"Check this out," Hope said, turning the book she held toward Aisy. "According to this, the carving on your box is called an Aquarian Star, or the Unicursal Hexagram. It says here that it's a symbol for great magic and power and was once used to guard the gates of Atlantis."

"Awesome," Aisy snorted, shaking her head. "So for generations, my family has been tasked with guarding a key to a mythological city."

Hope rolled her eyes, shoving the book into Aisy's hands as she pointed to a passage further down the page. "No, smartass, Look."

Aisy skimmed the page, her eyes widening when she came to the spot where Hope's finger tapped the page. "This says it's a key to the now defunct chapter houses for an organization called the Men of Letters. Do you think this could be it?"

"It's possible," Hope shrugged, "we'd have to do some more digging, but I'd say there's a pretty good chance."

Hope walked back to the desk, flipping pages in the book as she walked. As she turned a page, her knuckle sliced across the edge of the paper, drawing blood. "Dammit," she muttered, staring as a razor-thin line of blood welled on her finger. Aisy glanced up as Hope stuck the offending joint in her mouth. "Paper cut," she said, forming the words around her finger.

Aisy nodded, stifling a smile as Sam walked into the library. Hope pulled her finger out of her mouth and stared at it, momentarily confused. The blood was gone, as expected, but so was the telltale stinging of a barely-there open wound on the skin. She examined it closely and found no trace of the papercut. What the hell was happening to her?

"Hey, you two," Sam said, glancing at Hope with curious eyes. "What are you guys up to?"

"Hope was just helping me do some research about the origin of my box. We think it belongs to an organization that used to be called the Men of Letters? There's not much else to go on yet, but it's a start," Aisy said with a note of pride in her voice.

"That's great," Sam said, flashing her a smile. "Hey, Bobby will be here soon, so Dean and I are going to make a supply run real quick. You guys want anything specific?"

The rumble of the Impala's exhaust echoed through the house. Hope's face fell, and she turned away quickly to hide it. "I'm good, Sam. Thanks for asking though." She made a show of reading the page, although she didn't see a single word in front of her. Sam nodded, glancing at Aisy in question, and she shook her head, her gaze darting between Sam and Hope. Sam nodded, disappearing out of the house.

Hope slammed the book shut, returning it to its place on the shelf and glancing over her shoulder at Aisy. "I'm not feeling all that great. I think I'm gonna lay down for a bit. We can pick this up again later." Without waiting for an answer, Hope left the library and headed for the guest room.

Hope sighed, kicking off her boots and curling onto her side as she fought the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. How were they supposed to move forward together when there was always an invisible wedge between them, pushing them apart? Dean's silent treatment hurt more than she'd ever care to admit, no matter how much she might've understood his reasoning.

This would be so much easier if we weren't so terrible at communication, she thought sadly, sighing again as a soft knock came from the door. Hope said up, leaning back against the headboard. "Yes?"

Aisy stuck her head inside the room and gave Hope a timid smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hope lied, waving Aisy into the room. "I'm just tired. Sorry I bailed on you."

"It's okay," Aisy shrugged, folding one leg under her as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I get it. I know it's none of my business, but I'm guessing things have been tense between you and Dean since the hospital."

Hope's expression tightened, and she lowered her gaze, studying the stitching on the quilt next to her. "What gives you that idea?" she said, trying to keep her tone light.

Aisy snorted, turning her face to the ceiling as she grinned. "I'm a bartender, Hope. I'm pretty good at reading people. That, and Dean was in my bar the first night you were in the hospital."

Hope stared at Aisy, her brows knitted. "Of course he was. He's not exactly known for having great coping skills. What did he do?"

"Nothing, really," Aisy shrugged, standing up and pacing the small room. Her hands were shoved in the back pockets of her jeans, reminding Hope of one of her undergrad professors giving a lecture. "I don't know for sure he meant to end up there, for what it's worth."

"I'm sure he didn't," Hope said, gritting her teeth as anger seethed inside her chest. She took a deep breath, blowing it out. "So, on a scale of one to Chernobyl, how bad did he self-destruct?" Hope braced herself for the answer and couldn't hide her surprise when Aisy answered.

"I don't know him all that well," Aisy said with a shrug, "but I'd say on that scale it was probably a two. He ignored all Sam's phone calls, drank a fifth of whiskey, then passed out on my cot in the back room."

"That's—not at all what I expected you to say," Hope said, wearing an expression of shocked awe. "I figured he would've done something much worse."

"Well, he wasn't specific about what was going on, but it seemed like he was running away from something. Then Sam showed up and dragged him back, although Dean wasn't too thrilled about it," Aisy said.

"I'm sure he wasn't," Hope muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm glad to know that he didn't hit on every girl in sight though. That's usually how it goes after he drinks like that."

Aisy stared at Hope in bewilderment. "Okay, you said that way too calmly. If someone who claimed to love me tried some bullshit like that, I'd want to cut his balls off and force feed them to him. How are you so zen about the thought of him doing something like that?"

Hope shrugged one shoulder. "I trust him. Of all the ways Dean has or could ever hurt me, screwing someone else hasn't been on the list at all. Dean is a huge flirt, and whiskey brings it out even more, but he loves me and he would never hurt me that way. It's not in his nature. Besides, if he ever did, I'd be gone so fast his head would spin. I might love him, Aisy, but I'm not a doormat."

"Good. Maybe I should stick around and see if your zen rubs off on me," Aisy replied with a wry smile. "So what should we do now?"

"I guess we just wait until everyone gets home," Hope said as her stomach let out a loud growl, "and hope they bring back food."

Almost an hour passed before Sam, Dean, and Bobby all walked into the house simultaneously, and Hope and Aisy glanced up as they entered the library. "Please tell me you brought food," Hope said expectantly. "I'm starving."

Dean grinned at her, holding up the handful of grocery bags he carried. "Gotcha covered, sweetheart. Steaks, potatoes, and rabbit food. Here," he said as he tossed her a bag of black licorice, "I got you your favorite."

Hope caught the bag, glancing at it and scowling at him. "You dick." She lobbed the candy at his head, her eyes glittering with mock indignation as he caught it easily. Sam snorted, busying himself in the kitchen with Bobby as they put away the rest of the groceries. Aisy stared at them, frowning, unsure how serious they were.

Dean's grin widened as he shook his head. "Aww, you know you love me, Hope."

"You think you're so cute," Hope growled, narrowing her eyes at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, his green eyes twinkling with amusement.

"What are you talking about, sweetheart?" Dean said, tossing her a bag of her favorite beef jerky. "I'm freakin' adorable and you know it."

Hope rolled her eyes and tore into the bag, shoving a strip of the dehydrated meat into her mouth like a ravenous animal. Aisy watched her with a confused smirk, and Hope held out the bag like an offering. "Want some?" she asked, swallowing and shaking the package.

"I'm good, thanks," Aisy said, watching Dean disappear into the kitchen. She leaned across the couch and whispered, "what just happened?"

Hope's eyes flitted toward Dean, who moved around the kitchen like an expert chef, prepping the steaks for the grill. The back door was open, and the sounds of Sam and Bobby's good-natured argument about proper charcoal briquette stacking gave Hope an odd sense of peace. Of home. It was an argument she'd heard dozens of times. As a matter of fact, she was certain she'd heard it every time the grill was used, and every time, Bobby won, no matter who he was arguing with.

"Peace offering," Hope said with a soft smile as she rubbed her thumb across the front of the bag she held. "It's Dean's way of saying he's done sulking now."

Hope handed the bag to Aisy, who stared in surprise as Hope got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to throw her arms around Dean's waist as he massaged spices into the steaks in front of him. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, closing her eyes and inhaling the scent of him. "I love you, you stubborn ass," she murmured into his back, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

Aisy watched the two of them from her spot on the couch, suddenly feeling like she was spying on something very private as the corner of Dean's mouth lifted and he stopped what he was doing, turning to wrap his arms around Hope and careful to not touch her with his messy hands. He said nothing at first, instead, he pressed his lips to the side of Hope's head for a moment before murmuring something Aisy couldn't hear. Whatever it was made Hope smile, and Aisy's insides warmed at the sight.

Aisy's thoughts turned toward Sam, and heat rushed to her face as she wondered if they might end up like that. She pushed the thought away, cursing herself for being silly and sentimental. Even if Sam did think that way about her, once Dean and Hope learned the truth, it would be all over for her and Sam anyway.

An air of contentment fell over the house as the dinner preparations continued, and Hope wandered out onto the porch, taking up her usual spot on the railing. She supposed one day she'd be too big to be able to perch like that, one foot swaying slightly as she used the other for balance, but right then, she could do as she pleased. Hope's gaze wandered to the western horizon, and her thoughts followed quickly behind, broken only by the low and distant rumble of thunder.

The wind had picked up now, the muggy late summer breeze lifting strands of Hope's hair and whipping them across her face as the storm spread across the sky like a heavenly tsunami, blocking out the late afternoon sun. Hope heard Dean calling her name from the kitchen, and she slid off the railing and went inside, leaving the front door open as the scent of the coming rain hung thickly in the air.

Bobby carried in the steaks with Sam hot on his heels as the first fat raindrops began to pelt the roof. "Just in time," Dean murmured, glancing toward the ceiling as a streak of lightning flashed and thunder shook the walls of the house. "Come and get it," he said to no one in particular as he made his plate and took a seat at the kitchen table.

After everyone got their plates and settled around the table, they ate in silence for several minutes, listening to the storm rage on outside. It was comforting in a way Aisy hadn't expected, the clinking of utensils against plates, although the lack of conversation was a bit unnerving. She remembered many silent family dinners before Jake left them, and they always made Aisy feel like she was playing hot potato with a short-fused stick of dynamite. Nothing made her think that now though, and she felt the lines of tension in her shoulders relaxing with each passing moment.

"So," Bobby said, taking a pull from his beer bottle, "I was thinking, after we eat we should try to summon Atropos and see what she has to say now that Hope's awake."

Aisy nearly choked on the bite of her baked potato. "You want to summon one of the Fates? Do you really think that's a good idea?" Lightning flashed outside, and the lights flickered around them as they each held a collective breath, trying to decide how to react. Thunder shook the window panes again as the electricity stuttered and died altogether.

"Balls," Bobby muttered, pushing his plate away and getting up from the table to fish some candles out of a drawer near the sink.

"Well, isn't this romantic," Hope quipped as Bobby lit two candles and set them in the holders on top of the table. "Bobby, you shouldn't have."

Bobby snorted, shaking his head as Dean bit his lip, and Sam looked away, struggling to breathe from the effort it was taking not to laugh. Even Aisy looked slightly amused. "Idjit," he muttered, sitting down again, the corners of his mouth twitching beneath his beard.

They finished their meal, gathering together in the library after cleaning up the dinner dishes. "So," Sam said, lacing his fingers behind his head, "how do we do this? Summon a Moirai?"

"Like this," came a voice from the corner of the room. Atropos stepped forward, leaning against the corner of Bobby's desk. "You wished to see me?"

Sam swallowed several times, suddenly tongue-tied at the sight of Atropos sitting before them. "Yeah," Dean said, glaring at Sam before turning his attention back to her. "Hope says you want us to free Lucifer to fix whatever's wrong with the timeline. Have you lost your mind?"

Atropos leveled her gaze at him, regarding him like one would examine a bug under a magnifying glass. "Technically, what I said was opening Lucifer's cage was the key to fixing what you three idiots broke in the first place."

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, counting in his head. Exploding on a celestial being with the power to end him with little more than a snap of her fingers didn't seem like the most prudent course of action at the moment. "If we open that cage, Lucifer walks free and the world burns. How is that better than a broken timeline?"

Atropos rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on one hand and studying the cuticles of her other. "Like I told the other one," she gestured toward Hope, "I never said it would be better, I said it would fix it." Atropos spread her hands wide, shrugging.

"Well, from where humanity sits, that won't fix a damn thing, and we're not doing it," Dean said, the air of finality in his voice heavy, like someone threw a wet blanket over a fire.

"Even if your precious angel friend's sanity hangs in the balance?" Dean flinched, and Atropos smirked at him, a knowing glint in her eye.

"What do you know about Cas?" Dean demanded, seething internally that he sounded so worried.

"Not much," Atropos admitted, pushing off the desk and pacing the floor. "Just that he's missing. Something you three dimwits haven't figured out yet, apparently."

"Where is he?" Dean demanded, grabbing Atropos by her shoulders. She stared at him, unfazed by his grip on her.

"If I knew that," she said, twisting out of Dean's grasp, "I would tell you. As it is, all I've been able to gather is that he went to see the archangel Raphael and hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"But that was weeks ago," Hope whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Exactly," Atropos said, gesturing in Hope's direction. "Weren't you even a little suspicious when he didn't come back?"

"We were a little busy," Dean said, his gaze darting toward Hope. "By the way, what the hell was that in the hospital? With the demons?"

"What are you talking about?" Atropos shook her head, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't do anything."

"Well, something powerful exorcised the half dozen demons that were possessing the hospital staff after we gave Hope the cure," Sam said from the corner of the room, finally finding his voice. "Whatever it was wouldn't let us in the room either."

Atropos shook her head again, her face purposely expressionless. "It wasn't me. I don't get involved in the affairs of mortals that way. I'd look a little closer to home for the answer if I were you." She glanced first at Hope, then Aisy, before turning her gaze back to Dean. "Failing that, find your angel, Castiel. I'm sure he has the answers you seek—if Raphael didn't kill him to ensure his silence."

Before anyone had a chance to respond, Atropos was gone. "Son of a bitch," Dean roared, running a hand down his face. Guilt spread through his chest like a poison choking off his lungs. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and right now, he desperately wanted to break something.

Hope sat curled up on one cushion of Bobby's old couch, chewing on her lip as she turned Atropos words over in her mind. Sam watched her with bright, curious eyes but said nothing. "Dean—" she started, but Dean was already gone. "Dammit," she muttered, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling as the screen door slammed.

"What is it?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you know something?"

"Not exactly," Hope replied, shaking her head. "Atropos is speaking in metaphors, I think. What if—" she paused, taking a breath, "what if Lucifer isn't in the cage?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked. "Of course he's in the cage. He'd be terrorizing the entire world if he wasn't."

"Maybe," Hope replied with a shrug. "But think about it guys, she was overly specific. She said opening the cage would fix the timeline, not that releasing Lucifer would fix the timeline. There's something she's not telling us, either because she doesn't know, or because she just didn't want to spoil her own amusement. Either way, the only way to know for sure is to crack it open, I think. Trust me, we need answers. Sooner—rather than later."

"Why? What's happened?" Sam demanded, his eyes boring into Hope's face as she studiously avoided his gaze.

Hope sighed, glancing at the doorway to make sure Dean hadn't returned. "If I show you this, you can't tell Dean. He'll freak, and probably lock me up or something." Sam and Bobby glanced at each other warily, unsure of how to answer. "You have to promise me."

"Fine," Sam said, gesturing toward her, "but depending on what it is, you may have to tell him anyway."

Hope nodded. "I know, but for now, until I have something concrete, I don't want to worry him." She got up from the couch, grabbing the silver hunting knife from the bookshelf nearby and holding the edge of the blade against her forearm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded as Hope drew the blade across her skin, cutting deep. Blood streamed from the gash, a few drops staining the rug before the same brilliant blue light that had filled the hospital room shone beneath her skin, instantly stopping the bleeding and healing the wound.

"Oh my God," Aisy whispered, shaking her head. "How?"

"I have no idea," Hope said honestly. "I only realized it earlier today when I got a papercut that healed almost instantly. And when Dean told me what happened at the hospital—" She stopped speaking, shaking her head. "What the hell was in that virus cure, anyway?"

"You don't think the angel blood could do this, do you?" Aisy said in a low voice to no one in particular.

"I highly doubt it," Bobby said, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of what he'd seen. "Besides, Hope has been possessed by an angel and didn't have any side effects like that. I doubt a few drops of angel blood could give off that kinda mojo. One thing's for sure, end of the world or not, Sam and Dean are gonna have to bust open Lucifer's cage so we can figure out what the hell is going on."

"We can't," Sam said quietly, shaking his head. Hope thought he looked embarrassed, although she wasn't sure why. "In order to open Lucifer's cage, we have to kill Lilith. That might've been possible before when I—" Sam shook his head again, "there's no way. Not now. I'm not strong enough to kill her."

"You and Dean also aren't alone," Aisy said, glancing sideways at Hope. "Hope and I can help. I mean, from the looks of things, she's practically invincible now."

Hope snorted, wiping the blade clean and replacing it on the shelf. "Yes, but convincing Dean without telling him the truth will be impossible. We're going to have to figure out something else. Besides, we have something else we can focus on for now."

"Yeah?" Bobby said, "what's that?"

Hope glanced at Aisy, who nodded in agreement, and Hope turned back to Bobby. "Aisy has a box that holds a key to what we believe goes to the chapter houses of a secret organization called the Men of Letters. It's what we've been researching since she got here this morning."

"Show me this box," Bobby said, his eyes bright with interest. Aisy glanced nervously at Hope, and she nodded encouragingly. Aisy stood up, heading for the guest room without saying a word. She returned a few moments later, holding the box out to Bobby, who held it gingerly in one hand and traced the carved lines on the lid with the other.

"I've seen this before," Bobby said, handing the box back to Aisy. "How long have you had this?"

"Since my dad died," Aisy answered, lifting her chin. "It's some kind of family heirloom, my dad left it to me to keep safe before he died. Apparently my family has always guarded it, although I have no idea why."

"I do," Bobby said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly beneath his beard. "Wait here." He walked out of the room without looking back, returning a few minutes later with a dusty, leatherbound journal that he offered to Aisy. She glanced at Bobby with a raised eyebrow, taking the offered book with slightly trembling hands.

"This was my dad's," Aisy whispered, running her fingers along the worn leather cover and leaving long streaks in the dust. "How did you—"

"Read it," Bobby said, jerking his chin toward the book. "It will explain everything better than I could."

Aisy nodded, curling up on the opposite end of the couch from Hope and gingerly opening the journal. Aisy held it with such reverence; Hope wasn't sure if it was because she was excited or thought the pages might come to life and bite her. The storm had passed, the constant rumble of thunder fading into the distance beyond the house. The power was still out, and the iron-gray sky outside made it impossible to read in the dim evening light.

Aisy moved to the kitchen where the candles were still burning, sliding into a seat at the table. Her mind worked frantically, trying to make sense of what she'd seen and heard, but it was almost impossible to think clearly. She put everything else out of her mind as she flipped through the pages, skimming the blocked print she knew so well and biting back tears as her dad's words blurred together on the pages.

After several minutes, Hope stood up and walked to the door. "I'm tired, I think I'm gonna go to bed. It's getting too dark to read anything anyway."

Sam nodded, glancing toward Aisy, who was lost in her reading. "I'm gonna go find Dean. I'm sure he's probably just in the garage or something."

Aisy didn't notice once Sam, Hope, and Bobby left the room. She didn't even have any idea how much time had passed when she finally reached the end of the journal and looked up to find the old house still and silent. Sighing, she stood up and stretched, tucking the journal under her arm as she retreated to the guest room for some much-needed sleep, only to find it empty. Where the hell was everyone, she wondered blankly as she collapsed headfirst into the pillow and was asleep in seconds.

Morning light streamed through the dirty window, stabbing Aisy in the eyes as she sat up and rubbed the grit from them. Something occurred to her now, shining brightly against the dullness of her other sleep-heavy thoughts, and she reached for her dad's journal, flipping to the last page, to the letter he'd written to her.

Aislinn,

I've left this journal with Bobby; he'll keep it safe, and I know you'll see it when the time is right. I wish I'd been smart enough to tell you all the things you need to know while I still had the chance, but we both know that we are all guilty of believing we have all the time in the world.

I'm sure you know by now, but you are powerful, sweetheart. You possess magic unlike anything I've ever seen before, or probably will again. You must choose a side in the coming war, and I know you'll choose the correct path. The key will help you do that, but first, you must find the truth. The rest of my journal will help you solve the puzzle because I know you could never resist a good one. Trust Bobby and the Winchester boys; you couldn't ask for better allies or more loyal friends. Above all, take care of yourself, my sweet girl, and don't forget to open your heart and let others love you.

Love,

Dad

Aisy wiped a tear out from her eye as the door opened, and Hope stuck her head inside. She quickly closed the journal, laying it beside her on the bed as she pasted on a fake smile. "Morning," Aisy said, beckoning Hope inside the room.

"How did you sleep?" Hope asked as she crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, watching Aisy with curious eyes.

"Alright, I guess," Aisy shrugged, reaching for the journal. Something was bothering her, and she couldn't put a finger on what it was. She flipped through the pages, looking for an entry from around the time her brother took off. Her brows furrowed as she read, and Hope leaned closer without realizing it.

"Find anything?" Hope asked, and Aisy glanced up at her through thick lashes, wondering for a moment how much to share with this strange woman who was capable of smiting demons while unconscious and healing herself. Her father's words tumbled around in her head, and she looked away, holding out the journal.

"Maybe," Aisy said, pointing to the page she was looking at. "Dad wrote this right after Jake took off. I think it might be telling me something, if I could just remember why, this would be so much easier." Hope glanced at the page, skimming the words quickly.

July 17th

"... It's been 39 days, 8097 minutes since Jordana's death, and I still can't believe she's gone. Jake is not coping, and I fear he resents me…she was the center of everything for me..."

July 31st

"...for the 98th time, Jake has accused me of standing back and just letting Jordana die, and I grow tired of keeping up the charade. It would've taken an army of 5556 to save her, and all we had at the time was each other. He's going to leave soon, I know it, and I hope that Aislinn will be strong enough to survive without him. There's too much at stake for her to be left without protection…"

"Hmm," Hope said thoughtfully, standing up and walking toward the library, her mind turning over the possibilities as she sat down at the desk and grabbed a pad and pen, scribbling notes and marking them out as she flipped through the pages of the journal.

Aisy watched from the doorway, frowning in confusion. "What are you doing?" Aisy asked, coming to stand beside Hope and stare at the journal over her shoulder. "Wait—" Aisy pointed to the entries Hope had just been reading, "my mom died when I was eleven, but she died in December. Jake didn't take off until right before I turned twelve. This isn't right."

"Interesting," Hope said, scribbling on the pad in her barely legible doctor's handwriting. The two of them glanced up as Sam cleared his throat from the doorway, and Aisy smiled at him while Hope returned her attention to the journal and her notes.

"You guys want coffee?" Sam asked, heading for the kitchen to start a new pot without waiting for an answer. "What are you guys doing?" he asked as he dumped fresh grounds into the basket and pressed the button.

"Sam, is there a map of the U.S. here?" Hope interrupted, not paying any attention to Sam's question. He shot Aisy a questioning look, and Aisy shrugged. She glanced up, her gaze darting between Sam and Aisy, who stared at her like she'd just asked them to tapdance a merry jig completely naked. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam said, smirking slightly as he crossed the room and pulled a road atlas off the top shelf of the bookcase. "What are you looking for anyway?"

"I'll know it when I find it," Hope said more curtly than she intended, but she was on a roll right now. Sam shrugged, leaving her alone as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, closing his eyes. He was exhausted, but he forced himself to wake up when he felt Aisy's eyes boring into his skull.

"Did you and Dean know my father?" Aisy asked, her tone suspicious.

Sam's eyes snapped open, and he stared at her, confusion etched into the lines of his face. "No. Of course not. If we had, I would've told you—I swear."

"Then how did he know you?" Aisy demanded, rubbing a hand down her face. "He mentions you and Dean specifically. He called you the Winchester boys. How did he know?"

"Aisy, I swear I have no idea," Sam replied, holding up his hands. "I mean, maybe Atropos came to him too. Or someone else. It's not outside the realm of possibility." Aisy avoided his gaze as she considered this, deciding that he wasn't wrong. She nodded, blowing out a breath as Hope jumped to her feet in the library behind them.

"I got it!" Hope yelled, turning in a circle as she did an excited happy dance. Sam and Aisy jumped up, tripping over themselves to get to her.

"What did you find?" Aisy demanded, breathless with anticipation. Sam hung back, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"When you said the dates were wrong, it got me thinking," Hope said, double-checking her notes. "The numbers aren't literal. They're coordinates."

"Coordinates to what?" Sam asked, and propelled by curiosity, he took a step forward.

"To this," Hope said, spinning the atlas around to face them and pointing at the dead center of the map. "Lebanon, Kansas."

"What the hell is in Lebanon?" Aisy said, her brows furrowing. "My dad and I hunted a werewolf there once, it's a one stoplight town with like two hundred people. It's got kind of a 'lost in time storybook vibe' if that makes sense, but there's nothing else there."

"Trust me," Hope said, tapping the page. "Whatever that key opens, it's there."

"So, roadtrip?" Aisy said, her mouth quirking up at the corners. Dean walked into the kitchen, glancing at the three of them as he poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. His hair was sleep mussed and standing on end, like a fluffy hedgehog.

"Did I hear right?" He said gruffly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Did you say roadtrip? To where?"

"Lebanon, Kansas," Hope said, glancing at him with trepidation. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he would say next, and she was in no mood to hear it. "I found the location of whatever Aisy's key opens."

"Awesome," Dean said. It was too early for Hope to tell whether he'd intended the word to be sarcastic or if it was just his natural early morning personality shining through to greet the day. "Be ready to leave in twenty minutes."

"Really?" Aisy said, her voice hopeful. "You guys are going to help me find this place? What's in it for you?"

"Nothing," Sam shrugged, grinning at her. "Just returning a favor." Aisy smiled back at him, standing up to go grab her bag.

"I guess I'll meet you guys outside then," Aisy said, disappearing into the hallway. Dean nodded for Sam to go too, and Sam shook his head slightly as he stood up to leave.

Once Hope and Dean were alone in the kitchen, he glanced at her with wary eyes. "You're staying here, Hope," he said without preamble.

Hope closed her eyes and blew out an exasperated breath. "The fucking hell I am, Dean. I'm fine, and I can take care of myself. I'm pregnant, not useless."

"That's right, Hope. You're pregnant, and there's no telling what kind of trouble we will run into on this little errand. You have no business being out there hunting in your condition."

"Seriously, Dean? What happened to doing this together?" Hope demanded, her face flushed with anger.

"That was before, when it was just our lives at stake. Are you really that irresponsible, Hope? You're carrying our child, that should be your main concern right now. Not hunting monsters."

"You're right," Hope said quietly, and Dean blinked incredulously. "So how about this? You don't leave me here, and I don't leave your sight while we're on this trip?" Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Hope held up her hand to stop him. "And before you say no, just remember that I know exactly where you're going, so even if you leave me here, I'll just follow."

Dean gritted his teeth, his fingertips turning white against the dark ceramic cup as he gripped it tighter. "Son of a bitch," he growled, his jaw muscle twitching. "Fine. But I'm not leaving you alone until we know it's safe, you hear me?"

Hope nodded, throwing her arms around Dean's neck and kissing him so hard that he struggled to catch his breath as she bounded away to grab her bag, leaving him staring after her and wondering when the hell he'd become so easy to manipulate. He sighed, finishing the lukewarm coffee and depositing the cup in the sink before heading upstairs to get his own bag.

Twenty minutes later, the four of them climbed into the Impala, glancing nervously at each other. "You know you guys don't have to do this," Aisy said, staring out the window as Dean started the car.

"No, we don't have to," Dean said, flashing Aisy a half-smile, "but Sammy here likes you and I owe you for helping with Hope, so here we are." Sam shot Dean a bitchface, and Dean ignored him. "Besides, solo road trips are no fun. You know what makes them even better?"

Aisy shook her head, frowning. Sam shot Dean a look, shaking his head. "No, Dean. We're not doing that again."

"Oh yes we are, Sammy!" Dean said, the tires crunching on the gravel as he pulled out of the drive. He popped in a cassette tape and started singing along with the music. "Roadtrip Karaoke is awesome! You're just afraid you're going to lose and look bad in front of Hope and Aisy."

Aisy and Hope snickered, and Sam shot them a sour look. "I am not! You just cheat!"

"How the hell can you cheat at karaoke, Sam?" Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned at him, his green eyes glittering with amusement.

"I don't know, but you do," Sam grumbled, staring out the window. Dean shrugged, turning up the radio.

"C'mon Sammy!" Dean yelled, "sing it with me now!" Sam rolled his eyes, joining in on the chorus as Aisy and Hope hummed along from the backseat, lending occasional backup vocals. As they rolled down the highway, the four of them all crammed in the car together, Aisy felt a sense of peace come over her she hadn't experienced since her mother died.

This feeling was so foreign it silenced her, and she leaned back in the seat, watching the other three with a detached curiosity. They weren't related by blood, but they were family anyway, their bond forged by something thicker than blood—shared pain and experience. Hope was right; there was a lot about Sam Winchester Aisy didn't know, but that was perfectly fine with her for now. After all, what was the fun of falling in love with someone without a little mystery?