"Emily!" It was very faint. She almost didn't hear him screaming. "Emily!"

She ignored it, tightening her grip on Gabriel. "Sweetheart," Gabriel whispered. "You need to go."

"No I don't. I'm here with you," she argued quietly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

She could feel him sigh as the voice screamed out again. "Emily, please!"

"I don't want to," she sobbed quietly into his shirt.

"I know. I know you don't. But Dean has something that will make it better. I promise," he assured her, rubbing her back.

"Emily!" She finally recognized the voice as Balthazar's. "Please…" he sounded broken, "I know I've never been good enough. He was always the one who could get through to you in the end. I know I've never been who you wanted me to be, but I'm trying the best I can. Emily, please…"

"He needs you, Emily," Gabriel said quietly. "Just like I did."

"Stop it!" her scream was muffled in his shoulder. "Stop saying everything in past tense!"

"Emily, sweetheart, look," Gabriel muttered.

"What?" she mumbled into his shirt.

"Just turn around and look."

She reluctantly obeyed, turning away from her angel but never losing contact with his body. They weren't on the moon anymore, but in one of the magnificent hotel rooms they had occupied in France. Emily could see herself in the kitchen, cooking alongside Balthazar. She had forgotten where Gabriel had gone that night, but it was just the two of them.

"Salt," Balthazar said, expectantly holding out his hand.

While stirring the sauce in her pot, Emily reached over to hand him the container with her free arm. "You got the oregano?" she asked.

"Yup," he smirked, temporarily taking the focus off his pan to give her the herb.

"Grazie," she smiled, sprinkling the contents of the jar into the sauce.

"Darling, we're in France. It's merci," he corrected, humor in his voice.

She laughed, "Yeah, whatever."

"Pst, Emily," he muttered, coy smile playing across his lips.

"Huh?" Her focus was on the sauce as white powder suddenly invaded her vision. "Did you just–"

Balthazar immediately backed off, floured hands raised in surrender. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Oh it is on!" she squealed, tossing a handful of flour from the bowl into his face.

He laughed, immediately retaliating. Within seconds, they were entirely covered in flour, the little white particles dancing throughout the kitchen. As Balthazar grabbed the bowl and proceeded to dump the entire contents onto her head, she squealed happily, "No, Dad, stop!"

He immediately froze, the bowl tipped at an odd angle, occasionally dropping pinches of flour which fell around them like snow. "What?" he barely dared to breath.

Her hands flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry, it slipped! I didn't – I mean – shit!"

"Do you mean that?" he asked, his face remaining stoic.

"I…" she floundered for words as she anxiously searched his face for any sign of a tell. She sighed, preparing herself for the worst. "Yeah. I guess, yeah. I do."

To her great surprise, he began to smile. Small at first, before he finally started laughing. "Really?"

"Look, you don't have to go and make me feel like an ass – Balth…what?" He had swept her into a tight hug, and she swore she felt something wet on her shoulder.

From Emily's angle in the kitchen now, she could see Balthazar's face over her own shoulder as he hung on to her duplicate. It struck her that he looked so relieved, and that he in fact had been crying. She tentatively reached out her arm, gently wiping the tear from her angel's face. "Balthazar," she breathed.

"He needs you, Em," Gabriel said quietly.

"But I need you," she spun around to face him again. "What am I going to do without you?"

"What you've been doing for the past year," he smiled brokenly. "And besides, you need to watch his sorry butt while I'm gone."

"How am I going to do it without you?" she asked desperately.

"You've been doing an amazing job so far," he muttered, kissing the top of her head.

She stepped into another hug, leaning her head against his chest. "You're my best friend, Gabriel."

His grip tightened on her. "And your mine."

"Now go on," he urged, finally stepping away from her. "They need you. What's Dean's clumsy ass going to do without you? And little Sammy?"

"They can live without me. They've been doing it for years," she repeated what Gabriel had said to her.

"Balthazar can't." She had no response to that. "Please, Em. If not for him, then for me."

"How am I talking to you right now," she suddenly wondered aloud.

"You'll see, sweetheart. You'll see. Now go on," he smiled sadly.

"I love you, Gabe."

"I love you more."

She stepped back, away from her angel, and she was suddenly falling through the darkness, landing heavily back in her own body, lying on the panic room floor. "Balthazar," she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here," he was immediately by her side, cradling her in his arms. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"Shh, it's okay, love. It's okay."