Lucifer says it airly, but Sam can tell he's dead serious. Lucifer's hand slips into the front pocket of Sam's pants. He roots around and then pulls out Sam's cell phone. He swipes across the screen a couple times, before showing it to Sam. There's a timer counting down: 4:56, 4:55, 4:54...

Sam feels like everything is fraying out of control.

"Don't." He can barely breathe. He's trapped.

"Four twenty four, four twenty three..."

"Please don't."

"A month is a long time go without being healed, Sam, and I have big plans for the next thirty one days."

Sam's heart races. He can't do that. He won't survive. He glances at the countdown "Give me a knife," he whispers.

"Nah, you have teeth."

Sam grits his teeth and drops to his knees. "Please, please, can I have a knife? I'm sorry. Please."

Lucifer sighs, but procures a box cutter from thin air and hands it over.

Sam nervously looks to Lucifer, silently hoping that his groveling was enough—that Lucifer wouldn't make him actually go through with this. But the angel stares back, waiting. Sam sucks in a harsh breath as he extends the blade several clicks. He doesn't let himself think: he just slices down on the back of his left wrist. The pain is sharp and bright red blood trickles from the cut. A wave of lightheadedness washes over him. He pokes the tip of the box cutter into the top of the cut again. He doesn't want to be doing thing, but he can't think about that. He has layers of tendon to get through.

Footsteps approaching. Sam has a moment swallow his shame before Dean rounds the corner, with Cas and Jack following closely behind.

They group starts screaming at Lucifer to leave him alone, but it's utterly useless. Sam keeps cutting himself, because what else is he supposed to do?

Dean get to Sam and tries to pull the box cutter from him, but Sam clings on to it for dear life. He doesn't have time to explain to Dean doesn't that failing Lucifer's task is so much worse. Before he can stop Dean, the box cutter is pried away from his bloody fingers.

"No, please!" Sam begs, but Dean holds the box cutter out of his reach. Sam can't fight his brother for it, not with his other hand hanging, still half attached.

"Five. Four. Three..." Lucifer reads off.

Sam panics blindly as the deadline closes in, as they pass the point where there's no way he can physically finish the task in time. He screams in pure animal anguish.

The alarm on his phone blares.

"Hey! Sammy, c'mon. Hey, wake up."

=== 1.9 - Resurrection ===

Sam bolts to sitting from Dean gently shaking his arm. "Hey, you were screaming in your sleep."

It's dark and he's drenched in sweat. The familiar mattress creaks under them. Dean looks at him, worried. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream," Sam says, looking down at his hands. His stomach turns with the reminder that he's still stuck in Lucifer's body. "Well... most of it."

Dean stands to go. Then, at the door, he pauses, griping the door frame for support. "Four days," Dean says hoarsely, without turning to face him. "That's how long it's been, Sam. So getting you with the wrong skin and the wrong memories..."

Sam stands and the space between them shrinks, their lips nearly meeting. It's so dark that it's almost as anonymous as that moment left unwritten between the last and first pages of Chuck Shirley's manuscripts: Ilchester, the blinding light of the devil...

Sam pushes Dean away at the last minute. Sam dry swallows, then manages to say, "You don't want—"

Dean coughs awkwardly, "Sorry, sorry... Maybe if we just—"

Dean opens his arms, projecting his intentions like Sam is a spooked horse. They hug, but... it’s all wrong. Their bodies are strangers and don't know how to fit together. The rules of who goes up and who goes down are out the window. Their muscles are tense like the other is gonna pull a knife any moment.

Sam tries to bail out of the hug first, but Dean stubbornly commits to try to make it work. It's unnerving. Eventually, Dean takes the L and lets Sam step back from him.

"Look, genetically, definitionally, philosophically—I’m not your little brother."

As Dean leaves, he says, "We're gonna get you sorted. Body, soul, whole shebang. Okay?"

Sam nods, but he doesn't believe it. As a child, Azazel cursed him with the gift of prophecy. But it wouldn't take a psychic to know how his story ends. He's pulp fiction; he's an absurdist comedy. His life is the cautionary tale of a boy who tried to hunt monsters, only to ended up trapped in the body of one. He's a horror story.

Chapter Text

Dean... he's coming.
—Sam, "Lucifer Rising"

=== 2.1 - Doubt ===

Something about waking up in this strange world—where his brother was years removed from his body was not his own—was so oppressively claustrophobic. Sam had to get out, out of this situation, and seeing as that may not be possible, out of the Bunker at the very least. So before dawn, Sam gives up on trying to fall back asleep. He tucks his running shoes under his elbow and sneaks through the halls as quietly as he can.

He gets as far as base of the stairs, before out of nowhere, hand on his chest blocks his path.

“Running away, are we?” the burly British guy (Arthur?) asks dryly.

Sam shakes the guy's grip off of him. “Going a run. There’s a difference,” Sam replies, although a bit more shortly that he means.

“At an hour such as this, I didn't want to presume.” Arthur muses, but a tap on Sam's leg has looking down at the angel blade Arthur is causally wielding. Not waiting around to find himself on the pointy end of the blade, Sam shoots a hand out to disarm the guy. But Arthur is way faster than Sam would have guessed, evading him easily and in one fluid motion, pining Sam against the wall.

"Arthur, what—?"

"You may have bamboozled the rest of them, but—"

Arthur is interrupted by the kitchen light flipping on and Mary trudging in.

"Ketch, you psychopath," Mary says. "Let him go."

"He was trying to run away!" Arthur protests, but releases Sam anyway. "Wouldn't it be just like Lucifer to fool both the angel and the witch?"

Mary's expression is guarded, but she still motions for Arthur to hand over the weapon. She holds the blade for a beat too long, casting a wary glance at Sam.

"Look, I didn't realize I was on house arrest, okay?" Sam huffs out.

Just then, Dean arrives with Castiel only two steps behind him. Dean takes in the standoff. "Seriously? It's like, five in the morning."

Arthur shakes his head and strides out of the room in the direction of the library.

"I'll start coffee," Cas offers.

=== 2.2 - Business ===

Jack joins them and Arthur doesn't. Over scrambled eggs and toast, they brief Sam on the last two and half years. He learns that it was Dean's crack plan to stop Lucifer by saying 'yes' to the Michael of the other universe. He learns that by the skin of their teeth, both Lucifer and that Michael ended up on the wrong end of the archangel blade.

Slowly, he learns of the other Sam's adventures.
1. Mary is alive and Crowley is dead.
2. Chuck is God.
3. Jack is Lucifer's progeny, but Cas's son.
4. Sam died in an alternate world where he was never born.
5. The only way to get back to that world requires archangel grace

It's a lot to wrap his mind around. Every time Sam asks for clarification on the events that he never lived through, Dean's jaw sets for a fraction of second.

Sam learns more than what they tell him directly. He minds their body language and inflections, noting how different everything is from how he remember them being just a week ago. Dean is run down and fraying. Cas is more human than ever. Mary is slotted in like a missing piece that's always been here. Jack keeps trying to be by his side like a lost puppy.

Gradually the conversation transitions from debrief to strategy meeting. Priority one is to procure more archangel grace, as they need it for the portal. Sam also learns that Jack will die without a substitute for the grace that Lucifer stole from him. For now, the nephilim is rendered close to human. The other thing on their list an alert from Garth that an alarming number of demon have been gathering in Michigan.

Reunite this piece of Sam's soul the rest of him trapped in an alternate reality, save a supernatural teenager from impending death, and squash a demon uprising. How hard could that be?

Arthur returns after a little while, walking swiftly into the kitchen and depositing a stack of shoe boxes on the kitchen table.

Cas shifts slightly to put himself between them.

Sam sets down his beer. "If you're here to attack me again..."

The guy waves a dismissive hand. "I thought it over, and let's say I believe you to have no prior memory of me, at the very least," He opens the shoe boxes: they're running shoes in a couple different sizes. Sam is suddenly subconscious that he's the only one wearing just socks. "Fortunately for you, fencing designer footwear is a less-illicit illicit side business of mine."

"You need better hobbies," Dean snips.

"Thanks, Arthur?" Sam says, at a loss of how else to respond.

"There it is again!" Arthur points his finger at him. "Ketch. You're supposed to call me Ketch."

Mary cracks up laughing.

They hash out that they have a couple leads to archangel grace. The most obvious place one is the last place Sam wants to go back to, but it's not like they have the horseman's rings anyway. Cas suspects an angel who goes by the name "Sister Jo" may have grace of some kind stashed away. Mary has a lead from within the hunter community of a collector of powerful items. Ketch suspects that Gabriel's grace may have been sold on the black market under when archangel was captured by Asmodeus. There is also the possibility that Sam and Dean have residual archangel grace in their bodies from their respective recent possession, but Cas firmly reminds the group that the time they tried extracting Gadreel's grace, it nearly killed Sam.

They decide to split up. Jack protests the plan to drop him at Jody's house for wayward supernatural teens "where he can learn to be a real boy." Sam makes the mistake of smirking at Dean's joke, causing Dean to turn at him. "You're benched, too."

Sam's jaw drops. "You can't be serious."

"Dude, you can't hunt in your condition. You're in the wrong body."

Sam stands. "Fine. I'll prove it to you."

Ten minutes and four bullets later, Dean examines the paper target. "Good. Real good," he muses.

"Still worse than you," Sam replies, returning the firearm to Dean.

"Well, that's par for the course." Dean clasps a warm hand on Sam's shoulder as he leaves.

Sam's spirits fall when he notices Mary's shaken expression and her hand resting on the hilt of the angel blade in her belt. He knows the image he conjured: Lucifer with a gun. "Mom, I..."

But Mary drops her ear protection on the shooting range floor and walks out without another word.

Sam gives Mary the grace of a head start before he heads back up to the main part of the Bunker, only to be intercepted in the hallway by Jack.

"Sam! I have a present for you." The teenager thrust a newsprint wrapped package into Sam's hands.

Sam blinks. "Look, I uh... I know I look like him, but I'm not... I'm not your dad."

"Don't worry, Lucifer is my father only genetically. I wanted to give you something because you're my friend. Or, you were." Jack frowns. "I asked Castiel what I could do to help you. I used to have a bunch of powers, but now I don't anymore. I feel bad about that."

Sam hesitantly unwraps the gift. It's a blank leather journal.

Without any preamble, Mary and Ketch both leave the Bunker in pursuit of separate leads. Sam tries not to take their hasty departure personally.

That afternoon, after picking through a heap of Dean and Cas's clothes to find a new fed suit and printing off fresh ID's, the remaining four hit the road.

They take two cars. Sam and Dean plan to catch up with Cas and Jack at Jody's later that evening, but first they have an errand to run in the city.

A bell chimes as they enter a shop. "Excuse me, are you accepting walk-ins?" Sam asks the front desk clerk.

"Whatcha lookin to get?"

Dean pulls down the collar of his shirt.

"That."

=== 2.3 - Guest ===

They get to Jody's before sunset. Jody greats them warmly. Claire pokes her head out of the kitchen where she and Alex have been showing Jack how cook. Claire's older than how Sam remembers her, jaded. She looks Sam up and down. "Heard about the new duds."

It's a bit of a squeeze, but they manage to fit seven around the table. They only have to make it work for the night, since in the morning, Cas is heading off to find Sister Jo, while Sam and Dean will be following up Mary's lead about on the supernatural collector. Over shepherds pie, they catch each other up on recent events. There's someone named Patience that Jack asks about, and Kaia who they seem to have lost recently. Jody and Claire seems especially wary of the plan to reopen a portal to the other world. Alex asks to see Sam's new tattoo, even though it's covered in saran wrap and medical tape. Jody rolls up her sleeve to show off some of the new ink that she's had done.

"What's up, kiddo?" Dean asks Claire, who has been getting increasingly agitated. "Come on, open up."

Claire crosses her arms. "I don't know. It's something about being in someone else in body and five minutes later, already doing whatever the hell he wants to it. Rubs me the wrong way. Like disrespecting the dead."

"The sigil prevents non-consensual possession," Castiel mumbles, because the guy can't read the room for the life of him.

Alex rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it's not like he a trampstamped Lucifer's vessel for the lolz. Chill."

"I don't need you to be the feelings-police, Alex. He asked me, I wouldn't have freaking brought it up otherwise," Claire snaps back.

"Girls, girls!" Jody tries to interrupt, but Alex and Claire continue to snip at each other. Silverware clatters to the floor.

"It's temporary," Sam says under his breath. When no one hears him, he repeats himself. "It's temporary!"

That finally gets their attention.

His hands are shaking, but the words fall out of his mouth, "I woke up like this. It's not for forever, I promise. And I get why you're upset. I've been possessed more times that I would like, so I get why me walking around in a different body and changing things... that's upsetting to you. Trust me, if this were anyone else's body, my number one priority would be to leave it better than I found it. But the dead body I'm trapped in is Lucifer's, and after everything, I honestly don't care if I do something to it that he wouldn't have wanted."

Claire stands from the table. "That's not Lucifer's body, idiot," she spits out. "No, you don't get it. None of you... Do you you even know his name?"

It hits Sam like a ton of bricks. Nick, his name was Nick.

Claire continues,"Or if he had a family?" She zeroes in on Castiel and shakes her head, "So you've learned nothing."

She storms out of the kitchen. The six still at the table sit in shock. Cas hangs his head.

=== 2.4 - Nightmare ===

Sam knows it's a dream this time because he's back in his own body. He's a holding cell of some kind and there's a box cutter in his hand.

The only other thing in the cell is a man suspended by his wrists. The hanged man lifts his head: it's Gadreel.

Only it's not Gadreeel. It's Gadreel's vessel, Sam realizes. Joe, Sam manages to recall.

Then Sam's body moves against his will, until he's face to face with Joe. This time all of Sam's tricks to overcome mind-control are useless. Because there's no one else to wrestle control from; it's just him hurting another person. His arm moves the box cutter up and arcs down, tearing into Joe's chest. Joe moans in pain, his blood splattering on the floor.

"Sam. Sam, stop," Joe begs, but Sam can't control what he's doing. He can't stop the fact that he's carving an Enochian design into Joe's chest.

Joe looks down at his chest, then puts up a weak struggle. "Please, Sam. I don't want to be killed like this again."

Sam's free hand moves on its own accord toward the center of the completed bloody sigil.

Joe gives up, relaxing into the restraints. "You're no different from an angel."

With one touch, Joe explodes.

=== 2.5 - Scream ===

Sam doesn't think. He slips out of Jody's house and then he breaks into a run. It's dark and brisk outside, but he doesn't stop until his lungs are burning. Once he's safely in the middle of nowhere, he drops to his knees, cups his hands over his mouth, and screams.

=== 2.6 - Guilt ===

He gets back to Jody's house an hour or so later. Dean alone in the kitchen with the light off, nursing a beer. He takes one look a Sam. “Figured you'd be back, eventually. You should shower, you probably reek."

Sam leans against the kitchen sink. "I killed this guy," he gestures vaguely at himself.

Dean snorts. "Lucifer killed him. Let's get that straight."

Sam shakes his head. "Nick was the backup vessel. Nick... I don't even know his last name," he sighs. "There was a moment. At Ilchester..."

He remembers it with such startling clarity: Lucifer, speaking directly into his brain, asking for permission to come inside. But hidden by the brightest light, he instead chose certain death and a first/final kiss...

"If only I had just said 'yes' then, Dean—"

"We can go back and forth about all the people we could've saved 'til we're blue in face." The empty clinks to the bottom of the recycling bin.

Sam takes a breath and puts and hand on Dean's shoulder. "What happened in Moorehead tunnel wasn't your fault."

Dean shrugs Sam off. "You weren't there."

Sam steps back. "Where do you and I stand, Dean?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the Sam from the past. I want to know if... if anything has changed between us? I mean, you and your Sam."

Dean closes his eyes briefly. "We were good. Me and... me and the real Sam."

"I miss my Dean," Sam says without thinking, belatedly realizing the unintentional cruelty behind it.

"Shower Sam, then bed. Tomorrow, we'll see if this Bart guy has what we need to get you back."

=== 2.7 - Parasite ===

Sam heads to the guest bathroom upstairs. The thought of exposing Nick's body to anymore indecency has his stomach turning. He runs the shower but can't bring himself to take off his pants, much less get under the spray.

He hears quiet voices talking in the other room. It's unmistakably Dean and Cas. With the shower still running, Sam cracks the door.

"—tell me?"

"Of course, Dean. But I am absolutely certain that the only occupant of that body is the piece of Sam's soul."

"We have to get him back, Cas. Having him be here but not be here... it's friggen killing me, man."

"We're working on it."

"Cas... I need you to so something for me," Sam hears his voice crack. "If the real Sam ain't coming back, you gotta erase the last two years from me. Wipe everything after the submarine."

"Dean—"

"We can't live like this! At least that way, he gets to have his Dean, okay? And—"

Sam shuts the door. He's heard enough. Summoning up the courage and his shirt gets pulled off over his head as he draws close to the mirror hanging over the sink. The plastic wrap and tape smarts when they are peeled away from Nick's raw skin. Sam takes in his reflection: familiar black lines transposed onto a different canvas.

Perhaps this is a horror story, but he is the monster. He's parasitic by nature. He replaces you, wearing your clothes and your face. Filling up all the spaces you used to occupy. He gets to choose what parts of your old life to keep or abandon. You have no fucking control.

Chapter Text

It must be weird, you looking at me and seeing him.
—Nick, "Stranger in a Strange Land"

=== 3.1 - Minneapolis ===

The mission tracking down Bart Kemp is a bust. They find the hunter day drinking in a Minneapolis bar. It takes them some time, but eventually they convince Bart to hand over the artifact they they were seeking. They're following him to his truck when a woman dressed in all black appears.

Sam doesn't recognize her, but it seems that Dean does. "Billie?" Dean says, stunned for a moment.

"You boys have no idea what you're dealing with," Billie says. "Do you understand how dangerous a Baozhu is?"

Dean scoffs. "It's a magic pearl that can open a magic portal. I think I get how it works."

A scythe appears at Dean's throat. Reaper, Sam realizes. Fantastic.

"It's wish magic. It could have devastating, reality-altering consequences. Forgive me for not gambling the fate of life-as-we-know-it on someone whose deepest desire is quite possibly strippers, liquor, and a steak dinner. And you,” she says to Sam, “Yours is a bit on the nose.”

Sam sighs. “No, I’m with you," he admits. "Maybe it is too dangerous.”

Billie takes a long look at Sam, like he's a curiosity. Then she vanishes, along with the box with the pearl.

"Dammit," Dean shouts. He turns to Bart "I'm guessing you don't have another one of those stashed somewhere?"

While Dean runs inside the gas station, Sam returns a missed call from Jody.

"I couldn't help but do some digging on who you're wearing." Jody admits. "He's a person of interest in the double-homicide of his wife, Sarah and newborn Teddy." She gives him a name, date, and address. "Trail's gone cold."

The timing doesn't line up for the killing to be Lucifer directly, but that doesn't mean Lucifer didn't have a demon on retainer to do his dirt work.

"Sam, are you kidding me? This is a nine-year-old case. We're not driving all the way to Delaware from here for that," Dean protests. "We've gotta stay focused on getting that portal open."

"I'm asking for a couple days, then we'll go right back to finding solutions for me and Jack. There could be a demon still there. Or a ghouls--"

"Or maybe your guy just went postal."

Sam shakes his head. "I don't expect you to understand. But I need to do this. I have to at least try to do right by Nick."

Dean looks hesitant, so Sam plays dirty. "If you don't want to work the case with me, that's fine. I'll steal a car and meet you back at the Bunker when I'm done."

Dean sighs and puts Baby in gear, headed off to Pike Creek.

=== 3.2 - Overpower ===

They spend the whole night and next day on the road, driving in shifts. Dean finally pulls into a motel just shy of Pittsburgh.

"You should take the first shower," Dean offers. Sam nods, tossing his duffel on the bed.

"And Sam, don’t fake it this time.”

Sam freezes.

Dean does a little laugh under his breath, but he's dead serious. "Yeah, I noticed that you'll wash your hands and face, but anything that needs stripping down to your birthday suit is a no-go."

"I'm acclimating."

"No, you're not."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Sam. Fine, prove me wrong. Take a shower. I'll wait."

Sam can't move.

"Come on."

Dean puts a gentle hand on hims and leads Sam into the motel bathroom like a sick dog.

"Clothes, Sam." When Sam refuses to comply, Dean starts at his shirt and undresses him like a fucking toddler.

When he gets to Sam's belt, Sam reflexively grabs his hands to stop him.

"So... care to explain the absolutely bonkers reaction you're having to your new junk?"

"Why do you care so much? I'm not your Sam. It's not worth psychoanalyzing."

"You're still a part of him. Your baggage is gonna be his baggage once we put you back together."

"So don't put us back together."

Dean looks him up and down. "...what did you just say?"

Sam shrugs. "Don't put my part of Sam's soul back in Sam. He was getting along fine without me the past couple of years. I'm all the worse parts of him."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sam sits on the edge of the tub. "Look, I'm gonna help you get the real Sam back--body and soul. But don't be surprised when I'm not as well-adjusted as the Sam you're used to."

"Sammy, work with me. I can't take being trapped in a car with you smelling like a friggen gym rag." Dean sits next to him. "Is this about seeing Lucifer naked?" Dean softly adds, "Is this about what he did to you in the Cage? I know what he did to you. It was... it was comprehensive."

Sam scoffs. "I can't say I'm thrilled to be squatting in the body previously occupied by the archangel who raped me. But no, that's not what I'm having a hard time getting over." He looks at Dean, earnestly. "I'm fully in control of someone else's body, and no one should have that kind of power."

Dean digests this. "Let me be in control."

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Sam, get in the shower with me."

Sam laughs. As if it were that easy. "Look, I appreciate the effort."

They go return to the bedroom. Sam pulls on a different shirt and jumps continues reading the case file on his laptop. Dean settles on the bed, sulking and scrolling on his phone, a flask at his side.

Dean takes a long swig. "I'll blow you in the shower."

Sam doesn't even look up. "I'm not your type."

"Have you met me? My type is willing, breathing, and voting age."

"If showering was off the table, you wouldn't be offering to have sex with me like this."

"Nah, give me any version of Sam and I'd get frisky with him. Besides, Nick Whatshisname isn’t too shabby, you know.”

Sam closes the laptop. "Dude, you can’t even look me in the eye because I’m wearing his face.”

"That's not true. I can tell you it's you."

Dean's lying. Sam can tell. It gets under his skin and before he can think better of it, he's across the room to Dean with two fingers raised.

"What are you--"

Sam suddenly snaps his fingers in his face. Dean flinches away, and Sam braces for Dean to deck him any moment. But instead he just stands there, shock still and wide-eyed.

"If you want it so bad, go cruise, Dean."

Dean backs away. "You didn't have to be a dick to prove your point."

Later, they lie next to each other in darkness. "I didn't know I'd be bothered, okay? Honestly," Dean says to the ceiling.

Sam doesn't acknowledge that he heard him, but Dean continues anyway, "The first time I met him, he was wearing old-you and a white suit. The you with the long hair. So for a long ass time, when I pictured the Devil, I pictured you.” Dean's voice starts to crack. "I miss you, Sam. I'd give you my body if I could, little brother. If you needed a different body that's never been touched by him. My body is yours... it's always been yours."

=== 3.3 - Delaware ===

The next day, Sam and Dean arrive at the house in Pike Creek, Delaware. The grass is knee high and there are signs posted on the doors starting that the building is condemned.

They pick the back door. There's no furniture left inside, so their search of the house goes by relatively quickly.

"Anything?" Dean calls down from the top floor.

"No, I..." A cool breeze hits the side of Sam's face. Sam turns and spots the air register, noticing something metallic stuck in the grill. He fishes the object out. It's a man's gold ring, Sam realizes. A gold plain band that he knew on instinct would fit his ring finger perfectly. For no rational reason, he slips Nick's wedding band on his finger.

The whole world shifts to the left. Sam's stomach lurches and the temperature plummets. The ghost of woman appears. "You're not my husband. Who are you?"

"My name is Sam Winchester. You're Sarah, aren't you?" The ghost nods. "Why didn't you go with your reaper?"

The ghost gets suddenly agitated. "Sam. You have to help me! I have to tell my husband! Tell Nick that he--"

The ghost blinks out of existence.

They're in the Impala and Dean is zealously tackling a hoagie.

"So we burn her bones, Sam. Did you forget how to hunt?"

Sam unconsciously touches the ring in his pocket. "I'm working the case. We have a ghost with unfinished business--"

"Odds are she doesn't know that Nick's kicked it. Tell her he's passed and that it's time for her to move on."

"Or, whatever ganked her and her son is still out there. Check out these police statements: possible home invasion, the responding officer's memory loss, a neighbor who retracted his account. Demon possession fits."

"Fine, let's shake down the cop and the neighbor."

"I can't go with. I'm supposed to be a missing person."

Dean shakes his head. "You owe me."

While Dean is questioning one of Nick's neighbors under the pretense of being FBI, Sam skims the communications from the others. Ketch reports that was able to source the last of Gabriel's grace from a shaman, but Rowena cautions that it is unlikely enough to open a rift long enough to retrieve Sam's body. No reports from Mary.

Sam takes a breath and pulls Nick's ring out of his pocket. He puts it on and sure enough, Sarah's ghost appears in the seat next to him.

"Sam? Where am I? Will you help me?"

Sam keeps his voice gentle. "Sarah. You're dead and so are your husband and son. There's nothing left for you here. You can move on."

The ghost shakes her head. "I can't, Sam. Nick is trapped. The Devil himself is trying to take over his body!"

"Lucifer is dead. He can't hurt anyone else anymore."

"No, that's not--"

There's a knock on the Impala window. Sarah vanishes.

"This guy isn't snitching," Dean says. "Something has him scared straight."

Sam gets out of the car and heads toward the house.

"Sam, where are you going? He's gonna recognize you the moment he sees you."

Sam smiles tightly. "Exactly."

They manage to get a lead out of Arty Nielson that points them to a specific demon: Abraxas. The last known location of Abraxas is a storage lock up in Minnesota.

"Hey, let me see that phone number again." Dean leans over to see the laptop screen. He pulls out his phone and swipe around for a couple seconds. "The lock up is one of Mom's."

"Do you think she killed him or just trapped him?"

"Either way, I think we're good to head out of here." Dean puts the phone to his ear, "Hey Mary, we're working a case out in Pike Creek and we're looking for some info on a demon by the name of Abraxas, call me back when you can."

Dean sips his coffee and turns back to Sam. "Any progress with you ghost girl? We can always burn her bones before we hit the road."

"No use. She's tied to Nick's wedding ring."

"So we melt the ring."

Dean's phone goes off. "Yeah, Mary?" Dean face darkens and he switches to speakerphone. "Who the hell is this?"

"My name is Kipling. I have an address and a list of demands."

=== 3.4 - Blindsided ===

They hear a woman scream on the end of the line.

Dean grabs the phone. "That's not good enough. We're not coming in unless--"

Suddenly, both front doors of the Impala are yanked open and Sam and Dean are dragged out of the car by force.

They are tied up and pushed into the pub by the demon grunts. They pass by Mary, who is also battered and tied up. There's an analog clock behind the bar that Sam thinks shows the correct time. He counts twelve demons total.

Kipling smiles warmly from one of the pub tables. "Boys, pleasure to finally meet you. Sam, love the new look."

Dean struggles against the restraints. "Get your goddamn hand off me. What the hell do you want from us?"

Kipling shrugs. "I did want to make a deal, but seeing that I have all three of you at my mercy. I might just kill the lot of you."

"You can't kill us," Dean laughs. "Don't you think the last King of Hell would have done that if he could? You need us."

Kipling rolls his eyes. "I don't believe that. On the off chance you're right, I'll keep you around. Mom on the other hand..." Kipling flips open a folding knife.

"Don't hurt her!" Sam shouts. He steals a glance at the clock. "I know what you want. I can give it to you." Sam swallows. "Willingly."

Kipling turns to him, as do the other demons.

Sam continues. "You were a Lucifer loyalist. I'm everything you want. I'm the soul of Lucifer's perfect vessel wrapped up in his secondary one."

The demon tips his head to the side, intrigued, "What are you suggesting?"

Sam takes a deep breath. "I'll take the throne in Hell, if that's what you want. Or serve as your second in command. Just please, let them go."

Kipling smiles. "Sam, you do you have a point. While I don't want you on the throne, I do find you utterly irresistible like this." He grabs Sam's face and caresses his jaw.

Sam has to force himself not to move away.

"I wonder what you'd be willing to do to keep your brother and mother alive. How far you'd go."

Anything, Sam thinks, just as Kipling grabs him by the back of the back of the head, grinding Sam's face into his crouch. Kipling lets out an exaggerated moan, and Sam can feel him stiffening up against his cheek.

"We all watched you, Sam. Back when you were Lucifer's plaything. It was the closest thing we had to pay-per-view." Kipling signals two other demons over. They pry Sam's mouth open. Sam can hear Mary and Dean shouting, but he does his best to block that out.

He gets a zipper and the jangle of a belt buckle's warning before ripe demon cock is fed into his mouth. It's wet and sliding against his lips. It's making him gag. "Yes... yes, Lucifer. Suck my cock, holy shit, you're gorgeous like this Lucifer, yes..." the demon babbles and then groans. A wet splatter hits Sam's face. He can't wipe it off... his hands are literally tied.

Kipling is breathing heavily. "You're worth keeping around, Sam. I'll give you that," he says, ruffling Sam's hair. "Quality entertainment." Kipling glances over at Dean and then back to Sam. "We should make you fuck your brother. Wouldn't that be sick?" he asks Mary.

"Bastard," Mary spits out. The demons break out into laughter.

"Oh sorry, is mommy dearest not in on the joke? That's surprising, considering how much you two like to keep it in the family."

Sam can't look at Mary. He's never been this humiliated. He looks at the clock so he doesn't have to look at Mary.

Suddenly, there's a commotion at the front door. Then a tied up Cas is pushed inside.

Sam's heart nearly stops. All the humiliation he just endured to buy time was for nothing. Cas was supposed to be the cavalry.

"Castiel, nice of you to finally. You missed me taking two of the three on a spin. Shall I take your righteous man for a ride?"

"I will kill you," Cas swears.

Kipling punches Cas in the face whip-quip. Cas's head jerks to the side and he falls back onto Dean.

"I'm kidding, feathers. I'd much rather take Hell's most popular model for a spin."

"Mary, look away!" Dean suddenly shouts.

But Mary keeps her eyes "I'm not going to leave him!"

"Mom, please!" Dean begs.

Kipling roughly pulls Sam's pants and underwear down. Sam grits his teeth. He's survived worse, he makes himself think. He selfishly looks back at the others: Cas who has managed to get to his feet, Mary who is finally forced to look away because she's wiping tears from her eyes, and Dean who locks eyes with him.

"Pamela," Dean says clearly.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and the moment he does, everything is swallowed by a brilliant white light, screams, and the smell of ozone as Cas goes nuclear.

Chapter Text

=== 4.1 - Genre ===

Consider that this is a ghost story. Many ghost stories are categorically horror stories, but not all of them are. It usually depends on the intent of the story and how the ghost is utilized within the narrative. Sometimes the ghost serves as a moral compass to the protagonist. Sometimes the protagonist is the ghost, while other times the ghost is the monster. Sometimes the ghost is just a dead son-of-a-gun. But more often than not, the ghost story is defined by the presence of those who can't move on.

=== 4.2 - Aftermath ===

Clean and cool grace washes over Sam. He gives Cas a small nod in thanks, rubbing at his newly unbounded hands.

Dean quietly prompts, "Mary, too."

Cas turns to Mary, but she shakes her head. "I'm fine. That demon was just making stuff up to get a rise out of us."

"Demons... they, uh, they don't generally lie about stuff like that, Mom," Dean says gently.

"Sister Jo was unable to procure archangel grace for Jack or Sam, however she made a point of providing me a top of 'lower octane' in order for her to be 'square with the brothers Winchester'. Her words." He sighs, "My point is that there is no scarcity, should you change your mind."

When Sam stands, Dean moves to follow him. "I'm fine, Dean. Give me a minute."

Dean looks torn, but nods and lets Sam pass.

In the pub's bathroom, Sam rinses and spits. He cranks an absurd amount of paper towels out of the dispenser and cleans off his face. Nick's face.

His fingers brush the ring in his pocket. The lights flicker and wind whips its way through the small space.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispers hoarsely. "I'm sorry for what I let them do to your husband's body."

He means it. He's sorry for the recent past as well as the distant past. Everything up to this point that he feels guilty for.

"We have a problem," Mary tell him as he returns form the restroom.

Cas and Dean are mid-argument.

"Jack shouldn't have even been there!" Cas insists.

"I agree with you!" Dean fires back.

"What's going on?" Sam asks. Dean spares him a worried glance.

Cas pulls out his phone and holds it up. A mechanical voice plays back "You have zero new voicemails. You have two saved voice mails. First saved voice mail from Claire Novak: This is Claire. I'm sorry I didn't know who else to call. Jack had to use his powers even though he knew he wasn't supposed. Now he won't wake up. Castiel, I don't know what to do."

"Claire and Jack were looking into Mary's storage lock up, regarding a demon. Now he's dying, eminently." Cas paces. "Without grace, his powers would have consumed his soul for energy. Any word from Rowena?"

"Just texted her," Dean informs.

Sam feels so guilty. Dean sent Donna the lead, but Sam was the one who couldn't leave the Pike Creek case alone.

Cas's phone rings. He picks up the call, "Rowena?" Cas frowns. "No, that's not an option." He put Rowena on speaker phone.

"What else do you think be the most likely curative for an ailing nephilim?" Rowena poses.

Archangel grace, Sam realizes.

=== 4.3 - Insufficient ===

Jody, Alex, and Claire are taking Jack to the Bunker. Those in Detroit are also headed back to meet them there.

Dean is driving silently, tense and fuming.

"You're mad," Sam prompts.

Dean scrubs his face with his hand. "I'm have a week, that's for sure. Every time I think we're gonna have a win, it's three steps forward, five steps back. And now we gotta save Jack with the one thing we know that could get you back."

"Look, if it's any consolation, we probably don't have enough grace to keep the portal open, anyway."

"We could have tried, goddammit!"

"Dealing with me isn't urgent. Jack is in a coma. We can regroup and find more archangel grace once he's okay."

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Are you really gonna help me get the other Sam back? Because it seems to me like every opportunity you get, you do the exact opposite of that.

Sam's mouth hangs open for a moment. "I'm not... sabotaging the plan, Dean."

"Then why does it feel like I'm the only one still trying! It's like I'm only one who cares about getting the real Sam back." He shakes his head in disbelief. "You don't stop Billie for taking the pearl. You make us go to friggen Delaware--"

"I was trying to do what's right!"

"What's right is getting my brother back!"

Sam is stunned.

"I finally put my finger on it. You're not sabotaging plans, you're just having a goddamn fawn reaction at every mention of Lucifer or possession. The Sam I know, you don't have his stones."

"I'm sorry," Sam says, because what else can he say say in the face of the truth.

"You're not Sam." Dean says, "But I still hate every angel and demon who's possessed you is dead and that Cas barbecued those sons of bitches at the pub, because I would have killed them slower for you. You're not Sam, but I keep watching you suffer and that there's diddly-friggin-squat I've been able to do to stop it."

Sam takes a breath. "I'm the part of Sam's soul that remembers hell," he confesses.

Dean's brows draw in confusion.

"When you were on the submarine, either Lucifer sought out the part that was familiar, or Cas intervened to give the rest of me a fighting chance. He squirreled away this piece of my soul inside his grace for years, like I was some kind of sick memento for him. The next thing I know, I'm in the church stopping Michael from keeping you. I'm working through my hangups with possession but it's complicated. Because without Lucifer and his obsession with me... I wouldn't be here and neither would you." Sam hesitates at Dean's silence.

Then Dean reaches over and grabs Sam's hand. He doesn't let go until for a long while.

=== 4.4 - Grace ===

They beat Cas and Mary back to the Bunker. "In here!" they hear Alex call, and they find Jack on the cot in the med bay, along with Rowena, Jody, and Claire.

"That's it?" Sam remarks, spotting the small vial of archangel grace that Ketch had delivered.

When Cas arrives, he prepares to extract Michael's grace from Dean. "It's gonna smart," Sam warns, taking his hand.

"I've had worse. Hit me," Dean says, before screaming and lurching up as the grace starts to fill the syringe. Mary and Jody help hold him down.

Dean is shivering after the procedure, but flashes a thumbs up.

"Sam?" Cas holds up a second syringe. "You don't have to," Cas offers, quietly.

"Thanks, Cas," Sam says, but motions for him to continue anyway.

The pain flares up bright and caustic. It hurts, but the grace that is leaving him is Lucifer's, so being able to have it removed feels like a small victory.

Rowena frowns when she sees the meager amount of grace they managed to pool together. "Boys, I hope you understand that I'm a witch, not a miracle worker."

"Rowena, please..." Cas begs.

She sighs, then pours the grace over Jack's body and starts chanting.

[MORE]