Welcome to the long-ago promised continuation/rework of Consequences. The only changes made in this chapter to the original Consequences post are small edits. The next two will work basically the same way but we'll have some new content coming at the end in C4 and then from there on it will all be new.

Thank you Jenjoremy for doing the original beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading. Any mistakes that remain now are my own.

Chapter One

Dean was sitting across the table from Sam with a fan of cards in his hand and a wide smile on his face. Sam was feeling content, a sensation that felt strange to him for some reason that he couldn't pin down. He was sure he was missing something important that teased the fringes of his mind.

Mary came into the room with boxes of pizza in her hands and called, "Soup's on."

"Good timing," Dean said, laying down his cards and grinning wolfishly at Sam. "Full House."

Sam frowned. "I thought we were playing blackjack."

Dean shrugged. "How would I know? It's your dream, man, not mine."

"Dream?"

Dean stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Yeah, dream. How else would I be here?"

"You need to get some sleep, Sam," Mary said solicitously, setting her boxes of pizza on the table and touching his shoulder. "You're exhausted."

"But I'm already sleeping. I must be if this is a dream."

"It is," Dean said. "But you need more sleep. You're never going to find me if you're running on empty."

"Find you?"

Dean stood up and walked around the table to Sam. Sam flinched back, suddenly scared of his brother.

"You have to find me, Sammy. He's hurting me."

"Who's hurting you?"

Dean leaned close and his eyes lit up with blue-white light. "Michael," he said, his voice echoing.

Sam gasped, the memories rushing at him. Lucifer, Jack, Dean, Dean fighting, the blade in his hand, Dean's face, twisted with torment as he growled, "We had a deal!" and then the way he'd straightened up and Sam had been unable to find any sign of his brother in Dean's face.

"You need to hurry, Sam," Mary said, oblivious to his distress. "Your food is getting cold."

Sam jumped to his feet, willing himself to wake up and get away from the dream. Why had they let him sleep? He needed to find Dean. He fisted his hands and punched his own chest, but their faces remained stubbornly there.

"Need help?" Dean asked.

"Yes!" Sam said desperately.

Dean stepped closer and a long blade dropped into his hand. Sam backed away and turned to run, but Michael was too fast. He grabbed Sam's shoulder and held him in place as he drove the blade into Sam's chest over his heart.

"Better?" Mary asked kindly.

Sam felt the dream losing its grip on him and he sighed with relief, despite the pain drilling through his heart. "Yes."

"See you soon, Sammy," Dean said, and then his voice faded along with the shapes of the bunker.

Sam jerked awake with his face pressed against the cool surface of the table. "Dean!" he gasped, straightening up and looking around the room.

"Not yet," Mary sighed.

She was standing beside him, her hand on his back, and Rowena and Castiel were sitting opposite. Rowena was turning the pages of the Book of the Damned with a greedy look on her face—it was almost greedy—and Castiel was flipping through printouts of Charlie's deciphering of the codex.

"Why did you let me sleep?" Sam growled.

"Because you needed to," Mary said. "Jack and Bobby are sleeping, too."

"They can," Sam said. "They're not the ones that are going to get Dean back."

Mary gave him the sad smile that he was growing accustomed to since the search for Dean had started, then walked to the dresser where Sam had set up the coffeemaker. He'd brought it into the library so that he didn't have to keep making trips to the kitchen to get his fix. He felt that every moment spent doing anything that didn't directly lead to getting Dean back was a moment wasted.

She poured Sam a cup of coffee and brought it back to him, patting his shoulder as he took it and drank it down. It was stale and almost cold, but it would do the job.

"Have you found anything yet?" Sam asked Rowena, making no attempt to keep the impatience from his voice.

"Yes."

Sam started. "You have?" He turned to his mother. "And did you still let me sleep!"

"We only just found it," Castiel said. "And we were trying to wake you when you started shouting. What happened?"

"Dream," Sam said then turned his intense stare on Rowena. "What have you found."

"It's a spell called 'Pellere hostem', and it will expel Michael from the vessel."

Mary scowled. "It's not a vessel. It's my son."

"Forgive me for not being more sensitive," Rowena said. "I tend to lose tact when I'm allowed no more than three hours sleep at a time. The spell will expel Michel from Dean."

"That's awesome!" Sam lurched to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do I have to do?"

"You? Nothing. Well, nothing for the spell. I know you and Dean dabble from time to time, but this requires an experienced witch to cast it. Your job is to be the weapon."

Sam's expression darkened. "Weapon?"

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Don't worry yourself, Dean won't be hurt, much, but you're in for a world of hurt. You are going up against an archangel after all. For the spell you have to share blood with him; both literal and metaphorical. You need to injure him enough to draw blood, and then mix it with your own. The metaphorical part is already taken care of, you're brothers, and that's only needed to find him."

"Wait!" Sam held up a hand. "There's a spell to find him? How long have you known about this?"

Rowena tapped her chin. "Well Dean was taken two weeks ago, and I got the book back on a Wednesday, so that would make it 1784."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam shouted.

"Because, against my better instincts, I like you, Sam, and I didn't want to send you off to your death for nothing."

"It's Dean, not nothing, and I could have reached him. I could have reached him like he reached me when Lucifer had me. He could have expelled Michael himself!"

"The chances of that were slim," Castiel said. "That situation was singular. You had honed your mental abilities when you were exorcising demons, and your body was suffused with demon blood. And even then, the odds were against you. We don't even know if Dean is aware of what's happening. Michael could have placed him in a dream like Gadreel did you. You going to him without a plan would have ended in your death. I agreed with Rowena when we all decided not to tell you."

"You all decided!" Sam turned to his mother who stared back at him defiantly. "Did you know?"

"Yes. And I knew it wasn't worth the risk. I'm not risking you on a plan that would only work with a wish and a prayer. Dean wouldn't want that."

"Dean wants his life back!"

"Not at the cost of yours," Castiel said.

Sam pushed his hair back from his face and tried to calm himself. They were wrong to keep this from him, but it was too late to change that now. They had what they needed, finally, and he wasn't going to waste time hanging around arguing when he could be getting Dean back."

"What do we need for the spell?" he asked.

"Things I am sure we have in the stores here and my own personal stash. The Men of Letters kept a good stock of the exotic stuff, and I am always prepared. The one thing that may complicate things a little is grace" She looked at Castiel. "Got any going spare?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "I can give you it all."

"There's no need for that," Rowena said. "We just need enough to power Sam up. You won't be your best self until it replenishes, but you won't be human. Which, as I hear, is a good thing as, according to Fergus, you made a bit of a hash of that last time."

Castiel frowned. "I don't think I was that bad at it."

"Didn't you lose your virginity and then get killed by a reaper?" Rowena asked. "Not to mention your stint as a bag lady."

"I was a man," Castiel said. "And that was nothing to be ashamed of."

"Enough!" Sam snapped. "Rowena, get what we need. Cas, give her the grace."

"Wait!" Mary said, holding up a hand. "What do you mean power Sam up?"

"He's human," Rowena said. "If he goes to Michael with the strength he has now, he will be crushed like a bug. The grace will give him a little boost, and it will allow me to use him as a conduit to the spell. Blood will reach blood. Grace will reach grace. It's quite poetic when you think about it."

"My grace is no match for an archangel though," Castiel said. "Even with my wings and grace. Raphael and Lucifer both blasted me to atoms."

"Then we better hope that doesn't happen again," Rowena said.

"I don't like this," Mary said. "We're relying on Sam being boosted with grace that isn't a match for Michael's, and hoping he won't be exploded him as soon as Michael sees him."

"Dean won't let him kill me," Sam said.

"Dean might not have—" Castiel started, breaking off when Sam held up a hand.

"He won't let him," Sam said confidently. "He would never do that."

Castiel gave him a pointed look. "Like you would never hurt Kevin?"

Sam glared at him. "Screw you, Cas. Get the stuff, Rowena. We're doing this now."

Rowena tapped a page of the book and said, "Okay. You're going to need something to inject the grace into your veins, something sturdy, and a map."

Sam walked from the room and strode to the small clinic to get the syringe stored there. It was in the cupboard he'd put it in after Castiel had tried to draw Gadreel's grace from him to do the tracking spell. He opened the box and saw the stainless-steel chamber and wicked looking needle. Snapping it closed, he left the room then went to his bedroom. He suspected getting away from the bunker without company was going to be a problem, so he needed something to lock down his mother and Castiel. He was sure Rowena would let him go without a fuss. She may like him, but she was a survivor above all, and just because Michael wasn't destined to kill her, Sam was, she wasn't going to risk being immolated by another archangel.

He pocketed the two sets of handcuffs and rushed back into the library where Mary and Castiel were waiting with Bobby who was looking bleary-eyed but interested.

"I heard the ruckus and wondered what was going on," he said in answer to Sam's questioning look. "Mary says you have a plan for Michael."

"For Dean," Sam corrected.

"Same thing, ain't it," Bobby said.

Sam ignored him, setting the box down on the table as Rowena came in with a tray of jars and a copper bowl. Someone had rolled out a map on the table and weighted it with empty beer bottles. Sam took the syringe out and turned to Castiel. "Ready?"

Castiel drew his blade and brought it to his neck.

"Wait a minute," Rowena said. "That's the last ingredient, and the fresher it is, the better."

She began to pour and shake ingredients into the bowl, muttering in Latin. Smoke began to rise, and a purple light glowed.

"Okay, Castiel," she said, holding up a glass vial. "It's your turn."

Castiel drew his blade across his throat, creating a shallow cut that grace bled from. Sam held the vial he'd taken from Rowena under it, and the grace flowed inside, filling it with light. Castiel wiped a hand across his throat and then frowned as the cut remained.

Rowena gave him a sympathetic look. "I suppose you'll need to recharge before you can do that."

"You'll be fine," Sam said dismissively, handing Rowena the grace who tipped it over the bowl. It flowed inside, and the purple light was replaced with blue-white that illuminated the ebbing liquid beneath.

"Give me some blood, Sam," she said. "I need it before it gets mixed with the grace."

Sam took Castiel's blade and cut across his palm and held his hand out to her. She squeezed the heel of his hand, making the blood flow faster, then and lifted it over the map. Blood dripped down and seemed to dilute as it spread over the paper.

"Ready?" she asked and then hesitated. "I feel it's time to remind you all that spells from this book come with consequences. Sometimes cosmic ones. I'm sure we all remember the Darkness."

"There's going to be cosmic consequences?" Bobby asked. "And you all knew that before you started?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam said. "Get on with it."

He opened the box and handed her the syringe. She took it and held her free hand over the bowl and muttered something. The light surged, and she dipped the needle into the bowl and drew the contents up.

"Need help?" Rowena asked, offering Sam the syringe.

"I'm good." He took it from her and jabbed it into his neck. It hurt, but he ignored the pain and pushed it deeper and then depressed the plunger. He felt a burn like acid in his veins as it spread, but he also felt power. It was the same feeling he'd had when he used to drink demon blood. That had always felt wrong though, while this felt right. He dropped the syringe and flexed his hands. The cut across his palm glowed with grace and the wound healed with a faint sting.

A flicker of worry in his gut, Sam asked, "How am I going to get blood if I'm healing like that?"

"You'll just have to make it a little deeper and move a little faster," Rowena said, unconcerned. "Are you ready to find your brother?"

"I just need a moment," Sam said. "Mom, Cas, come with me. There's something I need to tell you."

They followed him into the war room and Sam turned to face them. He took a breath and then struck out with his fist and slammed it into Castiel's temple. The angel frowned, and Sam thought he hadn't done it hard enough, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped hard to the ground.

"What the hell?" Mary started, but Sam was already sweeping a leg under her and catching her before she fell. He lowered her to the floor and snapped a handcuff around her wrist and the table leg screwed into the floor.

Mary cried out in disbelief. "Sam! Get this off me now! What are you doing?"

"You would have tried to follow me," Sam said.

"I wouldn't have followed! I would have come! I will come."

"Exactly. I can't risk that."

He moved away and dragged Castiel to the opposite corner of the table and cuffed his hand to the leg. He turned around and saw Bobby standing in front of him, glowering. "You planning on cuffing me to a table, too?" he asked.

"No."

"Good. Because I wouldn't want to have to hurt you."

"Me either." Sam lied as he threw a punch that knocked Bobby on his ass and made his eyes unfocus and slide shut. "I don't have any cuffs left."

He went back into the library where Rowena was watching him with amusement. "That was impressive," she said. "Castiel was easy, the powered down kitten that he is, but your mother"

"She didn't think I'd do it to her," Sam said.

"She would have kicked your ass if she had."

"I know," Sam said. "But I'm not letting them put themselves in danger. Now, find Dean."

Rowena lit a match and dropped it down over the map. "Viam invenire!" Purple flames ignited the blood as if it was fuel and licked over the map, charring the paper. It concentrated on one spot and then the flames died. She picked up the piece that remained and examined it then handed it to Sam. He saw that the charred piece was marking Duluth, Minnesota.

"You can't nail it down better than that?" he asked.

"I don't need to. You'll feel it when you're close. Just let instinct take over and it will lead you to him."

"Okay. I will. Don't tell them know where I'm going," Sam commanded, walking away toward the door that would lead him to the garage.

Mary was shouting behind him, but Sam blocked out the noise. She would forgive him when he brought Dean back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Rowena called after him.

Sam looked back over his shoulder. "Thank you, Rowena."

"That's nice to hear, but also not what I meant. When you have Dean, pray to Castiel. I'll have the ingredients ready, and when I feel the connection made, I will do the spell. Remember, your blood has to touch his. You're going to need to wound him."

"No problem," he said, picking something up off the shelf and slipping it from his sheath.

"Is that the archangel blade?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You know you can't kill him with that. You're not an archangel."

"That's not why I can't kill him," Sam said, recoiling from the idea. "I just need his blood."

And he would get it. He could feel Castiel's strength flowing through him along with the conviction of knowing he was doing the right thing.

He was getting Dean back.

xXx

Sam stood outside the church and took a deep breath. The blood spell had led him this far, now he needed to go in and find his brother.

The long drive had given him time to think of the problem from every angle, and he'd thought he was ready, but now he was at the point of facing Michael, he was second-guessing himself. What if he did something wrong? If he failed to free Dean now, how would they do it? Would they get a second chance, or would he be lost to them forever? It felt like everything relied on this plan, this spell, and if it went wrong, Dean was damned. Michael would have time to prepare for them to try again; he would know their plan.

Sam braced himself and pushed open the door. The smell of rotting flesh hit him like a punch, and he swallowed reflexively and walked into the church. There was a pile of decomposing corpses in the corner of the room, and Michael stood opposite him, his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile curling his lips that did not reach his eyes. He had changed out of Dean own clothes into a brown coat over a vest with a patterned red tie.

It wasn't just his clothes that stole any sign of Dean, though; it was his expression, the look in his eyes. He seemed both amused and scathing. His stance was completely relaxed.

"I felt you coming," he said. "Though I was expecting Castiel. You took something from him, didn't you? Really, Sam, what did you do to yourself?"

"What I had to do," Sam said.

"Why? You can't think you're going to beat me with that weak grace running through your veins. It wouldn't be strong enough even if it was still at its original source. You're only human with no powers to stop me doing what I please."

"I'm a Winchester," Sam growled.

"You say that as if it should mean something to me. I've heard the stories of you from demons and angels, I know that you have done things in this world, but to me, you are an ant. You know what happens to ants, don't you? They're crushed underfoot. I let you live this long as thanks to your brother. I could have killed you in that church, but I decided not to. I thought I owed your brother something for giving himself over to me. But gratitude only stretches so far."

Sam withdrew the archangel blade from his jacket's inner pocket and held it up. "You won't kill me?"

Michael chuckled. "Because you're armed? Believe me, that only makes it more interesting. You can't kill me, you're not an archangel; that blade is nothing in your hands."

"You won't kill me because Dean won't let you."

"You say that like he has a choice in the matter. I am in control here. Dean is distracted."

"What have you done to him?"

Michael smiled. "It's enough to me that you will never know."

"I will. I am going to save him."

"I have already done that," Michael said. "He was the first one saved. He is my vessel now, the closest a human can come to divine. He is a part of me."

"He's nothing to you."

Michael raised his hand, fingers poised to snap, and Sam felt a thrill of fear. He pushed it down and looked Michael in the eyes, and the archangel smiled. "Perhaps not that. I think a more hands-on kill would be better for you."

He stalked toward Sam, and Sam gripped the blade tighter in his hand. He thought he had one chance to draw blood before Michael overpowered him, and he was going to take it.

When the archangel was close enough, Sam swiped the blade through the air and caught a glancing blow on Michael's left hand. Blood and grace bled from the wound, and he looked annoyed.

Sam slashed again, but Michael caught Sam's wrist and twisted it, making Sam drop the blade.

"Feel better for your little show of defiance, ant?" He shook his hand and specks of blood flew from it. Sam's breaths caught as he realized Michael wasn't healing. He only needed his own blood now. Without the blade, he had no way to get it for himself, he needed to wait until Michael drew it for him.

"Get out of my brother!" he snarled.

"No," Michael said, drawing back a fist and landing a blow to Sam's jaw that felt like it shattered it, making him groan.

After a moment the pain in his jaw faded, replaced by the stinging warmth of grace, and Sam steadied himself on his feet. "You'll have to try harder than that," he mocked, needing to anger Michael so he would draw blood.

Michael punched him in the gut, and Sam was thrown back onto the dirty floor. His lungs flattened, and for a moment he gasped and swallowed air before his muscles unlocked and he sucked in a noisy breath.

"Get out of him," he rasped.

"No," Michael said again, bending and picking up the archangel blade. He lifted it and examined his own blood on the tip then turned it and leered down at Sam. "Say goodbye to your brother."

Sam braced himself for the pain, knowing what he had to do and willing it to work. Michel drove the blade down into Sam's abdomen, and Sam grabbed it, feeling it slice through his palm. The pain in his abdomen was almost completely overwhelming, but Sam was focused on his task. He clenched his fist to make the blood flow before the grace could heal it, feeling it dripping down his wrist, and then grabbed at Michael's hand. "Castiel, now!" he bellowed.

Michael frowned down at him for a moment, and then his eyes widened as he tried and failed to pull his hand free. Sam knew it was not his grip that held him there; it was Rowena's spell. He could feel its power pulsing through him, too.

"What did you do?" Michael asked, his eyes horrified as he struggled to free himself

"Saved my brother," Sam said with a grim smile, knowing it had worked, that Dean was coming.

Power rushed through him like fire and into Michael. Sam shouted Dean's name as Michael's head flew back and a stream of grace poured from his mouth, filling the air and blinding Sam. He covered his eyes with his arm and fell back against the floor. For a moment he could only hear a high-pitched whine and then Dean spoke, and Sam knew it was really him at last.

"Sammy?"

So… If this is the second time you're reading this chapter I hope it wasn't too boring to revisit. If this is your first time, welcome to the story.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx