This is probably my last chapter of 2019, so I just wanted to say THANK YOU! to everyone who has read and/or reviewed. You rock! Hope 2020 is an amazing year for you. :)

Before she could try to communicate the urgent message, Rachel was turned back around. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," the human officer warned her.

Sam tried to see what was happening to Rachel, but only caught glimpses of her being roughly handled by the other officer. "We haven't done anything!" Sam snarled as his arms were forced behind his back; the officer slapped handcuffs around his wrists. "Let her go!" he barked.

"Cool down," the office snapped. He fished for Sam's wallet in his back pocket, opening it and examining his driver's license.

"It says Kansas!" Sam argued, knowing he could easily take on the officer if it weren't for the risk of Rachel being hurt. "We're just trying to get home!"

The officer examined the license, putting it back with a smirk and tossing Sam's wallet on the driver's seat. Sam groaned as he was shoved to the road, landing hard on his stomach. "He's armed!" the officer shouted over the car as he aimed his weapon at Sam. "Check her!"

"Don't touch her!" Sam shouted despite his face being squashed into the blacktop.

"Shut up," the officer warned, keeping his gun trained on him.

"She's clean," the other officer called out.

"Bring her over here."

Sam saw Rachel's worn boots come into view. "On the ground!" the officer over Sam shouted at her. Rachel hesitated, the heat she felt from her powers rapidly building with her nerves. "On the ground!" She felt frozen, panicked as she thought of losing control and hurting innocent people. But she had to do something. A demon would easily hurt Sam, or others. Her thoughts were shaken as the officer kicked her down, making her crash to her knees before they shoved her onto her stomach. "I said, on the ground!" the officer shouted.

"You son of a bitch!" Sam snarled. "Don't touch her!" He received a boot to the back, groaning at the impact on his spine.

"Pop the trunk," the officer aiming at the instructed to the other one.

Rachel met Sam's eyes as best as she could. Her lips quivered. "Demon," she mouthed, knowing he read her lips when she saw the change in his eyes. "Stay down."

"Don't," Sam begged under his breath.

"Have to," she mouthed back.

Sam reluctantly shut his eyes as the second officer came around their side for the keys. Rachel blinked hard, her eyes flashing blue as she burst up. Time slowed as she growled in anger, holding her palm out toward the officer who had been holding Sam. She watched as the demon lit up in shock, her powerful energy destroying it to smoke and ash. The demon burned white hot, dropping close to Sam when it died.

Rachel took a step toward the other officer. Despite him being human, she blasted him backward with her power through an angry scream. The officer flew back several yards until he smacked into a nearby tree, his squad car skidding away and crashing against another vehicle from the force she emitted from her palm.

Heart racing, Rachel broke the connection. Her hand slowly lowered as she saw the stunned faces of the people waiting in line behind them in their cars. "Shit," she breathed. They all saw her. And at least one had a phone out. She turned, focusing on the cuffs that bound Sam and breaking them with her mind before helping him to stand. "We've gotta go!" she ordered.

Sam didn't hesitate; he jumped into the driver's seat as Rachel whirled around to the passenger's. She barely got in as he started the car and peeled off down the highway away from the mess she made.

Rachel sat in her seat, stunned. Had she hurt the innocent human? She hadn't meant to—she just wanted them away from the car and from Sam. Tears filled her eyes. Was he alive? She felt like a monster for what she did to him. Her bottom lip quivered as she recalled the horrified faces of the people behind them in their cars who witnessed her attack. She was a monster in their eyes. And now on video for the world to see.

"Rachel!" Sam shouted, ripping her out of her thoughts. It was the third time he called her name, she not responding the two times before. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes moved to Sam, who was clutching the wheel with a death grip as he drove. "I … I think so."

"Are you hurt at all?"

"N-No."

Sam took a quick look at her. She was clearly in shock. "Listen to me," he said, his voice a bit gentler, "we've got to take a detour and lay low for a bit. If they're following us, they're going to assume we're on the highway."

Rachel shook her head. "But the storm—"

"We don't have a choice," Sam interrupted. "We'll find a public shelter and wait it out there."

"We can't risk it!" she argued back. "If they're following us, they could hurt innocent people!"

"I understand that, but I need you to be safe. Trust me. They are counting on us going home, heading for where we are most secure."

It seemed like an awful plan, but she knew he was right. Still, she couldn't help but feel terrified both of what she had done and of waiting out an epic storm anywhere but the concrete bunker she was familiar with that was stockpiled with supplies.

Rachel watched as Sam fished out his phone and dialed a number, pressing it to his ear as he waited. "Dammit," he growled, throwing it to his lap. "No service."

"The sign a little bit back said there's a gas station coming up," Rachel said quietly. "Bates City."

"Sounds like a place to get murdered," Sam muttered. He sighed. "Alright, Bates City it is."

It wasn't much later when Sam rolled the Impala into the main road of downtown Bates City. He drew in a deep breath as he examined the microscopic "city." It was a backroad town at best, small worn shops lining the desolate street, only two pickup trucks parked along the entire stretch. "Population — 220," he sighed. "We need better resources."

"You see the sky?" Rachel argued. "Sam, we don't have much time."

Nipping at his bottom lip, he pulled into the gas station, parking the Impala. No one was around, except for three parked cars. Sam narrowed his eyes as he tried to see inside the small corner store across from them. "Wait here," he instructed, glancing over to her. "Lock the door behind me."

Rachel watched as Sam left the Impala, the engine still running. She reached over and pressed the lock down, hesitant as she saw him slip inside.

The conversation stopped as soon as Sam opened the door. Two men stood in front of the counter, a third behind it. They each had supplies in their arms and the one behind the counter a set of keys in hand, readied to lock up. "Can I help you?" the older one behind the counter asked. He seemed genuine.

"We need shelter," Sam admitted softly. "We're hours away from home and need somewhere to ride out the storm. Is there anything here?"

The older man nodded. "Bates City Baptist," he said. "About a mile down that way. Though you'd better get there quick. It ain't a big church, and the basement's even smaller."

"Thanks."

"Welcome. If there ain't space, I reckon you've got an hour or so before the storm gets too bad to drive."

Sam stepped back, giving them a nod before returning to the Impala.

Rachel unlocked the car, Sam quickly climbing in and shutting the door. His hair was askew from the whipping wind. "There's a church basement," he said with a sigh, trying to tame his hair. "I don't know … I think I'll try to find something else—"

"We don't have much choice," she reminded him. "They probably have a phone, so you can call your mom there."

Jaw flexing, Sam started the engine and drove back out onto the main road. Only a couple minutes later, he pulled the Impala into the church parking lot, shutting off the engine. He hesitated as he withdrew the keys, clutching them in his hand. "You okay?" he asked softly, looking at Rachel. She looked confused. "With this," he clarified. "Being here."

Rachel glanced over at the church, drawing in a breath. She had been so concerned about getting somewhere that she hadn't considered what the shelter might do to her head. "I'll be fine," she said with a smile, though she knew it wasn't hardly convincing.

"I'll find something else," Sam said, readying to insert the keys into the column.

"Sam," Rachel said, taking hold of his hand. He stopped. "I'll be fine. I will. I promise." She drank in the warmth and spark of his skin, immediately hungry for more. She moved her hand away, guilt blossoming within.

Sam hated the loss of their connection, wanting nothing more than to cling to her, to hold her close, to tell her how wrong he was for lying to her. He rubbed his brow and climbed out of the car, snagging his duffel from the backseat as Rachel exited on her side.

Popping the trunk, Sam stuffed some weapons into his bag, then secured the hood closed. He looked at the car for a prolonged moment with a heavy sigh. "Just let it be safe for Dean," he murmured as he thought of the Impala's potential fate. He was desperate for some kind of divine intervention on behalf of the car, knowing how much it meant to his brother. Still, he had to keep Rachel safe, both from the storm and from demons. That came first.

With a pat on the car door, Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and urged Rachel forward. When they reached the doors to the sanctuary, he knocked with purpose, then rested his hand at the small of Rachel's back as they waited. She drank in his slow, deep strokes he made against her spine, the simple touch spreading warmth over her like a beautiful blanket of security.

The door opened, and a woman with graying hair tied in a low ponytail smiled at them. "Come on in," she urged. Sam pressed Rachel forward, following her inside as the woman shut the door behind them. "Whew. Looks like you two are just in time. I saw you pull in the lot as I was gathering supplies." She looked between them, her smile growing. "Can't say I've ever seen you before. I'm Anna."

"Rachel," Rachel murmured, a chill coming over her. She glanced around at the church, her stomach knotting.

"Sam," Sam replied. "Thank you for letting us stay."

"No need to thank me. It's mighty nice to meet you," Anna said. She tightened her cream cardigan around her purple top. "You both look exhausted. Where are you from?"

Sam swallowed. "Kansas. We, uh, didn't have enough time to get back."

Anna nodded as she moved deeper into the sanctuary, oblivious to Rachel's struggle as she continued, her navy skirt swishing. "Well, we've just about filled up, but there's still enough space for you. If you don't mind the bit of a crowd."

Sam's fingers ran up and down Rachel's back through her hesitation; he leaned in. "I'm right here," he whispered tenderly, feeling the shiver that ran up her spine. "I won't let anything happen to you."

His assurance was enough to coax her forward. Anna eventually saw their distance and waited for them at the stairwell. "Did you run here, darling?" she asked Rachel as she looked her over. "Your clothes are a right mess."

"It's … a long story," Rachel replied with a polite smile, trying to suppress the massive chill that seemed to be taking over her body.

Anna clucked her tongue as they descended the stairs. "Well, we've got a heap of donations we just sorted, so we'll fix you up with something fresh."

"Oh, that's not necessary—"

"It's already settled." Anna flicked her eyes to Sam. "You've got some things, or should we pray extra hard for enough fabric to fit those legs?"

Sam offered her a smile. "I'm good. Her bag was the only one stolen."

"That's a shame," Anna said, shaking her head. "Don't know why people don't just ask for help instead of taking what isn't theirs." She sighed as she pushed open the door to the finished basement. About thirty other people were already in the space, claim staked in corners and slices of floor with personal items, flashlights, water bottles, chargers, and empty snack wrappers.

Rachel felt her pulse skyrocket as they wove through the crowded basement. All eyes were on the new strangers, following them as they moved. She was relieved when she saw a small corner space available toward the back of the room. Naturally, it was the one closest to the second door stairwell, the spot people didn't want.

"You can set your bag there," Anna instructed Sam, who complied. "Now, I'll be taking your wife to fetch her some new things, so you wait here. There are some supplies left over by Jim down in the corner, so you can get some before they're gone."

Rachel shook her head, a flush tinting her cheeks despite her frigid body temperature. "I'm not … his wife."

"Oh." Anna looked between them. "Well, whatever you are to 'em, we'd best get started."

Sam watched as Rachel was led away, seeing her glance over her shoulder back at him. The simple word gutted him. Wife. He couldn't help but reach into his pocket and brush his fingertips against the small ring he faithfully carried. The weight of their circumstances bore down on him, rendering him temporarily immobile. Had he listened to her all those months ago, she wouldn't have risked herself to get grace. Or even if she did, he would've been there to back her. Then she'd still be his, their son would be safe, and so many people wouldn't be in danger. The guilt weighed heavily on him, maybe even more than it had ever in the past. She was his wife. At least, she would've been, had he not been so blind.

Heading to the corner where Anna directed him, Sam offered a smile to the man he assumed was Jim. "Hi," he said, clearing his throat; an awkwardness overcame him as he felt the eyes of others fixed on him. "Anna said you had some spare supplies?"

The heavy-set man silently handed Sam a thin blanket, two bottles of water, and a bag of chips. "All we got left," he said. He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "I know you from somewhere."

Sam swallowed hard, suppressing the panic he felt. Being recognized by a civilian was never usually a good thing for a hunter. "I don't believe we've met."

"Hmmph." Jim looked him over. "Coulda sworn I did."

"No, sir." Sam inhaled deeply, giving him a nod. "Thank you." He made his way back to the corner, his guard more than up despite his exhaustion. Something about the building and the people in it didn't feel right. Maybe that's what Rachel picked up on. As he settled into the corner, he glanced to the direction where Anna took her, remembering her kindness. Or maybe they're just leery of strangers. And maybe she just relived the most horrific night of her life, and then I dragged her to a church. He looked down at the chips, his stomach rumbling. He'd save them for Rachel. Silently, he rested his head back against the cool plaster, listening to the whipping rumble of the storm above them. It was growing stronger by the second. The meteorologists were wrong. It was coming a lot sooner, and he hoped everyone at home was already settled in. Mom. Sam took out his phone, cursing the lack of signal. His battery still was fairly strong, but it was useless without being able to call her.

"Ain't got no service," a man said across from him, catching Sam's attention. "No one does."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, pocketing his phone. "Guess we'll just have to wait."

"Where y'all from?"

"Kansas."

The man scoffed. "Well, you might be better not being home right now."

Sam ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. "I'm worried for my family back there."

"Yeah. Makes sense." The man stretched, yawning. "They still can't figure it out," he said. "The weather people said they have no idea where this storm came from. Sounds fishy to me."

"How so?" Sam asked, immediately seeing Robbie in his mind's eye.

"I'm saying, you don't see a big ass storm cell like this pop outta nowhere." The man leaned in. "I think it's the government."

"The government?"

"Yep. They're keeping it from the public so they can take over implementing FEMA. Then they'll have control over local law."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Sam said. "Crazier things have happened weather wise."

"Yeah? Well you tell me where this all came from, then." The man eyed him. "The only other answer is, God is fixin' to destroy us."

God doesn't give a shit about you, Sam felt like saying, drawing in a deep breath. "I'm sure things will work out."

"Uh-huh. Right. Well, all I know is, FEMA ain't taking my guns." The man bristled as he settled back in. "My second amendment right."

Sam sighed. His patience was more than thin with his exhaustion, so he was grateful the man decided to end the conversation. If he only knew ...

In the rear of the basement, Rachel waited as Anna dug through plastic bags of clothes. "Aha!" Anna said with a smile, handing Rachel a thick blue sweater. "This will help you stay warm."

Rachel felt the fibers, another shiver overcoming her body. It felt like it would take a lot more than a cozy sweater to fight the rapidly growing frigidity in her bones. She silently accepted a tank top to layer underneath and pair of skinny jeans from Anna, nodding in response to her question of whether they would work or not. "Good. The ladies room is just down the hall there. You can change and get settled."

"Thank you," Rachel managed as Anna left, not moving.

"Of course." Anna's brow wrinkled as she turned back and examined her. "You look pale," she murmured. She approached and laid the back of her hand across Rachel's forehead. "My word," she gasped. "You're like ice!" Anna guided Rachel to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. "We need to get you warm. Come on, now. I'll help you. Let's get these off."

Silence washed over Rachel, the iciness she felt getting dramatically stronger, until her teeth began to chatter. Anna fussed as she undressed her, shaking her head. "You poor thing, out here with no coat." She unzipped Sam's hoodie Rachel was wearing, tossing it aside as she untied the flannel underneath it. "Alright, let's just—" Anna's lips parted as she took off the flannel, revealing Rachel's blood-splattered shirt. "What in the blue moon happened to you?" she whispered, eyes wide. When she didn't hear a response, she looked up, finding Rachel blankly staring ahead as she chattered her teeth. "Oh my Lord," Anna breathed, stunned. She hurriedly changed Rachel, only receiving minimal help from her as she fussed. When she finished, Anna scooped up Rachel's old clothes and guided her back to the main room. "Samuel?" she called out.

Sam's head shot up, hearing the desperation in Anna's voice, immediately pushing to his feet. His stomach sank when he saw Rachel's paled face and uncontrollable shaking. "She's downright icy," Anna breathed as Sam took her into his arms, examining her. "She hasn't said a word. Is she alright? I saw …" She leaned in, lowering her voice. "I saw the blood. Is she injured?"

"No, she's okay. That was from … hunting. She's just … tired," he murmured as he realized the issue. She was sick from being low on grace—she had worn herself out using her powers so much and so quickly. He guided her to their claimed spot, looking up at Anna. "Do you have her clothes?"

Anna handed them to him. "Are you sure she's okay?"

Sam nodded, forcing a smile as he put the hoodie on her over the thick sweater. "She is. Though, a couple extra blankets wouldn't hurt."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

As Anna left, Sam heard how the storm swelled even more. They were stuck. He had some grace he could administer her, but without being able to ration it, he was terrified it would be too much. She would have to charge her batteries on her own. His only viable option was to pray Castiel could transport her to safety in the bunker, but he wasn't even sure if it was possible in the storm, or how he'd explain it to the several others crowding the basement.

Sam wrapped the meager blanket he was given around Rachel, glancing to the corner. He took her into his arms and sat with his back to the wall, pressing against it as he cradled her to his chest, her legs draped to the side. "C-C-Cold," he heard Rachel stutter against him. She stiffened in his arms.

"Shh," Sam urged as he accepted another blanket from Anna with an appreciative nod, draping it over her. "Relax your body," he instructed, making sure she was completely surrounded by as much warmth as he could give her. "I've got you. Rest. Lean on me."

"Why … am I … so cold?"

"You used too much power," he whispered into her ear, drawing her closer. "You're a new angel. You don't have the strength yet."

"S-Sam—"

"Shh," he said tenderly, nuzzling her. "Rest, baby girl. Don't use your energy."

"The … s-storm—"

"I've got you," he reminded her, pressing a thoughtful kiss to her forehead. "You're safe. Just rest for me, okay?" Rachel nodded into his chest, sinking into his hold. "There you go. Atta girl," he whispered against her hair as he kept her close.

For a moment, Sam contemplated seeing if asking Rachel saw any demon faces within the crowd. But she was shivering so hard against him that he couldn't bring himself to ask her to use the energy. Robbie had displayed similar symptoms when drained of energy, though they weren't as severe, likely due to his strong genes and grace received from birth.

Robbie.

Sam shut his eyes, his heart aching as he listened to the angry storm. Was he okay? Were he and Dean safe? All he could do was hope - hope that his son and brother were alright, that his family was safe, and hope that the woman he loved would recover. And it felt more than hopeless.

Dean drew in a deep breath through the silence that followed Robbie's massacre. His fingers flexed over the hilt of the angel blade he held, his eyes scanning for any signs of Guardians. "Talk to me, Robbie," he said to his nephew behind him, keeping his focus forward.

Robbie sat pressed against the back wall just under the large window, his breathing labored. "I'm so tired, Uncle Dean," the boy admitted, defeated.

"It's alright," Dean assured. "I just need you to rest, okay?"

"It won't work!" Robbie argued. "There's too many! I have to fight!"

"Rest," Dean repeated. "We need your juice to get home. So just charge up, and leave these dicks to me."

"I don't know if I can charge that fast."

"You just let me know when we've got enough to get us home, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean wet his lips as he heard a stampede of feet approaching in the distance. "Showtime," he muttered to himself. If he was being honest, he was terrified. The odds he would make it out alive were slim. "Listen to me carefully, Little Man," Dean said, "if this goes south, I need you to take your mom's soul and book it home."

Robbie's eyes rounded. "But—"

"It's not up for discussion, Robbie," Dean interrupted. He glanced back at the boy. "You get that soul back to your mom. Got it?" Sadly, Robbie slowly nodded. "Atta boy. And Robbie?"

"Yeah?"

Dean gave him a soft smile. "I love you, kid."

Before Robbie could answer, the doors burst open. Dean waited a few beats as the room filled with angels, trying to get the timing right. When he decided it was full enough, he slapped his hand over the banishment sigil he made in his blood, watching as the first batch disappeared. He swallowed hard as more Guardians flooded the room. "You assholes are like rabbits," he grumbled, sending a second batch off with another sigil. "How you doing, Buddy?" he called out behind him.

"I need more time," Robbie admitted.

Dean went to banish the last group of Guardians, but they used their power and seized him, his blade falling to the ground. He tried to fight their grip, clinging clumsily on to whatever he could reach to avoid their hold. Still, they wrestled Dean to them, one taking full control. The Guardian snagged Dean's neck and squeezed, making him cough and sputter for oxygen. The angel smirked, tilting its head as it readied to snap his neck.

A burst of white light flooded the room. Dean dropped to the ground as the angels tumbled over like dominoes. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Robbie holding out his hand, shaking as he clutched the steel box to his chest. "Charge, Robbie!" Dean ordered. "Don't use your juice!" While the angels were down, Dean stood and grabbed his blade, stabbing a few angels before the remaining four stood and slowly approached.

One lunged forward, wrestling with Dean, who managed to flip him backward in time to stop it from snatching his neck. He put his blade through it, barely recovering before another managed to knock him to his back. Dean tried to stab him but failed. He pressed toward the angel with his blade hand, grimacing. With a growl, he overpowered the angel and stabbed it in the neck, shoving its body to the ground as he withdrew his blade.

A scream caught his attention. Dean turned, eyes wide as he saw Robbie fighting the remaining two Guardians. He charged toward them, ripping one off of Robbie and killing it. The second, though, succeeded in loosening the box from Robbie's grip. It tumbled to the floor, the Guardian shaking Robbie unforgivably in the air. "Weak," he spat. "Pathetic. Such a waste undeveloped."

Before he could choke Robbie, Dean shoved his angel blade deep into the Guardian's back, yanking him off of Robbie. Robbie coughed, shaking as Dean shoved the body away. "You okay?" Dean asked, panting.

"Get the box!" Robbie shouted, jabbing a finger toward it.

Dean lifted the boy into his arms and moved to it, quickly snagging it from the ground. "How does this open?" he asked. Robbie ran his finger over the front, producing a latch. It was still locked but was able to be twisted open at will. "Huh. Cool. Thanks."

"What do you mean, 'thanks?'" Robbie asked, stunned.

"Just in case I need to open it."

Before Robbie could speak, Guardians entered, flooding the room. Dean held up the box in his palm, halting the group from coming further. "Don't move," he warned.

"What are you doing?!" Robbie hissed, worried.

"Put the soul down," a Guardian said with narrowed eyes. "Gently."

"Or what?" Dean challenged, holding his gaze. He lifted his arm a bit more, the angels reacting in fear. "I know how this works. This is a bomb."

"Use that, and the boy's mother never regains her life."

"I know," Dean said firmly.

"Then surely you wouldn't take the risk," the Guardian replied.

Dean eyed him. "I would."

Robbie panicked. His uncle was playing Chicken with his mother's life against powerful angels. "Uncle Dean!"

"You have enough juice?" Dean whispered.

"I think so, but—"

"On three, take us back," his uncle ordered quietly.

"But—"

"On three."

"You're making a big mistake," the Guardian warned with a sneer. "That kind of power will never behave how you think it will."

"I'll take my chances," Dean replied, his eyes flicking over the hesitant group in front of him. "One," he said to Robbie. "Two."

On the three count, Dean lifted the box in the air and slowly twisted the lock open. Robbie screamed as he realized what his uncle was doing, but it was too late. He was teleporting them and couldn't stop it from happening. He saw the Guardians cower in fear, a bright white light spilling over everything as he shifted them back to their plane. His uncle had destroyed his mother's soul.

Dean and Robbie landed in the maps room in the bunker. Dean kept Robbie from falling, gripping him tight as he panted. They made it. Robbie's cheeks were soaked with tears. He punched at his uncle, Dean letting him down as he watched the boy rage. "How could you?!" he shouted, kicking him. "How could you do that?!"

"Robbie—"

"You killed it!" Robbie sobbed. "You killed her soul! You killed my mom!"

Dean squatted down, seeing Mary and Castiel approaching in surprise at their return. "Listen to me," he urged.

Instead, he received a punch to his jaw. It wasn't a light hit, but it wasn't anything damaging. "You killed her!"

"Robbie!" Dean shouted, grabbing the boy's shoulders and stilling him. "Listen to me. I didn't kill it."

"It blew them up!"

"Look," Dean urged, showing Robbie the box in his hand. "I manipulated them," he whispered. "Just like they manipulated us. It's been released here. On this plane." He saw how the boy panted, his eyes full of tears. "A released soul will eventually find its owner," Dean assured. "Your mom is going to be fine."

Robbie opened his mouth, readied to speak, but nothing came out. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Dean nodded, wiping Robbie's eyes. "I'm sure. It'll be fine." He stood, looking to his mother. "Is Rach in her room?" he asked.

Mary's lips parted. "She and Sam are … they're stuck somewhere a few hours east of here."

"Stuck?"

"There's a huge Snownado set to hit here soon. We've tried to reach them but Sam's not answering his phone." Mary looked to Robbie. "Castiel said the storm is from his power."

"Mine?" Robbie asked, surprised. Mary nodded softly. "Then I'll stop it!" He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing hard as he scrunched his nose. He released a breath, opening his eyes. "Did that stop it?"

"No," Castiel said gently. "Robbie, I don't think you will have the strength to."

"I …" Robbie looked up at all of them. "I didn't mean to make it."

"We know," Mary assured as she approached and sank to his level. "It's okay, sweetie."

"Cas," Dean said, feeling nauseous, "how is that going to affect Rachel's soul?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don't honestly know. I assume it can find its way, even with the conflicting energies."

"I had to release it so they couldn't get it," Dean justified. He looked at Mary. "Why are they out east?"

"Long story," Mary sighed, taking Robbie into her arms and holding him close. "I'm so glad you're both alright."

"But what if Mom's soul doesn't make it, Uncle Cas?" Robbie asked Castiel.

Castiel glanced between the group. "I'm sure it will," he said with a small smile. "Your mother is strong, especially now."

Dean took a step forward, brow raised. "What do you mean, especially now?"

"Well," Castiel said quickly, shifting his position nervously, "I just mean that … she's resilient and—"

"Cas," Dean snapped, making Robbie tense in Mary's arms, "what do you mean? What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, the angel sighed. "Rachel has some grace back."

"What?!" Dean gasped.

"She seems to be fine," Castiel assured quickly.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded. When Castiel didn't answer, he looked to his mother. "Mom?!"

Mary exhaled with obvious burden. "She was tricked by her brother," she explained, seeing Dean's reaction. "He led her away from Sam and got her to take the grace somehow. We aren't … sure how. Sam wouldn't say."

Swiping at his face, Dean paced away from the others. A silence fell over the group. "Is Mom still Mom?" Robbie asked quietly.

"She seems to be," Castiel said. "Though the introduction of a new soul … might …"

"Might what?" Dean snapped, looking back at him.

"It might complicate things," Castiel replied. "There's no way to know until she's back."