She pushed past Bobby and an overwhelmed Balthazar, following her boys into the basement. Dean was standing over the bed as her Sam lay unmoving on the metal cot. "Dean?"

He jumped, spinning around to face her. Her heart caught in her throat as his fiery eyes pinned her in place. She would never forget the glare he gave her that day, for as long as she lived. It was terrifying.

"Get out." His voice was low, barely audible.

"Dean–"

"Get out!" he roared, taking a threatening step toward her.

She ran.

That was all she could do, the only option Dean had left her with. She pushed past Bobby on the stairs and shoved her way through the door, her vision blurring with tears. Balthazar wasn't in the kitchen when she ran past, but her mind barely registered the fact. As soon as the front door slammed open, her wings ripped through her shirt, and, with one almighty down-stroke, she was airborne.

However, her grief had clouded her brain, and she had completely forgotten how extensive the damage to her wings was. Her "flight" was more like a seventy foot jump, which slammed her into the top branches of the trees across from Bobby's house. Her wings had pulled back into her skin before the crash, and her bare back crashed through the branches. The smaller twigs whipped against her back, leaving angry gashes in their wake. The ground knocked the wind from her lungs, and she had to fight for a moment to breathe. When her chest finally expanded with the blessed air, she opened her eyes. From her position on the ground, she could see the branches arching up towards the sun and the empty patch where she had fallen.

Emily found that she didn't even have the strength to cry. She just laid there, despondent and broken, thinking about the way Dean had looked at her. The anger, betrayal, terror…what had she done to deserve that. As she laid there, her thoughts took a darker turn, and she began to think about April 14, 1996.

I lied to you. At the beginning of this story, my story, I told you about the time I had found Dean's necklace in the trash can of that sleazy motel. I told you that I though about suicide that day, but that the thought of Dean prevented me from taking my own life. That's not what happened.

I drove my truck for a few miles, before I couldn't see through the tears anymore. I pulled it over into a cornfield by the side of the road, far enough in so that I had some privacy. I laid in the truck bed, Dean's old hunting knife in my hand. I couldn't imagine a life without them, living with this pain every day and knowing that there was no way for me to see them again. I would never be able to hold little Sammy in my arms after a bad hunt. I could never be there for Dean, when I knew something was getting at him, but he was too manly to admit it. I'd never have the chance to explain to John that I couldn't help who I was; I couldn't help that I was born this way.

You need to understand, I didn't have the angels back then. When I found out that John had died, I left, traveling across the country, trying desperately to find them so I could…I don't even know what my plan was once I found them. I just knew I had to.

I had decided it in my mind, that life without my brothers just wasn't worth it. The thought hadn't crossed my mind that they could still be alive. I pressed the cold steel against the skin of my wrist, taking a deep breath. On the exhale, I pushed the hilt forward, slicing through my flesh and severing an artery. I had expected to become lightheaded at the loss of blood before I finally passed out and died, but that's not what happened at all. A soft golden light had begun glowing from inside my wrist, very faint but there. I watched as the light grew brighter, and I could feel something moving on the inside of my wrist. When the light finally faded and I was able to see what was going on, the artery had reattached and sealed itself, but the rest of the cut was unhealed and bleeding.

After that day, I tried everything I could, from overdosing and poisoning to shooting myself in the head. Nothing, nothing worked. Until one day, I was standing on the very top of the Eifel Tower, wings outstretched. I moved my leg to step off, before someone's arm was wrapped securely around my waist, pulling my back. I started to fight back, before I saw a flash of gold in my peripheral vision, and Gabriel's voice was suddenly in my ear, soft and broken.

"They're alive. Please, Emily, stop what you're trying to do. Just…just stop." A tear slipped down my cheek, but my posture was ridged as I refused to lean into his touch. "Think about what you're doing."

I had, though. I'd thought about this for so long, yearned for a way out. I watched silently as his wings pressed themselves to mine, arching protectively over me. I couldn't bring myself to believe that my brothers were still out there. It just seemed like false hope.

"Show me," I whispered hoarsely. There was a sinking feeling in my gut, as Paris was ripped away from me, and I was falling. Before I could process what was happening, I was standing outside a rundown motel, the impala parked outside door 37. Gabriel's arm was still tight around my waist, as I watched the motel door suddenly swing open. Dean stepped out first, giving a quick glance around the parking lot before moving to the impala. He was taller than I remembered, but his eyes were still that brilliant shade of green. It struck me that it was his car now, after John died. For some reason, that fact never registered until then. But something didn't seem right. With all six of Gabriel's bright, golden wings spread and shining in the sun, Dean should've seen…

"Why can't he see us?" I asked quietly.

"Don't want him to," was the archangel's simple answer, his voice still full of pain.

Whatever I was going to say flew from my mind as Sam stepped into the sunlight. His hair was in his eyes now, flopping over his ears. He was even taller than Dean, and he had filled out. His scrawny limbs were now muscular, and his chest was stretching out his shirt.

I watched the two of them banter for a moment, before Dean cracked the final joke, at Sam's expense, of course, before slipping into the driver's seat and starting the car. As the engine roared to life, Sammy ducked into the passenger seat, almost needing to bend in half in order to fit properly.

I chuckled lightly, but my throat quickly constricted as I watched them, tears stinging my eyes. I tried to pull against Gabriel, wanting to follow the car which was pulling out onto the road, but he held me back.

"Not yet."

"Why?" I sobbed, struggling against his grip.

He hesitated. "You'll see them when you're meant to."

"What does that mean?" Gabriel finally let go, and I spun around to face him, my wings bristling in furry. The look on his face caught me off guard, and I faltered.

His wings were drooping by his side, and his eyes were dull, glazed over in pain. My wings lowered slightly, and I could feel the expression on my face soften. My gaze dropped to the ground.

"Gabriel…please…please, tell me this is real. Without them, I…" I couldn't continue without breaking down.

"It is. I promise." His words shattered something inside my chest, and I couldn't help the strangled sob that escaped.

My archangel hesitantly walked toward me, carefully gauging my reactions to see if I was going to attack him. When his arms wrapped tightly around me shoulders, I just lost it. It felt like I had no control over my body as I just cried into his shoulder, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. I find myself chuckling at the irony now, but it didn't even cross my mind then. It was such a sudden switch in attitude that it completely blindsided me.

"What's wrong with me?" I gasped through the tears.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're perfect, Emily. You understand me? Perfect," he practically growled, pulling me closer.

"I need help, Gabe," I admitted between sobs.

I could feel him swallow before he spoke, and when he did, his voice cracked. "I know. And I'm here. I've got you."

"I know. You always do."