Sorry this is a little late. I've actually been procrastinating and wrote this chapter in record time haha. I think it's still pretty good. So yeah. Happy birthday to Alex, and since this is going to be a while until I see you guys again, I hope you'll enjoy the new SPN episode tomorrow night! Yay!

Enjoy!

...

February 3rd, 2012

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Alex was sitting on the kitchen counter, vaguely aware of what was happening around. Sam was in the panic room, still unconscious from two nights ago, and both Bobby and Dean were out in the yard. The tow truck had hauled the Impala in sometime yesterday, and she had barely seen eldest Winchester since. As if on cue, the front door opened and Dean entered, pulling off his black gloves and shoving them in his back pocket. He sent her a nod, which Alex ignored. She watched as the hunter pulled a beer out of the fridge before finally speaking. "How's the car?"

"She'll live." Dean's voice was tight, and he leaned against the counter beside her. "It'll take some work." He cracked open his drink and took a swig.

"Cold out?"

"Yeah. Could be worse, though."

Footsteps approached, near silent, but Alex looked up nevertheless to see Sam step into view. He had changed, and was now wearing jeans and a dark, long sleeve v-neck. "Hey, Dean."

Dean Winchester looked up. "Ah, you're walking and talking."

"Yeah, I, uh, put on my own socks, the whole nine." Sam entered the kitchen and sat down on the table, looking up at his older brother, and Alex shot a quick glance down at his feet to see that he was in fact wearing socks.

"Well, that's, uh, . . . I mean you, uh, you're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. My head hurts a little, but . . . basically."

"Seriously?"

"Look man, I'm as surprised as you are, but yeah. I swear."

Dean studied his brother for a second before nodding firmly. "Good. No reason putting a gift horse under a microscope, right?"

"Yeah. So what happened with Cas?"

"Why don't you come help me with the car. I'll fill you in." Without waiting for an answer Dean walked back towards the front door.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be right there." Sam waited until Dean was gone before looking up at Alex. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Alex didn't immediately respond, instead taking her time to run her gaze over the Winchester before focusing on the desk in the study. "I'm fine, Sam," she finally said.

"Really? I think you and I are remembering last night differently —"

"Two nights ago," Alex corrected, voice emotionless. "It's Friday. And I am fine."

"Okay." Sam gave up, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm going to go help Dean then. But, I mean, if you want to talk . . ."

"Thank you." Alex turned her gaze to him. "But that won't be necessary." She watched as Sam got up to leave, head tipping to one side as he paused, staring into the study. "Sam," she prompted. "Samuel."

Sam turned to look at her, confusion written across his face. "I, uh, I'm fine." And with that, he walked away, leaving Alex to slid back into her own thoughts.

...

Footsteps echoed on the stairs, and Alex raised her head. She was seated in the basement, having grown tired of her surroundings in the kitchen some time ago. A gentle pulse of her grace proved it to be Sam, and she stirred, raising her head. The hunter didn't see her, disappearing around the other side of the stairs. Metal rattled as he dug Bobby's old toolbox, obviously intent on finding a specific tool. The noises stopped, and Alex heard Sam's breathing increase. "No no no, this can't be happening," he whispered.

Alex pulled herself to her feet, worried. "Sam?" She circled around the stairs to find Sam in the corner of the room, looking around wildly, wrench raised in defense. "Sam."

"Hey, Sam!" Bobby appeared at the top of the stairs, peering down at the two of them. Sam looked up at the hunter, blinking in confusion as Bobby continued. "What are you, taking a nap down here?" He descended halfway down the stairs so he could see them better. Sam immediately dropped the wrench back down to his side, and Bobby looked over at Alex. "It's Cas, we think. Come on."

"Cas?" Alex slipped past Bobby and hurried up the stairs. The two hunters followed behind her as she made her way into the kitchen were Dean was staring at the tv.

It was the local news. "The sudden deaths of more than 200 religious leaders are currently under investigation" the reporter was saying. "The Vatican has yet to issue a statement, but some are already calling this an act of God."

The screen cut to a young woman, eyes wide. "We all saw him," she insisted. "No beard, no robe. He was young . . . and . . . and sexy." Here Alex let out a snort of amusement, crossing her arms as the woman continued. "He had a raincoat."

Dean shut off the tv, looking over at the three of them. "Sounds like him," Alex agreed, eyes still trained on the darkened screen. "He's . . . killing religious leaders." Her wings pulled in tight at the realization. "Oh my God."

"We might want to come up with a new saying for that." Bobby left the room, leaving Alex alone with the Winchesters in the kitchen. Before either of them could speak, Alex disappeared upstairs.

...

She only came back downstairs late that night. Sam was at the kitchen table, fast asleep on a pile of books, and the young angel could feel both Dean and Bobby outside. As she opened the fridge Sam gasped, jerking awake. "You okay?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I . . . I'm fine." Sam shakily got to his feet and walked into the study. Alex, finding nothing in the fridge, followed, sitting on the couch beside him and then laying down, resting her head in his lap. He didn't protest, and after a few seconds of silence she spoke, "I've been thinking today," she began.

"Yeah. It seems like that's all you've been doing lately."

"About when Balthazar unsank the Titanic," Alex continued, ignoring his interruption. "Remember that night after Balthazar told you I was Cas' mate? You woke me up in the middle of the night and made me promise that I wouldn't leave you." She felt Sam's uncomfortableness mingle with her own and she laughed. "We thought we could somehow change in this world. Like we could do anything."

"Why are you talking about this?"

"I miss it," Alex said simply. "I mean, you, me, grumpy old Dean. None of this angel-romance crap. I didn't have to worry about Castiel, about Lucifer, about Balthazar. We were just typical humans with . . . with an atypical job. It was nice."

"But you don't . . . you know . . ."

Alex shrugged the best she could, given her position. "I'm twenty-two years old, Sam. Outside of Cas — who doesn't really count — that was the closest thing I've ever had to a real relationship. Boyfriend. Partner. Mate. Call it what you want." She sat up to look into Sam's eyes. "I don't love you, Sam. But I do care about you."

"Alex."

"I'm worried about you, Sam. Cas tore down that entire wall." Alex leaned forward to look even deeper into the hunter's eyes. "Have you been seeing things? Hearing things? Anything. Please. Tell me."

"I'm fine."

"You can't lie to me, Sam Winchester. We dated for two years."

"One and a half." Then Sam looked away. "They haven't been that bad," he promised. "Uh, just flashbacks here and there. Meathooks, fire. That's it." He looked back up into Alex's eyes. "I swear."

"Okay." Alex got up off of the couch, scrutinizing Sam for any sign of deceit. "If . . . if they get any worse tell me. There might be something I can do." Her gaze dropped down to his left hand, where white bandages stood in stark contrast against his tan skin. "How's the hand?"

"It's, uh, it's fine." Sam self-consciously touched it with two fingers. It had happened when he had collapsed back in the warehouse, slamming his palm onto a large shard of glass. Dean had been able to get all of the pieces out, but it had required a lot of stitches.

"You sure? It's pretty deep."

"Yeah. I'm sure." Sam stood up as well. "Where's Dean and Bobby?"

"Uh, outside." Alex flicked out her grace. "Um, in the painting shed. Yeah. I think Dean's going try and paint her tonight."

"Huh." Sam grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, leaving Alex to follow behind. The air was surprisingly warm for early February, and she was content just to roll down the sleeves of her jacket as she caught up with the tall hunter.

"Seriously though, Bobby." Dean's voice reached Alex's ears, and she tipped her head to hear even better. "Look at our lives. How many more hits can we take? So if Sam says he's good . . . good."

Alex walked up to the entrance of the painting shed in time to hear Bobby ask, "You believe that?"

"Yeah." After a second's pause, Dean sighed. "No. You want to know why? Because we never catch a break. So why would we this time? I just . . . just this one thing, you know? But I'm not dumb. I'm not going to get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy-pills again."

Sam pushed his way past Alex, and she hurried after him. "Hey."

Both Bobby and Dean looked surprised at their appearance. Bobby was the first to regain his voice. "Hey. How you feeling, sport?"

"Can't complain." Sam glanced over at the Impala, tarps taped over the windows.

Dean nodded. "Great. What's the word?" He was wearing a pair of blue coveralls over jacket, and gestured towards his brother with a roll of masking tape.

"Well, a publishing house literally exploded about an hour ago. Guys, the body count is really getting up there. We gotta do something."

"What we got to do is hunt the son of bitch. Unfortunately I lost my God guns."

Alex rolled her eyes at Bobby's sarcasm, and Sam seemed to share in her lack of amusement. "Well, I mean is there some sort of heavenly weapon? Maybe something out of the angel arsenal that Balthazar stole?" He looked down at Alex. "There's got to be something."

The young angel shrugged hesitantly. "Cas has most of the weapons now," she admitted. "But, uh, I can ask Balthazar, if I can find a way into heaven. There's a few strings I can pull . . ."

"No." Dean firmly shook his head. "He's God. There's nothing. But there might be someone."

"Dean. No." Alex's wings pulled in tight. "You're not . . . We're not summoning Death to kill Castiel."

"He's not Castiel," Dean snapped. "Okay? This dude is, is fucking Ashbrook on steroids."

"How are we gonna get a hold of Death?" Bobby posed, looking up at the eldest Winchester.

"Crowley."

"Jesus, Dean! Do you have any plans that aren't suicidal?" Alex threw her arms up in anger. "I'm going to go talk to him." She spun around only to find a hand on her shoulder holding her back. "Let me go!"

"You can't just reason with him. Who knows what he'll do?"

"He'll listen to me!" Alex snapped. "I, I have to get Cas back, okay?" She shrugged out of the Winchester's grasp and stalked outside. She wove in and out of the cars before sprinting across the open back lot and jumping the barbed wire fence. "Cas?" She stopped, tipping her head up to look into the sky. "Castiel! Get your ass down here!"

"You should show me more respect." The air behind her glowed with light, and Alex spun around in surprise. Castiel looked down at her, obviously displeased.

"The hell have to been doing?" Alex stepped forward, immediately retreating when the wings flared up. "You blew up a building?"

"They were godless people."

"So? You — you can't go around picking petty fights like this. It's —"

" 'Petty fights?' " Castiel stepped forward, and Alex hastily backpedaled. "They're not petty. I'm doing my job." He held out his hands in emphasis, and suddenly all of Alex's attention zeroed in on them.

"Cas." She forced herself forward, taking the angel's hand in hers. The skin was hot to the touch, and she withheld her grace for fear of hurting herself. "What are they doing to you?" She traced the sore along his thumb, so much like those that had been scattered across Lucifer's vessel. "They're eating you from the inside."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Dude, you have to put them back. You're going to explode."

"Why did you call me here?"

"Why . . . I just told you why! Put the souls back!" The light was gone, and so was Castiel, and Alex spun around, eye wide. "Cas!" she yelled. "Get your feathery ass back down here, you coward!"

Nothing.

...

Alex stomped down the basement stairs, stopping to see a very familiar man standing in the corner. Her feather ruffled in displeasure, and her gaze dropped down to his feet. "Ooh, careful," she deadpanned. "That devil's trap might be too big for him. Don't want to give him room to roam." She leaned against the post, crossing her arms. Dean stood beside her, visibly bristling.

Crowley looked down at the devil's trap around his feet, little more than three feet in diameter. "At least one person here cares about my wellbeing," he quipped, glaring over at Bobby Singer. "My new boss is going to kill me for even talking to you lads."

"Well you're lucky we're not stabbing you in your face, you —"

"Whoa whoa whoa." Sam cut his brother off. "Wait. What new boss?"

"Castiel, you giraffe."

"Is he your boss?"

"He's everyone's boss," the demon retorted. "What do you think he's going to do when he finds out we've been conspiring?" He motioned to Bobby Singer with his glass. "You do want to conspire, don't you?"

"No. We want you to stand there and look pretty."

The demon managed to look amused at Bobby's words. "Listening."

"We need a spell to bind Death," Dean cut in.

"Bind? Enslave Death? You're having a laugh?"

Sam straighten up. "Lucifer did it."

"That's Lucifer."

"A spell's a spell."

"You really think you can handle that kind of horsepower?" Crowley looked between the two Winchesters, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. "You're delusional!"

"Death is the only player on the board that has the kind of juice to take on Cas."

"They'll both mash us up like peas. Why should I help with a suicide mission?"

"Look!" Bobby stood up, through with the demon's attitude. "Do you really want Cas running the universe?"

Crowley opened his mouth but fell silent. Instead, he contented himself with pouring another drink. "If I get you a spell to bind Death," he began slowly, "you leave me out of it. You take down Cas, and I get back my free reign of hell. No more summoning, more more chasing me down. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. Now." Crowley motioned to the ground. "Do you mind?"

Dean stepped forward, flicking out his knife. He knelt down beside Crowley, who let out a small noise of amusement at the sight before disappearing. Alex shook out her wings in distaste. "Well, that went well."

"Did you talk to Cas?"

"He's not giving it up." Before any of the hunters could push her further, Alex disappeared upstairs.

...

The next afternoon found Alex outside in the salvage yard. Sam was with her, and together they were stripping out the inside of one of the new Fords that had showed up that morning. The tires were already stacked across the row, and Alex glanced over at them as she pulled the manual out of the glove compartment. "You think Crowley's really going to help us?" she finally asked, sitting up.

"What?" The hunter's head popped up from over the backseat.

Alex looked back, a small smile on her face at the sight. "You ever consider wearing your hair back?" she teased, reaching back to smooth down a section that was sticking every which way. "I could see you pulling off a top knot or something, eh?"

Sam knocked her hand away. "You said something about Crowley?"

"Yeah. Think he's actually going to help?"

"I think so, yeah. Doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd want an angel bossing him around." Sam brushed his hair out of his face before pushing the driver's seat forward. The rest of the screw popped off, and it fell halfway out the door. "I mean, he hates us, but I think he hates Cas more."

Alex nodded, sated with his answer. "Yeah," she agreed. "I guess." A dark shape moved out of her peripheral vision, and she sat straight up, grace pushing outwards. "Demons." Alex jumped out of the car and tore toward the house, Sam close on her heels.

"What?" Sam easily caught up to her, stopping beside the backdoor as she caught up.

"Demons. Well, demon. I think just one. He's gone now." Curiosity aroused, the female angel entered the house, looking around. "Bobby?"

"In here." Bobby was standing in the study, a large white envelope in his hands. "Look what came in the mail."

"I felt a demon."

"He probably slipped it under the door." Bobby opened the envelope and pulled out a old piece of parchment. Alex hurried over to stand next to Dean to see what was on it. It was old, very old, written in an obscure Latin dialect. On the bottom right hand side, however, was a green post-it note, this one written in English. 'Bye forever you fools,' it read, 'Kisses, C.'

Alex looked up at Sam, who nodded.

"It's from Crowley," Bobby confirmed, handing the ornate parchment to Dean. Sam shifted closer to his brother to see over his shoulder.

Dean scanned it once before looking back up. "Well, who feels like hogtying Death tonight?"

Sam nodded and Bobby shrugged. "Old age is overrated anyhow." He took the parchment back. "I'll get started translating. Should be easy enough. Give me twenty minutes and get back to me." And with that, he sat down at his desk.

Alex held back an amused noise. "Twenty minutes? Wow. That's way too long. I'll be back in ten."

"Oh shut up."

...

Bobby finished translating in nine. It was Dean who came out and got Alex and Sam, who had returned to stripping down the Ford. "He's done," he told them, rapping on the hood to get their attention. "Come on."

When they reentered the house Bobby was still sitting at the desk. "Well, we've got most of the stuff, but we're going to have to make a run for a few things," he said as they walked into the study.

"Like?"

"Like an 'act of God crystallized forever.' "

Sam let out an amused noise, sitting down on the couch. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Thinking it means an actual crystal." Bobby clicked on the trackpad of his laptop, and Alex and Dean walked over to him to see what it was. "See, when lightning strikes sand at the right angle, it crystallizes into the perfect shape of itself."

"Lightning. Act of God."

"Like Zeus," Alex put in helpfully. She studied the website on the screen. A object sat there, long, narrow, and crystalline. Next to the picture sat the words: Category: Fulgurites.

"Jenga. You got yourself a fulgurite and we're gonna need a biggie."

Dean put a hand on the back of Bobby's chair, leaning down. "And let me guess . . . rare."

"I found records of an auction. Winning bidder lives about nine hours from here." Bobby closed his laptop and stood up, leaving Alex no choice but to step out of the way. "We can get there by midnight, summon Death, and be home in time lunch."

"Sounds good to me." Alex walked into the kitchen and threw open the fridge. "I'm guessing we'll be leaving in the next few minutes?"

"As soon as I get everything packed."

...

Alex brushed her fingers over the gate, letting her grace slide the pins into position before turning the padlock. It clicked open and she pushed her way through, Bobby and the two Winchesters close behind. "Back door?" she asked, motioning towards the large mansion across the lawn. "Otherwise there's a door to the, uh, the basement on the right."

Bobby nodded, taking control. "Basement. Dean, stay behind. Take out an security."

"Yep." Dean fell back as the three of them hurried across the lawn and around the side of the house. Bobby reached the basement door first, letting Alex slip past to unlock it herself.

"Hey!" Light fell on her hands, and Alex looked up, squinting against the bright light of the flashlight.

"Excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" When the security guard spun around in confusion, Dean knocked him out with the butt of his shotgun. The man collapsed, unconscious.

Alex let out an amused snort, but Sam turned his flashlight on his brother. " 'Grey Poupon?' " he repeated. "Seriously?"

"It's what popped into my head."

Alex clicked open the lock and the two brothers ceased their bickering, attention turned back to the job at hand. Alex led the way in, grace pushing out to search the entire house. "Two people upstairs," she informed them as she pulled back. "Asleep, as far as I can tell."

"Good." Dean pushed past her to take the lead, and Alex followed him up the stairs, eyes scanning the unfinished basement. As he reached the main floor he veered off to the right; after a second's hesitation Alex followed, leaving Sam and Bobby to search the left.

The room was dark, lit only by Dean's bobbing flashlight and the faint moonlight that spilled in from the dusty windows. Antiques sat on pedestals around the room, and Dean stopped to check out each one. Seeing that all was in order, Alex moved through a doorway into a large dining room. Seeing nothing that remotely resembled the fulgurite, she continued on through the expansive house.

"I'm the one with the firearm, son!" A voice growled, and Alex raised her head, grace pushing out. Two unknown people, one male, one female. They were in the same room with Dean, who was responding in a low voice. A scuffle followed, and Alex ran through the twisting and turning rooms, sliding to a stop to see the two strangers.

They were sitting in two chairs, and Dean had securely tied up the man, and was now starting on the woman, zip tying her wrists to the arms of the chair "Oh," she finally said. "Uh . . ."

She was saved from continuing by the appearance of both Bobby and Sam. Dean looked up. "Okay, yeah. Good. Hey guys. So, uh, this is Dr. and Mrs. Weiss." He slid the makeshift gag — made out of a dish towel as Alex noted — into Mrs. Weiss' mouth before stepping back.

Sam let out an apologetic smile. "Hi. Sorry."

"I found the god thingy." Dean crossed the room to stand by a small glass box. Alex followed him to see that the fulgurite sat inside.

"That's it? It looks like a rock."

"It is a rock." Bobby dropped his duffle bag on the large wooden desk. "Let's light this candle. Here's about as good a place as any." He slid the books off of the desk and held out a piece of chalk. Alex took it and drew a circle on the desk while Bobby pulled out the candles. Remembering the sigil, she drew an X inside, and then an upside down triangle through the lower half. Circles on the corners, and finally a line through the X and triangle with a U shaped mark through the top. Deeming it good enough she stepped back to watch as Sam crushed the fulgurite into the bowl, ignoring how the bound couple across the room yelled their muffled protests. He looked up at Alex, and she smiled in amusement. "They can buy another," she whispered before stepping back.

Bobby poured his blend of herbs into the metal bowl and took Alex's place, fixing the candle's placement one more time before nodding at Dean. The hunter finished arranging the brown paper bag and drink on the counter — they had stopped at a small diner on the way in to get Death pickle chips — before walking over to Bobby, rolling up his sleeve. He winced as the blade slid through his forearm, blood dripping into a smaller bowl. When Bobby nodded again he wrapped his arm in a bandana, muttering out, "You're welcome."

Sam looked half-amused.

Bobby poured the blood in with the rest of the ingredients before clearing his throat. "Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te en mea potestate defixi. Nunc et in arternum."

I now invoke you, death. You are fixed in my power. Now and forever.

The house rumbled as Bobby spoke, and Alex looked around, wings pulled in tight. Books fell off of their shelves, glass shattered, and the ceiling cracked under the pressure, and then all was still. There was nothing.

Alex looked around in confusion; that confusion was echoed on the other's faces as well. Bobby stepped back and Dean moved forward, looking around the room. "Uh, hello?" He turned around to face the room. "Death?"

"You're joking."

Alex jumped at the horseman's sudden appearance behind the Winchester. Dean spun around, surprised. "I'm sorry, Death. This isn't what it looks like."

"Seems like you bound me." Death calmly raised his hands, and a silver, glimmering line appeared between his wrists. When he lowered his hands, they faded. He stepped forward, the moonlight accentuating his pale and sunken face. His eyes, however, gleamed with a black light.

"For good reason, okay? Just hear us out. Um . . . fried pickle chip?" Dean hurried over to the brown bag, holding it out. "They're the best in the state."

"That easy to sooth me, you think?" Death's gaze slid from Dean over to Alex, and then back to Sam. "This is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?"

"What?"

Death ignored him. "Sorry, Sam. One wall per customer. Now unbind me."

"W-We can't," Sam stuttered out. "Y-yet."

"This isn't going to end well," the Horseman warned, and Alex shivered as his displeasure chilled the room. He paced to the other side of the room, turning at Dean's next words.

"We need you to kill God," the hunter explained.

"Pardon?"

"Kill God," Bobby repeated. "You heard right." Death turned to look at Bobby, who finished with a stuttered, "Your . . . Honor."

Death seemed sated with the Bobby's words. "What makes you think that I can do that?"

"You . . . told me?"

"Why should I?"

Dean faltered a bit. "Because . . . We said so, and we're the boss of you." Both Bobby and Sam looked at him, and he quickly added, "I mean . . . respectfully."

"Amazing." Grace mixed with anger pushed through the room and Alex flinched at the overwhelming power. She looked up to see Castiel, mouth falling open at what she saw. The angel's face was red, the skin giving way to sores under his eyes and cheeks. His wings, however, still burned with a holy light, and Alex couldn't understand why the room was still so dark.

"Cas," Sam started.

The angel cut him off. "I didn't want to kill you," he warned, speaking to all of them, "but now . . ."

"You can't kill us," Dean stated.

"You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean." Castiel raised his right hand, fingers together in a snap, ready to destroy all of them.

Dean shook his head, stopping the angel in his tracks . "Death is our bitch," he explained. "We ain't gonna die, even if God pulls the trigger."

"Annoying little protozoa, aren't they?" Death cocked an eyebrow, looking the angel up and down. " 'God?' You look like an awfully mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode."

"No I'm not. When I've finished my work I will repair myself."

"Cas —"

"Alex. Quiet."

Death studied Alex for only a second before looking back to Castiel. "You think you can simply because you're under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worse problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped them in too."

"Irrelevant. I control them."

"For the moment."

"Wait — uh, what older things?"

"Leviathans," Alex spat. "Dammit, Cas, I told you! Look what they're doing to —" Grace pushed against her and she stumbled back, wings trembling in fear.

"Castiel." Death's calm voice had the angel turning his attention back to him. "Long before God created angel and man he created the first beast — Leviathans. I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the whole petri dish, so he locked them away."

"They ate an archangel," Alex explained, cutting off when Death turned his gaze to her. "That's what got them locked away," she finished with a mutter.

Death, however, just nodded in agreement with her statement. "Why do you think he created Purgatory?" he asked Dean, and Alex looked over at Castiel to see that his gaze was on the ground, large wings lowered as he took in what the Horseman was saying. "It was to keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one, thin membrane between the Old Ones and your home."

"Enough."

Death held Castiel's gaze. "Stupid little soldier you are."

"Why?" Castiel stalked forward, wings arching high above his head. "Because I dared open a door that He had shut? Where is He? I did a service, taking His place." He stopped in front of Death, who seemed altogether unintimidated.

"Service? Settling petty vendettas?"

"No. I'm cleaning up one mess after another — selflessly."

"Quite the humanitarian," the Horseman quipped.

"And how would you know?" Castiel stepped closer, staring down into Death's dark eyes. "What are you really? A flyswatter?"

"Destined to swat you, I think."

"Unless I take you first."

Alex shifted closer to Sam, wings pulled in tight at the ever-growing tension between perhaps the two most powerful things in the world.

Death's gaze flickered briefly over to her at the movement, but it was enough to lessen the pressure int he room. "Really bought his own press, this one." He turned around and walked in a small circle, stopping a foot back from the angel. "Really, Cas. I know God, and you sir, are no God."

"All right, put away your junk, both of you." Dean stepped forward, stopping when both turned to look at him. "Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!"

Castiel turned to look at Dean, large, glowing feathers ruffling out in anger.

"Alright, fine." Death raised his hand, ready to smite the angel and Alex looked away, not wanting to watch. Then there was a snap; something shattered, and Castiel was still there. The young angel looked up in time to see the silver bonds around Death's arms fall away. The Horseman lowered his hand. "Thank you. Shall we kickbox now?" He walked over to the chair beside Dean, who quickly backed away, and sat down. "I had a tingle I'd be reaping someone very, very soon." He took the bag of pickle chips and glanced at Dr. and Mrs. Weiss, all but forgotten on the other side of the room. "Don't worry — not you." He turned back to the four of them and then stopped. "Well, he was in a hurry."

Alex looked around to see that Castiel was gone, and she visibly relaxed.

Death ate another pickle chip, and then another before taking his drink in hand. All four stood there in silence, not sure what to do. Sam and Dean stared at each other, each making increasingly more urgent looks with each passing second.

Death finished his chips, and only a few seconds later reached the end of his drink, slurping loudly. Finally Dean cleared his throat. "Uh . . ."

"Shut up, Dean." Death set his drink down on the table, not even looking at the hunter. "I'm not here to tie your shoes each time you trip. I warned you about these souls how long ago?" He threw his crumpled up napkin into the bag, finally glaring over at the hunter. "Long enough to stop that fool. And here were are again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation." The Horseman grabbed his cane and stood up.

"Well I'm sorry. Alright?" Dean's voice grew loud and sharp. "I've been trying to save this planet, so maybe you should find somebody better to tip off."

"Maybe I should have spent my efforts on a different planet," the Horseman countered, his own voice cold and quiet in comparison. "Well, it's been amusing." He turned to go.

"Wait, h-hold on, hold on." Sam stepped forward, obviously very nervous. "Just — can you give us something? You — you have to care a bit about what happens to us."

"You know, I really don't. But I do find that little angel arrogant."

"Great," Dean nodded, "let's go with that."

"Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory. Quickly."

"We need a door."

Death turned to look at Sam. "You have everything you need at that lab. Get him to return there and compel him to give up the power."

"Compel?"

"Figure it out."

Bobby finally spoke. "But that door only opens in the eclipse, and that's over."

"I'll make another. 3:59 Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual. Don't thank me. Clean up your mess." Death moved towards the door before stopping His voice grew threatening, but he didn't look back. "Try and bind me again, you'll die before you start." He walked out of the room. "Nice pickle chips, by the way." Then Death was gone, and the room fell silent.

"Sunday," Alex finally said. "That's in two days. We — we have less than twenty four hours to get Cas to give up the souls."

...

They were back in Sioux Falls by lunchtime the next day. Alex was sitting in the study on her laptop, just trying to pass time until Bobby woke up and they could finally do something.

"You want some coffee with that?" Footsteps signaled the approach of Sam, who was now standing in the doorway between the study and the kitchen. His attention was focused on Dean, who Alex knew for a fact he was holding a half-empty glass of whiskey.

"It's 6:00 pm somewhere," Dean grumbled.

"We got to hit the road," Sam finally said. "I mean, how else are we suppose to get Cas to that lab by fucking 3:59 am?" Alex looked up to see that his backpack was slung over one shoulder, and in his arms was his jacket. He looked ready to go.

"We don't."

A pause, and Alex sat up. "What do you mean, 'We don't?' " she repeated. She closed her laptop and stalked past Sam to look down at the oldest Winchester.

"I mean we can't bring a horse to water, and we can't make it drink. Why fool ourselves?"

Sam sighed. "Dean, I know you think Cas is gone —"

"Cause he is."

"He's not! He's in there somewhere, Dean. I know it!"

"No, you don't."

Sam hesitated . "No, I don't," he finally agreed. "But look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and you never gave up on me."

"Yeah, and it turns out you're about the same open book you've always been." The table creaked as Dean lowered his feet, looking straight up into his brother's eyes. "Hallucinations? Really? I got to find that out from Death?" He reached for the bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the cap.

"What was I suppose to do?"

"How about not lie? How hard is it to tell me that you've got crazy shit climbing those walls?"

"Why? You can't help." Dean put the bottle down and rolled his shoulders back, and Sam continued. "You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and — and I thought — what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It's under control."

"What? What exactly is under control?"

"I know what's real and what's not," Sam expounded.

"Sam —"

"Look, Dean, we can debate this once we deal with Cas."

"Yeah, you know how I'm gonna deal?" Dean threw his legs back up onto the table, leaning back in his chair. "I'm gonna stuff my piehole, I'm gonna drink, and I'm gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the whole fucking world's about to explode because it is. Hey." Suddenly he sat up straight, leaning close to his open laptop as something popped up.

"What?" Alex hurried over to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"You got to be kidding me." Dean pointed the headline of Wixa 4 News. " 'Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench coated man.' There's security footage." He clicked on the video, and the picture started moving. A very familiar looking man was standing in the center, and two people were confronting him, a man and a woman. Alex narrowed her eyes, and they widened once again as the man turned to look into the camera. It was Cas, but Alex had never seen that expression on his face before. His mouth was stretched wide in a smile, eyes dark and . . . almost insane. The video stopped, and Dean and Sam looked at each other. "Well, uh, I think reaching Cas is, uh out of the cards," Dean finally said.

Alex stepped back, not sure what to do. She shook her head, once, twice, and then ran out of the room and up the stairs.

...

Grace pulsed through the house, overwhelming yet weak with pain. Alex sat up, recognizing that feeling immediately. She tore down the stairs and into the kitchen to find Castiel leaning against the wall, hunched over and covered in blood. "Cas?"

"Sam?" Castiel looked up at the tall hunter, who was sitting across from Dean, a glass in his hand. "I heard your call. I . . . I need help." Then the angel collapsed.

Alex ran over to him, dropping to her knees by his side. Castiel remained unresponsive, and she looked up at Sam, eyes wide. "Get Bobby."

...

Bootbock, Kansas

The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight from high above. They were back in Bootbock, Kansas, and it was already 3:40 am. Castiel had woken up in the car, and was now on the ground, back against one of the large pieces of equipment in the middle of the room. Alex sat beside him, doing her best to clean the dried blood off of his face. "We need the right blood," Castiel was saying. "There's a small jar — end of the hall, s-supply closet."

Sam nodded. "Got it." He hurried off, and Castiel hissed as Alex accidentally shifted against his wings.

"Sorry," she murmured, readjusting her position. "You're going to be fine. We'll put the souls back, and you'll be fine."

Castiel brushed her hand away, looking up. "Dean?"

Dean paused from where he was clearing away a wall. "What? You need something?"

"No. I feel . . . regret, about you and what I did to Sam."

Dean's gaze hardened, and he slid a cart out of the way. "Yeah, well, you should."

"If there were time, if I was strong enough — I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die."

"You're not going to die," Alex muttered through clenched teeth, purposefully dragging the rag a bit too roughly against his cheek.

Dean stopped what he was doing, giving the angel the benefit of his doubt. "Okay."

After a second's pause Castiel looked back up. "Is it working?"

"Does it make you feel better?"

"No." Castiel lowered his head. "You?"

"Not a bit."

Castiel sighed, and Alex reached to turn his head so she could reached the other side of his forehead. "You'll be just fine," she promised. "Just, just a bit longer, okay? If you need grace I —"

"No." Castiel shook his head. "I don't need your help."

"Oh. Okay." Alex stood up, discarding the rag off to the side. "Where's Sam?" she wondered aloud. "We need that blood."

Bobby nodded, looking up from where he was reading over the spell. "It's go time," he agreed. "Dean. Go find him."

"Hey —"

"Bobby —"

"Go. Leave her to look after her mate." Bobby stepped aside, and Dean hurried down the hall.

He came back only a minute later, holding the jar. "Sam's MIA," he told them. "He left this on the ground." He checked his watch before hurrying over to the wall and unscrewing the lid.

...

Alex watched as he carefully painted the large sigil on the wall, only referencing the sketch once of twice. When he finished he stepped back, scrutinizing his work for any signs of trouble.

"That's good enough." Bobby shoved his watch into his pocket and stepped forward, pulling Castiel to his feet. Alex helped, only letting go when the angel took a wobbly step forward. "Step right up, Cas." Bobby let go and picked up his book. "Ianua magna purgatorii, clausa est ob nos lumine eius ab oculis nostris retento sed nunc stamus ad limen huius ianuae magnae et demisse fideliter perhonorifice paramus aperire eam."

The sigil began to glow like fire, and then parts of the wall peeled away, being sucked into the darkness behind. Wind swirled through the room, and Alex stepped forward, only to be stopped when Castiel hold out a hand. "I'm sorry."

"Creaturae terrificae quarum ungulae et dentes nunquam tetigerunt carnem eius ad mundum nostrum nunc ianua magna, aperta tandem!"

Suddenly Castiel's wings lit up like the sun, and he threw his head back as the light centered in his chest before shooting out of him and into the hole. The ground trembled and Alex stepped back, unable to tear her eyes away.

Then the hole closed completely, and Castiel fell to the ground.

"Cas?" Dean stepped towards the angel.

Alex dove past him, kneeling in front of Castiel. She took his head in her hands, grace pulsing against his.

"He's cold." Bobby knelt beside her.

"Is he breathing?" Dean asked.

A hand moved through hers to rest in front of Castiel's mouth. Then Bobby said, "No."

"He's not dead," Alex snapped. "His — his grace is still there. I can feel it." She tore her gaze away from Castiel's face for only a moment to add, "And his wings are still there." She vaguely noted that they had returned to their original blue.

"Maybe angel's don't need to breathe," Bobby suggested.

"He's not waking up." Alex's body trembled with exertion as she continued to push at his grace, trying to resuscitate it, but it stubbornly refused to expand, to fill the vessel beneath her.

"Dammit." Dean stood up, and Bobby followed suit. "Cas, you child. Why didn't you ever listen to me? I —"

Suddenly Castiel's grace pulsed outwards, and his eyes snapped open. The sores on his vessel faded, and Alex's wings curled around him. "Cas?"

Castiel blinked, drawing in a deep breath before raising his head.

"Hey. Hey." Dean knelt down, and together he and Alex helped him sit up. "You alright?"

Castiel looked up at Dean. "That was unpleasant."

Alex grinned, throwing her arms around Castiel's neck, pulling him close. "Missed you," she teased, pulling back only when Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get him up," he suggested, and Alex nodded, stepping back so the two hunters could help the angel stand on shaky feet.

"I'm alive," Castiel murmured, turning his head to look at the wall behind him.

"Are you okay?" Alex stepped forward, grace against his. "You — do you feel anything? You got rid of them all, right?" When Castiel didn't respond Alex pushed her way through the two hunters to stare up into Castiel's eyes. "They're gone, right? The leviathans."

Castiel swallowed thickly. "I'm going to redeem myself," he promised her. "I mean it."

"Cas."

Suddenly the angel's wings pulled in tight, and he let out a gasp of pain. "You need to run." Alex opened her mouth to protest but Castiel's wings flared out. "Now!" He doubled over in pain, and then Dean was immediately at his side. "I can't hold them back!"

"Hold them back?" Dean struggled to help Cas stand. "Who?"

"Leviathans!" Castiel shoved Dean away, leaving the hunter to stumble back towards Alex and Bobby. "They held on inside me," he hissed out, wings and voice straining with the effort. "They're so strong."

"What the —"

"I can't fight them." Castiel's grace pulled back, and Alex could physically feel the fight within the angel as energy hummed through the air. "Run!" Castiel's vessel began to convulse, limbs jerking as the supernatural creatures battled for control.

"Go!" Dean shoved Bobby and Alex ahead of them. "Go find Sam. Go get Sam!"

"Too late."

Alex's grace ran cold at the voice. It wasn't Castiel's — it wasn't deep or kind. It was excited, crazed. She spun around to see Castiel's vessel standing there, wings gone. He grinned at the three of them.

"C-Cas?"

The Leviathans grabbed Dean by the jacket, pulling him close. "Cas is, hmm, he's gone." The Leviathans shrugged, a grin across their face. "He's . . . dead." They laughed, and Alex's wings flared out. "We run the show now." With one hand they threw Dean across the room — he hit the far wall, glass shattering beneath him as he fell onto the table.

Bobby's eyes were wide in alarm, and the Leviathan's grinned. "Ah!" They walked over to Bobby and threw him across the room as well, leaving a clear path straight to Alex. "Oh, this is gonna be so much fun." They tipped their head, and Alex saw black flow through their veins, reaching up towards their face.

She stepped back, ready to flee, but not willing to leave her mate. "Cas . . ." she began.

"Cas is dead." The Leviathans approached, excitement in their eyes, and Alex stepped back again. "But we know all about you."

The wall hit Alex's wings, and she stopped, teeth clenched to stop her jaw from shaking. "Bite me," she weakly challenged.

The gleam in their eyes made her immediately regret that decision. "Mm. Don't mind if I do." Suddenly the Leviathans stopped. They jerked once, then twice, and Alex watched in fear as they convulsed again. She felt a sudden rush of grace through the air, pulsing through the vessel, weak but unmistakably Cas. She swallowed. "Cas. Please."

Then the grace was gone. Black ooze dripped down from the vessel's hair line, and some ran down its hands, dripping on the ground below. The Leviathan's stepped forward, but once again they jerked as if up against an invisible fence. With a snarl they finally regained control once and for all, but the vessel was already weakened beyond repair. When they spoke, their voice was cracked and ragged."We'll be back. For you." Without another word they staggered away, black liquid dripping from their limbs.

Alex watched them go, eyes wide in fear, and only when they were out of sight did she let out the breath she had been holding.

"Bobby?" Dean rolled over, and the young angel finally remembered that they were there too. He staggered to his feet, and Alex shakily walked over to him. Bobby rolled over, eyes flickering open, and with Alex's help he stood. Dean leaned against the wall. "Where's Cas?"

"He — they went that way." Alex pointed down the hall. "I . . . that vessel's going to explode, Dean."

"Come on." Dean hurried down the hall, regaining his balance with ever step. "We got to find Sam." He led the way down the hall, yelling his brother's name and leaving Alex and Bobby to follow. They turned the corner, and suddenly Dean moved faster. "Sam!"

Sam was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

"Sam!" Dean put a hand on his brother's chest, trying to shake him awake. "You hearing me?"

Sam let out a gasp, his eyes coming to focus on his brother. "Dean?"

"Whoa. Look at me." Dean waited for his Sam's breathing to slow down. "Hey. All right, button this up. Come on. Let's get out of here." Without waiting for a response he continued on back down the hall. "Come on!"

Bobby followed, but Alex waited for them to pass out of earshot before pulling Sam after them. "What the hell happened?" she asked, voice sharp with fear and worry. "You never showed." Sam didn't answer, still close to hyperventilating, and Alex stopped, looking up into his face. "Hallucinations?"

Sam's eyes locked with her, wide with fear. "Lucifer."

"Sam!" Dean's voice stopped Alex from responding, and she ran after the Winchester. A door sat open and she stepped out into the early dawn, sky light in the east. Bobby was pointing at the black spots on the ground, and without waiting for an answer Alex tore past.

"Cas?" She ran down the hill and through the trees. "Castiel!" Something sparkled in the distance, and as Alex emerged from the tree line she slid to stop. "No." A tall metal fence stood in front of her, the door wide open. The sign next to the door read Public Water Supply, and that was all Alex saw before she was through the door. A large, expansive lake lay in front of her, broken only by a solitary figure out his waist. "Castiel!"

"Alex!" Dean and Bobby were close behind, and the angel immediately started running again. She tore down the shoreline and into the lake reaching only her knees before hands were around her waist, haulig her backwards. "Alex! Stop it! It's too late."

"Let me go!" Alex kicked at Dean, but he held on tight, and she could do nothing but watch as the Leviathans and Castiel disappeared from sight. "No!"

The water suddenly started spinning, a small whirlpool forming where they had disappeared. It grew larger and larger, until suddenly it stopped. Then the water turned black, stretching out further into the reservoir. Then it simply faded.

Bobby was the first to speak. "Aw hell."

"Let me go!"

"He's gone, Alex!"

"Just let me go!" Alex tore herself out of Dean's grasp, stumbling forward before stopping. She desperately searched the water for any signs of life. "No." She staggered, falling to her knees with a painful thud. The angel's wings shook, and she clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling.

"Dammit," Dean finally said.

"You called it. Those . . . whatever you call 'ems . . ."

"Leviathans," Sam corrected. He walked over to Alex as Bobby grunted in agreement.

"Right. If they're in the pipes, they got themselves a highway to anywhere."

"Awesome." Dean walked forward, and Alex watched as he walked to the water's edge and pulled something out. She closed her eyes, listening to how the water dripped from the water-laden trench coat. "Okay. S-So he's gone."

"He's not gone," Alex snapped, glaring up at the hunter. Sam put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "He's not dead, Sam. He . . . he's gonna come back."

"Come on." Sam tried to help her to her feet, but Alex stubbornly refused to move. Sam stood up, and then something was by her head. Alex looked over to see Dean holding out the folded trench coat, and she took it, holding it against her chest as she stared out over the water, waiting.

There was quiet, urgent discussion behind her and then Bobby's quiet but firm voice. "Let her be. Her goddamn mate just died, Dean. The least you can do it let her mourn in peace."

" 'M not mourning cause he's not dead," Alex grumbled, sullenly pulling the trench coat closer.

"Alex?" Sam once again knelt down beside her, voice soft. "We're going to wait by the car, okay? Take your time."

Alex clenched her fists at his words, but didn't verbally rebuke him. She just turned her head away until the Winchester left.

...

She sat there for almost an hour, maybe more. The sun had risen above the tree line, reflecting off of the calm blue water. Alex hugged the trench coat, which had now dried substantially, staring blankly at the reservoir, patiently waiting for Castiel to reappear.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

Alex startled, but didn't look up. "What do you want?"

"I see that he didn't manage to put those souls back in time. I did warn you."

"He put the souls back. The leviathans hung on." When Death didn't respond the young angel finally looked up. "Why are you here?"

"I sensed some sort of tension between the two of you last night and wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"Yeah right." Alex rolled her eyes. "Like you care. And it's none of your business."

"Stand up." When Alex didn't move he nudged her in the leg. "I said stand up," he repeated, and Alex decided it was best not to mess with that tone of voice.

She pulled herself to her feet, grace retreating inside her body as she felt the Horseman's presence in the air. "It's none of your business," she repeated firmly. "And it doesn't matter anymore." She looked down at the coat in her hands. "He's not really around anymore."

"Both you and I know that's not true," Death reminded her. He held out a small bag, and Alex looked at it curiously. "French fry?"

"Why are you here?" the angel finally snapped. "Are you going to kill me or what?"

Death shook his head, unaffected by her outburst. "No. You have many years left to live, Alex. The question is how many." When Alex raised an eyebrow the Horseman continued. "I'm aware of the little miscommunication between the two of you originally. The one, that, as you know, led to those wings of yours."

"Wow. What about 'not your business' don't you understand? Seriously. Does everyone think they can pry into my personal life—"

"Stop." Alex fell silent, and the Horseman continued. "Now, for most of your kind I wouldn't care, but you seemed so miserable I thought I should ask."

"Ask what?"

"If you're happy." Death extracted a fry from the bag and ate it, chewing slowly. Alex rolled her shoulders back, waiting for him to finish. "Happy as an angel."

"Why?"

"Because I can fix that."

"No, no. Why do you care?" Alex studied the man through narrowed eyes. "I mean, why even come and talk to me? According to you, we're nothing by annoying little —"

"Protozoa. Yes. But you're interesting ones as well. I also know the happier you are, the happier those Winchesters are, which will make my job so much easier. So I'm giving you the option. You can either stay as you are and hope you find a mate, or you can go back to being human. One has a lifespan of millenniums, the other maybe five or six decades at best."

"You'd . . . you'd just remove my grace?"

Death didn't seem altogether pleased by her constant questionings, but he answered. "Yes."

"Would it hurt?"

"Are you afraid of the pain?" The Horseman stepped closer, and Alex straightened her back, shaking her head 'No.' "Good. Now. You're starting to wear on my patience, and I'm going to need an answer. I'm only making this offer once." The Horseman extended one hand, palm up. "So what will it be. Yes or no?"

...

Alright. Time for me to take my leave. The next installment will be continued on this story here, but it will be 4-5 months or so, depending on my muse and homework load. I hope you guys are liking this story so far! Feel free to leave questions, review, and/or suggestions for the next season!