Chapter 36 I Dreamed
Hope was on fire, white-hot flames licking at her from the inside, burning her hollow. She tried to cry out, to call for help, but she couldn't form words. She didn't even know where she was. The only thing that existed was the fire.
Suddenly, a sound permeated the air. Was that...was that a trumpet? She listened harder, latching on to the sound. Music. Yes, it was music. And it sounded familiar, though she couldn't place it. What were the words?
As Hope listened to the song, the flames around her dimmed, puttering out as if the music was suffocating it. She began to feel other things; there was a mattress beneath her. Her hands were warm, but not in an unpleasant way. Was someone holding them? Yes, and there were fingers carding through her hair. It felt nice.
The music was louder now, and suddenly she remembered the words. It was an old Kansas song; Carry on my Wayward Son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more....
************************
Hope's eyes fluttered open. She was met with two crystalline green orbs floating close to her face. She blinked until things came into focus. Dean's face hovered over her, eyes filled with relief. "Hope?"
"Dean?" She asked, confused. The fire was gone, and, along with it, the pain in her back. Hope looked around; she was lying in her and Dean's bed in the bunker. "What happened? I don't...the last thing I remember is Cas" her voice broke, "Cas finished the ritual. And then...I guess I passed out."
"That would be where I come in." Came a voice from the corner of the room. Hope looked over to see a short man with long brown hair and a sneaky glint in his eye. "Gabriel. It's good to see you, sis."
Hope was about to comment when she noticed the man standing beside Gabriel, a tan trench coat falling over his shoulders. "Castiel?"
************************
THEN
"Did you miss me?" Gabriel asked, leaning in the doorway of the warehouse. He chuckled. "Sorry, I've always wanted to say that." He looked around, receiving quizzical looks from everyone in the room. "I bet if Hope were conscious she'd get that joke. I'm disappointed in you, Sam. I can't believe you don't watch Sherlock."
"Gabriel?" Dean asked, staring wide-eyed at the resurrected angel. "But...you died. I saw you die." He stammered.
"Yeah. I faked it. I'm good at that." Gabriel scoffed. "You don't learn well from past experiences, do you, Dean-o?"
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.
"What does it look like?" Gabriel exclaimed. "My favorite little brother is dead--again--and my sister is dying. I want to help."
"And how do you plan to do that, angel?" Death asked harshly. "You want to take your siblings back while Death himself is standing right in front of you?"
Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. And I have the authority to do it."
"From whom?"
"Dear old Dad and his hand-me-down trumpet." Gabriel snapped his fingers and a silver trumpet appeared in his hands. "The Horn of Gabriel." He explained. "It can be used in sigil form, but I've always preferred the actual horn. It's more powerful this way, anyway. And wielded by its namesake, it has the power to--"
"Bring back the dead." Sam interrupted.
"Exactly. Samwich did his research. I play a tune on this, and Cassie and Hope will be as good as new." Gabriel licked his lips and put the silver mouth piece to them, taking in a deep breath.
************************
NOW
Hope squeezed Dean's hand, now sitting up in the bed. She reached out to Castiel, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm glad you're not dead." She whispered in his ear.
He chuckled. "Me too."
"You, too, Gabe." She said, reaching out to her other brother. "One question; why 'Carry on my Wayward Son'?" She asked.
Gabriel laughed. "Liked my musical selection, did you?" he shrugged. "I don't know, just thought it would be fitting." He smirked, as if he knew something the rest of them did not.
Dean's phone buzzed. He picked it up and looked at it. "Hmm. It's from Death. He says to tell you he's glad he won't be 'collecting' you any time soon." He shrugged. "I guess that's as nice as Death gets. How did he even get this number?" Death and Crowley had both left shortly after Gabriel had arrived, proclaiming they had to do Death/King of Hell related things. Hope suspected it was because neither of them much cared for the archangel (or, more specifically, his sense of humor).
Hope glanced over his shoulder, noticing the date and time. "It's Saturday? Dean, there's a new episode of Doctor Who out!" she exclaimed.
Dean glanced around the room, a little embarrassed. "Well, what are we waiting for? Turn it on!" Gabriel exclaimed.
They all five piled into the bed; Hope curled into Dean's lap, Sam on one side of him and Castiel on the other. Gabriel perched on the end of the bed, short enough not to block anyone's view of the television as long as he didn't sit directly in front of Hope.
They sat there as Doctor Who's opening credits rolled, all touching Dean in at least one place, every one of them glad to have the Dean-sized hole inside of them filled once again. Even Gabriel was part of this Winchester family moment.
Outside, snow fell, covering the bare ground in a blanket of white. But inside, with Dean there once more, not one of them felt the smallest shiver of cold. Losing him had brought them closer together, but having him back was what kept them from falling apart.