A/N: I realized I haven't attempted a multi-chapter story in a long time. I kept telling myself for a while that I just couldn't do it anymore. Them's fightin' words, past me. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Forgive me if I make any mistake in any of the Charmed parts. I've watched it with my friends, but I have yet to actually watch it all the way through, like I have with Supernatural. I'm going to get one of my friends to help me out with what I'm missing, but until then, bear with me.

Here goes nothing.

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The thunderous crack peirced her ears drums, shocking her from her vivid dream. Pheobe Halliwell shot up in bed, gasping for air. Taking a moment to calm down and remember where she was, Pheobe shook her head and carefully slipped out of bed. Quickly menouvering down the creaky stairwell, she tiptoed into the kitchen. The time on the stove read 2:46am, much to her chargin.

As a psychic, Pheobe had long ago grown accustomed to her visions, but this one... it was just bizzare. It wasn't that she had never met that guy before, which she hadn't, it was just so completely vivid, like she was there at that second. A chill ran down her spine. Knowing sleep would now evade her, she set herself to making some herbal tea to help knock her out.

Cutting off the stove under the kettle just before it whistled, Pheobe began pouring the water into her mug- only to let it crash to the floor when the flutter of wings caused her heart to leap out of her chest. She gasped sharply, now face to face with a man with short, messy black hair and a tan trench coat, staring at her coldly.

"I need to speak with Leo." He stated, in a gravely voice.

Before she could say a word, the familiar glow of a whitelighter appeared beside the man, slowly forming the figure of the Halliwell guardian, and her brother-in-law. Leo looked at the man with no attempt to hide his surprise. "Castiel?"

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God friggin dammit. They would never catch a break would they?

It had been a relatively normal day, driving across a few states to get back to Bobby's. They had been on a hunt jujst outside of Sacramento, and were heading back to South Dakota for some much needed R&R. Sam and Dean drove in the Impala, while Bobby trailed in his pick-up, all quiet and peacefull on the front. But now, here they were, tricked into stopping to help some poor bastard whose car was broken down on the side of the road. After Dean and Bobby fixed it up, the man and thanked them, and offered to buy them a beer at the local bar. Taking him up on his offer, figuring they'd just stay at a motel after, they followed him through a dirt road in the woods, only to end up at a dead end. The man had then gotten out of his car, taken a gun out, and ordered them to get out as well.

He was smart about it too, telling them to place any weapons they had on the ground, and firing a warning shot when they tried to pull them out on him, then leading them further into the woods and away from the cars and weapons. Dean would never let himself live down the fact that he had been so easily duped. And duped by a "hunter" no less.

Gregory Serick, a hunter for 10+ years, and a good friend of non other than a hunter named Gordon- make that former hunter. They should have assumed that Gordon had spread the word about his "Sam Winchester Must Die" campain before he went vamp, and this was exactly why. Serick had made it his mission in life ever since Gordon's death to find Sam Winchester and kill him, bringing "world order" as he liked to justify it.

"Alright, we get it, you're upset about Gordon, just put the gun down." Dean said slowly yet strongly, taking a cautious step forward.

Greg cocked his gun, the safety clicking, echoing into the empty night. "I said not another step!" He shouted, keeping the nozzle of his gun pointed at the youngest Winchester.

Dean retracted his step, raising his hands to show no harm. But this wasn't giving up, no, this was rethinking a plan. Gregory was a hunter, there was no way that any routine manover would work on him, so what other choices were left? Talking wasn't his strongest point but... "Okay, okay, you have the control here man. Just think about what you are doing here."

A wild fire glazed over his beady eyes. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm putting this monster in it's place!" He proclaimed, spuing madness.

"Take it easy!" Dean commanded. His eyes connected for a moment with his brother's, the sight enough to break him. Sam's eyes were enough to tell every emotion raging in his mind, all summed up in a storm of fear and disbeleif. Why was he always called a monster? He had done nothing wrong, was only the unwilling pawn in another's cruel game. Innocence that Dean didn't know still existed in Sam surfaced on his face, anxiety rolling off of him with every heavy breath he took. For once, Sam was scared, after everything they faced this is what scared him; an insane human with a vendeta and a gun. He gave Dean a pleading, appologetic tilt of the head before turning his attention to the barrel pointing at his chest.

But all of that took place in a single moment, and that was all it took for Greg to snap. Without so much as a word, he pulled the trigger, releasing a thunderous crack to fill the air, followed by an agonizing scream from Sam. Thrown back from the force, he collapsed to the ground, blinding pain overtaking every nerve in his body. It hurt so much more than it should...

"Sam!" Dean shouted, dashing in a futile attempt to catch him. Letting Bobby run after Greg, he skidded to his knees beside where Sam and fallen on his side, curled into himself. Dean rolled him onto his back, using both hands to pry Sam's arms away from the scarlet stain on his shirt. "Shit, Sammy! Sam, look at me, alright? You keep your eyes on me, right here." He ordered as he began shedding his jacket from his shoulders. He pressed the fabric to his brother's abdoment, where blood leaked out with no mercy. "You're alright, got that? You're going to be fine, Sam. Just fine. I'm gonna take care of you. Sam? Sammy!" He called out desperately. Sam's eyes had a glazed look to them as he stared up past Dean's panic striken face; it scared the shit out of him.

Neither noticed Bobby running out of the woods and landing on the unoccupied side of the fallen brother. "Shit, he's gone into shock." He cursed. "Dean, let me take over there, you need to bring him out of it, he'll respond better to you."

Dean nodded numbly, not releasing pressure on the jacket until Bobby had it firmly in his hands. He then shifted himself clumsilty in his haste so that he could lean over and place his hands on Sam's cheeks. "Hey, hey, hey, come on, look at me Sammy. You have to focus, alright? Focus right here, right on your big brother." His voice trembling, he wiped the hair from Sam's face, keeping his palm on his forehead. "Sam? Sam, you've gotta work with me here man, show me you're with us."

After a moment in which his heart stopped in waiting, Sam groaned, his eyes blinking rapidly before squeezing shut, his teeth clenching. "D'n..." He muttered.

"That's it Sammy, I'm right here." He forced a smile in an effort to put of a facade of bravery. But the facade shattered when Sam let out a cry of pain, his body lurching under the pressure on the wound. Dean cried out into the night, calling the heavens to hear him. "Castiel!" His voice broke. "Cas, get your ass down here!" He shouted desperately. The flutter of wings was brought to his ears, drawing his eyes up from his brother to where the renegade angel now stood, just a few feet away.

At first, his face remained stoic, as it usually was, but at the sight of his friends huddled around Sam, his eyebrows drew together. He walked with a quick step to them, movements fluid with the grace he posesed as an angel. He kneeled beside Dean. "What happened ?" He asked, voice gruff.

"He was shot, now save him!" Dean barked.

Castiel nodded, reaching out to touch Sam's forehead with two fingers in blind confidence that he could fix anything. He paused, retracting his hand with a frown, worry leaking slightly over his face.

"Cas, what are you doing? Heal him, now!" Dean demanded.

"I cannot heal him..." Castiel mused.

"What the hell do you mean-"

"Something more is going on here, Dean." Castiel stated firmly, turning toward the eldest Winchester. "I do not have the ability to heal him. But I know some people who might be able to help. I will go ahead and find them, get Sam in your car and start driving south. Hurry." The sound of wings flapping away was heard, only this time in a quicker and more purposeful pace.

Dean cursed under his breath, before he scooped up his sasquatch of a brother into his arms and began the treck back through the woods. He went as fast as he could without jostling his brother, although sometimes it could be helped, earning a sharp his from the bleeding man. Seeing the Impala through the treeline was a godsent. Bobby ran ahead, opening the door so Dean could deposit Sam onto the backseat. Dean reached into his pockets and tossed Bobby the keys without hesitation, as he jumped in the back with Sam.

The car roared to life, jolted forward, and Bobby navigated his way south. Dean sat pressed up against the door to give his brother more room, Sam's head on his lap, while he kept one hand running through his long brown hair in comfort, and one hand keeping pressure on the jacket. "Keep him talking." Bobby urged, glancing at the brothers from the rear-view mirror.

Dean nodded. "You hangin' there Sam?" He asked, his voice projecting to keep Sam's attention.

"Mhm." Sam mumbled.

Dean rubbed his thumb over Sam's forehead in soothing circles. "Alright, just hold on, okay? We're going to get you all fixed up, nothing to worry about. Hey, as long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you, right?"

Sam gave a breathy laugh, his eyes still shut."Y'used to say th't all th'time."

Dean smiled despite himself. "Damn right, Sammy. Now, uh, what do you want to eat once you're good as new? Because until then, we're goin to have to put all of your food in a blender."

"D'n." Sammy slipped a weak grin through his laboured breaths.

"Oh, I mean it. We'll even give you a swirlly straw. How does burger, milkshake and fries all smushed together sound?"

"J'rk."

"Bitch."

Sam laughed for a moment before his face was overtaken by a grimace. "D'n, th'rs s'omthing else n'the bull't. S'spreading cold 'nd-" He was cut off by a sharp, shrill scream, his body lurching on the seat, before curling in on itself, his face contorted tighter than before.

"Sam?" Dean shouted in worry. "S'okay Sammy, you're fine." His eyes shot to the rear view mirror. "Bobby, drive faster." He commanded, panic flooding his tone.

"We don't even know where we're going Dean, I'm trying." Bobby said firmly, gripping the stearing wheel so tightly his kuckles had long since turned white.

XXXXXXXXXX

Feet moved quickly on the floor above them, rushing to see what was going on. Piper and Paige raced down the stairwell in their night clothes, half ready for a fight, half asleep. What served to wake them up was the strange man standing in the kitchen, with an unreadable expression on his face as he gazed up at Leo, who looked at him in surprise.

"What's going on down here?" Paige asked, lack of sleep present in her voice.

"I-I don't know..." Leo admitted.

"Okay..." Piper sighed, walking to stand beside her husband. "And who may I ask are you?" She asked as folded her arms.

"My name is Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord." He stated, rehersed.

"Another whitelighter?" Paige asked, glancing at Leo.

Leo shook his head. "No, he's an actual angel. But, Castiel, what are you doing here?"

Turning his full attention back to Leo, Castiel paused, before answering. "A friend of mine as been mortally wounded, and I've found myself unable to heal him. Something is draining my power,. I need to ask for your help, brother." He said earnestly.

"Of course, Castiel. I owe you that much." Leo nodded. With a simple nod of acknowledgement, Castiel disapeared with the flapping of wings and a gust of wind that passed so quickly, you'd have missed it if you blinked. The three sisters looked around in confusion, before turning back to their protector. "He does that." Leo sighed.

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With all the tension in the car, accompanied by Sam's frequent cries of pain, no one paid any surprise to the sudden appearance of Cas in the passanger seat. In his hands, he held an address scribbled on a scrap peice of paper. "1329 Prescott Street, San Fransisco. Take us there. We're not far." He said, handing the paper to Bobby. Castiel sat completely stiff in his seat, staring out the front window, with the same distant look he always had plastered on his face. But he couldn't ignore Sam's wimpers and cries, he hesitantly glanced at the back seat. "How is he fairing?" He asked, ever socially awkward.

"Peachy, what does it look like, Cas?" Dean spat on behalf of his little brother, whose head he cradled in his lap.

Cas frowned, averting his gaze for a moment. "...I'm sorry I couldn't heal him, Dean."

Dean huffed. "I know. It's not your fault Cas."

Satisfied that Dean understood, he turned around, and focused his eyes on the road once again. Soon enough, the San Fransisco skyline came into view, and Dean felt just a little bit hopeful, a smile blooking on his face. "See that Sammy, we're almost there, just a little longer and we'll get you all fixed up." He grinned falsely down at him, only to let the mask drop when he saw Sam's eyes closed. "Sam?" He called, tapping the side of his face with the hand that wasn't putting pressure on the wound. His heart dropped when Sam didn't respond. "Sam? Sammy!"

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Aannnddd I think I'll leave it there. I haven't attempted a multi-chapter story in a while, and I miss leaving readers with cliffhangers. Ah, the torture, it's delicious.