She sank down slowly, covering her ears to drowned out the sounds of bloodshed and screaming.

It was all her fault.

The carnage around her was a complete massacre of strewn out bodies.

She couldn't take another moment of Dean and her father fighting, so she had snuck out, knowing that there were things waiting in the dark threatening their very existence.

That was his main reason for showing up in the first place. Not to see her, but to investigate the disappearances that have been plaquing their small town.

But even still, he always came to see her when he was nearby, even if he had a job to do.

However, it was more of the same just like always.

Ike and Dean couldn't get along long to save their lives and she simply became an afterthought to their built-up anger.

They couldn't even fake it for one hour. Their hate for one another ran too deep.

It was never like this when Skylar's mother was alive. Before Cora Evan's was killed, she didn't remember her father and Dean interacting much. They never had to. But one night, soon after her mother died, Skylar came downstairs to hear her father telling Dean to leave and never come back.

Dean terrified her sometimes, but she liked him way more than Ike, even back then. She hated her father for ever suggesting such a thing.

But Dean didn't leave when Ike demanded it.

She remembered seeing him, no more than eighteen, breaking her father down to his knees. It was so easy for him, even before he had grown into the man he is today. He was made for this life, and for some reason, he wanted her in it.

He refused to leave her and look at them now.

He was alone on this particular hunting trip. Sam no longer tagged along when Dean came within one-hundred miles of Skylar. He thought their relationship was pointless and, deep down, disgusting. She knew that was why she never saw Sam anymore.

He was always cordial and kind to her, but he didn't understand his brother's odd commitment to branding since he had never taken it seriously with Olivia, though Olivia had been the one to walk away first.

Skylar had barely made it down the street when a van came into view after storming out of the house undetected. It happened so fast. The second it stopped beside her, she reached into her boot for the small knife that she kept tucked away. But there were so many of them. They picked her up like it was nothing, instantly throwing a bag over her head.

All she could make out for that split second before darkness overcame her was that they were human like.

So many monsters were human like, so it was impossible to really know what had abducted her.

She spent hours in the dark, trembling with fear.

She was never a hunter. Something was missing on the inside that all other hunters possessed.

Instinct? Strength? Passion? Bloodlust?

Dean said it was because she was still so young. She would grow up to love the hunt. But Skylar knew different.

Something was wrong with her.

And then she heard him. His deep voice speaking low and melodic; threatening. She could hear him give them one warning like he did with most of his prey, and when they ignored it, convinced they could take on one man, they sealed their own fate. It didn't take long before they attacked, and she could hear the fighting.

What started out as fists, quicky turned into the sounds of flesh being ripped from the bone.

They were screaming in agony, pleading for mercy. But there was none to be found.

He was way past leniency.

When the last body fell and it became quiet, she could hear the sound of his heavy boots drawing nearer. The bag over her head was whipped off, and there he stood, gazing down at her with a hard look, his entire body dripping red.

He took the time to cut the zip ties bounding her wrists and ankles without saying a word. But within seconds, a small sound come from upstairs. Skylar froze in dread. Dean paused, gazing upward with that familiar look of murder in his eyes. He half twirling the machete in his hand before running up the stairs without looking back.

Skylar rose from the hard chair she had been sitting in, breathing heavy as she took in the bodies around her. They were lying in pools of their own blood, some decapitated, others sliced open.

She bent down, opening the mouth of one of Dean's victims to see what it was. But there were no fangs.

Not a vampire.

They were killed so easily with a simple weapon; not silver or a special blade.

There was nothing to indicated that these were monsters at all.

She backed away then, realizing that they were…human.

Not again.

She had been abducted by regular people. It wasn't the first time that monsters turned out to be human. She had seen Dean take down a person or two in the past, but this was different.

He was slaughtering them like animals. He should have rescued her after doing what must be done and then call the police. They attacked him first. She could hear that. But he hadn't stopped when they surrendered.

He cut her lose, only for him to run upstairs and continue the massacre despite the front door being within view. They could have walked out, and no one left alive would have stopped them.

It was times like this that she missed Sam the most. He kept his older brother in check and focused on what really mattered. Without Sam, Dean was a ticking time bomb. There was no stopping him. There was no pulling him back from the brink of insanity.

That's when she leaned against the wall and sank down, covering her ears against the nightmarish sounds.

He was seeing red. Dean Winchester was a monster in his own right when he was blinded by his rage.

When the horrific sounds finally stopped, she looked up just in time to see him descending the steps, every inch of him covered in thick red blood, the veins in his arms were visible as he continued clutching the sharp weapon in his right hand.

He walked over to her slowly. He wouldn't hurt her. He never had. Not physically anyway…

Even when he was like this.

"Get up," he said calmly as she remained crouched on the floor, her hands over her ears despite everyone being dead.

"Get up!" he said more forcefully, giving one swift kick to her foot, dropping his machete to the floor.

She winced, determined not to cry as she rose to her feet.

When she failed to look into those green eyes of his, he grabbed her by the chin with his blood-soaked hand none too gently, forcing her gaze upward.

Murder still lingered behind their depths.

It was as if he was detached, not really looking at her at all. And then he spoke.

"I would do anything for you. Do you understand me?" Skylar jumped at the harsh tone of his voice.

She nodded her head, reaching up to grasp his wrist in hopes he would let her go.

He held firm.

"You can't tell anyone about this," he spoke softly then. He looked wild and untamed, his lip shaking. "They wouldn't understand. But I can't allow filth that to exist when I can't be here to protect you all the time."

What was she supposed to say? He wanted her to remain silent and live with this gory picture in her mind forever. He wanted her to be okay with this. He wanted her to grow up and marry him, knowing that he was a brutal killer, and not only of ghost, demons, ghouls…well, you get the picture.

People got the death penalty for far less than what he has committed.

"Promise me, Baby Girl. It will be our little secret."

With her body still trembling, she nodded her head once again. She couldn't find her voice.

He dropped his hand from her chin to bring it around her waist, pulled her dark hair back with his other one so that he could drop a kiss on her cheek, so close to her mouth that she froze.

She could feel the blood on her face that belonged to someone else entirely and she cringed.

"Our little secret," he whispered once more, bringing her into a tight hug. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

She clung to his shoulder as she looked past him, wishing that he had never found her.

She couldn't live with what had just happened.

She wished that she were dead.


Skylar gasped as the vision fell away, falling to her knees in the shower.

The water beat down on her as she tried to catch her breath.

She couldn't take it anymore. She wasn't strong enough.

Skylar began to sob. It was all too much.

First, she lost Dean and then Sam and Castiel.

Then, she had taken her first human life, and despite the man deserving everything that he got, it wasn't in her to be a killer.

The first thing she had done when it was over was run away. She could feel Michael behind her, casually walking as she made her way through the foreign streets. It wasn't until she could run no longer that she collapsed. She wanted it to be over. Maybe saving the world was no longer the right thing to do.

The world was an evil and vile place that deserved to burn.

She couldn't raise a child in such corrupt filth.

She could feel Michael's presence as she tried to hide her eyes from him.

And she was grateful when he didn't speak.

He only put a gentle hand on her, and when she reopened her eyes, she was inside of a dark hotel room. She nearly crawled to the bathroom and shut herself away, too ashamed and unhinged to care how crazy she looked.

She was only human after all.

Wasn't she?

She wasn't certain of anything anymore.

She made her way to the toilet where she retched and vomited until there was nothing left.

After making her way into the shower, her arm still vibrating from the inside, her vision had gone black and she began seeing things that weren't there. It was memories of her childhood, watching Dean and her father fighting, mixed with a vision that had never happened in the first place. It was as vivid as anything she had ever experience before. She could still feel his blood-soaked kiss on her cheek. She reached up to gently touch the spot.

He was so angry and detached, a monster in his own right.

He'd always loved to hunt…and kill.

But not like that. Never like that. He saved people.

He usually let them walk away with a threat that he would kill them if they ever tried to hurt anyone again. Most of the time, they heeded his word. Rarely did he kill a human the first time he encountered them, especially several humans like in her vision.

Skylar knew he was a little blinded at times. His wrath was unmatched.

But he was a good man.

He was the father of her child.

Maybe it was because he was the father of her child that she was trying to convince herself that he was some kind of saint. Otherwise, how could she survive with the images flashing in her mind?

Skylar ran her hands through her soaked hair as the water continued to pound down on her. She rocked back and forth, clutching tight to her long tresses.

She remembered what Michael had said to her.

You have no idea what kind of man Dean Winchester really is.

She hadn't been able to forget him saying those words to her, and now, it was plaguing her even more.

Had she been so blinded by him all her life that she ignored what he really was?

Had she blocked it all out?

No.

No. She knew what he was. He was a murderer, drunkard, and man whore with insecurities that ran much deeper than even he knew. And she loved him. She loved him so much that it hurt, she didn't care what crimes he was guilty of.

Maybe he got a little rough at times, and of course the whole Cassie thing…and Lisa - - Lucifer had mentioned a Lisa. Skylar had no idea who that was, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to find out.

But the vision she just had…

That detached psychopath was not her Dean. It was just a nasty side effect of what she had just done herself. Her mind was playing cruel tricks on her.

Knock, knock, knock.

Skylar gasped, her thoughts pausing at the sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door. She already knew who it was, and she was honestly shocked he took the time to knock in the first place.

She didn't answer.

Instead, she reached up and shut the water off, bracing herself against the porcelain tub to somehow stand on her weakened legs.

Wrapping a towel around her body, she didn't bother drying off before opening the door.

Just as she suspected, Michael was standing there, looking down at her with deep concern. She could see the hesitancy in his eyes as he studied her, and she was taken aback by the almost human reaction he was having to her unstable condition.

Her vision from moments ago was entirely too fresh, so it was difficult to look up into the face of her husband, even if wasn't truly him.

Michael's normally stoic gaze was completely masked over; his signature hat and coat gone.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

"No," Skylar immediately answered, holding tight to the door for support. No, she was not okay, and she refused to lie and act like everything was fine. "I just want you to take me back to Sam. I won't kill again. That's not who I am. You can't force me. And - - and this isn't good for the baby. I'm not strong enough for this, if this who you are forcing me to be," she finished with a sob.

Michael gave a heavy sigh, dropping his gaze to the floor. "No, it's not who you are - - yet. I pushed you too fast, and for that, I'm sorry. But I needed you to see what you are capable of. And as for the baby, you don't need to worry about that. I'm monitoring everything. I know that physically and mentally, you have been under a lot of strain lately."

"Just a little," Skylar said, giving a small hiccup when she finished. "What happened back there?"

"Maybe you can put on something comfortable and then we can have a little chat."

Skylar moved past Michael towards her duffle bag, pulling out a pair of shorts and one of Dean's t-shirts that she had packed for comfort before going back to the bathroom and putting them on. Despite her mind playing horrendous tricks on her, his scent instantly washed over her, and she calmed a little before going back to Michael and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What am I?" she asked, hugging her body tight for support, bracing herself for the answer.

"What kind of question is that? You're a mortal girl."

"No human can do what I just did. What am I?" she demanded more forcefully.

"You are a human girl, Skylar," he reaffirmed, pausing momentarily from the chair that was directly across from her. "You descended from heaven a long time ago, put in hell as I reminder to Lucifer of what was to come."

"I know," she cut him off. "Lucifer told me all of that. But no key is supposed to smite people. That makes zero sense."

Michael proceeded to tell her everything from when she was created and who she had been in heaven.

A seraph.

Angelic and sitting beside God himself. Apparently there are five beings who have laid eyes on God, not four like he originally stated. And she was one of them.

She signified purity and light and only had the ability to kill those that deserve to be killed. The energy bursting from her will not work on those that want to be saved. If they have any remorse inside of them for what they have done…if they want to repent and truly change their ways, she cannot kill them because their souls still have a shred of God's grace remaining.

She was the key to both hell and heaven.

But she was more than just a key apparently. She balanced the universe.

Skylar sat still, taking in his words. She should be more shocked by this, but after everything she had been through, nothing surprised her anymore.

"Have you ever heard of a Hand of God, Skylar?" he asked. She lifted her head as his question.

"Hmmm?" she asked, only half listening.

"A Hand of God?" he repeated.

"No…I haven't."

"There are only a few things in all of creation that God has personally touched himself. They are so powered up with juice, that anything is possible. And you, sweet girl, are one of them…as are the archangels, such as myself. Along with the Arc of the Covenant…Aaron's staff…and so on and so forth. Very rare and hard to come by."

Skylar scoffed, shaking her head. "That's insane. God hasn't touched me. I think I would know if he had."

"Not you, as you are now. But before, in heaven."

Skylar pursed her lips together, choosing to say no more.

Michael cocked his head to the side, studying her for a long time.

"Something is wrong with you," he spoke, picking up on the obvious. "And is has nothing to do with the bomb I just dropped, has it?"

"I'm fine," she lied, hugging her arms tight around her body defensively.

"Now you and I both know that's not true. So, tell me, Skylar, what's bothering you most?"

"You're an angel," she spat out. "You tell me."

"It may be hard for you to believe this, but I don't go poking around in teenage girl's heads to get my kicks. Way too much melodrama if you ask me." He cracked a half smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

His lighthearted reply did nothing for Skylar. She reached up to clutch her pendant, something she did often when she needed comfort. But it was gone. Michael still had it.

"When - - when Dean died the first time…I had these really vivid nightmares. I thought I only had them because I was devastated that he was gone, and my mind was playing cruel tricks on me. Eventually, they tapered off, but now I'm having…"

She paused, trying to weigh her words before speaking. If anyone could make sense of what she was seeing, it would be Michael.

"Go on," he urged calmly, crossing one leg over the other, his full attention on her.

"I had a vision, very similar to those nightmare's I used to have."

"Of Dean?" he asked for affirmation. Skylar nodded her head weakly the lump in her throat making it difficult to swallow.

"I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, but I can't help but wonder if…"

"If what you're seeing is more than a simple - daydream?"

"I know it sounds crazy. But Sam used to have visions of the near future and those always came true. Except mine are…of the past, I think. From what I could tell anyway. It's insane, right?"

"Not at all," Michael spoke, giving a heavy sigh. He placed one finger against his lip in deep thought.

"What is it?" Skylar blurted out in a panic, sensing that Michael was keeping something from her. She didn't appreciate the way he chose not to look at her, as if he was debating on saying something more that she may not want to hear.

"Those visions you are having, Skylar…" he began.

"You know what they are?" she demanded for him to continue.

He nodded, rising to his feet to come nearer to her. She looked up at him with apprehension as she held her breath for the next words that left his lips. "They're memories, sweet girl. Memories of what Dean Winchester really is that you were never able to fully handle on your own."

"Memories?" Skylar laughed out loud at the ridiculous thought. "I - - I would know if Dean did those things. Especially if I was with him. People just don't forget something like that."

"They do if they were made to forget."

"Made to forget? What in the hell does that mean?" She stood then, putting several feet between them to garner the much-needed space that she craved.

He gave a heavy sigh while looking at the ground before answering.

"The angel's wiped your memory every time Dean did something that you couldn't handle. He was meant to protect you, and he did a fine job of that…maybe a little too good. But he couldn't very well keep you safe if you were too terrified to be near him."

Skylar could hear a ringing in her ears and despite feeling lightheaded, she remained on her feet. "You're saying that the nightmares I had when he went to hell? Of the vision I just had…they really happened?"

"You weren't meant to find out like this…"

"And how was I meant to find out?! You wiped my memories from me?! What gives you or any other angel the right to do something like that?!"

"Because you would have killed yourself otherwise!" Michael screamed in return, causing Skylar to stand in shock. He lowered his voice before continuing. "You were eight years old when Dean took you hunting for the first time because that's how old he was when John Winchester first took him. Sam was 14 before he killed anything, but with you, he put a gun in your hand and had you shooting a silver bullet into the heart of shapeshifter before you even lost all of your baby teeth. We wiped the memory from both of your minds before the end of the night. And unfortunately, that was only the beginning."

"Dean would never do that…I know what - - what kind of man he is. I've seen him do horrible things and I remember it."

"If we erased your memory every time Dean Winchester became violent or blinded by his need to hunt, then you'd have very few memories of him at all."

"So, you're saying that our entire relationship is a lie?" Skylar asked, feeling her world shattering into a million pieces.

"No," Michael answered instantly, moving towards her. "Your relationship has always been genuine. But there are just some things that a young impressionable mind should not witness. You were never meant to be a hunter. That's not why you were born. You were branded to Dean because he was supposed to keep you alive and safe. Only…we never anticipated that you would need to be kept safe from himself, in return."

Wiping a tear from her eye, Skylar folded her arms, dreading the next question she was about to ask.

"Since we've been married, have any of my memories been taken?"

"No," Michael instantly answered, looking genuine. "When Dean was resurrected from hell, he came back a changed man. He still has his moments, but he's different, for the better. He's very gentle towards you now, and if he had been like that always - - well, we wouldn't be having this conversation at the moment."

The relief she felt at his words gave her some comfort given the painful day she had had.

Michael continued. "I wanted to be the one to restore your memories when the time was right, but unfortunately, they are happening on their own. Just as they did when Dean sold his soul."

Skylar rose an eyebrow. "Hmmm?"

"Anytime Dean ceases to exist in the physical sense, you regain some recollection that you lost. The two of you share a very strong bond," he said, sitting down slowly on the bed. He had barely looked at her once since beginning his confession.

"I want him back," Skylar said, barely above a whisper. What had only been days felt like weeks. If what Michael was saying was true, it could take months or longer before their fight with Lucifer took place.

No matter what Dean had done…

Well, she couldn't say she didn't care what he had done. She did care.

She was so traumatized by his actions growing up that the angels were forced to wipe her memories to keep her from harming herself. That was a tough pill to swallow. But if she could regain all of her lost experiences, she could work them out on her own and they would get through them. After all, they made Dean forget in return. It's not like he had been lying to her all these years. He had no idea what he had done.

"I'll talk to my brother," Michael finally answered, his own voice shaking.

She didn't know if his unease came from his recent confession regarding her and Dean over the years…

Or if it had to do with facing his brother and adversary after casting him from heaven all those millennia ago?