A/N: Hey guys! And happy belated Thanksgiving to those of you celebrating it!

Thank you for the last round of PMs and reviews :) They make our days, they inspire us, they challenge us and they bring huge smiles and joy to both of us!

It appears our last update happened around a glitch-phase for FFnet which caused some trouble with email notifications, but we're sure most of you if not all have figured out what happened and already read chapter 28...

And now 29 is fresh out the oven for y'all! I think after THAT series finale we're all in grave need of this. Whether you loved or hated the ending, whether it brought you to tears or not, whether you're still in denial or have accepted it's over... let's not forget the wonderful world of fanfiction will always be here for us, keeping the fandom alive, keeping our favorite characters alive, giving us new stories, enjoyment, laughs, tears, and means to cope. After all that's what this is all about.

We're sending our love and thoughts to all of you :)

Running With The Devil

Title Credit: Title of the song Runnin with the devil, by Van Halen (Album: Runnin With The Devil, 1978)

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"I don't like this, Sam."

"You think I do?"

Upset, glaring at his brother, Sam was contemplating if Dean even understood the position they were in. He was tired of having this argument over and over these past few days and he was losing his patience. Fast.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Slamming the current book shut, Dean leaned back in his chair, scrubbing at his face. This had been an all nighter. Another one. Third one in a row since Amber had her vision. Third one in a row that he and Sam were arguing over the same thing without getting anywhere. Sam was looking at his brother, scanning the room to kind of break up the thoughts in his mind. He felt that empty, hungry feeling. He needed to eat. The intensity of their research, combined with the lack of sleep, was leaving them hungry all the time.

He'd found a few spells he thought Rowena could build upon, perhaps add enough power to in order to bind Lucifer. This was a tall order, beyond any he'd previously heard of.

And bringing in Rowena and Crowley? His jaw ached at how many times he'd caught himself grinding his teeth unconsciously since this plan had been hatched. Their kidnapping Amber, and unbinding her powers to try to use this for their own purposes, he felt such a revulsion towards them. He hated the idea of working with these two again.

And Dean wasn't making things any easier. He hadn't yet accepted this was their only option. They had to make contact soon.

Sam, deciding he needed to stretch his legs and get something to eat, got up from his chair, heading out of the library without another word. He'd check on the girls and head to the kitchen.

His steps were the only thing breaking the silence of the bunker as Sam walked straight to Amber's room. Glancing at his watch he knocked on her door quietly. He doubted he'd find her sleeping, but if she'd finally managed to get some rest he'd hate to wake her up.

When he heard her quiet, "Come in", he pushed her door open, poking his head inside. He found her sitting at her desk, the 'La doctrine et le rituel de la haute magie' opened in front of her and a bunch of notebooks and loose leafs of paper scattered around it, her characteristic all-capitals handwriting evidence of her notes and leads.

"Amber," Sam sighed. "You really should be sleeping."

"Same goes for you, Sam," she replied, her eyes never leaving the page. Once she finished rereading the sentence she turned to look up at him. She'd been trying to decrypt its meaning for the past half hour. Her dark circles only marginally lighter than his own, she saw how tired her brother looked.

"Any news from Crowley?" She asked hopefully.

Lips drawing into a thin line Sam shook his head.

"Dean's still trying to think of alternatives," was Sam's response. He tried to keep his frustration out of his tone, but didn't succeed.

Amber groaned at that.

"Seriously? Still?"

"Yeah…"

Bringing her two hands together behind her stiff neck, she rolled her head from side to side to alleviate the soreness of her muscles, Amber closed her eyes. She was wondering just how much more valuable time Dean's hesitation would cost them.

Opening her eyes again, she used her open notebook as a placeholder and closed the bigger book. Yawning and stretching her arms, the crunching and popping of her back was loud as she got to her feet. Sam winched at the sound.

Mildly rejuvenated, Amber's eyes were looking more purposeful.

"I'm gonna see if I can change his mind," she told Sam decisively.

"I doubt that's gonna do much, Amb," Sam told her.

Glancing at him, Amber simply shrugged.

"Worth a shot. You tried, now I will. And Sam? God, go get some sleep. You really look like crap."

Snorting as she passed him by, Sam shook his head."I'll go get some coffee and wait to see if you manage anything with him. If you can persuade him, we're doing this now. I'm not risking him changing his mind."

Up in the library Amber found Dean in the exact state she expected. He was hugging a glass of booze and scowling at the library's walls as he was aimlessly pacing around the room. Leaning against the library's archway, Amber crossed her arms over her chest and watched him silently.

Dean, noticing her presence, paused his pacing, a surprised look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour?" He asked in a gruff tone.

Raising an eyebrow, Amber didn't hesitate, "Right back at ya."

"I'm trying to find a solution. I'm also thirty seven years old. You're sixteen and in the process of training your Nephilim ass off all day, every day. You need the rest!"

"You're in a peachy mood I see," Amber commented drily.

"Amber… Just get to bed, alright? You really don't want to talk with me right now," Dean growled, trying hard to keep his temper in check. None of his frustration had to do with Amber and the last thing he wanted was to go off on her.

"I actually really want to talk to you right now," Amber replied, stepping fully into the room.

She knew perfectly well this was not the mood anyone would want Dean to be in while trying to reason with him, yet this was the mood he was in and time was ticking. Not waiting for him to respond, she moved to the table they usually sat around when conferring, and took a seat in one of the comfier chairs. Bringing her legs up she propped them against the seat of her chair and hugged her knees, as she waited patiently for her oldest brother to join her.

"You expecting to talk?"

"Yes, I am," Amber stated. "I'll go as far as to say I'm also expecting you to listen."

Eyebrows lowering over his eyes, Dean was looking scary. If she'd had another option, god, she'd take it. This was so suboptimal.

"Will you sit down?"

Startled by being given orders from his kid sister, Dean was left gaping at her. She'd never been so blunt with him and certainly never given him orders. Glass empty, Dean walked over to the bourbon decanter and refilled it. Deciding this would end a lot faster if he humoured her, and with a fresh batch of liquid courage in his hand, he went to sit down looking at her expectantly.

Pulling a chair out, the ear-splitting scraping sound of wood dragging on the floor woke them both up and put Dean in an even worse mood.

"Make this quick," was his direction.

"Honestly, Dean, that's up to you," Amber answered, keeping her voice even. She didn't like his tone, but she knew it had little to do with her. Feeling like she was being the 'Sam of this situation', she was remembering Sam's communication style from their discussions or arguments. Dean could pitch a fit, she'd still try to keep her own temper in check and make him listen. Just like Sam always did with her. With Dean, too.

"We have to move this along fast. We don't have time to hold out for our preferred methods. We need to stop Lucifer." Watching how her brother reacted, Amber kept her eyes on his face with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"That's what we've been trying to figure out, Amber. Both me and Sam."

"Sam has figured it out, Dean. I have figured it out. Hell, even Claire and Cas have figured it out. You're the only one in denial on how we need to proceed. And it's costing us time! Valuable time," her volume didn't rise but her tone was intense as she spoke these words. Her stress about this situation, and the lack of action, was showing.

Taking another deep swallow from his glass, Dean was steeling himself for the inevitable. He knew she was right, Sam and she were both right.

"We can't risk trusting them," he countered.

"We can't risk not trusting them, Dean! It's been three days already! We'll lose him again. And then who knows who he'll possess and how he'll try to get to us?"

At her brother's silence she continued.

"You would have never hesitated before, right?" Amber was challenging his delay tactics. She doubted Dean would've deliberated so long if she hadn't been involved.

Her words were once again met with silence. And spot on.

Reaching a hand out, Amber clasped Dean's fisted palm, the one resting next to his clutched drink. When he turned to look at her she spoke again.

"I'm willing to risk this. Me. After all the stupid shit I've done, after everything that almost happened to me at their hands, I'm still willing to go down this road. It's all we've got," Amber's voice was losing its even tone as she spoke. Fear, stress, sadness, all creeping in and making her voice tremble slightly.

"This is not about you not trusting them, Dean. This is you being afraid to take the next step 'cause you know as well as we do, there's no coming back from there."

Dean's forehead creased even deeper at her words and the truth they carried.

"No, Amber. There's no coming back," he nodded and he looked resigned.

"Will you summon that son of a bitch, then?" Amber asked for the confirmation she needed.

"Yeah, fine. We'll make contact," Dean nodded, his voice resigned, too emotional and tired to argue anymore. Sam had already worn his defenses down and now Amber, talking to him like this, only made him realize this was a lost fight.

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Claire stood near Amber, watching intently. Sam was placing herbs, and the incantation written on a scrap of parchment, into the summoning bowl. It looked like an ordinary bowl. Well, as ordinary as a bronze bowl could be in the 21st century.

Scanning the faces of the others in the room, Sam's pensive expression acknowledged his readiness. Not getting a response, he lit the match and tossed it into the bowl. A flash lit up the room. Grey smoke erupted from the bowl and he scent of sulfur was strong. Then, through the smoke, something was forming, materializing into a solid form.

"Hello boys! Had another wet dream about me, Dean?"

The British Cockney accent struck at the heart of Amber's fear. This voice had plotted her death. She'd heard it. Surprising herself, Amber had taken a step backwards, partially hidden behind Dean.

Crowley's small, shiny eyes scanning the room, paused on Amber, as if sensing her spiked response to his presence.

"Long time no see, my dear. Did you miss me?," his voice laced with sarcasm. Sensing another presence, Crowley seemed to notice Claire for the first time. "I see you have a new recruit.

"Having a thing for pretty little girls?"

"Shut up, Crowley," Dean barked. "We contacted you for a reason."

"You're far too short and fat to be the King of Hell." Claire commented, sizing the demon up and down

"Ouch. You come to a fight with a loaded weapon. Too bad you're not on the winning side."

Rolling her eyes at this British dry wit, Claire turned to Dean and asked, "So, this is our only hope?"

"Only hope? Well, well, well. I like the sound of that," was Crowley's excited response.

Dean glared at Claire and the blonde wisely took the cue to shut up. For now.

"What do you have, Crowley?" Sam asked, his tone curt.

"Tsk, tsk. Not so fast. What are you offering? I don't give out information without an exchange. What do you have of value to exchange? A Nephilim perhaps?"

"Not killing you and your mother for trying to kill our sister," was Dean's barked response.

"Not to mention our alliance in ending your biggest enemy right now," Sam added. "I doubt Lucifer will be particularly happy with you or Rowena after your last encounter."

Crowley appeared contemplative for a few seconds, before finally nodding.

"How poetic that it's Satan himself that always brings us back together, isn't it boys?" Crowley smiled. Eyes shifting to Amber and Claire he added, "And girls, I suppose."

"Cut the crap Crowley. You know Lucifer is back. We have a mutual interest in stopping him."

"And yet, had I not helped you last time, I wouldn't be in the predicament I'm in right now, would I?" Crowley countered.

"Bullshit," Amber spoke up for the first time. "Last time you just played your hand badly, Crowley. You wanted me out of the picture. You wanted my heart and grace as leverage and all your plans went down the drain when I managed to get away. We're your only hope. I don't think Lucifer will be in a forgiving mood towards you or your 'mommy'."

"Mummy Dearest wasn't happy about him being back," Crowley replied, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he eyed Amber. Death and deception dressed up in a British Morning Coat, Crowley's voice dripped of blunt-force sarcasm. His focus on Amber, Crowley added, "Look at you little Winchy. Becoming the brains of the outfit."

"You know you need us, and we can stop him. We do this now or we don't do this and you and your red-haired witch of a mother die a horrible death." Dean needed to push Crowley hard and fast.

"We have some of the means to take him down," Sam added. "But we need intel and possibly Rowena's hand at some point."

"We kill the fucker, Amber gets to live, and you get to grow bald in your precious little pithole," Claire added. "Win-win!"

Turning to Dean, Crowley pointed a finger at Claire, "I like her the most," he informed him.

Before Dean had a chance to answer, Crowley continued.

"He's been targeting meatsuits of high influence and power. He got bored of playing the melting rockstar and hopped in a couple of more vessels since. Last one was that of an archbishop. He's dead along with a number of other clergy in his inner circle. I'm trying to find out who he's jumped into since."

"Someone high profile then," Sam surmised.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean mumbled. "Targeting high profile people… That will make it a hundred times harder to take him down."

"Am I right assuming you want me and my mother to stop this wardrobe change?"

"For starters. We need to find him first. Once we spot him we'll see how it's best to proceed," Sam replied.

"How do you think we'll do this? Do tell, Moose."

"You can use the intel we've dug up. There's just so far we can take this. We need a stronger force to propel this all forward." Sam was trying to flatter and persuade. Vanity was always a way in with most people. Crowley noticed this and took the bait anyway. In ways that would diminish his pride, he wasn't that different from humanity.

"You'll learn more when you have to," Dean added drily.

"Has there been any new talk about Amber going around in your circles? In Lucifer's circles?" Sam asked next.

Crowley shook his head. "Nothing new, Moose, no."

"Then that's all for now. Go to hell, Crowley. And ring us when you have the intel," Dean growled.

Sick smile spreading on his face, Crowley looked at Dean.

"Jealous, Dean? You miss the pit that much?" Without waiting for an answer, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

The atmosphere in the library felt like the life had been sucked out of the air. This vacuous feeling sunk into the bodies of the people in the room.

Cas, who'd been silently watching the proceedings, turned to Dean with concern.

"Do you want me to go join him? Go with him like the last time and keep tabs on him?" the angel asked.

Dean shook his head.

"No. You're needed here. Amber's training comes first. We'll have to give the fucker a chance to do this and trust he'll give us accurate intel. After all he wants Lucifer out of the picture as much as we do," was Dean's answer, sounding like he was trying to persuade himself rather than the angel.

Amber stood where she was, still slightly behind Dean. Her right hand's index finger started tracing the almost invisible scar on her left wrist. She was having a flashback of her time up in Canada...up in Canada while in Crowley and Rowena's possession. Her mind hyper focused on the images and debilitating fear of this event. She'd almost become a victim of Crowley and Rowena.

She was becoming caught in this memory. The terrorizing images swirled around her paralyzing her mentally and physically freezing her in place. Amber was unable to think, to move, to do...anything. Inside this seizing moment, it felt like a rope was binding her arms and mouth shut. Her mind felt impotent to protect her as she was locked up in this traumatic flashback, the lies, the deception, Rowena unbounding her powers. Amber's mind was a stuttering, cyclic mess of these memories.

Outwardly, however, she simply looked distantly distracted.

Claire, who'd been watching her for the last thirty seconds, felt her temper rising at Amber's expressionless face and look of disengagement. They were all there for her, devoting time and energy to help her, as she was once again the center of everyone's concern and attention.

A mixture of annoyance and jealousy, completely misunderstanding Amber's reaction, Claire harshly commented, "Are we boring you here, princess?"

Eyes slowly fixing on Claire, Amber felt her heart start to race even more. Cas, who'd watched this interaction, and had noticed the terrifying images flying out of Amber's mind, stepped closer to Claire just in time to intervene. It was lucky for her that he did.

Hand up by Claire's head, Cas caught the pen as it flew forward. The sharp metallic 'clink' was the main indicator that something had happened. This occurred so fast, Claire had no idea what she'd just been saved from.

The brothers both caught the movement, registering Cas' hand holding a pen, having no idea what had nearly changed their day.

Amber was startled by this metallic sound, too. A mechanical sound, being predictive of precise events, just like the sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked back implied an explosive situation. Mentally still bound up in her personal cyclone of reactive emotion, Amber didn't know what had nearly happened, either.

"Amber, I think you should go lay down. This has been hard on you, " instructed the angel, his voice neutral and low.

Standing still, unmoving, Amber dumbly looked at Cas. Gently prompting her forward, Cas again encouraged her to return to the present moment. Silently, and feeling strangely locked away from reality, Amber didn't feel the need or urge to argue. Without a word, she headed towards her room.

Watching her go, both brothers and Claire were deeply confused.

"Cas, what just happened?" Sam could tell something had occurred, yet it was over so fast he had no idea what it was.

Face neutral, Cas turned back to Sam. "Amber just had a traumatic flashback and she exhibited a new skill." Turning to Claire, Cas addressed her directly.

"Claire, I think you'd do well to head to your room, too. I wish to speak privately with Sam and Dean."

"Oh, no. You don't get to be all parental with me," Claire turned to glare at the angel as soon as her brain processed his words. She didn't read this as a request or a favor, but as an order. In a matter of seconds she was insulted and fuming at this 'time out' Cas, of all people, was attempting to give her. Especially when she was obviously missing something that had just happened and involved her.

"Claire, please, I'm not trying to be parental. I simply need to talk with Sam and Dean privately."

"And I don't give a fu…"

"Claire!" Dean's bark cut her off before she was able to finish her phrase. "Get to your room. Now."

"No, Dean! Hell, no! He doesn't get to order me to do anything," Claire immediately argued, eyes flashing with anger.

"No, but I do. And I'm telling you, you're going to your room, and you're going now. I can always escort you, but I don't think you'll enjoy my company if I have to do this," Dean answered curtly, taking a step closer to the blonde, towering over her.

Reading the warning on his face and body language, a fuming Claire, jaw set, cheeks flushed, fists curled, decided her best option right now was to appear to follow orders.

The Winchesters waited for her departing figure to vanish before refocusing on Castiel.

"Cas, what just happened?" Apprehension at the answer, Sam knew they would only dread the angel's explanation. He just knew it.

"Amber was having a traumatic flashback and involuntarily channeled this into the ability to move objects with her mind. In this case, moving objects towards a source of antagonism."

"Amber 'Jean-Grey'ed a pen at Claire?" Dean asked in clarification.

Head tilting to the side, the angel's eyebrows frowned. "I don't understand that reference."

"Did Amber use her mind to throw that pen at Claire's head?" Sam attempted to translate Dean's eloquence.

"Yes, that's what happened. I think it was more reactive than intentional," Cas explained. "Her upset with everything, combined with annoyance at Claire's comment, triggered the reaction."

The brothers looked at each other and silently wondered how many more powers would emerge from Amber.

"This was expected," Castiel continued. "By increasing the intensity and quantity of training her powers, it's expected that she'll exhibit things like power surges. It's entirely possible any remaining powers she has will emerge as she becomes stronger. Until now we were treading cautiously, giving her grace time to adjust and progress in a steady and 'quiet' manner. Now we're forcing it to rush out."

"Is that dangerous?" Dean asked as he took in the angel's words. "To her? To the rest of us?"

"I can't know for sure, but my guess is it's not too dangerous. Other than maybe some blown up walls or things flying around, she should mostly be able to control it. We're devoting a lot of energy to improving her control, after all," was Castiel's response.

"Then keep doing what you're doing," Sam said, his tone somber. "It's not ideal, but if she has any more aces up her sleeve, now is the time for them to emerge and for her to learn how to use them effectively."

Wonderment and concern.

Claire, hidden from view around the corner, had heard everything the Winchesters and the angel had discussed. Telekinesis. So, Amber could now move things with her mind. How close had she come to being impaled? It had happened so fast she never even realized. The angel seemed to have saved her, too. Damn angel. She wanted nothing from him. Amber's new power was interesting intel, though, and Claire tucked this knowledge away in her mind. She'd find a way to use it. Something this good had to be useful...providing she wasn't the target.

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Hands running through his hair, stopping to rub at the tension in his neck, Sam looked at his laptop's screen. His mouth a tight line of desperate concentration. He'd exhausted his search skills with little results. Other than the archbishop's death, which Crowley had informed them about, he hadn't found any other suspicious deaths implicating other persons of power. With Lucifer, being able to wear the meatsuit of anybody he could possess, the list of possibilities was endless. He could have entered anybody of his choosing, anywhere on earth. It felt like they were looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Yeah… Thanks Jody. We'll call as soon as we've got news," Dean's voice drew louder as he walked into the library, ending a phone call.

Sitting opposite from Sam, he threw his phone on the table and sighed.

"Nothing shady coming from the media or 'restricted intel' from police reports. It's strangely quiet." Sam felt like the constant bearer of bad news.

"Keep looking, Sammy, 'cause I got nothing from Jody either. He's got to make his presence known sooner or later."

Mouth a straight line, forehead creased into a wave-like formation of worry, Sam kept his eyes on his computer screen. "How is she?'

"She's laying down, quiet." At a raised eyebrow from Sam, Dean added, "She's breathing, ok. She wasn't in a talkative mood. Not with me, anyway."

Acknowledging this, Sam stood up. He wished to see Amber's state of mind for himself.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go check on her. She's got to be very disoriented."

"Yeah, I'll bet she is. Goddammit, throwing a pen at Claire's head, that's just...that's so…"

Here Sam interrupted, "So scary?"

"No, hell no. It's so friggin cool!"

Shocked at his response, Sam's brow dropped, his face reconfiguring into surprised redirection.

"You do realise she could have accidentally injured Claire right? Like seriously injure her?"

"But she didn't! And Sam, you gotta admit… It's a pretty awesome power! If I could have shot a pen across the room, school would have had an entirely different meaning. Teacher Dart Board. Can't you see it, high value targets?"

Annoyed by his brother, Sam knew this was one of his defensive mechanisms. Taking his mind away from everything that he had no control over, giving his mind moments of levity and rest.

"Where's Cas?" Sam only asked.

"He was lurking in the corridor, pacing between Amber's and Claire's doors, doing his creepy angel reading thing. We talked a bit about the girls before I got on the phone with Jody."

"And?" Sam prompted.

"And nothing. You go check on Amber and I'll see if I can get Claire out of her angel-murdering mood," Dean answered.

Finding Cas in the long hallway where all their bedrooms were, Sam walked right up to him, while Dean kept walking towards Claire's door.

"Hey Cas, what have you figured out?" Sam asked this just as Dean, having knocked on Claire's door, heard this question. He'd get up to speed later. Knocking again, and not hearing a response, he opened the bedroom door next to his own, vanishing behind it.

Alone in the hallway, Cas and Sam continued their discussion as they walked down the hall towards Amber's room.

"Nothing new. Amber was having a flashback and she was further triggered, albeit at an unconscious level, towards Claire. She didn't know she had responded with violence. It was purely involuntary."

"Have you spoken with her yet?"

"No. I could see she was in a state of shock. I did see her vital organ responses were stable, so I allowed her to be by herself."

Sam's eyes turned heavenly at that. This angel of the lord, he was rather dense in regards to human nurturance.

Feeling anxious that Amber had been inadvertently ignored while going through the aftermath of this meeting with Crowley and the traumatic memories it evoked, Sam frowned and indicated with his head that Cas should follow him. They both entered Amber's room. It was strangely quiet...strangely still, flat. The air felt like time had stopped.

Amber was curled on her left side, facing away from them. She was on top of the blankets having not had the awareness to get underneath the covers. The room was cold. Sam looked at Cas for any insight he might have. Seeing nothing on the angel's face, Sam looked back at his sister. Then it struck him, the word "ossification."

The implications were fearful.

"Amber…Hey, are you awake? We'd like to talk with you, see how you're doing." Sam's lowered voice was soothing, tentative, and Amber heard it. She heard it, but the words had no meaning...merely sounds like wind passing through dry leaves on a tree; their words were there, but of no consequence.

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Sam placed his hand on her shoulder, gently rocking her in a manner to communicate reassurance and start a line of communication. Amber felt cold.

"Geez Amber, you're freezing!" Sam started rubbing his hand briskly up and down her arm, looking around for a blanket or something she wasn't lying on to pull over her, warm her up.

Cas, spotting a fleece blanket thrown over the desk chair, retrieved it and handed it to Sam, who spread it over her curled up frame. He continued rubbing her arms up and down over the soft fabric.

Amber felt the heat that started radiating from her forearms to the rest of her body and started breathing a little better. Her brain was getting slowly out of its numbed state and her eyes shifted to meet Sam's.

"I'm sorry you had to go through seeing him again," Sam said quietly.

"It had to be done," was her whispered answer. She didn't trust her voice to speak any louder right now. "I need to get used to his and Rowena's presence after all. I can't shut down every time we need to work with them or see them."

"You had a flashback?" Sam asked sympathetically.

Amber nodded.

"And worse than that… For a second it felt like I was hovering over Rowena's table watching it happen to me all over again. I couldn't talk or move. I felt that horrible pain all over again…"

"Yeah… I know the feeling," was Sam's response. His voice hoarse, his own dark memories from the cage creeping in. Tamping them down, burying them and focusing entirely on Amber, he cleared his throat.

"Amber, you threw a pen at Claire's head. Do you remember this?"

Mouth softly dipping open, eyes questioning, Amber clearly did not. And she didn't understand why this was being brought up.

"Did I… get her?" Amber's voice sounded hesitant, concerned with the answer.

"I don't mean that you threw it with your hands," Sam clarified.

When she further gaped at her brother in confusion, Cas attempted to explain the incident.

"You exhibited a new power. You involuntarily used a pen as a projectile... at Claire. At her head. It appears that you can move objects with your mind."

They were reminded that Cas was in the room with them.

Amber's face grew even more surprised at Castiel's words. She heard his words, but understanding them, this was a slow comprehension. Her face changing, Amber shifted her eyes up to Cas', seeking confirmation. Cas understood and nodded, indicating this had indeed happened. Then it fully clicked and Amber's eyes grew wide.

"Holy shit," she whispered. "I didn't hurt her, did I?" she asked, now very concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. She knew how volatile her powers could be sometimes. And this instance of not even remembering it happening, this really scared her.

"No, Claire's fine. Cas intervened in time," Sam reassured her.

Relieved she hadn't hurt anybody, Amber's body slumped back onto her pillow and she closed her eyes. This gesture communicated how utterly exhausted she was. The flashback had taken so much from her. What she'd lived through had stolen much of her strength.

Down the hall, in room 12, Dean and Claire were talking.

Claire hadn't replied to the knock. She was feeling sulky. Sent to her room? Being yelled at? Goddammit, she'd been the one who'd had a pen launched at her head. Not answering hadn't stopped Dean from simply entering her room.

The unexpected emergence of Amber's new power, and Crowley's seeming cooperation, had managed to ease his nerves a bit. He was still on edge, but in a state of functional communication. For 'Dean standards'.

"You knock and then you wait to be invited in," were Claire's words as Dean stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Barging into someone's space defeats the purpose of knocking in the first place. I know you're slow, but this is a pretty standard thing."

"Not when it involves rude, childish teens who behave like toddlers," was Dean's dry response. She was slouched in her desk chair, sock-covered feet propped up on its surface, arms tightly crossed over her chest.

Taking a few steps closer, Dean leaned against her desk, next to her feet, resting his own hands, palms down, on the top of the desk.

"I was the one behaving like a toddler?" Claire immediately shot back, frustration growing. "Last time I checked, I wasn't hurling shit at other people!"

"Nobody hurled anything, Claire. Not on purpose…" Dean paused there, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…How do you know about this?"

Claire's lips pursed together at the question as she contemplated her answer.

"From the angel," she finally blurted out. It was the only explanation she could think of.

"Cas? You talked to Cas and he told you that Amber threw a pen at you?" Dean asked, his tone incredulous, clearly indicating he wasn't buying this.

"That's what I just said, isn't it?" Claire responded curtly, glaring at the man.

Dean had to give it to her, she looked completely confident in her words despite them being nothing but bullshit. His temper was rising, not only over the fact that she ignored his orders and obviously eavesdropped on yet another private conversation, but for lying straight to his face.

Pinning her with a withering glare, Claire knew Dean knew she'd lied. Shifting uneasily in her chair, she squirmed the tiniest bit. It was enough of a tell for him.

"You sure you're telling the truth, Claire?" Dean let that question hang for a few seconds.

"You sure that if I step outside right now and ask Cas if the two of you have talked at all since the library he'll confirm what you just told me? And before you answer, let me tell you… I don't like being lied to. Not one bit. Last chance to come clean."

Claire watched his expression and body language changing and she felt her confidence wavering. Her eyes shifting to the side she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine! The stupid angel didn't tell me. I… ah, I stalled a bit in the war-room and heard you talking," she finally admitted, trying to sound as indifferent as she possibly could about this.

Dean's right index finger started tapping against the desk as he kept glaring at the girl.

"So, you eavesdropped? Again. And ignored my order? Again?"

Claire felt her face flushing at his tone and kept her gaze off to the side, offering a shrug as her only answer.

Dean nodded twice before getting to his full height, grabbing the girl's forearm and easily bringing her to a standing position. Claire, startled from the sudden change in position, immediately realizing where this was heading and began to struggle.

Despite her efforts, Dean easily maneuvered her body to the side. Raising his hand he landed five sharp swats on the seat of her sweatpants.

Claire was vainly trying to get her arm out of his clutch, tugging and squirming side-to-side trying to get her ass out of the line-of-fire. As the fourth and fifth smacks fell she hissed loudly at the smarting pain.

"Fuck, Dean! It's not a big deal!"

"Wrong answer, kid," Dean shook his head, landing another five in quick succession which had Claire on her tiptoes.

"Ah! Shit!" Claire whined as the stinging heat escalated.

"No more eavesdropping," Dean said with another sharp round of swats. "And no more ignoring orders," these last five were the hardest of them all and Claire was openly yelping with each smack that echoed through the room.

As suddenly as it started, it ended. Still not letting go of her arm, Dean stated in a serious tone, "This is your last warning. Think of what you just got as an appetizer. If I ever catch you listening in on a private conversation again or ignoring my orders, you're getting the full-course-dinner, you get me, Claire?"

When the panting blonde nodded, Dean used his hold on her forearm to sit her back down in her chair.

Claire grimaced at the impact but managed to keep quiet. Having experienced Dean Winchester's 'full-course dinner', she wanted no repeats. This was nothing compared to the ass-beating Dean had given her not that long ago for taking the Impala, and it still hurt enough to make her shift around uncomfortably against the hard wooden seat.

"Now that we got that out of the way," Dean continued, his tone more conversational, "nobody hurled anything at you, not on purpose. Since you eavesdropped you already know it was a reactive response Amber had from her flashback. Your snide little comment just pushed her grace to let loose on you."

"I still don't get why I had to be sent to my room," Claire countered with as much attitude as she dared.

"Because we wanted to talk privately. Not that you gave a shit about that."

"Well, you didn't give a shit about letting me know what almost happened to me, either," Claire countered.

"Why do you think I came here just now, huh? To fill you in," was Dean's curt answer.

"We've gone over this before. You and Amber need to listen when we tell you to do something. And you need to drill into your head that we will share what's important, even if we don't do it the second the two of you stomp your feet and throw a tantrum."

Not having an answer for that, Claire simply scowled at her feet, avoiding eye contact with Dean. What he'd just done to her was still so embarrassing. She wouldn't ever admit this out loud, but Dean's words did make sense. He had come to her to let her know what was going on. That alone made Claire so frustrated with herself. Had she actually followed his stupid order, and gotten to her room when he asked her to, she'd still learn what had taken place in the library and her ass and pride would both be unscathed.

Stealing a glance at Dean, Claire noticed his face was once again calm and his posture open, which made her feel a bit more at ease.

"You know, Cas wasn't trying to make you do anything, right?" Dean added after a few seconds. "He was just trying to tone down the situation and get some privacy to fill us in."

"Yeah, well, he needs to keep his mouth shut when I'm involved," Claire answered, her tone now unwavering, harsh.

"I can handle seeing him prancing around in my father's meatsuit, but he doesn't get to tell me to do shit." Pausing to look at Dean for the first time in several minutes, she added, "You can't blame me for that. Even you should get how fucked up this is for me!"

Dean, expression serious, nodded. "I do. I just want to make sure you remember he's here to help us. All of us. And that he was the one that saved your face from a nasty cut. At the very least."

"Don't remind me," Claire mumbled, still hating the fact she now owed the feathered asshat.

"Claire… I'm not Sam and I'm not gonna pretend I get half the shit you've gone through. I do get that Cas is a constant reminder of all this crap, but he's not who he was back then, okay?"

Dean paused to gauge her reaction. When she didn't respond, he continued.

"He's much more human than angel now. He's not the blindly obedient soldier he was back then. And he feels guilty for all the pain he's caused. So…What I'm trying to say is... try to keep this in mind. It'll make life much easier for both of you."

"Fine, I'll keep that in mind," Claire answered sourly.

"Good. 'Cause the three of you, Cas, Amber, and you, are gonna be working closely together for the foreseeable future. And I'd very much like to avoid bloodshed."

Rolling her eyes, Claire glanced at him for a few seconds, making up her mind how she would respond.

"I promise not to kill him. I won't even attempt to injure him. Happy?"

"That's the spirit."

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They'd been sitting for hours and their backs hurt.

Claire leaned back in her chair, arms overhead in a stretch as she yawned wide. It seemed to go on and on. Yawns being infectious, Amber pushed herself away from the library table, letting out her own impressively long yawn. A tear leaked out of one of her eyes. Reading and researching through old tomes for hours, her eyes burned. She felt tired.

"Food?" Claire looked at Amber for confirmation, receiving a small smile. Yes! Food sounded so good right now...and meant a change of venue. Both girls headed down stairs towards the kitchen. It felt good to move.

Nearing the swinging door, they heard the sound of metal-upon-metal clanking coming from inside the kitchen. Looking at each other, they pushed the door open to see Dean, apron on, grilling cheese sandwiches. The scent of cheese and butter was in the air. Dean was absorbed in his timing and hadn't realized the girls had entered until they were near him.

"Smells good," Amber offered. Dean jumped a bit, not having heard them until they were practically upon him.

"God!" Clearly startled, Dean kept the spatula in front of him as if to ward off an attack.

"Wow…that's a lethal defense, Martha," Claire snarked.

Rolling his eyes, Dean was pulling himself back from an adrenaline response to the inanity of what he looked like wielding a spatula defensively. It was embarrassing. Some of the enthusiasm he'd found, with his new found cooking skill, was dulled. Frowning at this, Dean simply looked at the girls and grumbled, "Get yourself some plates."

Not wishing to diminish Dean's cooking efforts, Amber got her own plate and smiled thankfully as Dean plopped her cut grilled cheese sandwich onto it. Exchanging a look, Dean felt a bit better.

"This looks great!"

"Thanks kid," was Dean's happy reply, as he busied himself in buttering the grill for the second round of sandwiches.

Just then, coming in through the door, Sam was hit by this rich aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches, his head tilting upwards as he took in the cheese-scented air.

"Nice job Dean. Hey, did you make them like Bobby did?"

"You know it," Dean grinned wide and happy.

Bobby had learned this from his late wife, and he in turn had taught Dean how to make grilled-cheese sandwiches with butter, whole grain mustard and garlic, all mixed together and spread over the bread before layering on the cheese. It ended up making this amazing flavor. Sometimes Bobby would add tomato slices and make them open face grilled cheese sandwiches. The few tomato slices ended up making the whole affair look like pressed flowers. Trailer trash cuisine is what John had called it. The boys, around eleven and seven years-old, didn't care what it was called. These were Bobby's grilled cheese sandwiches. And the recipe was carried forward with this anchoring memory of Bobby adding to their fondness for them.

Looking at the table, and seeing nothing else was served, Sam moved to the fridge and retrieved four apples. He washed and dried them before placing them at the center of the table.

"You two make sure you eat some fruit, too," he told the girls as he grabbed one for himself and took a huge bite out of it. Looking around, Sam mused on the fact they seldom had vegetables or salads in the bunker. He'd have to correct this in the future.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked his brother, flipping Claire's sandwich in the pan.

"He's up in the library checking what Amber and Claire found," Sam replied. Turning to the sitting girls he added, "Good job with the research, by the way."

Amber smiled up at him, while Claire simply acknowledged the praise with a nod and a neutral expression.

"No, I really mean it. I didn't spend a lot of time looking over what you dug up, but so far it looks promising. What you girls found might end up being very useful. Amber, the spell you originally found in that French book, this has been the basis of everything we have so far. You get that, right?"

Amber knew this to be true. Nonetheless, she was enjoying the warm fuzzies from Sam's praise. Her work had been the foundation of every step forward they'd made.

"And my contribution has been what, crap?" Claire was feeling jealous of this attention paid elsewhere. Research was supposed to be her thing after all. One of her strongest points.

Sam noticed this and was reminded how Claire had been the driving force behind the hunt up in Wichita...Claire had seen the outcome way before anyone else. He realized he had to keep his praise equal albeit well-earned. Claire had great skill and intuition for this work and he didn't wish for her to think he'd forgotten how much she'd contributed there...and would contribute in hunts in the future.

"Far from it, Claire. I see how you're working, same as you did on the Wichita hunt. You were right about that priest and nun. Your research was spot-on. I'm sure your insight on the spells we find will end up making all the difference."

When Claire looked somewhat appeased with Sam's acknowledgement, he continued.

"When we manage to gather a few more spells like this, we can start involving Rowena. She'll be a better judge than any of us on which of these spells and rituals stands the best chance of defeating Lucifer."

Dean, plate in one hand and spatula in the other, moved to the table and served Claire's sandwich with a thoughtful expression, taking this all in.

"Have you looked at the ingredients list yet?" Looking over at Sam for his answer, Dean returned to the stove to finish with the last batch of sandwiches.

Thoughtful contemplation, Sam mulled over the list, kind of going through his mental data base.

"We have most of them. Pretty ordinary...but some of the more obscure things, we don't have."

"Like?" was Dean's need for clarification.

"Dean, this is high magic… It demands certain human internal organs…"

"Geez," Claire mumbled with a disgusted grimace.

"Dried and crushed under very specific conditions," Sam continued.

"For fuck's sake, we're eating," Claire whined, dropping her sandwich onto her plate with a pained expression.

Looking at Amber, Sam's gaze took on a meaningful expression, "And a vial of angelic grace."

Sam's meaning sunk in and Amber blanched. Looking back and forth between Sam and Dean, Amber saw they were both looking at her in that uncomfortable, meaningful way. Shit!

"Hey, don't look at me like that."

"Amber, you are the most powerful source of angelic grace on earth. Well, except Lucifer's, but we don't have access to that. Even Cas' grace is not as powerful as yours."

"Not that he has much of it left anyways," Claire mumbled.

Sam's words were measured with his deeper meaning, which was that they needed a sample of HER angelic grace.

"We're not talking draining you or harming you in any way. We'll just need a small vial to make it work. That's all," Sam tried to reassure her, seeing she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

"You need it now?" Amber was feeling corned by this conversation, wishing she could just sink into the floor, out of sight.

"Not now, but soon would be good. Frankly, I'd rather we collected it before we have any contact with Rowena. I don't want her around you when we collect it."

Amber understood the need for this more than anyone.

Thinking about how this would happen, Amber lapsed into a quiet place.

It had been terrifying when Rowena unleashed her power...and it had hurt. Her memory traveled further back though. She remembered watching her own birth, that witch slitting her mother's throat, the collecting of all of her grace, the seal binding, the blood spell. That image kept replaying in her head, torturous and unwavering.

She hadn't thought about it in years, but right now this was all she could think of.

Shaking her head, managing to kick this image back into a dark corner of her mind, Amber tried to distract herself by eating. Taking a slow bite of her sandwich, eyes focusing on the floor, mouth slowly chewing as she thought, Sam and Dean were aware that this was going to be a difficult topic for her. They knew this was coming up and hadn't really known how to approach it. The opportunity had presented itself today, so today was when they forged ahead with the inevitable.

"We won't need much to cast the spell. It won't hurt."

Everyone's heads whipped around towards the door as Cas stood there, apparently having been standing there for the better part of their conversation.

"We can collect it on the full moon. This timing lends a higher potency to your grace."

Sam understood this, having encountered this description for acquiring magical ingredients for other spellwork.

The image of her mother's death became vivid again. Throat cut, all of her grace collected in a bowl,the light fading from her eyes, John holding her, the black imprint of her feathers spread below her lifeless body. Amber was very apprehensive about this 'collecting' of her grace.

Face grim, lips tight in a line, she remained quiet. Claire saw this, and this time she understood Amber's reticence and let it be.

"It will not hurt. I will only take a little. You will be unharmed." Cas was trying to reassure her. Amber didn't know how much of this was true or if this was just him trying to set her mind at ease, saying whatever was needed. Her eyes showed her distrust.

Confused by her reaction, the angel cocked his head as if trying to ascertain her deepest intent.

Respecting her mental boundaries, Cas hadn't intruded into her mind. However, he could feel there was a deep trauma for Amber concerning angelic grace. He could feel it. He inadvertently perceived hidden glimpses of a bowl of grace swirling. It was a large bowl and it was full. Castiel had no idea where Amber would've seen such a thing.

"Amber, we only need a small amount, not a bowlful."

Amber's eyes shot up, focusing on Cas's face. Had he broken his promise? Had he seen her mother in her last moments? How did he know about the bowl of her mother's angelic grace?

"I said fine. Now drop it, ok? And stay out of my head," she thundered.

The plate in front of her, half-eaten sandwich on it, rattled angrily as she spoke the words, but she didn't pay any attention to this. The mere idea of Cas strolling through her memories, her most private and shielded memories, was infuriating. The last thing she wanted or needed was having to share the details that haunted her with everyone present. She only hoped the angel would take the hint and stop talking.

Pushing her plate away, Amber looked sour. The rest of the room's occupants noticed the heated exchange and the rattling plate. The brothers exchanged a confused look. What had just happened between Amber and Cas? Claire, more aware of the details of this interaction, simply watched. There was something big going on and she wanted to see it all spill out.

"Ah, Amber, what's going on?" Sam only saw the outward interaction and was deeply confused.

Amber had been reluctantly willing, but still willing, to give a sample of her grace and now Cas was saying something about a bowlful? Giving that much would kill her. They didn't need that much, did they?

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. Cas, Sam...we don't need a bowl of Amber's grace, do we?" There was a slowly rising alarm in Dean's voice.

Turning his face towards Dean, Cas was robotically clear.

"We will need a small vial of Amber's grace. It must be taken on the full moon to increase its potency. I can make it so it doesn't hurt Amber when I take it."

Confused, looking to each other for confirmation, both brothers were trying to understand why their sister was so upset about giving a small sample. She was reacting as if it were life and death. From their understanding, it wasn't.

Amber felt her temper rising even more than if she'd been ignored. Grabbing her plate she got up from her chair.

"Can't talk anymore about this. We're doing it, ok. For fuck's sake please stop mentioning it! I'm gonna finish this in my room!"

She had only taken two steps towards the door when the ringing started. Stopping in her tracks, she grimaced, plate crashing to the floor, Amber fell to her knees, both hands tightly over her ears, groaning in pain as a high-pitched sound was conducted through her skull, through her ears, through her whole body...and the sound was only increasing. Her ears felt like they were splitting from within her head.

The intensity of this energy wave spread throughout her body. It wasn't just the ringing, it was an explosion of light that made her eyes tear and a heat so intense that her skin felt like burning parchment.

Cas felt the same painful ringing in his own head, grimacing as his hands flew to cover his own ears, his body curled up in response as he also crumpled to his knees. This pain cut through the membranes of thought, it cut through consciousness ….overwhelming the two angelic creatures in the bunker.

Dean, forgetting his grilled sandwiches, looked from Amber to Cas, alarmed.

"What the hell is going on?" Instantly by her side, Dean grasped Amber's shoulders, tried to figure out what was happening.

And then they glowed. Dean hadn't seen his sister's weird birthmarks glow before, and now they were bright white. On her forehead, on her wrists, these marks were pulsing with energy.

"What's with this kitchen and angels?" Claire mumbled as she got to her own feet and took a step closer to the kneeling figures.

Her concern pushing past her facade of toughness, Claire put a hand on Amber's shoulder. Up close, Claire could see tears leaking out of Amber's clenched eyes, a film of sweat on her upper lip. Looking over at the angel, she confirmed he seemed to be experiencing the same pain. Clenched eyes, furrowed brow covered in sweat, Cas' mouth was opening as if to scream. He made no sound.

Hands moving from her ears to clutch at her chest, feeling her heart racing faster than ever before, Amber managed to form some words.

"Something… Something's coming," was her frail whisper.

And as suddenly as it came, it passed. Just like an unseasonal tropical storm, 100-mph winds coming out of nowhere and receding back to nothingness, the bunker's inhabitants cautiously assessed themselves, each other, unsure if this was truly over.

Amber, heart still pounding, marks still glowing, turned to look at Cas, who was trying to catch his own breath and regain his composure.

"What the hell was that?" She managed to ask him. She let Sam help her to her feet, right as Dean moved to help Cas get up and find his own balance.

"I don't know yet… Some sort of celestial energy release. I'll see what the rest of the angels are saying about this," was Castiel's strained response.

Amber watched him as his eyes closed and his brow creased in concentration.

"Here, Amber, sit down," Sam instructed quietly, leading her to the closest chair.

Claire had already filled a glass with water and handed it to Amber, before turning expectant eyes to Cas.

The smell of burnt food, grey smoke billowing off the stove top, made Dean instantly return to his cooking. The last sandwiches were burnt black. He scraped the burnt sandwiches off the grill before hastily throwing them in the sink along with the spatula. Turning off the heat, he refocused on his sister and Cas, walking up next to the angel.

A few seconds later Castiel's eyes opened. His face was alarmed, grim, and confused. Amber felt her stomach clench at this. Seeing such intense emotional responses on the angel's face hadn't ever happened before. Not as long as she knew him. And it frightened her.

"A powerful Nephilim has been conceived."

No one spoke. A Nephilim?

"What? How? How do you know?" Amber was the first one to break the silence, her heart starting racing yet again.

"Amber, this energy you felt, that we both felt…that was celestial energy. Energy of a celestial being. Usually something like that would be felt only when a Nephilim is born. The actual moment of its birth. And it still would not be as intense as what we have just experienced…"

"So, a Nephilim was born? There's another nephilim on earth?" Amber asked for clarification.

Castiel shook his head.

"No. That's what is… well… Frightening. This energy was released by just the conception… No other angel has ever experienced something similar before. They think… They think it's an Archangel's offspring. That would explain why we all felt it. And why it was so intense."

"An Archangel?" Amber asked, even more confused.

"Yes, an Archangel. Lucifer is an Archangel. The only one on earth right now."

Sam looked at Dean with a completely thrown-off expression. What did that mean? What was happening?

"So…he what? Grew tired of chasing us and decided to make a new one and take their heart instead of mine?" Amber tried to understand what this could possibly mean. She hoped this was the case, but she doubted it. When had it ever been that easy where she was concerned?

Cell phone ringing, everyone in the kitchen jumped. Dean, fumbling with his phone, managed to wrestle it out of his pocket from beneath his tied apron. Flipping it open he heard Crowley's voice.

"Let's go halfsies on the diaper cake," came Crowley's voice from the other line.

Dean closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath. The last thing he needed right now was Crowley bullshit.

"Wanna know who's the lucky daddy to be?"

"Spill it, Crowley."

"Our very own 'Leader of the Free World'. Or at least his meatsuit."

The others watched Dean's face, trying to discern what his half of the conversation meant.

"So you're telling me we need to target the goddamn President?"

"Looks like it."

"I'll call you back, Crowley."

Turning to see the stunned faces around him, Dean threw his phone on the kitchen table, expression grim.

"Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?" Sam needed to know ASAP. They needed to plan according to what they were up against. It sounded like a lot.

Scanning the faces in the kitchen, Dean looked defeated.

"Lucifer's in the meatsuit of the goddam President of the United States."

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A/N: That was it for 29! As promised, we've cut down on chapter length, still keeping them long, but hopefully more manageable. How does this work for you? Are you managing to read them in one sitting as many requested? Let us know!

What did you think of this chapter? Loved it? Hated it? Found it boring? Exciting? We'd love to know!

As we're bringing this story closer to its end we're putting in a great deal of work and thought into tying up all our loose ends and bringing all the subplots into the main plotline as things speed up with every passing chapter.

Do you see this happening? Can you tell? We'd love your thoughts on this!

As always we'd love to hear about your favorite or least favorite scenes, things that made you crack up or upset you. Things you've missed and would like to see more of… We're always open for ideas and will incorporate them as long as they can work with our planned plot! Our message box is always open and trust us when we say we LOVE discussing the story and fandom with you guys :)

Happy holidays to all of you!

Till next time,

Marion Luth & Lau Whisperer