Dean woke up in a large metal cage. He was lying on his side, partially curled up in the fetal position. His torso didn't hurt anymore, but he still started gingerly checking for injuries, only to stop when he noticed the weight on his forearms. His wrists were in manacles that were each attached to a two-foot length of heavy steel chain, which were bolted to the concrete floor. The cage was about seven feet in each dimension and housed in the center of a small one-room building.

The building looked worn, with rusted corrugated metal walls and a doorway that was covered by little more than heavy canvas cloth. It wasn't as warm or humid as it had been in New Orleans, which was a relief in the compact metal building. The only piece of furniture in the room, aside from the cage—if that could be considered furniture—was a wooden table. There were no chairs in the room, which Dean found strange because there were two other people sitting in the room with him.

A lean black man with a two-inch afro peppered with a few silver hairs and a goatee sat cross-legged directly in front of Dean, but outside the cage. His pants and boots appeared to be military, but he wore a badly-faded black t-shirt featuring a spiky pink ball and an even older-looking, slightly-oversized, tan jacket. Three necklaces hung from his neck; two carried pendants and one was a silver locket. The visible parts of his arms and neck were covered in tattoos that looked like runes. He was grinding something with a mortar and pestle.

On top of the wooden table sat a woman with pale skin and brown hair that reach her mid-back. She had dark brown eyes that were watching Dean like he was a bomb about to go off. She wore military-style boots, cargo pants that seemed to be reinforced with strips of heavy leather, a plain black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. An old scar cut across her right cheek, and she wasn't wearing any jewelry except for a necklace that matched one the man was wearing. She wasn't doing anything aside from watching Dean and sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered while pushing himself upright.

"Not quite," the woman replied.

"Sorry about the restraints, but we have to take precautions," the man apologized without looking up from his work for more than a second.

"You guys shot me and chained me up. It kinda seems like I should be more worried about you than the other way around," Dean countered.

He was pretty upset and felt justified in giving these people as much shit as possible, but he held himself back from actively picking a fight. After all, he was the one chained up in a cage, but more importantly, he was alive and fully healed, which seemed surprising the more he thought about it. These people, or someone, had saved his life and he didn't want to make them change their mind(s) before his three days were up.

"You have to understand, you were wandering around in a hot zone," the man continued, trying to excuse the circumstances. "You're pretty lucky actually. They would've just left you there except for you looking like you do…."

"Looking like what?"

"Like Dean Winchester."

Dean paused for a second. This guy knew who he was—or at least who Dean Winchester was. The man put down the pestle, drew a lighter from his jacket pocket, and lit the contents of the mortar. He blew out the fire, but the bowl kept smoking slightly, then slid it toward Dean.

"The question is, what are you?" the man said as he looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "We've tested you with iron, silver, largus root—all the usual tricks, and you've checked out so far."

Dean felt conflicted. On the one hand he didn't know who these people were and whether they were trustworthy. On the other hand he was at their mercy and out of options besides waiting the three days until Castiel retrieved him. His instinctive reaction was to be as obstructive as possible, but he felt... tired. A strange calm started to creep into his mind and he thought maybe time had slowed down slightly. Dean gazed down at the smoking mortar and frowned weakly.

"You're drugging me…." His head drooped an inch or two. "That's cheating."

"Maybe, but I'll try to spare you too much embarrassment. What species are you?" The man's tone was a combination of reassuring and focused. He seemed to be making a concerted effort not to be any more threatening than he needed to be, which Dean noted.

Dean scowled, a little offended by the question. "Human."

"What is your name?"

"Dean Winchester."

The man glanced back at the woman, who shrugged. He tried again. "What name were you given when you were born?"

"I told you, Dean Winchester."

"What were you doing in New Orleans?"

"I was looking for help... or information about where to find help."

The man leaned forward to look at Dean with a newfound curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"I'm supposed to find out what happens, so that we know what to do."

"Who's 'we'?"

Dean couldn't stop himself from rattling off the list. "Me, Bobby, Sam, some angel named Castiel, a bitch demon named Ruby, and my niece."

The woman hopped off the table and stood behind the man's left shoulder. Her posture reminded Dean of a soldier at ease. He began to suspect she was the man's bodyguard, but Dean couldn't see any weapons on her.

The man pressed forward with the questioning. "What do you mean by 'find out what happens'?"

"That angel, Castiel, sent me forward five years to get a sneak peek at the future so that we know who we can trust and what to do."

Apparently he had said something that the two of them found very interesting because the man turned to the woman for her reaction. The woman spoke to the man in a language that Dean didn't recognize. It didn't even sound like a romance language. The man nodded while releasing a soft sigh, then replied in the same language. They spoke for a minute and based on the conversation's tone, they were both concerned about something.

"What's going on?" Dean managed to ask through his stupor, but the other two didn't seem as compelled to give up information.

"Did anyone else come with you?" the man asked after finishing the conversation with the woman.

"No."

The man covered the mortar with his palm and whispered a few words. The smoke stopped as Dean's head began to slowly clear.

"I'm sorry about the smoke, but we had to get straight answers—"

He was interrupted by what sounded like a sudden gust of wind and wings flapping. Dean saw the canvas door ripple from the breeze. Two men began talking outside, but he couldn't make out their words.

"Shit," the woman said as she walked toward the door. "I'll see if I can take care of—"

But she was cut off when a man entered the room. His sandy blonde hair was short, but messy. He had unnaturally bright blue eyes, subtly pronounced cheekbones, and pale stubble along his jaw. There was a strange beauty to him despite the fact that he looked like he didn't own a mirror. He wore the same boots as the others. On his hips were two holstered pistols and what looked like a sheathed sword was on his back. His light grey jacket and pants were an unusual design that appeared to have light armoring on the outside of the limbs and chest. The jacket also had an extra panel of fabric that was almost a foot wide, which extended the length of the back, but was open on the sides. He stopped just inside the doorway and stared at Dean with a completely neutral expression that seemed oddly familiar.

"You're supposed to be CAG on the perimeter," the woman told the newcomer in a tone that clearly conveyed her disapproval.

"I put Moriel in charge. She's more than capable, especially during a ceasefire," the blonde man replied. The woman appeared to be his superior officer, but not by much if he seemed so calm rebuffing her complaints. "What is he?"

"As far as we can tell he's the real deal—or some variant of the real deal," answered the man on the floor cleaning up the mortar and pestle.

"He's human?" The blonde man tilted his head and took a few steps toward Dean. Once he was a little closer Dean realized that the newcomer was younger than his rigid behavior had initially led Dean to believe. He must've been in his late teens or early twenties.

"How many people know about this?" the woman asked the kid while gesturing at Dean.

"It's already on pirate radio. That's how I found out while on duty."

"So much for playing this one close to the chest," the man sitting on the floor complained.

"Talial, come in here," the brown-haired woman yelled, causing a short woman who must've been guarding the door to enter. She looked normal enough, but Dean felt his blood cool when he saw that she had an angel blade holstered at her side. He realized that Moriel and Talial sounded an awful lot like Uriel and Castiel. Maybe all angels names ended in L... but that didn't fit with Lucifer. In any case he wouldn't have been surprised if the woman was an angel, which posed the question of what these other people were. The blonde kid talked about being human like it was something unexpected, but maybe he was thinking of something more mundane like a shifter.

The shorter, possibly-angel woman stood at attention in front of the brown-haired woman.

"I want you to go work crowd control on this situation," directed the brown-haired woman. "We can't have news of him getting out or we'll have a real mess on our hands."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Talial left, she didn't bother to address the men at all. Dean was beginning to suspect that the brown-haired woman was a higher ranking military figure in this organization. Though he noticed that her two apparent subordinates were both armed and she wasn't. It was possible that their group was big enough that she didn't actually need to fight or maybe she just wasn't geared up. The blonde kid had said something about a ceasefire.

This psuedo-military vibe reminded Dean of how Castiel talked about his garrison. That combined with the woman sporting the angel blade and all the angelic sounding names continued to give Dean a sinking sensation. He decided to just be direct about the situation.

"So, what," he asked his three captors, "I've been grabbed by angels?"

"Actually, the squad that nabbed you was two humans, a ghoul, and a demon." She made the comment without looking at Dean; she was too busy watching the blonde kid grimly.

Dean's face scrunched up slightly at what must have been a bizarre attempt at a joke. There was something about her that he didn't like, aside from the fact that she was one of the people keeping him in a cage. "Listen, lady. I've been through a whole lot of shit in the last few days. I'm sore as hell, and I don't know what the fuck is going on. So don't start making jokes. I saw the angel's blade and those names sound awfully angelic."

She stepped forward and squatted to be at eye-level with him. Her stare was incredibly intense, so much so that Dean felt he might have recoiled slightly. She had a presence that could command authority and she definitely had experience using it.

"I'm not joking." She was visibly frustrated by his accusation.

The man on the floor waved her off and tried to calm the situation. "Alright. Let's have a civilized conversation like we're all adults. Dean, you might find this hard to believe, but we're on your side."

"Really? Because I'm not getting that vibe." Dean rattled his chains.

"I think the situation is a bit confused. We need to make sure we're all on the same page before we figure out how to proceed."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all," Dean muttered, interpreting 'proceed' as possibly including dumping his corpse.

"What date was it when you left?" the man on the floor asked.

Dean furrowed his brow, confused by the question. He had already told him that he was sent from five years earlier. "December 15, 2009."

The three captors exchanged looks of surprise and interest.

"Well, there's your problem. On December 15, 2014, New Orleans was blacked out," the woman explained, then leaned over to the man sitting on the floor next to her. "I told you something was off."

"Was 'blacked out'?" Dean mouth went dry around his words. He had no idea what 'blacked out' meant, but 'was' he recognized with rising fear.

"In 2013, Heaven dropped the equivalent of a magic E.M.P. on an 800-mile diameter section on the southern United States, including New Orleans. No magic in that whole area until it fully wears off," explained the man on the floor.

"You missed your target," the woman added. "It sounds like you skipped along the timeline like a rock on the water until the anti-magic aura wasn't strong enough to keep you out."

"What?" Dean whispered.

"Welcome to December 15, 2039."

Dean's heart started pounding and he suddenly felt light-headed. He had been relying on being brought back by Castiel, who would be searching for him in December 18, 2014. He was twenty-five years past that and had no idea how he was going to get home.

"You okay?" the woman asked in an unexpected display of concern. "You look a little green."

"I was supposed to get brought back from 2014…. He's not gonna know where to find me." Dean tried to take a few calming breaths, but they weren't doing much for him.

"What do you think Dyl? Do we even have enough juice to throw him back thirty years?" she asked the blonde kid, who considered her question for several seconds before answering.

"One way or another we could probably make it work," Dyl speculated. "Kali would know better than me."

"We'll have to get her advice anyway on how to get him back without paradoxing the world out of existence or something like that," said the man who was finishing packing up his mortar and pestle.

"I'll ask if she can meet with us in the next few days," Dyl told them. "She'll be very interested to see what's happening."

Dean stared at his captors and blinked in disbelief at their willingness to get him back home. "I don't get it. Why are you people helping me? Who are you?"

The three of them exchanged looks, uncertain of how to react to Dean's questions. The two men ended up deferring to the woman, who shot them a look as if to call out their cowardice and shook her head. She huffed a little laugh, then smiled at Dean.

"I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me." Her posture turned in slightly, for the first time betraying a lack of confidence. "The last time you saw me I was only a day or two old."

Dean stared at her in confusion that slowly transformed into shock. She looked like the meatsuit Ruby had been using with a few small differences. Her hair was a lighter brown, reminiscent of Sam's, and she had his nose and smile—when she did smile. She also seemed taller than Ruby had been; actually considering that her military style boots lacked a heel, she must've been about 5'10". For a moment Dean considered that maybe one of the reasons he had initially disliked her was the strong resemblance to Ruby.

Dean opened up his mouth, fumbled on his words, then managed to whisper, "Kaylee?"

"That proves it. He's really Dean! Only the folks and Uncle Dean call me Kaylee." She grinned at the other two men. She decided to clarify her statement after seeing Dean's dumbfounded expression. "Most people call me Kay, if that."

"Most people call you 'ma'am,'" Dyl corrected.

"I mean people that actually know me."

Dean was barely processing what had just happened. She was his niece, but she was thirty years old... almost the same age as him. She seemed to be taking it all a lot better than he was. Her comfort level with the insane situation made him feel even more concerned about what kind of a world he'd walked into.

"So, Cas sent you forward to get some ideas on what to do—" She began, but Dean interrupted her.

"Cas?"

"Castiel." She looked perplexed for a moment and then realized what the issue was. "Oh man. You've only known him for a few days. I guess you haven't given him the nickname yet."

"I give him a nickname?" Dean's eyebrows rose. "The nerdy, little angel in the trench-coat and I become friends?"

Kaylee looked at the other two men unsure how to respond. The blonde man's lips thinned and the other man shrugged helplessly. "Yes... you two are best friends," she answered. "This is so weird, giving you a future history lesson."

"Aren't you worried about 'paradoxing the world out of existence'?" Dean didn't know if he should be covering his ears for fear of causing the universe to implode. He suddenly regretted not asking Castiel about a thousand more questions before agreeing to their stupid plan.

"You've already seen enough to probably screw things up. We might as well just go with it for now. If there's any risk of damage from talking to us, we can just wipe your memory before you go back," Kaylee suggested. "The whole clusterfuck-realization-events are probably just when you're actually making the jumps."

"Those would be the highest moments of risk," Dyl confirmed.

"Let's check with Kali before we risk Dean meeting Dean, just to be safe," the other man added, earning a nod of agreement from Dyl.

"Wait. I'm still alive?" It hadn't occurred to Dean that he would live to be sixty years old. He'd always assumed that he'd die young on the job… again. If anything, Sam was the one he had pictured— "Is Sam alive?!"

"You're alive. Dad's... alive. Mom and Cas too." Kaylee waved a hand in a gesture vaguely indicating a group of people somewhere else.

"Bobby?" Dean asked weakly, knowing that that would put Bobby in his late-eighties at best.

"Sorry. No…. He... went out fighting." Kaylee frowned slightly in understanding that that was hardly a comfort. After a moment of unpleasant remembrance, she looked up with a little more enthusiasm. "In your time do you know Tom?"

She gestured to the black man, who was getting up from the floor. He smiled at Dean hopefully, but Dean shook his head.

"No, I don't know any Tom," Dean replied.

Kaylee exchanged a meaningful glance with Tom, then turned toward Dyl. "This is Dylaniel or Dylan. He's…." She looked over at the blonde man unsure of how to introduce him.

"I'm Kay's second-in-command," he explained flatly.

"Wait, command of what?" Dean asked.

"The North American branch of the Army of the Free Earth," Kaylee said matter-of-factly. "Welcome to the Apocalypse."

December 15, 2009 1:15pm

Everyone quietly processed the latest piece of bad news. By that point it was hard to think of anything that could really shock them and disappointing turns kept coming with such regularity that they didn't pack nearly as much punch. Yet the sum of one struggle after the next had left them all too fatigued to really tackle the problem with any enthusiasm.

Bobby leaned against a wall and closed his eyes in frustrated thought. Castiel sat quietly, relatively unmoved by the revelation. Ruby slouched on the couch and watched Sam, who cradled Kaylee for some minor comfort. Dean pulled a quarter out of his pocket and held it up thoughtfully.

"Anyone feeling lucky?" He asked as he flipped the quarter, caught it in midair, then slapped it onto the back of his left hand. His right hand continued to cover it as he looked over at Sam.

"Heads," Sam said after a few seconds, playing along with the demonstration of the bleak chances.

Dean peeked at the result and told everyone, "Heads. We didn't get blown up."

"Now if only we could keep up the good luck," Bobby muttered.

"Holy fuck. That could make the difference." Ruby sat up as the cogs in her mind started spinning. "If we make a luck spell in advance, it could knock out some of the spell failure risk. The luck spell doesn't have to get through the interference of the wards and it can be obvious because it'll be contained to the immediate area. It might take a few days or so to design, but that's better than weeks or months and it could make this whole thing less suicidal."

It took a few hours for Ruby to work out the extensive list of spell components and equipment she needed to try making a luck spell. She explained that the overall process could take several attempts since the odds of executing a luck spell were low, but at least failure didn't cause any damage, only lost time. The irony of needing luck in order to create a luck spell didn't escape any of them. After Castiel returned with her supplies, she began laying out some of the components on the table.

"Hey, could one of you give me a hand with this?" Ruby held up a plastic baggie of mummified mice for the guys to see.

Dean kicked his feet up on the couch and grinned to emphasize how committed he was to not partaking in any activity involving dead rodents. Sam handed him the baby as a consolation responsibility, then joined Ruby.

She drew a series of runes on the table in chalk while Sam timidly cut the feet off the mice. Ruby had started instructing Sam about the tails when she stumbled slightly to her right. Her arms reached out for the tabletop, but couldn't quite grip it for stability. She knocked over several bottles, one of which fell to the ground and shattered.

"No—No! Argh!" She hunched forward clutching her chest as she cried out in pain and anguish. Sam immediately stopped what he was doing and grabbed her to provide support. After a second she looked up at him with solid black eyes. "It's the coven. Something's wrong. I can feel it."

"Angels might be attacking it," Castiel suggested. "It is likely they would attempt eliminating parties that would give you and Sam quarter."

Ruby was shaking and Sam couldn't tell if it was from pain, shock, or anger—likely all of the above. She pulled away from him, rushed around the table, grabbed one of the two angel blades, then disappeared. Sam looked around frantically. He knew that she had said she had a duty to protect them, but he had no idea that she'd be willing to potentially jump into a fight with an unknown number of angels. It was reckless, but he couldn't just let her get herself killed.

"We have to go get her!" Sam pleaded with Castiel.

"Sam, you can't just chase after her!" Dean stood up in alarm, still holding Kaylee.

"It's Ruby!"

"But they're—" Dean began, but Castiel and Sam were gone.

Castiel and Sam appeared in the clearing between several of the coven's houses. They were on the southeastern edge of the camp, away from the more active northern side that had the barn and community building. As soon as they had touched down it was clear that something was wrong. A significant plume of black smoke rose from one of the far houses, smelling like ozone, and a crackling noise came from an indistinct location.

Thirty feet away on ground was the body of a woman. Sam ran over to her and rolled her over to see if she was alive. Her face was frozen mid-scream, but all insight into her fear was gained by the shape of her mouth. Her eye sockets were hollow and scorched. He felt for a pulse, but found none.

"She was smote," Castiel said as he walked past him toward the main part of the camp. "There is nothing we can do for her."

Sam stared at the dead woman for a moment longer, transfixed. That was what Uriel had tried to do to him. The angel had tried to smite him. He'd somehow managed to defend himself and had even killed Uriel. He only hoped that he could figure out how to do it again. Castiel held their remaining angel blade and he was left to make do with his powers, as unpredictable as they might be. But he wasn't scared for himself. Somewhere out there was Ruby and who-knew-how-many of the coven needing their help.

He got up and flexed his empty hands as he followed Castiel between the quiet buildings. After a few seconds they could hear the sound of fighting and a man scream. Rushing around the corner, they found a scene that made Sam sick and enraged.

The central clearing was littered with over a dozen bodies. Only a few feet to his right was the edge of the vegetable garden that Tom had taken so much pleasure in showing him a year earlier. Now it was practically a graveyard. Between the rows of vegetables were four children with empty eye sockets. Parts of the soil were deeply gouged and burnt, giving the distinct impression that some of the witches fought back. In fact, one of the bodies was unfamiliar and instead of having his eyes burnt, his skin had a blue tinge to it.

Castiel hadn't slowed down at all while passing by the bodies. He walked with purpose, looking out for other angels while searching for Ruby or any other survivors. Sam was trying to fight through his shock, but it was difficult. When he found Pascoe, he fell to his knees. Small curls of smoke were still rising from the holes were Pascoe's eyes had been. His left palm was intentionally cut open, probably for a spell.

As Sam was looking at his friend's body, two angels appeared in the clearing. Castiel yelled a warning to him while parrying an attack. Sam turned just in time to see the second angel reaching for him. Rolling out of the way, Sam's anger mixed with adrenaline and he telekinetically slammed the angel into the mud. He lunged at the attacker, landing on the angel's chest, and gripped his throat. Two different instincts fought for dominance in Sam. The human side of him crushed down on the angel's windpipe, while the other side of him wanted to burn the angel alive from the inside out. Light glowed below Sam's hands as the angel spasmed, unable to cry out. Light shone from the angel's eyes and mouth as the his body went limp and a pair of charcoal wings marked the ground.

Castiel had landed the killing blow on his own opponent, and looked over at Sam in time to see him use his new power on the angel. The sight was somewhat alarming, though Castiel couldn't fully understand the reasons for his feelings. Another angel appeared beside Castiel and nearly landed a hit while he was distracted watching Sam. Sam got up and moved to help Castiel when the sound of a child screaming came from nearby.

"Go!" Castiel yelled as he blocked an attack.

Sam ran in the direction that the scream had come from, but he couldn't find its source. He passed another group of bodies that included two children. It wasn't clear how long they'd been dead. All the bodies were fresh. The screaming child could've been one of the two in front of him, or it could have run away or hid somewhere…. Sam turned and ran for the barn.

He dropped through the already-opened trapdoor into Tom's 'secret fort,' landing behind an angel. The angel turned to face Sam, who placed his hand on the angel's chest. Brilliant light came from her eyes and mouth before her body collapsed to the dirt floor. Beyond the body, Belda knelt with six small children huddled around her.

"Sam?" she whispered.

"Castiel, I need you!" Sam hoped he would be heard. After a second's delay Castiel appeared before Sam. "Get them to safety."

Dean had been pacing the small, dingy apartment while Bobby tried to busy himself with Kaylee when Castiel teleported into the apartment living room. He was about to throw up his hands and yell at whoever had returned when he saw that the angel was accompanied by a young woman who was surrounded by six children, including two infants she clutched to her chest.

"You will be safe here. I must return to the fight," Castiel told the woman before disappearing with no further explanation.

Dean looked down at the woman and kids. He hadn't been expecting kids. When he thought of a coven, he thought of old witches, not children. The woman wasn't even old; she was probably in her early twenties. Her face was steeled, but Dean could tell that behind the act she was terrified. The children were crying or frightened into complete silence. Dean crouched down in a non-threatening gesture.

"I'm Dean, Sam's brother. It's okay. You're safe here."

Sam ran to the community building, carefully stepping to avoid several bodies while crossing the clearing. He wanted to stop to check if anyone lying on the ground was alive, but by then he knew that angels wouldn't merely injure. Turning into the social hall, Sam saw an angel looking at the floor. Gabin's body was at her feet, eyes burnt out of the sockets. Sam ran in and mostly dodged her attack with an angel blade, only suffering a small cut on his left shoulder. He killed her with one luminescent grasp, dropped her, then knelt down beside Gabin. Sam ran his hand over his face in grief. His palm came back damp with tears and blood. He didn't know when he'd started crying and the way that the taste of blood fell into his lips he suspected that using his powers had caused another nose bleed. He wiped his face quickly, then made to get up and continue looking for Ruby when he heard a noise.

A quiet rustling came from a cupboard a few feet in front of him. He crept forward and opened the door slightly. Tom was curled up in the cramped space. His arms were wrapped defensively around his head and his whole body was trembling. He peeked between his hands at the sound of the cupboard door opening.

"Sam!" Tom squeaked in a startled gasp.

"Listen, I'm going to get you out of here." Sam looked around the room, which was blocked from Tom's view by the cupboard door. "I need you to do something for me. I'm going to carry you. I need you to hold onto me and keep your eyes shut. Can you do that?"

Tom nodded. Sam leaned forward and scooped up the young boy. Tom wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, then pressed his face into his rescuer's shoulder. Sam held him in his arms, but supported him in such a way that his right arm could still be used in a pinch. Sam stood and started making his way out of the room.

"Just keep your eyes shut until I tell you it's okay to look," Sam whispered as he carried Tom past his dead father and the bodies of a dozen coven-mates. Sam turned a corner to find Ruby. She had some blood on her and held a large tome.

"Did you find anyone else?" she asked.

"I had Castiel take some back to safety. Did you?"

His question only earned a shake of her head. He didn't know what to say to her.

Ruby looked faint. Of course she did. Not only had she lost friends, she'd lost people under her protection—and on some additional level she'd actually felt it.

Castiel suddenly appeared next to them and said, "It is likely that more angels will be arriving soon."

"I don't feel anyone else." Ruby referred to her connection to the coven. "I think we're it."

"If this child is the last survivor, then we should leave this place, "Castiel suggested.

Sam thought about trying to cover Tom's ears, but it was too late. He took one last look around the once peaceful little community before they teleported back.

In spite of the woman and the traumatized children taking refuge in the large bedroom, Dean had fully intended to yell at Sam for running off, but he stopped himself when he saw that Sam was holding a young boy. Sam sat down on the awful couch and hugged the kid for a few long seconds.

"Tom, we're safe," Sam said softly. "You can open your eyes."

But the boy didn't look. He just kept his arms wrapped tightly around Sam's neck.

Sam gently patted his back. "Tom, I need you to do me a favor. There are other kids here with Belda. She's going to need help taking care of them. Do you think you can go help Belda?"

He felt Tom nodding. When the boy looked up at Sam, his eyes were pink, but his expression was resolute. Tom climbed down and walked into the other room, which emitted the quiet sounds of whimpering children. Sam looked down at his shirt and noticed two damp spots where Tom had been crying.

The concern and outrage that Bobby and Dean had felt at the reckless move was quickly replaced with sympathy for the devastation of everyone around them. Castiel was unreadable, but he did not make eye contact with anyone.

Ruby placed the tome down on the table, then clutched a glass bottle so hard that it shattered in her hand. Sam hurried over to her and tried to check her bleeding hand. She was too upset to let anyone help her, so she pulled her hand away from him, but didn't otherwise retreat. He wrapped his arms around her to embrace her. She thrashed with rage and helplessness, but eventually she let herself be held and cried into his chest.

Dean tried to say something reassuring after the painful silence. "At least you saved the kids."

"The coven had fifteen kids," Ruby said.

Dean did the math in his head and cringed.

After Bobby spotted Sam struggling with his powers-induced nosebleed, Sam had been instructed to take the smaller bedroom and get some rest. For two hours he lay awake on the twin mattress with Kaylee sleeping on his chest. He'd lost several friends that day—and those were just the ones he'd known about. Castiel had said that the angels would go after anyone who would be likely to give him and Ruby shelter. There were dozens of people that might be on Heaven's hit list because of him and he had no idea where they were to warn them.

While he was deep in unpleasant thoughts, the door opened slowly and Tom tiptoed in. The boy approached the side of Sam's bed, then silently lay down on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered.

There was a little shuffling sound and Tom peeked over the edge of Sam's bed. "I couldn't sleep." He looked down in embarrassment. "I… I had nightmares."

"It's okay. Everyone gets nightmares, but you're safe here." Sam tried to reassure Tom, but knew that it didn't mean much after the day he'd had.

"Could I sleep in here?" Tom asked quietly.

He didn't quite know how to respond, but nodded. Tom lay back down on the floor. Sam looked around the sparsely furnished room, sighed, then scooted toward the side of the bed that was against the wall.

"Tom, you can get in the bed."

The boy climbed onto the tiny portion on mattress that was left. Sam felt a little awkward sharing the bed with a six-year old, but he wasn't about to let the kid sleep on the disgusting floor. After a few minutes, Tom fell asleep hugging Sam's side.

For several hours Sam lay there, Kaylee sleeping on his chest and Tom sleeping next to him. He thought about all the destruction that had been caused or might be caused because of him. His family and friends were struggling to find resources that might be dying at the hands of angels at that very moment. They didn't have a long-term plan or a safe harbor sufficient to accommodate the six adults and eight children in the apartment. With their contacts potentially being hunted by angels, they didn't have days to try to improve their luck.

After Tom was deep asleep, Sam carefully climbed off of the mattress, only stirring the boy slightly. He stood alone in the negligible hallway for a few minutes holding Kaylee. When he was ready he kissed her tiny forehead, then went into the living room. Ruby walked up to him to see how he was doing, but before she could ask, Sam handed Kaylee to her. Holding the back of Ruby's head with one hand, Sam kissed her deeply. Bobby, Dean, and Castiel all stopped talking and turned to look at the strangely affectionate display.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized to Ruby, who looked up in confusion at him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Sam reached into his pocket and withdrew Crowley's talisman. He smiled sadly, then clenched his hand around the metal disc.

"Wait—" Ruby tried to stop him, but Sam disappeared.