Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Though I might have taken a bit of creative liberty with the mechanics of angelic healing.

Sam and Rowena appeared in the bunker surrounded by a mess of smoke, but Dean wasted no time getting to his brother and gripping his arms, if only to reassure himself that Sam was truly there.

"Sammy," Dean said.

He didn't really know what to follow that up with. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but now that he finally had the chance, his mind became blank.

"Dean," he said. He had a weary half-smile, but Dean was just glad they were able to be in the same room again.

Sam looked awful (even ignoring his desperate need for a shave, a haircut, and a shower), which didn't help him with debating what to say, and Dean was glad he took Crowley's suggestion to clean up himself before Sam arrived. After seeing him, there was no way Dean was going to take time to care for himself.

Dean pulled Sam into a hug, which was quickly returned. "Man, am I glad to see you again, Sammy."

Crowley cleared his throat, drawing their attention to himself. "You might want to call your pet angel and tell him that his distraction is no longer required. And with that, my presence here is no longer needed. I have better things to do, like find a way to successfully re-cage Lucifer once and for all."

Rowena didn't take long to follow her son's lead. "Next time you contact me, make sure it's because you need me to help with Lucifer, and nothing else. I'm sick of all this nonsense," she said before she left.

Dean returned his attention to Sam, and Sam gave him a nod, letting him know that he would be okay for the minute it took to call Cas. And maybe Sam believed that he would be okay, but Dean believed that he looked like he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion (and maybe pain based on the lines on his face and the way his breathing hitched on occasion). The dark circles under his eyes were far too reminiscent of when Sam was sleep deprived due to The Devil never leaving him alone for Dean's taste.

But Cas playing distraction wasn't an idea he liked either.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said. "Just call Cas before anything happens."

"Castiel," Dean called. "Castiel, we're back at the bunker. More or less intact."

Dean expected Cas to appear as quickly as he normally did, but it took more than a minute for him to arrive and say "Hello, Dean" in his usual monotonous voice. Dean spun his attention towards him to ask what took so long, and demand that he take a look at Sam, who could use an angelically induced nap at the very least.

But he didn't expect his mother to be right next to Cas, clutching one hand over her bleeding arm.

"Mom?" Dean asked.

Cas healed her arm with a simple, effortless touch.

She gave them a small smile. "It was just a graze," she said. "But I'm glad that you both got out before they managed to get a good shot in."

Her smile faded quickly once she looked at Sam from over his shoulder. "Are you okay, Sam?" she asked.

Dean faced Sam again, who looked paler than before. His eyes kept darting around the room at random, but they never seemed to focus on any one thing. It wasn't until he pressed down on his right hand that Dean noticed he'd been cradling it.

And then that he noticed it looked pretty far from normal.

Dean grabbed Sam's right hand and pulled it away from the obsessive pressure Sam kept applying to it, and he didn't fail to notice the wince that Sam tried to hide.

"Jesus, Sam," he said. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"

"Pain used to make him go away," Sam said.

"Did it this time?"

Sam shook his head.

Dean sighed. He feared as much, but it was worse than he thought if Sam was pushed to the point of damaging his hand that badly. They might have escaped prison, but there was a part of Sam that was still trapped somewhere far away.

Cas came over and took a look at Sam's hand, but Dean didn't like his frown.

"Cas, what's wrong?"

"The bones in his hand are severely displaced," Cas said.

"So, fix them," Dean said.

"I heal injuries as they are, Dean," Cas said. "If I were to heal Sam's hand as is, it would keep its current shape even if the bones are once again connected."

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean asked. "You never mentioned that before."

"It's never been a problem before, Dean. Sam's hand has been like this for days, at least. I am usually able to heal your wounds relatively close to when they've been received, and I've always been able to heal the broken bones before they were severely displaced."

"So, what? We have to set them first?" Dean asked.

"If you want me to be able to properly heal his hand, then yes."

"We aren't that far from a clinic," Mary added in. She looked a little pale, but Dean wasn't sure if it was from being shot or from seeing Sam's hand. "I passed it when I… when I left."

Maybe in another situation, the hesitance and slight regret in her voice would have had Dean giving her reassurances that they understood why she left, and maybe they were a little hurt at first, but they forgave her.

But now wasn't the time for dealing with familial rifts. It was the time for fixing physical wounds, then psychological wounds because Sam was clearly suffering from some.

"There's no way we can go to a clinic," Dean said.

"What?" Mary asked. "Dean, you heard Castiel. He needs a real doctor to set the bones in his hand if we want it healed properly."

"We just escaped a high-security prison for the worst of the worst criminals. When they find out we're gone, our faces are going to be on every media source in the freaking world. And we probably were already all over the news after we were first arrested. And this isn't the first time that we would be on the most wanted list," Dean said. "I don't think we can show our faces in a public building anytime soon without being arrested again, so seeing a doctor is really not an option here."

"You do it, Dean," Sam said.

Dean almost felt bad that this was the first time Sam participated in the conversation that was about him, being carried on as though he weren't there. "I'm not a doctor, man, and if I screw this up…"

If he screwed up, Sam's usability for his right hand was at stake, something which was pretty useful when their job involved handling weapons on a regular basis and in life or death situations.

"Just get as close as you can," Sam said. "Let Cas heal it, and if it's still a problem we'll go to a hospital when we can show our faces again and get it re-broken and set properly."

Sam made it sound easy, like it was the simplest option available to them and not a big deal in the slightest. But maybe it wasn't a big deal to him. Hell, he just spent weeks locked up with Lucifer as constant company.

It looked like it was taking everything Sam had to stay focused enough on what needed to be done, and the sooner Dean did it, the sooner he could work on sorting out the rest of Sam.

"Fine," Dean said.

They made their way to a table, Dean assuming that a flat surface would prove invaluable here. The eyes of his mother and Cas focused on him were as disconcerting as the knowledge that he would be feeling his brother's bones shift and he would be the cause of it.

"Come on, Dean," Sam urged.

Dean had never set any bones before, but he had to give Sam credit for not making any sound beyond sharp gasps when the bones displaced the farthest were forcibly moved by Dean. He wasn't sure if he could have done it had Sam cried out due to the pain that he caused.

Dean felt that it was going to be a long night for all of them.

At the end Sam's hand didn't look perfect, but it seemed to function well enough that he could handle weapons and it wouldn't be putting him in danger. Which, when Dean thought about it, was the most he could ask for.

But Sam's mental status rapidly deteriorated by the minute. He lost focus on what he was doing and had a distant look in his eyes like he didn't even know where he was. By the time he started mumbling incoherently under his breath and flinching away from unseen threats, Dean had to ask Cas to put Sam to sleep a little earlier than he originally planned.

Sam was seeing things, even without Lucifer's intervention. Unless Lucifer found Rowena's trick, which Crowley filled him in on with what he called a simplified explanation, earlier than they expected. Dean wasn't sure which option he preferred, not when they both left Sam questioning reality.

Dean ran a hand down his face. Sam was completely at peace in his sleep, probably for the first time in far too long. With how long it took to set his hand, Dean only managed to get Sam to take a shower and shave (with Dean hovering to make sure he didn't cut himself on accident) before his mind wasn't functioning enough for anything other than sleeping. They both needed a few good meals to put some meat back on their bones, but it looked like they would be waiting until morning to start working on that.

Mary came in with a few cups of coffee, giving one to Dean and setting the one meant for Sam off to the side. "So, he won't be waking up until morning?" she asked.

"I really hope not," Dean said. "He needs the sleep, and he needs it to not be riddled with nightmares. How's the arm?"

"It was just a graze in the first place, and it's perfectly fine now," she said. "I have so much I have to apologize to you boys for, but I wanted Sammy to be awake for it, too."

"We get it, Mom. Maybe I was a little angry at you for a while, but some people helped me understand why you had to leave," Dean said. "You don't have to apologize."

"I'd still like to. You know, you boys really scared me by disappearing."

Dean pulled the chair in Sam's room next to the bed before sitting and propping his feet up. Mary took a seat at the foot of the bed, still keeping a bit of distance.

"Sorry about that," Dean said. "But believe me when I say that getting arrested was not part of the plan."

"I would hope not. I came here because I thought it was finally time to get to know my boys and be a family again, but I only found Castiel."

"Well, the room you used is still yours if you want it," Dean said.

"Are you planning on using your room tonight?" she asked.

Dean shook his head. He wasn't ready to be separated from Sam again so soon. Not after being apart for so long. Not after knowing Sam needed him back at the prison and he couldn't be there.

"Then, do you mind some company?" she asked.

Dean shook his head again.

Mary smiled and took the coffee cup meant for Sam as her own. There was a lot that they had to talk about, but they didn't say much. It could all wait.

Lucifer still walked the earth, the intentions of the British Men of Letters remained a mystery to them, and Sam was unstable again.

But they were out of prison, and their mom came home to them. They could deal with the rest of it together.

Lucifer felt the guard's body pulling apart at the seams trying to contain his presence, but he wouldn't need it for long.

Sam was usually very affected by the simplest mental torment, but recently nothing he did seemed to be getting through to Sam. There was an emptiness to Sam's presence in the cell. He was there, but it felt like he wasn't. Not fully, at least.

Lucifer flew into Sam's cell and found it empty except for evidence of a witch's spell. It took him less than a minute to find Sam's pillow cut open and stuffed with an unusual hex bag.

Once the hex bag disintegrated into ashes in his hand, Sam's presence in the cell disintegrated with it.

"Rowena," he said.

The prison started to shake and crumble under the force of Lucifer's anger, his yell inhuman and echoing through the halls. By the time his vessel was destroyed, the prison had already been reduced to ruins, along with all of its occupants.

Let the Winchesters plot against him. Let them team up with Rowena and Crowley. Let them find a way to shove him back in his cage. Soon his child would roam the world, stronger than he could imagine. Strong enough that he hoped they would be able to release him into the world again, if need be.

Until then, if Lucifer was being put back into his cage, he was determined to drag Sam back into Hell with him.

Author's Note: And end! We took care of some loose ends (and maybe created a few), but I felt like this story is something that could make up 1-2 episodes worth of content and while unlikely, isn't too far-fetched.

A huge thank you to all of the love you guys have given this story! I never expected it to be popular, and I never expected to extend it beyond a one-shot. Since this is the last chapter, please leave a review and let me know what you thought.