Jack requested more training when he got back. I wasn't certain how to train him, in all honesty. Usually to teach magic, you needed to be able to do magic. Then again, Crowley left me on my own for days at a time when I was first learning. His only general instructions were to light the candle in front of me on fire.

Candles were easy. That was a possibility. It was better than nothing.

So a few days later, when the boys went out, I set us up in a barren room. No curtains, no table even, nothing that could light on fire besides ourselves and the object I set between us; a candle.

"What are we doing in here?" Jack asked, looking around.

"It's a safety measure." I replied. "When I first starting doing this I didn't really have control either, and I lit a lot of other things on fire than just a candle." I shrugged a little, remembering how many things in the cabin bit the dust.

"Like what?" Jack asked.

"Like everything else but the candle." I smirked as I said that. "And because I know you aren't certain how to quite control your powers, but at the same time you can under certain circumstances, I figured it would be a smarter choice to leave out that possibility."

"OK." He took one more look around the room before he nodded. "How do I light the candle?"

"With your power." I stated. He just looked at me, confused as all hell. I took a breath, thinking back hard. "Here, hold a hand out towards the candle," I started, showing him the movement myself. He copied me, watching my movements intensely. "Now focus on the candle and the wick. Imagine how it looks like when it's lit." He scrunched his eyes a little, and I smiled. "Try closing your eyes." I encouraged. "It helps sometimes." He did as I said, but his eyes were still scrunched. "No, not like that." I shook my head, and he opened his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"You're tense, like you're trying really really hard to be perfect."

"Because I am."

"Magic isn't perfect, or perfection." I said. "It's… messy. And it's dependent on both the caster's abilities and their emotions. If you focus on perfection, you won't get it right."

"Then what do you do?"

"Focus on… On the memory." I said. "On the feeling of warmth. When you think of being warm, what do you think of? Besides fire."

"A blanket." He smiled with the word. I smiled with him. This was good. This was helpful.

"What else?"

"Um…" He thought for a second. "A, uh… This place is quite warm." He offered, motioning to the room around us.

"What about warm inside?" I asked. "Like… a content warm? A happy warm?"

"An emotional warmth?" He asked. I nodded. "I… I don't know. I like chocolate with nougat." He offered.

"No, I mean…" I sought for the right words. "What's something that makes you feel safe, makes you feel surrounded with warmth that means you're not alone and that some things in the world are actually good?" I tried. "What makes you feel hopeful?"

He leaned back a little, lowering his hand as he thought. I waited patiently until, finally, he had an answer. "A hug." He stated. I laughed a little. He was as awkward at the hug thing as Castiel had been. "Is that, is that a bad choice?"

"No," I shook my head, still smiling. "No, it's a good choice. Hold your hand up again and think about the candle." He complied, closing his eyes as he did. "Don't focus too hard, or you might light more than just the wick." I considered for a moment the fact that I was opposite him, and in turn directly behind the candle.

I shifted a little so that I was more at a 90 degree angle to him and the candle, putting myself out of the line of fire. "Good. That looks good. Can you see the candle in your mind, as it is now?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now I want you to imagine it lit." I said. "A small flame in the darkness, a little bit of… Of warm hope inside of you and in front of you." I closed my own eyes, remembering what I had thought of when I finally lit the candle myself; the memory of a fireside picnic with Castiel, and candles around us. "Imagine that feeling of a hug, alongside the lit candle. Can you see it, in your mind?"

"I… I think so." He said. I could feel a slight change in his voice.

"It's OK. Relax. Let it flow freely. With magic… You have to give a small piece of yourself away with it. It'll come back to you, I promise; but for something to be made, you gotta give a little with it." I felt good as I said this, remembering when I'd first been successful. It was a happy memory. It made me feel accomplished, like I could actually do something and… and be useful.

I shook those words from my brain, focusing on the task at hand. This wasn't about me, this was about Jack. "Allow the memory to move from you in to the candle, and in turn it's flame." I opened my eyes, watching Jack and the candle. I could see the wick start to flicker a little bit here and there. "Good. Almost. Once you feel comfortable, once you feel as though the memory has linked itself to the candle, focus on that flame once more and give it the command word."

"What's the command word?" There were different options for this, depending on what kind of fire you wanted, but I told him the one I'd used first.

"Inferno." I said, closing my eyes once more. I could just barely remember the feeling of when I could light a fire in my palm. I could almost feel the warmth, feel the happiness of succeeding and the joys of exercises I could do with it. The stories, the fireworks, everything. I could feel a bit of Jack's magic starting to take form as I remembered, almost feel the flames themselves once more.

"Inferno." He whispered.

For an instant, it felt as though my head had been split open. I instinctively curled in to a small ball, fighting the urge to screech. "Kylie?!" Jack asked, instantly alarmed. I winced at the volume.

"Quiet voices." I whispered. It only took a moment for the spell to work, opened my eyes, and saw the candle lit perfectly. I smiled at him, raising a hand to clap him on the back. "Way to go, Jack!" I congratulated. Before my hand could touch him, though, I stopped.

My arm was also on fire.

"Shit!" I shouted, for a second trying to reign in the flames on reflex. I could feel the fire now, really feel it. I could feel the bite of it on my skin. I slapped it on the ground, blowing as hard as I could. "Jack!" He took off his jacket quickly, whacking my arm with it until the flames were finally doused.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly, looking at my arm. It was definitely burnt, but only first and minor second degrees. I would be fine. "I'm so sorry."

"It's OK." I promised, standing up. The candle was still surprisingly lit, and otherwise untouched. "Like I said, I burned everything else in the room when I first tried; even myself a few times. We'll call it an opening for a new lesson."

"A new lesson?"

"The first thing I actually could do semi-successfully," I explained, motioning to my arm. "Was reign in the fires I created that were, well… not lighting the right spot. Crowley taught me how to not burn down the cabin we were in, and each time I did that I tended to light myself on fire for a long while in the process. That's not even including the times where I just straight-up lit myself on fire to begin with."

"So… I can stop the fire too?" Jack summed up. I nodded. "How?"

"Well, with a candle, two ways." I said. "One, the non-magic way, is to lick your fingers and pinch the flame out." When I saw him starting to mimic the motions I described, I grabbed his arm quickly. "But that's not what we're going to do. We're going to do this the magic way."

"How do I do that?"

"Hold a hand out to the flames again," I told him. He complied, not quite touching it just yet. I remembered all the times I had to shove my arm directly in to the flames, and all the times in learning that that had hurt more than anything else. Jack wouldn't have to do that, though. I knew he wouldn't. "And call the memory back. Magic is messy, but that's because it's about intent, and sometimes it's hard to solidify that. You have to solidify the idea that you want the fire back, and that you want the energy back. For larger flames, I actually would stick my whole arm in," Jack looked at me alarmed at that.

"I thought you said you burnt yourself when you did that?"

"At first, yeah. I got better." I shrugged. "Don't worry. You're not doing that right now. Instead just… Just lightly touch it with your finger when you're ready to bring it back, and call that warmth back within yourself."

He lowered his hand, and chose to watch the flame for a little longer. "I… I created that?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah." I offered him a small smile as I did. "Yeah, you did."

"It's pretty." He commented.

"It can be."

"What else can you do with fire?"

"Stories, attacks, fireworks," I thought for a moment. "What do you want to do with it?"

"I like the light it makes." He decided. "And I like the warmth from it."

"I think you can make that too." He looked a little happier by the reassurance, then he saddened once more.

"Can I… Can I make Dean like me?" He asked. I let out a sigh, and the flame flickered for a moment.

"Dean doesn't hate you," I started. "He just… He's hard to get used to. When a person loses someone they care about that much… Their reactions can get really negative. When I first became a witch, I thought he and Sam both hated me too." Jack looked at me in surprise.

"Why would they hate you?"

"Because they thought I was dead," I looked in to the small little flame as I spoke, remembering what had happened. "And because I wasn't the person they remembered me to be. They thought I was a normal, dead human. They thought that it had been partially their fault that I'd died. When all of that turned out to be not true… It was hard for them to adjust to the new truth. They didn't like being lied to, understandably, and I think… I think they were confused." I nodded at that. "I think they were confused and uncertain and a little scared as to me being back in general, and then with the magic it just turned that confusion in to full-blown anger and, for a long time, what I perceived as hate and hurt." I could still hear both brothers yelling, in the back of my mind. Both angry and unwilling to accept me for who I was.

"But they… They don't look like that now." Jack pointed out. "They both seem extremely protective of you." I nodded.

"It's because… I don't have anybody else, and at this point neither do they really." I said. "They lost their mom, their best friend, even a person I think they were kind of OK with… They lost a lot of good people that they cared about. I almost died too. And there have been more, over the years, that they've lost. Really, really good people that are gone now." I could see Kevin's face in the back of my mind, as clear as day. "They don't have a lot of people left that they consider family, and in all honesty I don't either." I pursed my lips as I thought about it. I only had Sam and Dean now. Everyone else… There were a few other people I knew, like Claire and Jody, but… They weren't quite family. They were like good friends.

Sam and Dean were my only family, now.

"Am I…" He thought for a moment on his question. "Is there a possibility, in the future, that I could become… a part of their family?" I looked over at him to see him staring at the flame as well. He looked scared by his own question. I thought on that, thought on what he was asking. He was asking if he could be accepted, if he could be cared about like how Sam and Dean care about each other or how I cared about them or how Cas and Crowley had cared about me. He was asking if there was a future in which he was accepted, cared for, and protected like the rest of us.

In that moment, I wanted to tell him yes, automatically, no doubt about it. Dean will come around, and Sam already cares for you, and I've got your back, in case you didn't notice. I wanted to tell him things would be fine and OK, that nobody cared about what his lineage was or how powerful he was or any of that. I just wanted to tell him yes, he would be in their family too.

But I didn't know if that would be the truth, in the long run. I knew Sam was at least OK with him, but Dean… Dean still looked at the kid and saw Lucifer (or worse, saw Cas). But when I looked at him… I saw the promise I made Kelly. I saw the faith that Castiel had had in a child that wasn't even born yet.

"You know," I said, bringing his attention towards me. "I'll be extremely honest with you, I don't know for sure." His face fell, and I continued talking. "Everyone has gone through hard times, and these are admittedly some of the worst. It takes time to heal and figure out what to do next." In the back of my mind, I could hear the plan I made with Dean. It was my only lifeline, more or less. It was how I believed I could start to maybe be OK, at some point. Jack didn't have that, though. Jack just had… probably what I was telling him right now. "But I can tell you this. You're a part of my family." His eyes widened. "So you're not alone in this, I'm here for you. Are you OK with that?"

"Yes." He agreed automatically. "Yes, I am."

"Good. So don't let those boys get you down about anything, OK?"

"OK." He smiled a little, looking back at the candle. He reached a finger out towards it, lightly touching the flame. My brain surged once more in to absolute agony, but this time I managed to only grit my teeth. After a few seconds, both my pain and the fire were gone.

"Good." I encouraged. "You're going to get the hang of this no problem." He looked over at me, proud of his own work.

"What did you think of?" He asked. I furrowed my brows, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you used to be able to do this." Jack explained. "And the way you described the process made it sound as though it was what you did for it to work. So what did you think of, when you were learning how to accomplish all of this?"

"Oh…" I took a small breath. It wouldn't be worth lying to him, and maybe telling him would strengthen his ideas of what to think of with different spells. "I… I thought of Castiel, when I was learning. We went on a picnic, and there were candles, and… It helped. Thinking of Castiel helped me with learning a lot of this, in the beginning."

"What happened after? When you stopped having to think about it all so much?"

"Just that." I shrugged. "I didn't need to think about it as much. It was just… just reflex. It became an extension of myself. I could just will whatever I needed, or I could create whatever I wanted For a lot of spells, that command word stopped being necessary." I remembered how I would just do spell outlines without even thinking of it, just like how an artist would draw absent-mindedly. "When you get good at it, it's just a part of you."

"What could you do, when you were good at it?"

"Almost anything I wanted."

"Like fire?"

"Yeah."

"And the… the force push?"

"Oh yeah."

"And you chose when you used your powers?"

"For the most part, yes." I remembered when I hadn't had as much control; when I'd thrown Dean and Castiel and Crowley across rooms.

"Does that make you… Make you good?" He asked. "Did it mean you weren't… just supposed to be something bad, something that should be… should be killed?"

"The powers made me unique," I said cautiously. "But the choices I made with them… Those are what determined whether I was a good witch or a bad witch." He didn't quite look as comforted by that answer. I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Just because your dad is Lucifer doesn't mean you're going to be exactly like him, and you need to keep remembering that."

"It's hard." He said. "I keep looking around and… everything I see and hear and do just reminds me that I'm supposed to be some sort of monster."

"So was I." I pointed out. "So were Sam and Dean, at one point."

"What made people stop seeing you like that?" He asked. "What made you stop seeing yourself like… like a monster?"

"The same thing that determined what magic I cast." I replied. "Intent."