"He thinks he can control it."

Zephaniah looked to her side. Sam was standing next to her, also watching Dean drink his coffee and read the newspaper in the morning. He hadn't had a drink since she came home.

"I was kind of hoping it was me," Zephaniah confessed. "The not drinking and the not eating crap food. The happy mood."

Sam squeezed her shoulder. "It is you though, Zeph. Dean thinks he can control The Mark and he wants to do it so you'll stay."

Dean got up from his chair and set the mug in the sink. "I can hear you two. This has nothing to do with you, Zephaniah. The point is, I have control over The Mark."

"Right," Sam said, raising his brow and moving around Zephaniah to get into the kitchen to make breakfast for himself.

Zephaniah followed Dean out of the kitchen. "You can't do this for me, Dean, as much as I wish you could. The Mark is – it's the The Mark. You and I are not stronger than The Mark."

Dean roughly grabbed her arm, and his eyes went cold for a moment. Zephaniah gasped a little, immediately backing away from Dean. He recovered and dropped her arm, apologizing quietly.

"You see," she said, "you're not as in control as you think, Dean."

She disappeared into her room then, locking the door behind her. Zephaniah forced back the tears brimming in her eyes and rubbed her arm. There was a good change she would bruise, but she couldn't think about that right now. She had an email to answer.

From: undergroundanswers
To:
zephij
Subject: Meeting

Ms. Jordan,

I can meet you in Israel at your convenience. I have a measure of time, but neither of us have a bounty it. I encourage you not to delay our meeting for too long. If the situation is as dire as you make it sound to be, the darkness is not far behind.

Sincerely,
J. Shamayim

Zephaniah stared at the screen. She had received the email almost two weeks ago, and it had changed the direction of her research from ridding Dean of The Mark, to what this J. Shamayim could possibly mean by "the darkness." She had exhausted every possible research avenue, except for two. She wouldn't risk the relic by furthering her inquiry, but she couldn't meet with Shamayim without knowing what they were all walking into if she decided not to go after the relic.

Her other option wasn't one she was exactly keen on taking advantage of, but it was the only option she had left.

With a deep breath, Zephaniah closed her eyes. "Castiel, I need to talk to you. I need it to be when we're just the two of us, when no one else can hear. It's – it's important."

Knowing that her request was not likely to get her any immediate answers, Zephaniah took a deep breath, closed her laptop for now, and went to find Dean.

Dean was staring a tumbler half-full – or was it half-empty? – of bourbon. The melting ice was already sure to leave a ring on the table in the war room, but he didn't care about that. He only cared right now about the look in Zephaniah's eyes when he had grabbed her arm that morning.

He had felt The Mark begin to awaken the moment he grew angry over what she had said. You and I are not stronger than The Mark. Perhaps it hadn't angered him so much as it had hurt Dean to hear her say that, but he was a product of his upbringing. He knew only one way to deal with his pain, and that was usually anger.

So here he sat now, staring at that tumbler of bourbon. If he wasn't stronger than The Mark, if they weren't stronger than The Mark, what was the point in staying away?

"Don't drink that," Zephaniah told him, sliding the glass her direction and downing a large portion of its contents. She took a seat across from him, staring at the glass and, it seemed, refusing to look at him.

Dean crossed his arms. "Why shouldn't I?"

Zephaniah took a deep breath. "Because I was wrong to say what I said. I don't know if we're stronger than The Mark, Dean, but I know that I want us to be. I mean, look at everything we have been through. You were a demon and I couldn't stay away from you. I didn't want to. And I don't want to now."

"I don't know if I can control it forever."

"We both know you won't. Cain lived with it quietly for thousands of years, century after century. He still succumbed to the monster The Mark wanted him to be." She stood up, downed the rest of the bourbon, and went over to where he sat. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders best she could, and kissed his cheek. "What I do know, though, is that I'll be by you every step of the way. Until the day I die, no matter how crazy things get, you and I are going to stick this thing out together."

Dean turned his head to face her. "And what if I hurt you? What if I'm the one who kills you?"

Zephaniah showed him a sad smile. "We both know what will happen if you or anyone else tries and succeeds to kill me. But, if it is you – I forgive you."

He pulled her into his lap, settling her head against his shoulder. With the exception of their intimate moments in the bedroom, it wasn't often that Dean and Zephaniah had affectionate moments like this. They both had learned to appreciate those moments as they came.

A couple of nights later, Zephaniah was sleeping soundly next to Dean when she heard her name, plain as day.

"Zephaniah."

She woke slowly, listened carefully, and heard the voice again. Getting out of bed, she wasn't at all affected by the chill that usually took over the bunker overnight. Padding barefoot out to the library, Zephaniah was greeted by an angel in a trench coat.

"Castiel. I was beginning to give up on you."

Castiel nodded. "My apologies. I was trying to find a moment when we could speak alone, but it became apparent that this is the only way."

"I am dreaming, then?"

"You are, but I'm really here. It's complicated." Castiel paused for a moment. "You said you needed help. I'm here to assist."

Zephaniah took a seat, sitting up straight and prepared for whatever information Castiel could give her. She told herself she was even prepared for him not to have any information.

"Castiel, is there ... the darkness. Is that a thing? Or a concept?"

The look on Castiel's face was near horrified. "Why do you ask?"

She swallowed hard. "If someone said to me that the darkness is not far behind us all – what would that mean?"

Castiel took a seat now; Zephaniah had never seen an angel in such a state of sudden unease. It was as though whatever 'the darkness' meant, Castiel already knew that neither Heaven nor Hell could stop it.

"The Darkness," Castiel said, "Is not a thing or a concept. The Darkness is a being. In the beginning, there was only The Darkness. God followed not long after. When He created the archangels, they waged a war against The Darkness, and when she was weakened, He caged The Darkness away, using The Mark as the lock and key. The Darkness cannot be killed because she balances God; they are the truest exemplification of Light and Dark, Good and Evil. The Darkness corrupted Lucifer and caused the Fall of Man."

"And all of that is encased in The Mark on Dean's arm," Zephaniah breathed out. She felt as though she would stop breathing at any moment; that her heart would give out and she would keel over. "If we destroy The Mark then, get rid of it ... what happens to The Darkness?"

"I honestly don't know."

Zephaniah nodded, slowly letting out her breath. "I've been in contact with a man in Israel who says he has a way to rid Dean of The Mark. I haven't replied yet. I needed to know about The Darkness first."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Zephaniah."

"I don't have a choice!" she exclaimed, pushing out of the chair. "You know that Josiah and all of Heaven would still come after me if I had not so blatantly refused their request. Fuck, they may still come after me again, and not be so courteous with their offer this time. The point is, Dean is not safe with me until The Mark is gone."

"That doesn't make it your responsibility to find a way to get rid of The Mark," Castiel argued.

Zephaniah turned back to him. "I don't expect you to understand. I know, Castiel, that you have done so much for me. You healed years' worth of physical wounds and scars. Dean, though, has only begun to heal a lifetime's worth of emotional wounds and scars. Without him, I may never be truly whole again. Until you know the weight of that in your life, you cannot tell me what is and is not my responsibility."

Castiel stared her down for a few moments before his shiny, silver angel blade fell from the sleeve of his coat. He held it in both hands, presenting it to her.

"In that case, you should take this with you. You're right. The angels may yet come after you. Hell could do the same. It's better that you have the extra protection. Especially since I will not be able to come if you call."

"Why not?" Zephaniah frowned.

Castiel laid a hand over her ribs. Pain seared through her torso until the reality of the room around her faded away, and she was suddenly upright in bed next to Dean, drenched in a cold sweat.

"You all right?" Dean murmured, his eyes still closed but his hands reaching out for her.

Zephaniah looked to the nightstand next to the bed and saw it; a muted gleam of an angel blade in the dim light coming from the hallway. Swallowing hard and settling back against Dean's warm body, she nodded.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

From:zephij
To:undergroundanswers
Subject: RE: Meeting

I will be in Israel three days from the date of this message. I do not wish to delay this even that long, but travel accommodations have been made for that time frame. Please let me know of more specific details as they are available.

Zephaniah

From:undergroundanswers
To:zephij
Subject: RE:RE: Meeting

Ms. Jordan,

We will find you after you have arrived.

Sincerely,

J. Shamayim

Two nights before her flight to Israel, Zephaniah approached Dean in the kitchen. She hoisted herself up on the counter and prepared for an awful reaction from him.

"I'm leaving."

Dean looked up from the dishes he had been washing, sadness and fear etched into every line on his face. "You're leaving again?"

"I am," Zephaniah confirmed, "but I'm not leaving you. I really need you to understand that. I'm not running away again. I may have found an answer for all of this, Dean, and I'll never forgive myself if I don't go after it."

Dean dried his hands and stood in front of her. He brushed the hair out of her face. "You promise you're coming back?"

The gravelly edge of his voice, the nearness of his body, and the intense stare of his green eyes ignited a familiar fire deep in Zephaniah's soul. She took Dean's face in her hands and kissed him, hard and wanting. Dean's arms went around her waist, and Zephaniah carded her fingers into his hair.

Dean picked her up from the counter, intent on taking her to the bedroom and extinguishing the fire that had started in her and spread to him. But first, he needed to hear her say it.

"Promise me you'll come back, Zeph."

Nearly breathless, she nodded. Looking him directly in the eye, she said the words he needed to hear. "I promise, I'll come back to you."

In that moment, Dean realized the reason there was no necessity of 'I love you' between Zephaniah and himself. They would always come back to each other, no matter the circumstance, and that was all the love either of them needed.