Chapter 13

Memphis, Tennessee

Garth heard the crunching and crackling as the men walked over the glass fragments in the other offices and labs. They seemed to be getting nearer, but he couldn't tell for sure. An occasional loud crash, or the sounds of glass and furniture smashing, came from random directions, making him wonder how many there were.

His heart leapt into his throat when he heard the door to the office open, and a voice that sounded almost next to him.

"What are we supposed to do with the records?"

"Burn them all."

The second voice was deeper and closer, its owner's steps audible over the carpet as he walked to the filing cabinets. There was the rattling thunk of a drawer being pulled out, the rustle and flapping of files being extracted and scattered over the floor.

Garth closed his eyes and breathed silently through his mouth, trying to become invisible, unnoticeable, not there.

"You know he was talking about this war business in Kansas."

"Yeah? Thought we were staying out of it?" Another thud of thrown files hitting the carpet.

"Well, we were, but now it seems like the demons could be winning."

"What difference does that make? They can't touch us."

There was a new crunch at the doorway.

"No, but they can destroy our food source, you imbecile." A third voice; clipped and articulate. "That's all Lucifer ever talked about—wiping out humanity."

Garth's eyes flew open as he recognised that voice from the many televised interviews.

"Uh—oh, yeah."

The smooth tenor turned to a snarl. "Don't make me bib you too, Ryan."

"Sorry, Dick. Just wondering when we can get back to the docilisation process?"

"Patience. We've come a long way in a short time and I'm not having my entire inventory wiped out by those whining, arrogant hollow-earthers. "

Another crash, much louder and the sound of metal drawers falling out.

"Uh…hollow-earthers?"

"Demons, you fucking idiot." Roman's voice cracked. "Hurry up and get all these open."

"What about the hunters? How do we find the ones who set this up?" the other Leviathan asked, his tone meek.

"Oh, I know exactly who set this up. Only one human had access to the marker code. He's dead. We'll take care of the others soon enough. They're back to square one with their efforts to produce the virus, while our vaccine is progressing. We won't have a problem getting ahead of them this time."

Garth closed his fingers around the vial in his pocket gently. He hoped it would make a lie of Roman's words.

"And Kansas?"

"We'll give the angels another couple of days, see if they can make progress on their own," Roman said. "I don't think they will, so we'll roll in and do it for them. As soon as you're done here, you can call in Wisconsin team and meet at the border."

Three more crashes in quick succession, accompanied by grunts. That had to be every cabinet in the room.

"Well, get started. I want the whole building burned to the ground by sun-up," Roman said, his voice receding strangely.

Walking away, Garth realised after a second. Leaving. There was an odd sound, a liquid kind of sound as if the Levis were shooting water pistols at each other. The smell of butane hit him a second later. Then a scratching noise.

The lighter fluid went up with a solid whoomf, pulling the air in. Garth heard them crunching their way out of the lab, and he tried to keep his breathing shallow as the heat intensified in the room. He needed to give them enough time to get out of the building. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to.

When he wriggled out from under the desk and looked around, the whole office was on fire and the labs around it as well. He looked down the way he'd come in, but it was a solid wall of flame. The other corridor seemed a little better but he couldn't afford to be trapped in here.

C'mon, think, Garth, think. Fire escape. There has to be a way out. He went to the window, looking down through it. Yes, there it was. He'd only have a second or two to get out once he'd opened the window, he knew. The extra air coming in would turn the blaze into an inferno. On the count of three.

One, two...he slammed the window up and dove out, rolling flat as he hit the metal landing, keeping his head down as long flames shot out over him. He winced as he felt his knee start stinging and hobbled down the steps, forgetting the pain and increasing his speed when he noticed the fire spreading below him.

Hutchinson, Kansas

The Impala swerved and sashayed from one side of the road to the other, Dean trying to avoid the wrecks, holes and bodies that littered the road in toward the town. The devastation of the countryside had been shocking when he'd crossed into Kansas, but as he got closer to Hutchinson, the destruction of the towns, each getting worse as he passed through or around them, was a new blow, overwhelming his senses and wrenching at his nerves.

When he saw the poles, he'd stopped, looking at the body hanging from it for a long time. There hadn't been much left, the skeleton had been broken into pieces, held together by tendons and what shreds of skin remained. The muscle and fat had gone completely. He let the image burn into his mind, needing fury to keep going. He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep again.

The smoke was as thick as fog here, shrouding the broken buildings and making ghosts of the dead trees that lined the road. To his left, beyond the rubble and wrecks, he could see a faint red tinge to the lower layers. He looked to his right and saw a slightly brighter area. He turned the car onto the next right and wiped the sweat from his face, trying to breathe shallowly enough to cut the tastes and smells, but deeply enough to steady himself.

He shook his head slightly as he remembered Carthage, and the foreboding he'd felt entering that town while the devil had been doing his work there. It had looked normal compared to this.

The light continued to brighten along the road, and he realised after a mile that he wasn't swerving from side to side anymore. The wrecks were still there, but they'd been cleared to the sides, leaving an open thoroughfare that he could drive through. Demons loved chaos, he thought dryly, and the angels loved order.

It was almost dusk and the light was much brighter now; a loom throwing the next shallow hill into a silhouette. He accelerated up the incline then slowed when he saw the enormous field at the bottom of the hill's descent: grey and barren but cleared of debris, and filled with movement, the figures walking and running this way and that all lit up with their own radiance.

Angels. He'd found the base camp of Heaven.

Despite the size of the camp field, he saw the Camaro easily enough. It was the only car in the whole area and he pulled up next to it and turned off the Impala's engine, getting out and looking around. He couldn't see Sam or Trish anywhere, but in this section, tents and shelters had been erected, and he thought he'd have to go looking in them first.

Leaning back into the car, he picked up the spear from the passenger seat, then closed and locked the doors.

"Dean?"

He turned around, and saw Tricia coming out of a tent a few yards away. She looked tired and dirty, rough field dressings on her arms.

"Trish, what's going on?" He looked down at her, frowning as he took the black mottled bruising that covered one side of her neck. "Are you fighting?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it was fight or be killed. The demons have been attacking daily."

"Where's Sam?"

"He's been talking to Michael and some of the Fallen." She put her hand on his arm, turning him. "I'll take you; it's too hard to describe places here."

Dean walked with her, looking around at the encampment. "Are there many humans here?"

She shook her head. "No, and we don't tell them we're human. They think we're nephilim."

"Why?" He could make some guesses about it, but he wanted to be sure. Cas had said more than once that Lucifer's followers hadn't all fallen with him.

"Because there are still some angels who believe humanity is a curse, and it's just safer this way," Tricia said, her expression souring.

It was clear that her entire view of angels had been overturned on closer acquaintance. He wished he could've given her a head's up. He wondered why Sam hadn't.

"Baraquiel introduced us as nephilim. Michael hasn't let on, for whatever reasons he has."

"What about Cas? Have you seen him?"

"No. He was captured, in the first attack apparently." She turned to look at him apologetically. "Sam knows more than I do."

"Is he...how is he? Did he tell you why he decided to come here?" Dean slowed as he turned to look at her. The question had been bugging him the whole drive. He wanted an answer.

She shook her head again, her lips compressed. "He hasn't said anything in days, at least, not to me."

He caught the pain in her voice and looked down at her. "Why did you stay?"

Her breath caught in a half-sob, half-laugh. "I can't leave."

Sam was standing with several angels, his face and arms covered in grime, a livid red gash standing out on his cheek. Tricia slowed as they approached the group, and Dean nodded to her as she dropped back, turning and going back the way they'd come, her back and shoulders stiff with tension.

"Sam." He was glad to see that he was alive, upright.

"Dean...how the hell?" Sam strode over, looking over him, his brow creased. "What are you doing here?"

Looking into Sam's eyes, he could see that his brother was himself, but harder, colder. "The question is, what are you doing here? I thought you decided this was a dumb idea."

"I changed my mind."

The defensiveness in Sam's tone, the hint of unease behind his eyes told Dean that it hadn't been that simple. Something had changed, alright, but it had been pushed onto Sam, it hadn't risen from inside him.

"I got a visit from Jesse." He lifted the wrapped spear and handed it to Sam. "He brought this."

"What is it?" Sam took the bundle and unwrapped the cloth. "A spear?"

"The Spear." Michael's voice came from behind them and they turned to face the archangel as he strode up to them. His eyes were fixed on the small iron head of the spear. "Where did you get this?"

"A friend thought it might come in handy." Dean looked at Michael thoughtfully. The look in the archangel's extraordinary blue eyes was hard to define, but he thought it came fairly close to envy.

Sam fitted the two ends together, hearing the muted click from within the haft as the iron rod locked into the socket, lifting it to feel the balance. "It's kind of lightweight for Lucifer, don't you think?"

"You're a fool." Michael snapped. "The Spear is the only thing that can kill the devil."

Dean nodded, reluctantly in agreement. "It's the spear that killed Christ, according to both Jesse and Ellie" He stared at the broken tip. "It has God's blood on the head. If you can shove it into Lucifer's heart...he'll die—for good. And we can all go home."

Sam raised one brow, a slow smile curving his mouth, his eyes like chill green glass. "Then I'm glad you made it here. Can I just go into Hell and kill him?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"The Spear will protect the bearer from harm," Michael said. "But I don't think I'd trust a two thousand year old legend against the horde of Hell. And if you lost it...if they gained it, we could kiss our asses goodbye right now."

He looked at Sam intently. "When the Princes return, we'll have them all together, and we'll attack. You'll do better with an army at your back than you will alone."

Dean's eyes narrowed. He wasn't so sure about that. Michael seemed too relaxed, too affable, for a commander who was losing the war.

"You have a bit of time to catch up on events, Sam. The horn will sound when we're ready." The archangel pivoted on his heel, returning to the two angels standing a few yards away.

Dean waited until all three had walked out of earshot, then asked, "Sam, what happened?"

Sam rubbed his temple, his expression changing from certain to baffled. "I'm not sure. I was talking to Adam, and then I woke up on the floor of the cleaning room, and I couldn't remember what I'd said or how long I'd been there. I couldn't remember much at all, now that I think about it." His brow furrowed and after a moment he shook his head.

"When I woke up, I felt...I knew that I couldn't let Lucifer get away with what he'd been doing, what he'd done. The feeling, the sense of it, was strong, almost obsessive."

He looked past Dean, toward the smoke that enclosed the camp. "I was angry," he admitted. "Angry like I haven't been for a long time. I couldn't remember how I'd felt about Trish, before."

Dean saw that had hit his little brother the hardest. That it had affected his feelings. That it had possibly killed them.

Sam cleared his throat. "When we got here, it didn't feel so strong, it felt like maybe I'd...I don't know, overreacted? But I try to leave, it gets strong again. I can't control it. It seems to be controlling me if anything, but there's nothing I can do to change that."

"You were talking to Adam...about what?" Dean frowned. It didn't seem like much of a catalyst for what Sam was talking about.

They walked back toward the Impala slowly. "I don't remember."

Dean turned his head to look at him when Sam slowed down, almost stumbling. "Must have been something. Did you ask him about his time with Michael?"

"I don't think so."

"Or his memories?" Dean pressed, watching Sam's expression change. "Or your memories?"

Sam stopped, suddenly pressing his hand hard against the side of his head.

Dean stopped too and watched him worriedly. "What is it, Sam?"

"Adam." Sam doubled over, dropping to one knee, one hand resting on the ground the other lifting fast to press against his right eye. "He told me he remembered...he remembered …"

Beside him, Dean knelt, looking at the spasms of pain cross his brother's face, feeling the tension in Sam's shoulder as he gripped it. "Remembered what?"

Sam convulsed, a thin stream of bile ejecting from his throat. "I can't. I can't remember. If I try...it's like acid in my mind."

"Okay, it's okay, Sam," Dean said, taking Sam's arm and helping him to his feet. "Let it go, don't think about it—and don't lose that freakin' spear, okay? Head back to your tent, find Tricia. I need to talk to Michael for a sec."

Whatever had happened, however it had happened, Adam had been involved. He thought back over the times he'd been with his half-brother, what they'd talked about, how the younger man had seemed. He remembered seeing a blankness a couple of times in the back of Adam's eyes, writing it off as a side-effect of being Michael's vessel for so long. Maybe it wasn't.

He waited until Sam had started walking, then turned around. Michael was walking back toward him.

Cascadia, Oregon

Ellie woke with a start when Talya touched her shoulder. She blinked in disorientation, cold and very stiff, the fire dead in the hearth, the room icy.

"Did you sleep here all night, Ellie?" Talya asked. The nephilim felt her hands, shaking her head. "Come, get up. We have to get you warm."

Ellie stood, leaning against the chair. The memories of last night, what she'd found, what she feared, came flooding back as she straightened.

"Talya...what time is it? Is everyone else up? I need to speak to Frank and Cassie as well."

"It's just past seven. They're in the kitchen."

They walked along the hallway and turned into the warm kitchen, the wood-fired range lit and the room redolent with the scents of coffee and bacon and toast. Ellie sat down at the table, and Talya went to get a plate for her. Frank took one look at her and rose, going to the cupboard to get a mug and filling it from the coffee pot. He walked back to the table and set it beside her, then returned to his chair.

"You like hell warmed over, Ellie," Frank said. "What's going on?"

Ellie picked up the mug, warming her hands on the sides. "I found the ritual. Last night."

"That's good, isn't it?" Cassie said, turning to check the reactions of Frank and Talya. "Now you can find the soul? Work out how to prevent it being used?"

Frank frowned as he kept his gaze on Ellie's face. "What's wrong?"

"I think it might be my baby." She put her hand over the bulge of her stomach. "The soul Lucifer needs."

There was silence in the room. Talya brought a plate of scrambled eggs to the table, setting it down next to Ellie. "You don't know that for sure."

"No, not for sure," Ellie admitted. "I need you all to read the ritual, tell me what you make of it."

"Why would you think it was your baby?" Cassie asked. "Yours and Dean's?"

"Dean is descended from two of the needed angelic lines," Ellie said. "Araquiel on the Winchester side, and Azazel, in the Campbell family. I don't know if I'm descended from Amaros, the third required line, somewhere in my parent's genealogy."

She shook her head. "I'll explain the rest when you've all read it. I don't want to prejudice your thoughts beforehand."

"That's pretty vague." Frank glanced at Talya. "Can we find out about this Watcher, about his descendents?"

"I don't know how," Talya said. "No one has seen Amaros for over a thousand years. He was hunted by the Others and he disappeared, somewhere in Europe. He could be dead or he could have been in hiding."

Ellie added, "And everyone who might be able to tell us is in Kansas now."

Cassie cleared her throat. "So far it's just a possibility, right?" Her gaze flicked from Ellie to Talya to Frank. "So what we need to do is make sure no one can get in here. Double everything maybe and sit tight?"

Ellie nodded. "Yes."

"Then tell us what to do," Cassie said, getting to her feet and glaring at Frank. "And we'll get started."

They laid new iron and salt lines inside the existing ones, covered the walls with wards and sigils and guards, demon traps and demon scares, and Enochian sigils to hide them from any angel's eyes.

"The archdemons are actually angels: fallen angels," Ellie told Cassie as they walked together, Cassie carrying a ladder, and Ellie carrying the brushes and small bucket of thawed goat's blood.

"Lucifer tortured them for a long time. There isn't a lot known about them now. Their names, some of their history before they fell. A little about their powers. None of the angels really know how they were corrupted so deeply. Baal is said to be the oldest. The most powerful and the most treacherous."

"How is it that anyone knows anything about these things?" Cassie asked, stopping as they reached the front door and setting up the ladder.

"People were always trying to gain more knowledge," Ellie said, holding the ladder steady while Cassie climbed up. "Magicians, sorcerers, witches, most were conjuring and binding demons in order to learn things, to find out things that couldn't be discovered any other way. Some of the Watchers taught humanity about spells and how to find out the more esoteric knowledge as well."

"What symbol needs to go here?" Cassie asked, looking down. Ellie passed her the sheet of paper with the Ward of Hiding on it, and the bucket and brush. "And this is angel proofing as well as demon?"

"Yeah." Ellie looked out through the sidelights at the quiet clearing, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "These symbols, these wards and sigils, will hide the house entirely from any angel's sight."

"Good." Cassie finished the last letter and leaned back, nodding as she verified its accuracy against the drawn copy in her hand. "Done."

Frank and Talya laid out the guns and ammunition along the table in the living room. At either end, four small bottles of holy oil stood. Last resort, Ellie thought. If the house was breached, she could retreat to the panic room and light a circle around herself. A flash of memory came back, the dazzling ice walls of the cage and the burning sensation she'd had as she tried to make a doorway for Michael to walk out. Had that meant anything? What had Cas said about the strength of angel blood and how the oil showed it?

Frank's phone buzzed. "Yeah."

"Trent, slow down. Send it now. I'm with Ellie and Talya and we'll look straight away." He closed the phone.

"Trent, Garth and Katherine have just finished with the lab. They've got something we need to hear so he's sending now."

"Did they find a sample?" Ellie followed him down the hall.

"Yeah, apparently one survived."

"Do you have a new lab for them to go to, Frank?" Cassie asked from behind them.

"Found one in Boston. It's clean and it's extremely discreet. Never had a defence contract, the founders very ethical. Roman won't find it." Frank turned into the room and hurried to his desk. He sat down in front of the monitor, typing in commands to reroute the incoming data through a different gateway.

The first file was video, and they looked at Garth's recording of the lab, the destruction that filled it, his retrieval of the sample from the drawer. The recording ended abruptly as he'd entered an office.

The second file was audio and Frank adjusted the levels until they could hear it clearly.

"What are we supposed to do with the records?"

"Burn them all."

"You know he was talking about this war business in Kansas."

"Yeah? Thought we were staying out of it?"

"Well we were, but now it seems like the demons could be winning."

"What difference does that make? They can't touch us."

"No, but they can destroy our food source, you imbecile. That's all Lucifer ever talked about—wiping out humanity."

"Uh—oh, yeah."

"Don't make me bib you too, Ryan."

"Sorry, Dick. Just wondering when we can get back to the docilisation process?"

"Patience. We've come a long way in a short time and I'm not having my entire inventory wiped out by those whining, arrogant hollow-earthers. "

"Uh…hollow-earthers?"

"Demons, you fucking idiot. Hurry up and get all these open."

"What about the hunters? How do we find the ones who set this up?"

"Oh, I know exactly who set this up. Only one human had access to the marker code. He's dead. We'll take care of the others soon enough. They're back to square one with their efforts to produce the virus, while our vaccine is progressing. We won't have a problem getting ahead of them this time."

"And Kansas?"

"We'll give the angels another couple of days, see if they can make progress on their own. I don't think they will, so we'll roll in and do it for them. As soon as you're done here, you can call in Wisconsin team and meet at the border."

"Well, get started. I want the whole building burned to the ground by sun-up"

Frank stopped the file and looked at Ellie. "Interesting."

She looked at him, brows raised. "And how."

Cassie looked at them. "Does that mean the Leviathans are going to help Heaven?"

"Sure sounded like it." Frank shook his head.

"I don't understand."

"I think Dick's worried that if Hell wins, there won't be any humans left around to eat." Ellie said quietly. "He's protecting his investment."

"How do we let them know?" Talya looked at Ellie, then Frank.

Frank shook his head. "I don't know."

He dialled Trent's number. "Yeah, we got them. Thanks, good job."

"Yeah, no idea of how that's going to play out. Listen, this is the new lab—8 Orchard Road, Salisbury Road. Take the sample there and call when you get there. Tell them I'll send full instructions. Yeah, take every precaution."

He closed the phone. "Well, we're in lockdown. Trent's on his way. We can't get any of the intel to anyone who needs it. That about sum things up?"

"Yeah."

The front door opened, and both Ellie and Frank had their guns in their hands before they heard it being closed.

Frank rose from his chair and moved silently to the wall beside the door, Ellie crossing behind him to take position at a fifty degree angle from his position. She waved sharply to Cassie and Talya to move behind Frank and released the safety on the SIG.

"Anyone here?" The voice echoed slightly in the wide hallway and Ellie's gaze went to Frank, one eyebrow lifted.

Adam came around the corner of the doorway and stopped, looking at them.

Hutchinson, Kansas

"What did you do to Adam?" Dean strode forward to meet the archangel.

"I don't know what you mean, Dean." Michael watched Sam walking away.

"You did something to him, Michael." Dean gestured behind him to his brother. "Back in Oregon, he messed with Sam's head somehow."

"That's impossible. I didn't do anything to him. I kept him out of nearly everything."

Dean's hands clenched into fists as he tried to think of a way to get the archangel to just tell them what had happened to Adam.

The other two angels came up behind Michael. Both were Fallen, he realised, the lines and faint marks of time on their faces the only thing giving them away as mortal.

Michael looked around. "Dean, you should meet this Watcher, he founded the line that you're a part of. Araquiel, meet Dean Winchester."

The angel was tall and very broad-shouldered, with long, dark brown hair held back from his face by a plain gold cirque. He had a strong face; high, wide cheekbones, aquiline nose and deep green eyes, almost the same chin as John Winchester. Dean nodded to him, unsure of the protocol required for meeting your ancestors and still dubious about what Michael said about Adam.

Araquiel held out his hand, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "I've wanted to meet you for some time, Dean, to thank you for saving my son."

Dean glanced from the Watcher to Michael as he took the offered hand. "I did?"

"Travis, the nephilim who was a Seal. You and your brother and your friend, the redhead, rescued him," Michael prompted.

"Oh. Yeah." He remembered the silent little boy, his mother, Rachel. "Is he, uh, okay?"

"He turned eleven two months ago. Rachel and I—we're grateful." The Watcher released his hand.

"No problem. Ellie was more responsible for their safety than we were."

"Yes, Eleanor," Michael said. "I'd wondered who she reminded me of, and then our brother turned up here."

The other angel stepped out from behind Araquiel, and Dean stared at him. Also tall and broad shouldered, the Watcher's hair was copper-bright and the green eyes were flecked with gold and rimmed in blue. The shade of green was darker, the colour surrounding the irises more of a grey-blue than midnight, but close enough to Ellie's eyes.

"Amaros," the Watcher said, offering his hand to Dean.

Dean shook it as the bits and pieces of information he had fell into place one by one, and a chill reached up his spine when he saw the answer in its entirety.

"I believe she's descended from his line," Michael said, shaking his head. "I knew she looked familiar, but I hadn't seen Amaros in over a thousand years."

Fury boiled through him, a dark tide that burned through his blood vessels and tightened every muscle. "The archdemons are looking for Ellie, right? For soul of our child—a child descended from the three lines of the Watchers that are compatible with Lucifer?"

Michael nodded, his expression drawn. "Yes. I think they are."

"You fucking sonofabitch," Dean spat, hands curled into fists to prevent himself from punching the angel. "You gotta get me back; I have to get back there right now!"

He couldn't believe he'd left her alone. They were hunting her, Adam had fucked over Sam and she was there unprotected. His muscles were shaking in response to the adrenalin that flooded them, blood pressure rising and pounding in his skull as he repressed every thought of what could be happening sixteen hundred miles from where he now stood.

"This is a war, Dean. Even if I could leave, I wouldn't. My army needs its commander." Michael shook his head. "I can't spare a single warrior right now. Our numbers are reduced and every sword—every one—is needed. I'm sorry, Dean, but I can't lessen our numbers, even for you, or even for her."

Dean recognised the implacability of the archangel's decision. He was wasting his time with him. He started walking toward the Impala, extending his stride as he saw Sam and Tricia standing close to her.

Michael and Amaros followed, the angels easily keeping pace. "Dean—"

"Where the hell is Cas?" Dean walked on, resisting the impulse to run. Somewhere, a part of his brain was recalculating routes and wondering if he could find an airport outside the state and fly. But even with the saving in drive time, he'd be vulnerable without the weapons and gear he had in the car.

"Castiel is in Hell. He was captured soon after the gate opened and we haven't been able to see him or find him since."

"Goddamn you, goddamn you, Michael." Dean glared at him, rage and fear compounded by the helplessness he felt, even as he reviewed and revised the time and distance that lay between him and the house. His best case scenario was a two day drive back to Oregon, assuming he could get out of Kansas as quickly as he'd come in. "Did you know about this? Did you know they were looking for her?"

"No. I didn't, Dean, and that is the truth. Do you think we wanted to give Lucifer any possible chance of returning to this plane in his full power?" Michael returned his gaze steadily. "Castiel told me that she had been investigating the ensouling ritual; he asked me if I knew about it—but the only thing I knew was what he himself knew…that no angel would ever perform such an abomination, that it was myth or legend from Lucifer's Falling, a rumour put out by a mad human mage that resurrecting the dragon was possible."

They reached the car, and the archangel laid his hand on the hood. "I can do some things for you, Dean."

Michael looked down and the car lit up suddenly, hundreds of archaic and complex designs gleaming up from deep within the metal and then fading away.

"No demon or angel will see you in this now. But that's all I can do."

"If they find her and do the ritual, Michael, everything will be lost. Cas said the Host isn't strong enough now to resist them."

Sam crossed to them, sweat still beading his brow and his skin pale, Tricia following.

"I know, Dean." Michael glanced at the spear in Sam's hand. "But at least we have a failsafe. Now we can kill Lucifer, Sam and I, and make sure he stays dead."

Dean looked at Sam, his face hard and impassive. "I've got to go. Twist and Adam are the only hunters with Ellie."

Sam's eyes widened at the implications, his expression twisting as he realised he wasn't going to be able to help. Dean saw the tendons standing out like wires in his brother's neck and stepped close, hugging Sam tightly. Finally, it had come down to a choice and he knew the one he had to make.

"It's okay, Sam, I understand. There's nothing you could to do to help me anyway. Just kill the fucking devil."

Sam's arms tightened around him for a moment, then Dean stepped back, his gaze returning to Michael.

"If I don't make it in time, then you fail too, Michael. Remember that."

The archangel watched him as he got into the car and started the engine. The rear wheels spun for a moment in the ash and gravel, then gripped and the black car shot over the field and back onto the road.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. He'd been running near empty when he'd gotten here. As soon as he got out of Kansas, he needed to find coffee and food. Nothing could induce to sleep or rest, but he'd need all the help he could find.