Jack swallows the last of his bacon cheeseburger like he hasn't eaten in years. Sam and Dean watch him clear the plate, their eyebrows raised.

"Alright, take it slow," warns Dean. "And that's coming from me."

Jack wipes his fingers on a napkin. "It feels…good to eat," he says. "Do you think it means I'm getting stronger?"

"We hope so," says Sam. "Cass should be back soon with some potential angels and we'll be able to see what you can do then."

"You've converted angels before though," says Dean. "So, if you can do it now, it'll be a good sign that your powers are back."

Jack sits back in his chair, staring off into the middle space. He doesn't know if he can do it—not convert the humans, but to ask them to fight for him. If they refuse to fight, he doesn't think he can make them. And if one of them dies? What cruelty would it be to turn someone into an angel, doom them to an eternity in the Empty, and then have them die for him so soon after changing?

"Jack?" says Sam softly.

"Maybe…this is what the Empty wants," he breathes.

"Meaning?" says Dean.

Jack turns his gaze to them, frowning. "When a human dies, they go to Heaven or they go to Hell. When an angel or a demon dies, they go the Empty. But…if I convert an entire army of humans into angels and they die for me…?"

"They'll all go to the Empty," finishes Sam, understanding.

"When, only moments ago, they were supposed to go to Heaven," says Jack. "It just seems…I don't know. What if, in the end, I'll just be giving the Empty more angels?"

"It doesn't have to end like that," says Sam. "It doesn't have to be a bloodbath."

"But it will be," says Jack darkly. "You know it will be."

Sam and Dean glance at each other. Jack looks out the window into the darkness where hours ago, the spectral figures of Amara and the Empty asked for his life in sacrifice for the world.

"It's not enough to stop them," he whispers. "Even with a thousand angels, it won't be enough. I need to kill the Empty."

"Jack, we don't even know if that's possible," says Sam.

"The problem," says Jack, his focus still out the window, "is that the Empty shouldn't exist at all. Think about it—both angels and demons go there when they die. No afterlife. Just sleep."

"Yeah, but they live for eons," says Dean.

"Cass has lived for eons," counters Jack, turning back to them. "And we weren't too happy when he went to the Empty—all three times. It was because of me that we were able to rescue him. But what about all of the other angels?"

"The other angels are dicks," snaps Dean.

"Not all of them," says Jack. "And not all demons are bad. I would know more than anyone that just because you were born into something doesn't mean you're going to fit the mold of what the thing should be. Maybe…maybe the Empty doesn't fit with the design."

Sam frowns. "What are you saying?"

Jack likes this idea. It feels right. He looks to them, his face alight, and finds the two of them staring confusedly back at him. "The things about the Empty is that it doesn't account for your life, how you've lived it," he says hurriedly. "You could be like Cass and you'll still end up in the Empty. Or you could be like the angel who stabbed me in the cell—my first day on Earth. Both end up in the Empty when they die. Why should humans face judgement, but not angels or demons? What if—?" He stands up suddenly, causing Sam and Dean to jerk back in response. "What if Heaven didn't just include people? What if it included every being? Every soul who deserved to be there?"

"But the angels already live in Heaven," says Dean. "You'd just be making them immortal."

"Not if they weren't angels after death," says Jack slowly. "If they lost their powers, lost their ability to travel to Earth…if they were just…"

"Human," finishes Sam. "But…what about the Empty? It just lives on without any angels or demons?"

"It won't know what it doesn't have if it's dead."

Dean scrutinizes him. "It's an admirable plan, Jack, I'll give you that—but it's impossible. The Empty can't be killed. It's…it's the Empty! That would be like trying to kill…"

"God?" whispers Jack.

Sam and Dean glance at each other, but don't say a word, and Jack knows as ridiculous as his plan is, some part of it has convinced them.

"In a way, we've already killed God," says Jack. "And if we can kill God, surely we can kill the Empty, too."

"And Amara?" says Dean sharply.

Jack hesitates. "Amara, too. If it comes to it—"

A prickling at the back of Jack's mind causes him to pause. He feels a new presence in Heaven, nearby—a dozen souls, maybe more. He looks immediately out the kitchen window and sees the shadows of bodies moving in the darkness. And then he feels Cass, a warmth in that soul that is so familiar, so comforting.

"Cass is back," he whispers.

Sam, Dean, and Jack exit the kitchen, moving quickly down the front hall until they spill out into the grass in front of the house.

"Jack?" says the voice of Cass.

The moonlight reflects off of Cass's face.

"How many people are there?" Jack hears Dean ask.

It's too dark. Jack snaps his fingers—

In a blink, it's day again. Sam and Dean put their hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sudden sun. Jack rolls his shoulders, stretches his neck. Yes, he's definitely stronger. He shuts his eyes for a moment, lets the warmth stream onto his face. And when he opens his eyes, he sees Castiel standing before him with a small crowd of people standing behind him.

"Glad to see you're feeling more yourself," says Castiel, giving Jack a knowing look. He stands sideways to give way to crowd. "I've brought these people from Earth, willing participants, at least I think they are—"

Jack raises his eyebrow. "You think?"

Castiel searches awkwardly for his words. "It's hard to explain, Jack. The humans are…well, ever since you banished evil from the world, they're…just different."

"Different?" says Jack.

Castiel steps to the side. "See for yourself."

Confused, Jack looks across the small crowd of people. There are less than twenty of them, all different ages, genders, and races. At first, he can't see anything different about them. They look to him with blank, mildly curious expressions. There appears to be nothing apparently good or bad about them. They seem so…average.

And then it dawns on him. Their expressions aren't just mild—they are vacant. Something deeply important is missing from them, like their souls have been scooped out and thrown away. Jack focuses his mind on their souls, their energies, and finds them all to contain a fully intact soul. No damage. Then why do they look at him like hollow husks of a human?

"Cass…" he says quietly. "What's…wrong with them?"

Castiel shakes his head slowly, and Jack sees for the first time how deeply disturbed the angel really is. "Jack, it's not just them, it's…it's everyone. Everyone on Earth is like this. I couldn't find a single one…" He turns his blue eyes on Jack, the lines on his face creasing with worry. "They're all the same."

Jack turns to the nearest human to him, a young man that looks not much older than Jack himself. His black hair falls down to his shoulder, his shoulders narrow and still. He's a head taller than Jack, and has half an inch of stubble on his chin.

"What's your name?" says Jack to the man.

"Gregory Lin," says the man. His voice is slow, easy. It's almost like he's in a trance. "Are you God?"

The question in its unashamed bluntness catches him off-guard. "It's…complicated," says Jack. He peers at the man. "Do you know where you are right now?"

"No," says the man, shrugging. "But it's nice. I like it."

"You're in Heaven, Gregory. You're here because you're needed as a warrior—a warrior of Heaven."

Gregory gives Jack a wide, vacant smile. "That's sounds great, man," he says, his voice so flat that it sounds almost robotic. "I'd be a warrior for you."

"It'll require sacrifice," says Jack emphatically. "It'll be dangerous. A great war is about to rage between Heaven and the Darkness. What I'm asking of you could cost you your life."

But Gregory lets out a soft little laugh, like bells. "Yeah, my life is yours," he says happily. "Whatever you want, man."

Jack whirls around so that he's facing Castiel, Sam, and Dean. Sam and Dean look two parts confused and disturbed.

"What's wrong with them?" whispers Jack. "Why are they so…"

"Expressionless?" says Sam.

"Spiritless?" says Castiel.

"Drugged up?" offers Dean.

"Blank," finishes Jack. "It's like they don't care about anything, like they don't have any opinions. Is this Amara's doing? The Empty's?"

But Castiel shakes his head. "Why would Amara or the Empty do something like this? There's nothing wrong with their souls, nothing wrong with them physically. They're all perfectly content. They're bizarrely…happy. Jack, the truth is there's nothing wrong with them, they're just…"

"Blank," says Sam. He gives Dean a certain look that Jack knows immediately to mean that they have both come to the same conclusion without saying anything to each other.

"What is it?" he breathes. "What are you thinking?"

"Jack, after you zapped all evil from the world," says Dean in a low voice, "did you stick around to see it?"

Jack shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I…well, a lot was happening. I was having visions, and then the Empty took Cass again…"

"But you never snuck a look down there, just to see how things were?"

"I…no. I didn't. I guess I just assumed that things were better, that they were happy—"

"They are happy," says Sam in a hushed voice. "But what if—and Jack, no one is blaming you—what if erasing evil from Earth just made everyone into…empty shells of a human?"

Jack shakes his head. "But…that doesn't make any sense. Without evil—without monsters and diseases and nightmares—it should be paradise on Earth. It should be…perfect."

"Perfect compared to what they used to know," says Dean. "If you've known pain and suffering, you understand paradise for what it is. But if it's all you've known—"

"Jack, how long has it been, down on Earth?" asks Sam. "Since I left it. How many years?"

Jack frowns, concentrating. Time is strange up there, and even stranger when compared to the movement of time on Earth. But still he knows, like an instinct, like how he knows how to add and subtract, and that up is the opposite of down.

"Sixty-two years, four months, and thirteen days," he says automatically.

"That's three generations," says Castiel. "Look at Gregory. Young enough to have been born after the change. Everyone here would have been born after you erased evil from Earth, or at least they would been young enough to not know any different."

"So what are you saying?" says Jack.

"Maybe paradise doesn't count," says Dean, "if it's all you've known."

There is a weight to his words that renders the four of them silent. Jack racks his brain for any other explanation, but can't find one. The timing makes sense. Their behaviors, however strange, would align with Sam and Dean's theory. But this wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to give the humans peace, not turn them into impressionable puppets.

"Jack," says Castiel, "it would be irresponsible of me not to say that I recognize this behavior. I've seen it before—with the angels of the Lord, during Chuck's time. Angels were made by God, placed in Heaven, born to be soldiers. They—myself included—followed every order blindly, without complaint, without any feeling that anything was wrong. We didn't know any other way. Paradise was just…normal."

But Jack can barely think straight. If he did this to the planet, then he doomed humanity to a half-life, a life without passions or strengths or weaknesses, no love, no heartbreak, no healing, no thankfulness, no relief. Paradise, yes. But a paradise of emptiness.

"What do we do now?" he asks through clenched teeth.

Castiel glances at Sam and Dean. "Well, we've already got them here, and they all seem technically willing. Perhaps the best course of action would be to follow through with the plan. To change them into angels."

Jack looks to Sam and Dean, and the hardness of their expressions tells him all he needs to know.

"Alright," he says. "Let's do it."

He faces Gregory, who stares back at him vacantly. Jack places his hands on either side of his head.

"Get ready," says Jack. "I haven't done this in a while…"

And then his hands glow a warm golden color and his eyes glow, and the light travels from Jack's hands to Gregory's face, seeping through his veins, into his eyes which glow a bright white-blue. His eyes open wide, his mouth parting slightly. And then it's over.

Jack releases him roughly and stumbles backwards. Castiel catches him and gives him a shoulder to lean on while he recovers his strength.

"Are you okay?" says Castiel worriedly.

"Y-yeah," stutters Jack. "I think so. Did it work?"

A bright light erupts around Gregory, and in the shadow of the glade, a giant pair of wings flickers out from either side of him. When the light fades, he looks like himself again, but Jack can feel a new presence emanating from him, a stronger presence.

"Yeah," says Dean seriously. "I think it worked."

Jack pushes his hair out of his eyes and disentangles himself from Castiel's supportive hold. "Alright," he says determinedly. "Who's next?"


Hope you enjoyed! I've got some great material coming up that I can't wait for you to read! Leave a review if you can :)