Calling on Angels

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Sam and Dean have a fight on Christmas Eve. Two parts. Set season 4.

This story has been niggling at me. I wanted to finish the short sequel Christmas story to Cliffhanger, but my muse just takes me where she wants … this being the result … sorry ;)

This isn't my usual writing style, thought I'd try something different, I can't explain it, so be gentle ;)

Dedicated to my awesome beta's PADavis, Amarintha and Kelly plus additional cheerleaders, Wendy, Vixxenfairy and Lizz (and SciFirn, 'cause she helped me with some technical medical knowledge). They have been invaluable to me over the last year. Thank you so much for your wonderful, patient advice and encouragement. I didn't ask them to beta this one (I'm evil, but not that evil, 'tis the season after all) and besides, it's sort of a present (and they might want a refund LOL), so any and all mistakes are my own :)

To all the amazingly talented writers on FF, thank you guys for the wonderful stories of angst, drama and 'whumping of Dean' (particularly Phoebe, Terry and Muffy, I think they have a special torture room in their homes, just like me ROFL), those awesome fics just light up my life – keep them coming in 2009 guys!

I also realize that most of you are on holiday, so I'm not expecting reviews, I just hope you enjoy it, 'cause even I think it's weird LOL :) - Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and/or holidays and/or festivities and thanks for your amazing support during 2008!

Warning: Bad language, thanks to my coach Phoebe :)

It wasn't every day that his brother could shock the living shit right out of him, without a warning mind you, right to the point of almost complete speechlessness.

"What?"

He stopped in his snowy tracks, turning to look at his sibling, sure he had heard wrong, 'cause there was no friggin way in hell that Sammy could have just asked him that dumb ass question, suggested what he had just suggested … no way.

Sam stopped abruptly next to him, hands deep in his pocket, eyes downcast.

"It's not a big deal Dean, don't turn it into something it's not."

"Not a big deal? Have you completely lost your fucking marbles? 'Cause seriously dude," he threw his arms up in mock despair, "this is fucking unbelievable, even for you."

Sam eyes met his, flashing a cold warning, but his voice was the pure essence of controlled calm.

"Dean, it's just like every other stupid day, only we'll be having lunch and spending some time together, what harm is there in that?"

Dean's eyes were flashing back with a 'not so cold' warning … shooting hot daggers at his obviously demented brother.

"Well let's see …," he pretended to ponder the situation, finger on chin, "… firstly, I don't like the bitch, and secondly, just because she gave you some free lessons in the 'no pants dance', doesn't make her family. She's a demon Sam, not to mention that I still don't trust her further than I can throw her. "

Aggravation was seeping into Sam's voice as he rolled back on his heels, making him suddenly seem taller than his six foot four stature.

"Damnit Dean, I just don't want her to be alone is all, she doesn't have anyone, it's just another day, just like every other."

"No it's not, what's wrong with you man? It's fucking Christmas, Sam … Christmas. Day. The holiest day on the Christian calendar, and you want her, a demon, to spend it with us?"

Sam's aggravation was now evident in his stance, shifting from foot to foot as he frowned at his brother. They were standing on a dimly lit and deserted street corner, on their way to the only open convenience store, just the next street over. They were on the hunt for beer, alcohol, and whatever else they could lay their hands on, at Dean's infuriating insistence. It was late, a cold wind whipping around them as Sam pulled his coat tighter around his shivering form. Trust them to have a rip-roaring fight out in the friggin cold night air, on Christmas Eve, and just two blocks away from their nice warm motel room.

"Shit Dean … that's rich coming from you. Since when did you become all 'high and mighty'? You didn't ever believe in God or angels, and now look at you, preaching to me of all people."

There was a mocking tone in Sam's voice that was unintentional, and he also knew, hurtful. He wondered when he had become such an ass. So he tried again, his voice reverting to the soothing tone that always, well not so much lately, worked on Dean.

"All I'm saying is that she's helped us more in this last year than anyone … she helped me, what else does she have to do to prove herself?"

Dean, not for the first time, felt the sting of the barb Sam had unwittingly just thrown his way. Sam was right, he hadn't believed, had actually teased his younger brother about his faith on numerous occasions, but a stint in the pit and a 'blistering' rescue could speedily change a guys mind. He certainly didn't need a recap of how Sam and Ruby had helped more people in the 4 months, aka the eternal 40 years he had spent being the tormented and the fucking tormenter in hell, then he and his brother had done in the past year. That was still a slap to the face.

He shook his head in despair, knowing exactly how useless he was, compared to the new and improved demon-power-super-charged Sammy he had returned to, no thanks to the aforementioned Ruby … and he realized again just how unneeded he had become. He still, for the life of him, couldn't understand why God had handpicked him, chosen him personally, out of everyone, to fight a war that even the angels were losing? He knew he wasn't worthy, maybe it was because he was so damn expendable?

Those words were still sinking in, burning like acid in his gut, so he couldn't help the surprised look he gave his little brother, the one where in his mind, Sam was suddenly sprouting a pair of horns and a tail.

"So what? Now you want to pick out curtains with her?"

"She was there for me Dean, you don't seem to understand that, and I keep trying to explain … if it wasn't for her I wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't be here with you."

The pang of guilt, another fucking barb, was doing nothing to alleviate the irritation and anger rushing through his blood like molten lava. He needed a fucking drink.

"Okay, whatever man, but I'm telling you something for nothing right now … I'm not spending Christmas with her … I don't care how close you two lovebirds were … are. If you want to, you go ahead, play 'housey housey' … just leave me out of it!"

He stepped off the pavement, muscles tense, but stopped, turning slowly to face his brother again, just as Sam's angry words tore a new hole into his heart.

"Maybe I'll do that Dean … you've been a right royal pain in the ass about this ever since you found out. And I like Ruby, she helped me when I needed someone … when I had no one … and seriously dude, if you don't like it, don't want to spend Christmas together, than fine … that's your decision."

So there it was, finally, the confirmation he had been dreading, he really wasn't needed anymore. A test … a choice between her and him, and Sam had chosen. It still hurt like a sonnavabitch, 'specially when it was said out loud. He wanted to shake his brother, shake some sense into his naive frame. He didn't know what Ruby's game was, but she was playing Sam, he could feel it, and besides he was back damnit, he was back from hell. Wasn't that enough? I mean for godsake, wasn't that a fucking miracle in itself? Sammy wasn't alone anymore, he had Dean … but it seemed that Sam had found a replacement. Dean was now a liability, and as Sam kept pointing out, 'a right royal pain in the ass'.

"Fine Sam, I'm outta here. Do what you want."

He started turning, the ache he was feeling in his soul making him lash out one last time. He made damn sure Sam heard his next words, wanting to hurt his little brother, the person he had missed for so long, the person who didn't need him anymore … he wanted to hurt him just as badly.

"Sometimes I wonder if you ever really wanted me back."

He was looking at his feet as he said it, scared to hear the answer, but Sam's whipping retaliation was worse than he ever could have expected.

"Go to hell, Dean!"

His body jerked slightly, suddenly felt numb from the impact, like Sam had shot those words into his exposed back, severing the nerves in his spine. But he still managed to take a step, start walking, moving on autopilot as he crossed the street. He didn't look back.

"DEAN?"

The first scream of his brother's name was in a plaintive form of an apology. Sam raged at himself. What the hell was wrong with him? What had possessed him to ask Dean if Ruby could spend Christmas with them? He knew how Dean felt, Dean had made it perfectly clear every chance he got. But he owed Ruby, and he was torn between loyalty to his brother and loyalty to the one person, demon though she was, who had pulled him through the worst time of his life.

He had known this would happen though, knew it before he had even asked, but he had been pushing, feeling the need to be in control again, even with Dean back. Dean taking the lead, falling into his role as protector, a role Sam had, unwillingly at first, inherited after his brother's death. It was strangely difficult to accept or relinquish control. And if he were being completely honest with himself, he missed that bit of independence. But not as much as he had missed Dean. God no. He wouldn't trade having his brother back for anything in the world, not one damn thing. Yet here he was, starting a stupid fight … always pushing, like he had done with Dad when Dad was alive, and did he really want the relationship he was trying to rebuild with his brother to end up like that? He called out again in desperation.

"DEAN?"

He watched his brother walking away from him, head bowed, ignoring and blocking out his plea. Dean had every right to be pissed, he was pissed at himself right now. He stepped forward, needing to fix this somehow, his head instantly snapping to the left as he heard the sound of a car approaching, swerving on the icy road, engine roaring … fast, way too fast. A look of horror crossed his features as the headlights barrelled full speed towards his oblivious brother.

The third scream was an anguished yell of denial.

"DEAN!"

He was running before he could stop himself, but it all happened so fast, one minute Dean was walking, lost in his own angry thoughts, only getting the briefest of seconds to look up and register what was going on, as the bright lights momentarily blinded him, pulling him from his reverie.

He didn't even get a chance to dive out of the way, vaguely hearing the raw shout of his name from his brother's lips. The impact hit him almost as soon as the headlights did. He had to admit that being hit by a car was one of the weirdest sensations he had ever felt. Sam had told him about the time he had been knocked over by some old dude, one of the many times he had died back at the Mystery Spot, but he didn't remember that. So this was completely new to him, the feeling of weightlessness as he was catapulted up onto the hood, the sharp pain of smashing into the windshield before flying over the roof. It didn't hurt as badly as he imagined, not until he hit the tar, 'cause that hurt like a bitch, but thankfully only for a second before oblivion stole his last thoughts away.

Sam was next to his brother before he came to a complete tumbling stop. The car didn't even brake as it disappeared out of sight, the whole thing happening in a matter of seconds.

"Oh god … no … nonono!!"

Dean was lying on his back, bleeding, his sightless eyes looking up at the dark sky. Sam's heart was waiting to stop as he shakily felt for a pulse. He took his first breath since sprinting across the street when he felt the weak flutter beneath his fingertips. He barely registered yelling for anyone to help him, barely registered the shop owner rushing over to assist and barely registered his automatic demand that he call 911.

'Cause this wasn't happening. No. His mind felt like it was switching off as a horrible sense of déjà-vu descended over him. He refused to accept that he was kneeling next to his barely alive brother. Dean couldn't be dying, 'cause that just wasn't right, right? Hadn't he died already, didn't that somehow absolve him from death? Didn't the fact that an angel had pulled him out of hell make his big brother indestructible, like he had been when Sam was a kid, before he knew better?

He carefully lifted his brothers upper body onto his lap, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he shouldn't be moving Dean at all. But he couldn't leave his brother on the cold ground, in the cold ground … he'd done that before, he wouldn't do that again. Flashes of memory bombarded him. Shovelling dirt onto a wooden box, already forgetting Dean's face, his voice. He didn't want to forget, didn't want that hollow silence to haunt him again.

"Don't die, you're alright ... I've got you."

So he concentrated on the one sound he could hear, the hitching of Dean's breath … the shallow rise and fall of Dean's chest. There was no one else, just him and Dean on a cold, deserted street. No other evidence of the hit and run, like nothing had happened. In the back of his mind he wished he would just wake up right now, 'cause this nightmare was getting a little too real.

His shaky, heartbroken voice sounded too familiar to his own ears, tears spilling onto Dean's still face. Dean dead in his arms after the hellhounds had torn him to shreds, superimposed over the form now cradled in his arms.

"Please Dean, I'm so sorry … you're okay … you'll be okay."

He gently rocked his brother, willing him to stay alive, keep breathing until help arrived.

He began wondering if maybe he was in some sort of coma, or maybe an alternative universe created by a Djinn. Hadn't he nearly resorted to that when Dean had died? 'Cause hell, he had tried everything to get his brother back. And when all else had failed, he had given up … given up on life. Maybe this was some delusional dream, maybe Dean was still dead and buried, and Sam, well he was hooked up in a warehouse somewhere, slowly bleeding to death.

But the solid feel of Dean in his arms, the sounds, the too familiar smells, the blood covering his hands, strangely that was what was grounding him. He knew this was real, even though he so desperately didn't want to accept it, and he also knew that he couldn't do this again … he couldn't lose his brother again. He wouldn't survive a second time, Ruby wouldn't be able to save him from himself a second time.

He only had one choice, he wasn't sure if he'd be heard, wasn't sure if he was worthy enough to be heard … but he had to try anyway.

"God, if you're listening, if you're really out there, please … please help me!"

TBC