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Chapter 38

Dean awoke early in the morning, earlier than he would have liked, and poured himself some coffee. It had been two days since he'd talked to Cass and still the angel hadn't made it to headquarters. He was beginning to worry about him. Pushing the feeling down, Dean made his way into the library to find Sam sitting at the huge conference table, reading the same book the poem had been in. It instantly irritated the elder brother.

"The hell are you doing?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Trying to translate this." Sam replied. "There's nothing better to do at the moment."

"Yeah well, why bother? It didn't work." He answered as he took a seat across from the man.

"Dean," Sam sighed, dropping his pencil and looking at his brother. "I just want to see if we missed something in the instructions, okay?"

"Whatever." Dean grumbled into his cup as he finished off the drink. "Well look, I'm going to make a food run. I've got a serious craving for cooked flesh."

Sam chuckled to himself as he continued translating. He wanted to tell his brother eating nothing but burgers and bacon would kill him, but there wasn't a point. It wouldn't stop him.

Leaving his coffee mug behind, Dean pushed himself up and went to change. As he walked through the now familiar halls of the headquarters, he started thinking about the invocation they'd preformed only a day and a half prior. Honestly, it hadn't been far from his thoughts in the first place.

Through their years of hunting and performing all types of rituals in English and other languages, Dean knew they had done it right. They'd followed every step, spoke every word and left little to no room for error. It should have worked. He even did his part, praying and wishing harder than he ever had before for Maggie to show up at the headquarters. But she never did. Her spirit never appeared.

What neither brother realized was the poem had worked, just not in the way they thought. The thing they roused wasn't Maggie's spirit and it was on its way to them.

Pushing the disappointed and hurt feelings down, Dean finished dressing and headed for the front door. He scooped up his keys from the control panel in main room.

"Need anything?" he called to Sam as he jogged up the stairs.

"Nope." Sam replied before thinking better. "Hey, I think I will come with you."

Nodding to himself Dean opened the interior front door as Sam jogged up the steps closed it behind him. When he opened the door that led outside Dean felt his stomach drop. Rain, sheets of it, poured from the sky.

"Awe man." He grumbled to himself.

Wrapping his jacket around his neck and body as much as he could, Dean jogged quickly to the Impala and slid inside. With a turn of the key, he set off towards the closest grocery store or fast food joint. Whichever he came across first is where he planned to eat.

It had started raining twenty minutes prior and while it started slow at first, the wanderer was soon drenched in it. The figure clung to the jacket It had taken from the car It had stolen. When it ran out of gas just outside some town called Lebanon Kansas, they left it behind. It felt It was close and didn't want to bother with another vehicle. Whatever was drawing It forward, whatever kept pushing it to move, was getting stronger. They had to find it.

It's jeans slopped against the asphalt laid road, It's hair hung in tendrils mocking dreadlocks around It's body and the already thick jacket It had stolen that was two sizes too big hung limply from It's body. It was shaking, cold and still confused. It's confusion had led way to slight fear by the time they'd made it to the Kansas border, but still they pressed on. Something was propelling It forward, pulling it close and It couldn't stop even if it wanted to. The closer It was to the thing drawing it, the more the need to be with it became dire. It was becoming the only thing It thought about, even pushing away the desire for food and dry clothing.

It felt pathetic as it trudged along to somewhere it had never been to confront god only knew what. It didn't know what was calling it, or who. It could have been a trap laid by some unholy monster. Worse yet, it could have been a holy one that wanted It. The thought made It shudder more than the icy rain. It had tried once to hesitate in the pilgrimage, to stop for a day or more so It could rest and try to gain It's strength, but it didn't work. In spite of what It wanted, It's body wanted to keep moving forward.

They felt like they wanted to cry. It's body was robotic, allowing it no free will because whoever summoned her had a commanding presence. It frightened them. It had been an all powerful being once, strong, resilient and fierce. At that moment, It was reduced to nothing more than a small paper boat sailing along a raging river. It was at the mercy of something else and no matter how much It fought, It's will was trumped.

As It made It's way down a desolate street that winded through the dense forest outside Lebanon, It began to grow faint. It'd felt that particular sensation once before and they knew it didn't bode well. It's body was worn and it was pushing too hard, but again It had no choice. Whoever had called It wanted it there at any cost, even at risk of it's own health.

The rain stung, falling harder than before and drowning out It's tears and cries. It just wanted to have It's body back. It wanted to be able to fight whatever summoned it. It just wanted peace. That thought was little consolation as the fire in It's gut began to pulse the closer it came to their destination.

It rounded another wide corner in the middle of the woods; sure no one driving by could see It through the thickly falling rain. It curled It's arms around It's body, praying for It's body to stop, but it wouldn't.

At some point, It had wandered into the middle of the road. It wasn't aware of it, or really cared. Part of It hoped the car It heard in the distance would hit It and knock It out completely. It knew it wouldn't kill It. Maybe… Even if it did, that would mean rest. It just wanted rest.

Dean drove through the familiar streets, not paying as much attention as he should to the road. He had a fry shoved into his mouth, sticking partially out of his lips as he chewed lazily on it, beating his steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing. Sam only chuckled to himself at his idiot brother when he spotted something in the distance. His smile faded. A black figure, hunched over and waddling slowly, was in the middle of the road and they were coming up on it fast.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, bracing himself against the dashboard.

"Oh shit!"

Dean slammed on his brakes. The Impala's tires squealed as they struggled to stop on the slick road. The giant car fishtailed. Dean tried to correct it only to slide sideways. For a moment he was at risk of slapping the figure with the back passenger side door only to have the Impala finally stop.

The two men inside the vehicle struggled to calm their hearts, breathing erratically and shaking with residual fear. The body however, simply turned to face them. It looked ghostly. It was small, unnaturally small, with long tendrils of hair shielding its wraithlike face. As his fear began to subside, anger rose within Dean. He shot out of his side of the car and stared at the form.

"The hell's your problem?!" he demanded.

The figure said nothing. It swayed gently from side to side before suddenly collapsing. Sam and Dean weren't sure what to think for a moment. Dean ducked down enough to speak to his brother.

"You think I gave them a heart attack?" he asked, joking but partially concerned.

Sam shrugged his shoulder and opened his door. They had almost made it home without incident. The bunker was barely a quarter of a mile away.

Dean closed his door and slowly began to move around the front of the car as Sam approached the sopping wet figure. He narrowed his eyes to try and see through his hair and the rain, but it was difficult.

"Hey!" he called.

There was no response. Sam looked over his shoulder. Dean had his gun drawn and with a nod told his brother he had him covered. Sam's attention went back to the body. When he reached it, he knelt down and gently took their shoulder in his hand. He rolled them onto their back to see if they were injured while Dean remained a few feet behind, able to see and react better to a possible threat.

With hair still shielding his vision, Sam began to move the thick locks out of the stranger's face. The more he removed the more he knew it was female until pulling back the final thick tendril that stretched across most of her face. Instant recognition and shock ripped through him.

"Jesus!" Sam blurted, standing and stumbling back from the figure on the ground.

"What?" Dean demanded. He couldn't see the victim's features. Her head was tilted away just enough he could see little more than her cheekbones and jaw line. "What?!"

Without answering and moving just as erratically as before, Sam raced as best he could for the figure lying on the ground. He knelt over her and took her face in his hands, partially trying to rouse her, but mostly to make sure he wasn't going insane.

"Dean," he said, turning to face his slowly approaching brother. "It's Maggie."

"What?" the word was breathed more than spoken.

Sam didn't reply as he started to check her for injuries when he felt her skin.

"Jesus, she's freezing." He said, too worried for a moment to be freaked out by her being there. Sam lifted her into his arms and moved towards the car. "We have to get her to the bunker."

Dean couldn't move. Sam's words were swirling in his mind and as much as he wanted to call his brother a liar, he couldn't the moment Sam passed him. He caught sight of Maggie's face dripping with water, her eyes closed and there was no denying it. Dean felt his breath stolen from his lungs.

He was immobile, unable to do the slightest task. Sam yelled at his brother from the car. Dean was shocked back into reality and quickly jumped back into the Impala, speeding the few meters back to the bunker. Sam moved faster than Dean and he was grateful for it. The elder brother wasn't sure he was capable of much.

Dean sat a few feet away from the bed Sam had set Maggie on in the infirmary. He rested with his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He couldn't come to grips with what he was seeing. It was… impossible.

"Seriously, how'd this happen?" he repeated for the hundredth time since Sam had set her down.

"I don't know." Sam defended, answering like he had been repeating the same thing just as often. "What kind of spell was that?"

Dean only shrugged, his mind reeling.

"You know who'd know?" Dean asked rhetorically. He looked up as Sam looked back at him. "An angel."

Sam barely managed to scoff before his eyes glowed blue. Ezekiel looked around the room. He was aware of what happened -still capable of seeing through Sam's eyes- but a little behind. After all, he did spend some of his time within Sam trying to heal them both.

"How the hell is this possible?" Dean asked, pushing himself up from his seat and staring at Ezekiel.

"This is the woman that was inside Sam's head, Magdalena." He said, stepping towards the bed and leaning over her sleeping body. "The one that died helping you."

"Yeah," Dean nodded sarcastically. "Now tell me how she got here."

"I'm not sure. The invocation Sam helped you with was simply meant to bring contact with a deceased person's spirit. It wasn't meant to bring them back entirely."

"I get that." He snapped, losing his patience. While he might have normally been glad she was there, after hearing from Death's mouth personally that Maggie wasn't meant to be walking the earth, he was scared something had gone wrong. He couldn't be happy until he knew what happened. "But she's solid, human."

"No, she's not human." Ezekiel corrected. "She is weak, but she is celestial." He tilted his head to one side and then another before turning a skeptical eye to Dean. "What did you think about?"

"What?" Dean asked, a little disarmed by the odd look in the angel's eyes.

"When you cut yourself, what were you thinking of? Seeing her again?"

Ezekiel's brow slowly rose the longer Dean fidgeted without answering. He remembered exactly what he was thinking about when he offered his blood. He wanted her around, wanted her back and evidently that was what happened.

"Oh shit." He mumbled. "I did this? But… how?"

"Sometimes, wanting something bad enough is enough." He replied cryptically before looking to Dean. "You may wish to sit down again."

Dean was about to ask why only to realize Ezekiel was giving him a heads up that he was giving control back to Sam. Without saying anything, he regained his seat and tried to look like he had before the angel came out. With another flash of blue, he was gone and Sam was back, finishing the scoff he'd started.

"Know any that wouldn't want to kill us?" he asked sarcastically.

"Nah," he sighed, trying to make it look like he was the one who came to Ezekiel's conclusion. Again. "Maybe it was us."

Sam's brows slowly began to pull together.

"What do you mean? We can't do something like this."

"Maybe we wanted it bad enough." He offered, his eyes falling back to the sleeping figure.

Sam left it at that. He didn't want to press because he assumed Dean knew about as much as he did. At least now they knew why her ghost never appeared. It wasn't her ghost they brought back.

"Wow," Sam sighed, running his fingers through his wet hair. He grumbled and suddenly remembered he was still drenched from the rain. "I'm going to go change."

Dean nodded. Sam left. The elder brother went back to sitting and thinking, his mind racing and not bothering to stop on a single thought in particular. It hurt, but was nothing compared to the confusion he felt. He still didn't know how he could have been strong enough to bring Maggie back to life.

He didn't know how long he sat there or how many breaths he counted Maggie took, only that a long time had passed since Sam left. The other young man was likely taking a shower too, something else to keep him busy or maybe even hitting the books to find out what happened. Whatever the reason, he wasn't there was Maggie began to stir. Dean shot to attention quickly and moved to her side.

Maggie felt tired, her body still aching, but the burn was gone. The desire to keep moving, to keep walking despite what she wanted was gone and she felt infinitely better for it. Groaning, Maggie's hands came to her head. She didn't feel right. She knew something was wrong, but she didn't have time to check when she heard movement. Maggie lowered her hands from her face and tried to focus on the figure standing over her. Brief fear touched her until she heard its voice.

"Hey," a familiar rumble greeted.

Maggie's eyes began to focus on a face she never truly thought she'd see again. Relief washed through her like a tidal wave. A smile immediately touched her lips, followed shortly by tears in her eyes. She laughed in disbelief causing Dean to do the same.

When she reached out to hug him, Dean felt himself return the affection. She sat up to better squeeze him to her. She felt his warmth, his heartbeat and knew it wasn't an illusion. Dean was really there and he was the one that called her.

"I never thought I'd see you again." She laughed softly into his shoulder.

Dean's grip tightened.

"Me either." He replied, his voice thick for more than one reason.

While Maggie relished in the obvious signs Dean was more than an illusion, she didn't know he was doing the same. He could feel her skin, smell her hair, feel her heart beating in her chest and he knew she was real. His eyes began to water, a tear or two falling when he closed his eyes.

Eventually, the two began to pull apart. Maggie couldn't remove the smile, staring back at Dean like he was a million dollars on her doorstep. She just couldn't believe it. Maggie reached for and held Dean's jaw in her hands.

"Oh my god," Dean sighed after a moment, his face hurting and his eyes burning. "I think I need a drink."

Maggie giggled again and nodded. Dean smiled and pulled back. He helped her off the bed. Maggie stumbled briefly and again her smile faded. Dean helped her stand as best he could with worry touching his features.

"You good?"

"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "Yeah, no I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy I suppose."

Dean nodded hesitantly, but helped her out of the room regardless. Maggie found herself relying more on his guidance than she would ever truly admit before realizing she wasn't in a normal building. Her brows pulled together as Dean led her into a library and pulled out a chair for her.

"Where are we?" she asked, taking her seat as Dean went for the bourbon.

"The Men of Letters clubhouse." He said, joining her with a full drink for both of them. "Pretty nifty, huh?"

Maggie smiled at his reaction and felt herself nod. Her eyes darted around the vast room.

"Impressive." She nodded. "And uh, how did I get here?"

"We found you walking on the side of the road."

"Mhmm," she nodded again. Slowly Maggie's eyes drifted to Dean. "That part I understand yes, but how did I get here?"

Dean's face dropped slightly. His eyes shifted away from Maggie and his mouth went lax. He started to open and close it partially, like a fish trying to breathe out of water, as he considered how to answer her question. Maggie watched him closely, but it became obvious he didn't know.

"You don't know, do you?"

"No idea." He answered quickly. "I mean, theories yeah, but no idea."

"Theories are good. The ones I had were… well, they were a bit frightening. What are yours?"

"Frightening how?"

"Well," she shrugged slightly. "It takes a lot of power to bring someone back to life, more to do it with something like me. The spell I told you to look up was meant to summon a spirit. This," she pointed to herself and went so far as to pinch her forearm lightly. "Is not a spirit."

"Yeah no, I got that. Honestly, me and Sammy boy thought we did it wrong. Nothing happened for a while so we figured it was either a funky spell or you weren't… you know… allowed to come."

He didn't mean for it to sound insulting and she didn't take it as such. It took her a long time to find something strong enough to summon her spirit from wherever it was she'd been residing.

Silence began to move into the air between them. Neither really knew what to say, so they didn't speak. That was generally the grey area just before they'd start yelling, so both wisely stayed quiet. That was, however, until someone else came into the room.

"Hey Dean," a young man called a second before appearing. "We're out of bacon…"

The moment Kevin saw the young woman sitting at the table, still damp from her time outside, he paused. Kevin's mouth hung open slightly as he pointed to the stranger.

"Who are you?" he asked blatantly.

He'd never seen her before and that was enough to put him on edge.

"Hello there." she greeted warmly. "I'm Maggie."

"Maggie," he repeated, pressing his memory until he found the information. Kevin's face lost a shade or two of color. "That angel chick? Seriously?" his voice turned to a higher pitch as he looked to Dean. "Dude, she's dead."

Dean grumbled under his breath and shot the young man a warning look.

"Not anymore." She replied more causally than either young man expected. "And you are a Profit, aren't you?"

Kevin's face dropped again.

"Mags, that's Kevin and yeah, he's a profit." Dean said. He wasn't really all that surprised she knew.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kevin, but I think I should take a shower." She said as she stood and looked to Dean. "Is there one around here?"

"Oh, yeah." He nodded. "Just down that hall and keep to the left."

Maggie nodded her thanks to him and farewell to Kevin before disappearing down the hall indicated.

"Dude," Kevin hissed when he assumed she was sufficiently gone. Dean shot him another glance, but Kevin didn't notice or care. "I thought you told me she was dead."

"She was." He answered calmly, drinking the remaining alcohol in his glass.