Hey hope you all enjoy this chapter, and a massive thanks as always to everyone who's left a reveiw or a favourite, big hugs to you all! ;) And on a completely different note, did anyone watch the point of no return this week? OMG Cas!!! And Adam!!! (Hope I've not ruined if for anyone who hasn't watched it but OMG) :)

Miriana was certain she had broken every single speed limit driving down to Our Sister of Mercy Hospital in Maine. She felt sick with trepidation and anxiety. She didn't know the extent of her aunt's injuries; she hadn't asked Ethan anything but the most basic question of where is she? She wished she had asked, so at least she could prepare herself in some way. What if it she was so badly injured she never recovered, just languished in a coma until they switched the life support off? From what she had been told by others, that was the state that Miriana had been left in after the first run in with Reuben, relying on a machine to breathe for her and so close to death her aunt and Nate had considered letting her die. But she had fought back, pulled herself from her coma. But she was young and healthy; her aunt was far older and weaker.

She found her aunt's room on the third floor of the hospital, a cluster of people in the hallway outside the door. Nate's familiar figure broke away from the door and strode towards her, throwing his arms around her waist when he reached her. When he pulled away she noted the dark, sickly purple shadows underneath his eyes and the colourless pallor of his skin.

"You look exhausted," she said quietly.

"I am," he said, rubbing a hand across his forehead, "But I haven't had chance to stop."

"How is she?" she asked, her stomach clenching when she thought of the possibilities.

"She's awake, just about," Nate replied, "The nurse is in with her."

Miriana glanced over Nate's shoulder at the group of people gathered outside the door, "Who are this lot?"

"All my friends' brothers, sisters, friends, hunters, they all wanted to help us hunt down the demons that did this."

"Was it..." she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly feeling bone dry, "Was it Reuben?"

Nate shook his head, "We don't think so. It was his coven we reckon, though." He turned to face the group of people, "I'll introduce you."

The circle of people parted to let the two of them in, "Guys, this is Miriana."

"The famous Ms. Westchild," said a burly, man at the back of the group, "Pleasure to finally meet you properly."

He was a thickest man with the build of what looked like a small rhino, with close cropped dark hair and coiling tattoos down his arm.

"This is Sawyer-" Nate began, but he cut across him by holding up his wide hand.

"Tank, please. I hate my name, I sound like some gay male model or something," he rumbled in his deep voice, folding his arms across his massive chest. Miriana could understand why his nickname was tank; he looked as strong and as powerful as one.

"Yeah, uh...Tank," Nate continued, "And his hunting buddies, Rhea," he gestured at a small, petite woman with a pale golden bob who waved and flashed a bright smile, "And her boyfriend, Frankie." A tall man dressed in battered jeans and a leather jacket with a head of dark, close cropped curls inclined his head towards Miriana.

"You know Jack," he said, thumping his friend on the shoulder, jerking him from his appreciative study of Miriana, blushing furiously.

"And this is his brother, Ethan." Looking at him, Miriana recognized him instantly. He was tall, even taller than Nate, although considerably more built up in the muscle department. He had dark chestnut hair with a fringe that swept across his forehead and unusually bright green eyes. There was a hint of golden tan in his skin tone and when he smiled at Miriana, he showed a set of perfect Hollywood teeth.

"We've met before," he said, extending his hand. Surprised by his formality, she hesitantly grasped his hand with her own, linking her fingers with his, "I'm so sorry about your Aunt."

"Thank you," she said earnestly, releasing his hand.

"It was Ethan who fought them off," said Nate, an admiring look in his eyes.

"Not on my own," he said hastily, looking at the tiles of the hospital floor, "The others helped me."

"Don't be modest dude," Nate lightly punched Ethan's arm, "You know that-"

But he was cut off at that moment by the sound of the door swinging open and the nurse appearing in the hall, carrying a clipboard.

"How is she?" Miriana asked.

"She's much better," the nurse replied, smiling, "The meds are helping with the pain and she seems like she'll heal well."

"Can we see her?" Nate questioned.

"Maybe just the two of you," she said, indicating Nate and Miriana, "She's just had a dose of pain meds so don't worry if she seems a little woozy."

The nurse moved away and Miriana and Nate passed through the small crowd of people, and Miriana noticed when she slipped past him that Ethan wore an aftershave that reminded her of Cristian. She couldn't help herself from inhaling deeply as he passed.

Her aunt was sat up in bed, leaning against the pillows, her eyes heavy. Miriana hissed when she saw the extent of her injuries. Both of her eyes were blackened a dark, unhealthy blue and there was a bruise across her chin that snaked up across her left cheek. Her bottom lip sported a deep cut, which had swollen her bottom lip up. Miriana could see more bruising down her collarbone and shoulders, leading underneath the white hospital gown.

"Nate, Miriana sweetie," she rasped, holding out her hand. Miriana sat down on the chair next to the bed and slid her hand between her aunt's cool, dry fingers.

"How are you?" Miriana asked, trying to hide the quaver in her voice and biting her lip to stop the flow of tears. She couldn't bear to see those she loved in pain; she often wished she could shoulder the pain for them herself.

"A bit battered," her aunt replied, "But getting there."

"We're gonna hunt the bastards who did this, aunt, I promise," Nate growled, taking his silver knife out of his pocket and flipping it rapidly back and forth between his long fingers.

Eve shook her head and frowned, "No you won't, of you, including that lot out there," she snapped, pointing at the crowd of people just visible through the blinds of the window that faced into the corridor.

"But they're demons," Nate said, exasperated, "Why not kill them?!"

"Because I say so," Eve said, her voice rough, effectively ending the conversation.

Nate grumbled something under his breath and threw himself into the nearest chair, looking sullen. Miriana flashed him a sympathetic smile; she wanted revenge just as much as she did, but experience had taught her it was best not to go rushing in with a head full of raging emotions.

"We'll be careful," Miriana said softly, "The other hunters will help us; we'll be fine."

"No, Miriana," her aunt said forcefully, "Just leave it."

Miriana laughed softly, "You know us," she said, "We can never 'just leave it'."

Eve glanced at the group of hunters still clustered in the hallway, "As long as you take them with you."

"We will," Miriana said. Nate punched thin air behind him and Miriana rolled her eyes.

"Nate do me a favour, sweetheart," Eve said, turning to face him, "Go and get me a tea from the machine."

He got up from the chair and slouched out, the door swinging shut behind him.

"I need to tell you something, Miriana," he aunt began, her voice intense, "I was in your father's pickup when I was attacked."

Miriana was unsure of the significance of this, "And?"

"Do you remember the picture of that knife I showed you? The knife that's like the one Ruby has?"

Miriana felt her heart rate quicken a little at the mention of the weapon. She remembered the picture of the savage looking knife, noting it's similarity to the one the Winchesters effectively stole off of Ruby.

"I found it," she said, "But they came as soon as I did. Your father's place used to be set up with all kinds of traps, but I guess over time some of them had failed and they got to me."

Miriana swallowed hard, "Where is it?" She already knew the answer.

"The demons have it. They said they were taking it to Reuben."

Miriana felt her whole body run cold when she heard his name, as if someone had poured ice into her veins. She always felt his hands running all over her skin when someone spoke about him, felt the cold tickle of his breath on the back of her neck as if they had summoned him into the room. She rubbed her forehead, suddenly realising that it wouldn't be as straight forward as she expected.

Nate bounded into the room at that moment, carrying a paper cup. He passed it to Eve,

"One tea, no sugar."

He looked between the two of them, noting the worried expressions on their faces, "What's happened now?"

***

The hospital was only forty five minutes away from her Aunt's house in New Richmond, so she drove herself and Nate home. She had sat in the hospital cafeteria for over an hour with the other hunters, trying to work out the best plan to deal with the demons and get the knife back and after hours they eventually staggered out of the hospital, exhausted. She had offered the others rooms at her Aunt's house, but they all had motel rooms booked and politely declined, even though she had the impression that Jack had been more than keen to sleep in the room next to Miriana's. It was only Ethan's furious glare and punch to the arm that had stopped him from saying yes.

Once she pulled into the drive, Nate wearily clambered out of the car, and with a mumbled 'goodnight' to Miriana and a quick hug, he traipsed up the wide staircase, slouching across the landing to his room. Miriana watched his slow process and couldn't help but think about how much older and more mature he seemed all of a sudden. It didn't seem right that Nate was sorting out all the problems with their Aunt; organising the family affairs was Miriana's job. She was used to looking after Nate and guiding him, and she felt incredibly guilty that she hadn't been there for him to help him deal with the attack on their Aunt. She switched the lights off in the kitchen and checked that all the doors in the house were securely locked, and for good measure she went down into the basement and grabbed a bag of rock salt, salting the windows and doors. Exhausted, she headed towards her room.

She inhaled the familiar smell of books and fresh linen when she pushed open the door of her bedroom, switching on the small bedside lamp and casting the room in a warm, amber glow. She scrubbed her thick eyeliner off with makeup wipes and changed into comfortable sweatpants and an old, tattered t-shirt. She walked over to the full length window that faced out over the garden and the sharply sloping cliff that led down to Lake Pleasant. It was almost fully dark now, the sky a deep powdery blue, scattered with the first few, brightest stars. The dark, tall trees that lined her Aunt's well tended garden were completely still, the silvery surface of Lake Pleasant completely unruffled. It was perfectly still and peaceful outside, but it didn't match with the emotions and anxieties raging through her.

She felt the very slightest breeze behind her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and she heard the soft sound of feathers. She turned to find Castiel stood behind her, her own personal heaven sent. Before she could stop herself, she crossed the distance between them as quickly as she could and threw her arms around him, turning her face into his chest, breathing him in. She thought for a second that he might push her away, but almost instantly she felt his arms folding across her back, pulling her against him.

"I'm so sorry about your Aunt," he said softly into her hair, "I would have helped her, but I just...I didn't know. I'm so sorry, I've let you down."

She pulled back far enough so she could see his face, lifting her hand to brush against his cheek, "You haven't let me down at all. You're not my guardian angel; I can't expect you to chase me and the rest of my family all over America watching out for us."

He shook his head, "I should have helped her. I should have known."

"Cas, stop it," she said gently, "You have other duties. It's not in any way your fault."

He gently leaned down and kissed her forehead, tracing his lips down over the bridge of her nose and finally pressing his lips against hers, barely applying any pressure.

"How is she?" he murmured, pulling back a little. He still hadn't let her go from his hold.

"She's okay," she replied, "A little battered, but she'll be fine."

"Good," he sighed, as if he was relieved, "That's good."

"How long can you stay with me?" she asked, secretly hoping there wouldn't be a time limit.

"As long as you want," he said, slowly sliding his hands underneath her t-shirt so they rested against the bare skin at the base of her spine.

Suddenly, she heard Dean's voice in her head, asking her what would happen if the superior angels found out about her and Cas, demanding to know what exactly their relationship was. She looked away from his gentle eyes, focusing on the sapphire blue material of his tie.

"What about your superiors, Cas? What have they said about..." she cleared her throat, "You know...us?"

She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he sighed, "They don't know. They only suspect."

"And if they find out? I'm guessing they won't be happy?" she said, her voice quavering ever so slightly.

"No. They would not be happy," his answer was curt, and his shoulders were suddenly drawn tight with tension.

"What if they do find out? What if they tell you to stay away?"

He gently pressed two fingers under her chin, lifting her face to his, "I can't bear to be away from you."

"But-" she began, but she was cut off by him bringing his lips down against hers hard, almost with bruising force. She swayed and his arms tightened around her, supporting her against him. His hands slid up her top a little further, up to the bottom of her bra strap, tracing her spine with his fingertips, massaging her aching muscles with his thumbs. She gripped her hands tightly around his collar and tie while his lips clashed with hers, squeezing her eyes tight shut, seeing stars against the inside of her eyelids. He finally pulled away, leaving her breathless and light headed, clinging to him almost desperately. For a two thousand year old soldier of God, he didn't half know how to kiss her.

He traced his fingers across the dark, purple hollows underneath her eyes, the spark of concern in his dark eyes, "You need to rest."

She nodded, pulling away from him and dropping heavily onto the mattress, "Will..." she felt suddenly self conscious, "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," he said, gracefully sitting down in the chair that faced her bed. She didn't move. He hadn't quite got the idea, so it seemed.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"I was thinking you could..." she felt herself blushing furiously, "Come a little closer."

He frowned, tilting his head to the side, regarding her curiously with his bright eyes, "I don't follow you."

Rolling her eyes, she got up from the bed and took his hands in hers, tugging gently so he stood. She reached up and slowly slid the trench coat off his shoulders, throwing it past him so it landed on the chair. His panicked eyes followed its movement, his breathing rate rapidly increasing.

"W...What are you doing?" he rasped breathlessly.

She pulled his suit coat off and it joined his trench coat in a heap on the chair, "Relax," she said softly, "People don't sleep in so many clothes.

"O...okay," he stuttered. She felt his whole body jerk when her fingers brushed against the hot skin of his stomach as she un-tucked his shirt. She smiled at his nervousness; it was so endearing.

"Relax," she said again. She gently tugged his tie loose, just enough so she could undo the top button of his white shirt. He shivered and closed his eyes when her fingers gently skimmed over his Adams' apple and down over his jumping pulse.

She took his hands again, pulling him towards her bed. She sat down and swung her legs up onto the bed, grabbing the blanket that was folded at the end of her bed. He lay on the bed next to her, his body tense, his chest rising and falling rapidly; she could see his long fingers trembling. She rolled over carefully onto her side so her body pressed against his, the heat of him seeping through the thin material of his white shirt. She pulled his arm up and over her head so it rested against her back, and she laid her head against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart underneath her cheek. As close as she was, she could feel every tremor of his body, feel his rapid pulse thundering through his veins.

"It's okay," she murmured, "I won't bite."

"I...I've never done this before," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," she said, resting her hand over his heart. It felt like she was lying next to a radiator, he was so hot.

"You're so warm," she murmured sleepily.

"I was born from heaven's fire," he said matter of factly. She could feel him relaxing a little as each second passed, his muscles uncoiling.

"Mmmm," she said in response, feeling her eyes start to drift shut. She felt his hand gently brush against her cheek and forehead and she heard him murmur something that she couldn't make sense of her. She tried to say goodnight, but she was asleep before she could get her mouth to form the words.