Hello! First: if you are one of my lovely readers of "Face Down in the Desert," I want you to know that ch14 is coming along! Fingers crossed it will be posted Tues/Wed. :)

Second: This story is the product of two years of hard work, caffeine, blood sweat and tears. Ok, maybe not blood although probably at least a couple paper cuts along the way. This is a collaborative effort between me and my bestie, DamonsGirl92. As a brief introduction, this story follows directly after "Ring Around the Roses." RAtR was written and published in the space of a couple months. This one has taken a lot longer...because one of us got married (hint: not me), we both moved 3x apiece, one of us bought a house (hint: not me), and we both changed jobs 3x. In other words, the past 2 years have been Dingo ate my baby crazy for both of us. This story went through 3 complete re-writes and the final version does not even so much as slightly resemble the original version! :)

This story is complete. 18 chapters. We are tweaking as we go but it is all complete and I'll be posting chapters fairly frequently. The story could be considered AU and does have some original characters and love interests for the boys which I know isn't for everyone. :) If you decide to check it out, we hope you'll enjoy it!

The Flames of Ocracoke

Set ten hours immediately following "Ring around the Roses"

CHAPTER ONE

Her angel blade dripped with blood; black against the pale silver of the blade. She straightened, staring down at the rawhead. Wiping a hand across her face, Casey looked up and tilted her head at a sound from somewhere to her left. Crouching back down automatically, her fingers tightened around the blade and she drew a calming breath.

The forest seemed still.

Too still. Dark eyes professionally analyzing the surrounding area, Casey regulated her breathing. Nothing out of place in a place where everything was out of place. Something was wrong but she couldn't put her finger on it.

At the snapping of a twig, Casey whipped her head around, her dark curls fanning out. She silently cursed herself for not bringing a rubber band when she decided to enter Purgatory. She started towards the noise, careful of where she placed each step so as not to alert whatever lay behind the small hill she was climbing.

As she neared the top, she could hear shouting. Still in her crouched position, she peered over to see what was going on. There were two men standing near a small stream and a third was about twenty feet away, trying to look like he wasn't eavesdropping. He had a beard and was surveying the landscape with the practiced ease of one accustomed to being hunted. Casey looked back over at the two men arguing by the stream. One of the arguing men was wearing dirty jeans and a dark leather jacket. There was blood all over his clothes, face, and hands. In fact, it appeared that no part of the man's appearance was untouched by blood. The other man was wearing what looked to be hospital scrubs. They might have once been white, but now were a dingy grey.

He was also wearing a trench coat.

That had to be him.

Crowley said he always wore the coat. With a quickness that surprised the trench coated man, Leather Jacket threw a left hook to his jaw, causing him to stumble back.

Casey had never known her father. And Trench Coat man was the furthest thing from a father figure. But something in her made her jump up from her hiding place and sprint over to Leather Jacket. She had come all the way to purgatory to find Trench Coat after all...

"What the…" Leather Jacket said at the moment Casey tackled him to the ground. He reacted immediately and rolled them over.

With Leather Jacket on top of her, Casey summoned a little extra power and used it to fling him off. He landed on the ground next to her and she took advantage of his distracted state. She threw herself at him once more and this time had her blade raised above her, ready for the kill. But once again Leather Jacket proved to be stronger than his weary and bedraggled appearance had led her to believe and he easily flipped them again.

Casey fought with everything she had, but Leather Jacket was heavy and his weight was crushing her, making it harder and harder to breathe. She didn't want to use her powers to excess in this place; already she had seen it attract unwanted attention. With darkness clouding the edges of her vision, she moved to block a wicked looking stone blade. The blade was about to strike her when Trench Coat called out.

"Dean, no! Stop!" he yelled.

The man about to kill her stopped mid-strike and looked back at the other man.

"Get off of her," Trench Coat said as he grabbed the guy and pulled him off of Casey. He stretched out a dirty hand and Casey ignored it, getting up on her own.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?" the guy in the leather jacket asked, still in a fighting stance as he stared at her. "Do you know her?"

"Yes, Dean." The man in the trench coat nodded, looking at Casey with an inscrutable expression. He said, "This is my daughter."

The men, including the guy with the bushy beard who had been silent during all of this, now turned to look at Casey. She responded with the best smile she could muster, and put as much sass and confidence into her stance as she could. She'd come looking for him and she'd found him and she was going to meet him on her terms.

She cocked her head to the side and, still smiling, said "Hiya Dad!"

Sunday
0210
Near Lebanon, KS

"Are you ok?"

Casey blinked and lifted her head from the window. She rubbed her eyes, reorienting herself to where she was and what was going on. Dark trees blurred by outside the window, but she was in her Mustang and Dean was driving. So, not purgatory. Casey took a breath, looking over at Dean. He'd just asked her something. She frowned, "What?"

"Are you ok?" His eyes were concerned as he glanced at her, then back to the road ahead. "You woke up kind of abruptly there, Echo."

"Dreaming, I think." Casey said, trying to shake the thoughts of purgatory out of her mind. She rubbed her eyes and frowned; the memory made her wonder.

"What's the matter?" Dean asked, touching her shoulder, "Nightmare?"

"Sort of." She shrugged, sitting up and looking around at the dark scenery. Casey asked, "Is it weird that Dad hasn't gotten in touch with me all this time since he left us in Chicago?"

Dean took a slow breath and she could see him considering the situation. Obviously she wasn't the only one wondering about her father. He finally looked at her and said, "He's a busy little guy, Casey. Could be nothing."

Casey nodded, "Or it could be something."

"That too. You tried getting in touch with him?"

"A couple times. Nothing." Despite her worry, she couldn't stop the yawn. She smiled at Dean and said, "You're probably right. He hasn't ever exactly been the best at communicating, has he?"

"Not exactly." Dean snorted and it was the sound of someone who had long experience waiting on communication from Castiel. Smiling to alleviate her worry, Dean added. "He'll come when he can."

Casey nodded and squinted at the dark road ahead. It felt like they'd been driving forever. She knew she was whining, but she was exhausted enough not to care, "How much longer?"

"About fifteen more minutes." Dean grinned, stretching his neck and turning the radio up now that she was awake. "You getting anxious to see my place?"

Casey smiled back, "I am. But I'm also just anxious to sleep."

"You've been asleep…" He did some mental calculations, "for almost four hours. And that's after we pulled over for a nap. You shouldn't have healed me after…"

"Of course I should have." Casey countered with another yawn. "You weren't going to be driving my car with a broken hand, mister. I want my baby...and you, in one piece." She pulled his coat around her and resettled a pinch closer to him. "I'm tired. Exhausted. Worn out. But I'm also fine. I just need sleep. More sleep."

Dean studied her, trying to gauge her honesty. She blinked up at him drowsily with a smile and he nodded, "So go back to sleep."

"I'm talking about a bed." Casey groaned, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm talking about a cozy bed with pillows…"

"And memory foam." Dean grinned, pulling off the interstate.

Almost home.

"That's sad."

Bennett's voice was soft but drew Sam's attention. She'd been flipping the dial of the radio for the past hour trying to keep him awake as he drove. He yawned and glanced at her. The tail end of news report was just going off and he hadn't heard a word of it. He asked, "What's sad?"

"A kid went missing on a family vacation in Oklahoma. There aren't any leads on the case." Bennett said, handing him a cup. It was the last, rather cold, dregs of her fifth cup of coffee. At least he thought it was her fifth cup; he'd lost track a long time ago. She narrowed her eyes and said, "You zoned out again."

Sam drank the coffee and nodded. Maybe they should have stopped somewhere for the night rather than pushing forward on a ten hour drive with only a brief nap at a gas station. Everyone was still feeling pretty lousy after the confrontation with Pestis. He grimaced at the nasty taste of the brew and nodded at the radio, "What about the kid? Kids disappear all the time. Was there something odd about it?"

"I disappeared." Bennett said, studying him like he was the answer to a question she hadn't asked.

Sam realized he probably could have worded his question a bit more sensitively but he'd just been too tired to think straight. Trying to keep the Impala relatively between the correct lines, he looked over at her and said, "I'm sorry, Bennett. Are you ok? I know all of this...it's been pretty crazy for you."

"I'm ok, I guess." She shrugged, "It just feels weird knowing there were probably reports in the news about me when I disappeared. I don't know if there was anyone who even missed me. You know? I don't remember exactly having a lot of friends. At least not the kind who would have cared if I disappeared. This kid's probably got it worse, though. He's probably dead."

"You were dead." Sam said, meeting her eyes. Even though he knew it was partially her coping mechanism, her cool detachment to her own past sometimes worried him.

"But I got to come back." Bennett said, a quick smile lighting her tired face. "That doesn't happen to most people."

"True." Sam nodded, not for the first time admiring her positivity.

Most people would be bitter about being condemned to hell from a deal their father made, but she focused on the fact that she was alive. As Bennett resumed the head rubbing that she'd been doing too much of the entire trip, he frowned and glanced at his watch. Not much longer until they were at the Bunker but not yet long enough since her last dose of ibuprofen for her to take any more medication.

Turning the radio down, Sam shifted uncomfortably in his own seat and tried to find that elusive position where his chest didn't hurt so much. He wondered how Casey was doing; she'd all but collapsed after taking care of his ribs and Dean's hand. Assuring them that she was just low on Angel-power didn't do much to allay Dean's concerns and Sam couldn't blame him. Add to that his growing concern about Bennett, and Sam again felt like they should have stopped somewhere for the night.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He asked softly, glancing at Bennett as she shifted and leaned her head against the seat back.

"Just a headache, Sam." Bennett smiled slightly, eyes closed.

"You don't look ok."

She grimaced, "Well, it's not getting worse, so that's something."

"But it's not getting better?"

Bennett chewed her lip and shook her head very slowly. "Not really."

Sam frowned and said, "We're almost there now. Not much farther. When we get there, I think Casey should…"

"Go to bed." Bennett interrupted. She touched his arm, "We all should. I just need to sleep."

Still not convinced, Sam nodded and said, "We get home, you can sleep as long as you want."

"We don't have to get them breakfast?"

Sam grinned, "Absolutely not. They can fend for themselves tomorrow."

"This is it?"

Dean heard the disappointment in her voice. Obviously, Casey Economou was used to a certain standard of living. He looked at the Bunker as he parked her Mustang. He had to admit that it wasn't exactly a Beverly Hills mansion, and it looked a bit foreboding in the darkness, but it was home.

He said, "Hey, it's better on the inside. I promise. Remember, gun range…"

Casey glanced from the dismal scene ahead of her to the man next to her. She tried to hide her amusement at his shattered expression. He looked so upset that she felt bad that she hadn't shown more enthusiasm. Squeezing his arm, Casey grinned and said, "Cheer up, Deano. I'm a what's on the inside kind of girl anyway."

"What's that mean?" Dean took his hand off the door handle and looked at her suspiciously. He saw the glint of amusement in her eyes. He said, "You're more interested in my brains," Dean tapped his head, then flexed his arm, "then you are in my considerable brawn?"

"Mmm." Casey chewed her lip, staring at his arm. "Ok, so I'm an inside and outside kind of girl…"

"I thought so." Dean nodded triumphantly. "Well, come on then. You've seen the brawn of the Bunker. Let me show you the brains."

Casey eased out of the car, still stiff and achy and weak after their battle with Pestis. They'd rested up for a few hours before setting off toward Kansas, but even that and the brief hour or so they spent napping at that gas station hadn't been enough to completely revitalize her. Or any of us, Casey mused watching Dean slowly move to the trunk and try not to grimace as he reached in for their bags. She'd managed to take some of the edge off of his and Sam's injuries, but that had been her last act of angelic power for awhile. Her batteries were in need of some time to recharge.

Leaning against the car, Casey stared vacantly down at her bag. I should probably grab that, she thought to herself. But no, her hands didn't cooperate and then the trunk was closed and all their bags were in Dean's hands. She blinked up at him and caught his glance of concern.

"Casey?" Dean stepped toward her, leaning down to peer at her more closely. "How are you doing? Be honest."

"I'm honestly exhausted and honestly looking forward to some memory foam." She smiled wearily, hand on his arm. "Long week, you know."

"Oh, believe me, I know." Dean blew out a breath and looked up the road expectantly. He could hear the nearing thrum of the Impala's engine so he turned back to Casey. Her vacant expression told him all he needed to know. "Come on, Echo. Let's head on in. You look ready to drop and my arms are kind of full right now, so…."

Casey shook her head and pushed off the car. "Very funny. I'm perfectly capable…"

"Of many things, yes I know." Dean interrupted, watching her stumbling gait. "How about you start by getting the door unlocked?"

It took her three tries to get her hand to stop shaking enough to unlock the door, but thankfully, Dean didn't comment. He just stepped past her to turn on the lights, then allowed her to enter while he took a quick look up the road. Once he saw the lights of the Impala, he followed her inside. Casey gripped the railing of the balcony and stared down into the bunker.

"Wow." It was a pathetic understatement but all her weary and flabbergasted brain could come up with at the moment.

Dean just smiled as if that was the common reaction to seeing the interior of the bunker and nodded, "Right? Come on down."

Casey followed him down the stairs, eyes wide as she took in the expanse of the bunker. It was much different than what she had envisioned when Dean had told her he lived underground. She'd been picturing a spartan bomb shelter out of the war movies Grandma Bea had enjoyed. This, while definitely lacking much in the way of decor, was actually rather homey. In a man cave kind of way, Casey smiled.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Dean dropped their bags in a pile and put an arm around Casey's shoulders, leading her deeper into the bunker. Hoping he was leading her to a bed, Casey couldn't complain when he pulled her toward a couch. She needed to sit down for a few minutes to recover enough strength to even make it to a bed.

"You were right." Casey breathed out in awe, relaxing into Dean's arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. "This is the Batcave!"

"This is not the Batcave…" Sam called out in disagreement as he and Bennett made their way past them.

"Fortress of Solitude, then?" Casey called out, watching them disappear down one of the maze-like hallways. "You seem like a Superman guy to me, Sam."

"Nah, he's more of a Captain America." Dean muttered as they left the room. "So morally upright all the time. Boring."

She smiled, still trying to wrap her head around the expanse of the Bunker. And, given that she wasn't exactly able to walk a straight line, she'd only seen a very small part of it so far. Namely, the entry way and what constituted the living room. She curled her feet up under her on the couch and felt the last bit of tension relax out of her body.

Dean shifted so they were more comfortable and asked, "How did I get a cool chick like you?"

"You went to purgatory, dear. You were bound to find something." Casey teased, patting him on the chest.

"If I remember correctly, you found me. Tackled me to the dirt, actually." Dean mumbled sleepily.

"Mmmhmm good times." Casey smiled, letting her eyes close. "Where's that memory foam you told me about?"

Dean wrapped his arms around her and settled back into the couch. "I'll show you in a minute. Just need a quick nap."

Casey felt herself relax. A quick nap had never sounded so good…

Not terribly surprised to find Dean and Casey already taking up residence on the couch, Sam led Bennett past the living room. It didn't look like his brother or Casey was planning to move for the rest of the night. Since they didn't exactly have guest rooms set up for company, and given that it was late and he was exhausted from driving all day, he wasn't inclined to make too big a deal out of anything. If they wanted to sleep on the couch, that was fine with him. So he opened his door and dropped Bennett's bag of meager possessions on a convenient chair.

"Bathroom's through there." He said, glancing at Bennett. She was slumped against the doorway, eyes barely open and underlined in dark shadows. Stepping closer, he touched her shoulder, "Bennett? I'll leave the ibuprofen on the table."

She gave him a thumbs up and stumbled toward the bed. He followed her and made sure she didn't hit the floor halfway there. Hand on her shoulder, Sam asked, "Are you going to be ok?"

"I just need to close my eyes and not fight any more supernatural monsters," Bennett said, sitting down and instantly falling backwards onto the bed, "for at least the next twelve hours or so."

Sam smiled, and helped her get settled under the covers. "Well, this is about the safest place we know. No monsters allowed."

"Good. Because I've had enough of them." Bennett whispered sleepily. She reached out and took his hand as he started to rise. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" He asked, sitting down next to her.

"You're going to be close, right?"

"Just down the hall." Sam smiled, squeezing her hand. "I'll leave the door open, ok? You have your cell?"

"Yes."

"Then call me if you need something. Anything. Promise me."

"I'll call you, Sam. Thanks." Bennett smiled again and tucked her hand under her chin, rolling onto her side.

"Sleep well." Sam said. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes until he was sure she had fallen asleep. He checked to see that her cell was on and next to her, then headed out into the hallway.

Grab a blanket. Find a spare bed to crash on. That was the sum of his plan for the night. But then he stopped by the door of Dean's room and his plans changed.

Ah, memory foam...

Sleep well.

Sleep well.

Bennett repeated Sam's words in her head as if they would magically help her actually get some sleep. The headache had eased off for awhile earlier and she'd gotten a few minutes of sleep. Now though, alone in the dark with her thoughts, the pain had doubled as her heart thudded in her chest. She'd tried tossing and turning as if that would help; all that did was make her head even more likely to explode in the next twenty minutes. Nothing stopped her from thinking; from remembering. So she focused even harder on painting herself a pleasant picture, smooshed a pillow around her face and held on for dear life.

Hope you enjoyed! Will update fairly frequently so you won't have to wait too long. ;)