Fallen Heroes

Chapter Four: Stitches

Sam and I flashed back to the bunker, appearing in the library in a blink of an eye. I looked around for her familiar face, but all I could see were pile after pile of old books.

"Charlie? Gabriel?" I asked. Sam and I exchanged glances when we didn't hear a reply. "Sammy, try to locate them."

"How? By licking my finger to see which direction they went?" Sam crossed his arms.

I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. "Use the angel radio, college boy."

"But I don't know how," he protested. "Cas never taught me that."

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of Cas' name. "Just try, Sammy. Please."

Sighing, my brother closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Where are you, you son of a bitch?" he mumbled to himself. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, his grace sparking. "I know where they are."

I blinked and Sam was gone. "Sam? Sammy?" I called. He didn't answer. "SAM?"

He reappeared a moment later, toting a bloody body in his arms and a figure clinging to his leg. She let go of Sam's leg when she cracked open her eyes to see that she was in the bunker. "Dean?"

"Charlie!" I gasped, slamming her into a hug. She laughed and hugged me back. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. It's all my fault, if I hadn't-" I yelped in surprise when I felt a sharp pang in my back. "What was that?!"

She smirked. "Got your attention, didn't it? And it was my way of saying that I forgive you, Dean. It's not your fault."

"It is," I protested. "The Mark, the Book, your death... It's all because of me."

"Not to interrupt, but Dean, I could use you help. Like, now," Sam said.

I had been so absorbed in the fact that Charlie was back that I completely forgot about Sam and whomever he was holding. Running to my brother, I finally recognized who was in his arms.

The Trickster. From the looks of him, the only way out of Heaven was through a cheese grater. Large cuts ran the length of his body, his red shirt turning black. Small streaks of blood lined his face, making it look like he was crying blood.

"Sammy, get him to a room. Charlie, go grab the first aid. Cas, follow..." I trailed off. "Me," I finished quietly. But I didn't have time to wallow in my own self pity. "Go," I said.

Charlie nodded and ran to the cupboard of first aid supplies, while Sam and I ran to a guest room. While we were cutting apart his shirt, Charlie came back. "Here," she said, breathlessly handing me the box.

"Thanks," I said. "Here, Sam," I handed him a towel to start cleaning up the blood. He took it from me and started to identify the source of the blood.

"Dean," he pointed to the deepest cut that stretched across the archangel's stomach. "This needs stitches right now."

"On it," I replied, already pulling out the needle. Sam stood back to give me better access to the wound, my hands working quickly with dozens of practices underneath my belt.

As soon as I moved away, Sam swooped back in, piling gauze on the freshly sutured wounds. We moved like clockwork, carefully stitching Gabriel back into one piece.

Once we had finished, we headed to the bathroom to wash up. As I watched the blood swirl down the drain, I thought back to the way Cas looked when I brought him home.

Compared to his dark hair, his skin was a faded white, the traces of red that lined his cheeks the only color his skin held. And it was all my fault.

I sighed and turned off the water, making my way back to where Charlie and Gabriel were. "What happened?" I asked her.

She pursed her lips. "He found me in my Heaven..."