A/N: Woah! Quarterly exams. They were upon me last week. Yuck! Can't wait until midterms...ha...ha...

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me this week! Shoutout to claraoswald8, BonanzaRocks, Kas3y, Charlie N. Perfuro, sammysmissingshoe, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, Jenna, and in-silent-seas for reviewing. Don't go anywhere, because this isn't over anytime soon. And now, the thing you've been waiting for...dun dun dun...

-Jaq

Sam swallowed hard, his fists clenching almost by themselves. Ignoring Dean, who continued to walk away, Sam entered his bedroom and opened his laptop. Wearily, he opened a new tab and began to search. He looked for signs- of the apocalypse, murders, anything that was highly unusual.

Of course, since the angels had fallen, a lot of 'highly unusual' stuff had gone down. A lot of it was good- Sam found at least one case of people that had suddenly reformed and were now living helpful, peaceable lives, but the majority was bad. Within fifteen minutes, he discovered an article that described a murder victim as being killed 'stabbed through the heart by some sort of triangular-bladed knife.'

It could be any angel, not just Michael or Lucifer. And that was the problem. Thousands of angels were on earth now, all vying for vessels and (from what Sam could gather from his knowledge of Heaven's politics) probably power as well. People were dying, the press was going crazy looking for a serial killer, and the only people who knew the truth couldn't do anything about it.

Running his hands through his hair, Sam closed his laptop and wondered, for the umpteenth time, how he was even alive. The Trials had been designed to kill him, he knew that- everything had led to it. Even though Dean had given him some BS about a miraculous healing, Sam was having trouble believing it. He didn't think (or maybe he didn't want to think) that Dean would go so far as to make another deal, but...it was something to consider.

As soon as he had the thought, Sam felt guilty. Dean had promised not to do that. He wouldn't, not after what happened last time. Didn't his older brother at least deserve some credit?

Sighing, Sam leaned back on the bed. His room was sparse. Despite Dean's love of the bunker, Sam had never really adjusted to it. He had never felt like he had a home, somewhere he wasn't going to leave in a month or two, and it was hard to break the habit.

All of a sudden, he felt sleepy. It was barely midnight, and he'd slept well the night before, however, so he was a little confused. His pillows felt soft, and the room was pleasantly warm, and the slight noises all faded away into blissful silence.

Sam fought to stay awake, anxious now. He struggled to keep his eyelids open, and some part of him recognized that he should call out, but it never quite formed into words.

He was losing the battle, and within seconds, he was asleep.

-:-

Lucifer smiled and walked out of Sam's room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen in which Kevin was currently sitting, drinking water.

"Hey, Sammm," Kevin slurred, looking up.

Lucifer nodded, walking through without looking at the young man. Kevin's eyes followed him, and the prophet spoke again. "Hey, what did Dean tell you? On the phone?"

Silence. Kevin frowned, apparently not expecting an answer.

"Tell Dean I'll be back," Lucifer said instead, making for the door.

"Sure."

Lucifer smiled again, reveling in his vessel as he walked through the door. It had been too long...

-:-

"He said what?"

"He said he'd be back! What the hell do you want me to do, detain him? Dean, what aren't you telling me?" Kevin's drunken state had almost worn off, but he wasn't hungover. Yet.

Dean breathed in deeply, not saying anything. It was possible Sam had left, that he needed a walk. At three A.M. It was also possible that Ezekiel wasn't a good guy, and that Dean's brother had been hijacked. And Sam wouldn't just leave like that, especially not when he knew that Michael and Lucifer were free. So Dean was rightfully paranoid. Especially since Sam hadn't answered his phone calls.

"Nothing. Just- damn it, Kevin! Why do we always have to save the damn world?"

Kevin shrugged, almost glaring at Dean. "I'm not sure. But it'd be nice if you let me know what was going on half the time."

Dean glared back and stalked off, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna try his cell one more time."

"Whatever."

Irritated, Dean punched in the number once more. It rang four times, and then picked up. Relief washed through Dean, replaced almost immediately with anger. "Sam," he almost growled, "what the hell?"

"I was talking a walk, Dean," came the exasperated voice. "Look, I just needed a breather. It's- you don't understand."

"Damn right I don't! If anything, you should be staying in the bunker, where you're protected against angels!"

There was a sigh, and then the call disconnected. Dean swore, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Stupid Sam. Kid always picked the worst times to go- go do yoga or some crap, or go for a run, or take a damn walk- really, it was infuriating.

It wouldn't do to get paranoid, he supposed. He could chew Sam out about it when the kid got back. If he got back.

-:-

Lucifer cracked his neck. The man next to him- well, the man's body- lay on the ground, blood shining on the grass. Dipping a finger in the blood, the fallen angel drew an intricate pattern on the man's exposed chest- a summoning spell.

Within seconds, a woman appeared next to him, her fiery hair loose down her back. A smile formed on her face, contrasting grotesquely with the blood running down her shirt. "Milord," she said, dipping in a small curtsy.

"Abbadon." Lucifer smiled as well. "It would appear that my dearest brother has not found a vessel yet. As that is the case, it seems like we ought to cause a little damage."

"Of course. I live for destruction."

"I know you do."

"So, what's it going to be?"

Lucifer gave a cold smile. "I promised Dean Winchester something, a while ago. Do you remember the Croatoan virus?"

-:-

Castiel kept walking. Humanity-well, being human at least- was painful. His feet hurt, he was thirsty, and the slight injuries he had suffered in the crash throbbed persistently. No wonder humans took to things- alcohol, sex, gambling- so often to forget the present.

But the bunker was more than sixty miles away. At the rate he was going, Castiel estimated that it would take him nearly three days to get there, assuming he could find something to eat and a place to sleep along the way. He thought about calling Dean and asking to be picked up, but he didn't want to cause any trouble.

It was going to be a long day.

A/N: I'm sorry, I know that that wasn't the most exciting chapter ever (or the longest). Next one will have more action, I promise! Plus, the next one won't be as short. And the next chapter has angst all around, yippee! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Please drop a review if you've got a minute to spare. Have a nice day!

-Jaq