"What do you mean I can't come?"

"I mean we've only got two Tasers, you're still injured, and you're not coming!" Dean ticked the reasons off on his fingers before using a hand on my shoulder to push me to sit on the motel bed. I toppled back, raising my other hand to grip at the shoulder he'd pushed me with. The stitches had come out just last week. One of the biggest drawbacks to being a prangeni is just how long it takes to heal from any kind of injury. One month down the line and my shoulder was still causing problems for me.

I glared at him as I sat back up, no longer arguing but still angry at being left behind. "Fine. Just be careful. Remember you only get one shot with those Tasers, but they're amped up to a hundred thousand volts, so you only need to catch him and that rawhead will be fried extra friggin' crispy. And remember that the lore said that they live at the bottom of rivers, this cellar it's hiding out in is likely to be damp; water and electricity are a bad mix."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be careful." Sam grabbed the weapons duffel and hurried out the door. Two more children had been taken and we were in a hurry to get to the rawhead before he had a chance to eat them.

"Maybe you should be wearing wellies!" I shouted out the door after my brothers as the Impala pulled out of the motel parking lot.

We'd been hunting this rawhead for about a week; it had been difficult to narrow down what exactly we were dealing with. We'd come to town after reports had started making the papers of children going missing. Unfortunately there are plenty of things that take children, for various reasons. Including humans, for reasons of being sick in the head.

We'd finally narrowed it down to a creature, a location and a kill method and managed to get our hands on the Tasers and amp them up far beyond the legal limit when a call had come in on the police scanner saying that two more children, a brother and sister, had disappeared on their way home from school.

There wasn't anything more I could do at this stage, except sit and worry. And frankly, I'd gotten tired of sitting at home and worrying about my brothers years ago. I try to ignore the worry; if I can't be there to help it's really much more productive to take a nice relaxing shower and have some time to unwind. We'd be caught up in another case soon enough.

I gathered my wash kit and a towel, heading to the bathroom, which in this particular motel wasn't completely awful, always a plus. The water pressure left something to be desired, but the water was warm, and the bathroom had been clean when we'd arrived. Though of course, after a week of sharing it with my two brothers it could definitely do with cleaning again. I took my time with my ablutions, carefully washing my shoulder without getting soap in the wound. It looked like it had scabbed over, but sod's law said that if there was a way to get soap in it, then I would. I dried off and changed into fresh underwear and one of Sam's old t-shirts, noting that we needed to do laundry soon, and then I tucked myself into one of the beds and grabbed the remote control. I might finally get to see the end of Back to the Future before my brothers returned.

I seemed to be cursed with that film, every time I tried to watch it something would interrupt. I've seen McFly go to the past several times, but I've never actually seen him go back to the future. I was dosing off to McFly's mother flirting with him when my phone rang. I rolled my eyes, hitting mute as I answered it.

"Ali, it's Dean, he's hurt." Sam's voice was shaking, slightly rushed and panicking.

"Okay, Sammy, calm down." I was instantly the older sister, calm and reliable in a crisis as I tried to calm my brother and get the whole story out of him. "Take a few deep breathes and tell me what happened, okay?"

I put the phone on speaker, dropping it on the bed while I pulled jeans and a top on and rubbing the towel I was still wearing on my head over my hair to dry it a bit more.

"We got to the house, went down to the cellar, found the two kids in a cupboard. They were fine so I went to get them out of there. The rawhead grabbed at my ankle as we were climbing the stairs, Dean shot at it but missed. It let me go, so I threw my Taser to Dean and got the kids outside. When I went back in the rawhead was a puddle of goo and Dean was lying unconscious in a puddle of water."

I grabbed a jacket, my bag and keys, picket up the phone, taking it off speaker and holding it to my ear as I left the motel room.

"So, you took him and the kids to a hospital. Which one, I'll meet you there." I started jogging. I may not be fast, but I can cover long distances when I need to. Dad made me practice, he was trying to make me faster, but eventually the goal shifted when it became clear that I'm just plain slow.

"St Mary's, it was closer."

"Okay, give me half an hour. And Sam, what name is he under?"

"Uh, Burkovitz. I need to talk to the cops, Ali. I'll see you soon."

We hung up and I dropped the phone into my bag, stuffing the jacket in there too and pulling it so I held it in my arms, rather than allowing it to bump along by my side. St Mary's was about three and a half miles from the motel; if I hurried I could do that in half an hour.

Thirty three minutes later I huffed and puffed my way up to the reception desk and asked for Burkovitz. It didn't take me long to get my breath back and soon I was hurrying along the passage and climbing the stairs, rather than waiting for the lift.

I found Sam sitting on a hard plastic chair in the hallway. "Sam! What's happening? Is he okay?"

Sam looked up, before rising to his feet and engulfing me in a hug. "The doctors are seeing him now. We just have to wait."

We waited a long time in that hallway. Medical staff bustled up and down, and police occasionally wanted to talk to Sam. He gave them the same story every time; that he and Dean had been taking a shortcut through the neighbourhood with the windows rolled down, they'd heard screaming and found the kids in the basement.

Hours passed and the ball of worry that I'd so successfully pushed away when the boys left me in the motel room twisted itself tighter and tighter inside my chest. The pain echoing all around us would normally have been driving me insane, but now it was barely a background hum. I wasn't sure if my nausea was caused by Deathcries or by the worry which seemed to grow with every minute that passed without news.

Dean was my big brother, the one who'd taken care of me after Dad saved me from my father, the one whom Sam and I had relied on for, well... everything. We couldn't lose him, we couldn't.

Finally, a doctor walking down the corridor caught Sam's attention and he rose to greet the man.

"Hey, Doc. Is he…"

"He's resting." The doctor assured Sam as I pulled myself out of the chair I'd occupied for the past four hours and stood at Sam's side.

The doctor glanced at me, clearing his throat and Sam quickly introduced me as his sister and asked him to continue. "The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart...it's damaged."

"How damaged?"

"We've done all we can." The doctor told us quietly. "We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But, I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month."

"No, no. There's, there's...gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment." Sam's hand gripped mine, shaking slightly.

"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry." The doctor shook his head kindly and turned to leave.

"Where is he, Sam?" I was taking deep breaths, keeping the panic under control. It was Dean, he'd be okay; Dean always was.

Sam led the way down the passage pulling me wordlessly into one of the rooms.

Dean was lying in the hospital bed, his skin paler than normal and with dark circles under his eyes. He was flicking through the channels on the TV.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible." Dean voice was weak, and his focus stayed on the TV, rather than looking at us.

Sam shook his head, sighing at Dean's classic 'avoid things involving feelings', "I talked to your doctor."

"That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down." I rounded the bed, pulled the remote from Dean's hand and switched the TV off, finally getting my brother's attention.

"Yeah. All right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me." His voice sounded resigned, and I frowned at him as he continued to avoid eye contact with me.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, drawing Dean's attention to him. "We're not gonna leave you here."

"Hey, you better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your asses." Dean pointed at each of us and I snorted slightly, reaching out to stroke his hair. I love running my hands through his hair; it's very soft, but he only lets me do it when he's feeling especially sorry for himself.

"I don't think that's funny." Sam told him.

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny." Dean pointed at me, as if to indicate that I'd laughed, so it must be funny.

There was a long silence, during which I kept stroking Dean's hair until Sam looked down, trying to hide his tears and Dean sighed. "Look, Sammy, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

"Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options."

"What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it."

"Watch me." Sam stalked out of the room and Dean and I watched him go.

"You know, you're kind of a pessimist."

Dean didn't answer, just relaxed into the bed and closed his eyes. I settled myself on the edge of his bed, still stroking his hair and quietly singing Dust in the Wind by Kansas.

Dean drifted off to sleep and a nurse who'd come to check on him told me off for being on the bed. She fetched me a chair instead and the hours passed by. I watched my brother's chest rise and fall with his breaths, studied the sprinkling of freckles across his nose which now stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and the way his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks.

As the painkillers they'd given him started to wear off I took over, allowing him to rest comfortably and not feel the ache all over his body. His heart wasn't the only organ that had been damaged by the electrocution; it was just the one that would kill him first.

I meditated for a while, difficult though it was to ignore the hustle and bustle of the hospital around us, complete with the pain that only I and the people suffering from it could sense. I tried to reach down inside myself to the calm place where my little store of magic is kept, hoping I could maybe repair some of the damage. I couldn't reach the calm place; my heart was too much in turmoil.

I curled up in that hard plastic chair, clinging to my dying brother's hand and wept silently. What use was healing magic if I couldn't use it when it really mattered? What was the point of studying all this stuff if none of it could save him? What use was I if all I could do for my brother was keep him comfortable while he died?


The next day Sam was back. The nurses hadn't liked me staying overnight at Dean's bedside, but I'd argued that I wasn't bothering anyone, nor getting in their way, and that the fight they'd have to remove me and keep me out would disturb far more patients than if they just let me sit there quietly. They'd reluctantly agreed, but I'd had the same argument with the new nurses every time the shift changed.

Sam was finally able to persuade me to go to the bathroom, and down to the café, promising that he would stay with Dean while I did. I felt better when I returned and I sat on Sam's knee, reaching out for Dean's hand again. They'd given him more pain medication while I was away and he was sleeping peacefully, so I curled into Sam's shoulder and we whispered quietly.

"I take it you've been up all night looking for a fix. You look awful." He did; the bags under his eyes were almost as bad as Dean's.

"Yeah. Nothing yet, but I brought you some reading material, if you wanted to help." He pulled a couple of leather-bound books from his laptop bag, placing them on the bedside table.

"Are those spell books?" I sat straight, glancing at my brother in suspicion.

He gave me a mild bitchface in return. "You really thought you could hide it? We know you've been dabbling, and we know you're being careful, which is the only reason Dean hasn't torn you a new one over it."

I dropped my eyes, "You knew?"

"Yeah, we figured it out after the deal with all those bugs. I don't know what you did, but it worked. Do you know any healing spells?"

There was so much hope, in his voice and his eyes and I hated to crush it. "I've been trying all night." I told him, shaking my head and watching as the light of hope in his eyes went out.

"Well, maybe there'll be something in one of these." He gestured at the two books on the nightstand. "I picked them up at a second hand bookstore. The owner was glad to be rid of them, kept muttering about satanic rubbish and Halloween pranks, and fiddling with the cross around her neck."

I snorted and slipped from Sam's lap to take a seat on the floor with the first of the books in my lap. It was a grimoire, written in French and mainly focusing on household spells. Things to remove mildew, prevent old rooves from leaking, keep fires burning nicely while you were out and stop the food from burning. They were minor good luck charms more than anything, but it was all handwritten and I had to go through every page to make sure I didn't miss anything. There were a few healing spells, things for headaches and snotty noses, but nothing on the scale that we were looking for and a few hours later I sighed as I closed the book, handing it back to Sam, who'd been taping away on his laptop the whole time.

"Nothing in there." He took it from me and leafed through a few pages.

"Are you sure? It looked like the real deal."

"It is." I told him, standing and stretching. "It's real magic, nothing bad in there either; it's just that it's all small fry, nothing useful to us." I sighed and took Dean's hand, drawing out his pain as the meds had started to wear off.

Dean stirred slightly, the pattern of his breathing changed and he woke, though his eyes stayed shut, and Sam didn't notice.

"Alright." Sam sighed, shutting his laptop and packing it away before rising from his chair and yawning. "I'll keep looking. I take it you're staying here again tonight?"

I nodded, accepted Sam's small hug and watched him leave.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep." Dean's eye's jerked open in surprise, guilt filling them as he looked at me.

"How did you know?"

"I share a bed with you most nights, I know what your breathing pattern is when you're asleep, and what it is when you're about to wake up, and what it is when you're awake but denying it, and what it is when you're awake but pretending not to be so that you can eavesdrop."

He stared at me with wide eyes. "Ali, that's kind of creepy."

I smiled and reached down to hug him, perching myself on the edge of his bed and reaching out to stroke his hair.

"So, you and Sam still fighting the inevitable, huh?"

"Just like you would if it was one of us." That got a slight smile on his face, before it faded again and he just looked sad.

"You'll take care of him, when I'm gone."

"Of course I will." I stood from the bed and grabbed the second book Sam had brought, settling myself in the chair he'd vacated. "But that won't be for years yet."

Dean didn't reply and we sat for some time in silence, just holding hands. I read my book, this one was in English, but written in the runic alphabet used by Tolkien in The Hobbit; it didn't look likely that it would hold any useful information. A nurse came with dinner for Dean and he pulled a face at the healthy food, and flat out refused to eat what they had described as apple pie. Though looking at it, I really couldn't blame him. He turned soulful puppy eyes on me and I sighed, agreeing to go and fetch him some real food.

He really has no right to complain when Sam uses the puppy eyes trick, given that Sammy had definitely learnt it from Dean.

The nurses protested when I returned to the hospital with cheeseburgers and cherry pie for two, but when I pointed out, with tears in my eyes, that the doctors had predicted that my brother had mere weeks to live, so his diet wouldn't have time to affect his health anyway, they let me through. I stopped outside Dean's room and gathered myself; wiping the tears from my eyes and pulling a smile onto my face. I don't think I fooled him, but then, given his focus on the food, maybe he didn't notice. Either way, he didn't comment.


On the third day, Dean decided that he'd had enough. We argued over it, but he wouldn't be dissuaded and eventually I agreed that staying in the hospital wouldn't be sufficiently beneficial to be worth arguing over. He did agree to wait for me to go and fetch the car, and I jogged back to the motel, taking my time this time and arriving after a thirty seven minute steady jog. Sam wasn't in the room when I arrived, or he just wasn't answering the door, so I picked the lock and helped myself to Baby's keys which were sat on the table beneath some of the piles of research. Sam had clearly been busy while I'd been staying with our older brother.

I wrote Sam a quick note to explain the absence of the car and left. Sam returned to the motel, coffee in hand, just as I was getting in the car and I paused to speak with him. He'd not found anything in the papers and books that had been spread across both the table and one of the beds in the room, but he'd called every contact we had and one of them, Joshua, had phoned back with news about a faith healer in Nebraska who'd been working miracles, healing the sick.

"You phoned everyone? Even Dad?" I asked, "What'd he say?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on his feet, the car, my shoulder, anywhere but at me. "I haven't phoned him yet." It was mumbled quietly enough that a human would have needed to ask Sam to repeat himself, but I'd heard just fine.

I rolled my eyes, Sam had been pretty angry with Dad lately, and not without reason, so it wasn't a huge surprise that Sam had put off phoning him.

"I'll make the call." Sam nodded in relief, "You look into this guy in Nebraska. That's a long drive for Dean if it turns out just to be smoke and mirrors."

Sam grinned and nodded, turning back to the motel room with a new spring in his step.

I sank into the driver's seat of the car. Not a seat I occupy very often; I can drive, Dean taught me while Sammy was at college. In case we ever needed a second driver and Dad wasn't with us, a getaway driver, a get-to-medical-aid driver, that sort of thing. I'm much shorter than the men in my family though, and whereas they have the bench seat all the way back when they drive, I need it almost all the way to the front in order to reach the pedals, making me a rather unpopular driver.

For now though, while I was alone in the car, I took out my phone and looked at it. Now that I was going to be the one calling, I could understand exactly why Sam had put it off. What was I going to say? How do you tell your father that his first born son was dying in hospital? Would he even answer? Was I going to have to tell him this in a message?

I dropped the phone to my lap, sighing and running my free hand through my hair, as far as I could before it caught in the tangles. I'd not been taking care of myself since the rawhead hunt, I really needed to brush my hair, and take a shower. For now though, I took a fortifying breath and pressed speed dial 3. It rang, and rang, and rang until the answering machine picked up and Dad's voice read out the same message I'd heard every other time I'd tried to get in touch with him since he'd disappeared from Jericho. "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

The beep sounded and I stumbled over my words, tears springing to my eyes at the perceived rejection from our father when Dean needed him most. "D-Dad? It's Ali, I uh… I guess I'm calling to let you know what's happening, Sammy and I are fine, but Dean?" I paused, fighting to keep my voice even. "He's hurt Dad. The last hunt, a rawhead, it went wrong and Dean got electrocuted. It's bad, Dad, the doctors… they say he's got a couple of weeks left. But, uh, they don't know what we do, right?" Tears were pouring down my face by this point, and my voice was definitely wobbling, my breathing uneven. "We'll find something, Dad, we'll get him better. But… anything you know; any favour you can call in… We need you, Daddy."

I hung up, wiping the tears from my face and resting my head back, just looking at the ceiling of the car while my breathing returned to normal and the tear tracks dried on my cheeks. Once I'd mastered myself I pulled the seat forwards to where I needed it before starting the engine and making the return journey to the hospital.

Dean was waiting outside when I arrived. He looked awful. The failing daylight highlighted the dark marks beneath his eyes and he was leaning heavily against the wall. The grin he gave me when I pulled up looked rather more like a wince and I hurried from the car to his side, quickly returning to my task of drawing the pain from him.

"You could've waited inside, Dean." I gripped his arm helping him to the car. "It's not like I'd have left without you."

"Yeah, but you hate hospitals." He gave me his charming smile, which usually meant he wanted me to forgive him for some minor thing. "And besides, I wanted the fresh air."

I rolled my eyes at him and helped him into the backseat, he protested slightly, but then noticed how much legroom there was in the back with the front seat forwards and rolled his eyes at me, getting in without further complaint.


Sam seemed surprised when he opened the motel room door to find me with Dean draped over my good shoulder. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean grinned at him as I helped him over the step and started guiding him towards the table. "I checked myself out."

"What, are you crazy?" Sam then turned on me, "And you let him?" I just rolled my eyes at Sam, like anyone could have stopped Dean from leaving that hospital.

"Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot." Dean grunted slightly as I dropped him into the chair.

Sam huffed a laugh and shut the door which he'd still been holding open. "You know; this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it."

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Have you even slept? You look worse than me." Sam did look bad, but Dean clearly hadn't seen any mirrors lately.

"I've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal." Sam retook his seat on the only patch of bed that was clear of papers on heart treatments.

"For what?"

"For a way to help you. One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist." Sam carefully avoided the words 'faith healer'; although he'd readily told me, we both knew that Dean wouldn't buy it if he heard those words.

"You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"We're not gonna let you die, period. We're going."


After showers, I'd insisted that Sam sleep before getting behind the wheel, as a result I'd ended up driving, my brothers both slumbering in the back seat. Sam had woken at daybreak and I'd pulled over to get fuel and breakfast. Dean had been grumpy when he woke and we'd rearranged the car so that Sam was driving, Dean sitting shotgun and I leant over from the back, feeding on Dean's pain and dozing as Sam drove the rest of the way.

I was jolted out of my doze when the Impala had bumped over a pothole in the gravel track leading up to a muddy field later that afternoon. There were plenty of cars parked in the field, and quite a few campervans too. There was a white marquee set up and people were moving towards it through the drizzling rain, many of them were being helped to walk, some were old, others weren't, but in every group there was someone who was clearly ill.

I yawned as Sam parked the car and we got out. Dean opened his door, grimacing as he moved, and looked at the sign next to the tent. 'The church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle.' He scowled at it, then at me as I rested my hand on his shoulder, and then at Sam as he joined us.

"I got ya." Sam reached out to help pull Dean to his feet, but Dean pulled away angrily.

"I got it." He pushed Sam away and stood, allowing me to link my arm through his, taking his hand and gently dulling his pain. It was clear he was still hurting, but I'd been at it for so long that I really couldn't keep it up much longer. "Man, you are a lying bastard. Thought you said we were going to see a doctor."

"I believe I said a specialist." Sam evaded, "Look, Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal."

"I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent." Dean grumbled.

"Reverend LeGrange is a great man." An old woman with an umbrella remonstrated as she passed us.

"Yeah, that's nice." Dean retorted, clearly not convinced.

We passed an angry man arguing with a cop. "I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he's milking all these people out of their hard-earned money."

"I take it he's not part of the flock." Dean observed as the policeman led the man away from the tent.

"But when people see something they can't explain, there's controversy." Sam excused the man in a voice that told me he was choosing his words carefully, trying not to spark an argument from Dean.

"I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer?" He turned to me, "Did you know this is where we were going?"

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean."

"You know what I've got faith in? Reality. Knowing what's really going on."

"How can you be a skeptic, Dean? With the things we see every day?" I gave an extra strong tug on his pain, just to prove my point, "The way I can take pain away, any idea how I do that? 'cause I sure as hell don't know."

"Yeah, but you're clearly real, I can see you, I know you're real."

"But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?" Sam jumped back into the argument.

"Because I've seen what evil does to good people." Dean retorted.

The young woman walking in front of us suddenly turned around. "Maybe God works in mysterious ways."

Dean straightened, pulling away from me and giving her a charming smile. "Maybe he does. I think you just turned me around on the subject."

"Yeah, I'm sure." She laughed slightly.

"I'm Dean. This is Sam and Ali." Dean held his hand out to the pretty blonde as Sam and I pulled faces at each other behind his back; even dying, Dean couldn't help flirting.

"Layla." She said, taking his hand. "So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?"

"Well, apparently my siblings here believe enough for all of us."

An older woman who bore a great resemblance to the young woman came and put her arm around her, "Come on, Layla. It's about to start."

The two of them smiled at us and turned away, entering the tent. "Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways." Dean commented quietly. I smacked him in the arm and pulled him into the tent after them.

There were a few seats left when we entered and Dean headed towards a seat at the back, nodding towards a security camera mounted on a supporting pole. "Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over."

"Come on." Sam wrapped an arm around Dean and forcefully pulled him towards three seats closer to the stage at the front of the tent.

"Don't! What are you doing? Let's sit here." Dean gestured back towards the seats in the last row.

"We're sitting up front."

"What? Why?"

"Because Sam's a nerd, Dean, of course he always sits at the front of the classroom." Sam turned back to scowl at me for that comment, but it brought a smile to Dean's face.

"This is ridiculous." Dean slapped Sam's hand away from his arm, "I'm good, dude, get off me."

Sam let go and pointed to three empty seats behind Layla and her mother. "Perfect." He moved into the row, ignoring Dean's sarcastic response. "You take the aisle."

I ended up taking the aisle seat, Sam frowned at me, but the crowd was settling down as a woman helped a blind man to the lectern, and he said nothing.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?" The man started, once silence had fallen. "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act."

The crowd responded as appropriate every time the Reverend paused and I started to tune him out. After everything I've seen, everything I've lived through, I'm not sure I believe in God. I'm sure He could be real, but that doesn't mean that I have any faith in Him. He allows too much suffering for me to be able to believe in Him, I'd rather believe in the Winchesters. They help people, they save people, they saved me.

I'm sure religious folks would say that God sent them to me, but that means that God took Mum from them, and that doesn't seem right or fair to me. Dean wouldn't be dying now if he wasn't a hunter. But then, I'm not the only one they've saved. There must be hundreds more people alive today who wouldn't be if Mary Winchester hadn't been killed by a demon.

"It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Yeah, and into their wallets." Dean muttered quietly to Sam, though apparently not quietly enough.

"You think so, young man?"

The crowd, who had been murmuring their approval of the Reverend's words fell silent and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to me. "Sorry."

"No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears." The Reverend smiled in our general direction as the crowd laughed. "What's your name, son?"

Dean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention, but answered.

"Dean." Reverend LeGrange repeated, nodding to himself. "I want-I want you to come up here with me."

The crowd started to applaud, though Layla and he mother in front of us sat stiff and unmoving in their seats. Dean ducked his head, shaking it and trying to appear smaller in his seat. (He's six feet tall, he just isn't capable of looking small) "No, it's okay."

"What are you doing?!" Sam hissed from Dean's other side.

"You've come here to be healed, haven'tcha?" The Reverend asked.

"Well, yeah, but ahh..."Dean seemed shaken, especially when the congregation responded to his words. "…maybe you should just pick someone else."

"Oh, no." The Reverend chuckled slightly, "I didn't pick you, Dean, the Lord did."

With both the crowd and Sam encouraging him Dean finally rose from his seat. I moved into the aisle to let him out, gripping his hand as he passed me. I remained standing where I was, too caught up in the desperate hope that this would work to give a thought to sitting down again.

The woman who'd helped the Reverend to the stage, presumably his wife Sue Ann, directed Dean to stand next to Roy LeGrange who quietly questioned Dean. "You ready?"

"Look," Dean responded in the same low tone that would pass unnoticed beneath the cheers of the crowd, "no disrespect, but ahh, I'm not exactly a believer."

Roy just laughed, "You will be, son. You will be." In a louder voice he addressed the congregation. "Pray with me, friends."

The people all lifted their hands into the air, joining hands, and I clasped my hands together over my mouth, barely daring to breath. My entire focus was on my brother standing uncomfortably on the stage with the Reverend's hand resting on his head. I could tell that he didn't want to be there, his skepticism and lack of belief in God meant that a church was pretty much a new experience for him, coupled with being the focus of attention and it all added up to Dean wanting to retreat and regroup. But as I watched, his body drained of tension and his eyes glazed over, he sank to his knees, the Reverend's hand following.

A second hand, old and withered, appeared on Dean's head, opposite to where Roy LeGrange's still rested. I jolted in shock, and glanced briefly at the old man in a black suit who was leaning over my brother. Where had he come from? Then I focused once again on Dean as he keeled over, his eye's slipping back in his head.

"Dean!" Sam almost knocked me over as we both rushed to the stage. The crowd was clapping, their exuberance a sharp contrast to the panic I felt tightening my chest as Sam grabbed the front of Dean's hoodie, pulling him up.

Dean's eye's shot open and he gasped. The tension in my chest released and I felt like I had surfaced from underwater, gulping breaths as I reached for my big brother. "Say something!"

He blinked, clearly trying to bring himself back to awareness while I reached out for his pain, pleased when I could find nothing. Then I sensed panic, and Dean's eyes widened as he stared at something over my shoulder. I twisted around and saw… just people. The Reverend, his wife and the man who'd placed his hand so suddenly on Dean's head. Then my eyes widened to match my brother's; the man looked human only to a casual glance, on closer inspection he was… I don't know what he was. He was tall, he had black, sunken eyes and his skin was a mottled grey and every inch of it was deeply wrinkled, as if the man was several hundred years old. The man, whatever he was, turned away, and faded away into thin air.


The next day we were in the hospital, getting Dean checked. Dean and I had been quiet ever since we'd seen the strange man, but Sam hadn't quit asking if Dean was really okay.

"Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen." The doctor announced, I shot a victorious look at Sam, hopefully he'd stop asking 'are you okay?' every five minutes.

"What do you mean, strange?" Dean asked.

The doctor folded her arms over her clipboard. "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack."

Dean looked troubled by that, and I have to admit that something sounded strange about that, maybe our kind of strange. "Thanks, Doc."

She left the room and Dean turned to face us. "That's odd."

"Maybe it's a coincidence. People's hearts give out all the time, man." Sam tried to reason.

"No, they don't."

"Look, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

"Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why." I knew what Dean meant; the strange vanishing man had definitely left a bad taste in my mouth. Though I was infinately grateful Dean had been spared. "When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit."

A spirit? It's possible, I suppose.

"But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too." Sam said. "I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

"Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

"You didn't see it, Sam?" Both brothers turned to stare at me, Dean with a look of confusion and Sam looked like I'd just told him he couldn't come in the clubhouse.

"Well, that's weird." Dean concluded, turning to Sam as if challenging him to deny it now.

"Okay, fine." Sam sighed. "What do you want to do?"

"I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. We're gonna visit the Reverend."


"I feel great." Dean told Reverend Roy, we were sat on couches in his living room, "Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened."

Sue Ann handed me a glass of water and I smiled in thanks as she joined us. "A miracle is what happened. Well, miracles come so often around Roy."

"When did they start?" Dean asked Roy, "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind." He told us. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.' I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone."

He took off his sunglasses, showing us his pure white eyes. "If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people?" I asked him.

He nodded in my direction, replacing his glasses. "I discovered it afterward, yes. God's blessed me in many ways."

"And his flock just swelled overnight." Sue Ann told us proudly, "And this is just the beginning."

"Can I ask you one last question?" Dean asked quietly, his voice serious. "Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?"

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest."

"What did you see in my heart?" Burnt, dying flesh? Wow, I can be morbid sometimes.

"A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished."

We left not long after that revelation, but I hung back, gesturing to Sue Ann and Dean that I'd be just a moment as she showed us out.

"Thank you." I told the old man quietly, "For helping him, and please send my thanks to the Lord, I suspect you're on better terms with Him than I am."

"You don't need to thank me. The good Lord gave me this blessing and I use it as He guides me. You should send Him your thanks yourself." I smiled slightly, knowing that he'd be able to hear it in my voice even if he couldn't see it.

"I will. I do believe that there is a God, an Almighty Creator, but I don't believe that He automatically deserves to be worshiped. I've had a life full of ups and downs, and the downs have been… pretty awful. I know a lot about abusive and neglectful parents; and being a father doesn't mean that they deserve respect or love. I'll give my thanks, although I know that God didn't want him saved to spare my feelings, my brother means the world to me, so I'm unspeakably grateful that I won't lose him."

"The Lord works in mysterious ways, child. Perhaps your hardships are preparing you for some task in His great plan. And a parent will always love their child, even if that child doesn't always love them." Mine didn't.

I kept my thoughts to myself, bidding him goodbye and joining my brother on the porch, where Sue Ann was explaining to Layla and her mother that Roy wouldn't be taking any more guests that day.

"Sue Ann, please." The older woman protested. "This is our sixth time; he's got to see us."

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation." Sue Ann said as I passed her. I smiled at Layla in greeting and took Dean's hand as I joined him. "And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs Rourke."

Sue Ann went back inside, Mrs Rourke staring after her. She turned back in disappointment and found me and Dean stood on the porch steps behind her. "Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted."

Layla protested softly at her mother's words, but she went on, clearly frustrated. "No, Layla, this is too much. We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder."

"Layla, what's wrong?" Dean's soft concerned voice calmed the situation slightly.

"I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumour." Her mother finished, bluntly. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say..."

Layla placed a hand on her mother's shoulder, stopping her words and offering comfort.

"I'm sorry."

Lay smiled softly, "It's okay."

"No. It isn't." Her mother said pointedly, staring at her daughter. Then she turned to face Dean. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

The woman turned to leave and Layla smiled softly before following. I chewed on my lower lip in thought. A brain tumour… significantly smaller than Dean's injuries, those were too great for me to even really attempt to heal, but a brain tumour…

"Layla!" I called, running down the steps to catch her before she could go far. "Listen, I can heal people. Nothing on the scale that the Reverend can do, I wasn't able to help Dean, but I could try to help you, if you'd like." I spoke quietly, hoping that her mother wouldn't overhear. "I can't make any promises that it would work, but if you wanted to try, you can call me." I pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from my bag, scribbling my number on it before handing it to Layla. "We could talk about how my healing works, exactly what and where the tumour is, we could plan what I would try to do and you can make a decision about whether you want to try, okay?"

The blonde took the paper with my number, looking surprised and a little unsure, "O-okay."

I smiled at her and she left, following after her mother, who was waiting for her.

Dean joined me, watching the two walk away. "Why did you tell her?"

"Because I suspect that her mother is normally a perfectly lovely person."


When we returned to the motel room, Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop open.

"What'd you find out?" Dean asked, throwing the keys on the bed.

"I'm sorry." Sam murmured to the screen of his laptop.

Dean dropped his jacket on the bed and we both approached Sam. "Sorry about what?"

"Marshall Hall died at 4:17."

Dean looked stunned. "The exact time I was healed."

I wasn't surprised; a life for a life is how these types of spells work in the lore. It was something I had found in my research and I had pondered the morality of it. Could I have cast such a spell? Could I have consciously condemned someone else to die, so that Dean could live? It's not unheard of for some lives to be considered worth more than others, saving children first in disaster situations for example. Could I have killed an innocent person? I don't think so, but if we had found no other way to save Dean, would I have considered sacrificing a criminal? I think I would have. Does that make me a horrible person?

It doesn't matter in the end of course; someone else has done it for me.

"Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits." Sam clicked through some of his research on the screen. "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time."

My phone rang and I fished it out of the depths of my bag, pressing the green key to accept the call.

It was Layla and I stepped outside to talk to her.

"Tell me about your healing?"

"You're Christian, right? Promise not to burn the witch?" I started with a joking tone, hoping to wipe the discussion I'd had with my brothers from my mind, which was increasingly difficult as I became aware of Dean's rising distress. I moved further away from the door as I went on. "Seriously though, I don't know how to explain it other than magic. It's like there's an exchange of energy, nothing comes for free, you want to be healed; a price must be paid. In this case it'll be energy that I put forward. You understand?"

She made a noise of acknowledgement and I wandered on down the street. "Depending on exactly what is wrong with your head, I'll find out what I can do, we can discuss it and you can decide if you want to give it a go."

"Umm, okay." She sounded pretty uncertain. "Magic? Like witches?"

"Similar, it works on a similar principal. But witches of stories and the witch hunts are generally evil witches. They get their powers from deals with the devil, or they simply use their own powers for selfish or cruel reasons. I was born with my abilities, and among people who are born with appreciable ability and trained to use it, I'm pretty unremarkable."

"You know a lot of witches?"

"No, I've come across a few, mostly bad, it's generally best to avoid witches, which isn't difficult, since they're so rare. But I don't think of myself as a witch. Partly because of the negative associations, and partly because honing my abilities isn't something I've actively pursued. Like someone who's good at sports, but doesn't train and compete, wouldn't consider themselves an athlete."

"Oh, okay." She was silent for a while and I walked along giving her time to think about what I'd said.

"So, if you can heal people, why didn't you heal your brother?" Her question was honestly curious and I sighed in frustration with my own inability to have done exactly what she'd suggested.

"Dean was suffering from heart complications after electrocution. The doctors didn't really care that the rest of his internal organs had also been fried, because his heart would kill him before it became an issue." I sighed again, stopping my walk and staring up at a pigeon cooing on a street lamp above me. "I might have been strong enough to heal his heart. But I'd have only bought him another week at most before something else became fatal. I wasn't strong enough to heal everything." A tear trickled down my cheek at what might have been had Joshua not told us about Reverend LeGrange.

"So, why am I different?"

"You've only got one issue. One fairly small issue, that might be fairly easy for me to fix, or it might be complicated, I can't really know until I take a look."

She agreed to talk in person and we arranged to meet for a coffee the next morning and then I returned to the motel. Should I tell her what Roy is doing? Trading one life for another? Should I tell her that someone would have to die to allow her to live if Roy were to save her?

By the time I'd reached the car park I had no answers and I sighed as I knocked on the door. Dean opened it for me, clearly midway through a discussion with Sam regarding Reapers.

"… think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, no, no, not THE reaper, A reaper. There's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them." Dean told Sam who was sat where he'd been when I left; at the table with his laptop. Though a few more research papers now encircled him.

"But you said you saw a dude in a suit."

"Creepy-ass pale dude in a suit." I confirmed, picking up some of the pages scattered around the table and skimming the information.

"What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?...You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

"And me?" I asked, looking up, "How come I could see it?"

"I don't know, you're not completely human, maybe prangeni can see reapers?" Dean guessed. "But there's nothing else it could be. The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

There was a pause while Dean sipped at the coffee in his hand and I scoured the information in front of me; reapers weren't something I knew much about. Then Sam seemed to realise the answer we were searching for. "That cross."

"What?" We both frowned slightly at him.

"There was this cross, I noticed it in the church and I knew I had seen it before."

Sam rifled through the papers on the desk, upsetting the ones I had been reading, before he found what he was looking for, handing it to me.

He'd grabbed a tarot card which showed a priest holding a cross topped with another cross within a circle. I passed the card to Dean. The symbol honestly didn't mean much to me.

"A Tarot?"

"It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early Christian era right, when some priests were still using magic? And a few of them veered into the dark stuff?" Sam was enthusiastic now, the clues tying together with the lore always brought a light into his eyes and an energy to his movements, "Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?"

"So Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?" I hadn't really got that feeling from him, he seemed genuinely good, seemed to truly believe that the Lord had chosen him to heal the sick. Black magic just didn't fit in to the picture of the kindly old man.

"If he is" replied Sam, digging again through the papers scattered across the desk, "he's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white."

Dean stood, placed his cup in the sink and turned back to face us. "Ok, then we stop Roy."

"How?"

"You know how." Dean replied darkly.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about Dean, we can't kill Roy."

"Sam, the guy's playing God; he's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"No. We're not going to kill a human being Dean. We do that we're no better than he is."

"Witches are humans too, Sam, and we've taken them out before." I pointed out. "But something about Roy binding a reaper doesn't seem right to me."

"You mean the part where he tells it who to kill?"

"No. Well, yes. But I mean, he doesn't seem the type, there's something very… innocent about him. I don't think he knows how he's doing it, he's simply delighted that he can help people."

"Ok, we can't kill Roy, we can't kill death." Dean groused, turning to Sam. "Any bright ideas, College Boy?"

"Ok. uh...If Roy-or someone else- is using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta...figure out what it is. And how to break it."


We researched for the rest of the night, until I took a break to cook a decent, heart-friendly meal. Then we ate, researched a little more and eventually went to bed without knowing anything more about the details of binding reapers.

The next morning I met Layla at the coffee shop she'd mentioned on the phone the night before.

She was already there when I arrived and she smiled nervously at me in greeting as I ordered my hot chocolate to go. We exchanged small talk while we waited and once the drinks were served we left the shop, walking down the street in silence.

Layla led me towards a local park, the wooded paths and flower beds made for a pleasant walk in the sunny spells. After we'd walked for a while without seeing anyone Layla broke the silence between us.

"So, you mentioned a price that must be paid for healing, you said something about energy?"

I nodded, swallowing my mouthful of chocolate. "Yes, you're familiar with the first law of thermodynamics? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only changed from one form to another. The healing energy that the body uses normally is taken so slowly that you don't really notice, but you do need more rest when you're sick or injured. When we use magic to heal, that energy exchange is accelerated, so you definitely notice it; it can actually be quite dangerous to use that much energy at once, that's why a lot of the time the person casting the healing spell will put forward their own energy to compliment the energy of the person being healed, so that neither person is completely drained by the process."

I paused in my explanation as a pair of joggers passed us. We walked a little way further before I spoke again. "In the case of a brain tumour, the cure usually requires surgery before healing can begin. What I would try to do is get you to the point where your body can take over and heal itself without further interference from the tumour." We skirted around a puddle. "I would give all of the energy for that, so that you could reserve your energy for your recovery."

"Would it work?" Her voice wobbled with something that sounded an awful lot like hope.

I stopped walking and turned to face her. "I don't know anything more than 'inoperable brain tumour' at the moment. I'd need to know more than that, you'd have to tell me what the doctors said, and I'd have to take a look myself."

She frowned, turning her head to the side and resembling the song birds that were pecking at the muddy ground behind her. "Take a look?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing invasive. All I'd need to do is touch you, that'll be enough for me to be able to sense more about what's wrong and where." I think it's another weird little thing about being prangeni; I eat pain, I can track pain, Deathcries make me feel sick, and if I have physical contact I can sense pain that the person isn't even aware of.

Sometimes it's low-level chronic pain that they don't really register anymore, other times they can't feel it due to nerve damage, either way I can't eat it, but I can still sense that it's there. There are no sensory nerves in the brain, so a brain tumour shouldn't cause the sufferer to feel much pain, but I would probably still be able to tell that it was there.

"Oh, um, okay." She held her hand out to me as if I might bite it.

I chuckled slightly and glanced around, this path was quiet, but people did come along every so often, and we could still hear the sounds of traffic and people passing along the road at the edge of the park. "I'd need somewhere a little more quiet to be able to sense everything I need to."

She withdrew her hand, looking around uncertainly.

"If you're not sure you want to be alone with the possibly crazy magic girl, I won't be offended." I laughed slightly at the guilty look on her face.

"Why do you want to help me?"

I paused; I hadn't really put any thought into my desire to help, not even when Dean had asked me almost exactly the same question. I just wanted to, so I did, it was as simple as that. "You're too young to die." I told her honestly. "And after being so helpless to save Dean; I guess I need to confirm that I'm not useless, that I can help people."

I kicked at a few pebbles as we walked in silence for a while, my eyes on the ground, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. I startled when Layla placed a hand on my arm.

"Would my house be quiet enough?"


Layla's mother was out, though she'd be back to pick up Layla before the afternoon service, so we had the place to ourselves. Layla fluttered nervously, offering to take my coat and asking if I wanted anything to drink. I have to admit that she was starting to make me nervous too, but I did my best to stay calm. It'd be quite useless to have us both in a flap. I accepted the offer of a drink of water and took a seat in the living room while I waited. I took the chance to take a few deep breathes, feeling the air rush in through my nose, filling my lungs with the scent of the lavender potpourri on the coffee table, before breathing out, picturing my nerves as colourful little butterflies rushing out with every exhale.

I opened my eyes when the sofa sank under Layla's weight beside me. I accepted the glass of water and observed her quietly over the rim as I took a sip. She seemed calmer, still nervous, but less jittery. I placed the glass down on one of the mats scattered about the coffee table and twisted in my seat to face the girl.

"Are you ready?"

I held out my hand to her in offering and she swallowed nervously before placing her own hand in mine. I gave her an encouraging smile before I closed my eyes, reaching out with my senses.

She had stubbed her toe that morning; that was the first pain I became aware of. It was terribly faint, but still more apparent than the brain tumour. I passed over it and reached further, narrowing down on her head, on the lump that ought not to be there. There it was; quite large, and growing even as I watched, it was buried deep in her head, too deep presumably for the surgeons' scalpel to safely reach. I poked and prodded at it slightly with my mind, and Layla gasped slightly.

I withdrew from her pulling my hand away as I opened my eyes. "What is it?"

"I- I felt a shot of fear." She shuddered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

I frowned slightly; I think I've just discovered why the doctors thought it to be inoperable. "That's not good; fear is a part of the basic survival instincts. If this tumour has damaged a part of your brain that's responsible for basic survival…"

Her eye's widened then dropped to her lap. "The doctors said that it was a primary malignant tumour." She told me, "They said that even if they could operate, it's unlikely that they would be able to remove all of it without damage, without changing me. They have me on palliative care, they won't even try."

We sat in silence for a moment while I considered what she'd told me and what I'd sensed in her head. "They're not wrong. The treatment would be to remove all the cancerous cells, and it would leave quite a hole in your head." She sniffed and a few tears dropped off the end of her nose, but she made no move to wipe them away. "I have a much better chance of removing them all than a surgeon would have, you'd have a good chance of being cured of the cancer, assuming that whatever caused it in the first place doesn't cause it to return." She looked up at me, wiping her tears away. "But the hole that would be left behind? Layla, I don't know what that would do to you. It might remove your survival instincts, it might affect you in other ways. The body functions essential to survival, heartbeat and breathing and so on, are in another part of the brain, so I'm confident that those wouldn't be affected, but I don't know enough about the brain to make any assurances beyond that."

We sat in silence for a while longer, Layla staring at the glass of water sitting, un-drunk, on the table. Eventually I sighed, patting her hand as I stood. "You have a think. Be sure of what you want to do and let me know."

I was about half way to the door before a quiet voice stopped me in my tracks. "Do it."

I turned back, but didn't move, not yet. She looked up at me with fire in her usually quiet eyes. "If the doctors had offered me surgery, I'd have taken it. Even with the risk that it would change me, even with the risk that it wouldn't even cure me. You're offering me that same surgery, with a much higher chance of being cured. So do it. Help me."

I nodded. The relief in her face was instant, hope flickering like a light in the darkness. "So, how does this work?"

"I'll need to do a little research, now that I know what needs to be done, to work out exactly how I'm going to do it."

Most cures for cancer aim to remove the cancerous cells, either by surgery or by killing them with radiotherapy or with cancer-killing drugs. Actually removing the tumour would require a huge amount of energy, transforming matter into energy is pretty much just theoretical. Killing it and allowing her body to slowly flush out the dead cells was much more achievable.

But how to get all of them? I'd need a spell that targeted the cancerous cells specifically, because checking each cell individually, while theoretically possible, would be much too time consuming and utterly exhausting. Keeping focused enough to do that for more than just a few cells at a time would drain me. But maybe I only needed to do a few cells at a time? Identify and kill the tumour, then go back in and identify the surrounding cells that were cancerous and destroy them.

It was a rather 'blunt instrument' approach, which while it would no doubt prove effective, could quite possibly leave a larger hole in the poor girl's head than was required. No, something that could identify cancerous cells was far preferable; it would leave as many healthy cells in situ as possible. But how to achieve that? And how to kill them once they were identified? Perhaps I could draw the life force from them? My specialty is of course pain energy, but life and pain are closely linked, and the life energy drawn from the cancerous cells could be used to power the identification part of the spell. If I got this right it would self-power, not dissimilar to a nuclear reaction, and I could leave the spell working on her to catch any future cancers.

An interesting hypothesis. But could it be done?

At some point in my theorising I must have left Layla's house. I was brought out of my thoughts by the Impala as it pulled up beside me.

"Get in."

I opened the back door, sinking into the seat as I returned to my conundrum. "How can you identify cancer cells?"

Dean gave me a baffled look through the mirror as he pulled away from the curb, but Sam turned to face me with a frown on his face. "Usually a cancer cell with be deformed, you'd be able to see the difference under a microscope between a normal cell and a cancerous one. But different types of cancer in different tissue types will present differently, sometimes a single cell could be identified as cancerous or not, other times you'd need to see a bunch of them together to know for sure."

I thought about this, sinking slightly in my seat. It had been fairly easy to find the tumour earlier; it was something that wasn't meant to be there, there was no space for it to be where it was, it was crushing the surrounding brain. The cells themselves hadn't felt that different to me, though of course, I'd not been looking for identifying features after I'd found the tumour. Perhaps deeper research into brain tumours would give me an answer.

I filed the puzzle away in my mind for further analysis when I had the resources at hand to find answers instead of more questions and straightened in my seat.

"So, what's the word?"

"We got nothing more on how to bind a reaper. So we're heading back to Roy's place, see if we can't find any evidence there, a spell book or something." Sam informed me, turning back in his seat to face the front.

"You given any thought to the case we're meant to be working?" Dean asked, clearly still grumpy after discovering how Roy had saved him. "Or have you been too caught up in your new dedication to cancer research?"

"I think I might be able to save Layla." I told him cheerily. Sometimes the best way to deal with Dean in a bad mood is just to ignore it. "If I can just work out the mechanics of the spell then that's one less person for the good Reverend to save."

Dean made a grumbling noise under his breath that didn't actually contain any words and Sam turned back to face me. "That's great! This is why you were asking about cancer cells? What are you thinking?"

I explained my thoughts so far and the reasoning behind them. Sam agreed with me that the spell could possibly be made self-supporting and that we should work on it later. Our conversation was cut short as the Impala bumped over a pothole and we both turned to Dean in surprise that he would be so careless with Baby.

To be fair to him though, the road to the LeGrange church was more pothole than gravel and it looked rather impossible to avoid them all. We passed a sign that read 'Service Today' and exchanged ominous looks. We couldn't allow Roy to save anyone else; the cost was too high.

"If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book." Sam reminded us as we exited the car.

"See if you can find it." Dean checked his watch. "Hurry up too; the service starts in fifteen minutes. I'll try to stall Roy."

The man who'd been escorted away by the police the first time we were here handed Dean a leaflet. "Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer."

"Amen, Brother." Dean took the leaflet as we passed.

"You keep up the good work." Sam told him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thank you." Came the somewhat surprised reply from behind us as we hurried on.

Sam split away to search the house while Dean and I joined the crowd entering the tent. Dean went right and I went left, canvasing the church before the Reverend arrived. Nothing was different to the last time we were here, and I couldn't see the reaper either.

I joined Dean in the back corner of the church, spotting Layla and her mother not far from where we were standing and made sure to keep my voice low. "Anything unusual?"

"Nothing I could see." His phone rang and he quickly pulled it from his pocket. "What have you got?"

"Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral. And I think I know who's next on his list. Remember that protestor?" Sam's voice was almost too faint for me to hear through the phone.

"What, the guy in the parking lot?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll find him. But you can't let Roy heal anyone, alright?"

Dean hung up and we exchanged a wordless conversation. We'd been hunting together long enough to have a silent communication that came in very useful, and right now Dean was telling me to leave the tent, 'Go, help Sammy.' We passed each other, Dean heading further towards the front of the church, and I headed towards the exit at the back.

Roy's voice brought me to a halt not far from the exit. "Layla. Layla Rourke. Come up here child."

The crowd burst into applause, everyone seemed to know Layla and be pleased that it was finally her turn to be saved. But my stomach sunk in dread, I hadn't told her, hadn't warned her what the cost of Roy's healing was.

Layla was hugging her mother as I reached her side. "I love you, child." He mother pushed her towards the front of the church, her hands rising to cover her mouth as her eyes filled with tears of joy. I plastered a smile on my face and grabbed her arm, walking with her towards the Reverend.

"Layla, listen to me. You can't go up there."

"Why not? We've waited for months!" She pulled away from me slightly in surprise, but I gripped her arm a little tighter, trying to convey the urgency of what I was trying to tell her.

"You can't let Roy heal you. It's not a miracle like we thought, Layla. His magic works the same as mine, there's always a price to pay."

"I don't understand; Roy healed your brother didn't he? Why can't you let him try?"

"Cause if you do something bad is going to happen. I can't explain. We just need you to believe us." Dean joined us as we passed him.

"Layla, the price of a life is a life. Every time Roy heals someone, someone else dies."

We stopped a little short of where Sue Ann stood waiting, far enough to prevent her from hearing us over the noise of the crowd. Layla stared at me, at Dean, at her mother before looking back to me a little helplessly.

Sue Ann held out her hand. "Layla."

Layla looked between all of us one last time then focused on Dean as he gave a last plea for her to listen to us.

"I'm sorry." Layla walked away, Dean calling after her and the crowd cheering as she took Sue Ann's hand. I hurried to the back, Dean followed but stopped in the back corner, whereas I continued on, leaving the tent.

I could hear someone out in the carpark calling for help, but I knew Sam had that covered. The best thing I could do to help was to stop Roy. A tissue and a lighter fetched from my bag and I soon had a small torch of twisted paper in my hand. I bent, shoving the little flame under the flap of the tent next to some cables.

Arson isn't exactly fun, but it could clear a building like nothing else. Dean would take it from here. I took off towards the carpark, where a man's panicked voice was still calling for help.

Sam's height made him easy to spot after I'd jumped onto a car; being short definitely has it's disadvantages. I raced over to where I'd seen him.

The protestor was stumbling backwards away from the tall man with the pale grey skin who I'd last seen when Dean was healed. Sam was casting about, clearly unable to see the man. I stumbled to a halt in front of the reaper.

"Stop! It's not his time, you can't take him yet."

The reaper stopped, tilting its head to look at me with a curious expression. It only stopped for a moment though before it advanced again towards the man behind me.

I stumbled backwards, keeping my eyes on the reaper rather than watching where I was going. "Something's controlling you, some spell. We're trying to find out who it is, how to break it. We want to put things back to normal."

The reaper paused again, before he faded from sight. Sam's phone rang behind me and he answered quickly.

"David, I think it's okay." Sam told him.

"No!" the scream from behind me made me jump, turning in the air to face the man who was now scrambling back towards me.

"Dean it didn't work. The reaper's still coming!"

"Can you talk?" I hurried forward to address the reaper again. "Can you tell us who bound you? How to stop them?"

The reaper didn't even pause to acknowledge me this time; he simply stepped around me and reached for the man who had fallen, half frozen in terror behind me.

"I'm telling you, I'm telling you it didn't work. Roy must not be the one controlling this thing."

I didn't know what to do, reapers kill with a touch, I didn't want to risk touching it, but how could I prevent it from advancing if all I could do was talk, and it wasn't listening? How do I stop this thing?!

It bent, reaching for David. I don't know what to do!

The reaper stopped, looking confused, then he straightened, staring down at the man lying on the muddy ground at his feet, gasping for breath. Then the reaper turned away and vanished like mist.

"It's gone." I stared at where it had been.

Sam moved passed me to assist the shaky protestor. "I got you. I got you." He helped the man to his feet.

"Thank God."


There were crowds of people milling around the tent, which was only slightly singed from my small act of arson. Sam and I wound our way through them looking for our older brother.

We spotted him talking to Layla and stopped a little way away to give them privacy. She walked away from him and I stepped into her path.

"Layla, I'm sorry Roy isn't what we'd hoped. I can help you, I promise. Give me a day or two to tie the details down and I'll have a cure for you, I'm sure of it."

She didn't answer, just looked at me with disappointed eyes. Then she stepped around me and walked away.

I joined my brothers in time to overhear Reverend LeGrange talking to Mrs Rourke, promising a private session that night to heal Layla.

We'd only bought ourselves a small amount of time.


"So Roy really believes." Sam was sitting on the end of the bad in our motel room. I had appropriated his laptop for my research into the spell to heal Layla and was sitting in Sam's usual spot at the table.

"I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing." I spoke up, getting a surprised look from Dean, who seemed to think that I was completely ignoring the case.

"Well, I found this." Sam drew a small, black book from his pocket and handed it to Dean, who flicked through the pages. "Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper."

"Must be a hell of a spell." Dean commented as I left my seat at the table to read over his shoulder.

"Yeah. You gotta build a black alter with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood." Sam shook his head. "To cross a line like that, a preachers wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil-"

"Desperate." Dean cut him off. "Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy."

"Cheating death, literally."

"Yeah but Roy's alive," Dean shut the book and handed it to me, "so why is she still using the spell?"

"Right. To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral."

"May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." Dean mumbled, and I nodded my agreement as I withdrew to the table, flicking through the book of dark magic.

"We gotta break that binding spell Dean."

Dean leant over my shoulder looking at the picture on the page I had the book open to. It depicted a priest with a cross like the one Sam had shown us on the Tarot. "You know Sue Ann had a coptic cross like this. When she dropped it the reaper backed off."

"So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the alter?" Sam asked.

"Maybe both. Whatever we do we better do it soon, or he's healing Layla tonight."


It was night time when we rolled up to the field where Reverend LeGrange had his tent. We'd turned the lights off before turning in and kept the revs low, the engine purring quietly as we drove along the track, and Dean cut the engine completely as we got closer.

"That's Layla's car. She's already here." Sam said as we drew to a stop, indicating the car on the other side of the dark field.

"Yeah." Dean paused, his hand still on the keys, paused in the act of withdrawing them from the ignition. "You can save her, can't you, Ali?"

"Yes, Dean. I just need to work out the details of how exactly it's gonna work, and what I've gotta do to make it work. But I've got an approach to healing her, and I'm sure it's gonna work."

"In other words, you have nothing more than an idea. No spell. No cure." Dean's tone was cutting. I drew back from where I'd been leant forwards to talk to my brothers in the front seat. I didn't know any spells to heal cancer, healing in general is a rather obscure branch of magic. I was trying to invent a spell from scratch, yes it was taking time!

It's strange, now that I think about it, how few healing spells are out there. Maybe it's because historically magic seems to mostly have been used for selfish reasons. White magic is rather thin on the ground all around, and healing requires more magic than most other applications. Healing spells such as the one that Sue Ann uses aren't that uncommon, sacrificing someone else for the sake of the person you want to heal, but what I want to create for Layla is a spell where no innocents need to pay the price. That's fairly unusual in the lore.

"Dean, even if Ali's spell doesn't work, what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God."

Dean didn't reply, just sat in silence for a moment, then pulled the keys from the ignition with a jerk and shoved them into his pocket, opening the door to leave the car. Sam and I followed without a word.

We approached the tent, carefully and quietly pulling the flap back to peek inside where Reverend LeGrange was speaking to Layla and her mother and a small group of other people.

"Where's Sue Ann?" Dean hissed, and I scanned the tent, not seeing the woman.

"House." Sam answered and we pulled back, carefully dropping the tent flap back into place.

We were nearing the house when I heard voices ahead. I grabbed Sammy and dragged him towards the bushes as Dean whispered after us. "Go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up."

"What are you gonna-?" Sam asked before I clapped a hand over his mouth, giving Dean a look over my shoulder. Telling him to be careful was kinda pointless, this was Dean.

"Hey!" Dean called out, catching the attention of two policemen coming down the porch steps. "You gonna put that fear of God in me?"

Dean had told us how he'd caught Sue Ann holding her cross necklace and muttering, how he'd stopped her and how she'd screamed for help. The policemen had responded and had warned Dean off after Sue Ann had decided not to press charges. These must be the same two cops because they dropped their coffees and ran towards my idiot older brother, who took off into the maze of parked cars and campervans.

Once the coast was clear Sam and I hurried up to the house. The front door was locked and the windows were shut. Then Sam paused, looking up at the house in confusion. I followed his line of sight, wondering what had caught his attention. It took a few moments before it hit me, the house was dark. If Sue Ann was inside, casting the spell to heal Layla, there should have been a light.

Sam leant over the railing of the porch, and then jumped over it to the ground below. I followed, landing catlike and silent after the quiet but distinct thud Sam's boots had made on the soil. Somewhere behind us a dog started to bark as Sam pulled open the hatch to the cellar.

Our boots tapped quietly on the wooden steps as we descended into the dimly lit cellar. Sue Ann was nowhere in sight as we approached the candlelit alter, littered with bits of dead animals, blood, horns, and assorted other unpleasantness. In the middle there was a black and white photo with the face crossed out with what looked like it might be blood. I peered over Sam's shoulder as he picked it up and sucked in a quick breath as I recognised Dean.

"I gave your brother life and I can take it away." Sue Ann's voice startled us, making us both jump and spin to face her.

Sam's face reflected his fury as he tipped the alter over, scattering the various items of black magic across the floor. I started after Sue Ann as she ran for the stairs. She was faster than me. She was slamming the doors shut when I reached the top of the stairs. They slammed open as I hit them.

Sue Ann fell backwards as I climbed from the cellar to stand above her. "Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked. And your brother is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will."

She scrambled backwards as Sam joined me. Neither of us quite sure what to do with the human woman on the ground before us. She pulled the cross necklace from beneath her clothes and gripped it between both hands, beginning to recite Latin. I launched myself towards the woman. Wresting the cross from her hands and snapping the chain around her neck. I threw it hard at the ground.

There was a sound of shattering glass and blood spilled from the cross. Sue Ann gasped, pushing me aside she knelt over the broken cross on the ground.

"My God, what have you done!"

"He's not your God." Sam told her, darkly.

I pulled myself to my feet as the reaper appeared. He smiled; the expression on his grey and heavily lined face making my stomach shrink. Sue Ann's terror was almost overpowering as she rose and tried to run.

The reaper was suddenly in front of her. He placed an old and withered hand on her head. She fell to her knees. The reaper was still smiling when a moment later he allowed her to fall to the ground.

She convulsed, and then lay very still. The Deathcry was sharp and piercing. It, coupled with the look of satisfaction on the inhuman face, was enough to force me to my knees.

Sam caught me as I fell. "No, come on. You can't be sick here." He told me, a hand under each of my arms as he dragged me away. "Best not to leave any evidence that she wasn't alone when she died."

He swung me up into his arms and I groaned at the movement, gripping my stomach and trying to force the nausea down. Sam carried me back to the Impala, I just closed my eyes and pushed my face into his shoulder, inhaling the comforting smell of gun oil and baby brother.

"What's wrong?" Dean's worried voice called out as we reached the car.

"Deathcry." Sam answered shortly. "Come on. We should get going."

"Hell of a week." Dean muttered as Sam lowered himself into the passenger seat, still cradling me in his lap. "You better not throw up in my Baby."


A few days more research and Sam and I had found a method of magically identifying cancer cells we were 99% certain would work. We'd also fine-tuned exactly how the spell would draw the life energy from the identified cells and subsequently become self-powering.

It ended up being easier to cast it on a charm than on the girl herself. I chose a plain silver chain with a small tag next to the clasp. It was very fiddly to scratch the required symbols onto the tiny tag, but eventually I got it done. Sam helped me cast the spell and then we would have to wait and see. Hopefully it would work and Layla would be clear of cancer as long as she wore the chain.

I hoped that the nondescript nature of the chain would mean that Layla would be comfortable with wearing it. She could put whatever pendant she wanted on it.

We dropped it off on the way out of town, encountering a rather bitter Mrs Rourke at the door. Layla explained that she'd gone back to Roy, but that nothing had happened. Her mother hadn't taken it well. She also told us that Sue Ann had been found dead of a stroke, she didn't mention the dark alter in the cellar, so either it hadn't been found, or it wasn't being publicised. Either way, I felt bad for Roy; he was a good man and didn't deserve any of this.

Layla accepted the chain with doubt clear in her eyes and I watched anxiously as she put it on. She didn't drop dead, so I took that to mean that the spell was identifying the correct cells and killing only them. She permitted me to touch her hand, poking around in her head again to check the spell's progress. The lump was still there, putting pressure on the surrounding tissue, but poking at it caused no reaction this time from Layla and I withdrew, happy that she would now recover.

We drove out of town listening to Kansas singing about Miracles Out Of Nowhere. No one spoke, no one needed to. The girl was saved, Dean was saved, David, the protestor, was saved.

But Marshall Hall and many others were dead who shouldn't be. You can't save everyone. It still stung though, every time we failed someone.