Song Remains the Same
Chapter 13 / King of Hell
"Am I going insane? My blood is boiling inside of my veins. An evil feeling attacks; my body's shaking, there's no turning back."
- Bullet for My Valentine
A Week Later
It was late at night and Alex was feeling particularly emotionally drained. She stared out of the window of the Impala at nothingwith a hard, thoughtful face. No music played—the car was silent except for the hum of the engines. The mood in the car was somber, as it should be. They had just been to Pamela Barnes' funeral. The psychic had died a couple days ago helping them save a seal from being broken, but it seemed so trivial. It seemed so pointless and stupid. The task of stopping these so-called seals was too big for them, and deep down, Alex was afraid they would fail before they even began. She tried not to think about the alarmingly fast rate that friends and fellow hunters were dying. These were dark, dark days.
Dean pulled into a motel, muttering something about needing some friggin' sleep and Sam silently went to go check them in. Dean and Alex said nothing as they waited, both lost in their own thoughts. Sam came back with their room key, and like usual, they all grabbed their stuff and went to find their room.
"Ah, home crappy home," Dean muttered, breaking the silence as they entered the dark room. Sam flipped on the lights, Alex close behind him. That was when they saw that they were not alone. The three of them stopped short at the sight of Castiel and Uriel in their motel room. Oh no, is all Alex could think.
"Ah. We've been waiting for you," Uriel said, stepping forward toward them. Alex looked from him to Castiel, who hung back. He was staring blankly ahead, unseeingly. He didn't meet her gaze, and immediately she felt that something was off. It had been a couple months, hadn't it, since she'd laid eyes on either angel…? Any time they showed up, there was trouble. But last time she'd seen him, he'd saved her life and stared at her like—well, she didn't know what like. Now he seemed subdued. Chastened maybe.
"Oh come on, guys!" Dean was protesting, dismayed to find his plans of sleeping might not reach fruition.
"You are needed," Uriel said, ignoring Dean's comment.
Dean's temper was shorter than normal. "Needed? We just got back from needed!"
One of Uriel's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Now you mind your tone with me."
"No, you mind your damn tone with us," Dean fired back hotly.
"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam explained, as if that would change Uriel's approach. Uriel's face remained blank, and Castiel switched from staring into space to staring at the ground, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze.
"You know, psychic Pamela?" Dean said acridly, attempting to jog the angels' memories. "Cas, you remember her, right? You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times." No response from Cas. "Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals," Dean continued angrily, his voice growing in timbre by the second. "So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!"
There was a short silence, and Uriel stepped forward, his stance intended to be threatening. "We raised you out of hell for our purposes," he said, as if that solved everything.
"Yeah, what were those again? What, exactly, did you want from me?" Dean asked, his tone completely insolent. Alex looked at Cas again, who was still silent and stone-faced. He'd been looking at her from the corner of his eye, and when she caught him doing that, he quickly looked away.
Uriel stepped a little closer still, his voice lowering. Beside Alex, Sam tensed. Uriel spoke through his teeth. "Start with gratitude."
"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Cas said, breaking his silence and stepping forward, seemingly attempting to pacify the rising conflict between Dean and Uriel.
"And we—" Uriel gave Castiel a pointed look, stopping the other angel in his tracks, "—don't care." Chastised, Castiel again fell silent, not acknowledging Alex's questioning stare. Uriel continued to address Dean. "Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."
"Angels can be killed?" Alex asked in surprise, attention piqued. "By what, by demons?"
"How are they doing it?" Dean asked, sounding similarly caught off guard.
Uriel let out a slow breath through his nostrils. "We don't know."
The Winchesters exchanged looks. "I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it?" Sam asked, voicing what they were all thinking. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"
"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," Uriel said icily, and drew back a bit.
"Once we find whoever it is," Castiel added.
"So what the hell is it you guys need?" Alex asked, exasperated, tired, and sick of running around in conversation circles.
"We have Alastair," Castiel said, yet again avoiding actually answering the question.
Dean smiled humorlessly. "How nice for you. He should be able to name your trigger man."
"He won't talk," Cas explained. "Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse." Alex still didn't see where the angels were going with this, and just shook her head in fatigue.
"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture," Dean said, shrugging. "I mean, you guys are out of your league."
"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel said. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."
"What?" Alex exclaimed, suddenly understanding and feeling as though they had been ambushed. Dean was slack jawed, unable to respond.
"Dean, you are our best hope," Castiel began.
Dean was shaking his head, his jaw clenched. "No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this."
Uriel, who had retreated a few steps, was now walking toward Dean. "Who said anything about asking?" he asked. And without the slightest warning, Alex was suddenly standing in a dark and cold room. In alarm Alex looked to her right, where Dean thankfully stood, just as he had a second ago. But where was Sam? They both turned around, to see Castiel and Uriel standing a few feet off.
"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, and Alex shot him a look.
"I told you we should have kept that hex bag in once piece," she hissed, receiving an irritated glance from her brother.
He leveled Castiel with a glare. "Where are we?"
Alex looked up, noticing the numerous sharp hooks that hung from the ceiling. The room was cold and clammy, like a meat locker. Castiel ignored Dean's question and walked to them, then past them, to a solid metal door that had a small, hazy glass window in it. Dean followed the angel, and Alex slowly followed suit, on guard. Through the little window in the door they could see a tall, wiry man chained to a hexacle that was erected in the middle of a devil's trap. His head lolled onto his chest, and he seemed to be panting due to pain. Alastair. He was in a different vessel than the one he'd been in last time. Next to Alex, Dean's body had gone rigid.
"This devil's trap is old Enochian," Castiel said. "He's bound completely."
Dean looked through the glass, his expression unreadable, and Alex stared at him in alarm. "You're not actually thinking about doing this?" she asked in a tense whisper, which he only acknowledged with a glance.
"Fascinating, Cas," Dean commented to the angel who stood behind him. Dean grabbed Alex by the arm, steering her along with him toward the other end of the room. Castiel watched, frowning in lack of understanding.
"Where are you going?" Uriel, who had been silently observing stepped into the Winchester's path.
"You're out of your damn mind if you think we're staying here," Dean said. "Now get out of the way," Dean demanded, at which Uriel merely blinked.
"Angels are dying, boy."
"And why, exactly, do we care?" Alex asked contemptuously.
Uriel's gaze came to rest on her. He made no attempt to disguise his sneer. "Because I say it is, imp."
"You watch the way you talk to her, chuckles," Dean said acidly, letting go of Alex and stepping a little more into Uriel's space. "And I don't care if you're all-powerful. You can't make me do this. I'm not torturing anyone else. Ever." He looked back at Castiel, who still stood by the door to Alastair's torture chamber. Dean looked as if he expected the angel to back him up or be on his side, but Cas's expression was dour.
"This is too much to ask, Dean, I know." He came forward a little. "But we have to ask it."
Dean looked utterly confounded. "No—no! If you knew what it was like, you wouldn't ask me this. Any of you!"
The room went silent. Uriel was annoyed, Castiel was tense. Alex looked to him appealingly, trying to get him to listen to her. Maybe he would. "Can't you guys find someone else for this?" She asked. Castiel finally looked at her in the eye. "I mean, huge world out there, right? There has to be someone else who can do it."
Castiel was grim. "There is no one else who can do this for us," he said, leaving her to stare at him, confounded.
"Why the hell did you bring Alex along, anyway?" Dean demanded, looking at Cas first, and then Uriel. "To make her watch this twisted little show of yours? You are some sick sons of bitches, you know that?"
Uriel smiled at Dean, as if he were amused. "She's here as leverage."
Neither Winchester missed his meaning. "You said she was protected!" Dean exclaimed in dismay, and he looked at Castiel in confused agitation. Castiel looked almost mournful, but said nothing, only looked at Alex, then away.
"I received new revelation yesterday," Uriel said. "The guardianship of Alex Winchester has ended."
"How convenient," Alex commented acidly, glaring at Uriel in mistrust.
"It's most regrettable," Castiel said, and Alex looked back at him angrily. He almost did look sorry. Almost. She looked away.
Dean crossed his arms, staring at Uriel stonily. "I wanna talk to Cas. Alone."
"Fine," Uriel said, surprisingly compliant. "I'll go seek revelation. We might have some further orders."
"Well, get some donuts while you're out," Dean said, earning a chuckle from Uriel. It was a deep, rich sound.
"Ah, this one just won't quit, will he?" Uriel smirked. "I think I'm starting to see what Castiel likes about you, boy." And then he vanished, leaving Alex, Dean, and Castiel alone.
"You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby," Dean commented sarcastically to Cas, whose face only registered concentration. "You know, I'm starting to think junkless has a better sense of humor than you do," Dean said when he got no reaction.
Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone."
Dean and Alex exchanged a puzzled glance, as if they were both thinking should we be amused right now? Then Dean fixed Castiel with an intent gaze. "What's going on here, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"
"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies," he said vaguely.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex asked, and Castiel's expression flickered.
"I was getting too close to the humans in my charge." He looked at Dean. "You." And then at Alex, sidelong. "...and you." He seemed sheepish and looked down. "They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment."
"Or... un-brainwash you?" Alex suggested. "Forget that. Cas, just get us out of here."
A muscle in his jaw jerked and he looked at her sternly. "I'm sorry. I don't have the authority or permission to release you."
"Yeah, great." Dean scoffed. "So they knock you down the ladder and put Uriel in charge?"
Cas's frown deepened slightly. "He is a proud and able instrument of God."
"The demotion… doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?" Dean asked.
Cas looked away, as if in irritation. "It is what it is, to me." Alex looked at him intently—she thought, just for a moment, that she heard a touch of hurt in that deep, husky voice of his.
Dean took in a deep breath, letting it out heavily as he slowly went back to the door that Alastair was behind. "Well tell Uriel, or whoever…" He stared into the room for a moment. "You do not want me doing this, trust me."
"Want it, no. But I have been told we need it," Castiel said. "And if you refuse… Uriel has ordered me to… convince you."
Dean looked back at Cas with a murderous expression. "You mean… using her." Dean looked at Alex, who went slack jawed and looked at Castiel in something in the neighborhood of shocked outrage. The angel was looking at her with an unreadable expression and Alex looked at him in shocked betrayal—surely he was just bluffing…? Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas. "You wouldn't."
A muscle jerked in Castiel's cheek. "Dean, I have no desire to do this," he said, avoiding looking at Alex. "Comply and I won't be forced to hurt her." His words were stunning blows to Alex.
Dean shook his head, disgusted at Cas's response. "You son of a bitch." He turned back around, falling alarmingly quiet. There was a long, tense pause and Alex was speechless, not sure what to say or do.
"Please, Dean," Castiel said quietly, a touch of pleading to his usually apathetic voice. "Just... do as we ask." He glanced at Alex, his eyes hooded. She didn't know what to think. She wasn't sure about much, but Cas wouldn't hurt her, would he? It didn't seem possible after all the times he'd healed her and helped her, gone against orders to do so, even. But here he was, saying he would if he had to. It made no sense.
Dean's shoulders seemed slumped and heavy, and she could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke again. "Cas—if I open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out."
Cas said nothing, and sensing that time and options were running out, Alex tried one last plea, her emotions high strung out of alarm. "Please, Cas. Listen to my brother. Don't make him do this. You can help us." She paused, trying a desperate, stupid appeal. "You like helping us. I know that about you!" Her voice had risen in something close to panic.
But Cas wouldn't look at her. He only stared ahead, his face like stone. He ignored her statement. "You both know what we're fighting for. What we're dying for. What Pamela died for. You know what will happen if we fail." There was a long silence, and Cas looked toward Dean. "For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this."
Dean turned around, his features set like rock. "Yeah." He looked ill. "I'll do it."
"No! Dean—" Alex protested.
Dean shook his head, coming to her. "I have to."
Alex shook her head in feeble protest, Dean's horrifying words about his time in Hell resounding in her mind. "No you don't." She was consumed with fear for him, and was terrified that if he went in, he'd come back broken once and for all. "Don't go in there," she begged, her voice cracking from the onset of sudden, helpless emotion. She grabbed a hold of him, trying to hold him back, keep him safe. "Let them do whatever to me, I don't care!"
Dean's eyes were gentle and resigned—her protests were in vain, and she could tell. "Well I do care Al. And I've already made up my mind," he said softly, and gave her his best attempt at a smile. He grasped her shoulder reassuringly, then looked toward Castiel, his expression becoming intense once more. "Cas... you do not let her see what I'm going to do in there."
"Understood."
And wordlessly, Dean turned and went through the door. Alex stared after her brother, completely aghast. The door shut behind him with a resounding clang, and silence settled over the room. Alex stared at the door, a little breathless. Her heart was racing. "S-shouldn't someone be in there with him?"
"No," Cas said behind her, and she heard him coming to the spot beside her. "He must do this alone." Alex sidled away from him pointedly, angry that he was trying to act like her friend or something. A moment of silence passed, then Castiel tried to speak to her again. "Your empathy and compassion for your brother is commendable."
"It's natural," she retorted, not in the mood for bullshit. She looked at Castiel with an expression that seemed to ask how could you do this? "Do you know what Alastair put Dean through down there? And now you're doing the same thing. Forcing him to torture again, after all he's been through." She scoffed darkly. "An angel doing pretty much what that demon did. Pretty damn ironic, isn't it."
Cas looked like he was considering what she'd said, his ever-present frown momentarily replaced by an oddly pensive expression. "I understand that you're angry with me. But this must be taken care of. And Dean was our last hope. We exhausted all other avenues. Please, understand that."
Alex shook her head slowly, looking at him with an odd expression. "You should know better than this," she told him in a voice that was softer, almost wounded. "I don't even know you. But I know you should know better than this, Castiel." The angel's eyes flickered between hers as his dark brows drew together faintly. Did he agree? Was she way off base? It was her instinct that he really should know better. He seemed different than Uriel and even Anna, in a way she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe she was reaching. Maybe she was wrong in her gut feeling about him. After a minute or two of silence, Alex glanced at Cas. "So what's this crap about God's little protective orders on me going poof? You buy that?"
"Yes," Castiel replied. "I'm no longer your protector." Did Alex imagine the faintest hint of reluctance in his voice?
She wasn't sure, but she felt oddly let down by his response. "Just like that?"
He was looking into the space in front of him with furrowed eyebrows. "Yes. It's for the best, I think."
"The best? Why?" Alex asked.
Cas's expression was strange. "What I said before. My superiors saw that I was becoming too attached. Too emotional."
"You? Emotional?" Alex made a face. "That's fucking rich..." she muttered. Looking at him sidelong, she studied him darkly. "So if Dean had refused. Were you really prepared to, you know, torture me to get him to do what you wanted?"
"Dean didn't refuse," Castiel said, looking down at the floor, sidestepping the question entirely.
There was a disappointed silence on Alex's part. "So, basically, yes," she supposed out loud. He said nothing, only let his eyes flicker over to hers for a moment guiltily. She felt a cruel sense of betrayal, followed by discouragement that she had allowed herself to trust him, in however small a way. She looked away, confused at herself and her instincts that were proving wrong about him. "And here I was thinking you might be different. Better than that." Damn.
Castiel's jaw clenched and he looked up slightly. He didn't answer her. They heard a loud scream in the other room, and Alex's face fell into an apprehensive, wide-eyed stare as she looked at the shut door that her brother was behind. God she wished she and Dean were anywhere else but here. That he'd kept that damn hex bag intact. Another scream followed, and then another, and another. Alex looked at Cas, who finally met her gaze. She didn't bother to hide her hurt, betrayed, resentful expression. Don't let this happen, she wanted to beg him. He stared back, looking strangely affected by the way she was looking at him. Then he got up and walked a few steps away, his back to her, where she could only see his stern profile. Alex considered him for a moment, then the screams coming from the room beyond. Without warning, she broke into a dash for the door, no plan at all in her mind, just a need to rescue her brother somehow.
Before she even reached the door, Castiel suddenly appeared right in front of her, a wind blowing over her from the speed at which he moved. It startled her and she almost ran right into him but came up short, stopping just in time to hit the toe of her shoe up against one of his. He was only perhaps five inches taller than her, but he seemed like a solid, towering wall, blocking her way. His blue eyes were filled with soft, grudging warning. "Let me past," Alex said, and he said nothing and did nothing, only remained in her way. She made to brush past him and he suddenly seized her wrist and pulled her back, holding her there close to him in a strong grip. "Let go of me!" Alex protested, trying to get out of his impossible grip.
"This must happen, Alex," he told her somberly, and he almost seemed to be appealing to her, maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed a little urgent. "Please—don't make me restrain you. I know you don't like it."
His grip didn't hurt, but she pretended it did. "You're hurting me," she lied, putting a note of pain in her voice to sell it, even though she didn't think he'd care. But immediately, surprisingly, his face registered a reaction and he let go, stepped back, held a staying hand out, trying to keep her from continuing her efforts to get to Dean. Alex's surprise showed on her face as she stared at him. What the hell? He was threatening to torture her if Dean didn't comply but wouldn't even hold her tight by the wrist when she complained of discomfort? He looked conflicted, and she was mystified. Another scream sounded and Alex's jaw tightened, her anxiety soared... but she couldn't do anything. She recognized that she wasn't going to get past Castiel. Resigned, Alex retreated and sat leaningly against the empty metal table behind her. She folded her arms and slouched, uncomfortable and unsure, hating how she had to sit here and stand by while Dean was forced to do what haunted him. Cas's eyes remained on her, and she could feel them. She said nothing.
A few tense minutes passed, with Alastair's screams punctuating the silence, and sometimes Dean's shouts, indistinct, echoed in between. A sudden movement to her left caused Alex to look up. She was startled to see Anna there—young, slender, pale, red-headed Anna, who had last been seen in a blaze of Grace. Was she an angel again? She must have been—she'd appeared out of thin air.
"Anna," Castiel greeted dryly, coming closer—not toward Anna, but toward Alex, as if he were being protective.
"Hello, Castiel. Alex." Anna seemed different somehow—taller, fiercer.
"Anna..." Alex returned neutrally, looking at her apprehensively, suddenly suspicious that Anna had rejoined club angel and was backing Cas up on this. "You here to join the fun?"
Anna's expression was grim. "No. I'm here to end it." Her comment surprised and perplexed Alex.
"You shouldn't be here," Cas said, approaching Anna further now. "We still have orders to kill you."
"Somehow, I don't think you'll try," Anna said, and Alex was interested. Why? Because Anna was a great warrior who would kick Cas's ass? Or something else? Anna looked at Castiel intensely. "Why are you letting Dean do this?"
"He's doing God's work," Cas replied stoically. Another one of Alastair's screams rang out.
Anna's expression was pained. "Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have." What weapon? Alex looked between the angels questioningly, but they weren't looking at her.
Cas shook his head. "Who are we to question the will of God?"
"Unless this isn't his will," Anna said. Alex watched the exchange with growing intrigue—Cas seemed to be listening, or at least considering what Anna was suggesting.
"If not God, then where do the orders come from?" he asked.
"I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not him."
Another scream broke the silence, and Anna grew earnest, pleading. "The Father you love. You think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous?" Castiel couldn't meet her questioning gaze. "What you're feeling right now? It's called doubt." She touched his hand, a subtle action Alex didn't miss. Cas looked at her hand in puzzlement. "These orders are wrong and you know it. But you can do the right thing. You're afraid, Cas. I was too. But together, we can still—"
"Together?" Castiel repeated, and yanked his hand away, his thoughtful expression turning hard and deadly. "I am nothing like you. You fell. Go."
"Cas…" Anna said, but Castiel's voice shook with murder.
"Go." He repeated himself darkly. Anna looked at him sadly, but then did as he said and disappeared. Cas looked shaken up and angry, which was interesting to see—genuine emotion, a real reaction? Anna's points seemed valid, too, and Alex wondered that was why Cas was upset. Because he thought so too, maybe. Or maybe that was Alex projecting, hoping.
"I thought you had orders to kill her," Alex said, testing him a little, wondering about him. Castiel looked at her almost balefully, as if he didn't want to be reminded of the fact. Alex copped a disarming, easygoing air that would have made Dean proud. "Death sentence or not, you were kinda harsh there at the end, buddy."
Castiel looked at her sharply. "She suggested blasphemy."
Alex stood up and threw her arms wide in a shrug and let her hands hit the sides of her legs with a loud slap. "She suggested using your freaking brain."
"It's not that simple," Cas replied, his voice decidedly agitated.
"Um, yes, it is," Alex said. "You need to wake up. Something's wrong here about this, can't you feel it?" She paused. He seemed to have no clue about what was going on, or was too stuck on following orders and being a good little boy to care. Why was she appealing to him like he'd actually see it like she did? She didn't know. Wishful thinking again. Alex decided to get snippy again, angry at herself for trying to get him to listen to reason when clearly, it wasn't going to happen. "You could take some lessons from Anna, you know that? She questions things and decides herself what's wrong or right. She isn't a blind follower like you are."
She seemed to have touched a nerve—Cas snapped, whirling on her. "I am not blind!" he thundered.
Alex looked at him in mild surprise, shrank back a little, because she suddenly remembered how strong he was, how powerful. Maybe pissing him off was a bad idea. Still, she found it in her ability to made a snide remark. "And that, my friend, is called denial," she remarked, even as she was wondering if maybe the angels were right. Maybe he was beginning to become emotional.
Cas's jaw worked oddly, and he looked at her contemptuously as if she'd insulted him somehow. "You speak as if you know everything. You know nothing." It was meant to be an insult and Alex took it as such, but she was honestly surprised at him for it. At that point he seemed to remember himself and swallowed, his expression falling away into an apologetic state. "It's—" he started, then frowning abruptly, looked toward the cell. "No."
"Cas?" Alex asked, looking around in confusion. He had disappeared. A sudden, terrifying thought came to her, and she dashed to the the door of the room where Alastair was, peering through the glass. What she saw sent horror reeling through her, and she yanked the door open, rushing in, only to be slammed against the wall, frozen in place.
"Stay back!" Castiel barked, and Alex had no choice but to comply.
On the floor at the edge of the devil's trap, Dean's body laid lifelessly, his face a mess of bruises and blood. Alex struggled desperately against the hold Castiel had put on her, but it held. Alastair, who had somehow been freed from the trap, was grinning wickedly, pulling Ruby's knife out of his chest, completely unharmed by Castiel's attack. He chortled eerily, and charged Castiel—Alex could only watch, ineffectively struggling, as the angel and the demon began trading devastating blows, destroying parts of the room as they threw each other around. It was only a matter of maybe ten seconds, but Alastair gained the upper hand, slammed Cas against one of the walls, holding him up by his neck. Blood ran down the side of the angel's face, and Alex felt the hold on her lessen as Alastair began exorcising Castiel, shouting Latin. Frozen in sudden terror, she watched as Cas's mouth and eyes began to glow in fierce blue light. She tumbled forward, free to move once again. Just there, a couple feet away, she saw a cinder block. Without a second thought, Alex grabbed it, heaved it up with both hands, and lifting it high, she crashed it down on Alastair's head, stunning the demon and freeing Castiel from the chokehold. Cas tumbled to the ground, momentarily dazed.
Alastair, recovered, strode toward Alex, who was backing up fast, but not fast enough. "Alex, Alex, Alex… I'm getting reaaaal tired of your antics, little girl," Alastair said and reached out with incredible speed and strength, yanking her up by the front of her shirt, as if she weighed nothing. He sent her flying through the air toward the far wall with devastating power. She collided with the cement wall, shoulder and head first, a sudden, sick pain exploding there. Befuddled, she felt herself fall over onto her back. The world went sideways, and she heard Castiel shout something, but wasn't sure what. At that point, everything faded out.
"It's not us. We're not doing it!" Alex heard someone shouting, followed by bizarre sounds of someone screaming in pain.
She opened her eyes unevenly, and everything came rushing back as she blinked, her eyes refocusing awkwardly. She was staring at the ceiling, laying on her back, one of her legs tucked under her weirdly.
"I don't believe you," came a familiar voice. Sam? Alex struggled and rolled onto her side, supporting herself on an arm. Her head was pounding, and there was something wet on the side of her head. She touched her fingertips to it, and saw bright crimson there. Woozily, she looked up at the spot where she remembered Cas being. He wasn't there, but she saw that a pair of shoes were right in front of her face.
"Lilith is not behind this," Alastair said, his strangely nasal, lisping voice full of an ominous happiness. "She wouldn't kill seven angels. Oh, she'd kill a hundred, a thousand…"
Alex looked up foggily at the owner of the shoes in front of her face, to see Castiel reaching down for her. There was still blood running down the side of his face. He pulled her to her feet, and Alex clutched onto his arm for support, a little off kilter. She stared at him, a little groggy and muddled as she reached her full height. He was so handsome, she thought idly, that it was sad he had to be such an asshole. She lurched as her vision swam and she hung onto him tighter so that she didn't fall down.
"Go ahead. Send me back, if you can," Alastair taunted Sam, who smiled faintly.
"I'm stronger than that now," Sam said darkly. "Now I can kill." He held his hand out, and his expression became concentrated, aloof. Alastair's face fell and golden light flickered inside him, the outline of his skeleton pulsing through the skin. Adrenaline or fear seemed to overpower Alex's woozy state, and she stared in sudden breathless horror as Sam's outstretched hand slowly clenched into a fist. How was he doing that? Beside her, still supporting her, Castiel watched, his expression matching hers. Almost in unison, they clutched each other tighter as the demon began to scream, the pulsing golden light intensifying, then exploding inside of him. The host collapsed, dead. Sam looked pleased, a strange smile on his face that Alex would never, ever forget.
A soft groan from over by the devil's trap drew everyone's attention, and Alex jerked herself out of Castiel's grip, staggering over to Dean's crumpled body. She fell onto all fours and put her head to his chest, listening for his breath. Sam, seemingly back to being himself, was right behind her. Alex drew away. She was startled to see that she'd left a blood stain on Dean's shirt where she'd pressed her ear. She knew she had just cut herself and been given a solid knock on the head... but Dean was barely breathing. "We need to get him to a hospital," she said in urgent alarm.
Castiel came to them, his expression dogged. "Hold on."
Alex and Sam stayed by Dean's beside, hoping for a sign that Dean would regain consciousness. Castiel had taken them to the emergency room and then disappeared without even a word. It had been a couple hours, and Dean had been stabilized, but still remained unconscious. The doctor had wanted to treat Alex, too, who had refused. It was only a cut, and possibly a mild concussion. Baby stuff, as far as she was concerned. She'd stopped the bleeding—she was fine. She sat on the edge of Dean's bed, and gently ran her palm down the side of his still face. He looked free of worries, at least. A small mercy. But would he be okay? Sam, who was sitting in a chair next to her, suddenly shot up to his feet. Following his suddenly hostile gaze, Alex rose too. Castiel stood in the door way, silent. He looked normal again, free of blood, no rips in his coat. Wordlessly, the angel turned and walked away. Exchanging a glance, Sam and Alex took after him, Sam leading the way. Alex hadn't confronted him on what he'd done to Alastair. Not yet.
"Sam—" Castiel started as he caught up to the angel in the hospital hallway.
Sam jabbed a finger back toward Dean's room. "Get in there and heal him. Miracle. Now."
"I can't," Cas said, eliciting incredulous expressions from the twins.
"What do you mean, you can't?!" Alex demanded, incredulous and quickly getting pissed. "After all of the times you healed me, that's one hell of a lie, Cas!"
"I mean I can't," Castiel repeated firmly, but his expression wasn't the usual confident and stern frown. He looked upset. "I shouldn't even be here right now. I've been warned for the last time about healing."
Alex was beside herself. "But he needs it!"
Sam was similarly aghast. "You and Uriel put him in there—because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together!"
Cas looked between the two siblings, who had pretty much cornered him. "I don't know what happened. That trap... it shouldn't have broken. I am sorry."
"Oh. You're sorry?" Alex asked scornfully.
"This whole thing was pointless. You understand that?" Sam demanded. "The demons aren't doing the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers, and that's the truth. Hope you're happy." Fed up, Sam whirled and stalked back to Dean's room, leaving Castiel and Alex alone in the dim hallway.
"Perhaps Alastair was lying," Cas attempted, only to be quickly cut off by another angry retort from Alex.
"Yeah and perhaps the sky is purple! You're honestly going to stand here and not do anything—after Dean did everything you asked? You forced him to do the most inhuman and horrible thing, for what?!" She was infuriated. "So that you can leave him to rot in there?!"
"I don't know how that devil's trap could have failed—" Castiel tried again.
"It was sabotaged!" Alex exploded, "Or rigged! Maybe by you, Cas! Huh?" Clear incredulous shock rippled across his features as she looked at him while shaking her head in almost disgust. "I wouldn't put it past you at this point." She was bitter, blinded by betrayed anger and confusion. "I never should have trusted you, not even a little bit. Not for one second."
"How can you even say that?" he asked slowly. He sounded offended and wounded. "I've done nothing but stand at your side and give you assistance and guidance from Heaven."
"Yeah, thanks," Alex said, sounding anything but thankful. She looked at his stupid face that she currently hated more than anything; pissed at how clueless he looked. How could he not know how much he had risked by letting Dean torture Alastair? Or how twisted it was to force Dean to do what he did? Alex's rage was collecting inside of her blindingly, and she realized she needed to walk away before it made her do something she'd regret. She was losing her mind to her temper.
She turned to walk away, but he grasped her arm lightly, stopping her. "I'm only here to help," Castiel said, and Alex, infuriated, rounded on him.
"Don't touch me!" she snarled, hauling off and punching him squarely across the face... and immediately she hunched forward, cradling her fist in pain. "Son of a bitch!" She groaned. He was completely unaffected by her physical attack, which pissed her off even more.
He looked chagrined. "You can't hurt me, Alex," he said, sounding as if he felt sorry for her for thinking she could. He was silent for a beat, looking at her hand tensely. "Is your hand all right?"
"What do you care?!" Alex shot back, holding her hurt hand to herself pitiably, reeling from pain and trying not to show it.
Cas looked grumpy. "You shouldn't exert yourself. You've sustained a head injury."
"This 'head injury' isn't half as bad as the pain you've been in my ass!" She retorted, yanking her arm out of his grasp. Maybe she couldn't hurt him physically. But she had a hunch that she could hurt him another way, a childish way, and she didn't hesitate to try it. "I hate you, Castiel. Hate," she bit out acidly, feeling absolute sick triumph as his expression fell completely in response. And high on the bullying behavior, she let another cruel remark fly. "Go die," she snarled thoughtlessly, and she received exactly what she had been aiming for: his face registered absolute confusion, hurt. But instead of feeling better again, Alex felt a very strong pang of regret and contempt... for herself. Pride held her fast and she lifted her chin and stared at him, refusing to let him see through her, trying to let him think that's actually how she really felt. If for no other reason than to protect herself at this point.
He seemed at a loss, devastated by her words. "I… I don't understand. I risked everything out of compassion for you. To give you back your voice. Despite everything—I know I've made some errors—but despite everything, I am your friend." Friend? Alex felt like she'd been socked in the gut when he said that. Did he really think that? He seemed so innocent and vulnerable right then, so full of earnestness. He seemed like the Castiel she kept catching glimpses of and liking. His eyes showed hurt and he gazed at her in confusion. "Why would you say this to me?" His wounded question hung in the air, and Alex couldn't deny the guilt that washed over her as he had said that, nor the knowledge that he was pretty much right.
Grudgingly, she looked away, not sure what to do now. "You know what, I appreciate what you've done. I do, Cas." More than anything, really. She shook her head, frustrated, feeling emotion brimming in her eyes. "But if you're my friend, then you'll help us. Please! Dean might die!"
Cas's face showed reluctance and as he spoke, there was an intensity there, as if he were trying to ask her to please understand. "Alex—I cannot help you. It's out of my hands. I've been ordered not to—" he stopped mid sentence, seeing the pained look on Alex's face. Surprisingly, Cas addressed exactly what Alex was worried about. "Dean won't die. He'll survive this, I promise you."
Alex just looked at him in hurt confusion. She felt let down and betrayed. "You can help us. And you won't. Why?" Cas's gaze faltered as if her words shamed him and Alex gritted her teeth together, realizing she had made a huge mistake. Trusting him in a small way, enough to hope that he would help them. Her voice got cold and trembled. "What you did today, what you let happen was wrong." She retreated back from him a step. "Just stay the hell away from my family, understand?" And without waiting for a reply, she turned and left him standing there.
She didn't look back to see if he stayed. She was too busy squeezing her eyes shut and trying to shove the shame and confusion away. She saw his face in her mind's eye, hurt and disillusioned at her verbal jabs. Why wouldn't he listen? Why wouldn't he wake up and get his mind out of the mindset of blindly following orders? He could help and he wouldn't. And the worst part was how Alex found herself believing Castiel should help, that it was within his character to help them. She scoffed at herself. She didn't know him. All she knew was that he was confused and confusing. She tried to push him out of her mind. She just wanted to be done with entire, messy ordeal. In vain, she rubbed her fist in her other hand, wincing. Punching him had been like punching a tree trunk. And the worst part was that he had turned his head with her fist when she hit him—she knew that if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't moved his face when her fist impacted him, she probably would have broken her hand all together. She thought bitterly that she didn't deserve that, for him to be looking out for her still, especially not now after she'd been such a total bitch.
She grimaced against the shooting pains in her knuckles as she re-entered Dean's room. Sam was sitting again at Dean's bedside, leaned over his knees as he watched their brother intently. Sam glanced up at her. "I've never seen him this bad."
Alex took her seat opposite of Sam, not able to hide her anxiety. Dean looked horrible and sallow, and she'd seen him this bad only once or twice in her whole life. She gritted her teeth together, breathed out heavily, weary and hopeless and worried beyond comprehending. "Sam—what are we gonna do?"
Sam's jaw clenched, he thought for a minute. "We're gonna lay low. We're gonna get him better. And then we're going to figure out a way to get these damn angels off our backs for good."
Alex shook her head hollowly. It would all be easier said than done. For a minute, they watched Dean silently, the beep, beep, beep of the heart rate monitor punctuating the silence.
A little nervously, Alex cleared her throat. She didn't want to have to ask what she was about to. "Listen, Sam. How were you able to kill Alastair like that?" She paused. "You were… full on telepathic." She was struggling not to sound repulsed or afraid. "Not even Ruby's knife did anything to him."
Sam was somber, his gaze stony. "Uh, yeah, I dunno. My abilities are just stronger."
Alex felt like she wasn't getting the full story, but was afraid to set Sam off. "I mean, do they get stronger every time you use them?" she asked, trying to pry something more out of him.
"Something like that," Sam said and sighed, looking away uncomfortably. "Sorry. I don't like to talk about it. I, you know, don't understand them myself."
Alex nodded, and let it go, even if she would retain her suspicions about it all for some time to come. "It's okay Sam. It's fine." But it wasn't fine. She looked at him from underneath her lashes across the bed. Even though he was within arms reach, he could have been a hundred miles away. That's how close she felt to him right now. Troubled, she remembered how he had barely been able to exorcise Samhain, some punk street demon, a couple months ago. So how was it that he so easily kill one of the most powerful demons in existence… with only his mind? Alex looked at her oldest brother, wishing she knew what to do. Wishing she didn't feel slightly afraid of him right now.
Castiel found Uriel sitting on a bench in the middle of a snowy glen. His brother had his eyes closed. "There you are," Uriel said, as if he'd been expecting him, and opened his eyes. His demeanor was agitated and distressed. "Castiel, I received revelation from our superiors. Our brothers and sisters are dying and they… they want us to stop hunting the demon responsible."
Castiel sat carefully beside Uriel, remaining silent, distracted. He couldn't stop remembering Alex's angry words and the way she'd attacked him like he was the enemy. Why didn't she understand he was here to protect and care for her? Why did she look at him so mistrustfully and like he was a stranger? Didn't she realize he was the one in the shadows and the still moments who made sure she would always be safe? Before this vessel, he hadn't dared to imagine that they would ever speak to each other, but if he had... he never would have imagined she could ever be so angry with him. Make him... hurt so much. How was it possible for mere words to sting him inside? He felt dejected and defeated, wishing he could change this somehow. How could he undo this damage?
Uriel sighed, ignorant to Castiel's inner struggles. "Something is wrong up there. I mean, can you feel it?" Uriel looked heavenward, greatly troubled.
Castiel glanced Uriel's way, torn out of his thoughts. He didn't want to address his growing doubt in the purity of Heaven's orders. "The murders," he said, distracted. "Maybe they aren't demonic. Sam Winchester said the demons had nothing to do with it."
"If not the demons, what could it be?" Uriel asked, sounding shocked at the idea.
"The will of Heaven," Castiel theorized. His shoulders were slumped at the reality. "We are failing, Uriel," he said heavily, distressed at the thought of how dire these times truly were. "We are losing the war, perhaps the garrison is being punished."
The suggestion seemed to bother Uriel. "You think our Father would—"
"I think maybe our Father isn't giving the orders anymore," Castiel said, emboldened, letting himself take Anna's stance, take Alex's stance. He thought about how Alex had insisted, repeatedly, that something was wrong with the scenario. Off. And Castiel decided that he, too, felt that way. "Maybe there is something wrong."
Uriel's brow furrowed. "Yes. I believe there is."
Castiel looked Uriel's way again. He was preparing to broach an uncomfortable subject. "Uriel. I asked around. No one else in Heaven received revelation about the end of Alex Winchester's guardianship."
Uriel turned slowly to look at Castiel. "Well I did," he said evenly.
"Did you?" Castiel challenged quietly.
Uriel's eyes narrowed. "What are you accusing me of?" he asked in a soft, dangerous tone.
Castiel returned Uriel's gaze unblinkingly, under the knowledge that there would be no going back from what he was about to say. As of late, Castiel had been under the influence of outsiders—namely Alex and Dean Winchester. In the privacy of his own mind, he wondered if they were the reason he had begun to suspect Uriel of lies and deceit. But no matter who or what had caused him to think these things, he thought them all the same. Castiel gathered his courage to reply to his brother. "Of manipulating the situation to your advantage."
Uriel scoffed, and shook his head. "Our superiors are right. You have begun to lose your mind." And without another word, Uriel disappeared, leaving Castiel even more lost than before.
Castiel heaved a tired sounding sigh and stood up. This was not supposed to happen. He was not supposed to be obliged to mistrust and second-guess his brethren. And still, he did. The growing sense of unease, of wrongness, was too strong to deny. Yet, he wanted to deny it. Heaven had been stable once. He had known his place and has carried out his duties without question. Things were different now. Castiel was considering very terrible and blasphemous things in the depths of his mind. Things like disobedience and defiance.
Absently, he wondered about Dean. His injuries were bad, but he would survive. Still, seeing him beaten and bruised and unresponsive had sparked a strange feeling in Castiel's spirit. It didn't have to be that way, yet Heaven said he was to do nothing about it… he was to stand idly by and allow the man to suffer. Why? What Alex had wanted to know, Castiel wanted to know, too. He then thought of her again. He could still see her hazel eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed red as she had hit him. He had felt nothing, at least physically, upon the impact of her fist. But internally, he'd been shocked and affronted by the action—she'd been trying to hurt him. To attack him. Again he remembered hearing her shout 'I hate you!' He didn't understand how such a simple declaration could have made him feel so bad or why it still bothered him so deeply. And above all, he knew that spending so much time thinking of her was not prudent or advisable. And still, he did.
Night came and Castiel finally stood. He needed help, and perhaps seized by madness for a moment, he asked for it from the strangest of places. He stood underneath a dim streetlight and called for her. "Anna!" A moment passed and she made no appearance. His voice softened as he searched the darkness for a sign. "Anna, please." The light above him flickered softly and Castiel looked up into it, then turned around.
Anna stood there—youthful and small, lithe. "Decided to kill me after all?" She glanced around, as if she thought other angels were hidden nearby.
"I'm alone," Castiel assured his sister plainly. His entire mind felt consumed with worry and fear, conflict.
She seemed a little surprised. "What do you want from me, Castiel?"
Castiel looked at his sister and confessed his greatest sin. "I'm considering disobedience," he told her heavily, barely able to withhold how fearful it made him to admit such.
The smallest smile came over Anna's face and she smiled. "Good."
"No," he insisted, "it isn't." Was this what panic felt like? Confusion? He tried to explain it to her. "For the first time, I feel…" he didn't know what else to say. "I feel." He knew no way of standing up underneath the metaphorical weight of the things he felt. The longer he was around the Winchesters, the more feelings came over him, and it was like a monsoon he couldn't control.
"That's good, Castiel," Anna repeated, coming a little closer, giving him a hopeful and reassuring smile. "I know it's intense and frightening and new, but it is good."
Castiel was perplexed. "How can it be good?" He questioned. "The things I'm feeling are corrupting my thoughts and actions." His voice softened because he felt ashamed of himself. His eyes flickered downward. "The things I feel… they tempt me."
"Tempt you how?" Anna asked, concern in her eyes.
"To choose my own actions," Castiel said. "To disregard orders in favor of what I deem appropriate."
"And why should that be wrong?" Anna asked, her concern melting away into a studious, earnest tone. "We were taught never to question anything, Castiel. Because they knew if we questioned, we would begin to see." She was deadly serious and quiet. "A war is coming. A different war than what we fight now. You can sense it, can't you? The future is dark and uncertain. Heaven's not what it used to be." Anna contemplated him with sadness in her eyes. "Do you even know who it is you serve anymore?"
Castiel's eyes went down slowly as he thought very hard and realized the answer was deeply horrifying. "No," he murmured. "I don't think that I do."
"You could be like me, Castiel," Anna appealed. "You could choose your own course of action. Use the power and ability our Father gave to you to help the humans you choose to help. The humans you care about. Her." Castiel's eyes snapped to Anna's at the nameless mention of Alex. Anna's eyes were soft and questioning, curious. "Tell me, Castiel. What things do you feel for her?"
Bristling, Castiel's face returned to a mask. "I am her Heaven-elect protector. Feelings are not part of the arrangement."
Anna gave the softest little laughing sound and she shook her head ruefully, seeming to see straight through Castiel's attempts. "You and I both know that's not true. Why do you think you got in trouble for restoring her voice, Castiel? You felt back then. She made you feel compassion. You were moved to action by her." Castiel was looking down, ashamed at himself for being disobedient. Anna saw his expression. "Would you take it back, if you were able?" She asked him intently.
Castiel raised his eyes to hers. His answer was immediate and strong. "Never." He didn't understand himself. But the shame he felt for disobeying was nothing compared to the deep feeling that he had done the right thing. He remembered hearing Alex laugh out loud for the first time. He would never choose to not give her that. It had made him… happy. That sound and what it meant. That she had been happy, too.
"Why are you fighting so hard?" Anna asked gently, peering at him in true confusion. "It's obvious to me that your time as a blind follower of Heaven is over."
The thought of the new and unknown—the thought of existing in a way where he was in charge of his every action—it was terrifying. Shouldn't he accept who he was? A 'hammer' as Dean had put it? Still—he had his doubts and questions. There was a war inside of him, and Castiel didn't know how to win. "I was created to follow," he said, trying to rationalize and use logic, attempting to remember himself. "I shouldn't presume myself the commander of my own destiny."
"But maybe you should. And maybe that's what God wants." Anna put her hand on Castiel's shoulder, trying to comfort him or sway him, he didn't know. He looked at her hand balefully and she dropped it away. Hurt crossed her face. "That's right. You're too good for my help. I'm just trash," she said in a sharpened voice, "a walking blasphemy." She turned to leave him.
"Anna, please—" Castiel said, voice rising a little bit in response to the turmoil he felt inside. "I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do." He waited for her to say something, to continue telling him things that helped him feel as if perhaps his actions weren't wrong or sinful.
Anna turned halfway to look at him and there was a bittersweet smile on her face. "No, Castiel," she said softly. "I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself."
Alex gave the corner vending machine a swift kick, cursing it under her breath. She grabbed it with both hands and shook, trying to get the freaking thing to dispense the pack of M&Ms. "Come—on—you—jackass—son of a bitch—motherfucking jerkoff—" she grunted, rattling it with violent, exasperated force. Finally, the little packet tumbled loose, and she was able to fish it out of the machine. She clenched the little bag of candy tightly… it had proven to be very coy. So much so that she felt mad at it. She set off down the quiet, dark hallway of the hospital back to Dean's room, where her brother, awake and on the mend, was anxiously awaiting the delivery of his snack.
"Well, thanks to your little midnight craving—" she started as she opened the door, but then fell silent at the sight of him. Castiel stood up as she entered the dark room. He'd been seated beside Dean, in her seat. And then she saw Dean's face in the dim moonlight that came in through the window. He was stricken and distressed, his cheeks looked tear stained. "Dean! What's wrong?" She asked in sudden alarm, then looked at Castiel accusingly as she went to Dean's side protectively. "What did you do to him?!"
A slab of moonlight fell diagonally across the angel's face, and she could see him looking at her with a strange expression. Discomfort. "I answered his questions. I told him the truth which I uncovered."
"Which is?" Alex asked, stepping closer to him with dread rising.
Castiel's gaze faltered. "I discovered that Uriel was the one who was killing angels. He wanted to raise Lucifer. He said other angels do, too." He paused, looking into her eyes.
"What?" Alex asked, her face going soft with surprise. "What happened when you found that out?"
A muscle in Cas's jaw jumped and he looked away. "He's dead." From the way he said it, Alex thought Cas was saying he killed him too.
Not what Alex had expected to hear—none of it. Castiel looked resigned and burdened—different somehow—and Alex could find no retort or jab to aim at him. Actually, she didn't want to. She simply looked at him, and realized how exhausted he looked. How overwhelmed. "There is a war in Heaven, and I must fight for righteousness," Castiel said. "You and Dean and Anna were right." He sounded so, so, tired. Alex just looked at him in stunned silence, not really sure what to say. He looked like he'd been to Hell and back emotionally, and Alex felt incredibly guilty and incredibly cruel. He was trying. To be their friend. Her friend. She looked away, but Cas didn't take his eyes off her. His gaze fell to her hand. "Is your hand all right?" he asked—again—catching her off guard completely. She looked at him incredulously, hearing the concern in his voice. After how awful she'd been to him, he was still wondering about her hand? He remembered that, was thinking about it, was concerned about it?
She withered slightly underneath his questioning gaze. "Uh... y-yeah, it's fine." She swallowed oddly, looked away, feeling mortified.
Castiel was as tense as ever and looked to Dean. His frown deepened. "I'll leave now." But before he did, he looked at Alex once more, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Alex." And he was gone, before she could ask what for. Although Alex couldn't know what he meant he was sorry for, Castiel had meant he was sorry for several things: hurting her hand. Making Dean torture Alastair. And letting her think that he would ever, for even a moment, willfully hurt her. Castiel had known, the entire time, that should the moment come, should Uriel have told him to hurt Alex to coerce Dean into action... Castiel wouldn't have been able to bring himself to that. And he was sorry that he'd had to let her think that he would.
But she didn't know what he meant, and Alex stared at the spot Castiel disappeared from, confused. "Dammit," she muttered, unable to put her conflicting frustrations into coherent thoughts or words. Why did he always leave her in a jumble of confusion? She didn't roll like that. In this life, she made up her mind about things and stuck by her decisions. But with Cas, she kept going back and forth. She couldn't make up her mind about him, and it was infuriating.
A soft sniff tore her out of her thoughts and she turned her attention to Dean, who was struggling to control his face. He was clearly upset. "What is it?" Alex asked in dismay, sitting down on the bed and gently brushing his wet cheeks with the backs of her fingers. She always got extremely upset herself when Dean was upset, but his tears—those terrified her.
He caught her hands in his to stop her, and held them firmly, his eyes squeezed closed. "Cas said that I was the one who started the apocalypse." His eyes opened, his face contorted in guilt and pain and he looked at her with a horrible, pained expression. "Me. In Hell, I broke the first seal. I started it."
"What?" Alex whispered.
"When I tortured souls, it started this whole freakin' thing," Dean whispered tearfully.
Alex grasped at straws for the right words to say to comfort her miserable brother. "Well, you'll be the one to end it, right? You and me. And Sammy. We'll beat this. Dean... hey. Hey."
What little composure remained was fast crumbling, and Dean shook his head. His voice cracked with raw emotion—with a certain note of hopelessness. "I'm not strong enough, Al. I've carried too much for too long, and I can't do it. I just can't. I don't have the strength anymore." He shook from a sob that wracked his entire body, and Alex didn't know what else to do. She half crawled into the bed, embracing him tightly, even though she herself was beginning to feel as though she were falling apart, too. "You don't have to do it alone, Dean. I'm here."
He just wept, and she clutched him in total terror, glad he couldn't see her face right now. When Dean, her rock, fell apart, she didn't know how to be okay.