Dean and the Nephilim Chapter 1: Part 1, a supernatural fanfic

Dedicated to Netflix, and how I will only watch a season of Supernatural once it puts all of it up, because I hate waiting. I started writing this to tide me over until S13 went up, but I've been working on it so long that S14 is now out. Still haven't seen S13.

Dedicated to Destiel, eventually. I promise it's not just angsting, it just starts that way. It gets better.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

I'd known things were going to get messy in the final battle against Lucifer, but we had just lost everyone. Literally everyone on our side. Gone. If not dead, then vanished and completely inaccessible. Our mom was trapped with Lucifer and Crowley's vacated meatsack in that mirror-world hellscape, Kelly was most definitely dead by now, and Cas …

Cas.

I forced my gaze down to the body sprawled on the cold dirt, the fall of his coat echoing the burned outlines of his deteriorated wings. He deserved my attention now, after everything he'd done for everyone beside himself.

For years I had leaned on him without realizing it, letting him absorb some of my self-hatred without noticing that he was keeping it for himself, hoarding it like bricks until they drowned him in his own lack of worth.

A hole opened up in my gut and blinding pain swirled out, dropping me to my knees at his side. I let my head droop until our foreheads were pressed together, his cooling skin stark against my sudden fever as all the world around me faded out. Wave after wave of hot, guilty ache pulsed from my core.

This man, more human than most humans I had met, had been more of a mother to me than the woman who had actually given birth to me. She, after all, had followed the course of nature, miracle of life and all that, carrying me but not doing any of the fine detail work. Cas had rebuilt me, molecule by molecule, patching the cavernous cracks in my soul with his grace until his essence became as tattered as the trenchcoat he'd abandoned when he'd traded up for Leviathan power.

And then I'd pulled myself out of my grave like exiting a womb, and he'd turned away from the comrades he'd obeyed unquestioningly for untold millennia to join us. And we'd fought back the tides of darkness together, over and over, Team Free Will. Sam and I hadn't really had a choice, but Cas … Cas had. He'd chosen us. He'd chosen me.

He'd set himself against his family, he'd become family to us instead, and I'd taken him for granted, and now he was gone.

The deep ache inside me cut deeper and deeper until I couldn't stand it any longer. I sat back on my heels, threw my head back, and screamed and screamed and screamed, until my voice was hoarse and my throat burned like the fires of Hell, which isn't a description I use lightly.

Only then could I start pushing it all back down, cramming it back inside, hiding from feelings like I'd always been taught. Thanks, Dad.

I took deep breath after deep breath, compressing the ache until it was an emptiness that throbbed in my gut. Into that stillness, the only voice that still mattered in this world hit my ears like a siren song, drifting out of one of the cabin's open windows.

"Dean?"

Fuck, Sam. I'd bailed on him and the newborn Antichrist, left him alone at a turning point in the entire world's history so that I could wallow. Nicely done as usual, Dean.

Dragging myself back to my feet by sheer force of will, I ignored the emptiness and tried to analyze what Sam's tone had been as I put one foot in front of the other. Who the hell knew what I would find in that house? For sure, Kelly was dead. What had she wanted to name the kid? Ah, right. Jack.

I put a hand on the doorknob, listening as hard as I could, but there was only silence now. The knob turned easily in my hand, and I eased my head inside, still straining against the thick hush of the living room.

There! A low murmur, Sam's voice rising and falling, calming, from the direction of the kitchen. My gun slid into my hand like an old friend, and I crept up the hallway, the sound of my brother an invisible thread that tugged me onward even though I wanted nothing more than to lie down and give the fuck up. What the hell were we going to do with a baby?

What twisted fucking universe had given a baby to Sam and Dean Winchester? This was supposed to be Cas's job, he had promised, he had believed in this kid, even more than he had believed in me, which was saying something. He had killed a Chuck-damn reaper for us, Cosmic Consequences be damned, and now he was gone (not now, I told the throbbing emptiness), and Sam and I had to raise an actual child.

Who might or might not try to kill us immediately, and then go on to destroy the world.

I was approaching the doorless archway that led into the kitchen. Reassured by Sam's continued murmuring, I pressed my back to the wall and I took an extra second to assess.

"My brother Dean will be here soon. You'll like him, he's a good man. Neither of us would ever do anything to hurt you. We only want to help. I swear to you, we don't blame you for your father's crimes. You are an innocent, there is no crime in simply existing. Let's just take it nice and easy, no rush, no pressure, just relax."

His voice was coming from floor-level, like he was sitting on the ground. Probably shouldn't make him a liar right off the bat. My gun slid back into my waistband at the small of my back, and then I took a knee as well.

"Sam?" I called gently, easily, trying to take on his tone of calm reassurance.

His voice stopped.

I put my hands around the archway, letting the kitchen light wash over their emptiness. When they weren't smited, I followed them with my head, easing into a crouch in the doorway.

My first reaction was a sort of hysterical relief.

"This the kid, Sammy?"

My brother was sitting on the floor, an arm over the shoulders of a naked man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties. The man looked up at me with burning eyes. His hair hung around his face, lank and sweaty, and he looked gaunt and pale, as if he'd been locked inside a small room for several months – which, I suppose, was technically true.

I froze, hands still awkwardly raised, pinned by that burning gaze.

"Yeah," my brother said. "Dean, this is Jack. Jack, my brother, Dean."

"Nice to meet you," I told him, the words feeling absurd even as they left my mouth. This was a being of unimaginable power. Yeah, I guess I could say it was nice to meet him. He's only about ten minutes old, did he even know about manners?

"Hello, Dean." The words themselves blindsided me – I was accustomed to hearing them from a certain someone – but they were delivered in a pleasant tenor, and the absence of a gravelly baritone helped me claw my way back out of the sucking abyss in my center.

I took a seat on the floor as well, close enough that Jack could reach over and touch me if he wanted but far enough to appear (hopefully) non-threatening. My hands lay flat on my thighs, far away from any weapons.

"Dean, can he search your memories? He looked at mine, and it helped him center himself a bit. It's barely noticeable."

I looked over at my brother. After sharing our entire lives, we could read each other like books (which made it so Chucking shocking that we kept getting away with lying to each other over and over). He was honestly in support of the idea, I could tell, so I shrugged and nodded.

"What do I need to do?"

Jack shifted forward, stretching a hand toward my forehead. "Just hold still, please. I'm new at this – well, I'm kind of new at everything, to be honest – but I didn't melt Sam's brain, so you should be fine."

He joked like someone unused to joking, like Cas had started to do after a decade of off-color, gallows-humor Winchester witticisms.

"Wait, brain-melting was a possibility?" Sam asked, shocked, and I grinned viciously at him as Jack's baby-soft, uncalloused fingers met my skin.

Science fiction tropes had me expecting to drown in waves of my own recollections, but Sam had been right: it was barely noticeable unless I focused on it.

Jack's burning eyes slid shut, and he breathed in and out. I was on the kitchen floor of a cabin in the woods where the President's mistress had just given birth to the son of Chuck's biggest mistake, but I was also, if I focused, holding Sam while Dad went back into our doomed house to try to save Mom, and then I was making sure that Sam ate all his cereal while we sat huddled in a cold hotel room, and then I was watching, as helpless to change the outcome this time as I had been when it had happened, as Sam and Dad had their final screaming match and he stormed out of our lives, off to college, and I was so proud and so desperately jealous of him simultaneously, and then Dad and I were riding through a warm summer night in Baby, him lecturing me on the best ways to deal with wendigos.

Then came Sam and Jess, our first hunt together in years, Sam losing Jess just like we'd lost Mom, and then the whole parade of The Winchesters vs. Evil, everyone we'd loved and lost over the past decade or so, Lisa and Ben, Bobby and Ellen and Jo, Kevin and Charlie, and a host of other faces. When he got to my stay in Hell, I zoned back into the kitchen. I would happily eat a plateful of glass and wash it down with a nice chaser of sulfuric acid if it meant never having to think about that place – and what I'd done there – ever again.

The absurdity of the situation made me smile again, as Jack's fingers stayed pressed to my forehead. First thing after this guy relaxed into trusting us, we were getting him some damn clothes. Top fucking priority. I met Sam's eyes, and he shrugged. Apparently I just had to wait this out.

After another minute or so, Jack let out a soft sigh and sat back, fingers dropping to his side.

"All good, kid?" I asked him.

Sam made a scoffing noise, the one he'd been perfecting over our years together to showcase his astonishment that I could say such things at exactly the wrong time. I always ignored it; I loved my brother, but that didn't mean I didn't still want to slap his Bitchface whenever he pulled it.

Apparently not having gotten the ignore him memo, Jack made a spluttering sound. "He did it! He made the noise!"

Sam and I exchanged confused looks. Jack hurried to explain.

"In your memories, he made that noise, and that face, over and over! This is the first time I've experienced it with my own senses. It's…" he trailed off, then looked down, embarrassed. "It's just kind of neat, that's all."

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man, no need to be ashamed of enjoying a new experience. Anyway, you're, like, twenty minutes old, so every experience is a new experience for you. There's no reason why you shouldn't have a childhood."

Jack turned his burning eyes up to Sam and held his gaze. "I saw what my father did to you when you were trapped with him, and I saw what your father did to both of your childhoods. Why should I get to enjoy myself when you've been through such misery?"

Sam didn't flinch. "Like I said, you're an innocent. Innocent until proven guilty."

I felt the need to change the subject. Who knew where an angst-spiral with a nephilim could drop us if we rode it all the way through?

"So, as a newborn, you're doin' pretty well with the whole … walking, talking, cognitive abilities thing, which babies are notoriously bad at. What level of development are we talkin' about here?"

Sam rolled his eyes at me, making Jack clap his hands ecstatically.

"The eye roll! Classic!"

Sam froze, just on the edge of blushing, which cracked me the hell up.

Jack turned back to me. "So you know how humans have souls, and angels have grace?"

Sam and I nodded in unison.

"Well, apparently – and this is based only on what I think I can feel, so don't hold me to it – I took some of my mother's soul and some of my father's grace, and made them into something of my own. This means I have Kelly's memories in the same way that I now have both of yours, and I have Lucifer's grace-memories, which seem to be stored a bit differently, as they cover a much longer time period. From these, I have a basic knowledge of human history and anatomy, though the intricacies of social interaction may take some practice to sharpen up."

He stopped, swallowed, looked at the floor, then glanced up at me through long eyelashes. "I also seem to have the grace-memories of the angel Castiel. I think he did it on purpose, but I'd have to sort through them all to know for sure."

An electric shock danced across my skin. Cas. Had he known? Had he known he was going to be taken from us? Had he known that the baby he was willing to die to protect wasn't going to be a baby for very long? Even at the very end, he was still trying to help, trying to counteract Lucifer's legacy with his own, a (former) lowly foot-soldier up against an archangel (also former).

Sam recovered first. "So. Jack. What would you like to do with your life?"

I held up a hand. "I vote clothes, and maybe actual chairs and some food for this discussion. It's important, wouldn't want you makin' any bad choices because you're naked and cold and sittin' on the cold hard ground."

Jack looked at me, expression unfathomable. I just shrugged. Jack turned back to Sam and nodded once. "I concur."

Kelly had stocked the kitchen well, for someone who had known she was going to die. Sam made pancakes.

"You never make pancakes back at the bunker," I accused. He started to roll his eyes, caught himself, glanced toward Jack – who was sitting at the kitchen table wearing a gray maternity tracksuit and watching us avidly – and cleared his throat instead.

"There aren't any newborns who've never tasted actual food with their actual mouths back at the bunker."

"You're really hypin' these pancakes, man. They better be worth it."

Jack jumped in before we could go too far down the sniping road. "He's right about the actually tasting with my actual mouth, though. All I have is your memories, and Dean – you really like pancakes."

I thought about it as Sam dished up the steaming discs and slid a few different bottles of syrup onto the table in front of us. "Hmm. I'd like to see that, a highlight reel of all the pancakes I've known and loved. Would be a nice way to spend an afternoon."

I caught Sam pre-eye-roll again, and snickered at his discomfort. "Montage of scoffing, I'll pass on, though."

"What if we auto-tuned it?" Jack threw in.

I turned to gape at him. When he started to look uncomfortable, I hurried to add, "Dude, that's genius!"

Sam didn't hold back the eye-roll this time. "Eat your pancakes, asshats. We have a lot of stuff to talk about."

I poured some boysenberry syrup on top of my pile, saluted him with my fork and dug in. Mmmm, worth the hype. I wondered which of his buttons I could push to get these more often. Averting the apocalypse definitely counted, but there had to be less extreme measures.

I glanced at Jack, who was similarly engrossed. Eyes closed, his peaceful blissed-out expression disguised the fact that he could destroy us both, and several square miles along with us, with a single thought.

Sam, looking proud of himself, drizzled some maple onto his and took dainty bites. Bitch, I thought fondly.

He'd probably made these for Jess. I was suddenly reminded of what he could have had if our lives had been different. Lazy Sunday mornings, waking up tangled in each other, no classes to worry about, him bringing her breakfast in bed, all of that and more ripped from him in one horrible moment because of a shitty decision our mother had made years before he was born.

Jack had stopped eating and was staring at me.

"Oh," I said, blinking at him. "Can you feel moods? That's awkward as hell."

Sam looked back and forth between us, lost. I waved him off and shoveled in more pancake.

Jack shrugged, digging back into his own plate but still glancing over at me. "I don't really know what I can do. I didn't even know I could do that. All I know is, I was eating pancakes, and having a great time, and I sort of sensed that you were eating pancakes, and having a great time, and then, you weren't having a great time any more."

"Yeah, we humans get struck with stray thoughts every now and then. You'll get used to it."

"Unless you don't," Sam threw in. "That's one of the things we need to talk about. How much of you is going to be human, and how much angel? Do you have healing powers? Do you even need to…" he gestured at the plates on the table, "you know, eat? Sleep? Breathe?"

Horrified, I stared at Jack. "When Cas powered back up, he said he missed the taste of food the way us lower life forms enjoyed it. All he could taste was the molecules, not the effect. I'd never heard anything so sad in my entire life, and you've seen the sad shit I've been through. You are actually tastin' those, right?"

Jack smiled at me. "I think I'm getting both worlds. I can taste the molecules, yeah, but I can also taste how they interact. It's kind of mind-blowing, actually."

Sam beamed.

"As far as the other things go, I'm not really sure. I'm going to need to actually sit somewhere quiet and sort of…" he made a shrugging gesture with his fork arm, "unpack the grace-memories to actually get any details out of them, but I get a general sense that as a species, nephilim have been pretty rare, and we've all been different."

"Like fictional vampires?" I asked.

Sam gaped at me. "What?" I asked defensively. "I read."

Jack nodded – he knew, he'd seen the books in my memories.

"I mean, like, there's the sparkly and the non-sparkly – shut up, Sammy, I didn't read those ones, I just heard about them – and there's the blood-drinkin' or not, the day-walkin' or not, the garlic-eatin' or reflectin'-in-mirrors kind or not, the sexy seducin' kind or the dead-and-rottin' kind, it all depends on who's writin' 'em. There's always the moment where they're explainin' how, yes, they're a vampire, to someone, and that person spouts off a common misconception, and they have to go, no, vampires aren't really like that, I'm actually like this."

Sam snorted, but Jack was nodding. "That's actually a pretty good comparison. I know Cas had to kill one when Metatron was using him, and I'm going to go over that bit when I get a chance, but I get the feeling she was nothing like me. She flew way under the radar. No one in Heaven seemed to even know about her at all until Metatron led Castiel right to her."

Sam's eyebrows scrunched. "Are you saying that Heaven knows about you?" He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. "Wait, are you tuned in to Angel Radio?"

I froze, turning to stare at Jack, mouth full of unchewed pancake.

Jack nodded. "If I focus. Otherwise it slips into static. Which is good, because they're all talking a lot, and it would get pretty distracting if I had to listen all the time."

"Can you broadcast, too, or just receive?" Sam asked. He waved his hands in the air quickly, trying to erase his words. "I don't mean try it now, they're probably pissed as hell and inclined to say mean things, I was just wondering."

Jack nodded. "I think it's a focus thing as well. I don't want to butt in unless I know what I'm going to say – I feel like a 'hi guys' wouldn't go over very well at the moment – but I'm pretty sure I can get through if I need to."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "That was a metaphor you used, by the way. 'Flying under the radar.' Cas never quite got the hang of metaphors, it's interesting that you're taking to them so quickly. Good thing, too," he added, slanting a glance at me. "This one over here abuses them worse than Dr. McCoy from Star Trek."

"My mother was a PR flack for the president of the United States, and I have her soul. If there's anyone that got how to say one thing and have it mean something else, it was her. I think I can speak Dean pretty well."

"Well, that's a relief," I said, mopping up the last of my syrup with my last bite of pancakes. "Maybe somebody will finally start appreciating my jokes."

"Don't hold your breath," Sam shot back. "You're doing dishes, by the way."

"You say that like I'm going to argue," I said. "Dude, you made friggin' pancakes. Take a load off, relax. I got this."

I picked up my plate, stood up from the table, and then a sort of shockwave ran through the room, and I got a weird feeling like the world had rearranged itself. The plate was gone from my hand, the table was cleared of dishes. I took a few steps to peek through the kitchen doorway, and the sink and stove were empty of pots or pans.

I looked back at Jack. If it had been my little brother, I would have just raised an eyebrow to imply my "what the fuck?," but I'd only known this kid for less than a day, so I had to say it out loud. "Dude, what the fuck?"

Jack wrung his hands. "I don't know! I just thought, it would be really great if the dishes were clean already, because I know we've got a lot to talk about and dish-washing seemed like such a time-suck, and then I felt sort of tingly all over, and then the dishes were gone."

I glanced over the kitchen one more time, looking for evidence of a fuck-up, the kind that usually accompanied people's first foray into the mystic arts, but everything looked tidy. Even the counters seemed to have been wiped clean. That had to have been Kelly's memories, because he sure as hell didn't get that from me or Sam.

I shrugged and turned back to the dining room. "I'm not gonna complain about not having to wash the dishes. Before we get down to business, though, can I go take care of something?"

I got two pairs of confused eyes, but I waved and turned away, heading through the living room to the front door.

Cas – or, I guess, Jimmy Novak's body – was still there, sprawled on the cold gravel. I stood over him for a moment, a moment I knew was short in real time, but in my head I let it elongate into a millennium, trying to stretch time so that I could feel it like he had felt it, alive and conscious for all that time but only truly able to think and feel for himself for the blink of an eye in comparison. I'd known him a third of my life, nothing at all to him but he'd given everything for me.

I let the howling void consume me for a minute. Even with everything we needed to address around that table inside, he deserved this much. A human minute. When it was over, I stuffed everything back inside, knelt, and heaved him over my shoulder.

Hefting him, I staggered a bit from his unexpected lightness. He'd always been denser than a regular human; a person giving him a hand up after a fight took a risk of being pulled down to join him instead. But now, with his grace departed at last, he felt like he weighed nothing at all.

I carried him back into the house, up the stairs, and laid him gently on the bed next to Kelly. I gave her a minute as well. She'd earned it, too.

Then, I headed back down the stairs, where the confused eyes had turned painfully knowing. I ignored them both and sat back down in my seat. "So. Plans?"

Sam turned to Jack. "You're the innocent, here. Our job is to protect you, to help you find your way in the world until you can fend for yourself."

Jack frowned at us both. "After everything you guys have been through, why is it still your jobs? When do you get to stop?"

I shook my head. "Can't stop. If we stop, there's nothing. No hope of Heaven, no threat of Hell, just gray nothing. Forever. I'd prefer to be here on Earth, living, suffering, savin' people. Maybe, if we're really really good, they'll revoke our sentence. Let us go to Heaven to meet back up with everyone we've lost. If we stop now, there's nothing waitin' for us. An eternity of complete void. We've been assured by a reliable source that there is no comin' back from it this time."

"Well, she's not coming back, either," added Sam with a grin, "so there's that going for us."

Jack tilted his head. "So I'm your ticket into Heaven?"

"What?" I spluttered. "What? You- I- We- No. Just, no. That's not at all- I can't-"

Smiling, Jack waved a hand. "Relax, I've been in your head. I know you don't see the world like that. I'm a person to both of you, I know that. I'm just trying out this whole 'teasing' thing us humans do."

He made air quotes like Cas. Another small part of my insides tore off and fell into the swirling emptiness in my gut. Not his fault, I reminded myself.

Jack's eyes turned to me, sensing my mood shift, but I waved him off. "Naw, man, that's on me. I can't go around gettin' upset every time someone uses finger quotes. It's the same for when, for the rest of my life, people are going to say, Hello, Dean to me. It's gonna happen. It was a good joke."

Sam's eyes were warm and soft with understanding, and I wanted to throw up.

"Chick flick moment's over. Let's get to the point. Jack, you need to learn how to use your body, from experience, not just from other people's memories. People – and non-people – are going to come for you, and come hard, for the rest of your life – which might or might not be a very long time, depending on what your actual abilities are. Sam and I can help you build your strength, train you on weapons, teach you about how to get along as a human."

I sent a sardonic glance at my brother, and he grinned back. What the fuck did we know about getting along as humans? We lived in a goddamned bunker, for Chuck's sake. One with amazing, cloud-like memory-foam mattresses, to be sure, but a bunker nonetheless. We'd blasted our way out of it with a grenade launcher only a month ago, just to prove that point.

Jack was watching our wordless exchange, fascinated. "That," he said. "I want that. I want to be able to hold an entire conversation with someone without using words."

"That comes with familiarity," said Sam. "You'll get there."

Jack looked skeptical. "You saw what I did with the dishes. I'm going to be a shining beacon for all those people trying to kill me." His eyes widened. "Oh, no, I'm probably bringing them right to our door! They could be surrounding the house right now!"

He started to get to his feet, but Sam reached over and put a hand on his arm.

"Do you have so little faith in Cas and Kelly? I am absolutely certain that they warded this place. There is no place safer for you than right here. If you use enough power, you could probably blow the wards, and then we'd have to vacate, but I have no doubt that if that happened, it would come with a warning of some sort. Cas and Kelly believed in you. They gave their lives so that you would survive. They wouldn't bring you into the world just to let someone take you out so easily."

"Listen in on Angel Radio," I told him. "I know they're upset, and also total dicks, but if they knew where you were, do you think they'd be staying away?"

Jack paused a moment, his focus turning inward. Then, he shook his head. "They're at a loss, it seems. Making a lot of threats that involve 'if we find him.'"

Sam nodded sagely. "So we've got time. Dean and I can help you integrate, but you have to pick what you want to do. You look like you're in your early twenties, so you could go to college, or live like you already graduated, it's up to you where you want to jump in."

"One of us will stay here with you, to help train you, and the other one should go back to the bunker and hit the books. We're going to need a crapload of research if we're ever gonna give you the chance to walk free under the sun. Do you have a preference? No pressure, neither of us is going to get offended, no matter which way you pick."

Jack looked uncomfortable. After a pause, he said, "Dean, can you stay with me?" He turned to Sam, waving his arms. "Please, I just know from your memories that you actually enjoy research, while Dean is always happier when he's got something physical to accomplish."

Sam nodded. "Dude, it's ok. I totally agree. I'll head back to the bunker in the morning."

Jack turned back to me. "Let's start with the getting to know my own body," he said. "I'm going to need to unpack the grace-memories I've got stuffed in my head, both Castiel's and my father's. They're going to change how I see things."

I exchanged an alarmed glance with my brother.

Jack saw it and nodded anyway. "I can't promise that Lucifer's memories won't alter me, but I know that I have both of you, and my mother, and Castiel, to fall back on. I doubt that just his memories can sway me entirely. My mother believed in me, so much so that I can still feel it burning in her soul. My soul, now. Castiel did, too. That's going to have to be enough."

"Just remember that every person has their own struggles," I said. "That's what Lucy always lost sight of. Thought he could squash humanity, faceless, as one huge unit, and he never stopped to think of the individuals he was wiping away forever."

Jack looked at me, thoughtful. "Thank you, Dean. I believe that will help."

Jack went upstairs to meditate, to reconcile the many and varied worldviews he contained within himself, and Sam and I bedded down for the night. We rock-paper-scissors'ed for the remaining bed – I lost, of course – and then I grabbed some blankets and pillows from an upstairs linen closet.

The house had three bedrooms, two upstairs and one downstairs. There were dead people taking up one of the upstairs beds, and a meditating and possibly mutating nephilim taking up the other one. I checked in on him on my way back down to the couch I'd claimed for the evening, mentioned how even if he wasn't planning on falling asleep, his ass cheeks certainly would if he insisted on sitting on the floor all night without a cushion, and then left him alone.

I met Sam in the hallway downstairs, and we exchanged worried glances. We were about to go to sleep in a house with a being of unimaginable power possibly turning into an even more powerful version of Lucifer just above our heads. But then, we were Winchesters. Beating the odds was kind of our thing, after all.

I spread the blankets on the couch, laid down, and was out like a goddamn light within seconds.

I woke up in the morning.

That in itself was kind of a relief.

I took a moment to reflect on the kind of life I led, such that the mere fact of waking up was a cause for celebration, then shrugged my shoulders into my couch-nest and moved on with my day.

Sam had awakened before me, taken Baby, and gone without saying goodbye. I texted him a single word, starting with a b, to let him know my feelings about that, but he was right. We were trying to lay low, and by now, every supernatural creature in the country should know the make and model of the Winchesters' car.

Wouldn't it be the worst case of irony, if our location was discovered because of my goddamn vanity? I'd make due with Cas's pimpmobile until I could locate and liberate something less conspicuous.

As I was standing in the doorway, looking out on the driveway that was very obviously missing a shiny, well-preserved Impala, another weird shiver ran through the fabric of space around me.

I spun and sprinted for the stairs without a second of hesitation. "Jack?" I yelled, thumping up them in my stockings, trying not to slip and crack my face open. "Jack, is everything ok?"

He was standing in the doorway of the other bedroom, the one hosting the people we'd lost. To my shock, he turned to me with a proud smile.

"I did a thing," he said. "Come and see."

I stepped around him. Kelly lay as she had last night, a little paler, a little more bloated, but Cas. Cas was sheathed in diamond.

A sparkling coffin encased him, rough for most of its length but clear as glass over his face. I had a thought, a niggling memory, of "teaching Sam to read." In reality, Sam had found out at about the age of ten, with me being fourteen or so, that schoolwork wasn't high on my priority list when he'd caught me struggling to go through a menu to pick out takeout for dinner.

Without saying anything to me or Dad, he'd suddenly become very insistent that I help him practice his reading skills. He'd picked easy books to start, books that I had been pretty sure he'd devoured multiple times already, but I'd been too pathetically grateful for the opportunity to mention that I knew.

Over the years, we'd gone through youth fiction, Narnia, things like that, and somewhere during those backwards times where my brother had looked out for me, we'd crossed Eragon.

Dragons were fucking awesome. Dad would never let us have a pet, not even something small like a hamster or rat, but I swear, I never wanted anything more than like what Eragon had with Saphira.

That want had never really stopped. When I had found Cas – rather, when Cas has found me – I found my profound bond. It just hadn't occurred to me, what we had, until it was too late.

I stamped on the void, ignoring its whirlpool tug, and followed the memory back. In the books, when Eragon's mentor/father had died, Saphira had used her dragon magic to preserve him just like this. She hadn't known how she had done it – both she and Eragon were mostly untrained at the time – but he had been kind to them both and she had wanted to keep him somehow.

I crept closer across the dim room, curtains closed against the morning light. Cas's face was so still and peaceful, with his dark hair tumbled roughly down over his forehead. I reached out, wanting to lay my palm flat across the clear window, wanting to be close to him again, my other half, but Jack's hand closed around my wrist before I could touch it.

I turned to him, concerned, but he just looked a complicated combination of sheepish and proud.

"So, part of this thing I did is that it will dissolve if it's touched by Castiel's grace."

My eyes widened, and I looked back down at the diamond coffin, and then back at Jack.

"So, you think…"

Jack shrugged. "He's come back before, so many times. Either my grandfather will help, or he'll find his own way back, or you and Sam will do it for him. I just wanted him to have something familiar to come back to when he gets here. This way, his body will be protected until he touches it, and then he can walk free."

I was speechless for a second, but then I wiggled the wrist still in Jack's slightly spindly grasp. "And this?"

Jack let go and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Um, yeah. Side effect that I didn't account for. I've been touched by Castiel's grace in a major way, and I'm technically still carrying a lot of it with me – or, if not the grace itself, at least a good enough approximation that the spell will be fooled. So are you, by the way, in all the patched-up places of your soul. Sam, too. I don't actually know how we're going to move him, when it's time for us to leave this place. Maybe wrap him in blankets and call a moving company?"

I placed a hand over my chest. The patched-up places of my soul. Yes, that sounded right. His loss had torn them open again, but Jack was right. He wasn't gone forever. Somehow, some day, we'd find our way back to each other.

For a brief moment, I considered that other universe on the other side of the golden glowing line ripped in the fabric of space-time by Jack's power. Bobby was there, alive and well, so it stood to reason that there might be another Cas, another Charlie, another Kevin.

Then I stomped on that as well. They might be there, but they wouldn't be ours. They wouldn't have shared our experiences.

"Thinking about MirrorVerse?" asked Jack.

"Damn, you're good," I replied, surprised.

He shrugged. "I think about it, too. Kelly believed that I could save the world, bring sunshine and happiness and rainbows to everyone, but she didn't know about the other worlds. What if, what Castiel saw, the peace I am destined to bring, isn't to this world at all? What if it's to that one?"

I shook my head, gaze dropping to his mother's still form. "Leave that other world to me and Sam. You just need to get yourself together, livin' the life you think you need to live. Sam and I will figure out how to get our mom back."

Jack looked startled. "You think Lucifer has let her live?"

"I'm certain of it. He knows we'll come for her, and he knows that if she isn't alive, then we're leaving and closin' the door behind us, forever. The only question for me and Sam to figure out is, how do we work that door?"

Jack wiggled his fingers at me. "I volunteer. No, really," he spoke over the protests I started to make, "after spending all that time going through all the information I have, I know it's the right thing to do, and I know I must do the right thing. I'd be happy to help you get your mom back."

His gaze dropped. "Can you help me send Kelly off properly? You and Sam have memories of hunter's funerals, maybe something like that?"

"Of course, man. We'll take care of it today."

He nodded gratefully. "Thank you. And I know that she recorded a few messages for me to listen to, so I want to do that as well."

"Sure, I'll get everything set up while you do that, and you can come find me when you're ready."

We burned Kelly on a pyre as close to the house as I dared build it. I had no idea what the nature of the anti-detection wards were, or if they had a distance limit, so I didn't want to push our luck.

Jack and I stood shoulder to shoulder, silent, watching the flames. I stared into them, trying to draw in their warmth. He seemed to be taking it pretty well, considering he'd just spent twenty minutes watching what were undoubtedly tearful videos left to him by a mother he would never meet.

He spoke without taking his eyes off of the pyre. "She's not gone, not really. And not in the platitude-y way that people use at funerals. A part of her soul is literally still with me. I can feel her." He raised a hand to his chest. "In here."

"That's a very healthy attitude," I murmured, impressed.

We watched the flames a while longer, and I took a minute to feel grateful to Cas and Kelly for their isolated location choice. It wouldn't do to have neighbors coming over to complain. Getting arrested for burning a body would not have been too good for our reputations, and who knew how long we were going to need to stay here.

When the fire started to die down a bit, I said, "I need to go into town to get some supplies. Will you be OK here on your own?"

He nodded. "I can spend more time in the grace-memories – they're going to take me several lifetimes to fully understand. Bring me some clothes, okay?"

"Yeah, man, the whole shebang. Underwear, socks, shoes. What size are you, do you know?"

He glanced down at our feet. Taking the hint, I knelt and unlaced my boot, handing it over to him. He slipped it over his pale, bare foot, which had been wiggling in the cold grass, and hummed consideringly. "I think this is a bit too big, maybe a size smaller?"

He handed it back to me, and I laced it back up. "I can always return anything I buy, so we'll experiment a little bit. Anything else in particular that you want?"

He looked a little shy. "Just come back soon, okay?"

The nearest town was a little over a half-hour away. It was big enough to support a Target, but not much bigger, with one main street running straight up the middle. There was a mall at one end, and a nice-looking park at the other. We were basically starting from scratch, both of us – all of my stuff was several hundred miles away, back in Kansas.

At the Target, I paused in the electronic doorway, considering. Then I shrugged, gave in to necessity, and pulled a cart from the row. I'd never needed enough at Target to take a cart before, but then, I'd never been given the responsibility of raising an actual person before, either.

I threw several six-packs of white, gray, and black t-shirts into the cart, in medium for him and large for me, and tossed in a ton of packages of socks and boxers on top of them. I grabbed him a few hoodies, some sweatpants in what I hoped was his size, and a pair of size-9 tennis shoes for him, and one in size 10 for me.

I was almost out of the clothing area when my eye snagged on a rack of flannel overshirts in various plaid colors. I acquiesced to the voice in my head and picked out a few of those in both of our sizes as well.

Then I moved on to the toiletries area, picking out toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner, soap, basically anything that, once noticed, I realized I really needed. I suddenly understood every chick's lament about Target runs.

Laundry detergent, I suddenly thought as I was walking past a large display thereof. Totally need that.

And a full set of Tupperware.

Once I'd made it out of the pharmaceutical area, I went up and down the food aisles. The cabin was pretty well stocked, and I didn't think we needed much, but if I was going to help the kid get healthy, I might as well do it too. It's not like I was in terrible shape, but I wasn't going to be a hypocrite gym teacher, barking orders while sitting on my ass. I had to step up.

I paused briefly next to the booze, then made a really big decision, and kept on walking. The kid needed me, clean and sober, and damned if I wasn't going to be there for him. When the nightmares came back, like they always did, I'd deal with them.

Among other various things, I dumped some chicken, minute rice, and canned veggies into the cart, and some bottles of salad dressing for marinades, and then swung back through the appliances section and grabbed the George Foreman grill that I'd always wanted. I held the box in my hands, looking down at George's smiling face, and I smiled back at him. The circumstances behind me getting to raise a child were definitely wonky, but I was going to be as domestic as I knew how to be.

The town was small enough that I could feel people giving me odd looks, as if they knew that they'd never seen me before. I smiled at them, handing out nods like a grand marshal at the Rose Parade, trying to ignore the way their eyebrows pulled together as they processed the contents of my cart.

"Just moving in?" the cashier asked, being friendly, making nice as she ran an entire household of items across her scanner. One glance of eye contact, then back on her hands, probably just like they taught in the handbook, nothing to be suspicious of.

"Yeah, rentin' one of the cabins out by the lake," I told her. "Came up with some friends for a few days, but they've all gone, and I decided I like it here, so I'm stayin' on. It's kind of exciting, just running away and startin' over somewhere."

That brought me a second, unscripted bit of eye contact. "Just like that?" she asked.

I shrugged, as casually as I could. "I'm a writer," I bullshitted. "I can do my job anywhere that makes me feel inspired. The cabin is just what I need to really get into my new story. Didn't want to leave it long enough to make the trip back to my apartment to grab my stuff, so here we are."

Her hands had passed the shirts in two different sizes over the scanner while she was staring at me. Success. But then she got to the two different pairs of shoes, and she faltered.

"I can return whichever of those doesn't fit, as long as they haven't been worn and I have the receipt, right?" I asked her.

Her smile returned. "Absolutely." She glanced down at my boots, nodded to herself, satisfied that I hadn't bought tennis shoes in a while and had forgotten my size, and then finished scanning the rest of my items.

"Do you want any bags?"

I looked around, then grabbed a few of the canvas reusable bags from their rack beside the checkout stand. "I'll take these as well. This might be the biggest shopping trip I've ever made, so whatever doesn't fit, plastic is fine."

The rest of the shopping trip went off without a hitch. A while back, Sam had done some digging into some of the Men of Letters' less licit files and located a spell that would refill a bank account, so he'd set up a magical American Express Black Card that we could use to pay for things when cash wouldn't cover it. We tried not to abuse it, since we knew better than most the consequences of magic, but it sure as hell came in handy in times like these.

Plus, it impressed the fuck out of chicks in bars.

Shadows were getting longer, though the sun was hours from setting, by the time I got back out to the lake. Jack came out when he heard the car pull up the gravel driveway and helped me haul our new loot into the house.

"Sam took Baby," he offered as an opening, apparently in case I wanted to bitch about it. He knew what Baby meant to me, he'd seen us go through some real shit together in every single set of memories he possessed.

I grunted noncommittally, then remembered that Jack didn't know my monosyllabic language and had to explain about the irony and the vanity. "He's probably not even gonna drive her," I added. "Probably gonna lock her up in the bunker's underground garage. Bitch better remember to take care of her."

We dropped the last of the bags onto the kitchen table. "So," I asked him, as he sorted through everything and started separating the food from the supplies, then the clothes from the chemicals. "What are your thoughts on three square meals a day? Need or not need?"

"I'm thinking I will probably be able to get by on less as I get better at managing my energy, but I'm running behind at the moment. I think it took a lot out of me to grow up so fast, and I'm going to need even more when I'm working with you on getting stronger. Let's just assume I'll eat when you eat, and if I don't think I need it, I won't."

He held up the Tupperware, grinning. "Looks like you thought of that as well."

I grinned back. "Don't get your hopes up too high. I'm complete crap at cooking, as far as I know. We're going to be learning how to do this together, sorry. I'm great at killin' things. Cookin' 'em, not so much. But I didn't kill Sam, and he's like eight feet tall now, so I must have done somethin' right."

Jack snickered. I knew there was something I liked about this kid.

"So I got us a grill, and I know how to marinate chicken, and I figure if we have a protein and a vegetable for dinner every night, Sam can't accuse me of trying to give you early-onset heart disease. You can let me know when you get bored with it, and we can try something else. There's this amazing thing called the internet, you've probably heard of it, and I think it's got some ideas how we can keep ourselves fed."

"Hey, you got us peanut butter and jelly!" Jack exclaimed happily, pulling the jars out of one of the bags.

I shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I couldn't think of anything else that said 'lunch' to me, so here we are. I hope you don't have any allergies, they didn't sell angelic epi-pens at Target."

Jack gave me Sam's eye-roll, which was disorienting as fuck.

We started putting the food away, milk and juice and meat in the fridge, non-perishables in the pantry, and then carted the clothes into the tiny room off the back of the kitchen, where a shiny washer-dryer set lurked.

Jack looked at me expectantly, so I put on an air of I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing and started ripping open packages and dumping our new wardrobe onto the floor.

Once I'd finished, Jack looked over our bounty. "Pretty monochromatic theme you've picked for us."

"Thought I'd give you time to learn a bit about the world before I went and made decisions like that for you. A man's wardrobe is a personal thing that reflects his own tastes." Holy shit, I sounded pretentious. Is this what teachers felt like, but on purpose? "Like, I didn't want to get you a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and then when you listen to them with your own ears, you decide you hate Led Zeppelin."

I dropped the box of Tide I'd been squinting at the back of, struck with sudden horror. "Please, for Chuck's sake, I hope you like Led Zeppelin. I don't think I could take it if you didn't."

Jack raised an eyebrow at me, another of Sam's favorites for when he thought I was being thick. "One, I have your and Sam's good memories associated with your music already, so that shouldn't be a problem, and, two, are you going to use my grandfather's name in vain like that all the time?"

I shrugged, not even sorry. "The dude put his feet on my living room table – in socks. He drank my beer, ate my food, flat-out told me to call him Chuck. I've found it hard to call him God or associate him with any sort of organized religion since then."

I looked at Jack, a little sideways. "Also, I have this vague notion that you shouldn't curse around a child, and I'm finding that difficult, because one, there's never been a time when I haven't cursed, and also, you don't look like a friggin' child, so I'm havin' a hard time remembering to watch my language. And, three, your dad was the actual King of Hell, and a son of Heaven, so most of my favorite curse words are potentially offensive to you, so I'm trying to avoid them."

Jack nodded. "I appreciate the effort, and I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to keep trying. When you mention Hell so casually, all I can think about is the time both you and Sam spent there, and how much it messed you up. I know you tend to bottle up your emotions, to make light of the things that are actually really bothering you, so when you're being so casual about it, I just don't know if you're hiding something."

"Fair enough," I acquiesced, startled at the depth of his insight. "I'll come up with some colorful alternatives. Now, how about I figure out this laundry business, and you go put some chicken in to marinate for a bit? Just find a bowl or a Zip-loc bag, put in two pieces of chicken, dump in a bottle of salad dressing, and put it in the fridge. You know what? Better do up a couple, so that we'll have something to work with tomorrow, too."

He nodded, and left me alone with the silent, new-cotton-smelling heaps. I heard him rattling around in the kitchen while I sorted the socks into their own pile ("socks and towels are washed in hot water," said Sam's voice in my head), the pants into a second ("pants are done in cold"), and left the shirts in a third ("delicate wash for everything else").

Then I looked at the single washer-dryer, and up at a plain-faced clock on the wall. Then I shoved everything back into a single pile and dumped it all into the washing machine. I added the largest recommended amount of detergent, set the dial to cold, regular, and set the whole shebang in motion.

There were a few beats of silence, the sound of water gurgling through pipes, and then the machine started up with a reassuring hum.

Satisfied, I went to see how Jack was faring.

"Here's my laptop," I said, sliding it over the table to him. "I figure, we can spend most of the day on physical fitness, but you need to stay connected to the world if you're ever going to be a real part of it. We can dedicate any leftover time each day, or times when you don't feel like you need to sleep but I do, to research and education."

Jack eyed the slim silver object like it was a venomous spider. "I know what the internet's like, are you sure that's such a good idea? I might come across a troll that makes me decide that humanity has no value after all."

"Even so," I said, nudging it toward him a bit more. "If you do find someone who fills you with genocidal rage, then look at cute pictures of cats for a while. Balance is important. Do I need to warn you about porn sites?"

Jack tilted his head. "I hadn't really thought about it. I think I'm more angelic than human in terms of sex drive, at least, that I've noticed so far. I mean, 'it' hasn't … responded … to anything so far."

I heard his unspoken comment on angelic sex drives, or lack thereof, and tucked it away. Even if Cas had wanted me in that way when he'd been human, I'd been too hung up on my own bullshit to take that chance, and I'd missed it, like I'd missed everything else with him.

"It's called a penis, dude. It's normal, it's natural, and it's bullshit that humans have this taboo about talking about it. I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable about anything you have questions about. Granted, there are some things that Sam is much better at than me, but I will give you my best shot, without judgment."

Jack looked shifty. "After going through some of Lucifer's memories of his time with Sam, I'm not sure how comfortable I am talking to him about anything. I was in his head, so I know he doesn't blame me, but I blame me! What my father did, it was so …" Jack strained for any other word, but I figured I already knew where he was going, "so fucked up. He put Sam in an insane asylum. Castiel had to partition his brain to get him to function again!"

"All the more reason you should talk with him," I said, not really surprised. "I think he left us one of the spare cell phones, so you can call or text him whenever anything comes up that you don't think I'm suited to help with."

He shrugged. "Yeah, okay." It wasn't a guarantee, but it was better than nothing. I'd make myself talk about penises like it was easy for me if that's what the kid needed, but feelings were something else. I'd give it the old College Try, but we both knew it was really more my brother's department.

"Use the laptop. There are forum sites, like Reddit, or just people posting random crap sites, like Imgur, or verifiable news sites that you can browse in order to get general knowledge. Or just search Wikipedia if you want to know more about anything in particular, and then follow links within articles, and then links within those articles, if you need to kill a few hours."

I checked my watch. "I'm going to get the grill washed and set up, and then I'm going to make dinner. You and the laptop get acquainted."

With much box-reading, creative cursing, and an accidentally soaked shirt, and with a pause in the middle to put most of the laundry into the dryer and hang up the flannel shirts to dry, I finally got dinner onto the table. Jack had kept one eye on me and one eye on whatever he had pulled up on the screen, so I called that a learning win for both of us.

After dinner, I handed him a toothbrush. He raised an eyebrow at me, hefting it dubiously.

"Look, kid, I don't know if angelic powers prevent tooth decay. It's simple and easy, and it can't hurt to try."

He shrugged good-naturedly.

"And the shower, any interest in tryin' it out? I got shampoo, conditioner, all that crap."

"That seems to be therapeutic as well as actively cleansing, so yes, I think I will participate."

"Well, I usually shower at night, but some people shower mornings, so that can be up to you. Do you want to go first?"

He looked down at his hands, shrugged undoubtedly grimy shoulders inside his inherited clothing. "Yes. I believe that would be nice."

"Okay. You go take care of yourself, I'll clean up in here. The dryer should be done soon, so I'll leave some pajamas for you on the sink outside the shower."

"Thanks, Dean."

He grabbed the shower gear and headed out. I went over the kitchen counters with a soapy sponge and loaded the dishwasher up, then stood in the doorway, hands on hips, feeling proud of myself, until the dryer made its horrible buzzing noise.

Then, I folded shirts and boxers, and I paired socks together, and I felt like Martha fucking Stewart. When I'd folded the pants and soft tee that I'd intended as pajamas, I added a pair of boxers and socks, crept into the steam-filled upstairs bathroom, and left the stack on the sink before sneaking back out.

Or, at least, trying to sneak. "Thank you!" he called as I closed the door.

I woke up pretty early – for me, anyway – the next morning, and went into the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker I'd noted the day before.

Jack was already up, eating a bowl of cereal and tapping away on the laptop.

Nodding a good morning at him, I poured water and grounds into the appropriate reservoirs and pushed the GO button, then stared at it while it percolated, producing that miraculous nectar of life.

I stared at the machine, then I stared through it, picturing how it got here: Cas and Kelly, shopping together like newlyweds setting up a household. The image gave me an unexpected stab of jealousy, and behind me I heard Jack stop chewing.

Then I thought about it some more. Cas hadn't needed coffee, juiced up beyond full power as he had been. Kelly had been pregnant, and I'd heard somewhere that pregnant women didn't drink coffee – though she probably shouldn't have been too worried about causing birth defects in a nephilim. So why buy a coffee maker – not to mention, coffee and filters – if neither of them was going to use it?

Ah. Dammit, Cas. He'd done it for me. Well, me and Sam. The jealous feeling popped like a soap bubble, and the void inside me surged outward.

Nope, I told it. Not a chance, haven't even had my coffee yet. It allowed itself to be beaten back down, sullenly, it felt, and I went to search the cupboards for a mug. Jack was silent a moment longer, and I felt his eyes on my back, but then the clicking of the laptop keys and the clinking of spoon in bowl resumed.

I found the mug cupboard, turned to Jack, raised an eyebrow. "Any interest in coffee?"

He made a face. "I think it might be the wrong kind of energy for me. I'll hold off on artificial stimulants until I know for sure I've got a handle on everything."

"Good plan," I said, grabbing a single mug. I filled a bowl of cereal for myself, poured myself a cup of coffee from the still-dripping machine, poured some milk into both, and settled down at the table with Jack, thumbing through current events on my phone.

I sent a text to Sam giving him an update ("Still alive, eating healthy, go figure"). I felt Jack's eyes on me again while I did it, even though he was engrossed in the laptop when I glanced up at him.

"My phone is always available for you to look through, if you ever have even the slightest doubt about my intentions," I told him. "If you want to check my text history with Sam, go ahead, that's fine. Though I will have to work with you on privacy, and what things can go unsaid. Cas never quite got the hang of that one."

Jack's eyes went wide. "You don't have to-"

"It's fine. You might start to feel like you're reliant on my good intentions, so I want to nip any lurking resentment in the bud."

His shoulders sagged. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"And text Sam. Whenever you want. He loves his research, but he loves a good interruption, too."

He shrugged back at me. "Got it. So, what's on the agenda today?"

"I figured we'd start with a little light yoga, some stretching, while we digest – and while my coffee gets to work. Then some cardio and some strength training, just to see where you're starting from. I'm going to be working out with you, if that's okay. It's been one crisis after another for such a long friggin' time, I know I'm fit enough to get the job done, but I could be better.

"We're limited in what we can do, based on the space available, and because we don't know how far outside the house you can get without leavin' the wards. That's one of Sam's top priorities for research – what wards Cas used, what exactly they're doin' for us, and what their effective ranges are. Once he knows what wards are effective, he can scrawl 'em up in the bunker and we can go home. Once he figures out a traveling ward, of course."

Jack nodded, then waggled his eyebrows at me. "So. Yoga?"

"Hey, I don't watch the videos just for the chicks in tight pants. I learned a thing or two as well, along the way. Get your comfy pants on, shoes off, and meet me in the living room. I'm going to rearrange the furniture to give us some space, and get some tunes going."

If this had been a movie, here's the part where we would have inserted a cheesy training montage, preferably set to Eye of the Tiger. Unfortunately, we weren't in a movie, so we had to creep along at a snail's pace, step by agonizing step.

We started with stretching, and Jack was immediately frustrated by how he couldn't reach as far as I could.

"Flexibility isn't something that happens overnight," I told him. "I worked long and hard to achieve this, and it takes upkeep as well. If we do this every day, you'll see improvement, I promise."

Then there was the yoga, and some tai chi videos I pulled up on the laptop.

"Endurance doesn't happen overnight," I told him as he massaged his twitching hamstrings. I skipped the rest of the speech – his irritated huff told me he didn't need it.

Then we ran laps around the house, as close in as we could. "Shut up," he panted at me. "Just don't even say it."

"Look, kid, you've literally never pushed your body before. I've had several decades experience, which is why I'm teachin' you, and not the other way around. If it makes you feel better, you're light-years ahead of any kid your age on the entire planet."

That tricked a smile onto his grumpy face, and we went on to planks, pushups, sit-ups, and wall squats.

I was exhausted at the end of each day, but the sense of satisfaction I got, seeing him improve by increments, was like no feeling I'd ever had before, not even when I was taking care of Sam as a kid.

And so what if I sometimes opened the fridge to grab a beer that wasn't there, or if I patted at a pocket that no longer contained a flask of whiskey, just out of sheer habit. Jack didn't judge me for it, and even though the nightmares crowded back in at night, I was still healthier than any former alcoholic had any right to be, thanks to Cas's final fix-me-up.

I knew that at least some of those Hellscape visions of my cruel teacher and our hapless prey had to be strong enough to wake him up, though he'd kept the upstairs bedroom and I'd taken over the one downstairs, but he never mentioned them in the mornings. He just gave me extra body contact, like a pat on the shoulder or a squeeze to my upper arm. It felt nice, real, something to hold onto against the remembered horrors.

I bought an extremely secure security system a few weeks in, along with several wireless cameras to hide in the surrounding woods that fed to my laptop and phone. I worked all afternoon, up and down a ladder hastily purchased at the town's Home Depot, until my quads and lower back ached like a bitch. Until I was absolutely certain there were no blind spots.

If anyone came at us from any direction, the sky included, I would see them coming, and I would be ready.

I gave Sam the password, in case we went dark and he needed to review the feeds to figure out what had happened to us.

Sam texted a few weeks in to let us know he'd discovered that large bodies of water had scattering effects on scrying spells, and that if Jack wanted to go for a swim, as long as he didn't linger too long in the space between the house and the lake, he should still be safe, and could stay out as long as he wanted.

I'd never seen the kid move that fast before. I could have sworn I saw little cartoon puffs of dust in the space where he'd been standing when we read the text. I followed the trail of clothes out of the house, down the back porch, and stopped by his shoes, lying abandoned and catawampus at the edge of the water.

Then I stared at his incredibly pale back, as he stood frozen, the water lapping at the bottom edge of his boxers.

"Dean?" he asked without turning around.

"Yeah, kid, I'm right here."

"Can angels swim, do you know?" It was his brave voice, the one he used when we were about to discover if something came down on one side or the other of his dual nature.

"Cas's bones were pretty dense, and he sank like a stone when he-"

Memories of a tan trench coat floating on top of a spreading inkstain in a reservoir plugged my throat. I coughed, pushed it away.

"You do seem a little dense for your size," I managed to add, "but it should be ok. We can stay in the shallows until you feel comfortable. And I know CPR if you accidentally go under. Learned it for Sam when he was a kid."

"You'll come out, too?"

I was already pulling off my shirt. "Heck yes. I friggin' hate running, and if there's a better way for us to get our cardio in, sign me the chocolate fudge up right now."

That's also how we discovered that he had accelerated healing, because even though he went to bed that night as red as a lobster, he got up the next morning unscathed, if a tiny bit browner.

Didn't stop me from trying to make him wear sunscreen, though.

We discovered one night while we were making dinner that Jack was a bit lacking in the hand-eye coordination department.

He apologized profusely as I mopped up the shards and goop that had once been a jar of garden-veggies-style pasta sauce. I'd tossed it to him, and he'd juggled it, hands desperately fumbling, but then there had been a terrible crash that might have actually cracked a floor tile.

"No worries, kid. I guess I should have kept lookin' through those "What to Expect" books anyway, because I'm pretty sure they mentioned something about this. I don't think puttin' square pegs in square holes is the ticket for you, though."

He let out a sort of despairing wail, staring at his hands as if they'd betrayed him.

"It's cool, I know the perfect thing. I'll head into town first thing tomorrow. Sam had some suggestions about healthy foods we could add to our menu for a little variety, so I can pick those up while I'm out and you can chill with some Netflix. Tell me where you're at with Firefly?"

I hit up the sporting goods store the next morning: baseballs and two mitts, a bat in case we ever figured out how to stray from the house, a good quality football, some fishing gear, a few light-up things to dive for, for fun.

The dude at the checkout raised an eyebrow at me. Remembering the small-town vibe I'd picked up at the Target, I gave him an embarrassed grin. "My nephew is out visiting me. I'm hoping for some good, solid, outdoor bonding time. You know how obsessed kids these days are with their phones."

It worked like a charm.

Then I swung back past the grocery store to refill on some things we'd run out of, and to seek out some of Sam's suggestions, though I'd told him I'd go down on all fours on the lawn and eat grass before I'd ever willingly eat kale.

We weren't doing too badly, cuisine-wise. We were both getting better at it, and we hadn't burned anything in almost a month.

We started close in, tossing the small white sphere gently to each other, fumbling the catches in the stiff leather mitts, but as we broke them in, and he got better at it, we moved farther apart. I positioned him close to the house, next to a bit without windows, while I backed up across the driveway. Every day, I got a little further away. When he was chasing down a fumbled catch, I had to snort back the moisture that sprang up in my sinuses, thinking of Bobby and how he had yelled at my father for not teaching us this himself.

"I'll be damned if those boys won't get this, after everythin' else you've robbed from them. No, no, go on. Go chase your damned lead on your damned personal demon. Leave them boys with me, I'll see 'em right, even if you cain't be bothered to remember that they're actually children!"

I still wondered about their relationship every so often. "Uncle" Bobby had been more of an actual father to us than Dad had, at times, but Dad had always come back for us. He only left us behind when he was either doing something he thought might get us hurt, or when he thought there was a chance he might not come back at all. Bobby was just happy to see us. We hadn't known, then, about his wife, about the chance at a family of his own that had been robbed from him.

That made me think about MirrorVerse Bobby, and how we might see him again someday in the not-too-distant future, might save him this time around, but a shout of "head's up!" had me reining in my wandering thoughts, and I got my glove up just before the ball could hit me in the face.

"Nice throw!" I shouted back.

Jack glowed at me.

He did that sometimes, the glowing. When he was really excited about something, or proud of himself, or was listening to a particularly good bit of classic rock, or if a particular food experiment had turned out delicious, he glowed with his whole being. It was subtle in his skin, and particularly concentrated in his eyes. If he looked at you when his eyes were lit up, he could throw actual shadows on the wall behind you.

It embarrassed him, but I found it endearing. He always apologized afterward, said he could feel the wards straining around his outbursts, but Sam had reckoned he might be closing in on which wards Cas had used, so I told him not to worry, we could always redraw them later if he ever got too excited.

When I deemed Jack passable at aiming, I started him on weaponry. It was his idea, said he wanted to learn Hunting skills. I felt suddenly like my own mother, sick to my stomach at the thought of this innocent child in The Life, but he deserved the means to protect himself at the very least.

I dug my crossbow and a spare gun out of the depths of a duffle in my closet and moved us from tai chi to grappling and judo, though I kept us at the yoga.

Sam got 'first' photos via text, like "Jack's first fish" (a soaking-wet Jack holding up a beautiful rainbow trout as long as his forearm) and "Jack's first bulls-eye" (Jack holding my gun in one hand, and a target with a hole right in the center in the other).

Sam and Jack texted each other regularly, I was relieved to discover. At first it was solely about Sam's research, but as Jack grew more comfortable with Sam, it was about philosophy and current events, as well. They were more similar to each other than either of them knew, and I tried not to think about how they both could blame me for that.

Jack got lessons on morality as well, disguised as casual chats while we tossed the football back and forth, though I was fairly certain that I wasn't fooling him. I posed questions about how a person should act in a certain situation and when Jack answered, I walked him back through his choices, making sure he could see the situation from all sides.

When we hit Veteran's Day, a week or so before our six-month anniversary, as it were, I looked over at him while we were holding tree poses in the early-morning-light of the front yard.

"What do you think about inviting Sam up here for a few days?"

I only saw people on my trips into town, and he'd literally never seen another living soul, so I didn't take it personally when his eyes lit up. Literally, lit up.

"I'll take that as a yes," I added, when he seemed unable to form a response. "I'll send him a text. If he's at a good stopping place in the research, he should be able to make it out here in a few days. It's a pretty long drive from Kansas."

Sam was delighted, of course.

"Do you think he'll bring Baby with him?" Jack asked, fidgeting in excitement as the hour of Sam's arrival drew nearer.

"Let's think about this for a second, kid. Sam's been on his own for six months. The question is not, will he drive Baby up here? The question is, what color Prius will he show up in?"

Jack's sense of humor was hit or miss, but this got a full-on snicker attack out of him, so I called it a win, even though I was actually dead serious.

Sam pulled up the long gravel drive from the distant road as the golden light of late afternoon in mid-November poured over the landscape.

The Prius was dark green.

"Hey, Sammy," I called from the porch, grinning as he unfolded himself from the driver's seat.

My giant little brother made a groaning noise as he pushed his hands into the small of his back and bent himself backwards. I took a minute to admire him objectively; he'd been making the most of his down-time, just like I had, and it showed.

I glanced sideways at Jack, beaming at my elbow, clearly eager to launch himself at my brother as soon as he straightened up, and I contrasted the tanned, toned, healthy young man with the burning-eyed gaunt apparition I'd met on the kitchen floor six months ago, and I felt a burst of pride.

Sam eased himself back upright and turned toward us. "Hi! H-oof!"

Jack's countdown had reached zero, and he shot towards my brother like a cannonball, his long arms meeting around Sam's middle and squeezing. Laughing, Sam squeezed back, and then I think they had an impromptu strength contest, where they each tried to lift each other, and almost succeeded in knocking themselves to the ground.

When Jack stepped away, still grinning, I took my turn, wrapping my arms around my brother's broad shoulders and pounding him on the back a few times. Sam and I hadn't spent this long away from each other voluntarily (which counted out our many and varied deaths, Hell stays, periods of soullessness, and when we were so pissed off at the lies we told each other constantly that we were taking breaks) since he'd stormed off to Stanford, and damn it was good to see him.

"You need a haircut," I told him, laughing.

"When's the last time you shaved?" he responded, shoving me a little, face splitting with a smile.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Anyway," Jack interrupted, before either of us could burst into tears or something even more unmanly, "come on in! Tell us what's new, and what your drive was like, and what you want to do with the next few days."

Sam gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, apparently taking a minute to admire his progress, just as I had. "I definitely have some things to tell you guys," he said. "Let me grab my bags."

Jack stayed inside the circle that we had decided was the limit of the wards, whether because he remembered where we'd determined that to be, or if he could just sort of feel them, and held out his hands to offer assistance.

We got Sam inside. "Couch okay?" I asked him.

He pulled his eyebrows together. "Doesn't this place have three bedrooms?" he asked. Are you guys still using one of them to keep the bodies, in a weird, Bates-Motel-y kind of way? went unsaid.

I exchanged glances with Jack. "Go ahead, it's your party trick," I told him, and he latched onto a wide-eyed Sam's arm and practically dragged him upstairs. I straightened the haphazard pile we'd dropped on the floor, lining things up against the wall, and strained to catch any sounds that drifted back down to me.

There was a sharp exclamation of surprise from Sam, and then the dull murmur of Jack explaining, then Jack's voice going up sharply, probably when Sam had tried to do what I'd done. Cas hadn't patched Sam up quite the way he'd done for me, down in the Pit, but he'd definitely glued him back together, body to soul, and healed us both so many times that it was a wonder we didn't feel his grace in our bones like an ache when it rained.

Heavy footsteps tromped back down the stairs. I'd been working with Jack on not sounding like a small elephant everywhere he went, but his bones were a little denser than a human's, so there wasn't much he could do to help it. My brother's six-foot-five frame was not exactly light as a feather, either.

The pitter-patter of little feet, I thought, snorting a laugh to myself.

"Did you catch dinner on the road, or did you want to eat with us?" I asked him, when the two of them reappeared in the room, Sam's face still and thoughtful.

"I caught breakfast at my motel, but I haven't stopped since." My car has excellent gas mileage, he didn't say, but I heard his smugness anyway.

I sighed. "Mind if I take a look at your car while you're here? Mechanic skills are the only thing I can fall back on if we never go back to hunting, and hybrid cars are the wave of the future. Can't make a livin' on gas-guzzling museum pieces alone."

Sam's mouth dropped open, and his eyes just about fell out of his face.

"This is really good, you guys," Sam said, sounding so shocked it bordered on insulting.

In reality, we'd made one of our fallbacks, since we hadn't known what time to expect him, exactly, so we hadn't wanted to prepare anything elaborate – not that we were up to elaborate yet, anyway. A few pieces of marinated chicken on the grill for a few minutes, then chopped up, mixed in with whole-wheat pasta, some veggies, and a jar of pasta sauce.

Since it was a special occasion, we'd done up a homemade garlic bread as well. It felt like a cheat day, and it tasted like parmesan-and-butter-covered, carb-loaded heaven.

Sam had wandered the kitchen while we worked, opening cabinets, generally checking up on me. When he got to the fridge, and saw that the only beverages were bottles of water and Gatorade, milk, and juice, he'd come to a full stop and stared at me.

I'd just shrugged at him. Nightmares, I could deal with. I'd been living behind my own private haze for long enough, I'd decided, and I wanted to be present for Jack. The thought of missing something he did, the way Dad had missed so many of Sam's and my achievements, made me feel physically nauseous.

So we let the clinking of forks on plates take over for conversation for a bit, and we all took in some silent companionship. I thought of Sam, rattling around in the bunker all alone, while I got to hang out with this amazing kid here on the edge of a beautiful lake, and I felt all sorts of guilty.

Not that it took much to make me feel guilty; it was one of the emotions I was best at, after all.

"So, what news from the stacks?" I asked, settling back at the table after I'd loaded the dishwasher and pushed the on button. The sound of gushing and rattling followed me out of the kitchen. It wasn't a new place, this cabin that Cas has somehow purchased.

Sam had checked into that as well – turned out, this place had been for sale, and Cas had bought it on the spot, despite being a little short on actual physical resources. I suspected angelic fudging of the rules of morality, but he'd fallen to the Dark Side – because of me – so long ago, it felt kind of rude to question it.

"I … um. I think I have a lead on where angels go when they die."

The raspberry I'd selected from our dessert fruit plate froze on its way to my mouth. My whole body went hot, then cold, all over. The void inside cocked up a twitching ear. It had become an old friend in the past months, no longer a thing to be feared or fought because it marked that I had once had something worth losing, so I gave it a mental scratch under the chin and told it to go back to sleep. The raspberry continued its terminal journey, and when it was souring on my tongue, I managed an interested-sounding, "Oh?"

I hadn't fooled either of them, but Sam pressed on anyway. "We know they don't go to Christian Heaven with the rest of the human souls, but I was thinking, what if they went to one of the other ones? The religions without angels? I narrowed it down a bit, checking into religions that seem to persist even though their main population of believers should have died out long ago, and we're probably looking at either one of the Greek ones, or Valhalla."

"Not Sto-vo-kor?" I asked glibly. Hey, it could happen. All religion was based on reality at some point, if the various gods we'd met in our time were to be believed, and what was Star Trek but another religion?

Sam raised an eyebrow at me, then seemed to change his mind about serving up a sarcastic response. "I'll add it to the list," he said, a light of interest kindling behind his eyes.

"Do we have any way to get to any of these places? And any guarantee we can get back out?"

Jack waved the apple slice he happened to be holding. "I've already said I'd help with any dimensional portals you guys might need. It's the one thing I'm absolutely sure that I can do with my powers, after all, since I've done it before, and I wasn't even born then."

Sam looked at him, then at me. "Jack…"

"Nope," Jack interrupted. "You can't tell me not to come with you. You guys elected yourselves the world's guardians, but who guards you? You need me to watch your back, at least until you get Castiel back."

"You're not a replacement for him," I told Jack, suddenly very serious, despite the fact that I was now pointing at him with a strawberry. "And he won't be a replacement for you, when we get him back. We're family, all of us."

"Um, as long as we're going in to pull someone out, do you think we should look for Gabriel as well?" Sam asked. "He was a member of Team Free Will before we even knew that was what we were. He rebelled against Heaven without falling, just through sheer pigheadedness, and he's an archangel. He'd be a huge help when we go up against Lucifer again."

I thought of the Trickster, of how he'd made Sam watch while I died over and over, how he'd trapped us inside TV shows, how he'd – I grinned – how he'd put Sam in a commercial for genital herpes treatment. Yeah, that dude was one of us, for sure. He'd died for us, too, at that summit of the pagan gods. We should probably at least try.

I gave Sam a nod. "Why do you look so relieved?"

"I bet Sam's been perusing the fanfiction sites again," Jack sniped wickedly. "Ever hear of Sabriel? And I don't mean the young adult novel by Garth Nix."

Sam sputtered, choked on his own raspberry. "I'm not… It's not like that! At all!"

Understanding flooded through me, and I busted up laughing until I couldn't breathe. Oh, man, this was even better than the commercial!

When Jack and I got ourselves under control, panting a little, I apologized to my red-faced brother. "No worries, man. I know we barely got to know the guy. We'll stop by his prison cell when we stroll into the Underworld to pick up Cas, and say hi. If he's feelin' friendly, he's welcome to join us. Whatever you guys decide to do after that is none of my business."

Sam cleared his throat and tried to pick up his thread again, ignoring the way Jack and I kept breaking into giggles. "So, I'm going to do a bit more research on the alternate afterlives, and if I can't narrow it down any further, we'll just have to visit them all."

"I like this plan," I said. "Always wanted to see Valhalla, personally. Hey, Jack, what's the plan for tomorrow, anyway?"

Jack looked startled to be addressed, and then confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Sam's here, and it's sort of a holiday, what do you want to do?"

Jack's frustrated face, which had been growing more familiar of late, the more he saw of the outside world on Netflix, made an appearance again now. "I don't know, swim? Toss the football? Watch TV?"

Sam was stifling a grin. He'd hit a breakthrough with his research about a week ago, and I'd told him about my surprise plan, the fruits of which were sitting in a small box in my pocket, retrieved from the jeweler in town that morning when I'd picked up the supplies for Sam's visit.

"I was thinking we'd go to town, maybe hit the library or bookstore, the mall for new clothes and shoes, and maybe catch the new Avengers movie in theaters and get some actual hot pizza for dinner."

Jack's face had gone blank, and I felt a little cruel.

"That sounds great. Let me know how it was when you get back." He started to stand up but I waved my hands at him.

"Wait, wait, I have something for you."

I dug the box out of my pocket and handed it across the table to him.

He looked down at it, and at Sam and me, the both of us no longer bothering to hide our grins. A grin of his own started to form on his face, before he even knew what he was holding, and he tore the lid off.

Three identical silver amulets nestled inside, each a knotted, intricate rune. "What…?"

"They're masking runes," said Sam. "Just keep one in contact with your skin. They don't cancel your power or anything, just keep you from being detected when you leave the house. You're not trying to hide from the average man on the street, so you don't need anything too elaborate. Just a little something to keep anyone with any extra senses from noticing you."

Jack cradled the small box like it contained live kittens. Then, "Will it hurt?" he asked, suddenly unsure. I was proud of how well he'd learned the lessons I'd tried to teach: no power without price.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. "From what I've read, it shouldn't be any worse than wearing a shirt that's a little too small. Want to give it a go?"

Jack's excitement, temporarily doused by caution, flared back up, and Sam got to see him glow. My brother's eyes went wide, then squinted against the brightness Jack was throwing off as he stared down into the box in his hands.

Jack held up one hand, like a surgeon who'd scrubbed up, then carefully picked up the amulet on top of the pile.

His light immediately went out, the kitchen lights suddenly seeming inadequate to cover for what he had been supplying. His eyes were just plain brown, though warm and kind. He looked like a normal kid with too-long hair, albeit one that was extremely happy about something.

"How do you feel?" I asked him. "Can you still sense us? What works and what doesn't work?"

He looked at both of us for a minute. "I don't think I've lost too much. I can still sort of feel both of you, but I don't know if that's just because I know you. I have to focus harder than usual to get any sort of details, though. Mostly I just sense that you're here, in the room with me."

"Any constriction?" Sam asked.

Jack made a shrugging motion with his shoulders, exactly like someone easing a too-tight shirt. I don't think he was aware that he'd done it. "I feel what you were describing. It's like I'm wearing a full-body wetsuit. There's room for me inside it, but nothing me-like is going to get out."

I beamed. "So? How do you feel about going to town? Meeting some real-live people who aren't on a screen?"

Jack looked somewhere between excited and terrified.

"Big day tomorrow, so brush your teeth and get to bed."

"Aw, do I have to?"

I blinked at him. This was a bit we'd come up with, an inside joke, but if he wanted to show off for Sam, I sure as hell wasn't going to discourage him.

"Well, Jack, technically, I guess we really just don't know, but it can't hurt, can it?"

I woke up at sunrise. We had promised Jack we'd drive over first thing in the morning and hit up the diner in town for breakfast, but the actual physical light of sunrise came late up in the mountains, so it was still kind of dark.

There was already an air of anticipation creeping through the house in the dimness. I was excited for him, as well as for myself. Mmmm, diner pancakes and pizzeria pizza. Short of being outed as hunters and their otherworldy charge, there wasn't much that could keep this day from being totally awesome.

I dragged myself into the kitchen and startled a bit to see Jack standing there in the dark, eating a granola bar in front of the coffee machine, which he'd already turned on. "Have you been up long?" I asked him, low, so as not to wake Sam out in the living room.

"Couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about today. I'm going to leave the house."

"You sure are, kid. In a big way. Think of this as a test run. If this works out, there's nowhere you can't go."

"Maybe I'll get that houseboat after all," he replied, grinning. It was something we'd discussed at length, where he wanted to plant himself when he could leave the cabin. He hadn't declared outright that he wanted to be a hunter, but his mother's expectations weighed on him, and I knew I couldn't keep him here forever when half of his soul demanded that he be out there saving people, making the world (or a world, anyway) a better place.

"We'll go see Disneyland, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, first, before you sail off into the sunset."

"I'd like to see you at Disneyland," commented Sam, leaning on the doorjamb.

We both spun to look at him. I recovered first, shrugging. "Happiest place on Earth, they say. Jack's got to have something to go on."

Sam grinned, striding over to the pantry and pulling out a granola bar for himself. "Send me a picture of you wearing a pair of Mickey ears," he said.

"Like hell-lelujah we'd go without you. And Cas, and Mom. And we're all wearin' the ears, so you can shut up about that right now."

He nodded, swallowing the bar in one bite, then gestured at his feet, which were laced into his running shoes. "I was planning on getting some jogging in before we hit the road, do we have time? Things in town won't be open for another few hours."

I shared a glance with Jack. "Race?" I asked him.

When he nodded, I turned back to Sam. "Once around the lake, you running and us swimming, last place takes last shower with the least hot water."

For the second time in this house, I found myself standing in an empty kitchen, with poofs of dust where there used to be people.

"Oi!" I shouted after them, kicking off the slippers I'd put on and pulling off my sweatpants-cum-pajamas as I hopped toward the still-swinging back door. "Cheaters!"

Jack got back first, and though he swore up and down that he hadn't used any supernatural powers, I had my suspicions. Jack hated cold showers.

I got back second, though, to be fair, the lake circuit was a little smaller than the jogging path around it, so it wasn't really a fair race.

Sam begrudgingly accepted third shower. Fortunately for him, Jack and I weren't complete assholes, so we saved as much hot water for him as we could. His hair-care regimen was a mystery to me, but that didn't mean I wanted to ruin it for him.

For all I knew, based on the evidence I'd gathered over the years, he kept his hair shiny and healthy with cheap shampoo and the blackest of magic. I'd shared hotel rooms with the guy for a decade, and as far as I knew, we made due with the same toiletries. It boggled the mind.

We reconvened in the living room, clean and slightly damp and smelling nice. Sam and I had put on our best casual clothes: jeans without holes in them, t-shirts under flannel, jackets on top, boots. Jack had imitated us, either on purpose or unconsciously, but he was wearing his tennis shoes, and his t-shirt had Led Zeppelin on it.

Sam took one look at it, then just turned to me and said, "Dean," in the flattest, most 'I'm not surprised but I'm still disappointed' way possible.

"Hey, whoa, he requested it. We picked it out on Amazon and got it delivered to a PO box in town." I waved my hands at my brother in self-defense.

Sam stifled a cough that sounded suspiciously like Stockholm syndrome before shrugging. "Sure, man, whatever."

Jack smiled, not trying to assist me in any way, the stinker. "So, can we go now, or what?"

"Got your amulet?" I asked him.

He patted his chest. "Right here." We'd threaded one of the medallions onto a leather thong, and he'd slung it around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.

"I've got the spares with me, in case you melt that one. Wait, we didn't mention the melting?"

Jack's sudden look of horror told me that no, we hadn't.

"The amulet is for masking your normal power levels only," said Sam. "If you try to ramp up your powers, to use them or just because you're caught unawares emotionally, the amulet could overload and melt. If you feel that happening, either get control super-quick, or get it away from your skin, because it will literally melt, and it is made of metal."

"I was wondering why you'd gotten me three of them," Jack said, a little faintly. "I was hoping it wasn't because you thought I would lose them, or something like that."

"Nope, catastrophic failure prep only. I have total faith in your ability to keep track of your things. Everyone got everything?"

I reached my left hand into my pocket and slipped on the ring I'd stashed there after I'd dressed. It was a heavy, twisting silver band, patterned very faintly with the merest abstract thought of feathers, with a single large sapphire set in it. I'd spent more time than I'll ever admit at the jewelry store in town one day while Jack was catching up on Star Trek, picking out a stone in exactly the right shade of blue. This would be my first time actually wearing it; I'd picked it up when I'd picked up Jack's amulets. It embraced my middle finger like a lover, and it felt right.

We filed out of the house and down the dark driveway to Sam's car.

His soul-less, noiseless, oh-so-environmentally-friendly car.

Jack crossed the invisible line of the wards with one hand pressed to his chest, compulsively keeping the amulet in contact with his skin, and stepped up to the passenger side of the Prius.

The word "shotgun" was on my lips, ready to fall out, when it hit me: this was going to be his first-ever car ride. His first chance to move through the world at a pace faster than he could achieve on his own.

So I did the right thing and folded myself into the back seat. Jack got in in front of me, but Sam just stood there, staring at us through the window as if the world was ending. Again. Honestly, it lost a little in effect, because the world did tend to end so very often around us.

"What?" I asked, faking belligerence. "If you think I'm gonna ride around in the passenger seat of this fuel-efficient plastic hipster nightmare, where people might recognize me, you're double-deep-dish wrong. Get in the car, I want waffles."

The sky above the mountains was pinkening as we wound our way towards the town, but it was still shadowy on the road. When the trees cleared and we were suddenly among actual buildings after twenty minutes of close forest, we were all a little surprised.

We gave Jack's amulet a real trial run, stopping at the local park and strolling laps around it for a bit, nodding good morning to all the dog-walkers. When he'd grown accustomed to the feeling of people who weren't Sam or myself, and he hadn't blown up or melted anything, we moved on.

The diner catered to an early crowd, so I directed Sam to it between sips from the travel mug of coffee that I'd poured for myself before we'd left the cabin.

We pulled in about the time that people were trying to wake up for their shifts at work. I'm not ashamed to admit, I'd lost track of the days of the week, what with the whole 'not having a 9 to 5 job ever in life' thing I had going, so it was jarring to learn that it was actually a Thursday.

We piled out of the car ("Dean, can I get this pierced into my ear" from Jack, as he clutched the amulet to his chest while climbing out) and made our way into the diner. A perky middle-aged waitress pointed us to a table by the big plate-glass window, finished pouring coffee for the working stiffs lined up at the counter, and made her way over to us, menus in one hand and the steaming pot in the other.

"Hi, guys, welcome," she said with a smile. "I'm Irene, what can I get you today? Start you off with some coffee?"

"Water and an orange juice, please," Sam answered.

"Coffee and water for me," I said, holding out the sturdy mug that was part of the place setting.

She filled it with coffee for me, and then her eyes fell on Jack, who was staring at her, and starting to look a bit panicked.

This was going to be the first mundane human he'd actually spoken to, and he was choking.

I reached across him for the coffee adders lined up on his edge of the table, glad I'd taken my jacket off. When my skin pressed against his arm, I thought, very loudly and very clearly, just water for me, thanks, and then withdrew with a packet of sugar and a tiny plastic container of creamer.

Jack cleared his throat. "Ahem. Sorry. Just water for me, thanks."

Irene nodded. "I'll let you all get acquainted with the menus, and I'll be right back with your drinks."

She turned away. When she'd wandered out of earshot, I put my hand back on Jack's arm. "You okay, kid?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I got nervous. I'll do better when she comes back."

Sam, across the table, was looking back and forth between us. "What just happened? Did he just read your mind?"

"Just a little parlor trick we've been workin' on," I assured him, sending a wink at Jack and stirring the creamer into my coffee with my spoon. Jack slipped the sugar packet back into the plastic holder. I didn't take sugar in my coffee, which is probably what tipped Sam off.

Sam eyed us both suspiciously, then shrugged and picked up his menu, so Jack and I did the same.

Irene came back a few minutes later, bearing a tray with our waters and Sam's juice. "Are y'all ready to order?"

Jack folded his menu and put it down, giving her his best smile. "What do you recommend?" he asked smoothly, as if he'd been chatting up waitresses his entire life.

Irene patted at her hair, seemingly unconscious of the action. "Well. I do like the mashed potato omelet, it's a local favorite."

"Then I'll have that, please. With a side of fruit."

She stared at him a beat longer, then blinked and wrote his order on her pad. "And you all?"

She got more and more flustered as Sam ordered an egg white and spinach omelet with sun-dried tomatoes, and I got blueberry waffles, as she made eye contact with each of us. Finally, she assured us that our meals would be right out, and practically fled.

Jack stared after her, a bit concerned. "Is she alright?"

I caught Sam's eyes, but he shrugged. You're raising this child, he seemed to say, so it was up to me to explain how the world worked.

"She's fine, she's just a little overwhelmed." I held up a hand to forestall the why? I could see forming on Jack's lips. "You know how people on TV are super-pretty? Like, the Avengers, and some of the shows you watch on Netflix, the actors in them are far more attractive than your everyday Joe Schmoe?"

Jack looked blank, and I remembered that the only people he'd ever seen before that weren't part of someone else's memories had been exclusively from those mediums.

I tried again. "Like, look around here. These people, they're not ugly, but no one would cast them in a hospital drama."

A glance around, then some more blankness from my ward. Ah, crap. Angelic asexuality. That complicated things a bit. Sam was snorting with suppressed laughter, but I'd started down this road, and I'd be damned if I didn't try at least a little bit harder.

"Isn't there anyone in here that you find more attractive, objectively, than anyone else?"

Another glance around, a bit of considering. "Dean, everyone here is beautiful."

I threw up my hands, and Sam about died laughing.

"Well, I don't know if you've ever really looked at yourself in a mirror, but you are an attractive human, as humans scale these things, and so am I, and so is Sam. We just kind of swept her off her feet a bit, all being here at once and focusing on her."

Jack nodded, taking in this information. "And humans don't expect attractive people to be nice to them?"

"Sad but true, kid. There are exceptions, of course, but attractive people tend to be more self-involved, less caring about anything besides themselves. It's called narcissism, and there's a reason it's named after a demi-god."

I spent a few more fruitless minutes trying to explain how we'd affected poor Irene to Jack, but gave it up when I saw our food coming.

"Irene, this looks amazing," I told her, watching steam curl enticingly off the golden spongy stack she'd placed in front of me and then looking up to meet her eyes. They were brown, and warm, and probably a bit wider than they would have been if the three of us hadn't waltzed into her diner this morning.

"Um. Ah. I mean, let me get y'all the syrup, be right back."

"Dean," Jack said, in a reprimanding tone, and I shrugged. I'd been stuck in the cabin with him just as long as he'd been stuck with me. It had been a long time since someone had treated me like a piece of meat, and I was enjoying it. I also shrugged off the sound of my name in that tone of voice – we'd have him back soon enough, and then it wouldn't hurt so much to hear other people say things the way he'd said them.

She slid me a carafe of maple and one of some sort of berry syrup, then backed away with a declaration of "Give me a holler if y'all need anything, ok?"

"Was she Southern when we came in? Or has she gotten more so since she started talking to us?" Sam asked, hovering a fork over his healthy breakfast.

I nodded, mouth full of syrup and waffle. "More so," I managed, swallowing.

We were silent a while, attacking our meals. Jack looked like Heaven was melting on tongue, so the omelet must have been a good choice as well. I know my waffles were amazing. Sam's breakfast had spinach in it, so I didn't bother asking him how it was.

Spinach. For breakfast. On vacation. Honestly.

We were about halfway through our meals when Jack started the conversation back up. "So. Since I can probably open portals to whichever dimension we want, you guys need to make the decision: would you rather have Castiel and Gabriel with you when you face Lucifer and rescue Mary, or have Mary with you when you face down whatever is holding Castiel and Gabriel captive in their own private Underworld?"

There was a huh? sort of noise, and we looked up to see Irene at the tableside, probably there to ask us how our breakfast was tasting, now looking tense and vaguely frightened.

"Writing a novel," I hastened to assure her. "Hit a tough spot, thought a change of scenery and a day off might help us get unstuck."

Irene relaxed. "Oh, that novelist from out by the lake? Don't let me bother you, then. Everything going alright here?"

We all agreed that everything was fabulous, and she walked off again, no doubt to text everyone she knew about the three weirdos in her diner.

"Nice cover story," Sam said approvingly. "Been hanging onto it for long?"

"Basically the whole time. I spilled it to the Target cashier when she started wondering why I was furnishing an entire household from scratch."

"It's perfect! Covers every bit of weird crap we could possibly talk about."

We finished up, paid in cash, and left her a nice tip. The sun was barely up, but we were awake, full of food, and ready to get on with our day.

"Bookstore?" Sam suggested, and Jack lit up. Literally, for a brief moment, then he got it under control and merely grinned. "So that's a yes, then."

I rolled my eyes at them. Nerds.

The bookstore had just opened for the day, so it still only contained the last of the night employees who shelved new stock, and a few yawning cashiers. Jack walked in like it was the Holy Land.

He and Sam immediately made a beeline for the science fiction section, grabbing up a handbasket on the way. I let them go, not expecting to see them again for an hour at least, maybe two.

Resigned to catching up with them later, I detoured through a few other sections and made my own way to the manga section. I picked up the volume of Full Metal Alchemist that I'd left off on last time Sam had abandoned me in a book store (text-xiled, I called it), and plopped myself down beside the shelves to see what trouble the Elric brothers would get into today.

Some time went by, measured by the flip of pages and the exchanging of volumes for the next one down the line. I glanced up when people passed the mouth of the aisle, and caught sight of Sam and Jack, who had filled up the entire handbasket, on their way to the teen fiction section.

I stood up, stretched a bit to loosen up after so long in one attitude on the floor, grabbed the volume that came after the one in my hand, and started to walk after them. Then, realizing that there was clothes shopping still to do today, I turned back and grabbed the next one as well for good measure.

I caught up to them while they were discussing John Green and slipped my choices for Jack onto their heaping pile.

Sam, of course, caught me, and slid my FMAs aside. "Cat's Cradle? Storm Front by Jim Butcher?"

"Well, I'm assumin' you already got him all of Harry Potter, and Good Omens and American Gods, yeah?"

Sam nodded, shrugging a bit, as if to say, of course I did.

I saw a paperback copy of Eragon in the pile as well but didn't mention it.

When we'd finally extracted ourselves from the bookstore, we made our way to the mall at the head of the main street. Jack was excited, and I was vaguely nauseous. Malls made me feel ill, full as they were with people who lived by an entirely different set of values than I did. Who cared what other people thought of you, right?

We started at one of the anchor stores, Sam passing Jack things to try on over the dressing room door and me sinking back into Edward and Alphonse until Sam threw something made of cloth at my head as well.

"Dude, come on. Just try it on, okay?"

I gave in with bad grace, but when I had the shirt on and was looking at myself in the mirror, I had to admit that my brother had picked out something that not only fit well, but also did that thing that I'd only heard of before – it brought out the color of my eyes. I wanted to punch him just for making me even think those words in that order, but it was true.

Now that I knew there was stuff here worth paying attention to, I tucked the Elric brothers back into a pocket, and started sorting through the racks, ending up with several other shirts, and a few pairs of non-denim pants as well. Sam beamed like a proud parent.

We finished up, and toted our bags through the rest of the mall for a few more hours, weaving in and out of shops as Jack noticed something on display in a window, or just wanted to go look, like when the thumping music of Hot Topic drew us in. We all ended up with something from there, especially after we'd noticed the POP bobble-head toys for the Supernatural book series – 'now a graphic novel!'.

I'd promised Jack lunch at the food court, which he was anticipating with the gusto of an epicure dining at a five-star restaurant. "Stop romanticizing it," I told him, but he didn't.

"Ooooh, there's a Panda Express," he cooed instead. Sam just laughed at us.

After lunch, we went back out to the park. I'd brought the football, and I wanted to show Sam how non-dysfunctional we were.

After Sam's fourth time fumbling a catch, he told us to hang on a minute, went back to the car, and returned with a neon-green hard plastic Frisbee.

"I'm much better at this, I swear," he said. "I didn't just learn about law in college."

"Nerd," I said, smiling. He was better at Frisbee than he was at football, and though Jack and I were both terrible to start, we got the hang of it pretty quickly.

The park was beginning to fill up again, with more dog-walkers, and kids getting out of school, even a few real-live joggers. Hopefully Irene had spread our story around town, or we'd look pretty sketchy.

I had a thought. When our vigorous and not terribly well aimed throws brought me and Jack into speaking distance, I said, "Hey, can you tell if anyone is eying us with malicious intent?"

The game carried us away from each other again, but he focused for a minute, then shook his head at me from the other side of the wide, shifting circle we'd adopted.

"Plenty are interested, though," he added, when we'd taken a break to guzzle some water from a jug Sam had brought out of his car. "I can't feel that anyone means us any harm, but I would venture a guess that a majority of these people are more into watching us than watching their own children."

Sam shrugged it off. "That's the attractiveness thing again. In all of our travels today, no one stuck out to you as being more attractive than anyone else?"

"I did like the waitress this morning, she had a nice soul, I could tell."

"Works for me," I said. "I don't have to give him the talk about not getting his heart broken by some terrible person if he's not going to give them the time of day in the first place."

Sam corked the jug and waggled the Frisbee, so we jogged back out and kept going a bit longer, ignoring the ogling of the soccer moms and a few soccer dads until our shadows stretched like giants on the grass as the sun sank low.

"Yelp says this place has the best pizza in town," Sam said, pulling in to the parking lot of a mom-and-pop joint. The lot was almost full, so the status seemed honest, at least from the outside.

We crammed ourselves into the crowded entry, put our names in, and were told the wait would be about twenty minutes, and that if we'd like to wait in the bar area, they'd be sure to call for us in there.

I told the hostess that we were fine hanging out where we were. She nodded, moving on to the family who'd come in behind us while we edged off to the side and held up an empty piece of wall.

"Maybe we could go to a bar later," Jack suggested.

Sam and I looked at him, puzzled. "Do you want to go to a bar?" I asked him. "You don't even drink coffee at home, where you control all the variables, and now you want to attempt intoxication in public?"

Jack reddened a little and wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'd like to try alcohol some time, yeah, but definitely in a controlled area, in case something goes wrong. It's just…"

His brown eyes darted up to mine, then away again, and he started twisting the fabric of his t-shirt in one hand.

"It's just that I know what you gave up to take care of me, and I wanted you to get the opportunity to get out and meet someone, maybe get laid."

A ripple of silence spread away from us, followed by another ripple of awkwardly forced conversation, as everyone in the entryway tried to pretend they hadn't been eavesdropping their sorry asses off.

I laughed it off, waving a careless hand at everyone. "I haven't given anything up, Jack," I told him, choosing my words carefully. "You coming to stay was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Besides, I bet Sam here is just as deprived as I am."

I elbowed my brother as everyone around us leaned in a little, trying to catch the next bit. Luckily, the hostess called our name just then. I got the feeling she'd jumped us up the line a bit to save us from the situation, and I was profoundly grateful.

She led us through the restaurant, dodging around small tables where amazing smells were wafting from the most beautiful pizzas I'd ever seen.

"You can feel free to tell me it's none of my business, especially after what just happened out front, but can I ask what your situation actually is?" she asked, directing us into a corner table and placing menus in front of us.

"No problem at all," I said, giving her my most charming smile. She deserved a reward. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam. Jack here," I clapped him on the shoulder as he was taking the seat with its back to the room, "is our nephew. We look out for him, since we lost our other brother a while back. He'll always be a baby to us, you know?"

The hostess – her nametag said "Lori," with a smiley face after it – smiled. "That's lovely, thank you for sharing. Can I get you all something to drink?" Her accent slipped the tiniest bit on luhv-ley, betraying a hint of England's stony shores, and Sam's shoulders tensed up the slightest bit as we took our own seats.

"A Coke, if you have it, please," I told her, shooting him a dude, chill look. She nodded. Jack asked for a Coke of his own, successfully this time, and Sam asked for water.

"I'll be back in a bit to take your orders," she said, then moved away. Sam watched her go, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Jack was looking between us, at a loss.

"Sammy-"

"No. Dammit, Dean, when has anyone with a British accent ever not stabbed us in the back?"

He gave me a minute think about it. I couldn't come up with anyone off the top of my head.

"What, you expected the British Men of Letters to just give up after all the time and money they invested in their invasion here? We should have known they'd be back for us."

"Sammy…No, listen. Sam. Why would they stick someone here, in the middle of nowhere, and just hope that one day we'd breeze in and order pizza? She's prob'ly just a geek who watched one too many episodes of Doctor Who and got stuck with the accent when she uses the vocab."

Sam looked at Jack, who nodded in confirmation. No ill intent, which didn't necessarily mean she was clean, but at least she was safe. For now. If she was an agent, her orders could change at any time.

Sam relaxed a little, though the skin was still tight around his eyes. We decided that for Jack's first real pizza, of course he had to have pepperoni and cheese, though we conceded that Sam could get green peppers and mushrooms on half, so he didn't feel like the meal was a total loss, nutrition-wise.

Lori, apparently working double as a waitress this evening, brought our drinks and took our order. Her eyes lingered on Sam as she made her way back to the window, in a way that told me that she'd heard what'd been said in the entryway and probably wouldn't mind being the one to break Sam's dry spell.

Jack observed it all, plainly curious. "Can you guys teach me how to talk to girls? In case I ever want to try it out? I saw you do it, in your memories, so many times, but I get the feeling there's more to it than just saying the words."

"Not with that attitude, we can't," I said.

He looked at me, brows drawn together.

"They're not an exotic species, they're just people," I explained. "You just have to find somethin' that they're interested in – and if you're lucky, you're interested in it as well – and then get them to talk about it. Easy as pie. Mmm, pie."

Sam picked up the thread when I drifted off, distracted. "It is something best employed in a bar, and Dean was a bit of an expert. He's better at the short-term, though, since his 'something they were both interested in' was usually one Dean Winchester."

Jack snorted a laugh.

I shrugged good-naturedly. "Works for me, but he's right, not really a good basis for long-term relationships. Except my longest one. Both Cas and I loved me very, very much." I thumbed my new ring in a circle around my finger and checked on the location of the waitress. "Better that than bonding over some nerdy show about a time-traveling alien who kidnaps people and shows them unimaginable horrors and makes them run a lot."

Sam's face was set to sympathy for the first part of my sentence, but as he caught up with the end of it, he puffed up into full-on lecture mode.

I interrupted him. It looked like our pizza was up, and I wanted to time this just right. "I don't want to argue about…," assuming the end of my sentence was going to be something derogatory about his precious show, he'd already begun his scoff-and-eye-roll, but I changed direction and finished with, "which doctor you think is better. I think Capaldi did a great job, but you're probably a Tennant fanboy. Ugh, figures."

Sam's mouth dropped open, utterly derailed. "You…what?"

"You guys watch Doctor Who?" Lori asked, landing a steaming pizza on the table between us, sounding thrilled.

"I'm not caught up," I said hurriedly, and nudged Jack's leg under the table with my foot.

"I haven't seen the last few seasons," he put in smoothly (and accurately – he'd only seen what Sam and I had seen up to the point where he'd watched our memories, he'd never actually seen them with his own eyes before), and we both very obviously turned to Sam.

My brother looked like he'd struck oil while digging a septic tank. "Yeah, big time. I'm really interested to see where Jodie Whittaker's going to take the role."

She practically sparkled back at him. "I have read so many fan theories in the forums online, but I think I've got it narrowed down to which ones are most plausible."

"I'm so far behind on the forums!" Sam said. "I know, it's terrible, the new season is starting up soon, and I'm going to be behind right from the start."

"I could, um, that is, if you wanted-"

She glanced around the table at the rest of us, suddenly unsure. "I don't want to take you away from your family-"

"Oh, please, take him!" I interjected. "He's only in town to visit for a few days, but he hasn't had anyone to talk to about this in months." A vision of a certain Queen of Moondoor danced through my mind, and I smiled. Charlie would definitely approve of using nerd stuff to get some.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "We don't mind, I swear."

Lori hesitated a second longer, then used her order-taking pen to scribble her number on a napkin. She dropped it on Sam's empty plate. "My shift is noon to 8PM for the next few days, though I have to stay late tonight, since one of our staff called in sick. Text me, we can get together tomorrow, before or after, I'm easy."

She blinked, flushed scarlet – which looked striking with her blond hair and fair skin – and said, "I didn't mean, I just, oh, never mind." She vanished from our tableside so quickly she might have teleported.

Sam picked up the napkin and smiled at it, looking a little bowled over by his good fortune.

"And that, my young apprentice, is how a person talks to girls."

Jack looked on the verge of bursting into applause.

Sam snapped out of his daze, recalling himself enough to squint at me suspiciously. "Did you-"

"Hey, look, pizza!" I interrupted, lifting a slice onto my plate, admiring the stretches of melted mozzarella it trailed like strings of saliva after a particularly passionate kiss.

Sam wisely let it go and pulled out his phone to put Lori's number into it, hopefully sending her a follow-up text. She'd be thrilled to hear from him; most likely she was in the back, beating herself up for blowing it just now. Unless she was a spy, in which case everything had all gone according to her plan. Whichever it was, my brother had pulled a number, and I had pizza, so this evening was going better than most, in my vast experience.

Speaking of … time to get better acquainted. I lifted my slice, closed my eyes, and took a moment to appreciate its bouquet, letting the herbs and spices tickle the membranes of my nose. Then I sank my teeth in, and all of life's hardships evaporated.

The cheese was just the right texture, not too thin but not rubbery, either. The pepperoni were perfectly spiced, enough to catch the attention but not overpowering. The sauce exploded onto my tongue, oregano and sage dancing together with the tomatoes in perfect harmony. The crust was the most ideal of deep-dish crusts, pillowy and soft on top – the better to tenderly cradle its wonderful cargo – crisp and ever-so-slightly greasy on the bottom, so that the whole miraculous shebang stayed stalwartly and valiantly unbending, with no chance of the extraordinary toppings being dumped into one's lap.

In all, it was the most perfect thing I had ever put in my mouth, and I had known some good food and some fine women in my time.

Through a lustful haze, I remembered that this was Jack's first pizza, and I didn't want to miss it, so I forced my eyes open just in time to see the space between the angel's arms on his Zep '77 shirt light up like a tiny sun, and to hear Sam say, "Jack," in a low, cautious voice.

Jack's amulet glowed for a second that lasted an hour, then he blinked open his eyes, pressed the hand that wasn't holding a slice of Heaven over his chest, and breathed deeply several times. Then he reached for his Coke – the angel's arms were empty again – and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry," he said, a little sheepishly. "I knew from both of your memories that pizza was good, but…Chuck Almighty, this is really good pizza."

My phone pinged in my pocket. I checked it quickly: a photo text from Sam – a picture of Jack biting into his slice, with the caption "Jack's first steps – down the road to heart disease." I sent him back a pizza emoticon and a smiley face and stuffed my phone back where it came from. Who had time for that when this amazing creation was hovering in front of my face?

"We're setting the bar pretty high," I warned him. "If Sam doesn't end up marrying Lori, any future pizzas will pale in comparison to this one."

"Dude, shut up," Sam said, flushing to rival the tomato sauce dripping onto Jack's plate.

"Just eat your pizza, you won't regret it," I told him, and shut my eyes so I could be alone with mine again.

The whole orchestra of flavors waltzed across my tongue once more, and I spared a thought to be annoyed at Sam for not telling me that alcohol abuse dulled the taste buds. If I'd known years ago just how good food could taste, I'd have … well, I'd have weighed 300 pounds by now, so I guess for the world's sake it was better this way, but it sure as hell explained a lot about how Dad had been able to forget about eating for days on end.

A sudden moan from across the table pulled me out of the dark tailspin of my thoughts, and I came back to the present as Sam pressed an embarrassed hand over his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just…it's just really good. I thought you guys were exaggerating."

By judicious application of the double-puppy-dog-eyes maneuver, and a mild to moderate application of 'it's my first time, I've never tasted ice cream with my own personal tongue' guilt from Jack, we were able to convince Sam that of course we needed to go get ice cream after dinner. He gave in with the understanding that we would be walking there from the pizza place, so we sauntered through the Pacific Northwest autumn evening, huddled in our hoodies against the slightly chill breeze.

The local ice cream shop had a line almost out the door, so we had to spend a good ten minutes sandwiched in between strangers, watching our words carefully, but Jack, the panderer, made sure to call us Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam as often as he felt could be gotten away with naturally, and the warm fuzzy feeling it gave me chased away any annoyance at his obvious brown-nosing.

As we shuffled closer to the front of the line, Jack became more concerned with sorting out what it was he wanted.

"What are you guys getting?" he asked, a little desperately, as another person paid their money and received their delicious frozen treat and the countdown ran a little closer to zero.

"Butter pecan," Sam said, with absolutely no hesitation.

I gave him an approving sideways glance, then told Jack about my strong preference for chocolate chip cookie dough.

"They all sound so good! I can't decide between the chocolate peanut butter and the strawberry."

"You know, you can get more than one scoop," I said, indicating the board behind the counter that listed the various ways they were willing to serve you up your diabetes booster shot.

Jack looked like I'd just given him the key to the city.

On the walk back to the car, tongues sliding around and around on cones to keep drips from hitting our fingers (well, Jack's and my tongues anyway – Sam had gotten his in a cup and was decorously ferrying it to his mouth with a tiny spoon), I brought up something that I wasn't sure would go over well.

"So, if you were serious about wanting to experiment with how alcohol affects you, I think this evening would be a good time to try it out."

They both turned identical concerned faces to me. Jeez, a guy abuses a substance for a decade, and then suggests they all do it for fun, and everyone acts like he's the bad guy.

"No, wait, hear me out. Jack, you don't know how it will affect you, so it makes sense that we have Sam here, as well as Cas's best wards to contain any … extra effects. We've all had a good solid dinner, and none of us are tired, so these are actually ideal conditions, and we should go over to the BevMo and pick up something to take home with us. For science. Tell me I'm wrong."

Sam's mouth did that thing it did when he knew I was right but he still wanted to argue with me. Sort of a twist, and a pucker. Jack looked interested, but still concerned.

"Look, guys, here's the thing. When Cas healed me that last time, when he was all juiced up on borrowed nephilim mojo, he fixed more than just my broken leg. I think he knew he had to make this one count."

My ring caught a passing streetlamp, glinting greenish in the yellow light it threw. "I can't really explain it, but when I stop to think about how easy it was for me to just walk away from the booze, it feels like he sort of … unhooked me from my baggage. I don't crave it, I don't fear it, it just sort of feels like a thing I could do every so often, and it would be okay. Does that make sense?"

Jack, bless his heart, looked convinced, and went back to happily licking his cold confection. Sam held my gaze a while longer, so I tried a little harder to explain, even though it went against every habit we'd ever developed between us to actual talk about something.

"I don't feel like I need it any more. I can remember feeling that way, the burn that built up when I didn't have it, but that's gone now. He wiped my slate clean. Probably reset me to lightweight level while he was at it."

Jack cut his eyes at me, probably about my 'not needing it any more' comment. I'd woken us both with a particularly heinous nightmare less than a week ago, and he'd brought me down to the kitchen and made me hot chocolate, and we'd sat there together until the sun came up and we went on with our day.

I know I woke him more often than that – Alistair visited me in my sleep several times a week, along with Lucifer wearing a Sam or Cas suit, Cas being stabbed through the chest or dissolving into ink in a reservoir, and many, many other horrific ends for Sam or Cas or Jack himself – but my current situation was full of more hope and security than I'd ever had, so mostly when I woke up with a scream on the tip of my tongue, the feeling of my skin being clawed open or the feeling of clawing open someone else's skin lingering, I was able to tell myself: you're safe, you're a good person, Jack needs you, go back to sleep, and I did.

Alcohol had dulled all that for me, to be sure, but it had dulled so much more. It no longer seemed like a worthwhile tradeoff.

But to do it for fun, with people I loved, in a safe space where they could make sure I didn't do anything stupid? I couldn't find anything wrong with that plan.

"I'll be careful," I promised him. After one more long, considering look, he gave a single nod, then scooped more ice cream into his mouth.

I breathed a sigh of relief. That could have gone better, but it also definitely could have gone worse.

Sam made sure we finished our ice cream and utilized the wipes he pulled from his glove compartment before he would let us into his car. I didn't take offense. We ate in Baby all the time, but ice cream seemed like asking for disaster.

We rolled up the main street on silent electric wheels, then took a right turn before we hit the mall. The BevMo was set a bit away up a side street, as if the townsfolk hadn't wanted it sullying their image with the tourists but hadn't wanted it too far away, either.

"There are so many kinds of wine and beer, and those are all readily available at restaurants if you want to just have them casually," Sam said. "We're after the effects of intoxication on a nephilim. I'm thinking we have to go for the harder stuff."

"Maybe the tiny room-service bottles?" I suggested. "That way, we can get Jack a variety of things to try out, and won't have to deal with whatever's left over in the morning?"

The Pruis slid smoothly into a spot facing the brightly lit storefront. The two people in the front seats didn't move, and I didn't want to rush them, because then they'd think I was too eager, and they'd scrap the whole plan.

I wanted to be annoyed at them, but the fact was, if Cas hadn't fixed me, they would be absolutely right to be as concerned as they were. Though I had been functional, that hadn't changed the fact that I had abused it so that I could avoid reality.

They were worried about me because they loved me, and I owed it to them, and to myself, to make absolutely sure that this wasn't, deep down, a completely horrible idea.

So I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and clenched my left hand, feeling the band of my new ring bite into my fingers. I let the feeling of pain drag me down inside, delving deep into the shattered-and-rebuilt lean-to that housed my soul, and I forced myself to pull some memories from it.

I remembered how all of life's sharp edges would become too jagged, how the abrasive burn of booze had sandpapered them a bit, until I could bear them again.

I remembered the feeling of it, sliding warm down my throat, lighting a fire in my belly like a Franklin stove, sending tendrils of light through my veins, giving me the imagined power to deal with all the shit I had to deal with.

I remembered all of my dead, clamoring for my attention in my head, their sheer numbers threatening to drown me in grief and guilt, until whiskey or scotch could draw a shifting curtain of brownish haze across their shouting faces, giving me a small semblance of peace.

I remembered being able to fall into a deep sleep at night, the chemicals in my brain disrupting my ability to dream.

All of these things and more, but when I thought about it now, when I thought about the Dean that they had happened to, I felt a vast divide of Before and After. All I wanted was to give that Dean a hug, to tell him that there was a greater purpose ahead for him. One that he would get to choose this time, rather than having it forced on him. One that would change him into a better person than he had ever allowed himself to suspect he could be.

I felt a relieved smile cross my face, and opened my eyes again, to see my family turned around in their seats, watching me.

"Yeah, I'm out of the woods, I think."

Sam glanced over at Jack for confirmation – another thing that should have annoyed me, but was actually a bit of a relief because I had lied to my brother so many times, I wasn't sure he'd completely believe me, even if he said he did, and having Jack there was just the kind of magical shortcut we needed.

"That was a deep dive, Uncle Sam," Jack said, his eyes still on me, round and impressed. "I think he's good."

Sam nodded, turned away, and reached for the door handle.

"Just…"

He paused at my single word, turned back.

"Just keep an eye on me, okay? I may be free from any physical or emotional compulsions, but muscle memory is a bitch, and I won't be able to handle what I used to handle."

Sam looked dubious.

"I know, I know, but if I get all angry and defensive, just remind me of this conversation, I promise I won't fight you any more on it. You know I always keep my promises."

He watched me a few seconds longer, then cracked a grin. "Let's do this, then!"

There was a steady stream of people moving in and out of the booze superstore, so we didn't feel like the town drunks for heading in for party supplies on a Thursday night. We exchanged nods with the cashier as we passed, then made our way over to the array of tiny bottles that stretched over part of one wall.

Sam grabbed up a handbasket, echoing the more wholesome errand that had kicked our shopping spree off that morning.

When faced with the dazzling assortment, sparkling and colorful like captured butterflies pinned under glass, both Sam and Jack turned back to me, imprinted ducklings waiting to be led by someone with more experience.

I scoffed, scanning the options. "All of the expertise, none of the stamina."

"Or the cirrhosis," Sam added helpfully.

I ignored him.

"Alright. I'll pick out for Jack and me over here. Sam, you're a big boy, you know what you like, go pick out as much as you think you're going to want, and choose some for Jack to try as well."

Sam headed immediately for the gin/vodka section of the wall. I'd always dismissed his preference for the clear liquors before, preferring to chastise myself with the coarser browns, as if I deserved to be hurt as I was self-medicating. I no longer felt like I had to be that person, but it was too late to tell Sam that, when I'd mocked him for so many years.

Instead, I considered the options in front of me, and thought out loud so Jack could follow.

"Definitely a spiced rum. Most first-timers like the taste better than other alcohols."

I grabbed some of those, and a few of the unspiced as well, though I shied away from the Bacardi 151. I left the coconut ones alone – too sweet, we didn't need him throwing up his delicious dinner.

"If we're going about it scientifically, we should get you a tequila or two as well. Nothing gets a person smashed faster."

Some tiny Patron silver and Patron gold went into the basket as well.

"We'll leave scotch for another time; if you're not accustomed the burn, then it's just a waste of money, because you can't taste the flavors. Too many people throw their money away on wonderfully aged booze, then complain that it tastes like gasoline."

We moved a little further along the wall, towards where Sam was slowly working his own way back.

"Gotta have whiskey, though. Burn and flavor."

I grabbed some of the black label, and some of the blue, then looked up at my brother, who'd come close enough that we could converse without shouting.

He caught my eye, quirked a corner of his mouth, and nodded. I picked out another blue for him and dropped it into the basket as well.

"What did you come up with?"

He spread his hands, showing off his selections. "A few Tanquerays and a few Bombay Sapphires. A few Stolis and a few Grey Gooses. Geese?"

He added them to the basket, and I counted more clinks than he had named, so I poked through it, looking for what he hadn't wanted to name.

"Oooh, flavors! Sammy, you didn't want to share this with the class? Look, Jack, he's got a tangerine and a pomegranate."

Jack's eyes went wide. "Neat! Did you pick any out for me?"

Sam grinned, a little embarrassed. "I didn't know what flavors you like. Is raspberry okay?"

Jack nodded eagerly, and Sam reached out a long arm and pulled out a couple tiny clear bottles with tiny red fruits printed on the side, and a few with tiny peaches. He glanced sideways at me, raising an eyebrow. I half-shrugged. He nodded to himself, then picked out a cinnamon and a green apple.

Damn, I loved my brother.

We grabbed a few different mixers from the cooler, then hauled our loot up to the checkout stand, where the cashier bro watched, alarmed, as we unloaded our alcoholic cornucopia onto the conveyor belt.

"He just turned 21," I told the bro. "We wanted to give him as many options to try out as possible before he settled on a favorite to ruin his liver with forever."

The bro let out a multisyllabic "oooohhhhhhh" of understanding, as if this was a perfectly normal and even admirable thing to do.

Sam said, "Wait," patted at his pockets, then produced a reusable bag as if by magic.

The bro nodded again. We clearly couldn't be terrible criminals, if we brought a reusable bag, his demeanor seemed to say. Our bounty disappeared into its creased canvas depths with muffled clinks and thuds – not all of the bottles were made of glass, it seemed – and Sam pulled several bills out of his wallet to cover it all.

We sauntered out of the store, Sam slinging the bag over his shoulder, and got back into the car, already discussing what we should put on Netflix in the background once we got home.

I checked the cabin's security system from my phone on the drive home, confirming that we hadn't had any visitors while we were away. A few deer, some rabbits, and a shit-ton of birds, but nothing person-sized. Not even any errant breezes, since I'd set the system to look out for those as well. Angels came with stealth-mode equipped, after all.

"Are you sure AFV is the best idea, Sam?" I asked as we stepped out onto the gravel driveway. "I get that not having a plot to follow is an upside for our purposes tonight, but Jack, do you even enjoy schadenfraude?"

Jack made a confused face, straightening up from the trunk holding one of the many bags of shopping. "Maybe? I'm not sure what that means, exactly."

Sam looked surprised that I had known. "It means, enjoying the sight of unfortunate things happening to people. Sort of a "I'm glad that's not me" thing."

I tried to help. "You know, if someone trips and falls, and you know they're not really hurt, you can laugh, because you find it amusing."

Jack looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe? We can give it a try. I'll try to keep my empathy set to low."

I unlocked the front door, disarmed the security system, and we hauled everything inside.

They got the bags all sorted, and I worked on hooking the laptop and the Chromecast up to the television in the living room. When the Hulu logo was glowing on the large screen as well as the small, I closed its shiny lid and went to find the others.

They were standing by the kitchen counter, sorting tiny bottles into types. I swept in, grabbed a Patron and handed it to Jack, and chose an unspiced rum for myself. "Bottom's up on number one of the night, kid. Might as well get past this now before we settle in, in case it doesn't agree with you."

Sam and Jack exchanged a glance and a shrug. Sam snagged a gin, and in a movement so beautifully synchronized we might have choreographed it ahead of time, we cracked the seals, tilted our heads, and poured it back.

I limited myself to a small swallow of mine, the burn accompanied by a slight tingle of apprehension at the memories of past-Dean I'd brought up, and then looked at my companions. Sam had stopped as well, though he took a breath, half-shrugged to himself, then finished it up.

Jack took the whole shot like a champ, though his face turned red and he coughed a bit once it'd gone down.

"Sorry, kid, should have had salt and lemon for you. I'm not sure it would have made it any better, but at least following a silly ritual might have distracted you from the afterburn. How do you feel?"

He wiped a hand over his face and shook back his hair, then looked at his hand, flexing his fingers a few times. "Warm," he said. "Feels warm all over."

"Do you want to take the amulet off?" Sam asked, setting his empty at the other end of the counter. "Or do you feel safer with it holding your power in close?"

Hmm, that one hadn't even occurred to me. "I vote take it off," I put in. "I don't want to feel guilty over a horrible burn scar on your chest if you melt it on accident, and I think the wards will hold. You can always put it back on later, if you feel your control slipping."

He looked back and forth between us, then reached up and slipped the cord over his head. There was an inaudible feeling of something sighing, expanding, relaxing in the room with us, a gentle shockwave. I imagined Cas's invisible wings unfolding, interacting as little as possible with the physical world but still existing, and I felt comforted.

I also felt warm. It had been a long time since I'd felt affected by this small an amount of alcohol, but that's what we were about tonight, so I might as well do this thing properly. I swallowed the rest of my bottle, then took Jack's from his unresisting hand and put them beside Sam's.

"Let's move this into the other room and give watching unfortunate things happen to other people a try. I suggest pajamas."

The others agreed. We each gathered handfuls of tiny bottles, and I stopped at the pantry to grab a box of Ritz crackers, just in case.

"Morning, Sunshine!" Sam said cheerfully.

Yawning over my coffee cup, I wanted to smack him square in his smiling face. My body was too accustomed to general misuse for a hangover to bother me, but that didn't keep me from feeling like I'd rather still be in bed.

"Do you think Jack's okay?"

"He'll be fine," I grunted. "Kid's got Wolverine's healing powers. Probably wake up as chipper as you."

Sam raised an eyebrow at me. "And how did we figure that one out?"

"I didn't stab him or anything, if that's what you're implying."

Sam rolled his eyes at me and poured his own cup of coffee. The happenings of last night were only visible in a tied garbage bag of recycling on the floor by the back door, and a few remaining gins we'd left on the sink, planning to argue about custody when we were sober again.

"I think last night went well. I was half-worried he'd be as immune as Cas," Sam said.

I found a liquor store, a voice growled in my memory. I drank it.

It brought a smile to my face against my will, and I thumbed my ring again, my talisman. Thank you, Castiel, for my health, I prayed to him. Stay strong, wherever you are. We're coming for you.

Sam's eyes dropped to my hand at the gesture, as they had several times yesterday, but he again refrained from commenting or asking any questions. He could probably make a pretty good guess, even without my input.

"From a scientific standpoint," I made sure to sound as Vulcan as possible, "I found it fascinating that the more he drank, the more human he got. With the AFV, I mean. At first, he was just as baffled as any angel as to why we'd find people fallin' over so hilarious. But then that cat jumped on that baby, and he lost it."

Sam nodded over his mug. "You'd think it'd be the other way around. If the human side of him gets drink-dulled, shouldn't the grace side of him become more dominant?"

I gave him a crooked smile. "Not necessarily. Think of it like the metaphor we lived out. If humans let themselves be humans, they're stronger than angels. A drunk human can beat a sober angel any day, if the angel plays by the rules. And they always do. I bet his grace was more confused than anything else."

He took a minute to analyze that, and seemed to like the result. "Pancakes?" he asked, when he'd finished thinking.

"You even have to ask?"

We went for a hike together that day, after I'd set up the slow cooker with dinner. Jack had indeed risen none the worse for wear, so we'd eaten Sam's delicious pancakes, showered up, packed lunch and some water, and set off into the mountains.

Sam quizzed Jack on Hunter lore, and we discussed the Underworlds we might have to visit. Luckily, the angels were not sinners, and therefore shouldn't be being punished in their afterlife, so there shouldn't be too much in the way of guards to fight past, or tortures to rescue them from. Hopefully, just a chat with the overseer would suffice.

"When people think of the Norse underworld," lectured Sam, despite the terrain, "they think Valhalla, where the Valkyries take warriors killed in battle to party with Odin forever, but apparently only about half of the warriors go there. Well, the leaders, really, or if you died in a really heroic way. The rest, the rank and file, go to Freyja's hall Sessrúmnir, in the field called Fólkvangr. The main difference is, with Freyja, since she's a war goddess, if she's ever called to battle, she will bring her host of the dead with her, to be her army. In my opinion, that's a much more likely option for dead angels than honeyed mead and roast boar for eternity."

I nodded thoughtfully, focusing on my breathing as we climbed a steep incline. "Yeah, if Chuck subjugated Freyja into workin' for him, that could definitely work."

Glancing over at Jack, who was staring out at the surrounding scenery in gentle awe, I felt an absurd sense of relief. "Good thing you're here, kid. With that info, and no other options, I don't think I would have hesitated to kick off a cosmic war, just so she'd bring her army to this plane with her, and then I'd have sorted out the rest once they got here."

Jack smiled. "I'd have expected no less. Glad to be of service."

"Freyja's a pretty wild chick, by all reports," Sam said. "She's a goddess of gold, love, sex, beauty, and fertility, but also sorcery, war, and death. Likes to cover all the bases. Likes cats, too – rides in a chariot pulled by two of them, along with her pet boar, and she has a cloak that can turn her into a falcon. She loves love songs – Dean, that'll be your department – and she's said to be pretty receptive to prayers, especially ones that concern love."

I wanted to object to the love song jab, but Sam steamed on before I could get a word in.

"She's married to Odin – or some relative of the Odin figure, the mythology is unclear since translations differ and a lot's been lost over the centuries – and they have a couple of beautiful daughters, but she still gets to sleep with whoever she likes. The gods of Asgard don't seem too upset about a little discreet adultery, especially since Odin is away a lot."

"She sounds like she might be willing to at least hear us out, if she still is all that she was," I said, remembering the hearth-goddess we'd had to execute. She had been good and kind in the mythologies, but time had robbed her of her power and her followers.

Jack nodded. "With all that going for her, I bet she'd be able to get Chuck to agree to a contract where she gets some sort of eternal power boost in exchange for running the place where his first children go when they die."

"Also, in some translations, Fólkvangr means 'field of the Host.' It all fits very neatly."

"Makes sense," I said. "What are our other options?"

"The other most likely place is Elysium," said Sam. "It's said that those who were 'close to the gods' were usually granted admission, rather than those who were especially righteous or ethical, though it later seems to let in people considered 'heroes' as well. By all reports, it's pretty chill, no labors or punishments or anything, where you eat sweet fruit and do whatever it was you enjoyed during life, all day, forever, though you can also do sports or play music."

"Sounds nice," I said, trying to keep the wistfulness out of my voice. Sounded great, actually. Would Cas actually want to leave? Once he'd been able to lay his burden down, how could I ask him to pick it up again?

"So who's in charge there?" asked Jack, and I snapped back to attention.

"Some stories say a son of Zeus named Radamanthys, who was also a judge of the dead, and a king of Crete. There's an old law credited to him, which says that anyone who defends themselves against someone else who initiated the violence, should not be punished.

"Other stories say that Kronos the Titan does the actual ruling there, and Radamanthys is his right-hand man. Kronos ruled the gods before Zeus overthrew and imprisoned him, and he's still sort of acknowledged as a harvest god. Yearly festival and everything."

"Sounds like a nice guy," I said, but Sam shrugged.

"Castrated his own father, not that Uranus was such a great dad. But then he and his sister ruled for a while, and it was called the Golden Age, when everyone was a such a good person that there wasn't a need for laws or anything, people just did the right thing.

"His son, Zeus, locked him up for a while, for eating his own children, but then eventually forgave him and put him in charge of the Elysian Fields. At least, that's what some of the stories say. Again, translations and interpretations differ, since they were all written by mortals anyway."

"My vote's with Freyja," said Jack. "Angels are soldiers all their lives. They're never taught to think for themselves. I think an afterlife of military drills suits them just fine. They wouldn't be happy with anything else, and Chuck wanted all his creations to be happy."

"Then why did he like Cas so much?" I asked. We had reached a crest and stopped for lunch on a large boulder, surrounded by rugged wilderness. "He kept bringing Cas back, forgiving him for breaking the rules, because he was made to question the rules. Maybe in the Elysian fields, once they don't have to be soldiers any more, they can get in touch with the little bit of themselves that's human, and figure out something they actually enjoy."

"It's a nice theory," Sam said, handing around slices of an apple that he'd cut up with his hunting knife. ("What?" he'd asked defensively at our disgusted looks. "I washed it first!"). "Cronus's Golden Age lawful-good people sound more angel than human, anyway."

"So which should we hit up first?"

"Ah, there's a problem with that," Sam said. We raised our eyebrows at him.

He pointed his sandwich at Jack. "You don't even know how powerful you are. Some of the things I've read about Nephilim... Let me explain. So, you think you know what Underworld you want to open a way to. You think really hard about it, or focus, or however you do what you do, and you reach toward that destination, and you make a thin space in the universe between where you are, and where it is you want to go. Then you push through the thin space, and you're there.

"Here's the problem: if the place you're focusing on doesn't exist, by the time you push your way through to it, it will. You will create an entire universe around your intent. So we had better make damn sure we're going someplace real, and not just fiction made up by humans dead for thousands of years, or we're going to set a trap for ourselves and then fall right into it.

"And it'd feel real, too. You'd create the guardians I just told you about, and even a Castiel and Gabriel to rescue. But they wouldn't be ours. Ours would still be languishing in whatever Angel Heaven they're stuck in, while we walk away, thinking we've succeeded, and live Happily Ever After."

Jack's eyes were huge, and his mouth hung open a bit.

"Any way to guard against that?" I asked.

"Small details. If we see something we know isn't right, it's because Jack put it there, and we're in the wrong place."

"Tell me a few lies, then," Jack said suddenly. "Give me a few details about each place that aren't true, and if you see them when we get there, we'll know."

Sam shook his head. "It's a great idea, but if you're visualizing the wrong details, then we'll definitely end up in the wrong place. The best I can do is leave some details out, if that's okay with you. Nothing that could affect your safety, I promise."

Jack nodded, looking a tad daunted.

"As much as I like my 'angels get hobbies in the afterlife' theory, we met up with a Greek goddess a few years back, and she wasn't doing so well, while the Norse pantheon seems to be doing pretty well for themselves, if Thor's box office smashes are anything to go by. You can't tell me that's a coincidence."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Now, that's an idea. Why is a superhero based on myth older than the discovery of America so popular, even in this day and age of science?"

I waggled a finger at him. "One word: nerds."

"Shut up," he said, laughing.

We made it back down the darkening mountain, sunburned and ravenous, by around 6PM. I scooped us out some of the beef stew that had been cooking up all day, and we inhaled it like men who hadn't eaten in days.

Though, it turned out, Sam was eating quickly due to other priorities. "I'm meeting Lori after she gets off of work. We're going to the Starbucks to get coffee and talk about … well, you know what we're going to talk about."

I was curious enough at the change in his opinions that I ignored the perfect opportunity he had just given me to tease him. "So you're okay going in alone? You're sure she's not a spy for the British Men of Letters?"

He shrugged, scraping up the last dregs of stew. "Even if she is, we can still have a nice conversation. If she tries to kill me later, well, at least I got to talk to someone about the possibility that Missy is being groomed to take over as a good guy. See, you have no idea what I'm talking about."

Jack and I exchanged shrugs as Sam went to rinse his bowl in the sink and headed off to the shower.

"Not our fault the BBC pulled it from regular streaming services," Jack grumped. "I'd be caught up if I could, if I didn't have to pirate it. I know everyone else is doing it, but it kind of goes against my nature."

"Speaking of pirating," I said.

"And don't start with Game of Thrones. Until you get an HBO GO subscription, it will just have to be the greatest saga of our age without me."

I laughed at him. I was planning on getting that subscription anyway, but I wanted to make sure he got through all of the various incarnations of Star Trek with his own eyeballs first. "No, I was gonna suggest the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It's on Netflix, and we're on our own for the night."

"Oh," he said, then beamed, grumpiness forgotten. "Neither of us have seen it! Sounds great!"

Sam didn't make it home that night, but he sent a text that contained our secret all-clear phrase around 11PM, so either Lori hadn't revealed her agent-hood yet, or she really was just a pretty geek who worked in a pizza shop in a small town in Oregon.

Either way, Sam had probably gotten laid, so this whole vacation was going pretty well for him, all told.

Jack and I got up at the usual time, swam a lap around the lake, ate cereal, did yoga, and had moved on to hand-to-hand in the clearing beside the house when the driveway crunched under Sam's tires.

He unfolded himself from the car and gave us a sheepish grin. "Hi, guys, what'd I miss?" He looked wrecked from lack of sleep, but relaxed, too, like something had drained the constant tension from his shoulders. Someone, anyway, I thought to myself, snorting a bit.

"You're just in time for grappling, Princess," I called over to him. "Shower up and get your workout clothes on. I've taught Jack what I can, I wanna see if you can come up with anythin' I might've missed."

"Looks like he's already done his fair share of grappling for the day," Jack added as an aside, and I stopped trying to get past his guard and held up my hand for a high-five, which he readily accepted. A crack resounded through the woods, startling birds into flight and making my hand throb like a bitch. The kid gave solid high-fives.

Sam laughed along good-naturedly, not being able to muster the annoyance to roll his eyes. We weren't wrong, after all. "Sure, I'll be right out."

We took a breather while we waited, the breeze cooling our sweaty hides.

"Dean, when do I get to meet Sheriff Mills? And Alex and Claire? They're family, too, right?"

The thought of Jody Mills brought a smile to my face. "That's right. And, soon, kid. She'd've been out here the day after you were born if we'd've let her, but we warned her off, and besides, she's got a job, unlike us. Anyway, we need to field-test your amulet a little longer before I'd be comfortable takin' it on a road trip away from our safe space here. Is it something you'd be comfortable sleepin' in, for instance?"

He pulled a face. "Not sure. That's a good point."

"We might be able to ward the car, like the cabin is warded, and sleep in that," I suggested. "Sam will have to let us know if it can be done to something made of steel – iron and its alloys usually resist magic in a pretty hardcore way."

I smiled again. "She's heard so much about you from both of us by now, she's going to welcome you like another son. Man, she was so friggin' happy for us when she met Mary for the first time, and I'd never heard her so sad when we told her what happened. And we've been through some sad shit together, let me tell you."

"When we start making final plans for the invasion of another dimension, she's definitely on our strategy committee," said Sam, appearing on the step again and balancing on one leg to stretch a quad. "We're not leaving this universe without consulting her first. She'd kill us both if we tried."

I nodded in agreement. "Alex is pretty chill, trying her best to be normal, but she's seen some shit in her time as well. And Claire … well, Claire is Claire. She didn't take the news about Cas very well. In all honesty, if she catches wind of the idea that we're plannin' on goin' after him, she'll want to come along."

Sam nodded, stretching first one arm, then the other, across his chest. The thought had occurred to him as well, it seemed.

"And this isn't a 'the more, the merrier' kind of excursion, no matter how friendly a chat we plan on having with whichever underworld guardian we encounter?" Jack asked, head tilted to the side.

"Nothin' ever goes according to plan in this business," I told him. "Haven't I taught you that one yet? I'm not riskin' the girl that Cas thinks of as his daughter. I've done some horrible things to him in our time together, but I'm pretty sure that'd be the one thing that pushed him over the line into 'never forgiving me ever again' territory."

"Not sure that's possible, from what I can tell," Jack said, taking Sam's outstretched hand and letting himself be hauled to his feet. "He loves you for all your broken and tarnished bits, as well as the smooth and polished ones."

Luckily for me, Sam engaged Jack in a wrestling match at that point, so neither of them were watching while I stared up at the sky, trying to keep my eyes – and the echoing void in my gut – from running over. Damn, kid, you know just what to say to knock the wind out of a guy.

After the unarmed combat lesson, Sam went through the rest of the weaponry with Jack, testing his proficiency, supplying helpful hints where I had not. For example, Jack was thrilled when Sam reached into a bag and brought out a few katana.

Swords were not my deal. Give me a big fuck-off knife any day, and 'elegance' can go hang. I did a few pliometric exercises up and down the driveway to give myself something to do while Sam introduced Jack to some stances and some elementary kendo moves.

"Practice these for a bit every day. Make sure you have good form. Muscle memory will do the rest for you," Sam said, and dug a wooden practice sword out of the bag as well, propping it up on the porch like it lived there now. Which, of course, it did.

I balanced up into a headstand, then breathed through the pressure and watched them for a bit, upside-down. The amulet-and-wards issue was really the only thing holding us back at this point. Jack was as good as Sam and I had been when we'd started.

Better, because for the longest time, for Mom's sake, Dad had pretended there was no such thing as monsters, and let us believe what we wanted about why we never stopped chasing whispers all over the country.

We had never lied to Jack. I found it difficult to see how Dad had managed lying to us. He knew the monsters were real, he fought them regularly, and it still took him forever to finally teach Sam and I to defend ourselves. It was a miracle that none of the ones he'd missed had come for us one day while he was out.

Hmm. Mom had always said angels watched over us. Thanks, Cas.

When Sam was satisfied, we showered up and ate lunch, then piled into the car. We were calling it research, but the internet was on fire with how good the new Thor movie was, so really we just wanted to go see it.

In the car on the way back, my phone buzzed with a security alert.

I focused in hard, feeling a tingle of adrenaline in my fingertips, even though we were at least a half-hour away. The relevant camera spooled footage over my screen, and I found myself grinning in relief. A problem, yes, but not a dangerous one.

"Dean, what's up?" Sam asked.

"We've got a visitor at the cabin," I said.

The car swerved a little as his hands jerked, but he steadied them before he drove us into the sparse oncoming traffic. "What?"

"Just some of the family dropping in for a visit, nothing to worry about," I said. Sam did not look reassured, but Jack looked disturbingly eager. I really needed to take the kid on a Hunt, to show him it wasn't quite the glamour job he was imagining, but his birth had scared everything into hiding, and they showed very little sign of wanting to poke their heads back up, even half a year later. For all his champing at the bit, I had my doubts that he could actually kill anything, if confronted with the choice.

And it's always a choice, I reminded myself, as I had lectured Jack over and over when Lucifer's grace-memories waxed strong. I wasn't the only one who needed a midnight cup of hot cocoa in the kitchen every so often. I only hoped Sam was okay, all alone in the empty bunker with no one to sit with when his nightmares felt too real.

The things I had done while under the influence of the Mark of Cain would always haunt me. There's always a choice, to take away a life, and I had chosen wrong so many times while my soul was demon-twisted. I had almost scared away the person waiting at the cabin, and it would have hurt Cas deeply, no matter what Jack said.

"Dean," Jack's voiced drifted to me from miles away. "Pull up. Wherever you're going, there's no reason. Come back."

Sam shot me a worried glance in the mirror, but he gave another one to Jack. He hadn't noticed anything wrong, but then, we were crap at feelings, my brother and I. Jack was cheating, but he still deserved credit for noticing.

"Well spotted, kid. I'm good now, thanks. Guilty memories are the worst."

Sam made an 'ah!' sort of face. He knew me well enough, and knew what things I felt guilty over (that list was damn long, but the list of living folks we called family was short), to put together who was waiting for us.

I caught his eye in the rearview, shook my head. Jack deserved a nice surprise every now and again. How often was the person breaking into your house not there to kill you? It wasn't something that he was going to get to experience much.

To distract him – I had no doubt he'd see it for the diversionary tactic that it was, but I was hoping he'd roll with it anyway – I asked, "So, Jack, what's the news on Angel Radio these days? Six months of inactivity enough to convince them you're not the walking apocalypse?"

Jack gave me a cool look, telling me I hadn't fooled him, but he warmed to the topic. "There actually seem to be factions forming; I think I'm getting a fan club. There are regular broadcasts from a few individuals that I'm getting better at recognizing, asking me to save them all, expressing their faith that I'm going to bring peace and happiness to the world."

"Kelly must be gettin' through to some people upstairs," I said, smiling at the thought of her, standing in the doorway of her eternal Heaven where she wasn't breaking any rules, lecturing any passing angel about her son and how proud she was of him.

He smiled back, proud of her in turn. "So, who's at the house?" he asked.

"Someone you'll be happy to meet," I said. "Stop trying to spoil it."

"How do you suppose they found us?" Sam asked, carefully selecting a gender-neutral pronoun.

"Deed to the cabin, probably. A little digging in public record – and in not-so-public-record – was bound to turn it up eventually. And they've probably been looking for a while. You know how determined they can be."

We passed a car parked on the side of the road a mile or so before our driveway. Sam snorted a little at the sight of it.

"You recognize it?" Jack asked, searching for clues. If Sam had a memory of seeing it before, then maybe it was in his head as well.

"Nope," Sam answered, unfortunately for Jack. "I just recognize when someone's trying to sneak up on us. Security systems were never our strong suit before, so they're probably not expecting us to have one now."

"Probably can't credit us with bein' able to use technology well enough to have one," I said as we rolled to a stop at the head of the driveway. "She thinks we're too old and dumb."

Jack popped out of the passenger seat, looking up at the house. He would have bolted for it, but I had a hold on the back of his jacket, holding him in place. "It's a she?" he asked. "Who would try to sneak up on you, though?"

"Family," I replied. "'Specially when they're not happy with something you've done, or something they know you're plannin' on doin' in the future. Come on, let's go say hi."

We crunched over to the porch, where I made a big show out of turning off the security system from my phone before unlocking the door. I waited a few beats.

Jack made an impatient noise, but Sam was grinning. "Think she's going in the back?"

"Yeah. I want to give her a chance to get settled in some mysterious and accusatory pose before we bust in and ruin her carefully crafted scene." She's a good kid, but wow, such a teenager.

"Alright, lights, camera, action," I said, whipping open the door.

Claire Novak was sitting in a chair that she'd pulled to the center of the entryway, positioned so that the porch light illuminated her figure dramatically. It was actually pretty impressive, given how little time she'd had.

"Hi, Claire, nice of you to drop by," I said, flipping on the living room light and ruining the whole effect.

She let out a gusty sigh. "You've got cameras now? You're kidding me! Since when?"

"Since me," said Jack. They had followed me in, Sam closing the door behind them and re-arming the security system.

"Who's 'me'?" she asked, standing up so she could examine him better.

"Hi, my name is Jack," he said, holding out his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Claire squinted at him, and at his hand, but decided he wasn't a threat, and shook it. "I've heard practically nothing about you, except Jody thinks Dean and Sam are probably ruining you without a woman's touch around the house."

"She's probably right," I said. "Come here, already."

Claire happily gave me and Sam each a hug. She didn't notice the way that Jack was flexing the hand she'd touched, looking a little dazed, but I did. Hmm, interesting.

"Wait, wait, I'm mad at you," she said when she'd pulled back from Sam. "You're planning a rescue, and you're going to try to leave me behind. Don't deny it."

I held up my hands, palms out in surrender, then moved into the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. She followed me, still waiting on an explanation, but accepted a bottle as well, if only to have something to do with her hands. The chipped black polish on them glinted in the kitchen light, though her eyes looked tired, and her hair looked tousled and unwashed. Our cabin was a pretty long drive from anywhere, it seemed.

The others had followed, so this seemed like as good a room as any for a chat, especially since Sam was still using the couch as a bed. "Have a seat," I told her. "Want some leftover stew? We were planning on warmin' some up for dinner."

"Ugh, you're worse than Jody. She's always trying to feed me. She probably thinks I'm anorexic."

"She loves you, and she thinks that if you're going to Hunt, then you need to eat better," said Sam, who had taken up a position leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over his broad chest. "It comes up during our phone calls a lot."

Claire made a small oh noise, before sitting and meekly accepting a bowl of stew.

Jack took another chair at the table, apparently unable to keep his eyes off of her.

"What's your deal?" she asked him between mouthfuls.

"You're the first human I've met besides these two that knows what I am," he said. "It's a weird feeling, kind of like being naked."

She raised blonde eyebrows at him, and he blushed. I'd never seen him do that before.

She turned to me. "Dean, stop teaching him metaphors. You suck at them, and you're going to ruin him, just like Jody says."

I shrugged at her. "Can't stop, won't stop," I said, then grinned when she choked on her next spoonful.

We reconvened around the table when the dishes were cleared. Claire had come a long way, but she didn't seem like she was willing to wait until morning. I was going to make damn sure she at least got a shower in before she crashed, though. Seeing her hair all greasy gave me a feeling of paternal concern, to which I had no right.

"So," she said as an opener. "You guys are going to save Castiel, right?"

"'Save' is a strong word, with connotations that don't apply here," replied Sam. Undeterred by her unimpressed look, he pressed on. "When we figure out where it is that he went, we're going to find our way in, and ask him if he'd like to come back. It's up to him. He lived a long, long, long life. If he wants to rest now, we'll have to accept that."

"What? How is that fair to the rest of us? We need him!"

I was startled when she gestured at me, including me in the we part of the needing. She wasn't wrong, but I hadn't expected her to be so perceptive. Then again, I was wearing the ring again today, and she was a smart kid, after all.

"If he doesn't want to come back, it would be selfish of us to ask him to, just for us," I told her.

"But- You- He- Ugh!"

"Not all of us speak Teenager," Sam said.

She shot him a venomous glare, and tried again, speaking slow and deliberate, as if to a particularly slow child. "But Castiel and Dean are soul mates. How could he think of not coming back for him, at least, if not for me, the girl he orphaned?"

Jack made a noise then, sort of an audible wince, and I had a thought.

"Jack, did Cas pack Jimmy Novak into the grace-memories he left you?"

Claire whipped around to look at him, and he became fascinated by the floor as he gave a single nod.

She let him off the hook after a long minute of silent staring, in favor of turning back to me. "We can get into that later, when I've had a shower and some sleep. Right now, we're talking about you and Sam, and how you're going to ditch me. I deserve to be there. That way, if he doesn't want to come back," said sarcastically, with a withering glare at Sam, "I can at least say a proper goodbye."

"Bullshit," I said. "If you're there, he'll come back out of guilt, and you know it. That's not fair to him at all."

"But you're going to take Jack, aren't you?" she asked. "How is that fair? I've been hunting longer than him."

"Because Jack is a being of unimaginable power, and we can't get anywhere near the Angel Afterlife without him, and it'd be rude to ask him to open the door for us and then tell him he can't walk through it."

She studied Jack, squinting. "Nope, I don't see it."

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. "Jack, take off the amulet."

"What? Oh."

He had forgotten he was wearing it, which was an excellent sign in terms of comfort during long-term usage. He reached into his collar and scooped it out, then pulled it over his head and laid it on the table.

When he pulled his hand away, his power eased through the room like the warm exhalation of a sleeping behemoth, and Claire's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. "Holy crap."

"Yeah, that's a pretty apt way to describe it," he said, shrugging. "I get this angelic power in exchange for no mom, hiding behind protective runes, and people trying to kill me for the rest of my life, and I can't even use it, or those people would find me immediately."

She gave him a reassuring, though shaky, smile. "That's what Dean and Sam are here for. When those bad people show up, the Winchesters stop them. And the ones that come after them. And the ones after them, too. Eventually, they quit coming."

Well, that was pretty flattering. Despite everyone that we'd lost, I guess we'd saved some, too. Enough to make Claire think we were winning, anyway.

Jack smiled back. "So I've heard."

Claire pounced on his word choice. "They won't let you hunt, either? You? Well, I feel better now. I thought they didn't want me hunting because they thought I was weak."

"Haven't they lost enough people, to not want to lose any of the ones they have left?"

"They don't get to decide that for me!"

"And would you rob Castiel of that choice as well?"

She stopped, mouth open. The two young people stared at each other across the table, having an apparent moment of silent understanding that my brother and I were not privy to, despite sitting right there.

Eventually, she blinked. "Dude, we have got to get you to Jody's Rehabilitation Home for Monster Children, before they turn you into one of them and it's too late."

"Too late for what, exactly?" asked Sam archly.

"Too late to let him be a kid, instead of a Hunter," she said. "He's already talking like one."

"I want to be a Hunter, though," Jack interjected.

"As someone stuffy and old once said, the monsters will always be there. Take time for life, before you give it up to chase death."

"You didn't listen when I tried it on you," I told her. "What makes you think it'll work on him?"

"Life hasn't ruined him yet. I don't have any path except this one left. I know what's out there, so I have to fight it, but he-" she cut herself off, turned to him, "you can still do anything you want!"

A corner of Jack's mouth quirked up, amused but ironic. "She's coming to Disneyland with us, right?"

"Wha-" she squawked, caught wrong-footed.

"Bet your ass she is. Special Minnie Mouse ears for this one."

She recovered quickly. "Only if you wear them, too."

"Deal," I grinned back at her. "Little red bow and everything."

"And when is this family trip happening, exactly?"

I gave a majestic sort of hand wave. "The future. We'll get the whole gang together, while the monsters are all still in hiding, and road-trip it down to SoCal, where we will give The Mouse a metric fuckton of our money."

"And the whole gang is…?"

Her eyes glinted dangerously, and I realized I'd been led into a trap, back to the part of the conversation I'd been trying to avoid.

"Look, you can't come with us to get Cas because we don't even know where we're going yet," I said. "I can promise you we won't leave without coming to see Jody first, so it's not like we're going to vanish without saying goodbye."

"Speaking of vanishing, Jack, can you check her for any of Cas's grace?" Sam asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

She tilted her head at him, confused. "What? Why?"

"Because there's something upstairs that you should see, and Jack's answer will determine whether or not you can touch as well."

Jack deemed her clear, so she was able to place her hand flat against the translucent barrier that separated her from the man who'd worn her father's face, while tears streamed down hers.

She accepted a hug from me then, stepping in to my chest and letting my arms go around her, her head turned to the side so she could still see the casket, and we breathed together until the ache was manageable again.

Then Jack told her she could sleep in his bed, since he didn't actually need to sleep that night, and I got her a clean towel and washcloth, and a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and pushed her into the bathroom.

"Use Sam's shampoo," I called though the door. "I want to see if it's magic or not."

In the morning, her hair did look clean again, but not magically shiny, so I guess the magic wasn't in the shampoo after all. She wandered in around 11AM, looking much better than she had the night before, though there were still dark circles under her eyes.

With the things she'd seen, I guess she also had a lifetime membership to the nightmare club.

She came into the kitchen when we were in various states of sweaty exhaustion, trying to muster the strength to make ourselves lunch, and she did a sort of double-take at the sight.

"Good God, do any of you ever do anything besides work out? Look at you, you're all disgustingly healthy." Her eyes kept catching on our pectorals and skidding away, and she seemed to be having a hard time meeting our eyes.

I grinned over at Jack. "She thinks you're cuuuuute," I sing-songed at him.

"Shut up!"

"Yeah, I know, I saw it when I tested her last night."

"What? That was private!"

"It's okay, Claire. He is pretty cute. Not that big a secret."

She turned so red, I was expecting steam to pour out of her ears.

"Aw, thanks, Uncle Dean, I didn't know you'd noticed!"

"ANYWAY," she said. "Moving on and NEVER MENTIONING THAT AGAIN, do you guys think you could give me some tips? Hunting, and fitness, since you all seem to be such experts all of a sudden."

"Depends. Where does Jody think you are right now?" said Sam.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm assuming she thinks I'm here with you, because I am absolutely certain that you've already called her. Nice try."

Cue another montage. Sam went back to the bunker after hanging out with us a few more days, but he said he'd come up with several new angles to research, including how to bind a warding to the interior of a moving vehicle.

Claire stayed on with us, working with Jack and me to get stronger, better. Jack gave up his bedroom and surfed the couch that Sam had slept on, until I ordered a new twin bed and set it up in my room. Neither of us had much in the way of what you could call "stuff," and I'd spent so many nights in single hotel rooms with Sam, it felt good to sleep in a room where someone else was breathing again.

We had regular calls with Jody to check in, and I could tell she had mixed feelings about the whole thing, but she knew Claire would be Hunting anyway, and at least this way she stood a better chance of surviving. Jody went out of her way to engage Jack as well, until they were fast friends.

Jody insisted that Claire continue the schoolwork that she was skipping, so generally we spent mornings on working out and training, and afternoons on history, grammar, science, and high school mathematics, with random cardio breaks to get the blood pumping when the kids' eyes started to cross from boredom.

I worked on Claire's car whenever I had the chance. I didn't like the thought of it quitting on her at an inopportune moment. Sometimes Jack came to watch me, and I taught him about cars the same way Bobby had taught me.

I had a chance to ask Jack about Jimmy Novak one afternoon while Claire was in the shower.

"Yeah, he's in there, as sort of an echo. When I met her, I got Castiel's memory of Jimmy's memory of holding Claire when she was born, which was way weird. I'd seen her through your and Sam's memories, and through Castiel's, and through Castiel's memory of Jimmy's. It was surreal to actually see her for myself."

"So, what do you think of her?"

Jack blushed, which was exactly what I'd been expecting. He watched her when he thought no one was looking, studied her form more intensely than warranted when they were sparring, averted his gaze whenever she looked back at him.

"Is she giving you feelings?" I asked, not even stumbling on the word. I actually wanted to discuss this with him. It felt important.

"I … think so? I mean, I have all of your feelings, and Sam's and Castiel's. It's kind of hard to sort out my own. But sometimes, like when we're swimming or something, I feel things that I'm pretty sure aren't fatherly."

"But not in a sexual way?"

"I like being near her, I like when she smiles, I wouldn't mind getting closer to her, but I'm not sure I've got that extra…" He made an expressive hand gesture and trailed off, unable to find a word to describe a sexual attraction he did not feel. "I don't think I'm capable. Is there something wrong with me?"

"Check out some articles on asexuality, next time you've got a break from schoolwork. It's not just an angel thing. There are all sorts of humans who have no interest in sex. Nothin' wrong with it, but just like you can't describe to me what it feels like to desire someone sexually, I wouldn't be able to explain to you what it feels like to be asexual. It's just a different way to be wired."

"Castiel was, though?"

I nodded. "I believe so, yes."

"But he loves you?"

"More than the entire universe, if everything he's done for me proves anything."

"And it doesn't bother you? You've been heterosexual for your entire life, from what I've seen in your head, with a few minor exceptions when you were extremely intoxicated."

I shrugged. "He is who he is, I can't change him, and I wouldn't if I could. When we get him back, we'll do whatever he's comfortable with. If he needs me to farm out my sexual needs to kind strangers, it won't be anything I haven't been doing my whole life anyway."

"But you haven't been doing that. Not since before I was born."

"I'm his," I said simply. "Pickin' up random chicks in bars was starting to feel like cheating on him, so I stopped. So you see, I haven't given anything up for you, like you seem to think. I'm just in a committed relationship with an asexual guy who's temporarily dead, so he can't approve or disapprove. Not something I can explain to a one-night-stand."

"I see." And then, with the casual selfishness of youth – so rarely shown by him but increasing the more time he spent with Claire – he turned it back to his own situation. "What do you think Claire thinks about sex?"

"She's most likely a little bit damaged in that department. Raised religious, turned Hunter who believes in nothing, she's probably had to use sex as a means to an end more often than she'll care to admit, rather than it being an act of tenderness. I think what she's got now, with Jody and Alex, and with us, is the longest relationship she's had since Cas ran off with her dad's body."

"So?"

"So it could go either way. Either she'll want more than you can give, or nothing at all, or something in between that you'll work out between the two of you that meets both of your needs. Just work on being her friend for now. She'll let you know when she's ready for anything else, if she ever is."

"I can do that."

Sometimes, Claire helped make dinner. Sometimes, she took a look at the ingredients we were working with, said something along the lines of, "Oh, hell no," and took off for town in her rust bucket, returning to the cabin a few hours later smelling like fast food.

Sometimes she took Jack with her, saying that he needed real food, and that salad didn't count. They stayed gone longer when they went together, and the house felt dark and empty, with only my personal void to keep me company.

On one such occasion, as Jack was pulling his shoes on, I joined him on the couch to lace up my own.

Two surprised young faces turned to me. "Don't worry, children, I'm not going to tag along and harsh your buzz. I'll take my own car and seek out the company of adults."

Claire stood watching me, fists on hips. She was growing up fast, her awkward angles softening and the haunted cast of her face easing with time. When I stood and reached for a hoodie, she swatted my hand away and handed me the leather jacket from the closet instead.

She messed with my hair for a bit, up on her toes to reach, and I bent my knees to accommodate her. When she stepped back, she gave me a final critical once-over, then nodded.

"I'm not looking to impress anyone," I told her, trying not to whine.

"You're going to, anyway," she declared. "Come on, Jack, the movie starts at 8 and I want to grab food first."

They clattered down the porch steps and got into her car, its doors creaking unhealthily. I was going to have to teach Jack to drive soon, I realized, watching them from the front door. He had a driver's license, after all – albeit a fake one – so he might as well gain at least the semblance of independence, even if he couldn't utilize it yet.

Sam was working hard on car-bound wards. I was looking forward to giving Jack his first car and telling him he could go anywhere in it.

When their taillights disappeared, I got into my own car, cranked up the tunes, and followed behind them. I wasn't worried about catching up; Claire drove like a person who'd left the stove on at home. My car was a nondescript nothing, picked up in a used car lot and fixed up at home. Cas's pimpmobile was temporarily retired.

I pulled in at the local bar and grill about a half-hour later, craving a greasy hamburger like a newborn vamp craves blood. The joint was hopping, and with a glance at my phone's calendar, I determined it was probably due to it being Friday night. Good. The more people, the better. The echo from the piece of myself that I was missing was harder to hear when there was more going on.

I lifted myself onto a stool at a table in the wood-paneled bar area, resisting the urge to fiddle with my hair as random people gave me appreciative glances. The barmaid, a redhead in a tight t-shirt and short shorts whom Chuck had blessed with long, long legs and wicked green eyes, appeared beside my tiny high-top.

"What can I get you, handsome?"

"Whatever dark beer you have on tap, and a burger and fries, please," I told her, grinning.

"A man after my own heart," she told me, scratching my food order on her pad with a flourish of her pen. "I'll be right back with your beer."

I watched her walk away, and she caught me doing it, and gave me a smile over her shoulder. Damn. It had been a while.

I took some time to study the room. It was dimly lit, playing an old Black Sabbath song low in the background, and filling up with people who seemed to be having a good time.

Or were getting there, I thought, watching a table of college girls do a round of shots across the bar.

Then the leggy redhead was back, depositing a frosty mug of something thick-headed and dark as sin on the table in front of me. "House specialty," she said. "They brew it just up the road."

She lingered, one hand on her hip, apparently waiting for something. "Go on, try it."

Didn't have to tell me twice. I threaded my fingers through the handle, feeling the icy coolness against my palm, and hoisted the heavy mug to my mouth. Cool liquid spilled across my tongue, evoking coffee and chocolate, oak and hazelnut. "Holy shit," I said, staring into its depths.

She grinned, appeased. "That's what I like to see. Hard to find a man who enjoys a dark beer these days. Be back with your burger in just a minute."

She left me alone with my truly astonishing stout. I sipped it slowly, constantly reminding myself that not only was I a lightweight now, but that it would be a crime to rush this. It was a beer to be savored.

My head had begun to buzz pleasantly, just the slightest bit, by the time she came back with my food.

I thanked her, but she said, "No, I'd like to watch this, too, if that's okay. I'm between orders, and you're entertaining."

"Suit yourself," I said, reaching for the burger, which looked like the Light of Chuck himself was shining on it in its red plastic basket.

Tasted like it, too. My eyes shut of their own accord, and I let out an involuntary moan. "Damn, that's a good burger." We had chicken most nights, at the cabin. Flavored and cooked different ways, yes, but it could never compare with this.

When I'd swallowed, and opened my eyes again, she was sitting on the other stool across the table, head propped up on a fist with her elbow braced on the table, pupils blown wide in a way not accounted for by the low light.

"I'm sorry if this is unprofessional, but that was pretty hot," she said. "You make those noises in bed, too?"

I felt a warmth at the base of my spine, and despite my best intentions, I let Little Dean take the wheel.

"I've been known to." Flirting was a reflex, a survival instinct at this point. "Mostly it's the people I'm in bed with who make the noises."

Her mouth opened in a breathy half-gasp. She gazed at me a beat more, licked her lips, and then someone yelled Angela through the short-order window, and she jerked like she'd been hit with a cattle prod.

"Enjoy your burger," she murmured, sliding off the stool, making sure I saw the way her legs completed the maneuver.

Angel-a, huh? That was a sign if I'd ever heard one. I looked down at my ring – I wore it everywhere now, when I wasn't sparring with the kids, and Claire had given up on the knowing looks when she realized I didn't care what she assumed she knew – and it flashed encouragingly blue at me, even though there wasn't enough direct light in the bar to catch on its facets.

I did enjoy my burger, and my remarkable beer, and the wedge-cut French fries, almost-too-hot and perfectly salted, dipped in the puddle of cool ketchup I'd shot onto my plate. I caught gazes from all around the room, from both genders, returning them all with a friendly quirk of my lips.

Is this what life could have been like for me if Dad had skipped the whole chasing-monsters obsession? Or would the angels have pulled us in anyway? Normal life had never seemed so attractive, and for once, there was nothing to keep me from enjoying it to its fullest.

Then a vampire sat down at the table across from me.

Are you fucking kidding me, was one of the thoughts that floated across my slightly inebriated brain in the seconds that followed, along with damn, I'm glad I remembered my machete and hey, he's kind of hot.

He had olive skin, thick, shiny black hair, an aristocratic nose, and dark, dark eyes. It was also clear he had no idea who I was, or what I had done to his kind in the past. I had thought, with the Alpha Vamp dead and gone, that the Age of the Bloodsucker was over in America, but I guess the British Men of Letters hadn't counted on immigrants.

Wasn't that just like the British? America was a country built on immigrants, after all, with more coming in every day. Stood to reason some of them might not be entirely human.

"Hi," I said. How did one start a conversation with a vampire, especially one who didn't know that you knew he was a vampire? Not to mention, one you didn't feel too inclined to let in on that fact? We hadn't heard of any unusual deaths in the town, and Cas wouldn't have picked this place if it was at all suspicious, so any vampires in residence had to have been on their best behavior for almost a year, at least.

"Hi," he responded, and smiled. His teeth were reassuringly normal, though I knew there were needle-like fangs tucked away in his jaws, ready to spring forth at the slightest hint of blood. The first drips of adrenaline began to seep into my system, mixing pleasantly with my beer buzz.

Suddenly, Angela was back. "Everything okay here?" she asked, her tone implying the territorial claim that she'd staked. The handsome vamp's nostrils flared, probably scenting the effect I'd had on her earlier, and he smiled at her as well.

"Everything's delicious, Angela, thank you," I told her, making sure that she saw I had no problem with anything that was happening at this point in time. Her eyes grew several sizes, shooting between me and my new friend, who were both giving her all the appropriate social cues of attraction.

"I'll…um…I'll check back with you in a bit," she said, and retreated, peeking back over her shoulder at us as she went, eyes wide and curious.

"I'm Javier," he said, his accent making his name sound like a panted breath. Little Dean paid even more attention than he had been previously.

"Dean. Are you here by yourself?" I asked.

He gave a liquid shrug. "I'd been traveling with some friends, but they made some choices I didn't agree with, so we parted ways."

That sounded like a pack of vegan vamps had gone back to the hard stuff, and my new friend had decided not to join them. I hoped I'd find a way to surreptitiously ask him where his pack had headed without outing myself.

On the other hand, why kid myself? It might just as easily be the other way around. Javier could be the one who'd decided to go back to draining the vein, and he was in this bar trolling for a poor sap who'd be willing to put themselves in a vulnerable position for him later.

I volunteer as tribute, I thought, grinning. "Their loss is my gain, it seems," I said. "What are you drinkin'?"

He swirled something red around in his thick-stemmed wineglass, coating its sides.

"They have a surprisingly good wine selection up here, for hipster gringos. This is an excellent claret. I may have another, and I've had one already."

"I also like to live dangerously, I was thinking of having another as well. Next round's on me?"

He tilted his glass, clinking it delicately against my heavier one. "I'll accept a favor from a handsome stranger."

"Can I ask you about that?" I said, leaning in and lowering my voice, so that he had to lean in as well. "I'm getting a good vibe from everyone here tonight, including our lovely waitress. I've been a relatively good-lookin' dude all my life, but I've never gotten this sort of attention before. Am I wearing a 'Tell Me I'm Pretty' sign on my back or somethin'?"

Javier chuckled. "You honestly don't get it?"

"I honestly don't. Normally, I'd have to work a lot harder to pick someone up, and at least half of the people I asked would have turned me down first."

"Turn you down? When you've got careless sex hair, a ring that screams I love my mate, and an attitude that says I'm down for anything, no guilt involved?"

My eyebrows went up. "How does all that add up to 'take me, take me'?"

He leaned his head on a hand. "Look, Dean, this might seem like a stretch, but I've gotten pretty good at analyzing people. I'm going to say, you're in a committed relationship, but your lover is far away. Fortunately for you, they understand that a man has needs, and they are completely fine with whatever you're doing here tonight. I've never seen a man so at ease with himself. It's incredibly attractive."

I blinked at him. "That's … very accurate, actually."

He smiled a dangerous smile. "I've got powers you wouldn't believe, caro."

"Bet you still can't guess where my lover happens to be."

He let that one pass. "As you say, their loss is my gain."

There was a fuzzy interior monologue going on in my brain – Dean, you're supposed to kill the monsters, not fuck them. But Sam had banged that werewolf chick, hadn't he? That doesn't make it okay!

I told the buzzkill voice, the one that sounded like my dad, to shut the fuck up and let me have this. I'd text Sam in a bit to let him know what I was up to, just in case, but for now I wanted to enjoy the novel experience of flirting with a dude.

Being aware that I was in love with Cas was freeing, I'd realized. It allowed me to see past gender as a human construct, and to appreciate purely aesthetic attractiveness of both body and soul.

"I brought you guys some refills," said our angel of a barmaid, appearing from nowhere and delicately placing a fresh dark beer and a topped-up wineglass on the table between us and scooping up my empty burger basket.

I felt full of love for all of my fellow man, fanged or otherwise. "You're amazing," I told her.

She switched her gaze back and forth between me and my companion, who was also gazing at her in open admiration. "I…um…I get off at 9," she said, a little shyly.

I, for one, found that adorable. "And again, shortly after, if we've got anything to say about it."

Javier nodded in agreement. "We'll keep each other company until you can join us, guapa."

She flushed red, as only a redhead could, but bravely mustered a question. "You, you're the author from the cabin out by the lake, right?"

"That's me. Name's Dean. Got stuck, needed a change of pace. Apparently, I found one. I'd come to town more often, if I knew all of this would be waiting for me when I showed up." I let a lazy gesture encompass the table and the two people. Well, mostly people.

"I'm Javier," he told her. "Has anyone told you how exquisite you are? Like a goddess of beauty."

Her mouth fell open a little, but her confidence rushed back all at once, and she straightened her shoulders and stood tall. "They have, a time or two. Do either of you know how to worship properly?"

"You'll have to find out later," I told her, grinning. "In the meantime, I'll arrange for the sacrifices."

She beamed at us, then swished away to wait on another table.

I wiggled my eyebrows at my vamp friend. Even I could tell a redhead would be incredibly tempting to him, with her pale skin showcasing the delicate blue veins that branched like deltas just beneath the surface of the exposed slopes of her breasts.

In fact, Javier looked conflicted, and suddenly unwilling to show his teeth. My situation was perilous, but I felt giddy, rather than defensive. I slid my empty to the edge of the table, picked up the full glass she had brought, and held it up to the vampire sitting across from me.

"I like where this evening is going, my friend," I told him. "I've never been one to say 'life is good,' but all of a sudden I'm reconsidering."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then raised his fresh glass to clink against mine again.

"I feel exactly the same way."

I felt a pang of conscience, in case I was leading that beautiful girl into a deadly trap. I needed to know which of the scenarios I'd come up with earlier was the real one, and so I'd have to give up my carefully hoarded anonymity.

"So, Javier, about these friends of yours, and your disagreement…"

He tensed up and went perfectly still. I'd never gotten a chance to examine a vampire on alert before; I'd always just gone for the throat with my huge serrated knife. He really was as still as death, not even breathing.

I put both of my hands face up on the table, trying to indicate that I wasn't a threat, wasn't about to go for a weapon. "Was it them who wanted to go back to human blood, or you?"

His swarthy face blanched as much as it could and his eyes opened as wide as I've ever seen, whites reflecting the dim light of the bar like mirrors. The mood was killed instantly, to my regret.

"Easy, easy," I soothed. "I don't care if you're a vampire. I know you haven't been feeding around here, I'm not here to judge you or punish you. Chuck knows I'd come off far worse if someone ever tried to judge me."

"You…you said…Dean. As in, Winchester?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Hell no. You're him. The boogeyman story all monsters tell to their young."

His voice was quiet, thready with panic.

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. "I'm just a man. I'm in no position to judge anyone's past actions. Kill someone in front of me? Yeah, I'd have to do somethin' about that. But meeting a person in a bar, in an area where there's been no suspicious deaths in ages? You're just a person tryin' to play out the hand he was dealt."

His frame relaxed just the slightest. "So you're not here to kill me?"

"Man, I just stopped in for a burger and a beer. I'm not chasin' trouble, if trouble doesn't trouble me."

He eyed me for a minute, then a tentative smile crept back onto his face. "In all the stories we tell each other, they never mention how gorgeous you are."

"Oh? I'm insulted. That's one of my best qualities. You'll have to add it in when you tell this one in the future."

He laughed, low and throaty with relief at the thought of having a future after realizing just whom he'd met. Did vampires still produce adrenaline? I'd have to ask Sam.

"What gave me away?" he asked.

"I knew the second you sat down, man. No human is that graceful, that … would you be insulted if I said ethereal?"

He shrugged his liquid shrug again. "Can't argue there."

"Anyway, I didn't mean to kill the mood, but you understand I had to make sure the girl won't get hurt. Not without her consent, anyway."

He nodded, thought a moment, and then decided to trust whatever was happening here. "I was the breakaway," he said, sipping his wine. "We were a good nest, a safe nest. We only drank from livestock, like the chupacabras of myth. Then we felt a strange power building in the north. Last May, that power suddenly shone like the sun, and then vanished entirely.

"My nestmates decided it was the end times. Something terrible had entered this world, and we were all going to die, yes? Might as well taste the human livestock while we had the chance. We could be sent to Purgatorio tomorrow.

"I tried to reason with them. We've seen bad things before, I said. What made this any different? They told me to grow some cojones and meet them in the afterworld, if I was man enough to get there. I left that night, and I walked north. It seemed my only option."

He was staring at his hand as one finger traced patterns in the condensation on the table from my glass.

"They went bad," he said, "but they were still my nest. I miss, if not them exactly, then the idea of them. That's why I really came in tonight. I was tired of the empty silence of what I had lost."

I placed my hand over his, gentle as an answer to a prayer. "Me, too."

"But…" His eyes fell to my ring. "You have someone…"

"They're not here right now. It's a situation I intend to fix as soon as I'm able, but for now, they're as gone as it's possible for anything to be. It hurts worse than any pain I've ever felt, and I've been to Hell and back. Yeah, that one is true, unfortunately."

After a moment, he twisted his hand under mine, letting his dampened fingers play along the underside of my wrist. "You sound like you could use a night of mind-blowing, consequence-free sex."

His dark eyes glanced coyly up at me from under a fall of black hair.

"I'd say that's just what the doctor ordered."

I chauffeured a dozing Angela back to her car in the parking lot a few hours later. We'd retired to Javier's hotel room the minute her shift had ended, and had not given her any cause to regret it.

"Wake up, honey," I said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The smell of her core was still strong in my nostrils, soaked up by my five o'clock shadow. I throbbed and ached in all the right places, thoroughly spent.

"Hmmm?" she said, cracking open her eyes. Her voice was rough from use. Between Javier and me, we'd made her sing like a Stradivarius, and she'd given back as good as she'd gotten. I'd felt more than a little worshipped, myself.

"You okay to get home from here? Or do you need me to take you the rest of the way?"

She snorted a slightly delirious laugh. "People would talk, if my car stayed in the lot all night. I've got this, don't worry."

"I'm old-fashioned. I'd follow you home to make sure you got there okay, if it wouldn't seem stalkerish and creepy."

"How about I just text you?" She held out a hand for my phone.

"That'd do it." I pulled it out of a jacket pocket and passed it across the console. In that moment I missed Baby fiercely; she would have loved to be dropping off a hot chick with me, all sex appeal and shiny fenders and throaty purring engine.

A buzzing sound from her purse told me she'd texted herself from my phone, and she handed it back to me.

"Thank you, Dean. I had an amazing time." She ghosted a kiss onto my cheek and was gone into the chilly night, slamming the door behind her.

"Thank you." I told the back of her head as she sank into her Camry, mussed hair and disheveled clothing and all. I checked my phone. One blank text sent to an unknown number, one received text from a contact I'd named simply That Guy.

"See you around, Winchester. I'll tell your story."

I drove back up to the cabin. My phone pinged on the way.

"Home safe. Let's do it again some time."

I parked my car beside Claire's in the driveway, walked around the house, stripped down to my boxers, and walked straight into the icy lake. A galaxy of stars kept me company as I floated.

Thanks, Cas. I'll see you soon.

"Fólkvangr is a lock."

The text from Sam one morning a few weeks later shattered our comfortable routine at the cabin.

"I'll pack up the house and the kids," I texted back. "Meet you in South Dakota?"

I'd acquired an extended cab pickup truck from the same car lot where I'd gotten my nothing of a sedan, fixing it up and reinforcing the bed for just this eventuality. Claire offered to drag Cas out to it by herself, but it was obvious that that would be physically impossible.

"Don't worry, I've got this. I think." Jack closed his eyes and breathed in and out a few times. The fabric of the Universe rippled softly, rearranging itself according to his will. The walls lit up a little, but dimmed back down slowly instead of exploding. The wards held, it seemed. This would still be a safe place, if we lived to come back to it.

Jody was standing on the front porch of her weekend cabin when we pulled up, a welcoming smile wreathing her face.

"Hello, Dean! It's so good to see you again! Hi, sweetie, look at you! You look amazing, you've gotten so strong! And this…this must be Jack."

She put her hands on his shoulders, held him out to get a good long look, then pulled him in for a tight hug. It must have been a fierce one, too, going by the way his eyes went wide, and the beseeching way he was gazing at me over her shoulder. She wasn't a big woman, but there was no question that she was as feisty as they came.

"Come in, come in, I've got dinner in the oven, and I'm expecting Sam in an hour or so. Make yourselves at home."

"How's Alex doing?" I asked as we entered her cabin's cozy confines. I'd thought of our rustic place by the lake as a cabin, but with its three bedrooms and multiple floors, it was overqualified for the word. Jody's place was legit.

"Great! She loves college, she's making friends, she has a boyfriend she's sure I won't approve of, so she hasn't actually told me about him. I had him investigated anyway, but he seems perfectly normal."

I glanced over at Claire. This would normally be where she rolled her eyes and told Jody to take a chill pill, but instead she just nodded a little in agreement. I smiled to myself. Maybe I wouldn't have made such a terrible parent, after all. I could raise paranoid weirdos with the best of them, it seemed.

Speaking of parenting, Jody was fluttering around Jack. We'd put our bags in the spare room, intending to sort out who was sleeping where once Sam got there, and Jody had seated Jack on the couch and was engaging him in conversation a touch too eager to be casual.

I was reminded that Jody had had a son, long ago. Jack didn't look his age – it'd be a medical miracle for a one-year-old to be a few inches over 6 feet tall – but the age he did look was probably how old her son would have been.

Claire exchanged a knowing look with me, and we left them to it, heading out the back door to do some yoga in the yard to work out the stiffness of the long drive until Sam showed up. We'd been driving for almost a full day, with Jack tentatively taking the wheel when Claire and I wiped out.

I'd let him take a few spins up and down the deserted highway near the cabin over the past few weeks, and he started to build up the muscle memory to accompany the hours and hours on end of driving memories he'd gotten from Sam and myself. He did just fine.

"You think he'll be okay away from the lake house?" Claire asked. She wasn't looking at me, focusing straight ahead into the woods to hold her Lord of the Dance pose.

"The amulet will keep him safe until Sam gets the wards drawn here. Are you worried? You've taken him to town a hundred times, you've never been worried before."

She let her foot down behind her, straightened up, but still wouldn't look at me. She chewed her bottom lip.

"What's really botherin' you, kid?"

"I think I love him, Dean. And I know he's dangerous, and you're all going somewhere dangerous together, so there's no point in even thinking about this until you all get back. But I don't know what to do with this feeling."

She turned to me, blue eyes huge and watery in her face.

"How do you live with this? You and Castiel, you have this all sorted out. I saw you when you got back from your night out, you were happy and relaxed, you didn't look like a man who'd cheated on someone. But if Jack never wants … how do you know what's okay to do?"

"You'd have to talk to Jack about that. That isn't somethin' that someone else can decide for you. And, what the hell? Are you guys in a relationship now? When did that happen?"

She turned red and hid her face again in a forward bend. She mumbled something against her knees that sounded like it hasn't.

"Oh, hell no. I'm not havin' the same conversation with both of you."

She straightened up so quickly, I saw her stumble a little from a rush of blood to the head. "What do you mean, same-"

"Are both of you blind?" I cut her off. "You care about each other, so just sit down and talk it out. Before we go and do the dangerous thing. Just… just make sure you don't push him into something he's not comfortable with. I'd hate to have to come after you with a shotgun for breaking my kid's heart."

She refused to be diverted. "The same conversation, you said? So he's asked you about how to make a relationship with an ace work, too?"

My face felt hot, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck and soaked my collar that had nothing to do with the tree pose I was holding. "Yes," I said, a bit begrudgingly.

She lit up like a Chuck-damned Christmas tree.

"So, what's the plan?"

The wards had been traced, the sun had gone down, Jody's delicious dinner was eaten, and the kids were doing the dishes (Jody had been instantly suspicious when Claire had volunteered them both for the job, but she caught the pleased look on my face and let it go), so now we were free to sit around her table with glasses of wine and stare at Sam until he gave up everything he knew.

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, where running water and murmuring voices seemed to indicate we wouldn't be overheard, and then laid his hands flat on the table.

"First thing, we have to make the appropriate sacrifices to Freyja. We can't just rip a hole into her kingdom and stroll in, not with everything I've learned about her. I've made a few, and they've been accepted, which is what pushed me to believe she was the one in the first place, but goodwill offerings and 'may I please visit your realm of the dead and leave with my body and soul in one piece' offerings are on entirely different levels."

"What kind of offerings are we talking, here?" I asked. "Blood sacrifices?"

"She's been known to accept those when it comes to asking for magical assistance, as long as you actually use the animal you have humanely killed. She likes mead, too, for whatever you happen to be asking of her, and if you don't have any mead, she'll just accept some of whatever you happen to be drinking.

"If you're seeking a loved one, she seems to like honey, fresh fruit, chocolate, and love poetry. Don't start with the PMS jokes, Dean."

I held up my hands in surrender. That was the last thing on my mind, to be honest. This was too important for jokes.

"How'd you determine that she'd accepted your offerings?" Jody asked.

Sam flushed a little. "She… um. I offered up some of the things that you should give her in order to ask for acceptance of self, and she came to me in a dream. Told me she approved of me. When I woke up, the items were gone from the altar I'd set up in the roof of the bunker. I texted you immediately, and I've been putting together all the supplies and research we'll need ever since."

"Dude." I stared at him, impressed as hell. It was a mark of how friggin' weird our lives were, that I didn't ask Sam if he'd been on something at the time. If my brother said he'd been visited by a goddess, then he'd definitely been visited by a goddess.

He shrugged it off. "I tried to tell her about what we were planning, to ask her permission, but I wasn't actually an active participant in the dream. Just her talking to me. And she touched my face. And petted my hair."

"You do have some pretty hair, little brother," I told him. "Even goddesses think so."

"Shut up."

"Alright, children, settle down. So, now that you know where you're going, what will you do when you get there? If you get there, and Jack doesn't divert you to an extremely convincing alternate universe?"

"With her permission, we just walk through the field where her army waits until we find Cas and Gabriel, and then we ask them if they'd like to return with us. After that, we find the lady and ask her if that's okay. Hopefully, the 'true love' angle will help us out here, since she's reportedly a huge sucker for it."

"How does that help Gabriel?" Jody asked. She, too, took it for granted that Cas was my soul mate. I had to have been the last person on the entire Chuck-forsaken planet to have noticed.

"The other pagan gods called him Loki, there at the hotel on the last day we knew him, remember, Dean?" Sam said. "I think when he died and found himself in Fólkvangr, it was probably just business as usual for him. Most likely, if he found a reason to leave, he'd just have to ask Freyja's permission. In the mythology, Loki asks Freyja for favors all the time, and she usually says yes, even if she doesn't seem to like him very much."

"What are the risks?" Jody asked.

"The biggest one is that she doesn't let us leave, locks us up for trespassing or something. It's a realm of the dead, after all. Can't just have the living traipsing through whenever they want. Especially if our way in was ripped there with the power of a descendant of Chuck. They're business partners, but there's no way to tell if she actually liked him or not."

"Not to mention, all the angels we were personally involved in sending there in the first place."

Sam went silent for a minute. I thought of all the angels we'd known, both friend and foe.

"Hey, do you think Metatron will be there? I have mixed feelings about him."

"I don't," said Sam, his jaw firming. "Dude, he literally killed you."

"Yeah, but then he sacrificed himself so that we could rescue Cas from Amara. Doesn't that even the score a little?"

"No. He sacrificed himself for Lucifer, who was wearing Cas at the time. Motives and loyalties were unclear."

Jody was watching us, wide-eyed. So we didn't always tell her everything about what we did. It was for her own peace of mind. She'd worry herself to death otherwise, no matter how quiet the last year had been. We still hadn't told her about the Cosmic Consequences headed our way eventually.

"So. We get her permission to enter, we pass through a rip in the Universe made by the kid I taught to swim, then we cross a huge field of beings we've either killed personally or who died in a war we helped start, to search for two in particular. Then, if they're willing, we take them to the great hall and ask the mistress of the realm if we may, pretty please, with honey, mead, and fresh strawberries on top, all go home together. Sound about right?"

Sam nodded. "Yep. That's it, in a nutshell."

Anticipation shivered through my veins. We'd been stagnating for so long, it felt amazing to finally have something to do. "When do we start?"

We spent the next day gathering supplies and finalizing all the prep we could do on our end. I took Jack scouting through the woods until we found a nice clearing, then we painted the wards Sam had taught everyone onto the surrounding trunks until Jack could remove his amulet safely within the space they sheltered.

Sam took Claire into town with him for fresh flowers.

We built the altar when the sun went down. Sam brought a duffle bag, and we all watched him as he arranged various objects on the stones he'd set up.

First, though, he scratched a rune in it. "It's called fehu," he said, but it just looked like an italicized F to me, with the top part sticking out more than usual.

"We're invoking the love goddess aspects, so that's gold and rose," he said, laying out some lengths of ribbons, "and the warrior goddess as well," as he added white and red rose petals.

He laid out some amber-colored stones in the shapes of hearts, and some that vaguely suggested felines, then began to arrange some additional flowers as well. "Daisies, primroses, lily of the valley," he said. "I don't even trust half of the websites that listed what she liked, but the main gist was that as long as it's fresh and looks aesthetically pleasing, she'll be happy with it."

He brought out a small, admittedly attractive bowl, and poured some expensive-looking honey into it. Last of all, he pulled out a tiny bottle of Goldschlager, another of mead, a basket of exquisite strawberries, a chased silver goblet, and a bottle of a wine so expensive that its matte black label had only a few silver words on it, as if it didn't need to catch anyone's attention on the shelf in the grocery store. This was a wine that, if you weren't already looking for it, it wasn't for you.

"Dean, your ring, please?"

I felt a momentary qualm, but it was just jewelry, after all. If it helped me get back the real thing, it was a sacrifice I was happy to make. I slipped it off and handed it over, and he laid it on the altar as well.

Sam held onto the wine and stood back. "Jody, Claire, could you arrange everything so that it looks nice? Freyja loves women who know their own worth, so your touch would help a lot."

The two women gave him pleased smiles, and then went to their knees in front of the altar, holding a murmured conversation about which objects looked better beside what. They were careful not to handle the flowers or petals too much, since the oil from their skin would cause them to brown.

While they worked, Sam pulled the cork out of the bottle he was holding, letting it breathe. When they had finished, Sam took a deep breath.

"Everyone ready?" We nodded. "Claire, please light the candle I gave you earlier."

Claire pulled a lighter and a large amber beeswax taper out of the kangaroo pouch of her sweatshirt. She flicked the wheel on the lighter until the flame caught, then lit the taper and held it upright in front of her chest.

"Freyja," Sam called. "Beautiful and powerful One. We beseech thee, please hear us. We wish to visit your realm of fallen soldiers, to seek out those that we have lost, those that were taken when we, left behind, still needed them with the depths of our souls. Please offer a path, or take no offense that we find our own."

He glanced at me. I gave him a half-shrug. Whatever he needed to say to make this work, I was willing to roll with it, embarrassment about feelings-talk be damned.

"The soul of one of the living is bound to one taken to your realm too soon. Neither can be complete without the presence of the other. Please allow this human and his companions to enter your realm and search for his other half among your soldiers. If it please you at that time, please allow us to return with him safely to our own realm of Midgard. Freyja, we entreat your aid in this matter."

Sam passed me the wine, indicating that I should take a sip. I did so, letting its full-bodied flavor enchant my senses, before passing it to Jack, standing to my right. He took his own swallow, and then helped Claire juggle the candle while she took her own and handed the bottle to Jody.

Jody drank from it, staring straight at the altar she'd arranged, and seemed to be praying fiercely in silence, in her own mind, before handing it back to Sam. Sam filled the goblet where the girls had set it on the altar, and then took his own swallow, before placing the half-full bottle in front of the altar as well.

He elbowed me. I jerked as if stung, then remembered the task I'd been assigned.

I stepped forward and pulled out the lyrics I'd printed off from a song called "Blue Eyes." I sang the song once through, my voice rough but strong, on the verge of breaking but never quite doing so. When the last echoes died out in the candle-lit clearing of silent trees, I placed the sheet of lyrics on the altar and stepped back.

For a long minute, nothing happened. I was on the verge of suggesting we pack it in – after all, she'd come to Sam in a dream, maybe that's how she operated – when Jack said, "Does anyone else feel that?"

We all glanced at each other, exchanging shrugs and head-shakes. "I'm goin' with no, kid. What does it feel like?"

He squinted, focusing on something beyond what our human senses could comprehend. "Like…um. It feels like an invitation."

His arm lifted, palm facing forward, and I wasn't sure if he'd controlled the action himself or just let it happen. A golden glow started in his eyes, bled across his skin, and then coalesced in his palm. His shoulders rippled as he pushed at an invisible barrier.

I saw Claire reach a hand toward him, but Jodie held her back.

All at once, Jack let out a sigh, and the light flowed away from him to dance over the altar, spinning a few times, and then snapping into a straight line, like the soundtrack scene in Fantasia. Like the hole in the world that had swallowed our mother. But this one seemed to be beaming straight up from my ring, giving the yellow light a greenish cast.

"I'm going," said Claire into our stunned silence. "Can't deny me, the lady of the house wouldn't like it." Her voice was steady and serious, but her eyes betrayed her victorious glee.

I gaped at her, ready to protest – or beg – but Sam was already shaking his head at me. "She's right. If this is what she wants, denying her would be a really bad start to the mission."

Claire was turning to Jody. "What do you say? Field trip to the Underworld to watch my back?"

Jody was frowning. "I know all about Winchester field trips," she said. "They sometimes come back a person or two short."

Well, if that didn't punch me right in the hollow place in my gut. Ellen and Jo stepped clear of my list of dead, waved hello. Sam had gone very still.

"No offense," Jody said to both of us. "I know you guys do your best. Sometimes, shit just happens. Can you promise it won't happen to me? To Claire? You don't even know what's on the other side of that portal, or where, exactly, it goes. If we die there, do we still go to Heaven? Or is it too far away?"

Jack's quiet voice shocked us all. "Jody, we don't have answers to those questions. You know that. All we know is that we have to try. We'd never ask anyone along if they weren't willing to try with us."

I'd been about to say much the same thing, but it sounded much better coming from him.

Claire looked at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You're okay with me going with you?"

"I'd rather you stay somewhere safe, but if you did, you wouldn't be you," he told her with a huge grin.

"Listen to you," sighed Jody. "I knew I shouldn't have left you in Dean's clutches this long."

We stared at the glowing fissure a beat more. "If it closes up, can you get us home again?" she asked.

Jack nodded. "There's a … a thin spot here, now. There's one at the cabin where I was born, as well. Like, when you hold up a piece of cloth to the light and you can sort of see where the wear spots are? It'd take very little energy to punch through it again, and I can feel exactly where it is."

"And you won't need an anchor in this universe? Something to focus on, to punch your way back?"

He shook his head. "This universe is my home. I know what flavor it is."

"Then let's friggin' do this," Jody said. She stepped over the altar and disappeared in a flash of light.

We emerged, blinking, under the bluest Chuck-damned sky I had seen in my entire life, and I'd driven across the entirety of the Great Plains states. Multiple times.

Once we'd all checked on each other, to make sure that no one had been left behind, we took stock of our surroundings. We were at the very bottom of a field so large, it curved over the horizon in three directions. To our backs, the portal danced and snapped among gray, gnarled, lichen-covered tree trunks that made the great sequoias look like saplings.

As we watched, the portal wavered, fizzled, and sealed itself up. We all looked at Jack, but he shook his head. That hadn't been his doing.

"Probably for the best," I said, shrugging away the unease I felt. It had taken a ritual, and a death, to close the last one, and while Crowley had never been a friend to us, he had been an occasional ally, and a pretty good companion for Demon-Dean to howl at the moon with. Oh, well. Realm of the dead, that sort of energy should be in ready supply.

"Yeah, I guess leaving an unguarded portal to Earth while we wander away wasn't the best idea, anyway," added Sam.

"Jack," said Claire. "This place will be full of angels. Do you need to put your amulet back on, to be safe?"

He shook his head. "I get the feeling she wouldn't welcome the deception of it. We'll just have to make do."

He's here. The throbbing void at my core ached, tugging at me. "Alright, let's go."

We picked the direction straight way from the trees and set off through the shin-high grass under the tiny but fierce sun. The air was full of birdsong, and the grass rustled as small creatures went about their business. For a realm of the dead, it seemed pretty lively.

I hadn't realized how accustomed I'd become to the weight of the ring on my finger; I felt vaguely naked without it.

A brisk breeze tugged at our clothes as we walked, but I didn't feel cold. "Jack, anything on Angel Radio?"

"Absolutely nothing. Either it doesn't work the same way here, or I'm scaring them silent."

"Maybe we can work with that," I said, as an orderly camp appeared up ahead. It looked like what a military camp would look like, if soldiers had no need to eat, sleep, crap, or visit the camp ladies. No tents, no mess hall, no latrines, just a picket line of horses and twenty or so figures standing or sitting on hay bales, playing cards or dice, whittling, doing whatever sentient creatures did to pass the time.

That is, until they saw us approaching. Then, they flowed into orderly lines like water and stood at attention, males and females and androgynes of peak physical strength and beauty. It was easy to tell that they had not been human in some time. We halted in front of them, confused as to what authority they were respecting. When our silence stretched, their eyes began to shift uncomfortably. Eventually, one of them stepped forward and addressed Jody.

"What are your orders, my lady?"

"Oh!" She blinked a few times. "Um. At ease."

The rank of angels relaxed just a hair.

"You," said Jody to the one who'd addressed us. "What is your name?"

"Sariel, my lady."

"Sariel, my companions and I are new to this realm. Can you direct us to the Great Lady's hall? And may we borrow your horses?"

"Of course, my lady." Sariel's eyes kept darting toward Jack. "My lady, may I ask where you acquired this creature? In our other life, he would have been considered-"

"You may not," Jody snapped. "This creature is none of your concern, and has my full faith. He will harm none here, unless any here offer harm to my person."

Sariel bowed his head, chastened. "My lady must be powerful indeed, to have one such as this as a sworn protector."

Jack tried to look serious and strong, though he came off looking a bit constipated instead. I figured it was all the same to angels, anyway, and gave him an encouraging nod for the effort.

"Yes, yes. Horses, if you can?"

Sariel waved a few of his ranks toward the pickets, where they separated a horse for each of us and led them back by the reins. There were no saddles.

Trying to seem like this wasn't a big deal, like we rode bareback every day, we each accepted the reins as they were handed over. Claire looked thrilled to pieces, while Sam looked less than enthusiastic. The horses were large, even-tempered creatures, ranging from roan to dappled gray.

Sariel, swinging atop a large black stallion, said, "I will show you the way to the Hall, lady. Please follow me?"

Jack copied Sariel's easy swing upward and was soon seated comfortably atop his beast, but the rest of us stayed flat on the ground, unsure how to continue this charade without looking like complete asses.

Jody gave us all a flat look, and thought fast. "My companions and I are too long away from the fields, and have forgotten the ways of them. Can you assist us in mounting?"

Chuck bless the angels for their lack of critical thinking, because that was some thin-ass logic.

"Of course, lady."

Each of us was scooped up and deposited on our mounts, where we scrambled to get our legs situated and a death-grip on the reins. I, for one, had only been horseback riding once in my life, and it had been when an angel had sent me back in time to before there were cars. I loved Baby like my own child, and I sometimes suspected she could think for herself, but it was nothing like being on top of a warm, moving, mountain of flesh that could decide to kill me on a whim.

That reminded me, Zachariah was probably here somewhere, too. I hoped we'd run into him; I'd like to punch that smug bastard in the nose, if given the opportunity, and maybe give him a Nelson-style haw haw while I was at it.

"Follow me, please," said Sariel, and he kicked his mount into motion. We all followed, with varying degrees of success. At least no one fell off.

I had one of those "is this my life?" moments, riding a bay horse across the field of the Host under a sun that was only mythically related to my own, past hordes of angels, some of whom recognized us, judging by the way one jaw out of every hundred fell completely to the ground. The gathered host were extremely well-disciplined, so the gaping maws really stood out.

Jack rode like a centaur, achieving a oneness with his mount that I could never hope to aspire to. Jody rode like a cowboy, born to the saddle (or lack thereof), and I realized she'd probably been doing this since she was small. Claire rode like a teenaged girl, grinning so hard her face was in danger of splitting in half and staying on her horse's back through sheer force of will.

Sam and I were much more grim and pedestrian about it. It was faster than walking, I'd give them that, but give me my Baby and a nice smooth road any day.

We seemed to be heading toward a small wooden structure a little way off. Turns out, it was more than just a little way off, and not small after all, because we kept riding toward it, and it kept growing. I was just wondering just how big the damn thing really was, when I heard someone calling my name.

"Dean! Dean, is that you? Sam! Dean!"

I'd grown complacent on the horse as it moved forward in one direction and at one speed, so the thought of telling it to stop was a bit daunting, but I yanked on the reins like they do in the movies. Jack and Sam, riding behind me, parted like the Red Sea as my obedient horse came to an abrupt stop.

I scanned the orderly ranks until I spotted a flash of auburn hair, and an excited smile that was wise beyond its years. "Anna?"

I climbed off my horse, which seemed content to crop at the grass until Ragnarok, and ran to her, grabbing her up and spinning her around while she laughed like a mountain stream.

I felt the eyes of hundreds of disapproving angels on us, but no one said a damn thing. Jody was watching us with a small grin on her face, and she held a mysterious power here which none of them were willing to question.

Anna took charge of the situation immediately. "Sariel, thank you. I'll take them from here, and I'll see to it that your horses are returned to you, once the Lady knows what a service you have provided for her guests."

Sariel took the dismissal as it was intended, bowed at the waist while still mounted, bowed again to Jody, then wheeled around and galloped back the way we'd come.

Anna climbed onto my horse, then lifted me up behind her with superhuman strength. "So, do I rate an introduction?"

"Guys, this is Anna," I told the stunned group. "We met her when she was a human on the run from the psych ward, helped her get her grace back, and then sold her out. Then she killed an angel for us, was mostly likely tortured in Heaven for a bit, then went back in time to kill Sam as a kid, but he got resurrected so everything's okay, I guess? That about sum it up?"

She gave me a grin over her shoulder. "What a life you lead, Winchester. Did you want to put in the bit where we had sex in the back seat of your car the day before the end of the world, or did you leave that out on purpose?"

Since everyone was too busy gaping at us to respond, I smiled back at her. "One of the high points of my life, that was. I've had several apocalypses since then, but have banged no more angels. Anyway, you remember Sam, of course?"

Sam tilted his head at her in acknowledgement, and she gave him a seated bow. "I deeply apologize, Sam Winchester. I had lost my faith in my father – an affliction which grows more common every day – but I also lost faith in you, which is a mistake I should never have made."

He shook his head. "No harm done, after all. Apocalypse averted."

"And this is Sheriff Jody Mills of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and Claire Novak, women of worth who have decided we aren't the lost causes we seem."

Jody and Claire gave her slightly manic grins and small waves, but Anna caught on to the important part of that sentence and her face went suddenly blank. "Novak? As in, James Novak?"

Claire nudged her horse closer. We'd drawn into a circle, to better shut the rest of the angels out of our conversation, but Claire looked about ready to jump off and grab at Anna. "My father. What of it? He's in Heaven, nowhere near here, wherever here actually is."

"James Novak's soul resides in Heaven, yes, but his semblance-"

She broke off and twisted to look at me, her face lit up like a joyous forest fire. "You're here for Castiel!"

I nodded as emphatically as I knew how, and she looked on the verge of singing a Hallelujah. "This is the best news I've heard in millennia! Oh, I can't wait, he's-"

She broke off, bit her lip.

"What, Anna? He's what?"

"Never mind, you'll see. I'll take you there myself. First, though, who is this, please?"

She reached a hand out to Jack, even though he was too far away to be touched, and sort of stroked his aura, if I had to describe what it looked like from the outside. He looked startled but unhurt.

"You," she murmured. "You feel like he did. Like Lucifer."

"My father? Did you know him?"

"Your father! Well, well. We all knew him, everyone on these plains. He was our older brother, once. I'm one of the few who mimicked his actions, though it was for my own reasons, so I feel as if I knew him better, somehow, though I doubt he knew me at all. He shone like the sun."

Her voice had gone all dreamy, and even though impatience itched under my skin like an anthill, I couldn't take this from Jack. No one else, except maybe Chuck himself, was ever going to say anything nice about Lucifer. Ever.

"Is it safe for Jack here?" Claire asked, bringing Anna back from whatever eons-old memory she was reliving. "Do any of these guys hold grudges that they'd take out on him, just for existing?"

"There's none of that allowed here," Anna replied, shaking her head. "Our Lady demands an orderly Host. No dissension in the ranks. Of course, we have the remainder of eternity to work out our differences. Uriel and I will never be the comrades we were again, not since I stabbed him in the throat and all, but we're dead now, so what's the point of staying mad?

"He's not in my garrison, for exactly that reason, but we've drilled together in the past. It's very difficult to stay mad when faced with the prospect of infinity together. I'm not sure how your father manages it. Jack, she said?"

Jack shrugged. He probably did know, with Lucifer's grace-memories packed in his head, but it couldn't be a pleasant prospect to face.

"And would any of these evolved, non-grudge-bearing angels be as forgiving of a few humans as well?" asked Sam. "I can think of several that we sent here personally who might not be as happy to see us as you are."

She quirked her lips at him. "Don't worry about them. Your average angel is much happier when given orders and told to stay put. Killing them, taking them away from a reality where they had to think for themselves, to question, was the nicest thing you could have done for them. Here, it's just like the old days for them, before humans were even a spark in our Father's brain."

Nudged the horse into motion again, she led us off at a slow walk. "Even better, really," she continued over her shoulder. "Every angel believed that when they died, their grace would dissipate into the ether and become nothing. To know that our Father had a plan for us all along, and to get right back with his program, is a blessing and a gift for those who had found themselves faced with the ugly prospect of losing faith at last."

"And you? And any like you? Who think for themselves and question?" said Jack.

"Our lady gives us special status. Leadership roles. To be honest, I think the Host's attitude baffles her at times. She's so full of life and wit and curiosity! To see my brothers and sisters perfectly content to stand in one place forever kind of weirds her out. When she made the deal with Father, I don't even think she really believed him, but here we are, a slice of forever later, and she's got the largest and most powerful army there is, waiting on her front lawn and willing to wait there for another slice, until orders are given to do otherwise."

"So," said Sam, making a stab at being casual. "What about the archangels who've made it this far? Raphael? Gabriel?"

Real smooth, bro.

"Raphael took up a watch position over where the serpent Jörmungandr sleeps, so that he will be the first to know when our final battle arrives. He's barely moved since he got here. I've never seen him happier."

She paused, and Sam's face went all pained with the struggle not to hurry her along. It was very hard not to laugh at him, but I managed.

"Gabriel, though. You don't have to worry about that one. Having the time of his life- that is, you know what I mean. If I still thought that sort of thing mattered, I'd call it blasphemous, the way he fits in as this pantheon's Trickster."

Sam's shoulders eased. "Good. We thought that might be the case. I'm glad he's happy."

"Aw, Samsquatch, I didn't know you cared."

Sam just about fell off of his horse.

A man with golden eyes had appeared, lounging on Sam's horse's rear quarters, a small lollipop poking out of his mouth. I felt my mouth stretch into a grin, thrilled to see him despite the fact that every new distraction was keeping me from my goal that much longer.

"Gabe! Hey!"

"Dean-o! How's it hanging?"

"Left of center, at the moment. Never riding a horse again, if I can help it."

"I don't blame you for a second. I miss Earth's technology almost as much as I miss their many and varied methods of producing things that rot human teeth. What's new, guys? What brings you all to my neck of the woods? And heeeeey, why does this one feel like You-Know-Who?"

Anna was smiling, I was smiling, Sam was positively beaming, but Jack and the girls still looked confused, and were starting to look concerned as well. Jack, especially – his father's memory of murdering the man before us probably stood out a bit.

Gabriel, as usual, didn't need any help carrying the conversation. "Oh, All-Father, do you mean to tell me that the Morning Star got biz-ay? He must have had that stick up his ass surgically removed first, I bet it would have gotten in the way otherwise."

"Guys, this is the Archangel Gabriel," Sam told the other members of our questing party. "In case that wasn't immediately obvious."

He turned back to the slight man now sitting cross-legged across his horse's withers, easily keeping his seat despite their no-doubt jouncing movements. "And we," he gestured at the rest of us, "came by to see if you'd care to be rescued."

Gabriel's curiously mobile face went still. "Is that… is that a thing you can do?"

"We're here to try, at least. If that's what you want. If you're content here, then no harm done and we'll see you at Ragnarok, which we will no doubt kick off at some point because hey, we're Winchesters and that's more or less what we do."

Gabriel threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Oh holy crap, I had forgotten what fun you Winchesters were! But you wouldn't have gotten an invitation to enter the realm unless she-"

He broke off, made an elaborate show of thinking hard for a minute, then pointed at me. "Are you here to make an honest man of my little brother Cassie at last? For real this time, not just that lame, lost-grace, poor-me crap you kept putting him through?"

"Bet your ass," I told him. "Just point me in the right direction, and I'll spend whatever small slice of eternity we have left making it up to him. If that's what he wants, of course. I know you angels aren't big on choices here, but we're Team Free Will after all. If he's content, then I'm just here to say goodbye."

Gabriel frowned, and did the aura-stroking thing at me. "By Great Odin's crow-ridden Beard, Dean, you're like half a person in there!"

I shrugged. I was aware. It was old news. "You curse in Norse pantheon terms now?"

Gabriel grinned gleefully. "Hanging with the old crowd has been tons of fun. It's like I never left. So, I can tell that this is James Novak's daughter, nice to meet you and all, but who is this exquisite creature?"

Between one blink and the next, he was now perched in front of Jody, in a position to have been mightily inconvenienced by a saddle horn, had one been present.

Jody, to her credit, drew herself up and looked unfazed. I could have told her there was no point in resisting. Gabriel wore everyone down in the end, through sheer force of personality. "Sheriff Jody Mills, Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

"Ooooh, a lawwoman! My favorite! Do you have any handcuffs?"

The rest of us stifled snickers as Jody's face flickered between outrage and amusement. "I'd say, not right now, but I get the feeling you'd take it as an invitation to come visit me later."

"And you'd be correct!"

This was fascinating and all, but I'd had enough. "Alright, kids, can we all flirt later? My Chuck-damned soulmate has been dead for an entire year, and I'm kind of looking forward to seeing him again. Anna, you said something about leading us to him?"

There was a pause. "Chuck?" said Gabriel in a tiny voice, completely derailed from his previous fixation.

"Oh, yeah, man. You have missed a lot since you've been dead."

We caught both of them up as we got closer to the great hall, which was actually starting to look stadium-sized at this point. We continued to shock a small number of individuals in the host we passed through, but no more tried to approach us.

"Hey, was that Balthazar?" Sam said, nodding at a tall blonde creature who was hurriedly turning his back on us and melting away into the ranks.

I looked after the retreating figure. "Probably. I wouldn't wanna talk to us either, if I was him."

We started veering to the right, heading around the enormous wooden structure's intricately carved walls, and I thought back on exactly how we had fucked Balthazar over. Or rather, Cas had.

"Anna, I know you said you all are big on the 'not holdin' grudges' thing, but Cas… he's done a lot of things that most of the rest of the angels were … not in favor of."

"Everyone hated his guts, you mean?" she said, giving me a look over her shoulder.

I shrugged uncomfortably. He'd done it for me, most of it, even when I hadn't been too much in favor of it myself.

"Yeah, that's still true. For most of them, those wounds are still fresh. He hasn't been forgiven yet. No garrison would have him."

"So, where is he?" I wanted to scream it, but I clenched my teeth and forced myself to be patient.

"He lives in isolation, like a hermit, and runs small errands for our Lady. She feels terrible for him. She can sense what he's sacrificed to make the choices he's made. Given enough time, he will integrate – like I said, hard to stay mad for eternity – but for now, he's alone. And, I suspect, half-mad for it."

I felt a curious blend of horror and relief at this news. It was awful for someone with his life experience to be forced to live alone, after a lifetime spent in lockstep with his brothers in arms, but that meant he wasn't content here, wasn't at peace, wouldn't want to stay.

Doesn't mean he'll want to go with you, either, said the voice of my low self esteem. Haven't you done enough?

Shut it, you, I told the voice. I'd come all this way, I had to at least try. How much more could rejection hurt me, after a year with this never-healing wound gaping in my middle?

"I am proud of him, you know," she said. "When I died, he was just starting to question. He's come so far since then, farther than anyone else could. I know he can thank you for that."

"Let's not discount my influence as well," Gabriel sang, from his position pressed up against Sam's back, arms wrapped around his waist. "I've been teaching that boy to love humans since his wings grew in. Not my fault it took one human in particular for my lessons to sink in."

A sort of glade with a lake was coming into view as we rounded the great structure at last.

"We're going to have to go in and say hi to the Lady of the house. You guys know that, right?" Gabriel asked.

"That was always the plan," said Sam, who was doing his best impression of an uncomfortable statue, interfering with his already mediocre riding skills. "It'd be rude not to, after she was kind enough to invite us in."

"But she invited us for a reason, and going to see her first might imply that that reason isn't as important as we've made it out to be," I said. My hands rested lightly on Anna's sides, and our horses were going the same speed, so I knew damn well that Gabe had no need to be holding my brother quite so tightly.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at me. "Sure, sure. It's respect for her intentions, not the call of your missing piece. Anyway, how come you guys didn't invoke me? I let my own brother kill me so that you all could live to fight another day, and I haven't earned comrade status?"

Jack flinched. Claire reached over and squeezed his hand, but Gabriel ignored them both, waiting for an answer.

"Honestly, we just figured out this place existed for certain, like, two days ago in real-world time," said Sam over his shoulder. "Prior to that, we had no idea where angels went, if they went anywhere at all. But finding both of you was always part of the plan."

"The rest of the plan being, we all get a second shot at our big brother, with our nephew for backup, and a goatee-verse hellscape as set dressing?" When we caught him up on current events, he'd been miffed that he'd missed out on so much, but at least he'd stopped sulking.

"If that's what you want, yes. We're going to go anyway, and you're welcome to join us, but no one else has to come."

"Bullshit," said Gabriel, suddenly serious. "That's the thing about you Winchesters and the world. Either we die trying to kill you, or we live long enough to die for you voluntarily."

"Hey, now," Jody chided. "I gave them that lecture before we walked through the portal on the way here. No need to put them through it again."

"Besides," added Claire. "They've both died, too. Plenty of times."

"Taco Tuesday doesn't count," Gabriel pouted. "Those weren't real."

"Felt real to me. Every single damn time," said Sam.

"I'm sorry," said Gabe, lowering his cheek to press into Sam's back and seeming to tighten his grip even further. "Needed to get my point across. Like Anna said, I lost faith in the Winchesters. Won't happen again."

I had a thought. "Gabe, do you know who's in charge of the Reaper franchise these days?"

He straightened. "What, since you've managed to kill the last several? Has to be some kind of record, that."

"Well, they're not too happy with us. They've promised us the Big Empty, instead of Heaven or Hell, and they've thrown in Cosmic Consequences, with capital letters, since Cas ganked the last one to offer us a deal. That one wasn't even our fault!"

"Not go to Heaven? The Winchesters? I've never heard anything so ridiculous! Y'all definitely get peace when you lay your weary heads to rest. Thus it is written. I'll put in a good word for you with the department head. I can be very convincing."

Sam slumped backward against him in relief. "Thank you, Gabe. That would be much appreciated."

A small wooden structure had appeared on the other side of the hall, at the shore of the lake. If Jody's house qualified as a 'cabin,' I would term this one a 'hut.' As we approached, we could see that it was well-maintained, but probably didn't consist of more than one room.

I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I'd been wandering without a compass for so long now, and my lodestone was in that hut. I could feel it, could feel him, like a string tied around the third rib down on my left side tugging me forward.

Everyone else could tell as well, just by looking at me, and the horses all slowed to a halt about thirty yards from the tiny building. Anna helped me dismount.

"Can I get a minute, before you all come tromping in?"

They all looked at each other, humans, angels, nephilim, and then looked back at me with the same air of vague disgust painting all their faces. "Gross, Dean, like we'd want to see that," said Claire, putting it into words for all of them.

"I think what she means is, you two should have your privacy," said Jack, putting it into different words. "Give us a yell if you need us, we'll be right out here."

Everyone else nodded in agreement, sliding off their horses and massaging the smalls of their backs with small groaning noises. Gabriel made sure to personally assist both Sam and Jody off their mounts. He wasn't that much taller than her, but he made every inch count.

Jack helped Claire from hers, and let his hands linger longer than he would have dared when they were training together at the lake house. Good for them.

My turn.

I spun on my heel and strode toward the hut, my heart in my mouth. A voice I knew drifted out to me, as rough and gravelly as it was in my memories, apparently talking to someone else. The wood of the door felt splintery and rough under my knuckles as I knocked.

No acknowledgement. There wasn't even a hitch in the voice's flow. Then I picked my own name out of the stream of words, so I leaned on the wood slab with my shoulder, trying to hear better. It wasn't even latched, swinging open silently on hardened leather hinges, revealing the room inside.

Living alone, and half-mad for it, Anna had said. He sat on the floor in the middle of the room, facing the hut's only window, which overlooked the lake. I studied his profile as he rambled on in Enochian to himself. His hair was wild and tousled, longer than I had ever seen it, even when he'd been human.

Despite that, he was still mostly clean-shaven, a faint shadow peppering his jawline, unlike the hobo scraggle he'd managed as a homeless human when I'd kicked him out of the bunker to protect the traitor angel I'd invited into my brother.

My name came into the stream of foreign syllables again, clogging the clear stream of sound like debris in a storm drain. I swung the door shut behind me, took the two steps it took to cross the room, then knelt on the floor at his side.

"Cas."

Blue eyes turned in my direction, and the flow of words halted. "Hello, Dean." A soft smile, one I hadn't earned, pulled up his lips. The sound of that phrase – in his voice – yanked at the thread tied to my rib hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"Why do you weep?"

This wasn't quite what I'd expected. "It's been a while since I've heard your voice, man. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

Those chapped lips pulled into a frown, and confusion filled his azure eyes. "But we speak every day, do we not?"

What? "Cas, you've been gone for almost a year. I came to find you, to make sure you were happy wherever you went when you left us."

"Left you? Dean, you are not making any sense. I have not-"

I'd reached out a hand to the velvet sandpaper of his cheek, wanting to feel the solid reality of him beneath my fingers, but the second I got my wish, his face changed, like he'd been struck by lightning, and he stood up and backed away as much as the room would allow, pressing a shaking hand to his face where my fingers had been.

"What are you? Are you here to torment me?"

"What? No! It's me, Dean. I'm here to… well, rescue you, I guess."

He was shaking his head. "No, you cannot be him. I see him every day, the lady allows me that, but there is nothing to touch. He is not really here. You, you are solid. So you are of this realm."

He drew himself up, the trembling ceasing and the fear leaving his face as suddenly as it had come. A whisper of his terrible strength sparked within his eyes. Something huge and invisible – two somethings, I guess – unfurled behind him, brushing along the walls and ceiling. "Be wary if you mean to toy with me. I may be an outcast, but I am far from powerless."

Oh, for Chuck's sake. I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what would it take to convince you that I'm actually Dean Winchester, here to save the day like I am hopelessly inclined to do at every opportunity?"

A corner of his mouth quirked up before he caught himself, forcing it back to seriousness. "I left the real Dean Winchester with a mission: to take care of a precious burden. Possibly the most important mission he has ever had."

"Yeah, yeah. Jack's outside with Sam and the rest of our family. How do you think we got here?"

Cas's mouth hung open a bit, and his body swayed toward me the slightest bit, but he shook himself and pulled back. "Dean Winchester would never come for me. He cares so little for himself, he would think he did not deserve it."

I flinched. "Well, you're not wrong, but I'm choosin' to be selfish, just this once. Because you deserve it. At least, you deserve the choice of it."

I saw him mouth the word choice to himself. "You are offering me a choice?"

"Team Free Will, baby," I said, making an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. "It's kind of our deal, after all."

He still hesitated, and the space between us ached like all the broken bones he'd ever healed for me, all at once.

"Look, just…" I held out my hand. "Just feel my soul, alright? It's the same one you pieced back together molecule by molecule before you gripped me tight and raised me from perdition. After that, if you disagree, I'll walk right back out that door and you never have to see me again."

And still he didn't move, eyes like chips of ice in his impenetrable mask of a face. Another piece of my heart, so hopeful only seconds before, cracked off and fell into the void. I dropped my hand and turned on my heel in preparation to walk back out the door, knowing that if I left this place and he wasn't with me, there wouldn't even remain the half a man Gabe had noticed.

"Wait," came his voice from behind me, halting me in my tracks. "I will perform this test you suggest. I do not believe that Dean Winchester's soul can be mimicked. It is the single most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed."

I bowed my head and stayed where I was, letting a few tears escape down my cheeks where he couldn't see them. A cautious hand was placed on my back, fingers cupping over the groove of my spine, and a golden glow flowed through me. I could taste it on my tongue, like ozone but warmer, softer.

It touched off an echo deep down inside me, resonating like a church bell.

The fingers on my back clenched into a fist in my shirt, then let go and dropped away. "It is truly you," he said, voice barely audible. "Why have you come?"

Now we were getting somewhere. I spun back around, ready to grab him and cradle him to my chest, but his posture was closed off and his face was blank as new paper.

"Cas, I came for you. Like I said, to offer you a choice. To ask your lady if you can come back to Earth with us, if that's what you want." I paused, but if I was ever going to just fucking say it, it needed to be now. "To come back to Earth with me, in particular."

His eyes flickered up to mine, catching me in one of our staring contests, the ones that Sam used to mock us for. Except this time, it was like drowning in their ocean depths, because if I fucked this up, this was going to be the last time I'd ever see them like this, and it was killing me.

"I died, Dean Winchester. I used every power I had in your service, I gave you everything, including the end of my term in the reality you call Earth. I have nothing left to give you. What more do you want from me?"

A shitty children's book, one of the ones Sam had brought home near the beginning of his literacy campaign, flitted through my head. Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. If it hadn't been a library book, I would have burned it. Selfish bastard, taking and taking from his friend, never giving anything back, and the poor tree letting herself be used, her friend's happiness becoming hers even when it was hurting her. When had I allowed that to become my reality?

"There's you, Cas. That's all I want. I don't want your powers, I don't care if you have angel mojo or not. I want you to come back with me, to be with me. I was too emotionally retarded, too defensive about needing anyone, to realize what you were. I hurt you, over and over, and I never… I never told you how much I appreciated you just for being there, being who you were.

"This last year, I've had Jack, and a pretty normal life, as our lives go, and any other person would have been happy. But there's no happiness for me out there, not any more, not if you're not there. And you're well within your rights to tell me I don't deserve happiness – Hell, I know I don't deserve it – but ever since you came to us, you've pinned your happiness to mine, and you deserve happiness more than anyone I've ever met.

"Now, if you think you can find that happiness here, even if it takes some time for your brothers to come around, then I meant what I said. I will walk out that door, and Jack will take us all back to Earth, and I will never hurt you again.

"Or, you can come with me to petition your lady, and if she approves, we can go home together as a family. And more, if that's what you want."

His crystal eyes had been cold and blank for most of my little speech, arms crossed hard across his chest, but his tight posture loosed just the slightest at my last sentence. "What do you mean by more?"

Don't fuck this up, Dean. You won't get another shot.

"I…" SAY IT. "I love you, and not just how I love Sam. You're-"

I had to pause to take in a single hitching breath – actually saying the word out loud had pulled a cork inside me somewhere. "You're my entire friggin' world. I want to share my life with you, like, cheesy romance movie-style. I want to watch sunsets with you, and wake up to your face every morning.

"I want to make you happier than you've even been in your entire existence. I want to wrap myself around you until you fill in this fucking hole you left in me when your Chuck-damned brother sent you away.

"But this isn't about what I want. Up until now, it always has been, but after everything you've been through, after everything you've sacrificed, you deserve the choice. It's-" I shrugged. "It's the only thing I know how to do for you."

My shoulders slumped, spent. I'd laid it all out for him, said what I'd come here to say, and now he had to choose, and I had to live with his decision.

"Dean." He paused, and I saw his throat work as he swallowed. "You know I am not… human. I cannot be what a human companion would be. I cannot ask you to-"

I threw my arms up. "Do you think I give a shit about that? I want you. You will know your own worth, even if I have to go shake the doors of Heaven for it."

His voice was rough, rougher than usual, like he'd been gargling glass. "This choice, I cannot- I do not-"

One shaking hand clutched at the shirt over his chest. "I thought I was trapped here for an eternity, with a family that had turned on me. Never to see you again. Hell, instead of the Heaven our Father intended it to be. And that pain was the worst I had ever felt.

"And then you come, really you, not the simulacrum our lady allows me. And you ask me to pick my sword back up and rejoin the fight that is the reality of Earth, after finally being allowed to lay it down and rest. And you are a simulacrum of yourself, your soul burdened by grief. You are one more battle I would have to fight if I should choose to return. That thought, too, is painful.

"But the thought of you walking away, leaving me to my own fate. That-"

He stopped, closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath. "That is a pain I am unable to face."

His eyes opened again, huge in his drawn face, spearing me through the chest.

"So…?"

"I know what must follow, but I choose to go with you."

There was an explosion in the pit of my stomach. He looked more resigned than ecstatic about his choice, but he was giving me a chance. A chance was all I needed. "May I… may I hug you?"

He gave me a confused head tilt. Fuck, I had missed those. It drove me over the edge, and I covered the space between us at a run and yanked him in to my chest.

He fit in my arms like he belonged there, and I was prepared to spend the rest of my life proving to him that he did. I had one arm around his back, fingers brushing through unseen feathers, and the other hand cupping the nape of his neck beneath his too-long hair, pressing him close, trying to pretend I wasn't shaking, wasn't savoring the most bittersweet ache of homecoming I'd ever felt.

Because he was right, this probably wasn't going to be easy. I had just taken on the biggest job of my life. Bigger than protecting humanity and saving the world, more important than making sure Jack didn't take after his father: Cas's happiness. But in all my years as a Hunter, this was a thing worth fighting for.

Slowly, hesitantly, he slid his own arms around my back in return. When I didn't let go and pull back, didn't clap him on the shoulder and tell him he was like a brother to me, his grip tightened, hands bunching in my shirt. I couldn't breathe from the pressure of his angelic strength, but I'd be damned if I was going to tell him to stop, especially not when I felt wet spots bloom on my shirt where his face was pressed.

We stood there in his hut of isolation, squeezing each other until black spots began to dance in my vision due to lack of oxygen. Then Sam shouldered through the door, shouted, "Thank Chuck for that!" and threw himself at us both.

"Dude," I gasped as his long arms nearly lifted us off of the ground, Cas's grip loosening in surprise. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"Sorry, couldn't help it," said Jack as he and the rest of our party filed in. "Comes with the empathic powers. I told them that it felt like you had patched things up, and he just ran off."

Sam let us go and backed off a step, shrugging apologetically. "They kept making yikes faces as they listened in, I was getting worried you would choose not to come home with us."

Cas, still encircled by my arm (mostly because I refused to let him go), said, "They?"

"Hello, Castiel. It is a pleasure to see you looking well again."

"Hey, Cassie. How's the hermit life treating you?"

"Anna. Gabriel. You-" He cut himself off, glanced over the rest of the group now filling the too-small room. "Claire," he breathed.

She gave him a teary smile. "Hi, Castiel. I made them bring me along. I wanted to see you, to tell you I was doing okay."

He stepped away from me, and I let him go, already missing his solid presence pressed to my side. He placed his hands on Claire's shoulders, looking her over in much the same way that Jody had when she'd met Jack. He pulled her in for the same fierce hug, too, but Claire hugged back just as fiercely.

"You are looking well," he rumbled into her hair.

She stepped back, wiping her eyes, and beamed at him. "I've been working hard, trying to be better. Dean's been a big help."

He exchanged a parental glance with Jody, who nodded, smiling.

"My turn?" said Jack, stepping forward.

Cas blinked at him, then frowned. "You are Kelly's child? Dean said I had only been gone a year."

Jack stuck his hand out. Cas looked at it, recognized the human gesture, and then put his own in it. Something passed between them – in both directions – and Cas's eyes showed understanding.

"Did you just give him your memories?" I asked, squinting at them both.

Jack shrugged, letting Cas's hand go. "It seemed the most efficient way to bring him up to speed." He held Cas's gaze. "Thank you for believing in me."

Cas looked around at all of us assembled in his living room. "I thought my family had turned against me."

"We're the family you get to choose," said Sam, unable to stop grinning. "It's really good to see you, Cas."

His eyes landed on me again. There was a sort of dazed smile in them, and I vowed to myself he would wear that look as often as possible. "So, Cas. Are you ready to go petition your lady?"

He nodded, and we all turned toward the door of the hut. And then, the hut dissolved around us and we were all standing in a vast hall in front of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, sitting on a carved wooden throne behind a feast table.

Her red-gold hair spilled down her back in flowing waves, and her eyes were the green of summer grass. When she smiled at us, it warmed me down to my toes.

I threw a sidelong glance at my brother. "Dude, are we supposed to bow? Kneel?"

He gave me a frantic shrug in return, so I settled for bowing just my head. I figured that, as a goddess and the mistress of this realm, she would let me know if I'd gotten it wrong.

Her laugh flowed past us like a waterfall. "Respect from the Winchesters? Today must be my lucky day."

A spike of alarm ran up my back, but she waved it off. In one graceful movement, she picked a strawberry off the small pile in front of her and dipped it into a bowl of honey that looked suspiciously like the one we'd set out on our altar for her.

"You have every right to be suspicious of me, if you judge me by the standards of the other gods you have encountered. However, this place belongs to me, and you are my guests. I would not harm you, especially not after accepting such a wonderful and thoughtful offering. You have no idea how difficult it is to get good strawberries here."

She put the fruit onto her tongue, and her eyes slid closed in pleasure as she bit down with slightly sharp white teeth. Her ecstasy-filled face tugged at my memory, reminding me of something, but I didn't have time to pin it down, because her eyes had reopened, and she was going on.

"However, many of my charges here have told me of you, and your actions in Midgard are much discussed among the Aesir. Loki is a particular bore about you."

From his position at Sam's shoulder, Gabriel gave an unconcerned shrug. Sam had mentioned that Loki wasn't a particular favorite of Freyja's, but that she was usually willing to listen to him when the cause was just.

"I was moved by your pleas, just as I was moved by Loki's when he and Anna, my captain, requested that Castiel be given particular favor. They seemed to imply that after close association with the Winchesters, it would be difficult for him to reintegrate."

She tapped a pale, elegant finger on her ruby lips, and gave me a wicked smirk. "After associating with the one called Dean Winchester myself, I would be inclined to agree."

Her image flickered to a semblance of Angela the barmaid, and my mouth dropped open. Not even Sam's hiss of "Dude, come on," his verbal version of the disapproving eyeroll, or Gabriel's loud hooting laughter could bring me back. Holy fuck. We'd only been allowed in here on the basis of my love for Cas; had I messed that all up for one night of casual sex?

"Relax, Dean, I'm a goddess of fertility as well as love, remember?" She held up her other hand, and pulled my ring off her thumb, holding it up so that it caught the light. "Besides, I know what it is, to require carnal fulfillment when your love is away."

She shot Gabriel a pointed look, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement, still grinning. I recalled a story that Sam had told us, of how Loki had tried to get all the other gods to shame her for having sex with someone else while her husband was out of the area, and how the other gods had shamed Loki instead, telling him it wasn't a big deal, and none of his business anyway.

"The only hitch was, did Castiel feel the same way about you? I needed to hear him say it. He had requested the sight of you to keep him company in isolation, but it could well have been because he knew he'd never see you again. I needed to know how he would react, and how you would accept his reaction, when confronted with reality."

I stood frozen before her, ready to accept her judgment, but I jumped a little when a cold hand slipped into mine, fingers interlacing. Cas stood at my side, shoulders back, head high, eyes blazing. It was awe-inspiring.

"I thank you for your boons to ease my suffering while I dwelled in your realm, my lady. I would beg a final one: that I be able to return to Midgard with Dean Winchester and the rest of my family."

I felt so fucking proud of him, I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

"The rest of your family, Castiel? To what extent? Would you rob me of my armies, promised to me by your father himself? Or just my generals, the ones who, like Anna here, have associated with the Winchesters to the extent that they have changed their essential natures?"

Anna had been standing toward the back of the group, hoping to go unnoticed, but that was never going to have worked. She stepped forward now. "I do not ask to leave, my lady. I am content to wait here with you until the final battle."

Freyja nodded at her, pleased. "And you, Loki? Do you wish to return to Midgard? You are no part of my Host, whatever your father may have promised me."

Gabriel's face warred with itself, his flippant nature battling with his need to take this seriously. "I would like the option to visit Midgard when I am called, my lady." His serious side lost a small skirmish despite winning the war, and he added, "Or if I get bored."

Freyja's eyes danced with mirth. "Acceptable. You trouble me the most when boredom takes you. Let the children of Midgard deal with your childish pranks."

"Hey, I got you out of marrying that Frost Giant, didn't I? Didn't seem to think I was being childish then."

"You put Thor in a dress! It never should have worked! I still don't know how you both pulled it off!"

I squeezed Cas's fingers as they continued to bicker with the good-natured fondness of long acquaintance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his lips turn upward. He squeezed back.

"Anyway," Freyja said, dismissing a smirking Gabriel and turning back to us. From the look on his face, he seemed to think he'd won that exchange. "As to the rest of your family, Castiel?"

"Just these present, thank you. I do not believe the others of the Host would feel it a boon the way I would, to be returned to the life they were leading."

"These present," she said, tapping her fingers on the arm of her throne. "What an interesting family you have chosen for yourself. These two women of worth, for example. The younger, you have wronged, but made reparations to, and she seems to have more than forgiven you. The older, however, you have hardly met?"

Castiel looked over at Jody, suddenly concerned. Jody gave him a reassuring smile, then addressed herself to the goddess. "I'm here to watch over his family until he gets back. I haven't known him for long, it's true, but the stamp he left on the people who love him is impossible to ignore."

"Your prayers were particularly fervent, over the altar at the entrance," Freyja said.

"I have known Dean Winchester for many years," Jody replied. "I have seen him during good times, and during bad times, and during the worst possible times there ever could be. But I have never seen a hole in him the way I did when Castiel was taken. He is a good man, and even though I don't know Castiel that well, I am more than certain he is a good man as well, angel or not. If two good men who have given so much can't have happiness in this world, then there's no justice and no reason to keep fighting."

Freyja smiled. "And you, child of two worlds? What is the reason for your presence? The way I see it, you have never actually met Castiel before."

Jack twitched at being addressed directly, but recovered. "My lady, that's not quite right. Castiel's grace shaped me from the inside, allowed me to be open to what is good and moral and right despite my parentage. In a way, he's been with me since before I was born. I have relied on his quiet presence in my soul on many occasions."

Claire stepped up beside him, gripping his hand. He gave her a smile that he shared with the rest of us before turning back to Freyja. "He has opened many doors for me, doors which would have been closed and locked against me if he had not supported my mother and believed in me as he did. If he had allowed my father to have me, I would not be anything like the person I am today."

"Your father," said the lady, drumming her fingers on the armrest again. "He was a vexing topic for your grandfather when we were arranging our contract. There was always the inevitability of his arrival here on the moment of his death, and your grandfather was concerned for my safety, that Lucifer would try to overthrow me. It was sweet, really."

I exchanged a wide-eyed look with my brother. All that time spent trying to kill Lucifer, and he would have just ended up in this Angel Utopia.

"He would have tried," Freyja emphasized, in a voice of steel. "Please, remember, this is my realm."

She didn't elaborate, but she didn't need to.

She re-addressed herself to the angel at my side. "Castiel, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want? You did bring up some valid concerns during your conversation with Dean Winchester."

Castiel gave a firm nod. "Dean may have hurt me in the past, but he has never disappointed me. I do not believe he will do so now."

Freyja nodded, and then was standing before us, with no time spent rising or moving around the table. Handy trick, that.

"Then it is only left to hand out blessings." She placed hands on Claire and Jody's foreheads. "Claire Novak, Jody Mills, may you both be prosperous and powerful in your world of Men. May you know your own power, and never let anyone take it from you."

She moved along to Jack, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Child of two worlds, may you know yourself, and accomplish your goals. You have a worthy heart. May you defend it from corruption."

Next, she stepped to me. "Dean Winchester." She stopped, giving me a smile like warm honey before reaching up to my face and bringing it down for a kiss. A fairly involved one, too, not the ceremonial peck I was expecting. She tasted like strawberries and sunlight and life itself. She pulled away and gave me another smile.

"We'll talk soon," she said. "I believe this is yours." And she held my ring up. In a daze, I held up my left hand, and she slipped it back onto my finger. The sapphire caught the light streaming into the hall through openings in the wooden roof, flaring blue. Castiel's eyes sharpened, but there was no time to talk about it now.

"Angel Castiel," she said, moving on. "May you find your happiness. In all the times you have visited my realm in the past, it has been your father who has released you, and erased your memory of it. This will be the first time you bring it away with you. May you find peace, even if Midgard itself is full of war."

He bowed his head, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze before moving on.

"Sam Winchester," she said, cupping my brother's cheek. "May you find peace for the war within yourself. You are a good man, and your good deeds outweigh the circumstances behind the losses of your mother and Jessica Moore. May you one day allow yourself to follow your heart and live the life you desire."

She ran long fingers through his hair. "And someday, may you tell me the secret of your wondrous tresses."

Sam's mouth fell open in shock, but she was laughing and moving on to the last person in line, as Anna had moved away to stand beside the throne.

"Loki, little brother of my heart," she said, taking his hand in hers. "We have had our disagreements in the past, but it is a new Age, and Midgard blazes us a strange path. May you find yourself some humans to keep you settled, to give balance to your wild nature. You may not be of the same creation as the Aesir and Vanir, but you are family here all the same. Keep in touch. Send strawberries."

Gabriel looked awed and humbled. I'd never seen his face take on that shape before; it was fascinating.

And then Jack was glowing, looking confused, and his hand was rising, and then a harpstring of light appeared before the high table.

"Castiel, if you ever change your mind, or if you are ever taken from Midgard during the natural turmoil that is life there, you are always welcome here. I will see you again some day, but not, I hope, for some time hence."

We emerged, blinking, in the clearing, with Claire's candle burning very low on the now-empty altar.

Jack slipped the cord of his amulet back around his neck.

Sam checked his watch. "We've been gone about ten hours, apparently."

"Fantastic," said Claire. "I'm starving. Jody, have you got enough leftovers for everyone?"

We made a detour and stopped by my truck in the yard. Everyone else stood back a little while I carefully removed the concealing tarp.

Cas gazed down at its precious cargo. "You did all this, knowing I would return?"

"Hoping, Cas. We hoped. It was all I had left."

He turned to look at me. "Did it not occur to you to just… let me go? You have lost people before."

"Never you," I told him. "You always come back. We just had to be a little… proactive this time."

He stroked the sparkling surface, and it dissolved beneath his fingers. He yanked his hand back in alarm, but Jack called out a "sorry, design flaw" from the background, and he seemed reassured.

"Go ahead, Cas. It's yours." I watched him stare at his former vessel. "I'm guessin' your lady equipped you and Gabriel to walk the earth as you are now, but if you feel more comfortable in somethin' more solid…?"

He nodded, closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, took a deep breath, and dissolved into a swirling column of light. The light spun upward, and then curved, narrowed, and entered the mouth of the vacant body in the truck bed.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. I exchanged worried glances with the rest of the group, but then a loud rasping inhale came from the body, and he sat up, coughing. I held out my hand to him, and he took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Warmth spread through my entire body, melting the harsh edges of my pet void.

It wasn't going to disappear overnight, but a start had been made.

After the humans cleaned out Jody's fridge, the whole group split up. There were some discussions that needed to be had, in order to move forward. Claire volunteered herself and Jack for dishes again, and Gabriel claimed the living room for himself and Sam and Jody – Chuck knows what they were going to talk about – so Cas and I took a walk.

I felt strangely shy as we set off eastward into the woods, lit by eerie pre-dawn twilight. We hopped fallen trees and forged through overgrown brush, not speaking, but letting our hands brush whenever the path narrowed, casual enough to seem accidental.

He kept looking up when there was a break in the trees above us. It was probably nice to see our stars again.

Eventually, we reached a bluff overlooking a plain. We sat side by side on a moss-covered log, legs pressed together. I felt the tension in his frame, as he waited for me to make some awkward excuse and move away, but I was long past that crap.

"Anything you want to talk about, now's the time, angel," I told him. "If you want to walk away, it's still an option."

"There is the Dean I am familiar with," he responded, lips quirking upward. "Did I leave your self esteem behind when I raised you from Hell?"

I shrugged. "I've been a really terrible friend in the past. We both know it. I'm just glad you're willing to give me a chance to make it up to you."

"Dean," he sighed. Fuck, I would never get tired of the sound of my name on that tongue. "There is nothing to make up. This is a new beginning, a chance to start again. We have both made mistakes, both hurt each other. Can we agree to what you humans call a clean slate?"

I wanted to hold onto the guilt, to castigate myself with it, so that I'd never forget how low I could sink, but he grabbed my face and turned it so that we could lock eyes. "I mean it. If we are to make this work, whatever this turns out to be, there can be no blame given or accepted for past deeds."

He grinned then, and starlight sparkled in his clear eyes. "Not even fornicating with goddesses, even though you wear a promise ring."

"I- She- You- Oh, come on!" I spluttered. His laughter was as rough as an unused cat purr.

He picked up my left hand, so the ring caught the starlight as well. "Do you mean this, Dean? Truly mean it? I did not lie in my hut, I cannot promise all that a human companion can in terms of sexual relations, and I know that means a great deal to you."

"And like I said, I don't give a shit. As long as I have you to wake up to, and as long as you understand that I do have needs, that I will explicitly discuss with you prior to any action on my part, I have everything I could ever want in this world. I realize that you won't be inclined, by nature, to participate, and I won't hold it against you. I will never force you into anything that you aren't comfortable with."

He dropped his gaze to his lap for a minute, and then gave me a sideways glance through long eyelashes. "And if I was inclined to participate?"

My mind went blank, with a sort of roaring white noise in the background. "What?"

"You are a heterosexual human being, Dean, you have never made a secret of that fact. If I were to express the desire to kiss you now, inhabiting a human male as a vessel, how would you react?"

Fire raced through my veins, and I held his gaze like my life depended on it. I wasn't entirely certain that it didn't. "You'd better be fucking serious right now."

His face went all confused and adorable. "I am always serious."

"And I wouldn't change you for all the burgers in Texas."

And I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in, sliding my other arm around him and pulling him close. Our mouths slotted into each other like puzzle pieces. His lips were a little unsure, a little clumsy beneath mine, but it felt like Heaven to me. One of his arms was circling my back, and one was clenched in my shirt as we drank each other in, my heart pounding so hard I was certain he could feel it against his knuckles.

I ran my tongue over the seam of his mouth, asking for permission, and his lips parted, allowing me entrance. I pressed him closer, plundering him with my tongue, tasting cinnamon and something tart, like limes, before finally withdrawing, panting a bit, and pressing my forehead into his. He'd ended up in my lap, somehow, knees pressed into the log on either side of my hips, and his denser-than-human weight was more comforting than any safety blanket.

He seemed to be panting a little as well, and I took pride in the fact that I'd made a being who didn't need to breath, breathless.

"Was that okay, angel?" I asked him.

His eyes, less than an inch from mine, flipped open, and I thought I was going to melt from the heat in them.

"Give yourself some credit, Dean. You know damn well that it was."

I felt my own eyes go wide. I'd made an angel blaspheme. Holy shit.

"For my own reference, are you referring to me by my species, or as what you humans call a pet name?"

"It's a pet name, angel. Besides, different species can't interbreed, and you seem to be presenting evidence to the contrary."

I waggled my eyebrows at him, and got a startled look in return, but with him in my lap, I couldn't miss the effect I'd had on him. It was pressed right up against the effect he'd had on me.

After a second to process, his lips quirked up again. "Another boon from my lady, it appears. I seem to have been given the gift of empathy. We should take advantage of it, I am not certain how long it will last."

"Challenge accepted," I told him, and dove back in for seconds, thirds, and fourths, as the sun rose over the plain and painted everything rosy and gold.

We hit our first fight just a few hours later, at breakfast, in front of everyone.

"Cas, no. You shouldn't have to come with us. That's not why I wanted you back, not for this. He literally killed you last time you faced him, remember?"

Gabriel raised an insouciant hand in the air, waggling his fingers. "Hello? Same boat, here?"

I snapped my head around to shout at him, too, but he had a valid point. I felt my shoulders deflate, and I turned back to Cas, whose eyes were now glowing with fury.

"I did not choose to return with you so that you could keep me in a box, Dean Winchester. You promised to show me my value? I will not learn it by being wrapped in tissue paper! If you are mounting a rescue mission for Mary, then I will be on it, or I do swear by my father, when you return, I will not be here!"

Everyone else's heads bounced back and forth as if they were being entertained by a particularly fascinating tennis match.

Panic burned in my gut. "Cas, I just got you back! I can't lose you again."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "The chance of losing me in a battle for a worthy cause, or the certainty of losing me if you leave me out. This time, the choice is yours."

We locked eyes, and I put all of my pleading and despair into my gaze, and he put all of his completely justified anger and frustration into his.

The connection we'd made at sunrise, the one that had continued when I'd woken up with him tucked into my arms, solid and warm, still resonated in my soul. He was right, of course. I bowed my head, looking away first.

Of course he'd join us when we went to get Mom back. I just felt like shit, asking it of him, when he could have been sitting in a peaceful cabin by a lake, not bothered about Lucifer ever again, and he'd chosen this instead, because of me.

I felt a hand on my chin, pressing upward until my eyes met his again. The anger was gone, leaving only a warm glow and a small smile. "Stop blaming yourself for my choices, Dean. Even you cannot be so arrogant."

I felt one corner of my mouth quirk up. "I can try."

He leaned in and connected our mouths for a brief moment, and suddenly our argument didn't seem so important. We pulled apart at a squee noise coming from Claire, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Sorry," she said, making spasmodic hand gestures. "I'm just so happy for you guys."

"Her 'ship' came in," Jack added, helpfully. "It's a big deal for fangirls."

"Shut up," she said, slapping at him and turning a particularly fetching shade of red.

The tension in the kitchen broke, and everyone laughed in relief over their bowls of cereal, though I held onto a little niggle of concern. I was going to take my other half on another Winchester field trip, back into the lion's den.

Prior to the argument, we'd decided to give ourselves another day for rest and recovery before the expedition to the Mirrorverse. Gabriel and Cas headed back to the warded clearing, to test each other's limits, to make sure their powers still functioned as expected.

Sam and I tagged along, promising to stay out of the way. Sam said it was because he wanted to see what they were capable of, but I was pathetic enough to admit to myself that I didn't want to let Cas out of my sight just yet.

When they were standing in the gap among the silent trees, on either side of the bare stone altar, Gabriel said, "Well, let's whip 'em out."

Sam made a choking sound, causing Gabe's grin to hitch higher, before the clearing was filled with feathers. Gabriel had two sets of wings, with feathers grading from forest green to pure gold, glinting in the light that trickled into the glade as he flexed them.

Cas's wings were…

"Dean, are you okay?"

Sam's voice shook me out of whatever trance had taken hold, and I was surprised to find that tears had leaked from my eyes. Cas's wings had been sad, broken things for a long, long time. To see them like this, full and glorious, deep iridescent blue and amethyst and alive, was almost more than I could bear.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine." I wiped my face on the sleeve of my flannel.

Luckily, the two angels in the clearing hadn't noticed my momentary distress. "Show me what you got, little bro," Gabe said, hefting his archangel blade. Cas grinned at him in anticipation, letting his own shorter blade slide into his hand. Did they keep them in a pocket dimension or something? I'd never asked.

Then two angels were gone, replaced by whirling lights that darted around the glade, striking sparks from each other when they met. The sparks danced for a good twenty minutes, sometimes halting to show Cas at bay on the ground with Gabriel's blade pointed at his throat, sometimes showing Cas holding Gabriel up against a tree with his forearm against his windpipe, blade pressed to his chest, but something always tipped the balance, and they were off again.

Eventually, the dancing lights resolved into two figures flat on their backs beside each other, feathers tangled together, chests rising and falling rapidly while the sound of angelic laughter rang through the clearing like joyous thunder.

After a few minutes, Gabriel popped up and shouted, "Ice cream!"

I exchanged confused glances with my brother, but a cry of "c'mon, Samwich" interrupted us, and then both Gabriel and my brother were gone in a flutter of wings and an abortive wha- that could only have come from Sam.

This left me alone in a sunlit glade with my angel. An angel who was now propping himself up on his elbows and looking at me with smoldering eyes, and I felt like prey. "Dean. Come here."

My feet moved of their own accord before my brain got with the program, and I was kneeling beside him in seconds. "What?"

Well, I started to say the word, but I'd barely gotten my mouth open when my back hit the ground, pinned with heavy hands on my shoulders and chapped lips devouring mine.

So, life-affirming horniness after battle wasn't just a human thing. Good to know. I made a note of the fact, and then shut off the thinking part of my brain for a while.

"I could not hear you," he murmured later, curled against my bare chest. The sun threw warm shadows through his mussed hair, giving him a hazy halo, and I could feel his wings curled around us both, invisible but cozy.

I had been smoothing a hand up and down his back, caressing the area where his wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, wringing little purring noises from him, but now I paused and made a vague interrogatory noise.

"In my lady's realm. For the first time, I could not hear you when you prayed. The part of me that senses you went blank, as if it was you who had died, not me. It very nearly broke me."

I realized that he'd curled up this way on purpose, skin to skin, one hand draped possessively across my torso, with his ear pressed to my chest, listening to my heart beat.

"I knew Father would not bring me back, not this time, not after I had disappointed him so badly. I did not hope for rescue – not even we angels knew where we went when we died, how could I expect humans to? So instead I prayed to you. I prayed to Dean Winchester, that he find happiness and be at peace, and successful in the final task that I had dumped into his lap before abandoning him.

"At my lowest points, I left off the last part, about guiding the nephilim so that he did not destroy the world. I figured, the world could fall into the Pit, as long as Dean Winchester was happy. Does that make me a terrible creature?"

I ran gentle fingers through his tousled hair, wishing I could see his face. "You were dead, Cas. I think, at that point, it's okay to stop feelin' responsible for the world."

I felt his mouth curve upward where his cheek was pressed into my skin. "I had no way of knowing if you heard me, but I found it a great comfort anyway."

He wiggled around a bit, until his chin was balanced on my sternum. I found the twinkle in his eyes instantly suspicious.

"I know now you must have heard me, or else, why would you have had intercourse with my lady while she was wearing earthly guise, when promised to me?"

I thought about being embarrassed for a split second, but I'd done it, and it still didn't feel wrong to me, so damned if wasn't going to own it. I gave him back my most innocent grin. "Oh, the three of us had a grand time that night."

He sat up a bit, eyes going wide. "Three?"

"Yeah, picked up a sexy wayfarer from south of the border. He and I worshipped the ever-livin' heck out of your lady."

Cas's eyebrows climbed higher, and he pushed himself up by bracing a hand on my ribcage. "He?"

I bent an arm, stuck a hand behind my neck, and dialed my grin up to the laziest, sultriest one in my vast repertoire. "Just an innocent vampire who was seekin' a touch of company, to fend off the loneliness."

Most people's voices go high and squeaky with incredulity. Hilariously, Cas's seemed to go deeper and more gravelly, so his croak of, "Vampire?!" came out sounding like Christian Bale's Batman interrogating Scarecrow, and I collapsed in helpless laughter.

"You… you are serious?"

I took a few deep breaths to calm down, then opened my arm to welcome him back in. He laid back down willingly enough, but he looked amazed as he pressed his cheek back into my chest, this time facing me.

"But, Dean… that does not sound like you at all."

I shrugged my shoulder into the leaf mould, then held my hand straight above us so that my ring caught the light. "I'd been alone for so long, with this gaping hole where you used to be. I wasn't even looking for anything that night besides a room full of other people and a good burger. The rest of it just sort of… happened. I thought about it, about all of it, and I figured, who am I to judge a person by his teeth, or by his gender, or by his past? We have to play the hand we're dealt.

"I mean, look at you. You're a pillar of light the size of the Chrysler Building, why should the fact that your meat suit has a dick define anything about you?

"Besides, I got a strange sort of feeling that you approved. Javier said he could tell, too."

Cas's eyebrows went up again. "His name was Javier?"

I nodded, letting my hand drop heavily to my side, now that the blood had drained out of it. "I'm going to have to find his previous nest and exterminate them, eventually, but that's a problem for another day."

He nodded, easing his cheekbone into a groove in my ribs, and I picked back up where we'd left off, stroking the base of his wings until he practically melted, and I wanted time to stop there, to freeze us into amber like Jurassic mosquitoes, so that tomorrow would never come.

Jody made dinner for the humans that night, while the angels pulled Jack aside to discuss abilities and how to use them.

At least, that was what Cas told me when he left my side for the first time since we'd come back through the portal. I pouted at him, but he smiled at me and ran a hand through the hair at my temple while pressing a kiss to my cheek, and while I was busy trying not to turn into a goofily grinning puddle of goo, he slipped away and the door closed behind them.

I turned back to the kitchen to face an array of varying degrees of smirk.

"Dude," said Sam. "You're so whipped."

My macho self-image raged a bit and rattled the cage where I'd locked him away, but that asshole's reign was over. Instead, I just shrugged a "yeah, so?" at my brother.

His smirk turned into a full-on smile. "Good. It suits both of you." And he turned away to help Jody serve, like he hadn't just said some of the most affirming shit I'd heard all day.

Even though I'd been eating home-cooked meals for almost a year now, and presumably Sam had as well, we still had to restrain ourselves from stuffing our faces like savages.

"Mmm, Jody, this is delicious," I told her, actually managing to swallow first this time. Sam had a tendency to kick me under the table if he disapproved of my manners, and that bastard was wearing his steel-toed boots. "You are a goddess."

I paused before my next bite, reminded of something. "Is that why everyone was deferential to you in Freyja's realm? Could they tell?"

Claire rolled her eyes at me, but I was rewarded with the faintest dusting of a blush over Jody's cheekbones. It was barely there, and gone in an instant, but damn, I was chalking that one up on my list of greatest achievements in life.

She made a stop it, you gesture with the hand holding a biscuit. "Actually, Gabriel did try to explain it the night we got back. Apparently, the angels could tell that my family – my first family – was in Heaven already, waiting for me, and that I had chosen to go on living my life, and started a new family for myself, unconventional as it might be. I have a sort of glow, apparently."

"They respect the heck out of that glow, he says," added Sam. "The losing-then-choosing. Something about their father's plan."

Jody shrugged. "Then he threw in something about all short-haired people in Norse mythology being either whores or slaves, so I was lucky I hadn't run into any actual denizens of the realm. Kind of hard to keep up with, conversation-wise, that one."

"He grows on you," said Sam.

"Like mold," I added.

"Ouch, Dean, I'm wounded," said Gabriel, suddenly lounging against the counter, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest.

I glanced at the still-closed door, but he shrugged, and leaned forward to pull a chicken wing off of Sam's plate. "They had more stuff to talk about, but I got bored."

Claire and I exchanged curious looks. It felt weird being in the same boat as a teenage girl, but here we were, our asexual boyfriends closeted with each other, probably talking about us and how to deal with human sexuality. I could only hope that Freyja's gift had given Cas some insight that could help Jack.

I'd miss it when it was gone, but Cas would always be so much more than just physically attractive to me. The fact that he was currently even interested in sex at all was just a huge bonus.

"Ugh, you're being boring, too," Gabe said, pointing his chicken bone at me. "Stop it. We're going to an alternate dimension to fight my jerk brother tomorrow, can we not think about something besides our own sappy human feelings?"

"Speaking of humans," said Sam. "Dean, do you remember that time we got sent to a world where our lives were just a TV show, and we were the actors who played us?"

I gave a delicate shudder, but Gabriel looked intrigued.

"I didn't put it together at the time, but that must have been an alternate universe, too, just like the one where Mom is stuck. How did Balthazar get the kind of juice it took to send us there?"

"He had that stockpile, maybe something in it gave him a boost to nephilim levels? Man, that place was awful."

Gabriel was practically vibrating. "Tell me everything!"

We called it an early night, once Cas and Jack had rejoined us. We pulled something stupid up on Netflix, and those of us that could sleep, or chose to, slept, and angels watched over us.

We were gathering our gear for the jump, early the next morning, when I caught Cas looking at me with his curious head tilt. If we both lived past today, I would spend the rest of my life telling him exactly how friggin' adorable he was when he did it, but for now, it meant he had a question to ask, and time was growing short.

"What is it, angel?"

"You no longer consume alcohol with the same ferocity you had been exhibiting when I died. A year ago, you would have packed at least one flask in with your gear and had another on your person somewhere."

It wasn't a question, really, but I answered it anyway. "Correct. Thanks for that, by the way. Just one more way you managed to save me in spite of myself."

He looked blank. "I repaired your liver damage, yes, and altered your chemical receptors, but I do not believe I assisted any further in altering your habits."

I gave him blank right back. "You mean, you didn't… release me?"

He shook his head. I felt sort of shaky and clammy, all of a sudden, and put a hand on a nearby table to steady myself.

"Dean? Are you alright?"

I took a few deep breaths, fighting back the wave of dizziness, and a deep peace spread through me. I could have gone off the deep end, I could have ended up like my dad, but I hadn't. I'd made a choice, and I'd saved myself this time.

"Yeah," I told my angel. "I think I am, actually."

He slid his arms around me, and I dissolved into him. The novelty of this feeling, of being allowed to hold him like this, was still making me kind of giddy, and my heart did some flip-flops in my chest.

"Oi, lovebirds! Get a move on!" called Gabriel from the back door, and we both jumped, but I held on an extra second, just to make a point.

The angels had agreed that we shouldn't be poking more holes in the Universe than was absolutely necessary, so we were going to portal back to the lake house from the altar clearing, and head to the Mirrorverse from the weak spot there.

"It will be fine, Dean," Cas assured me, when we'd shouldered our gear bags and joined the rest of the group. "A simple extraction mission."

"From a desolate Hellscape where you'll be shot on sight, which your brother is probably King of by now," I muttered.

"You call me the second you get back," Claire was saying to Jack, smoothing her hands up and down his arms, tugging at his shirt, trying to get her fill of touching him before we left her behind. She and Jody had opted out of this particular field trip, mostly at our pleading insistence.

"Of course," he said, trapping one of her wandering hands in his own and holding it to his chest. "You'll be the first to know."

"Can't we at least wait at the lake house for you? Why are we stuck out here in South Dakota?"

"Claire, we talked about this," Jody put in. "Just in case anything goes wrong, we shouldn't be anywhere near the other end of that portal."

"I'd be happier if you guys were in Kansas, in our warded bunker, actually," said Sam, but Jody was shaking her head.

"No reception down there, right? And if the end is coming, I want to be able to watch it. I bet it's better than any sunset I've ever seen."

I gave Jody an impulsive hug. "You're a real badass, Sheriff Mills. We'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"You'd damn well better," she said, hugging me back.

It set off a wave, as everyone tried to hug the girls at the same time, and I think Gabriel took advantage of the confusion, because when we all stepped apart, Jody was bright red and seemed a bit flustered. Sam gave him a chiding glare, but he shrugged it off.

And then Jack pulled the Universe apart, and we all stepped through together.

I'd checked the security before we headed back, and everything showed up green. When we stepped through, if Cas had been a human, I would have crushed his hand from how tight I was gripping it; last time he'd stepped through a portal to this spot, he'd fucking died.

This time, though, Jack sealed the portal back up with no sign of the Father of Lies stabbing anyone in the heart, whether it be Cas, literally, or me, figuratively.

Gabriel let out a whistle through his teeth. "Nice digs," he said, checking out the house in its pristine setting. "Whose property were you squatting on, and where did you hide the body?"

I smirked at him. "In plain sight in a diamond casket on the guest bed, all year long."

Gabriel turned to eye his little brother suspiciously. "Where did you get the cash for a place like this, Cassie?"

Cas looked uncomfortable, but was saved from having to answer when Sam noticed that Jack was still staring at the space where the portal had been hanging.

"What's up?"

Jack glanced around at us, then sighed. "I know being able to poke a hole in the fabric of the universe is a neat power and all, but sometimes I really wish I'd gotten wings instead."

The four of us 'uncles' held a quick but silent vote, and Sam easily won for 'most empathetic.' Between me and the angels, we were far more likely to say exactly the wrong thing, so it was Sam who got to go over and put an avuncular hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I know, flying sounds like a sweet deal, but look at it this way. If you didn't have the ability to send your father somewhere very far away, and to make sure he stayed there, then everyone you know would most definitely be dead. And, instead of being Castiel's child with Lucifer's voice in the back of his head, you'd be Lucifer's, and you wouldn't even be able to hear Cas at all."

Jack's lips curved into a grin. "Castiel's child. Yes, that's pretty accurate. Thanks, Sam."

"Hang onto that thought, Jack," Gabe spoke up. "Lucifer has a silver tongue. He lies even sweeter than I do, and I talked my way into someone else's pantheon for millennia."

Determination hardened Jack's young face. "Are we ready to do this?"

"Wait, please!"

We all spun around as if stung. There was a small group of people standing at the edge of the tree line. My phone slept against my hip, unaware of any intrusions, which could only mean one thing: angels. Sneaky bastards.

I had to let go of Cas's hand so that we could all take on defensive poses, but he and Gabriel seemed more interested in not meeting anyone's eyes, not being recognized, than in anything else. Luckily, the angels under the trees seemed to have eyes only for Jack.

"You are the nephilim, yes?" said one, who seemed to have nominated himself as spokesperson.

When Jack gave a wary nod, the angel stepped a little away from the trees, holding his arms out in a show of peace. "I am Zuphlas. We have talked long with the soul called Kelly Kline, and held many discussions among ourselves. We know the way to true peace lies through you."

Jack shot me a quick grin. "Told you I had a fan club."

Zuphlas's brow crinkled in confusion, but soon smoothed itself out. "We believe you have the power to re-open the Gates, sealed with a grace stolen by treachery, and the blood of one like yourself. Will you help us?"

Cas went still – well, even more still – beside me, and I wanted to squeeze his hand or offer some other comforting gesture but there was too much risk of drawing attention to him.

Jack very carefully did not look at us. "That sounds like a very worthy cause. Can I put it next on my to-do list? I'm already slated to save one world today, I can do yours after."

The other angels murmured in consternation, but Zuphlas lit up with understanding. "You go to do battle with Lucifer." His companions went silent immediately, and turned huge frightened eyes on him.

"Got it in one, Zuphlas. Any of you want to come with?"

Shit, now they were all looking at me. When was I going to learn to keep my big mouth shut?

"No more guests on this field trip, I'm afraid," Jack interrupted as Zuphlas was opening his mouth to respond. "We're just going to pop over, deal with your big brother, and we'll be back before you know it. Feel free to wait, or come back later."

He held up a hand, and the mutterings of protest from his fan club died away as he started to glow. The portal reappeared, hanging in the same space as the one he'd punched from South Dakota. Jack swore that the different universes had different flavors, but all I could see was a gold line where there shouldn't be one, something subtly wrong with the natural laws.

"Catch you guys on the flip side," I told the awed group, then seized Cas's hand again, and we stepped through into the Mirrorverse.