Standing on the roof of a broken church, Billie surveyed the work below. Her reapers were resolutely working in the remains of the village, collecting the dozens of souls who had been buried under the layers of mud and volcanic shale. A few days ago, a powerful typhoon had hit the area, then an earthquake, and then the area had been devastated by mudslides. Why was Chuck exerting his influence on this region of Japan? Motionless, she cast outward with her formidable senses, looking for clues. The Creator wasn't here of course, but she could feel his essence in the chaos like a lingering whiff of cheap cologne. But other than that, his intent was a mystery, and Billie really didn't like mysteries. Adopting the mantle of Death gave her extraordinary prescience, but she had no trust in God or his plans.

As she pondered, Billie felt a different sort of presence, one that was both unexpected and unwelcome. She had assigned Jessica to monitor the brothers Winchester. Billie itched to take them off the board, to erase their particular rule-breaking disorder for once and for all. Still, Sam and Dean had a cosmic role to play, and until they served that purpose, she would protect them, albeit grudgingly. If Jessica was here and not at her assigned task, it had better be important.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, gripping her scythe more tightly to channel her annoyance. Jessica gulped, gaze darting to the darkly glinting weapon.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry to bother you. But there's a little problem." Jessica was hiding her fear well, but trembled slightly, unable to meet Billie's eyes. Death didn't wait for her to elaborate, extending her thoughts to seek out Dean or Sam herself, but the young reaper continued anyway.

"So, um, Lucifer has been tempting the nephilim and then Michael, the one from the apocalypse world, found the Bunker." Billie listened as Jessica rambled for a moment, then using her own powers, she directed her attention into the near future for the Winchesters. She sighed. Once again, the order of the universe was hanging on the two flannel-wearing Hunters. Only this time, the situation required some creative intervention, but she had a plan, one that should cause minimal disruption to the timeline. She cut Jessica's report off in mid-sentence and the reaper fell silent immediately.

"Go back to my library and await my instructions." The woman nodded and disappeared. Pulling her duster around her more closely, Billie briefly searched the earth and then, when she found who she was looking for, stepped off the roof into the ether.

xxxxxx

The perfumed scent of Earl Grey curled slowly from the fresh cup at Rowena's elbow as she poured in a dram of rich whiskey. It was good to be back home. It had been a pleasure assisting young Charlie to rediscover some of the luxuries of life, but the woman was prone to a touch of melancholy with a wee side of bitterness. Neither attribute made for a fun travelling partner. After a few weeks, Rowena had left the lass in a lovely suite at the Four Seasons in Arizona and made her way home.

Now, she was back in her comfortably appointed apartment, settled behind her ornate desk, enjoying a nice spot of tea. Rowena was happy to be spending time with her only true and faithful companion - magic. She was considering how to tweak a useful hex with a new combination of herbs when she felt an unseen being infiltrate the apartment. Several mystic alarms had failed to trigger which suggested something far more potent than the occasional snooping via astral projection from a rival witch. Rowena kept her eyes on her notebook, sending tendrils of magic into the room, then stilled, suppressing a gasp as she identified her visitor.

"And to what do I owe the honour of a visit from Death?" she asked as calmly as she could, setting aside her pen and folding her hands into her lap to hide their faint tremble. Death stepped into being across from her desk in a swoosh of black leather, her menacing scythe at her side. Billie smiled at her coldly, before casually leaning against one of the nearby armchairs.

"Hello Rowena," she began imperiously. "I see that since we last met, you have abandoned your foolish quest to resurrect Crowley." The pointed reminder wasn't lost on Rowena. She'd been at a low point then and had acted a bit rashly. Still, it wasn't very kind of Billie to throw that in her face. Death or not, there was something called manners.

"What do you want?" she asked with a bit of a pique.

"I need you to save Sam Winchester." Death said those words as if she was asking for a glass of water. Rowena was worried, Although she had tried to kill him back in the Spring, she had grown rather fond of Samuel since her reincarnation. Even though he ultimately would be the one to bring about her permanent death, Sam and his brother were allies now, and the closest thing she had to friends. She didn't want anything to happen to the boy.

"Save him from what?" Rowena asked the question, but the answer didn't really matter, if Sam was in danger, she would do what she could to help. She owed him that, if not for the olive branch of friendship he had offered, then for the page he had given her from the Black Grimoire.

"From death, of course," Billie gave her another chilling smile, undeniably pleased with her own irony. "Sam is about to die and as I told you before, that will upset the natural order. So, gather what you need for a stasis spell."

"And why would I need that particular bit of magic?" Rowena closed her notebook and stood ready to open her secret room where she kept her supplies. Just because she was going to help, didn't mean that she planned to do it blindly.

"Because I need you to keep his body safe, while I take care of his soul. Now hurry." Rowena was certain that Death could resurrect Sam herself, but she was afraid to try Death's patience by asking any more questions. Instead, she accessed her storeroom and began quickly collecting various ingredients and objects of her craft. She stuffed them into her valise and rejoined Billie. Tilting her head, as if she were listening to a distant voice, Death frowned. "Interesting," she said in that maddeningly rich and imperturbable voice.

"What?" asked Rowena, her curiosity worth the risk. Billie just shook her head.

One moment she had been looking at the magnificent painting that sat above her desk, the next she was standing in the library room of the Winchester's bunker. As abrupt as it was, teleportation had a bald efficiency that Rowena could appreciate. Perhaps the only drawback was that she had to carry her own bag. Her idle contemplations were interrupted by a broken, ragged cry of despair from the adjacent room. She recognized Dean's voice even with the heartbreaking agony it carried and grimaced, remembering the grim reason for their visit. Following after Billie, Rowena scurried to the arch that separated the two spaces. In her centuries of life, Rowena had seen a lot of unpleasant scenes, many of them of her own making, but she felt a pang of both sorrow and fear as she stopped and assessed the tableau before her.

By the stairs at her feet lay a blackened body. Smoke was still rising, bringing with it the sickening scent of charred flesh and hair. Burnt onto the concrete was the inescapable image of vast wings and if she peered closely, she could just recognize the body as belonging to Lucifer. She gasped, was it possible that the Devil was dead? It had been a comfort when Sam had left him behind in the other world, but the archangel was as slippery as an eel and had a way of turning up again like a bad penny. Having him dead was much preferable.

Beyond Lucifer lay Sam in a growing pool of blood, a silver blade protruding obscenely from his chest. Even knowing why Billie had brought her, Rowena found her eyes misting over with tears. The poor, dear boy.

Near Sam's body was Dean, his hand outstretched in an effort to reach his brother. He was in bad shape, clearly suffering from several serious injuries. As horrific as the sight of Sam's impaled corpse was, the expression on Dean's face was infinitely worse. His anguish as he looked at Sam was so intense, so raw, that Rowena found herself unable to watch. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she turned and quickly dashed them away, embarrassed by her uncharacteristic empathy.

Distracted from the Winchesters by a shout of pain, Rowena looked up to witness a strange battle being waged. Young Jack had his hands firmly clenched around the skull of a man who, based on Charlie's description, could only be the apocalypse-world version of the archangel Michael. Jack was radiating with a mighty energy that Rowena had never seen before. Waves of golden light were pulsing around the two angelic beings, growing stronger by the second. With another scream of agony blood began to stream from the archangel's eyes, nose and ears.

On the other side of the room, Castiel was also watching the clash. The handsome angel's white shirt was stained red with blood, and he looked unsteady on his feet. He spared her and Billie a brief glance, but his attention was riveted on the conflict in front of him. As Jack's attack intensified, so did the unnatural light surrounding the two.

"Cover your eyes!" Cas shouted, and Rowena did as she was told, turning away just as a blast of energy washed over her. With one arm protecting her face, she stumbled blindly until she was able to steady herself against the nearby wall. Beside her she felt, rather than saw Death's implacable presence pass by her. Tentatively opening her eyes, she scanned the room. Cas was hovering by Jack who had crumpled to the floor. Michael's body was a battered husk surrounded by another set of massive, scorched wings. Dean was wholly indifferent to the battle that had raged behind him, his whole focus on his brother. He had to be in a significant amount of pain, but his face showed only his horror as watched wide eyed, as Billie crouched over Sam.

Death carefully pulled the blade from Sam's body and laid it aside. Then drawing a large vial from within her voluminous jacket, Death put her hand on his bloody chest. When she pulled her fingers away, a bluish white light followed. Rowena held her breath in awe. That could only be Sam's soul. It was magnificently beautiful, and she felt honoured to see something so personal and precious. Billie placed the soul into the vial, tucked it back into her coat, and then stepped away. Sam's body withered somehow, and Rowena heard a muffled sob. She looked at Dean, but the unfortunate lad had clearly succumbed to his injuries and grief.

"It's time." Billie intoned, gesturing for Rowena to come closer. With a wave of her hand, Death lifted Sam up from the floor and laid his body on the map table. Rowena set her bag down beside him, overwhelmed with her sad duty. It seemed so hopeless, and it wasn't fair. These boys fought so hard to do right, to save a world that would never appreciate them. They didn't deserve this tragedy. "Keep his body from decaying," Death commanded as she gathered her leather duster around her.

"What good will that do with a great, gaping wound in his chest?" Rowena questioned. Billie just stared at her with those terrible dark eyes.

"Just do as you're told, and it will become clear with time." And with that cryptic comment, Death disappeared.

"Bollocks," groused Rowena under her breath. It made a hell of a lot more sense to be checking on Dean, who might have a chance of recovering from his injuries. She didn't much appreciate being ordered around, but she knew better than to disobey. Pulling a bronze bowl out of her bag, she began to prepare her spell.

xxxxxx

"Jack," whispered Cas, hands hovering over the young man's back. A loud ringing made him wince and he realized that the boy was resonating. In killing the archangels Jack must have absorbed at least some of both Lucifer and Michael's grace. And since Michael had overpowered him and stolen a lot of Castiel's own grace, that meant that Jack had the grace of three foreign angels, on top of his own. And Michael's grace wasn't even of this world. It was a miracle the boy didn't completely shatter under the strain. Jack was otherwise unhurt, but perhaps it was best that he remained unconscious until he could process the extra grace running through his body. Regardless, there was nothing he could do for Jack at the moment, so Cas turned to check on his friends.

Staggering over to Dean, Cas knelt and passed a hand over Dean's body, tapping ruthlessly into his weakened powers. There was far too much damage for him to cure in his current state, but digging deep into his reserves, he was able to stabilize the worst of Dean's injuries. Until his grace recharged, or Jack recovered, his friend would need a hospital as soon as possible.

"Is he alive?" There was a depth of concern in Rowena's question that made Cas wonder if the witch could be an ally. After all, he could barely stand himself and he would need someone to help him get Dean to the medical care he so desperately needed. Leaving Dean's side, he stepped over to the table. Sam's body was shocking. The bloody trauma to his chest made it clear that there was no saving him. Sam was gone and a wave of sorrow washed over Cas driving the strength from his legs.

"For goodness' sake, sit down Castiel, before you fall down." Rowena didn't stop what she was doing, but she pointed her chin at a nearby chair with a firm expression. He shook his head.

"No, we have to get Dean to the hospital," he insisted even as his vision blurred, and he had to grip the edge of the table to avoid losing his balance.

"Rest for a minute. You'll be no good to Dean or anyone if you drop," she scolded. Falling into the assigned seat, Cas wearily watched as the witch prepared some sort of concoction. First, she crushed several herbs in the brass bowl. The pungent but not unpleasant scent mingling with the smell of Sam's blood from the floor and the faint ozone lingering from the angel violence that had taken place in the room. Then Rowena carefully unstopped a small vial, first pouring some into the bowl with a few whispered words and then anointing Sam's forehead with a drop or two. Cas could smell both chamomile and juniper from the oil.

"What are you doing?" he ultimately asked, his curiosity temporarily blocking his grief.

"It's a stasis spell," the witch answered, carefully sprinkling the contents of her bowl along Sam's body. The crushed leaves shimmered as they landed then transformed into an almost invisible barrier that spread and merged, wrapping itself around Sam like a second skin. "I added a few extra touches for protection," she continued, a note of pride in her tone, "so he should be safe as houses."

Cas sighed and rubbed his chest through his blood-soaked shirt. When Michael had surprised him, he had been slowly beginning to heal from Lucifer's vicious slash. The wound had gone clear to the bone and had he not been an angel, the blood loss alone would likely have killed him. The archangel had seen the flow of his grace escaping from the laceration and, knocking his hands aside, had inhaled the holy essence. Sam had come to his defence, but Michael had already been recharged from the stolen sustenance. The evidence of that ill-fated effort was laid out in front of him. Sam was dead, Dean was grievously injured, and Jack was out of commission.