Final chapter! But there's more Raising Hell verse on the way after this! First though, I have a few request fics that I will be posting next.

Also, I'm offering commissions now over on my Tumblr (at lady-wallace) Which make good Christmas gifts for yourself or a friend, just saying ;)

Chapter Five

Sam swam up from the fuzzy depths of unconsciousness, finally becoming aware of his surroundings.

Something shifted next to him and a moment of panic shot through him; the last thing he remembered was fighting against the Shedim, being overcome, covered by the writhing bodies…

He groaned, lashing out, but could barely raise a hand. A whine sounded and something wet and hot dragged across his face.

"Hey, stop that!"

The familiar chiding voice brought Sam fully awake, prying his eyes open and blinking several times to stare at his blurry surroundings. Dean was leaning over his bed, and his brother's face was soon joined on his other side by a doggish one with glowing red eyes.

"Mm, D'n," Sam murmured, mouth dry.

Dean's face broke into a relieved grin, cupping the side of Sam's face before remembering the hellhound slobber on it, and drawing back with a slight wince. "Sammy, how are you feeling?"

"Crappy," Sam croaked. "Can…wat'r?"

Dean hurried away and came back soon after with a glass of water. He raised Sam's head and pressed it to his lips. Sam drank greedily until Dean pulled it away all too soon.

"Easy. You gotta get hydrated but you shouldn't make yourself sick."

"Wha' happn'd?" Sam murmured, feeling a little better after the water.

Dean sighed and sat carefully on the side of the bed. "The Shedim attacked you, bit you. Apparently their saliva is poison to demons or something, and since part of you is demon now…well, you can figure it out. Anyway, Cas and I cleaned up that mess with Wheatly, Winston and some of the other demons. Meanwhile your royal highness got to rest his lily-white hands in bed while his subjects did all the work."

Sam scoffed. But he could see the harried strain in Dean below the teasing and knew it must have been bad. Sam knew his shoulder hurt pretty badly, but that wasn't so important right now. "The Shedim are back in their prison?"

"Yeah, hopefully for good this time," Dean told him.

"You ever find out how they got out in the first place?" Sam asked, eyes already starting to droop again despite his best efforts.

"Best we can figure, someone let them out," Dean said, then seemed to notice his struggle with consciousness. "But you don't need to worry about that right now. We'll talk about it later. Just rest, okay? Get better?"

Sam murmured, unable to protest. Dean stood and wrapped his blanket tighter around him. Juliet nudged her way up next to him, resting her snout in his armpit and Sam threw his arm around her, comforted by her presence, before he drifted off.

When he woke again, it was to Cas sitting and reading by his bedside.

"Hey," he murmured as he saw the angel.

Cas looked up in surprise, setting his book aside, and smiled, seeming just as relieved as Dean had been. "Sam, I'm glad to see you awake."

Sam frowned as him, noticing Cas was wearing what looked to be one of Dean's long-sleeved shirts. "What happened to your trench coat?"

The angel's lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, Dean would call it karma. It got ruined in the fight with the Shedim."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Cas nodded. "Scratches mostly. They're healing, but Dean told me I had to stay and heal while he saw to business." He rolled his eyes. "Though I did want to be here when you woke up again anyway." He stood up rather stiffly, the creases in the corners of his eyes betraying his pain. "You should eat something. Do you think you could manage some soup?"

Sam nodded. "Probably."

Cas left the room and soon returned with a mug of soup for Sam and a bowl of food for Juliet. The hellhound made her way down to the floor to eat her own meal as Cas helped Sam sit up. Sam watched Juliet limping and noticed her bandaged side for the first time. He realized then that she must have been injured trying to protect him from the Shedim.

"Will Juliet be all right?" he had to ask.

"She'll be fine, Sean says she's healing well," Cas said and handed Sam the mug of soup. His hands were a little shaky, but he cupped them around the mug and drank the broth straight from that. It was good, and he felt a little better after drinking it.

Cas took his mostly empty mug away and nodded to his shoulder. "Do you mind if I check your wound? It's probably time to change the bandage."

Sam nodded his consent and pulled down the shoulder of the robe he was wearing so Cas could access his bandages.

Cas peeled the bandage away and seemed to exhale in relief. "Well, it is healing, so that's fortunate."

Sam glanced toward his shoulder with a wince, and saw a puckered mess of pink scabs that would likely scar terribly. Memories of the Shedim's teeth sinking into his flesh came back to him and he fought the urge to shudder. "It was worse than this?" he asked wryly.

Cas didn't seem to find any humor in it though, and looked away to reach for more bandages. "It was a lot worse. And…and I was not able to heal you."

Sam sobered, recognizing the pain in the angel's face. "Cas, you know it doesn't matter if you can heal us or not—"

"It matters to me," the angel cut in sharply before he inhaled deeply, shaking his head. "You and Dean are all I have, and even with your new powers, if I can no longer heal you…you may be stronger but you're not invincible. What if there's some injury you sustain that we can't fix with an antidote? What if I have to stand by and watch one of you die because I'm no longer able to heal you with the demonic influence in your blood? This is one of the reasons I was so against this in the first place."

Sam reached out and gripped Cas' wrist before the angel could apply the new bandage. "Cas, I understand, trust me, I do. I know how hard it is to stand by and not be able to do anything for the people you care about, but that doesn't change anything between us. We still need you for you, Cas, you're our brother, and I know I can't do this without you or Dean." He smiled. "And who knows? Someday you may find a way to heal us after all."

Cas didn't look convinced, but he did seem to calm a little bit, pressing the fresh gauze to Sam's shoulder and taping it in place. "I'm sorry I went off like that. I know it doesn't matter to you and Dean, and yet…I worry." He shook his head. "You two have such a bad habit of getting into the worst trouble."

Sam chuckled. "Well, you are right about that. But I hope we may be able to do better. And we have more support now too. Allies I never expected to have."

Cas nodded in agreement if not a bit reluctantly, and they both looked up as they heard the main door to the suite open, hailing Dean's return.

"Hey," the elder brother said, peeking into Sam's room and then entering as he saw he was awake. Wheatly followed and bowed slightly to Sam.

"Your Majesty, it is good to see you up," he said sincerely.

Sam smiled as Cas helped to pull his robe back over his shoulders. "Thanks, Wheatly. Is everything going okay out there?"

Dean was carrying a box which he set on the desk in the corner of the room. "Yeah, so far. Shedim are sealed up, all the stragglers have been taken care of and the gates to Pandemonium have been repaired and reinforced. We'll be keeping a double guard watching over it for a while."

He sighed as he rested his hip against Sam's desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "We just gotta figure out who let those bastards out in the first place."

Sam frowned and opened his mouth to discuss more about that subject when there was a knock at the suite door and Wheatly went to open it.

He returned a moment later with Winston who bowed to Sam as well.

"Your Majesty," he said. "I apologize for interrupting you now, but we have important news."

"What is it?" Dean demanded, straightening up.

"While we were repairing the Pandemonium gate, we discovered a body stuffed into a crack in the rocks a little way away from it."

Dean frowned. "A body? What kind of body?"

"The missing guard, Dennis," Winston said grimly.

"On our side of the gate?" Cas asked, brow furrowing.

Winston nodded. "Yes."

"What the hell?" Dean muttered. "But if he had opened the seal in Pandemonium, I would think he would end up dead there. And if by some miracle the Shedim didn't eat him the instant he broke the seal, why didn't he just bolt? He would have known we would have found out what really happened eventually."

"Exactly, Master Winchester," Winston said. "Which is why we are certain someone put him there on purpose."

"So either we've got a traitor," Dean muttered. "Or someone who's really good at disguises." He turned to Winston. "See if there's anything else you can find out. Question the guard—maybe they saw something that day that was out of place."

"Yes, sir," Winston said and left the rooms again.

Sam turned to Wheatly. "Wheatly, is there any way an outsider could have gotten past the guards?"

The steward shook his head. "Not unless he was in disguise as Master Winchester said, Your Majesty."

Sam frowned at this. "Then what do we know of that can do that besides a shapeshifter?"

"We don't know," Dean replied. "But we need to find out fast. I have a feeling this is just the beginning."

Wheatly looked like he was considering something. "I can look in the archives, see if there's anything that might help."

"Good," Dean said.

The steward left and the three stared at each other silently for a long moment. Sam licked his lips and finally voiced the thought he knew they were all considering.

"You don't think it's…him, do you?" he asked.

"No," Dean said firmly. "Lucifer is in a whole other dimension, busting his ass in someone else's apocalypse. Besides, do you really think he'd bother with all this?"

Sam knew Dean was right, and felt better for thinking it. However, that still begged the question: who the hell was responsible?

"Anyway, we've got a situation to figure out—what else is new?" Dean said and turned to grab the box he had brought into the room earlier, handing it to Cas. "Here. This is for you."

Cas frowned as he took the box, looking confused. "For me? Why?"

"You'll see when you open it," Dean said and turned to Sam with a wink. "Happy birthday."

"It's…not my birthday."

"Just open the box," Dean insisted.

Cas pulled the lid off cautiously as if afraid that what was inside was going to bite him, but it was just a pile of black fabric. He set the box on the chair and pulled out a trench coat just like his old one but in black.

"Told you I'd get you a new coat," Dean told him proudly.

"It's black," Cas observed.

"Yeah, well, I thought you should match our new color scheme."

Cas narrowed his eyes at him for a second, though cast an interested look at the coat. Dean rolled his eyes and snagged it, motioning for Cas to turn around so he could help him into it to make it easier on his wounds. "You can still wear the white shirt and blue tie if it makes you feel better."

Cas shifted his shoulders in the coat, and Sam smiled. "I think it looks badass, Cas."

The angel cocked his head to one side and turned to the mirror in one corner of Sam's room. "I…suppose it does."

"You never said that about my coat," Dean grumbled. "You just called it lame."

"I believe 'overcompensating' was the word he used, Dean," Cas said.

"Okay, you don't need to join in! And for the record, I have nothing to overcompensate for."

Sam shared a look with Cas, as Dean turned on his heel, muttering about needing a drink, and angels being ungrateful when receiving gifts, but Sam was glad of the short interlude of levity.

He had a feeling something big was coming and he was sure they were somehow caught right in the middle of it.

Near the Hellgate, stood a man in a white suit, demons at his back. He looked up as the wind blew through his hair—it was a wind of change, a change that he would bring.

Soon, Hell would finally have a worthy ruler again. No more of these pretenders; an actual heir to Hell would, once again, be sitting on the throne.

"My lord, shall we do this?" asked one of the demons, and the man could practically feel his impatience.

"No," he spoke. "Not quite yet. Let them think they're safe for a little while. Let them get comfortable. When I strike, they're not going to see me coming until it's too late." A slow grin spread across his face, and his eyes flashed yellow. "And then I'm going to do what my siblings failed to do—bring the Winchester brothers to their knees for good."

To be continued in: King of the Damned