In the Lethe Series 2

by teaandchess

Three years have past after the events of In the Lethe, when Castiel made his choice to save a demon and the Winchesters made theirs to save one other. All that Dean, Sam and Castiel have fought for to save friends, lovers and family has started to fall apart. Old enemies begin to stalk those that they love and so it comes down to a choice. It will always come down to a choice.

1. Nameless (When Angels Return)

In the Lethe Series 2

Part 1: Nameless (When Angels Return)

She was dying.

It came to her slowly. A dangerous and painful thought that had started to nibble away at her, but she knew it for what it was. Truth. This had gone on too long for there to be any other choice. Now she just wondered it when it would ever come. How it would come. If she would feel the knife or if death would arrive slowly if they forgot her here, in this tiny cell.

There might be no escape, but she knew that there was something was different tonight. The air was still arid, stifling and so closed in within the tiny mud room that every breath took too long to inhale, too quick to exhale. That hadn't changed. Only now she felt the pressure of the tiny room pushing on her, trapping her. Caging her.

Drowning in heat. She was drowning under the heat and the suffocation.

Moaning, she let her head sag back to where her arms were tied over her head. Her shoulders had dislocated hours before and the pain of it was a dull throb now. With her breasts exposed and her skin battered ugly shades of purple and green, tiny sharp cuts causing rivulets of blood still to ooze from her, she knew that she was nothing like what she had been. Fine robes gone, thin to the point of starvation, her rings torn from her. Gifts from men she was forced to swallow as punishment for being what they had made her. Thrown to the dogs by the very people who once called her friend. Left to wait. Left to die if they didn't come back.

All this because of faith.

Or because of her lack of faith.

Why worship at something she couldn't see? Couldn't touch? Why worship a being who would watch her rape and torture at the hands of his holiest of men, who could do so much and yet did nothing according to his worships? No faith could absolve the sickening touch of hands on her body or the agony of long hours of the branding.

No faith was worth that.

Nearly choking on the chewed bit of her tongue left, she moaned and let her head sag forward. Ropey strands, crusted and darkened by the blood, hung before her bloodied eyes. Obscured the floor and the leather used to bind her feet though they could barely reach the floor anyway. Even the dark skin of her feet were stained by blood.

She was so tired…

A soft humming sound, like the breeze after a sandstorm, woke her again and struggle to open her eyes further. Bare feet, remarkably clean on the dirt floor, could just be seen through her matted hair and she lifted her chin shakily. Just a little, just enough that the strain in her neck caused her vision to blur. The ropes cut into her hands when she tried to pull herself up to look.

"Beautiful. Only one other could truly appreciate the sheer artistry of what has been done to you." The voice was male, low and so different than any other she had heard. He spoke her language but the accent was heavier. She struggled to focus, to truly see, and a pale man with short cropped hair the colour of fire, grinned back at her. Nothing of it made sense, from his thick leather armour to the centurion helmet tucked under his arm. Kentarch… she'd only met one or two before.

"Just lovely. I was told you were here but I didn't expect to see you in such a state." He reached out and touched a gaping wound in her arm that still wept pus and blood. Unable to find the strength scream, she simply moaned and let her head fall forward. He sat before her on the tiny stool and popped his soaked fingers in his mouth, tasting the fluid. He eyed her like he might a bug he was going to squash before grinning at her. "You're nothing but a child. Really. Very young."

"Who…" Her head lolled as she eyed him. Too weak to fight, too weak to question. He looked almost like the man who had betrayed her. His blue eyes flickered to a sudden, sickening yellow. The sight caused a scream to finally rise in her throat and she opened her mouth. His hand, cold and wet, slapped over her and pinched the chapped lips together.

"Shh, beautiful girl. I'm the monster your kind calls upon when sins of the past, when what you are, catches up with you. When you need a chance to break free. Normally another would take my place when your life is at such a crossroads but you…" He stroked her mouth with his thumb. "You might be worth far more attention. Such sweet tragedy in those strange eyes of yours. I have always longed for a second in command worthy of my teaching."

What poetry was in his words was lost on her as those yellow eyes swirled with impossible light. His hands dug into her face as he cupped her thin cheeks and pressed a little, until her jaw bone fractured a little and she could only moan in pain.

"You…" He stroked her ropey hair and leaned forward, still whispering seductive, intelligent words. "I can give you a bargain you will never expect. The same another would offer you but I found you first. My price is perhaps… a little different."

Her eyelids drooped low as he ran his hands over her head like a comforting father. Or a man about to slice the throat of a dying animal to give it mercy.

"Vengeance. Wouldn't it taste sweet? Revenge on the men that would kill you for not falling in line with them. Ten summers of freedom to do what you will to them and become what you could have been." His hands stroked her face. "Then, when ten summers pass…"

His head ducked and his mouth ghosted over hers. "You are mine. My pupil if you pass through the Pit intact. Mine and you will love me. You will obey me. There is so much to do before He returns to us."

"Why?" she managed, the coolness of his hands in contrast to the heat of the room causing a heady sensation to pool in her body.

"Because of what I see in you. No one else could even imagine it." His mouth was close. "Do we have a bargain?"

Her mind clung to what it knew. She had fallen into this trap because of her lack of faith, because of love.

She wanted their deaths.

When she nodded, he laughed and those yellow eyes swam within her vision.

"You have to say it."

"Yes."

"Good girl." He crushed his mouth against hers and she tasted sulphur and blood in his mouth. As he made the simple almost perfunctory kiss more furious, she whimpered and succumbed to the overwhelming sensation of darkness invading her every pore. Everything became clear. She knew what she had to do.

In that moment, she tasted faith.

---

There was fire and ash when Hell went to war. There was light and wind that could evaporate darkness when Heaven came to the Pit to steal their chosen back. Wars there lasted lifetimes though to Earth it would only be days.

But when Purgatory invaded, the smell was of earth and blood, the darkness met by a strangeness that had never come to Hell before.

Even the rulers of Hell had been unprepared for them. The angels were expected. Once Grace was regained, their first move was to reclaim the souls that Hell had managed to steal; the battles had been bloody and brilliant. Earth had stood still as for a moment it had seemed like demons and angels would destroy each other completely. But as always, a deal was struck in exchange for souls. A fragile truce based on lies and deception. Neither side would admit to the losses they suffered.

It was why when Hell found itself threatened by something so simple as monsters that it was a surprise.

Finding a backdoor to Hell through Purgatory had been a surprise. Though, as Crowley pointed out from topside where he ruled the Crossroads and waited for the perfect moment, maybe things like that should have been expected.

After all, the Winchesters had been the cause of that.

When weren't they at the heart of those problems?

---

"Look, Sam, I'm telling you that something fishy is going on up here," Dean snapped into his cellphone as he paid at the counter. The cashier eyed him suspiciously, like everyone else in town had, and he grinned back at him when the man stared too long. Just as quickly the cashier looked away, flustered that he had been caught.

"Literal fish, considering people are being dragged into the lake and eaten?" Sam's sarcastic voice was garbled over the airwave.

"I'm going to ignore that."

"I thought I was funny."

"Yeah, that's one thing we don't share, Sammy. I'm the funny one." Dean grabbed the box of pie and his beer and headed out the door. It jingled loudly as it shut behind him and he passed two small women, giving them a grin and wink. No use in being unfriendly and getting noticed anymore than he and Sam had been. But the one woman turned her head towards him abruptly and stared back at him. Startled by intensity of her look, he could only stare back as she bared her teeth in a strangely animalistic warning. Then it was gone and the snarl was replaced by a sunny smile that suited her young face.

For a second, Dean was sure he was seeing things. It had been a long drive up here, a spur of the moment trip based just off information from Garth that something was going on. The night they had found a place to stay, there had been three deaths out at the lake. A woman and her children had been dragged into the water and drowned, with her throat torn out and only soaked toddlers' clothing left behind. No witnesses, just the tracks of something large and finned in the trails close to the water.

Chalking his anxiety up to hunger and exhaustion, he shrugged and continued on to the Impala. Sam was still rattling away in his ear about why this made even less sense than when they had arrived. Dean rolled his eyes and let him continue on, knowing if he interrupted Sam would just start all over again. Just to irritate him if he knew his little brother.

"We're in Southwest Virginia. The whole state hasn't had a mass amount of action lately and now, boom, suddenly fish people eating them? That doesn't sound a little strange to you?"

"Stranger things have happened." Dean juggled the boxes around, trying to find his keys. "Monster activity has been skyrocketing lately. Which is kind of messed up considering that you'd think they would be lying low."

"With the demons retreating back to Hell, and the Angels getting their Grace back, yeah." Sam was rustling some papers around. "I can't find anything in the library though, Dean. No history of people dying in the lake. Nothing. It's like this sort of stuff doesn't even exist to this place. This town has no history of monsters. Barely anything for demonic occult either."

"There's got to be something. Do fish people even migrate? Hell, do we even know much about fish monsters from the Black Lagoon?" His joke fell flat as Sam continued to try to explain why this was impossible. Unwilling to set the boxes on the damp gravel down, Dean felt the beer case slipping out of his hand. "Shit shit shit!"

Before it could fall to the ground, another hand appeared and snatched it before the bottles could break. He froze, staring at the familiar tan sleeve and looked up.

Castiel eyed him patiently. "You could simply have put it all down."

He took in a deep breath. "Cas."

Sam stopped mid-rant. "Is that Cas?"

"Yep. Captain Heaven in the flesh." Dean couldn't help but tease the angel over his ranking considering the angels had resumed the Garrison. Castiel said nothing, just held the beer and waited patiently for Dean to finish. "Maybe he's here to help. I'll call you back."

As he hung up on Sam, Castiel squinted a little at him. "I wasn't here to help you. I need you to help me."

"No, I need your help.

"I asked you first." He sounded annoyed enough that Dean frowned back and took the beer case out of his hands.

"What are you, five years old?"

"I think that I've told you, considering the space and scope of time, that calculating my age is…"

"Spare me the Castiel's intro to math lessons. Had enough of those in the past couple of years." Dean sighed, giving up. He could recognize that determined look on the angel's face. "Well, you know. You're family, so we share the help around. Let's hear it. What's up?"

"The angels have been hearing things."

"That's an accomplishment." Dean opened the trunk and set the boxes in. "I've been praying to you for weeks now, since you guys went to war. Sam and I… and I've heard nothing from you."

"I had more things, bigger things, to worry about, Dean." The angel looked away, watching the shop instead of the hunter. "Things that I can't ignore."

Dean ground his teeth. Since regaining his Grace, since his time spent as a human, much of the naivety Castiel had managed to hold onto before had been shed. In more ways, he reminded Dean of when they first met. Cold. A soldier in the purest sense.

Though Dean knew, like only those closest to the angel might, the chinks in that armour he had. There were moments when Castiel was unguarded but what had happened over the past years, from the Metatron's betrayal to his humanity, had embittered him more than Dean had expected. Had liked. He'd been different than when he had started falling before. Before he had been fighting his fate. Now he simply accepted whatever he was given without question.

Nothing like the Castiel that had learned about freedom.

"Hell has been quiet ," the angel said after a moment's silence.

"Thought that was a good thing."

"I don't mean wars or schemes. I mean the Gates and the souls that go through them." He drew an imaginary rectangle as if to demonstrate. "The Reapers have been taking no souls there. The ones that slip through… it is like a trickle. They've just… stayed still. We've gone through several thousands to see if they could come to Heaven, or even be reborn immediately if we can find a way. We do not interfere like that but we can't leave them. It isn't what God would want and I can't find Death to get any sort of explanation."

"So they can't get to their punishment. And this is bad because…" Dean was only half-listening. Hell, to his memory, was not really a place he wished on anyone. So someone had closed the Gates a bit themselves, so what?

"Then all of those souls have nowhere to go. They rot in the ground for eternity, which is a bad idea." Castiel leaned against the Impala comfortably. "There is no other place for them to go besides Heaven or Earth. I highly doubt you want more ghosts on your hands. I'm not even sure what happens to demons when they die anymore."

"Never thought angels would miss Hell's presence," Dean said.

He got a shrug for an answer. "Everything has a balance."

"Guess this is where Lethe would have come in handy, huh?" When he said that, he watched Castiel's face carefully. But the angel was looking at the cars across from him as if he'd never seen them before.

"If I summon Crowley or Abaddon, they will not come and they likely have wards against angels. But I was thinking that perhaps you…" Slowly, his blue eyes dragged away from the cars to Dean's face.

"No freaking way. Come on, Cas. You saw what those demons pulled on me and Sam. Enemy of my enemy is my friend is crap when those bastards are involved. Only worked for us once anyway." Explosively, Dean slammed the trunk shut. "You are asking me to risk our necks because you guys had that big scrap a few weeks back and you don't want to get pally with them right now. I get it. But they won't answer our summons anyway."

"Crowley will. You remember? He is hardly Abaddon's friend and he's always ready for a deal." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Something about this that makes me believe we need to find out what is happening in Hell if they are closing pathways. Even for demons, they've been far too quiet."

"Fair enough but what's to keep Crowley from ripping our throats out? He's not exactly president of our fan club."

"I will be there if there is trouble." He ignored how annoyed Dean looked. "I just need you both to summon him for me."

"That'll end well. Putting you and Crowley in the same room tends to end in someone getting' bloody. Fine. Just… fine. " Dean rested his arms on the car hood and stared at Castiel thoughtfully. "How is Heaven, anyway?"

"Angels never thought they would owe a debt to human souls but I think they are getting over that embarrassment now." He shrugged. "No signs of Metatron or the others. Whatever they were up to isn't likely to ever be known. Michael is somewhere in this world but he still has no interest in any of the angels. He wanders. I wonder if he is one of the few that won't recover from losing his grace, from the madness he came back with. What I did to him, what… she did to him, it changed him."

"Or maybe that whole thing had nothing to do with Michael's plans and getting kicked out of Heaven just happened anyway. I know you guys might be willing to hunt down good old Marv," Dean said while watching Castiel closely. The angel sighed and turned around.

"No, we're not." When he saw Dean looking to say something he held up a hand. "As painful as it was, that punishment…."

"Gee, thanks. Glad the human experience was a bad taste in your mouth."

"It was for the best for many of them," Castiel snapped. "They learned more about humanity in that time than they have in millennium. Some miss it even. I hope it makes better angels out of them because many realized how to make the best of our worlds. How we could try to find happiness."

Dean nodded and scratched at the back of his hand without looking up again. "And you, Cas? Were you happy?"

"I was content."

He rolled his eyes at that. "That's not the same thing and no, you weren't. You gave up, then you chose to fight again. But not once were you as happy as you claim. I could tell."

"I said content. I never said happy."

The angel turned to leave and Dean cleared his throat.

"You did what you had to do, Castiel. For the angels… and for them."

He saw Castiel's fingers tighten into a fist but before he could look at his face, the angel was gone in a flutter of air and cloth. Dean shook his head and carefully looked around at the store. The two women were sitting on a picnic table close to the other cars, staring at him. One grinned and he blinked, thinking he'd seen fangs and black eyes.

But then it was gone and he knew he could have hallucinated that.

---

Castiel didn't go far from where he had left Dean in town. Though part of him knew he should return immediately to Heaven or even to where he had last seen Crowley, he lingered in the park close by. Standing in the forested shoreline of the lake, he took a rare moment to himself. He never had those lately. Rebuilding the Garrisons, counselling the angels who had not wanted to return, who had been forced to return or risk death, the war against Hell… all of that had taken so much time. Now the souls trying to enter Hell but turned away were consuming his attention. Without a war, without a battle, the angels were growing restless. Without Naomi, or any other angel who had known in advance, he was having to contend with new power struggles in Heaven itself.

The strange seraph who claimed to be Michael was no help either. Or the remnants of the greater angels who refused to come home. But he had. He had too much at risk if everything started to spiral out of control.

He needed rest.

That feeling was all too familiar. He'd never thought to consider time moving too fast or too slow; none of it had ever mattered before. Now it did. Castiel closed his eyes and tried to force himself to relax.

When he put his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers brushed against the worn smooth surface of a small leather bound book. It had been Sam's idea in the beginning, a way of distracting him, and something Castiel had become accustomed to as he watched Sam chronicle everything he and Dean did. It was easy to imitate him but slowly he had made it his own. He'd carried the journal for three years, adding pages, removing them, scratching things out and ripping things up.

At first his journalling was by the day, then the week, and in the past year just every month. Things he'd found, learned, experienced… things he had missed. The more precious of those pages he kept, the rest were thrown away. Every page was dated in reverse until the past nine months were in the negative and scratched out. The journal confused Dean and Sam, baffled the angels, but to Castiel the pages made perfect sense.

Three years.

He'd expected something monumental to happen the anniversary of the third year. He had waited for something, anything, to give him a sign that it was over. That he could believe that he would be allowed something he'd never thought to want before. A flicker of a spell cracking, a feeling of release, or even the slightest warning that something was going to change. Instead, a war in Hell and the angels returning to Heaven had pulled him into battle. After that, there'd been no signs.

Nothing.

Just sameness. The same loneliness, the same ache he'd felt both as an angel and as a human. It had dulled over time, scarred over and slowly became bearable. But then, at that three year mark, some absurd hope had made it sharp again, so sharp he had spent every day waiting until he realized nothing was going to change. Until he tried to bury it with his other worries and troubles.

But it was there, always ready to sink into him when he least expected it.

Nothing had changed, from then to now.

Glancing at a wrinkled page, he scratched out an obscure note and wrote the date and the number of days down. It was a force of habit now. Unlike his addiction to alcohol and painkillers for a brief span of time, or his odd cravings for sugar, he'd never overcome it.

Castiel flipped back through the book as he took a seat on the water's edge and lowered his head to read what he'd written that day that three years had passed. Using his fingers, he traced the cursive writing of the only three words on the page. One a false name, the other two true names.

Acting cold and indifferent hadn't distracted him from it at all. Time as a human hadn't nor regaining his Grace. Nearly four years hadn't erased it.

He missed them both.

Thousands of angels were his family. Two humans were his brothers, his best friends.

He was still one of the loneliest creatures on Earth.

---

The bar of the rack pressed into the muscles around her spine. Or what was left of them. Each slow dig of the sharp wheel behind her bit deeper and deeper into her, until she could feel it just brushing bone. She knew she was missing parts of herself. Here, in this dark place, there was a sensation of being out of body. Not that she really had one now.

What the knives and the flames tortured was her soul.

Twisting it and perfecting it, as he liked to say to her when she stopped paying attention.

It was easy to learn to disassociate herself from the pain. To push it down and let her desire for her own hand at the knife let her survive.

A hand slapped her hard on the face when she started to close her eyes. White eyes flicked over her face. "Come on, girl. Pay attention. I don't have all century for you to learn the ropes."

Something wrapped around her throat immediately. "Ah, speak of the devil."

She choked as the pressure increased and the hand she had free raised, broken fingers and all, to try to unwrap the rope.

"You made the deal knowing this was how it could be, little girl." He leaned in close and she smelled rotting on his breath. As always. She wasn't sure what he was. She only ever saw white eyes glowing in the darkness. He knew that she felt more comfortable in the dark and he liked to use that against her. But he only made her scream on certain occasions.

"I'm here to break you," he sang out. "And then to put you back together like I do."

Her skin crawled at the underlying threat of that. If he'd left her tongue in today, she could have answered him with what insults she could think of. But all she could do was let her eyes speak volumes at him. He grinned at the look.

"Yes, yes, girl. I know." Stroking her face, he clucked his tongue. "It is midweek and you know what that means I hope."

It was impossible to hide the gleam in her eyes.

He smirked as they flickered black, just a little. "Yes, my dear. Your turn to play for today."

But before she could feel much relief, he raised his favourite knife and tapped it against her cheek.

"But first, I just want a taste. You are one of my favourites, you know. A shining star in my students."

Even without her tongue, her screams took on a piercing, musical tone that made her Teacher smile as he continued to tell her all the best sweet spots to hit. Always a lesson in his tortures. Always something new to learn. A new way to torture a victim to make the succumb.

She had been down here for what felt like eternity and every day, he taught her a new way to scream.

---

"How'd he look?" Sam asked as he finished the chalk lines on the ceiling of the motel room. He stepped down off the chair and dusted his hands on his jeans.

"Looked like just old Castiel." Dean shrugged as he finished mixing. "Human Cas was a mess but at least he was a bit more open with what he felt. Angel Cas?" He made a face and shook his head. "He tries to act as if he's fine and that he's back to being . But we both know something is wrong."

"Yeah. He's not exactly had it easy in the past few years."

His brother shrugged again. "Neither have we, remember? Shared souls, deals gone wrong, Angels to get back into Heaven and demons to try to keep one step ahead of?" He gave his reflection in the window a look. "Really it is just the same thing year after year. We're just older from it."

"Yeah." Sam stood behind him and made a show of looking at the top of Dean's head. He twisted uncomfortably to look up at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Check you for any bald patches or grey hairs."

"Not all of us can get salon quality hair on discount budgets like you, Sammy." He swiped his hand through his shorter hair. "I don't have grey hairs or bald spots." Dean's fingers probed. "Do I?"

"Whatever you say, old man." Sam shrugged and grinned again.

"Shut up." He was shoved away and Dean muttered about him being a jerk. Chuckling, Sam quickly grabbed Ruby's knife while his brother held out his hand. "Here goes nothing."

They cut his thumb, and he squeezed blood from the wound as he called for Crowley in Latin. When he tossed the lit match down, the flame hissed and snapped but there was no sign of anything else. Stillness and not a hint of a demon about to burst in, let alone a King of the Crossroads.

"Cas," Dean muttered as he set the switchblade down. "I hope you're paying attention because I doubt he'll be thrilled when he gets here."

"You're bloody right I'm not." Crowley's voice was loud and grating in the small room and they both spun to see him coming in out of the bathroom. He looked like his body was smoking still and he dusted off his silk jacket furiously. "I just had this cleaned. What the hell is the big idea?"

"Well, uh." Sam backed off as the demon stalked toward them. Small as his meatsuit was, they made sure to put some distance between them. Everything about the furious look on his face screamed that he was ready to rip them apart.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your spines out and use them to play fetch with my dogs."

"Come on, Crowley," Dean said playfully as he grinned. "Not happy to see us?"

"I was busy. I do have things to take care of, a partner in Hell to make think I am on her side so she doesn't have her own army attack me, and a bottle of the best Scotch with my name on it that I feel I've earned. You two are hardly what I need in my life. The last time we dealt with each other, there was betrayal galore and you two insipid bastards caused the angels to go to war against Hell and for what? A few measly souls you felt bad for?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the rant.

"So if we aren't going to have a chit chat, let's get on with the spine ripping." Crowley took two strides forward, enjoying the way both Winchesters backed off from him. Years had passed but he was sure they'd been expecting him to act meeker after everything that had been taken from him. After…

He was yanked to a stop by the trap limiting him. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Bastards."

"All these years and you still fall for it, eh? Still can't get out of that trap." Dean grinned. "So much for a big tough demon."

"Well, not a big one," Sam interrupted.

"Oh, short jokes from the Moose. Very classy." Crowley sighed and did a slow turn around the circle. He looked disgusted by the modest motel room. "So what brings the complimentary reach around? Wanting to add a third to your dynamic duo again? I should tell you, boys." He turned and his eyes turned red for a flash. "I may be up for that."

Both men didn't bother to hide their revulsion but it was the sudden flutter of wings that kept them from having to answer.

"I asked them to," Castiel said, voice gruff but soft from the doorway.

The demon backed off a step but recovered, cocking his hip to the side and crossing his arms over his chest to try to seem bored. But his dark eyes stayed fixed on the angel and when Sam looked closer, he saw his jaw actually ticking. Castiel still frightened him.

"Cassie. The reach around just got so much kinkier. I know you were into demons in the past but I'm not sure I'm your type." He grinned, baring his teeth viciously. "After all, I'm a salesman, not a whore."

The angel said nothing to the barb and his silence agitated Crowley enough that he stopped grinning.

"Like I told the boys, I have things to do. Why the summons?"

Castiel cut past the snarkiness Dean would have used on Crowley to get to what he wanted. "Hell isn't taking in souls. It's resisting them. Why?"

"That's it? You're concerning yourselves with the politics of the Pit? Sweet Hell, you must be hard up for some meaning to your otherwise meaningless existence." He closed his eyes and then shrugged, as if deciding it wasn't worth hiding. "Bullocks, not like you'll let me leave if I don't tell you. What the hell? Not like it actually matters."

Both hunters gave him an annoyed look at his rambling. "Any time today, Crowley," Dean prompted.

"If you must know, there's been a major security problem." Crowley's eyes snapped to Sam. "Caused by the big moose."

"Me? I've not been in Hell for years." The younger Winchester took a seat on the low dresser and met Dean's concerned look. "Not since…"

"Oh yes, since saving the gorgeous Bobby Singer, I know. But you forgot to do something, didn't you? You left something in plain sight."

Both Castiel and Dean glanced at him but Sam shrugged. "You got me. I didn't take anything with me really."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It is what you did, you moron. You found that little shortcut through Purgatory. Which, kudos for you. Centuries none of us but maybe one or two would know about that. Yet you got lucky. Isn't that just peachy?"

Sam clued in immediately. "The door from Purgatory to Hell."

"Bingo, Moose. Only took you long enough to catch on."

"Wait, so Hell won't take souls because of Purgatory?" He gave the demon a confused look. "Like a big leak or something?"

"Something like that. Except the leak is monsters, into Hell. Monsters happy to invade and cause some problems for my kind. Hard to do good business when dead monsters start chowing down on the human souls I need on my side."

"I would have thought they'd work with you," Dean cut in. Crowley made a face.

"We may have something they take offense to. The Alphas at the least."

Castiel looked at both men and then at Crowley. "Eve. They have Eve's body."

"Their beloved mother is still in residence there, yes. All corpse-like and twitchy. Very twitchy." Crowley grinned at their open confusion and his eyes fixed on Castiel. "You remember our working together, I'm sure. What it was like when I was experimenting on her."

Both Dean and Castiel flinched but the angel didn't answer.

"Part of the reason why my own men are sealing off parts of Hell. They find her body, I don't doubt they could do some damage with what she has cooking in there."

The cryptic phrasing made Castiel stare harder at him, trying to see what he could mean. But he was already taunting the Winchesters again and ignoring him.

"Sealing off the souls from going to the Pit makes no sense. Didn't think Hell could."

"There are certain procedures, Dean. Bargains to strike with Death. He was oddly interested." Crowley was well aware that Castiel was staring at him but to irritate him he was grinning at the humans.

"But why? After last year, I'd think you guys could use all the demons you could get."

Castiel finally moved to stand just in front of Crowley. "Because demons take time. Torture and time to change. The souls likely would never get to Hell before possibly being taken into Purgatory. That gives the monsters more ammunition. Or worse… a way out of there using the human souls as transport. Dean, you remember."

Dean glanced at the arm he'd carried Benny through in. Human souls might be a different thing for a monster to try to leap into but nothing was impossible. He knew that too well.

"Aren't we all smart?" Crowley gave them a sarcastic slow clap. "So that's the info, boys. Learn something."

Sam's hand tightened around the knife but when he looked at Dean his brother shook his head, just a little. Whether they liked it or not, Crowley had been one of the better sources of information in the past few years. Sighing, he got onto the chair and carved into the circle. Crowley made no move to leave and stared at Castiel until the angel looked back at him.

"So, you might say that it is in Heaven's best interest to help the demons."

Castiel's grin was cool. "Why would we do that? You have your own troubles, we have ours."

"Can you really handle all the wicked souls? Create another Hell? Or better yet, deal with a Hell where monsters gain control of the terrible… terrible things, the terrible Archangel that are caged within it? If they find their dear mother, for example, and find a way of reviving her?"

"Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you live," Castiel said, knowing Crowley had done that deliberately. To place doubt in the Winchesters and himself. He knew what Heaven was capable of and he let that thought keep him from smiting the demon. "I don't have time for you, Crowley.

"Oh we've got oodles and I would love to catch up." Ignoring the way they staggered around him, as if ready to pounce and slit his throat, Crowley smirked at Castiel. Focussed every bit of venomous concern into his voice so it came out soft and wheedling. "So, Cassie. Still missing the wife and kid eh? World still feeling incomplete without your little abominations at your side?"

The angel barely moved, but standing so close to him Dean could feel the sudden tension go through him.

"Get out of here, Crowley," Sam warned.

"Stow it, Moose. You know, not everyone believes dear Meg was killed. Or that the child died as well when the Lethe closed. We all felt it close so it made sense but…" Crowley gave an almost too casual wave of the hand. "I know I don't believe it anymore. Something fishy about that story. Now that I have had actually time to consider it, it is too simple. Too easy. My guess is you hid the bitch and the bastard."

When Castiel didn't say anything, Dean stepped forward. "We saw it happen."

"Sure you did. Like you and dear Sam here wouldn't do anything to help him. Family means so much to you after had Castiel followed for a while but never saw a thing. But I still think there is more to this story." Crowley made a show of buffing his nails on his sleeves. "You see, it is more than just rumour. The monsters in Purgatory, as base and animalistic as they are, are a rather religious sort as well; even to them, a nephilim demon would be interesting. And the demons would be stupid not to think that a different type of Cambion would be of use. A weapon against the angels."

His grin was white and wide. "It does call for more research, doesn't it?"

Before Castiel could stop him, he was gone.

---

It was a tense hour as they cleaned up the motel room and made sure for the hundredth time that they weren't about to be attacked by Crowley's personal demons for summoning him. But the motel had been quiet. The whole town was on edge since the monster had showed up and the streets were empty when they left the motel to check supplies.

"I don't like this," Castiel whispered as he watched the Winchesters go through the Impala carefully, looking for hexbags or anything a demon could have stashed on them.

"What's to like?" Dean adjusted the bags in the trunk and turned around to face him. "Crowley knows something. Big deal. I don't care about Crowley but the other stuff? That's freak out worthy."

Castiel acted as if he hadn't heard him. "If the demons are at war, the angels may have to interfere. And then there is the matter of the monsters."

"Come to think of it," Dean said, staring at his brother. "Monsters have been a little more in your face lately."

"Yeah for a while there they were pretty quiet. Under the radar."

"Still are but this new one… I mean they don't often move into new territories, you know?"

Sam let the trunk fall shut and leaned back on it. "Maybe something is going on. But still, a lot of the time, monsters and demons can work together if they have a common enemy."

"That's what concerns me," Castiel interrupted. Both men looked at Castiel and he stared back unblinkingly. "I know you think we won the War but we were lucky. The demons were not happy to be on the losing side yet again. If the monsters are in Hell through Purgatory, it may be that we have a very large problem on our hands. If they manage to put aside their hatreds long enough to work together, I'm not sure even Heaven could do much to stop them."

"Especially if Leviathan get involved," Sam agreed.

"If we're lucky, they won't bother. You said the entry was to the centre. Not close to where we used to see the Leviathan but I don't like this either way."

Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Got a point. Monsters and Demons together at once can be a problem. Let's just hope that the demons close that door soon."

"I don't think the demons will work with monsters," Sam said. "Wouldn't make sense. There's too much history between them. Almost as bad as angels and demons."

The angel nodded to both of them. "I will go to Heaven and see if anyone has heard of anything. There is still some restructuring going on there."

"What, angel soldiers getting made into paper pushers? Five days from retirement, that sort of deal?"

Castiel glared at Dean. "I understood that."

"I knew I had him watch all those Lethal Weapons for a reason," Dean said, nudging Sam with his shoulder. They both looked up to see him dusting off his coat sleeves, a sign he was likely to leave. "Cas, it's not just the monsters that's bothering you."

"Of course it is. I don't want another War. My family are recovering from the last one." And I am still not welcome with them often, he thought bitterly. So much blame was still there, even after all this time.

He turned around and Sam cleared his throat. "Cas."

When he glanced over his shoulder, Sam's weary eyes were locked on his face. "You know the monsters in Hell might just be a trick. A distraction. I think that that someone could be trying to find Meg and Nyx."

Unlike before, this time there was a visible flinch that ran right across his face, as if Sam had struck him.

Sam continued, ignoring the glare he was getting. "We all know that the demons and angels were interested in them when they thought they were alive. If they suspect we faked their deaths, then they're in danger."

"As long as they remain hidden, they will be in no danger." As if that was final, he stepped backwards away from Sam.

Dean crossed his ankles and leaned back against the shining black Impala. "Cas, buddy… it's been over three years. I thought Death told you three years. They can't stay hidden forever. Maybe it's time we do something more."

"Yes, well, he likely lied to me. It seems that happens frequently," Castiel answered bitterly. "They are safe. We made them safe. That is all I can want."

Dean put his hands in the air and walked off a few steps. Knowing he was upset, Sam looked around at Castiel who was watching his friend thoughtfully.

"Cas." He fidgeted when that icy gaze fixed on him. "I get wanting to keep them safe. I get it. But maybe it's time to go back. I think you might need them."

"Meg was forced to forget what she is and who I am. Nyx was too young to remember. They don't need me there and it would only complicate things. What I need is irrelevant," Castiel snapped. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because I worry that you're going to become the angel we first met. Except you might end up being worse off for it."

The look he was shot let Sam know he had overstepped his bounds with him. Their friendship had become shaky lately as secrets and exhaustion had nearly driven them all apart. Even now, back to where they'd nearly begun, things had not been the same between the three.

"I just wish you could rethink this," Sam whispered and Castiel looked away.

"I need to go. Tell Dean I will be in touch."

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes as the angel disappeared in a whirl of wind. His heart ached, literally, and shakily he rubbed at his chest. When he opened them again, Dean was waiting for him patiently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Don't lie, Sam. We both know that doesn't work anymore." Dean tapped his head. "I can read you easy."

Sam grinned to cover up his discomfort. It had been a phantom pain and it was easy to ignore. "Like when you say you're going for a beer and it turned out you were singing at the karaoke bar?"

"One time, and you won't let me forget that."

"Was worth it for when you sang "Don't Stop Believing" and had the bar treating you like a rock star."

"Anyway!" Dean stopped him curtly. "What are we gonna do?"

"Hunt this monster?" Sam offered and Dean stared at him. Even though neither of them liked leaving mid-way through a case, they both had the feeling that if they didn't something was about to go wrong. Garth would be annoyed but he'd learned not to ask questions when the Winchesters said there were even bigger problems at hand. There would be another pair of hunters up here in a day if they called.

"You want to go see them, don't you?"

Dean nodded. "I don't trust Crowley not to figure something out. If he thinks they're alive, then it could be others do as well. Monsters or demons. Not to mention the angels. Not all of them were thrilled with what Castiel did to send them back to Heaven. If they're desperate enough, then we've got a big big problem."

"Well, we have our hexbags and some warding spells in my journal I can use. They're a few days out. What if Cas catches on?" Sam waved his hand at the air. "He has a habit of showing up still."

"I think he's avoiding this. Took him a long time to get over it."

"Do you really think he did, Dean? Would you if you lost someone you loved? Like it or not, we both know what he felt for Meg. Or could you get over losing a child?"

Dean looked uncomfortable. "No. You got a point. What do you want to do?"

"Check in on them. We haven't been there in months, maybe they won't even notice us."

His brother actually seemed relieved. "I'll go pay the bill. You get the bags together."

Sam nodded and watched Dean walk off to the motel office. When he was out of sight, he slumped down and coughed harshly. A spittle of blood stained his lips, just enough that he when he wiped it away his fingertips were red. His hands shook as he stared at it and then up at the Impala. Three years of health, even with that strange but incredible connection with Dean, and now… now he felt tired. Not sick, not yet anyway. It was a weird feeling though; as if he wasn't feeling all the pain he could be feeling.

Not wanting to worry his brother, he wiped at his mouth and quickly slipped into the car. As he watched Dean come back from the office, he began to rummage through the glove compartment to find the hexbags and grabbed the map to Arkansas.

"Going to be a hell of a long drive," he muttered as he unfolded the map and eyed the familiar route.

---

The bar was dark and poorly lit, the air smoky with a hint of whiskey and beer in its odour. A jazz musician was singing low and sultry to the crowd as women in sequins and men in fine suits swayed to the band. Something out of an old movie, the way they sedately moved and laughed as if actually happy.

Sitting cross legged at the bar, she turned her eyes to the mirror overhead. Saw herself and, though her skin was darker with her hair in a gorgeous crop of black ringlets and her eyes amber brown, she knew it was her. How she knew didn't make sense; she didn't look like this.

But she knew who she was and she was this woman. Or at least, she was inside this body and it belonged to her for now.

A man in a white suit took a seat next to her and set down a glass of wine. "Did you find him?"

She turned and looked at him, her shapeless dress with its lacing and beads shimmering in the light. "Who?" she asked, bewildered by his arrival.

"That Man of Letters, the one I told you to find. He needs to be stopped." At her blank stare, he gripped her arm tight, his craggy face pulled tight in a frown. He shook her hard enough her teeth rattled in her skull. "You are one of my second in commands. You should know to follow orders better or I will release a Knight to take care of this problem myself. It might take a few years but she'll find him just fine. You are slipping up, daughter."

"A knight?"

What the hell was wrong with this dream?

"You screwed up last time, letting Crowley take that Campbell boy on a deal. We have limited time and he doesn't know the plans. Fix this." The hands twisted her about on her seat and yellow eyes stared down at her. "Or I will forget I call you daughter and give you back to Alastair. Again."

She opened her mouth to scream as those yellow eyes came closer and closer.

Her head jerked around on the pillow as she immediately snapped out of the nightmare.

Nightmares. Meg had never liked having them or even those irregular dreams where nothing bad and nothing pleasant ever happened. For what she could remember, she had never had a dead, dreamless sleep, and she slept infrequently anyway. She was used to an insomnia that no pills could fix and the few hours she managed to get wouldn't help. Everyday she should feel exhausted by it but there was no cure for it.

When her eyes finally opened, instead of a yellow eyed gaze threatening to harm her, there were two large blue eyes just hovering close by. Familiar blue eyes. Groaning, she rolled to her side a little, saw the red numbers on her tiny clock, and pulled her blanket over her head.

"Five more minutes."

A child pounced and she felt two hands dig into the blanket. "Promised!"

"It is one in the morning." Half-heartedly, Meg tried to fight it but the blanket was pulled down and a cherub face stared seriously down at her. "Nyxie."

"Promised!"

Meg and the girl stared at each other for a few seconds and finally she took in a deep breath. "Fine. Go get Clarence and we'll go."

With a squeal of delight, the little girl took off and disappeared into the hall. Rubbing at her eyes, Meg sat up and shuddered at how cold she felt. Her gaze fell on the bottle of pills on the table. Medication wasn't doing her any good still. She knew she might have collapsed into a seizure before that dream. Her tongue was sore from a bite and her head ached, that woozy feeling not leaving her.

She should just go back to bed.

But that would disappoint Nyx and she'd learned not to do that.

Moving quietly through her still dark room, she dressed and found a heavy coat for herself, taking the time to check the locks on her windows. An old habit she didn't quite understand made her pocket her switchblade as well. She made sure to move softly. All she needed was to wake the other people in the old house and if Nyx got excited then the whole house would be woken up by her chatter.

Once she had zipped up her boots, she stared at her pale hands and had that odd feeling she had felt for three years now. That they belonged to someone else, that she wasn't real. That she was meant to be something else. Closing her eyes again, she steadied herself and quickly grabbed her flask from the night-table drawer.

When she stood up, a tiny body flew over her bed and wrapped around her legs. Clinging tight and refusing to let go even when she tried to walk a few steps. Meg grinned down at the blue eyes flashing up at her, framed by messy brunette waves. Her father's eyes, she thought and then shook her head. That was stupid. She didn't know that for fact, just assumed it since her own eyes were so dark.

"Got him, kid?" she asked and Nyx nodded, reaching into her own heavy coat and showing her the stuffed unicorn. Patched up repeatedly because Nyx insisted on taking it everywhere with her and that meant it was dragged, battered, ripped but ultimately well loved, its black beaded eyes stared lifelessly up at her. The sight of those black eye made Meg uncomfortable as they always did.

"Gonna be cold!" Nyx said as Meg pulled a child's cabby hat over her abundance of dark hair.

"Got that right, baby girl. Must be the rain coming in. Come on." She swung her up into her arms, listening to her giggles. After pulling her toy up beside them, Nyx rested contentedly against her as Meg left the rear of the house for the yard. Two porch chairs had been dragged out to the middle of the garden and, ignoring Nyx's nonsensical chatter, Meg took a seat on one of the old chairs. Strung up on the trellis surrounding the patio, the LD lights cast a blue glow over their matching pale skin and let her clearly see Nyx's excitement. She squirmed on her lap while they both looked up at the starry sky.

"Gonna see one?" Nyx demanded, pointing at the starry sky.

"Maybe."

Nyx's fascination with falling stars, and the way the lights would shoot across the darkness, had made this a weekly habit for them since last year. They didn't always see one but she knew every Thursday they would come out to watch the sky. Meg pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up as well.

"Why do you like the stars so much, Nyxie?" she asked like she did every Thursday.

"Pretty."

"Yeah, I guess." Meg shivered as a tiny light flashed across the sky. "You know what the guys in town say? They are angels falling."

Nyx rolled her blue eyes comically. "Silly. Angels fly."

"Maybe they lose their wings," her mother said and Nyx gave a childish gasp. When she looked down the girl's eyes were so big and shiny that Meg realized she was about to burst into tears. "It's just a story, Nyx."

"Don't like that story." She rubbed at her face tiredly and hugged Clarence the unicorn tighter.

"Never do," Meg muttered and she held her close. "What stories do you want to hear?"

But Nyx was ignoring her, eyes only on the stars. Meg watched her fascinated look, the way her mouth went slack as she set about trying to count the stars like she always did, counting in fives over and over again. When a light streaked across the sky, likely a plane though Meg said nothing, she was so excited Meg had had to hold her still. She forgot her own strange nightmare and simply waited patiently until Nyx fell asleep counting the stars when no more of them fell. Even then, she stayed out till nearly dawn, letting her daughter sleep in her arms and wondering like she always did why the darkness didn't bother her so much as the light.

---

He had changed his favourite place from Chicago to the East Coast when he decided to make his presence more known. Not much for explanations, it was more out of a need for different scenery than a desire to trade in a fabulous deep dish pizza for ripe seafood. Night time was still his favourite time to be out and he found a particularly nice, classy restaurant in Halifax to try. It served excellent lobster.

His presence, of course, could be why Halifax's sudden rise in fatalities would have to be explained away by the government as unfortunate and also unexplainable.

Breaking apart a choice section of lobster, Death looked into the beady eyes of the boiled crustacean thoughtfully. A part of him toyed with the idea of bringing it back to life but dismissed that as too cruel. He was a realist, after all, and one of the most powerful beings in this existence. Such things should be beneath his cruelty.

"If you ask me," he said to the lobster, tapping it with his fork. "You haven't missed much. Others have to live for years and then be trapped. At least you were raised in a tank and never knew freedom."

Unlike humans who ate so noisily with their fingers, the entity speared a juicy slice of lobster and popped it into his mouth.

"Rather like the majority of players in this dreadful game," he said once he finished chewing. He eyed the dead waitress at his feet and then reached for his glass of wine. "Isn't that right, Castiel?"

The shadows shifted, as he expected they would, and the angel stepped out into glow of the candlelight. Death took a long sip as he watched the vessel of the angel. Perhaps his time as a human had aged the vessel a little, the look of weariness was less a mask and more of a physical attribute. Death had watched the past three years with the sort of amusement similar to a vulture watching a dying animal slowly give in to the inevitable. Then he had waited, just a little longer because he needed to. Just to see what happened as well.

Judging by Castiel's expression, it had been worth it.

"It has been a while. How did you find me?"

"I just waited for a town to start experiencing more fatalities than normal," Castiel answered as he took a seat across from Death. The entity grinned ghoulishly at him and reached over to pour him a glass of wine. He actually took the glass, causing Death to arch his eyebrows.

"I see being human for a time caused you to indulge in some habits." When the angel made no answer, he continued to eat in silence, pausing now and then to take a drink. That Castiel let him eat in near silence made it clear the angel had learned patience. When he finally looked up, he was being stared at. "So why are you here? A social visit?"

"I waited. I watched and I waited. Now…"

"Ah yes, the soul war in Hell. Quite entertaining. I never thought to see such a thing. But of course you can understand I cannot have my people take the souls there either because it would just be wrong to let the monsters pervert those souls as well. It is bad enough the new kinds of monsters could be created. Quite by accident, of course." Death dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Castiel whispered, his tone hard with tension. Death let his fork clatter on the plate and he folded his hands under his chin thoughtfully.

"Spit it out then."

He saw him nervously turn the glass stem between two fingers. "Why did you have me wait three years?"

"Why not? There were reasons. I gave you several good ones."

"Recently, I have begun to wonder if they were good enough."

Death tilted his head. "So this is about your demon and your child. I should have known."

"It has been nearly four years." Castiel took a deep breath and exhaled it out, calming himself. "Why did you make me wait? What was it worth? Part of me wanted to find them when I became a human. I needed them then."

"I find so little to amuse me." Death gave him too casual of a look. "And I made you wait, told you to make a choice because you needed to. Can you imagine, Castiel, if you had been made human and found them again? They would be killed eventually. Or when you first regained your Grace? They may have meant nothing to you then. Or you would have done something foolish. As you always do."

"That's not true," Castiel said and Death smirked, clearly thinking otherwise. Knowing he could have been a pawn made his temper, usually held in check, start to escape his control. "All of this was for fun?"

"Hardly. One day you will realize that there were reasons, ones beyond the need to protect them both. It is necessary for your daughter to believe herself human, for even a short period of time."

Castiel looked at the black tablecloth. "I don't understand."

"How did your perspective change, Castiel, when you realized what it was to be human?" Death questioned and he saw him stiffen up in understanding. "You learn fast."

Castiel shakily took a long drink of wine before he closed his eyes, rubbing at his scruffy jaw with his other hand. Death watched him curiously, still resembling a vulture with the intense way he stared. There always had been something different about Castiel and even after all these years it was still remarkably clear that that hadn't changed.

"What would you do if you could bring her back?"

"Anything," Castiel blurted out and then he stopped himself, his jaw clicking with how fast he closed his mouth.

"It would be a great risk."

"To them, I know, and I could not…"

"Not just to them. But it will be riskier to let them live in darkness. Sooner or later, both of them will wake up. Whether you want them to or not."

"But that's not the same, not anymore. They won't be any safer now. If the monsters grow aware of them, if the demons or angels…"

"You can be so obtusely wrong about things, Castiel, it is almost comical." The angel glared at him furiously and Death shrugged. "Mm hmm, you aren't totally wrong. Your daughter is quite special. Then again, so is the demon. Perhaps, Castiel, you won't have the choice anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Death smiled wanly "What do you think?"

"Nyx will almost be four, Meg… Meg will have forgotten…"

"You buried the demon, thanks to the coins of Lethe, but it won't kill the demon nor does it hide what Meg really is. Spells break down, eventually; with enough time and pressure. True faces never fade. Nothing is final. Walls crack as memories push to the surface. Creation continues on." He leaned back a little. "Something your Father knows well and something Sheol knows as well."

The name he had not heard in so long made Castiel stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing you can possibly understand, Castiel. When I said three years, I did not mean I would be helping you. Your choices are ultimately your own." Death's smile was thin and almost sly. "Free will, as you may recall."

Before Castiel could react, Death snapped his fingers and sent him back home.

---

Heaven was a quiet place after the angels returned. Even with having to now juggle souls meant for Hell and not Heaven, the souls that belonged still thought it was a place of near tranquility. It was what it was before the Apocalypse; souls fading in and out of their personal heavens, enjoying their reward for devout or good lives. Only a few remembered what had happened earlier.

So much had changed and yet no soul seemed to be able to care. The angels that guarded and shepherded them remained restless but thankful to be there. After the Lethe, after times spent on Earth or in Hell, Heaven was its Paradise namesake. There they were starting to rebuild their own garrisons. Limited numbers suddenly being bolstered by the returning angels who had stayed on Earth or in Hell to finish what they'd begun.

After Death had sent him back, Castiel sat in the eternal Tuesday morning he enjoyed so much and felt nothing. No warmth from the false sun and no serenity from the calm park. As he plucked at the grass with his fingers and watched the autistic man fly a kite, he tried to feel peace.

But his mind was fixed on what Death had said.

What if he had given them up years ago for nothing but a lesson about choice?

As furious as it made him, he forced himself to think about it carefully. The past three years had been hard, not only on him but on Sam and Dean, on Kevin Tran, on even the few allies they had left. Castiel wasn't even certain where Kevin was. The Prophet had slowly lost fragments of his old self until he was a shell and he now wandered for 'answers'. Answers to what Castiel wasn't even certain. There had been so much death and pain.

Could he have lived with himself if Meg or Nyx had been subjected to that? Meg could handle herself as a demon but Nyx…

What if he had lost them?

Shaking his head, Castiel stood up and straightened his coat.

"Castiel. I had heard you were back."

He turned at that soft greeting to face Michael. Or what had been Michael. With only a trace of Grace left, no angel knew if he was really an angel or if he was nothing more than a glorified human. What was worse was that no one knew what to do with him. Michael had been one of the few unaffected by the Fall. One of the few to not care. To not fight.

It wasn't that he was a pacifist like Castiel had tried to be.

There was something else more cunning, more devious, in Michael than Grace and the one-time Sword of God. Something that unsettled every angel but no one knew why. There were so few of them left that no angel wanted to interrogate him; they all needed each other, they were all family. Castiel never liked being close to him. Since Meg's faked 'death' they had needed no time together. But now he was standing there, looking at him with a sedated grin.

"Why are you here?" Michael asked as he stood across from him. Still wearing Adam Milligan's face, something Castiel found disturbing.

"I came home."

"So I see." Michael turned a slow circle and sighed. "But why? You have been so devoted either to the Winchesters or to keeping Hell in line lately. Or did you have news of Metatron?"

"I chose to let him go," Castiel snapped. "I've not followed him."

"Mm." Michael snapped his fingers and a park bench appeared for him to sit on. "There are others on the Earth who have not returned home. The most dangerous being Sandalaphon. Metatron's twin. Where, oh where, could she be?"

"We have too few of us left to hunt those who don't want to come home. Some of the angels loved Earth."

"And you? Do you still love such a place?"

Not wanting to start this again, Castiel shook his head and started to walk away.

"Or is it just the Winchesters tying you there? You should be taking on more duties here, Castiel, as a captain of an army, and you would still be able to spend time with your human pets. Yet you wander that Earth as if hoping for something more." Michael grinned when he saw the angel stiffen up. "Or someone."

It was easier to walk away than to answer him.

Michael watched him disappear down the park path and smiled to himself. It had been a long wait, he thought, his eyes flickering between bright blue and amber yellow so quickly that it seemed like a trick of the light. He grinned. Long waits were worth it for them.

---

Heber Springs was a tiny Arkansas town. It saw its large share of tourist activity when things went well but many would barely notice it other months of the year. It was just a spot on the map for people.

It had been perfect at the time. Just enough to keep them from being noticed

After dropping Dean off at the bar to get a drink and chat up the locals for any news, Sam continued on to a small Bed and Breakfast on the outside of town, where he knew he could get a few rooms for the night for cheap. Or for free, if he was lucky and she was in the right mood. He checked the street signs as he went and followed the country roads as best as he could until he came to a place just at the outskirts. The old house was barely a standout but it had worked out for her. Well-tended, comfortable, tiny, and out of the way.

Perfect.

When he pulled in, she was already standing at the door, solemnly staring at him as she usually did.

Linda Tran rarely smiled when she saw the Winchesters anymore. She went by Linda still, though she changed her last name frequently to avoid being found by anyone looking for her. She was a familiar face in the middle of nowhere and there were days where both Winchesters were glad to have her on their side. Still, sometimes it was up in the air if she actually liked them at all.

When Sam got out of the Impala and climbed the steps, her arms were folded over her chest and he wisely only said hello before cringing and waiting for it.

"Where is he now?" she demanded instead of being polite.

"We don't know. He… he was in Nevada."

"Doing what?" She refused to move out of the way and he knew he was going to be interrogated until he gave her the answers she wanted.

"Learning the Word of God was what he told us. Kevin is a prophet, remember?" Sam asked, the long drive and his own exhaustion making him feel edgy. But her lips tightened in to a thin line and he knew immediately that that had been the wrong thing to say. "Look, Linda…"

"He is only a prophet, only a hunter, because of you two! He came back a few months ago and you know what he did when he was here? He slept. For three days without moving. Then when I went to take him food, he was gone. Emptied out my cash box, left a note saying he was looking for answers, and he was gone. When he called, he said that he was cursed. That he had to find the answers to everything."

Though that was new, Sam stared at her, seeing under the hard mask she wore. Seeing the worry and the fear. She tried so hard to be strong that sometimes she had to fight to hide how afraid she was for her only child. Kevin wasn't the only one who had changed since he had met the Winchesters. Linda was still strong, still a fighter, but she was tired as well. Tired of hiding.

"He had a rough few years. Having to keep your secret… hell, having to keep everyone's secrets. I don't blame him for wanting to be alone." She took in a shuddering breath. "I just wish he'd remember that I'm here for him."

Reaching out, Sam squeezed her shoulder for comfort. All at once she lost that sad expression and resumed that stern look he knew. Used on him and Dean, it was almost motherly. "So. You want to stay the night?"

"If you have room."

"Always do. Thank God I'm doing bookkeeping as well online or I wouldn't have any money coming into the place. Where's Dean?" she asked, looking at the Impala.

"In town, looking for some information."

"Oh?" She walked in ahead of him and he took in the warm feeling of the house happily. He spied a few child's toys stacked in the front foyer as she continued to talk. "Why are you guys here?"

"Vacation."

She spun around and thumped him on the chest. "Don't lie to me, Sam Winchester. Why are you here?"

He blushed a bit under her scrutiny. "We think Crowley's men are going to start looking for them. There's been trouble in Heaven and Hell and there's been enough distraction but…"

"He's figuring it out."

"Slowly. We have some time." Sam closed the door and followed her into the living room. Well decorated and pristine, even here felt homey and welcoming. She did like to make each place her home, so it was no wonder that Dean liked coming here. "I'm not sure how he'd figure it out really but knowing Crowley it's possible"

He sighed, wondering if he should have done more. "We should have changed their names."

"Wouldn't have done you any good," Linda said. "One thing she remembered was her name and Nyx's. You can't take everything away from them."

"But…"

"Six degrees of Separation, remember?" Linda asked. "Something is going to happen. You and I both know that eventually something is going to break. Some coincidence, some slip of the tongue."

Sam nodded and sat on the couch as she sat on the old recliner. "How are they?"

"She's the same as always. Suffering on the inside but she thinks she is hiding it. Did… did you or Dean ever tell Castiel what the spell did to her? The side-effects? "

"No. He's never asked. I think it could break him apart to know and he had so much to worry about. Is she better?"

"It is getting worse. Seizures, flashbacks, and she's taking a lot of sleep medication but nothing works. She's accepted the insomnia as normal. I keep her away from doctors as best as I can. She knows something is wrong but without any real memory, she just gives up trying sometimes." Linda sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. The worry was clear on her face, almost the same worry she'd shown for Kevin.

"You really like her, huh?" Sam asked, a bit baffled. Castiel caring for a demon hadn't been that absurd to him but that a human woman, who barely knew Meg before, to show any signs of caring seemed very strange.

Linda opened her eyes and stared at him accusingly. "Not that I think you'll understand, Sam, but she was the only one not interested in using Kevin. Or me. She's been a good friend and I hate to see her suffering."

He flinched and looked at his hands. "What about Nyx?"

Linda actually smiled when he looked back up. "She's growing. She's happy here. Though sometimes I think she sees a lot more than any of us realize. No signs of powers, no memories, not much about her to say she is any different than a human. She just plays, talks to her imaginary friends, stargazes with Meg sometimes. That's it. She's a beautiful little girl. Calls me Auntie a lot."

"Has she…"

"No." She cut him off before he could ask if she had dreamt anything. "Nothing she cries about. Sometimes I check on them at night and Meg will be sitting up with her, but I'm not sure if that is because she thinks she has to protect her or because Nyx had a nightmare." When she noticed him looking around, she gave him an impatient look. "She's at the babysitter's today so she won't be back till late."

"Babysitter?" Sam frowned. "Why would Meg…"

"Because she's a single mother who had to get a job in town doing whatever it is she could to earn extra money. And to have a life. A young girl down the way takes her to the park and lets her play if Meg is busy." Linda glanced at the clock. "Knowing Meg, she'll be headed to the bar. She's been earning some money bar-tending. Josh, the owner, likes to cut out early before he works the night-shift."

"She likes it?"

"No. She hates it. You know Meg. People and her don't often get along, whether she was demon or acting like a human. But money is money and what else she does on the side to get extra cash is her business." Linda watched Sam stand up. "Where are you going?"

"Back to town. Dean is there and I get this feeling that something is going to happen."

"You and Dean are still connected, huh?" She followed him to the front door and leaned against it as he jogged down the steps. "Is the after-burn from that spell giving you that ESP thing again?"

Sam fixed his collar and shrugged. "Something like that."

"Well, I'll be in later. If I'm not here, you know where the key is."

He saluted her jokingly and missed her affectionate chuckle as she disappeared back into the house. Instead of leaving, the minute he sat in the car he rested his head on the steering wheel and sighed. Hearing about Kevin slipping away, about Meg's own struggles, was to him just a sign that after three years everything that had gone wrong was likely to just get worse.

"How can it get worse?" he asked the rearview reflection of himself as he grabbed his phone. "Right. It can always get worse."

---

Smokey bars were always a favourite of his, even in the middle of the afternoon, and being one of the only people there made Dean's day better. As he went through the newspaper while nursing a beer, he slowly came down from the exhaustion of driving the long hours to get here. He liked this bar and the low music and drizzle of rain outside was comforting. Cheap beer, decent eye-candy when the night was right, and above all, it was quiet. Except for a man standing outside shouting about the End of Days and who had pointed at him and called him a Righteous Man.

Worst reference he'd heard in a while.

The low buzz of his cellphone caught his attention and he checked his text message to see Sam's warning. Raising his eyebrows, he cast a quick look around and saw no one he recognized. Maybe that was for the best. He just wanted some peace and quiet, even though he knew it couldn't last.

He tried to ignore how sitting with his back to the door made him feel exposed. He needed to be out of here soon once Sam showed up. It was easier to fly under the radar than get exposed. Then to be recognized right now. It was bad enough the bartender knew him from the infrequent days they spent here to rest on their way back home. The few nights they spent here to be sure Meg wasn't being exposed and Castiel's daughter was still safe.

He was mid-sip when he heard an all too familiar flutter beside him that meant only trouble right now. Dean choked on his beer hard enough that his throat burned from it and he had to cough it up before he could breathe again. Wiping at the beer dribbling from his lips, he continued to cough and turned in his seat to see Castiel sitting next to him, a beer already in his hand. As if he'd been there the entire time.

"Hello, Dean."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Dean demanded and the angel gave the ceiling a pointed look. "Yeah yeah, I get it. Ask a dumb question, get a dumb "Castiel is oblivious" response."

"I thought you were still in Virginia. Hunting."

"Case fell flat. Why are you here? How did you even find me?" He tried not to sound defensive and the angel shrugged. "Right. Of course. You would be tapped into the 'crazy religious guy' wavelength."

"Actually. It was the GPS on your phone. Sam taught me that."

Dean stared at him incredulously before glancing at his phone. Cas using technology. Wonders never ceased.

"Why are you here though?" Castiel asked.

"Needed a holiday?"

"Yes, you do but you would go to the bunker for that. Or at least what is left of it." No one discussed the fire but the slow rebuilding of the part that had burnt was ongoing when they had time. At least the personal rooms and the libraries were left. The storage cellars and dungeon hadn't fared so well. "So why Heber Springs?"

Dean looked at his hands. "Because of Crowley I needed to be sure people were safe."

"People? You've had cases here?" Castiel looked around thoughtfully at the mostly dead bar. "I haven't seen that many people here. What cases have you had recently?

Dean quickly decided that playing dumb would only make this more painful than it had to be. "Meg is here, Cas. This is where we brought her. I was hoping you'd still think we were in Virginia. Not here. I didn't plan on you coming here."

He didn't dare look at the angel's face but he felt the tension go right through him. Castiel went from relaxed to board-stiff in a heartbeat. Dean saw his hand clench around the neck of his beer bottle so tight he was sure he would shatter the glass.

"Here. She's here," he whispered. Agitated, he began to look around and straightened up a little. He looked as if he expected someone to leap out and grab him. "I should go."

"You might as well stay. Have a beer because I'm not sure she'll be here anyway. Take a breather. Relax."

Castiel fidgeted and began to peel at the bottle's label. That he wanted to hit Dean was clear but he kept his hands busy instead. "I could be endangering everything. You likely have! How long have you been coming here? Knowing you could be putting her in danger. What were you thinking"

Dean decided to ignore the way Castiel glared at and accused him.

"Months, years. Every now and then we pass through. Make it look like we're just going home. I just needed to be sure everything is how it should be." Shrugging, he took another long sip before giving Castiel a glare to match his. "Someone had to."

He cleared his throat and waited for the bartender to pass before he continued.

"She helps out around the town. Not sure what she does but most of it just revolves around odd jobs around here. James Frampton hired her on a few times, asks her for help on cases when he can't risk it. He keeps a low profile now, lives in another small town close by."

"Why Meg?" Castiel demanded.

"She's good at it. We needed to find her work. Linda can't do everything herself." Dean shrugged. "No one knows about her besides me, Sam, Linda and Kevin, Cas. James doesn't know what she is. She's been able to handle the work he asks her to take care of. Usually surveillance. I told him to keep her under radar. He doesn't want me exposing him so he owes me a favour or two."

He flipped a bottle cap. "She has no social security, no real identity besides what Sam and I made up for her. We did the best we could without leaving her in a ditch. Or would you rather I did that?"

The angry edge in his voice made Castiel sigh.

"I'm not blaming you, Dean. She needed your help. This is… this is a good place for her."

Dean glanced over when he heard the familiar rumble of an old car pulling up. Knowing cars like he did, he recognized the running purr of an old Cougar and shook his head.

"You should go now, Cas."

The angel looked out the front window, confused. As he heard the car, something went over his face once he realized why Dean would want him to leave. He hesitated, ready to disappear if he had to. He'd become used to staying away that it should be easy. But even though he tried to focus, tried to fly off, something grounded him. Though he wanted to leave, he knew what it was.

Himself. In that moment he knew what he had to do when he was faced with that easy decision of staying away or seeing what three years had brought on. .

He needed to stay. He had done penance for whatever sin God had envisioned for him, had stayed away though he had grieved so long for a chance. He had waited so patiently. Absurd as it was, Castiel needed to know that she was still there. Hiding. That what he'd fought to protect hadn't died.

Eyeing the old clock on the wall, he came to a decision. One hour. He could stay just one hour.

"I'll be fine," Castiel muttered, dropping his eyes to the bar. Dean eyed him and then took a deep breath as he nodded.

"Your funeral. Here goes."

The hunter and angel both sighed and turned back to their drinks, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment and not once looking at each other. When the door jangled open, Dean glanced over to see that Castiel was tense again, hands gripped into fists on the bar. His eyes closed as he took long, steadying breaths and when he opened his eyes again he looked ready to fly off. He hadn't even turned around but every inch of him screamed fear and anticipation. The change in him was so sudden that Dean wondered if the angel was actually ready for this.

Not sure why, he grinned and looked back ahead of himself to the bar mirror.

"You're late," the bartender said as he passed them to open up the bar's swinging door. "I asked you to do me a favour but I didn't think you'd be that late."

"Had things to do," a familiar voice muttered behind them, echoed by the steady click of heels on the hardwood. "Not like you care anyway."

Castiel's head lifted and both he and Dean turned to stare at the tiny brunette walking down the bar with her back to them.

"Fucking rain." Ruffling her damp hair with one hand, she yawned and then twisted mid step to set her bag down with unusual grace. She glanced at them with a flick of her eyes but turned away as if she barely noticed them. The bartender grabbed his coat, tossed her the keys, and headed out without another word.

As the door closed again, Dean subtly checked on Castiel. The angel wasn't able to tear his eyes away from the woman in front of them to even notice the way Dean was trying to discourage him from staring at her.

Meg's body and face, everything on the surface of her stolen body, was familiar; even the slight differences weren't enough to hide that. She'd done something to her hair, cropped a bit shorter into messy waves, with dark reds dyed in, and her eyes were lined heavier as if to draw attention away from the circles beneath them. What she was wearing was nearly Meg like with the black tights hiked to her thighs and the boots up to her calf. The black t-shirt and skirt weren't out of place. The human face she'd taken seemed just as young and untouched. At first glance, no one could tell there was something different about her.

There was a strange look to her though; like she knew she didn't belong. As if all the makeup and hair dye was a cover and she was openly hiding behind a mask.

But something told Dean that she could have been wearing her real face out for everyone to see and Castiel wouldn't stop staring at her so intensely.

After fixing her necklace and putting her hair back, Meg looked around the empty place before her dark eyes came back to them. She glanced over Castiel before looking at Dean. "You're one of the guys who stays at the house right? One of James' buds. Henry, isn't it?"

Dean smiled. "That's right."

"You still shacking up with that pretty, gigantic man?"

He lost the smile. "He's my brother."

She grinned and leaned towards him. "That's what they all say." Before he could respond, she replaced his empty bottle with a full one and looked at Castiel, ready to ask him if he wanted another. When she saw him staring, she didn't seem able to speak. He watched her reaction to him, his eyes running over her face with curious intimacy and his head tilted a little to take her all in. He couldn't seem to get enough of just looking at her; he didn't blink, barely breathed. He actually relaxed when her eyes flicked over him thoughtfully, trying to see why he looked so fascinated by her.

Dean looked at the two, saw Meg's look and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, he doesn't get out much," he said for an apology, nudging him hard in the side.

"Yes.. I…" Castiel looked at the bar and had to close his eyes. "You are very… beautiful."

"Thanks, I think." Meg frowned as if his compliment was unexpected while Dean rolled his eyes.

"Weather holding out?" Dean asked to try to divert the conversation.

"Rain's coming in. Has been going on for a week now. Had some work postponed because of it." Her eyes went over to Castiel again as if she was trying to figure out who he was. "James mentioned you'd be in."

"He's been giving you work?"

"Some."

Castiel muttered to himself and then realized they were staring at him.

She ran her eyes over Castiel, trying to draw conclusions when he looked back at her.. "Look, buddy, I don't have time for drunks. Out."

Castiel shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. Not yet."

He missed the man beside him giving another roll of his eyes and Meg simply looked confused. She opened her mouth to argue when the door chimes jangled and they heard an excited child shout.

"Mommy!"

Castiel jerked a little at the sound and Dean restrained him by his arm as a tiny blur race over around to the other side of the bar. Meg grabbed hold of the small girl who launched herself at her and swung her up into her arms. She boosted her up so she could look her in the eye.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed and looked up at a blonde teenage girl who had followed the child in.

She shrugged and cracked her gum. "Mom called. I have to go home early."

"So you brought a… three year old to a bar?" Dean asked and Meg sighed in exasperation. Almost ignoring the conversation, Castiel couldn't tear his eyes away from the tiny girl who was wrapping herself around Meg's upper body, a stuffed toy unicorn held close between them. He'd forgotten to breath around Meg and now he wasn't sure he could move a muscle in fear he might ruin this. Blue eyes held Castiel's gaze for a moment and stared shyly at him. He could only stare back, wanting to smile but suddenly not knowing how.

Nyx.

"It's fine, Beth. Go." Meg's eyes were already on the child in her arms. "So, what did you do?"

"Nothin'." Her eyes went away from Castiel to glance at Dean.

"I know you, kiddo. What happened?"

"She's mean." Nyx glared at where the babysitter was leaving the room. "Her eyes go black. Don't like her."

"Baby, people's eyes don't go black."

Dean glanced at Castiel, nodded, and slipped off the bar stool to follow the girl out without another word. Knowing he didn't need to say anything.

Castiel barely noticed him. His eyes were on the small dark haired girl who was chattering away to her mother. Meg carried her around and the girl's head turned towards him abruptly again when she saw him still sitting close by.

She pointed at him. "Who?"

"Customer, Nyx. Remember?" Meg set her down on the counter. "Stay still, be good for two seconds. I'll call Josh and we can go home early."

The girl nodded and swung her legs, watching as Meg dug through her bag for her phone. But slowly Nyx looked over at Castiel and he could barely tear his eyes away from her.

"Hi," she whispered shyly.

Castiel looked back down at the bar and shuddered a little. She managed to scoot forward and climb over onto the stool beside him.

"You look sad."

"No. You just remind me of someone," he said and the girl tilted her head. It took her a moment to understand.

"You a daddy?"

He smiled wistfully. "Something like that."

She spun on her chair before she rose on her knees to look him in the eye. "Don't have one."

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling as if she had struck him. Her voice had been clear but he'd noticed the bit of sadness there too, something that sounded too mature for a child. Her hands went to either side of his face and his eyes popped open to stare at her, realizing she had moved to sit on the bar in front of him. She stared back, for a moment no longer just a child. Her fingers smoothed down his face, patting at his stubbled cheeks curiously.

" Nyx," she blurted out, tongue tripping over her childish lisp, and he realized she wanted him to say his name.

"Clarence," he lied as he looked into her blue eyes.

"No. You're not. You lyin'." She frowned. Reaching over the bar, she picked up her stuffed toy and held it out to him. "See. That's Clarence."

"Nyx!" Setting her phone down, Meg came back and scooped her up over the counter. "Leave him alone."

"Castiel!" Nyx declared, pointing at him. Castiel stared at her and then at Meg. She stuttered a little, her brow wrinkling as if she was struggling to remember. Then she recovered with a shrug and roll of her eyes.

"Come on, little monster, you can colour for a while and leave him alone." Swinging her daughter into a fireman's hold, Castiel listened to Nyx's loud giggling as Meg carried her to the other end of the bar. Every happy sound felt as if they were knives cutting into him and he stared at the counter, shuddering.

"Father, what have I done," he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Meg giving the little girl crayons and paper, before she went to serve two men that had come in after Dean had left. With a desperation he hadn't felt in months, he downed his beer and started on Dean's. Part of him wished he could still feel that heady numbness it should have brought. When he'd been human, it had been surprising that it had only taken one or two to get him drunk. Now? Not even a buzz.

He forced himself to drink slower, wanting to suddenly drag out the time he had allowed himself. Half an hour passed as he sat at the bar, listening to Meg talk to Nyx and sometimes ignore the flirting of the men getting drunk at the table behind him. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head. He wanted to move, to say something that could get Meg to stand in front of him and talk, even if she stared at him strangely and treated him as a drunk.

A tiny tug on his coat made him jump a little in his seat before he looked down to see Nyx standing beside him, holding her crayons and papers. She smiled and then started climbing up onto Dean's barstool beside him. He reached out to help her, worried she would fall, and she held onto his hand for a second before she was able to sit. Her small fingers clenched around his large palm and he remembered when those fingers had held one of his fingers so tight. The trust in the gesture was startling, even when she let him go.

"I drew you!" she said happily. Castiel stared at the drawing she had made. It was a stick figure with two scratchy wings and a circle meant to be a halo. Childish and in red crayon but it made him stare.

"I look like that?" he asked carefully. Did she actually see wings and a glow about him?Did he actually frown that much?

Nyx chewed on her lower lip. She looked at it then up at him thoughtfully. Her dark hair swished before her face before she nodded. Castiel took the paper and stared at it. Judging by the smaller figure in the corner of the large construction paper, she'd drawn herself as well with smoky lines.

"Can I have this?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he felt that impulse; it shouldn't be something an angel would ask for. But something in her delighted grin made him glad he had. Finally able to smile back, he waited for her to get another piece of paper and start drawing again before he folded up the one he had and tucked it in his inner pocket.

She was talking aloud to herself, to some imaginary friend he thought, and he found himself wanting to ask questions. But he couldn't think of what to say. So he contented himself with watching her draw strange things.

"She likes you." Meg's voice snapped him out of it and he looked around to see her standing just between them, leaning over Nyx's shoulder to look at what she was drawing. "She's usually shy with strangers."

Something in her nearness made him realize he was far more out of control than he thought he could be after nearly four years. Her hair brushed his shoulder and he watched her profile intently as she leaned over further. His fingers twitched on the bar and he quickly grasped a beer bottle to keep from reaching out.

"She's…" He searched for a word that wouldn't come across as creepy. "Very sweet."

Meg nodded and looked the drawing the child was making.

"Nyx, what's this?" she asked. Nyx had been drawing a face, though her scratches barely made it a face, and she had filled in black eyes and fangs. It was a strange picture for a child.

"Lev…Lev…" Nyx gave a frustrated sound when she couldn't figure out the word and shrugged. She changed her crayons around and started drawing flowers instead. Castiel still stared at Meg more than the drawing, absorbing the familiar look of her so close. Trying to see if there was anything under the surface.

He would have missed it if she hadn't turned to face him suddenly. No human would ever see it, not even a demon or angel who didn't know what to look for. It was so small, so insignificant.

A crack.

Under the disguise of a human soul glowing out of her there was a hair line crack down the surface. Just under it he could see a darkness and thought for a second he saw her face flicker a little. It made him stare at her and not know what to say.

Meg frowned at him. "You… you like staring, huh?" She walked around him over the bar and he stared at her, still hearing Nyx muttering to herself. He tried to make himself look away but he saw her curiosity and met it with his own.

"I'm sorry."

"No problem. So you and Henry aren't together, are you?" she asked. "Or you and his 'brother'." She quoted that word and Castiel sighed.

"No."

"Just sayin'. Seems like a lot of good looking ones around here are…"

"We're not." Castiel glanced at Nyx's drawing to avoid Meg's curious look.

"Just passing through then?" she asked and he nodded. "Not much to see in this town."

"I leave tonight," he said and he lowered his voice. "It's for the best."

Unwittingly, his eyes were drawn back to Nyx and then up to Meg. She tilted her head at him and he held her stare, wondering if she recognized anything about him. Her lips parted a little and her gaze wandered over all of him from his hands to his face. She seemed to be fighting to find the words to say something. But before she could manage to think of something, her eyes darted behind him as the conversation behind them grew louder and drunker.

"Nyx, behave," she warned the little girl and headed back to where the other men were sitting. Nyx huffed and handed Castiel another drawing. He looked at it and then at her.

"What is this? A cloud?"

She looked at him as if he was stupid. "Bee."

"Oh." He turned it around and nodded as if he could see it. "Yes, it is."

Nyx gave him a look as if she wasn't sure if he was stupid or not, but then she shrugged and started drawing again. Feeling awkward, he looked at his beer and almost prayed for Dean to come back and order him to leave. He wasn't sure he could get himself to leave the bar otherwise.

"Come on, sweetheart," a gruff voice said behind him. "You can't wear that and not expect me to want to get a taste…"

He heard a large hand slapping flesh and twisted around on his seat. Nyx barely flinched as he stood up, ready to attack. She just continued to draw.

Looking tiny between the two men trying to keep her at their table, Meg dodged another ass slap and grabbed one man's wrist in her hand. She flipped him around her onto the table and wrenched his head back, slamming his head into the wood. His friend surged up, raising a fist. Meg's spiky heel caught him in the solar plexus and he went down, choking on his breath as she spun around. Half-kneeling on him, her dark eyes flickered dangerously.

"Stay down!" she snapped as she lifted her fist and the man behind her grabbed at her wrist. Castiel heard the smack of his fist hitting her jaw and she sagged a bit. With one last check on Nyx, who seemed unbothered by the sounds, he launched forward and blocked another slap aimed at Meg's face. He took a blow to his side for his trouble but barely felt it, trying to see if she was hurt.

Meg shoved him out of the way and he saw her hand come out. Her fist cracked against the larger man's jaw and sent him flying over the table. Ignoring their shouts, she grabbed one's wallet he'd left on the table, fished out some money, and then slapped him in the face with it.

"Get the hell out of here," she snarled at the two men, giving the one a kick in his ass to get him moving. They stumbled out, half-drunk anyway and cursing at her.

Meg shook out her stinging hand and turned around, bumping into Castiel. He looked at her, backing up a little as he took in the fresh bruise high on her cheek. As if it cost her something, she shrugged. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He saw the broken flesh of her knuckle where her attacker's teeth had cut. "Your hand is…"

He reached out to heal her and then hesitated. Meg stared at his hovering hand suspiciously and he lowered it, getting out of her way.

"Just need some ice, that's all. When Josh gets back, he'll bitch but that's the usual." She went around the other side of the bar and looked at where Nyx was drawing. "Right, kid?"

"Right!" Nyx said happily as she coloured another bee.

Meg gave a half smile that made Castiel stare at her and then suddenly she was staring back at him. Realizing that he was alone with them completely, with Meg's attention focussed on him, didn't help his nerves. He had stayed too long already.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Call it even at six." Meg was running the broken skin of her knuckles under the cold water and Castiel stared as he fished around for what bills he had left. It was natural, angelic instinct, he told himself, to want to heal any injuries.

It was not angelic the reason why he knew he couldn't risk touching her.

When he looked down at Nyx, she was staring up at him, chewing on the paper corner thoughtfully as she stared at him. "Bye," she finally said, sniffling a bit.

Castiel smiled at her. "Goodbye." He glanced over his shoulder to see Meg watching him. "Thank you."

"No problem," she said, tossing her hair out of her eyes and turning back to bandaging her knuckles. Castiel dragged his eyes over her and then headed out the door, knowing if he just flew off Nyx would notice. It took him longer than it should have to get out the door. He grasped the door tight, nearly crushing the metal bracket in his grip, and stood for a moment, staring outside and hearing Nyx's chatter.

But he found the strength to leave.

Not noticing the way Meg's hands were starting to shake.

---

Linda Tran was not a fan of Arkansas. She did not like the heat or the humidity in the summer and how quiet it was in the winter. Three years hadn't changed that. But she'd been willing to help the Winchesters in exchange for them keeping Kevin safe. Following Sam into town, she'd found Meg's old car and knew she had probably gone to the bar. Sam had disappeared apparently, which was an accomplishment with a very memorable Impala, and she'd decided that maybe she could just take the time to walk through the stores that lined the street.

She was turning left towards a tourist booth when she banged into someone. Rough and calloused hands grabbed her and held her still.

"Sorry I…" When she looked up through the afternoon sun, she gaped at the scruffy, dark haired man in dusty clothing staring back at her. Gaunt cheeks, hallowed out eyes and hair that flopped over tired eyes, Kevin Tran didn't resemble anything close to what he had been a few years ago. His eyes were blood shot with deep purple circles underneath them but what worried her was the exhausted way he swayed on his feet.

But when he grinned she saw her son in that look.

"Hey Mom."

---

Sitting in the Impala down the street, wedged between two transports, Sam watched thoughtfully as the Trans started down the street towards the bar. Kevin rarely contacted them anymore; not for information or for help. He was on his own, he'd yelled at Dean, and it was better that way. Dean hadn't argued though Sam had known that he wanted to. So when he wandered, they'd thought they'd find ways to track him. But he'd fallen through the cracks easily. It was already hard enough to keep track of everyone they had to try to protect.

Sam checked his phone again and found a message telling him to go to the south of town. To bring a shovel.

Which meant only bad things, Sam was sure.

---

The blonde woman was prey. It was the best way to explain how she felt as she watched the woman and a handsome dark haired man play with their children. It was a family, Meg thought, as they helped the little boy colour as another infant boy slept in his carrier. She was dreaming again but at least the scenery had changed.

When she looked at her hands, she saw that they were massive and work rough, flannel pulled to her wrists. A quick glance at the mirror let her see a man of Native descent staring back at her. But the face didn't shock her.

She never felt like she belonged in the first place. Dreaming that she was a man wasn't out of the ordinary.

When her eyes clicked black, she jerked and looked down at her coffee. With the suddenness of dreams, the crowd was suddenly gone from the diner and she was alone. Except for a man and a woman in the corner, their mouths almost fused together. The passionate kissing made her stomach turn for a reason other than embarrassment. As if there was something in the kissing that meant more.

When her head turned, the man in the couple was standing beside her and the woman was stumbling away.

"Daughter." As if the body meant nothing to what she was inside.

"Why am I here?" she asked, her body's voice gruff and coarse.

"Just sealed the deal with that lovely lovely Diana. So to follow through… I need you to kill her husband," he said bluntly, grinning at her indulgently. Like a parent giving his favourite child a treat.

"Why?"

"Because I told you to. That is what you do, right? Obey your Father." He nodded to where the woman was slipping away through the door and his grin remained wicked. "He's the cook in the back. Likes to smack her around even though she's got a little girl back home. Poor thing. She wanted to be an actress but I told her that her kid could be an actress instead, that we can get her to LA maybe. Just didn't say what would happen to her."

His eyes flicked to yellow and he stared at Meg. "Kill him. That seals her deal."

He was gone in the blink of an eye and Meg stared at the knife that had appeared in her hands.

In a strange, fast forward motion, the dream progressed through the night. Fast and in a blur until the cook finally came out from the back. He collected dishes and eyed her suspiciously. Meg waited until he was behind her. Should feel wrong, to stalk her prey like this, to want to kill.

But she found it strangely familiar, exciting.

He had his back to her when she grabbed her coffee mug and twisted to slam it onto his head. Dropping like a stone, he fought her weakly when Meg pounced. The heavy man she was kept him down easily with just the slightest pressure and he screamed as she buried the knife in his stomach. Humming lowly, she jerked it up into his heart in a jagged line.

"Meg?"

The voice intruding on her delight was followed by a flash of light. Her tongue suddenly felt swollen, her head pounding as she twitched and struggled to finish the job. Even when he broke into a death rattle, her attention was on the shadowy door, where cracks of light from outside were shining through.

But the light flickered again. Beckoning her towards the shadows.

"Meg?"

When she managed to open her eyes, the overhead lights of the bar made her wince and shut them again. Everything burned and she groaned, rolling her head to the side. The back of her head felt as if she'd been hit by something and her mouth tasted bloody. "Easy easy, you took a tumble again," Linda Tran's voice was soothing. "Nothing to be scared of."

"Nyx?" Meg whispered. It was hard to remember what happened. She remembered looking at Nyx as her daughter had shown her something and then nothing. Even the dream was fading now.

"Right here. She found me outside and we got to you in time."

Meg closed her eyes and Linda pressed the cold cloth against her forehead. "Was it another memory or just a bad dream? You hit the ground hard by the look of it."

Thinking it was a memory, even a twisted one, gave her the strangest urge to run. Ignoring her protesting body, Meg pushed herself into a sitting position and cradled the back of her head. It felt sticky with blood from where she must have hit it and her throat ached. "We?" she managed.

"You've looked better," Kevin's familiar voice made her open her eyes to see him sitting at the bar. Nyx was in his lap, her blue eyes wide with worry and she was chewing on her lower lip as she stared. Meg smiled weakly at her. Her daughter had seen worse in her short life with these strange spells of her mother's and she knew to just find Linda to make it better. Meg wasn't sure what it was that Linda did or what she gave her, but it tended to keep the episodes at bay and the dreams would leave.

A slight movement to her left made her glance up to see the man in the tan overcoat staring at her.

"You?" She had to blink to see him clearly. "I thought you left."

"I forgot something," he said though his eyes darted left as if it was a lie. Not wanting to argue, Meg shut her eyes. "I saw your daughter and these people running back. I thought perhaps those men had come back here after I left."

With her eyes closed, Meg didn't see the fierce look Linda gave Castiel.

He ignored it and knelt beside her, gingerly reaching out to touch the back of her head. "You won't need stitches but it will hurt for a while."

"Had worse," Meg said, her voice sleepy with the usual exhaustion that followed these spells.

"You've had them long?" he asked clinically.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No. Just… I've seen this before."

Linda cleared her throat and held out a mug of water for her. As she downed it to get rid of the strange sulphur taste in her mouth, Meg felt warmth at the back of her head as his palm touched the small wound. It didn't hurt and it left her feeling numb where the ache should be. The fingers sifting through her dark hair were gentle as the swelling lost its heat and the headache left. When her eyes lazily lifted up to meet his blue gaze fixed on her face, something shifted. His touch was not sexual or anything more than gentle.

But it was familiar. Intimate…

"Let's lock this place up. Josh will have to deal on his own tonight." Linda reached over and took her hands to help her stand, leaving Castiel kneeling on the ground for a moment.

"We should get you home," Kevin said and he looked at the little girl in his arms. "Right, Nyxie? We'll get you ice cream. I'm pretty sure Mom has chocolate at home."

The little girl nodded eagerly. Kevin grinned down at her and lifted her up onto his shoulders before passing her the stuffed unicorn. She was giggling at a joke he told her and when they headed for the door Meg had to smile. Kevin was the child's favourite person by far when he visited his mother. Made her a little grateful after one of her spells that he so easily took over.

Like the man beside her, his face always tugged at her memory. The way wearing a leather jacket, seeing blood or smelling smoke did. Sometimes the strangest things pulled at her but never did an actual memory return.

As she struggled into her jacket, she swayed dizzily before grabbing her side-bag close to her. With a warning look that told her to take it easy, Linda locked up behind her and flipped the sign to closed. Half way through the door, she swayed a bit more and then she was held still. A hand gripped her elbow to steady her and she unconsciously pulled free from it when she found her balance again. She staggered a few steps, following Kevin and Nyx as they chatted on the way down the street.

Behind her, she heard muttering voices as the man and Linda spoke. Her eyes were on the buildings and the cars on the street, taking it in with a drugged feeling of being displaced. It was weird how angry he sounded with Linda and not the reverse. She stopped to lean on a car and brushed her hand through her hair. It took a moment to feel right again, it always did, but as she leaned there, she felt Linda pass by, grumbling angrily. Grinning to herself, Meg didn't realize Castiel was beside her again until she opened her eyes again.

The angel was content just to watch her as he waited.

He ran his eyes over her, barely able to hide the way he lingered over her. His thorny caretaker; it was almost easy to picture that dark power of her, the terrible demonic features that he'd learned to love. He could see it simmering under her surface as the spell began to crack even further under the pressure of his Grace he had used. It hadn't been much power but the crack was widening because of it. Whatever dream she had been under was not a dream but a memory, a way of the spell dying but still fighting the inevitable.

She fixed her coat and didn't seem to notice the way he looked at the fragile curve to her neck, the way he itched to touch her. He kept his hands in his coat pockets to resist the urge. It was curious how fast and how sudden he had gone from sullen to hopeful.

Knowing this day maybe just be a passing moment was something he ignored.

Part of him wanted to absorb as much as he could before he buried this away and pretend he didn't care that it would never happen again.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. "Why did you come back to the bar? Not like we know each other."

"I wanted to be sure you were unhurt."

"Aren't you just the sweetest?" When she saw him actually smile at her teasing, Meg's dark lined eyes squinted at him. "You don't talk like you're from around here. And I'm fine. I've been beating up the bar guys since I could remember and I still get those seizures. They aren't severe."

When she turned to go, Castiel leaned back against the brick wall of the building. "How much of it do you remember? Of your life?"

Meg jerked to a stop.

"What did you say?" She pirouetted slowly on her heel and took a few steps towards him.

"Your memory. You don't remember much, do you?"

Her face closed up. "How did you know?"

Guilt crossed his face for just a second before he reminded himself that this really wasn't Meg. This was a human version, a shadow of what she really was. Much of her was the same but what remained different was what needed protecting. She wouldn't know what he was or what he knew and that could be for the best.

"I figured it out. I knew that you seemed upset when your friend asked if was about a memory. I knew…"

If he thought he was going to get the slightest hint of gratitude for his concern, he forgot who she really was. Immediately she was defensive, not liking how much a total stranger was seeing about her.

"Well, take your figuring out and fuck off." She spun around and started off down the street, her heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Ahead of her, Kevin was still holding Nyx and his eyes caught Castiel's. With a shake of his head, the angel disappeared down the street and left them alone.

"Who the fuck did he think he was?" Meg demanded as she came up beside them. "Saying he knew anything about me. I don't even know a damn thing about me!"

"Children present," Linda said and Meg eyed Kevin.

"Sorry, kiddo."

Ignoring the bad joke, he sighed and passed Nyx over to her, holding the stuffed toy for her. "She's not feeling well. I think the excitement has gotten to her."

Meg cuddled the child to her chest and felt her sleepily grab at her necklace. "Come on, baby girl, let's get you home to ice cream and a nap."

"Want that man to come."

"I'm not sure he'd want to," Meg joked and Linda choked on what she wanted to say. Balancing Nyx on her hip, Meg followed them back up the street to where Linda had parked. She was in no condition to drive anyway. Nyx burrowed her tiny body into Meg's leather jacket for warmth.

"I like him."

"Yeah, baby? Why's that?" Meg asked, deciding to humour her. Nyx was toying with the charms on her necklace like she always did.

"He's pretty. He glows."

"He is pretty but I don't think he glows, Nyxie." Meg paused when her daughter lifted her head a bit off her shoulder and looked at her. Nyx was notorious for not trusting people, especially men. "Why do you like him so much?"

"Nice to me. He sees me."

Meg caught on fast to her daughter's childish phrasing. It was perfectly normal, for her, to talk to her nearly four year old daughter like this. What Nyx tended to understand was more advanced than people gave her credit for; they often misinterpreted her shyness for childish ignorance. But she seemed to be incredibly smart and she didn't often like people. Those she did like tended to get the full force of her attention, which was why she loved Kevin and Linda so much. What few men or women Meg had met either looked through Nyx or paid too much smothering attention to her, both as ways to try to get to Meg's bed. Both ways got them the door.

Nyx's intuition about people was pretty uncanny and Meg preferred to stick to the occasional fling anyway. It was hard to find the desire when that innate wrongness lingered every time she tried to let go and enjoy a lover. Nothing lasted. She didn't feel normal enough anyway. Usually it ended with her kicking them out before they even really began and the feeling like she wasn't right had never really left.

"He loves me."

"Say what?" Meg eye rolled at the sudden comment. "Nyx, he knew you five minutes."

"Loves me. Like you love me."

"Kid, you can't tell that with people you just met."

She walked a few steps and Nyx tugged on her hair. "Loves you too."

Meg nearly tripped over her own feet in surprise and then sighed. "Okay, Nyxie, time for bed. You're tired."

Nyx huffed and rolled her blue eyes in impression of her mother. "He does."

"Yeah and I'll believe in unicorns."

---

"I'm going to tear out your throat and drink your blood!" the demon shrieked. Standing in front of her, Dean stared at the trapped demon. It hadn't been hard. It was a young one, likely fresh from the Pit and a little stupid with overconfidence and new power. All it had taken was the right trap and she was stuck in the salt lines. Now all she could do was pace to the limits of the circle in the angry way of a caged animal.

"That's more of a vamp thing to try. Go with something more demonic and I'd believe it," Dean said as he leaned against the tree and watched her. Before she could respond, the Impala roared up the dirt road near the old building and the demon stared at the car with open recognition.

"Winchesters!" Her black eyes locked on Dean with growing terror and he grinned.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Ignoring her spitting insults, he waited for Sam to get out of the car, quickly check the surroundings, and come up beside him before continuing. "So why were you in Heber Springs? Can't tell me you've been riding that girl for long. She still has that fresh meat look."

"It's a free country."

"Not for demons." He stood across from her and unsheathed Ruby's Knife. "Care to share why you were pulling babysitter duty with a kid? Not what a demon would normally do."

"Maybe we're expanding operations," she said sarcastically.

"Slim pickings in the Pit? Or is it some sort of war going on?"

The black eyes turned back to more innocent blue. "What war?"

"Cute." Sam watched her impatiently. "Why are you babysitting?"

"Why do you two care what I do with a little kid?" Her eyes rolled to the sky. "I took this chick when she was going for a walk in the park. Kid was an accessory. Screamed her damn head off when she saw me and I just can't stand kids. But if I killed her…"

"Too much attention, right," Dean finished for her. "Why Heber Springs?"

She twitched a little, not about to answer, and Sam pulled out a bottle of holy water. "Try it."

"Crowley said there was a new type of Cambion out there. Anyone who is available is to look for her. Him and Abaddon wanted most of the soldiers in Hell but the rest of us…"

"Search and destroy."

She grinned wickedly. "Like killing a little kid is such a hard thing."

Dean smirked. "I'm glad you said that."

Before Sam could stop him, he slammed the blade into her chest, watching the sparks fly and the demon chortle in surprise. Sam flinched and looked away, rubbing at his chest a little. As the demon sagged lifelessly, he got out of the way of her falling body and gave Dean a look.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Look, we can't risk exorcising and we can't risk any demon coming here. Buys us some time." Dean wiped the knife on his jeans and as he sheathed it again he said loudly, "Right, Cas?"

The angel sighed heavily as he fluttered in, looking annoyed to have been discovered. "Yes, exactly."

"Doesn't make it right." Sam sighed and looked at the body. "We don't even know if Crowley could find her or Meg. They've been safe for three years now."

Castiel looked ready to say something, so Dean nudged him hard. "Spit it out."

"What I used to hide Meg… it's cracking. Sooner or later, it may crack entirely with the right pressure."

"From Crowley?"

"Or from me, from anyone with the right amount of power. Just even having an angel here seems to be affecting Meg now. And we only met for just over an hour." Missing Dean's curious look, Castiel looked out at the road. "We need to be more careful. I'll… try my best to keep far away, make it look like I was searching for the Metatron or someone else."

"We leave too fast, it's going to draw attention. We can ward up Linda's house, try to keep them from being seen. But we'll have to think of something. We've had them three years here and never saw the demons even noticing something different."

"Now we've got demons out, monsters starting to show up in places we don't always see them." Sam stared at the girl's body. "Something must be taking notice. Not just Crowley. Abaddon leashed him pretty tight lately."

Castiel nodded, ready to wing off when Dean cleared his throat. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at the brothers.

"But, Cas, it was good to see them, wasn't it?" Dean asked. "For a minute there, I saw the old you again."

Castiel nodded. "It was." He hesitated, not sure how to continue. "Thank you… for giving me that time with them."

Before they could accept his thanks, he was gone, the demon's dead vessel gone with him. Dean looked at Sam and gave an almost sad smile.

"Something tells me that that won't be enough."

Sam nodded. "It had to happen some day."

"Just hope its not something that is going to backfire."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Because that never happens."

---

The bartender wasn't sure what to make of the young man sitting in front of him. He had been pouring drinks when, he was sure, this new customer appeared out of no where. He looked almost too young to be drinking but he smiled so winningly that he had poured him a beer anyway. A crisp fifty was laid across the bar and he realized it was a bribe immediately.

"I'm looking for someone." The eyes flashed yellow for just a heartbeat before they were blue. "And I hear that you saw a young man in here earlier."

"I see a lot of travellers, going up to the springs," Josh tried to deflect. The man put another fifty on the bar. The lights overhead flickered a little

"These boys are very special." He dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a photo of two handsome men, likely in their thirties,. They were hardly boys, to the bartender, and the way the photo had been taken was clear that they'd been unaware they were watched.

"Yeah, I recognize 'em. They show up every few months. Stay up at the B&B house run by that Ms. Banner. Nice lady but she scares most of us." Josh looked at him nervously. "Why are you looking for them? You don't look like a cop."

"Oh, I'm not. We just go way back," was the calm answer. The grin though was strangely happy. "You didn't see anyone else with them?"

"No one I recognized."

"That's the best news I've heard all day." Blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "You might want to get out of here in about five minutes."

Josh gave him a puzzled look. "What? Why?"

The eyes snapped to his face. "Because I need something to call some old friends with. I'm giving you a running head start." Reaching under the bar for his shotgun, the bartender rested his hand on the trigger. The way the young man counted showed that he meant it. "One thousand one… one thousand two…"

But one look in the swirling colours of those strange eyes had Josh frozen, even when a blade slashed out and slit his throat.