Song Remains the Same

Chapter 13 / King of Hell

"Am I going insane? My blood is boiling inside of my veins.
An evil feeling attacks; my body's shaking, there's no turning back."
- Bullet for My Valentine

A Week Later

Alex stared out of the window of the Impala into dark night with a hard, thoughtful face. No music played—the car was silent except for the hum of the engines. The mood was somber as it should be. They had just been to Pamela Barnes' funeral. The psychic died a couple days ago helping them save a seal from being broken. The task of stopping these so-called seals was too big, and deep down, Alex was afraid they were failing before they even began. Her thoughts lingered on the alarmingly fast rate at which friends and fellow hunters were dying. These were dark, dark days.

Dean pulled into a motel, muttering something about needing some friggin' sleep and Sam silently went to go check in. Dean and Alex said nothing as they waited, both lost in their own thoughts. Sam came back with their room key, and like usual, they all grabbed their stuff and went to find their room.

"Ah, home crappy home," Dean muttered, breaking the silence as they entered the dark room. Sam flipped on the lights with Alex close behind him. That was when they saw that they were not alone. The three stopped short at the sight of Castiel and Uriel in their motel room. Oh no was all Alex could think.

"Ah. We've been waiting for you," Uriel said, stepping toward them. Alex looked from him to Castiel, who hung back. He stared blankly ahead of himself. He didn't meet her gaze. It had been a couple months since she'd laid eyes on him. And last time she'd seen him, he'd saved her life then stared at her like—well, she didn't know what like.

"Oh come on, guys!" Dean protested, dismayed to find his plans of sleeping might not reach fruition.

"You are needed," Uriel said, ignoring Dean's comment.

Dean's temper was shorter than normal. "Needed? We just got back from needed!"

One of Uriel's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Now you mind your tone with me."

"No, you mind your damn tone with us," Dean fired back hotly.

"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam explained, as if that would change Uriel's approach. Uriel's face remained blank, and Castiel switched from staring into space to staring at the ground, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze.

"You know, psychic Pamela?" Dean said acridly, attempting to jog the angels' memories. "Cas, you remember her, right? I mean, you burned her eyes out. Ring any bells?" No response from Cas. "Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals," Dean continued angrily, his voice growing in timbre by the second. "So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!"

There was a short silence then Uriel moved forward threatening. "We raised you out of hell for our purposes," he said, as if that solved everything.

"Yeah, what were those again? What, exactly, did you want from me?" Dean remained insolent. Alex looked at Cas again. He was still silent and stone-faced. But he'd been looking at her from the corner of his eye. When she caught him, he quickly looked away.

Uriel stepped even closer, his voice lowering. Beside Alex, Sam tensed. Uriel spoke through his teeth. "Start with gratitude."

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Cas said, breaking his silence and stepping forward to pacify the rising conflict.

"And we—" Uriel gave Castiel a pointed look, stopping the other angel in his tracks, "—don't care." Chastised, Castiel again fell silent, not acknowledging Alex's questioning stare. Uriel continued to address Dean. "Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

So angels could be killed. Alex was urgent. "By what, by demons?" Uriel said nothing, which seemed to confirm the theory.

"How are they doing it?" Dean pressed, similarly caught off guard.

Uriel let out a slow breath through his nostrils. "We don't know."

The Winchesters exchanged looks. "I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it?" Sam asked, voicing what they were all thinking. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much," Uriel said icily, drawing back a bit.

"Once we find whoever it is," Castiel added.

"...So what the hell is it you guys need?" Alex asked, sick of running around in circles.

"We have Alastair," Castiel said, yet again avoiding actually answering the question.

Dean smiled humorlessly. "How nice for you. He should be able to name your trigger man."

"He won't talk," Cas explained. "Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse." Alex still didn't see where the angels were going with this.

"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture," Dean said, shrugging. "I mean, you guys are out of your league."

"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel said. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

"What?!" Alex suddenly understood. This was an ambush. Dean had gone slack jawed, unable to respond.

"Dean, you are our best hope," Castiel began.

Dean was shaking his head, his jaw clenched. "No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this."

Uriel, who had retreated a few steps, now approached Dean. "Who said anything about asking?"

Without the slightest warning, Alex suddenly stood in a dark and cold room. Alarmed, Alex looked to her right, where Dean thankfully stood, just like he had a second ago. But where was Sam? They both whirled to see Castiel and Uriel a few feet off.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled.

Alex shot him a look. "I told you we should have kept that hex bag in once piece," she hissed, receiving an irritated glance from her brother.

He leveled Castiel with a glare. "Where are we?"

Alex looked up, noticing the numerous sharp hooks hanging from the ceiling. The room was cold and clammy—was it a meat locker? Castiel ignored Dean's question and walked to them, then past them, to a solid metal door with a small, hazy glass window. Dean followed the angel and Alex slowly did too, her guard high. Through the little window they could see a tall, wiry man chained to a hexacle erected in the middle of a devil's trap. His head lolled onto his chest, and he panted in pain. Alastair. He was in a different vessel than the one he'd been in last time. Next to Alex, Dean's body had gone rigid.

"This devil's trap is old Enochian," Castiel explained. "He's bound completely."

Dean looked through the glass, his expression unreadable, and Alex stared at him in alarm. "You're not actually thinking about doing this?" His only reply was a brief and tense glance.

"Fascinating, Cas." Dean grabbed Alex by the arm, steering her along with him toward the other end of the room. Castiel watched, frowning in lack of understanding.

"Where are you going?" Uriel, who had been silently observing, stepped into the Winchester's path.

"You're out of your damn mind if you think we're staying here," Dean said. "Now get out of the way."

Uriel merely blinked. "Angels are dying, boy."

"And why, exactly, do we care?" Alex asked contemptuously.

Uriel's gaze came to rest on her. He made no attempt to disguise his sneer. "Because I say you do, imp."

"You watch the way you talk to her, chuckles." Dean let go of Alex and stepped to Uriel's space. "I don't care if you're all-powerful. You can't make me do this. I'm not torturing anyone else. Ever." He looked back at Castiel, who still stood by the door to Alastair. Dean looked as if he expected the angel to back him up or be on his side, but Cas's expression was dour.

"This is too much to ask, Dean, I know." He came forward a little. "But we have to ask it."

Dean looked utterly confounded. "No—no! If you knew what it was like, you wouldn't ask me this. Any of you!"

The room went silent. Uriel was annoyed, Castiel tense. Alex looked to the angel in the trench coat appealingly, trying to get him to listen to her. Maybe he would. "Can't you guys find someone else for this?" Castiel finally looked at her in the eye. "I mean, huge world out there, right? There has to be someone else who can do it."

Castiel was grim. "There is no one else who can do this for us."

"Why the hell did you bring Alex along, anyway?" Dean demanded, looking at Cas first, and then Uriel. "To make her watch this twisted little show of yours? You are some sick sons of bitches, you know that?"

Uriel smiled as if he were amused. "She's here... as leverage."

Neither Winchester missed his meaning. "You said she was protected!" Dean exclaimed in dismay, looking at Castiel for explanation. Castiel looked almost guilty, but said nothing, only looked at Alex, then away.

"I received new revelation yesterday," Uriel said smugly. "The guardianship of Alex Winchester has ended."

Alex glared. "How convenient."

"It's most regrettable," Castiel said, drawing Alex's angry stare. He almost did look sorry. Almost. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

Dean crossed his arms, staring at Uriel stonily. "I wanna talk to Cas. Alone."

"Fine," Uriel said, surprisingly compliant. "I'll go seek revelation. We might have some further orders."

"Well, get some donuts while you're out," Dean said, earning a chuckle from Uriel. It was a deep, rich sound.

"Ah, this one just won't quit, will he?" Uriel smirked. "I think I'm starting to see what Castiel likes about you, boy." And then he vanished, leaving Alex, Dean, and Castiel alone.

"You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby," Dean commented sarcastically to Cas, whose face only registered concentration. "You know, I'm starting to think Junkless has a better sense of humor than you do," Dean said when he got no reaction.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone."

Dean and Alex exchanged a puzzled glance. Then Dean fixed Castiel with an intent gaze. "What's going on here, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"

"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies," he said vaguely.

Alex blinked a couple times, surprised. "What's that supposed to mean?" She had tried to hide it, but a note of concern came through in her voice. Castiel's expression flickered.

"I was getting too close to the humans in my charge," the angel replied quietly. He looked at Dean hesitantly. "You." And then at Alex, sidelong, taking longer still to say his next words. "...and you." It made her shiver. It made her think about the dream in the amusement park. The angel remained highly reluctant. "They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment."

"Or... un-brainwash you?" Alex suggested, then pressed in where she saw opportunity. "Forget that. Cas, just get us outta here."

A muscle in his jaw jerked and he looked at her sternly. "I'm sorry. I don't have the authority or permission to release you."

"Yeah, great." Dean scoffed. "So they knock you down the ladder and put Uriel in charge?"

Cas's frown deepened slightly. "He is a proud and able instrument of God."

Dean was unconvinced. "The demotion… doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?"

Cas looked away, hiding his irritation. "It is what it is, to me." Alex watched him intently—she thought, just for a moment, that she heard a touch of hurt in that deep voice.

Dean took in a long breath, letting it out heavily as he slowly went back to the door that Alastair was behind. "Well tell Uriel, or whoever…" He stared into the room for a moment. "You do not want me doing this, trust me."

"Want it, no. But I have been told we need it," Castiel said. "And if you refuse… Uriel has ordered me to… convince you."

Dean looked back at Cas with a murderous expression. "You mean… using her." Alex. The angel looked at her with an unreadable expression and Alex was appalled—surely he was bluffing. Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas. "You wouldn't."

A muscle jerked in Castiel's cheek. "Dean, I have no desire to do this," he said, avoiding looking at Alex. "Comply and I won't be forced to hurt her." His words were stunning blows, outraging and shocking Alex at the same time.

Dean shook his head, disgusted. "You son of a bitch." He turned back around, falling alarmingly quiet. There was a long, tense pause in which Alex remained speechless.

"Please, Dean," Castiel said quietly, a touch of pleading to his usually apathetic voice. "Just... do as we ask." He glanced at Alex, his eyes hooded. She didn't know what to think. She wasn't sure about much, but Cas wouldn't hurt her, would he? It didn't seem possible after all the times he'd healed her and helped her, gone against orders to do so, even. But here he was, saying he would if he had to.

Dean's shoulders seemed slumped and heavy, and she could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke again. "Cas—if I open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out."

Cas said nothing. Sensing that time and options were running out, Alex tried one last plea, her emotions high strung out of alarm. "Please, Cas. Listen to my brother. Don't make him do this! You can help us." She paused, trying a desperate, stupid appeal. "You like helping us. I know that about you!" Her voice had risen in something close to panic.

But Cas wouldn't look at her. "Please," he said softly, his features twisted. "Stop, Alex." He visibly shored himself up, still refusing to look at her. "You both know what we're fighting for. What we're dying for. What Pamela died for. You know what will happen if we fail." There was a long silence. "For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this."

Dean turned around, his features set like rock. "Yeah. Fine." He looked ill. "I'll do it."

"No! Dean—!"

Dean shook his head, coming to his dismayed sister. "I have to."

Alex shook her head, Dean's horrifying words about his time in Hell resounding in her mind. "No you don't." She was consumed with fear for him, terrified that he'd come back out broken once and for all. "Don't go in there," she begged, voice cracking from the onset of helplessness. She grabbed a hold of him. "Let them do whatever to me, I don't care!"

Dean's eyes were gentle and resigned—her protests were in vain. She could tell. "Well I do care Al. And I've already made up my mind." He gave her his best attempt at a smile, grasped her shoulder reassuringly, then looked toward Castiel, his expression becoming intense once more. "Cas... you do not let her see what I'm gonna do in there."

"Understood."

Dean turned and went through the door. Alex gaped after her brother, completely aghast. The door shut with a resounding clang and silence settled over the room. Alex stared at the door. Her heart was racing. "S-shouldn't someone be in there with him?"

"No," Cas said behind her. She heard him coming to the spot beside her. "He must do this alone." Alex sidled away from him pointedly, angry that he was trying to act like her friend or something. Hurt because she didn't understand the way he kept yanking her around emotionally. A moment of silence passed, then Castiel tried to speak to her again. "Your empathy and compassion for your brother is commendable."

She looked at him like he'd grown another head. "It's natural," she retorted sharply, yet again wondering how this angel could be any part of this. "Do you know what Alastair put Dean through down there? And now you're doing the same thing. Forcing him to torture again after all he's been through." She was bitter. "An angel doing pretty much what that demon did. Pretty fucking ironic."

Cas looked like he was considering what she'd said, his ever-present frown momentarily replaced by an oddly pensive expression. "I understand that you're angry with me. But this must be taken care of. And Dean was our last hope. We exhausted all other avenues. Please, understand that."

Alex set him with an odd expression. "You should know better than this," she told him in a voice that was softer, almost wounded. "I don't even know you. But I know you should know better than this, Castiel." The angel's eyes flickered between hers as his dark brows drew together faintly. Did he agree? Was she way off base? He seemed different than Uriel and even Anna, in a way she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe she was reaching. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe whatever happened in her dream where he came to her at the Tilt-A-Whirl was a fluke. After a minute or two of him remaining silent, Alex decided to root around. "So what's this crap about God's little protective orders on me suddenly reversing? You buy that?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. "I'm no longer your protector." Did Alex imagine the faintest hint of reluctance in his voice?

She wasn't sure why, but she felt oddly let down by his response. "Just like that?"

He was looking into the space in front of him with furrowed eyebrows. "Yes. It's for the best, I think."

That stumped her. "The best? Why?"

Cas's expression was strange. "What I said before. My superiors saw that I was becoming too attached. Too emotional."

"You? Emotional?" Alex made a face. "That's rich..." she muttered, studying him darkly. It all made her so mad. "So if Dean had refused," she ventured stiffly. "Were you really prepared to, you know, torture me to get him to do what you wanted?"

"Dean didn't refuse," Castiel said, sidestepping the question entirely.

There was a disappointed silence on Alex's part. "So basically yes," she supposed out loud. He said nothing, only let his eyes flicker over to hers for a moment guiltily. She felt a cruel sense of treachery, followed by discouragement that she had allowed herself to trust him, in however small a way. She looked away, confused at herself and her instincts that were proving wrong about him. "And here I was thinking you might be different."

Castiel's jaw clenched and he looked up slightly. He didn't answer her. They heard a loud scream in the other room, and Alex's face fell into an apprehensive, wide-eyed stare as she looked at the shut door that her brother was behind. God she wished she and Dean were anywhere else but here. That he'd kept that damn hex bag intact. Another scream followed, and then another, and another. Alex looked at Cas, who finally met her gaze. She didn't bother to hide her betrayed expression. Don't let this happen, she wanted to beg him. He stared back, looking strangely affected by the way she was looking at him. Then he got up and walked a few steps away, his back to her, where she could only see his stern profile. Alex considered him for a moment, then the screams coming from the room beyond. Without warning, she broke into a dash for the door, no plan at all in her mind, just a need to rescue her brother somehow.

Before she even reached the door, Castiel appeared right in front of her, a wind blowing over her from the speed at which he moved. It startled her and she almost ran into him but instead came up short, stopping just in time to hit the toe of her shoe up against one of his. He was only perhaps five inches taller than her, but he seemed like a solid, towering wall blocking her way. His blue eyes were filled with soft, grudging warning. "Let me past." Alex said, and he said nothing and did nothing, only remained in her way. She made to brush past him and he seized her by both arms, holding her in place. "Let go of me!" Alex protested, trying to get out of his impossible grip.

"This must happen, Alex," he told her somberly, and maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed a little urgent. "Please—don't make me restrain you. I know you don't like it."

His grip didn't hurt, but she pretended it did. "You're hurting me," she lied, putting a note of pain in her voice to sell it, even though she didn't think he'd care. But immediately, his face registered a reaction and he let go and stepped back, holding a staying hand out to keep her from continuing her efforts to get to Dean. Alex's surprise showed on her face as she stared at him. What the hell? He was threatening to torture her if Dean didn't comply but wouldn't even hold her tight by the arms when she complained of discomfort? Another scream sounded and Alex's jaw tightened, her anxiety soared... but she couldn't do anything. She recognized that she wasn't going to get past Castiel. Alex retreated to lean against the empty metal table behind her. She folded her arms and slouched, uncomfortable and unsure, hating how she had to sit here and stand by while Dean was forced to do what haunted him. Cas's eyes remained on her, and she could feel them. She said nothing.

A few tense minutes passed, with Alastair's screams punctuating the silence, and sometimes Dean's shouts, indistinct, echoing in between. A sudden movement to her left caused Alex to look up. She was startled to see Anna—young, slender, pale, red-headed Anna, who had last been seen in a blaze of Grace. Was she an angel again? She must have been—she'd appeared out of thin air.

"Anna," Castiel greeted dryly, coming closer—not toward Anna, but toward Alex, as if he were being protective.

"Hello, Castiel. Alex." Anna seemed different somehow—taller, fiercer.

"Anna..." Alex returned neutrally, looking at her apprehensively, suddenly suspicious that Anna had rejoined club angel and was backing Cas up on this. "You here to join the fun?"

Anna's expression was grim. "No. I'm here to end it."

"You shouldn't be here," Cas said, approaching Anna further now. "We still have orders to kill you."

"Somehow, I don't think you'll try," Anna said, and Alex was interested. Why? Because Anna was a great warrior who would kick Cas's ass? Or something else? Anna looked at Castiel intensely. "Why are you letting Dean do this?"

"He's doing God's work," Cas replied stoically. Another one of Alastair's screams rang out.

Anna's expression was pained. "Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Castiel, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have." What weapon? Alex looked between the angels questioningly, but they weren't looking at her.

Cas shook his head. "Who are we to question the will of God?"

"Unless this isn't his will." Anna's insistence was beginning to draw Cas in. Alex watched the exchange with growing intrigue.

"If not God, then where do the orders come from?" Cas asked.

"I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not him."

Another scream broke the silence, and Anna grew earnest, pleading. "The Father you love. You think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous?" Castiel couldn't meet her questioning gaze. "What you're feeling right now? It's called doubt." She touched his hand, a subtle action Alex didn't miss. Cas looked at her hand in puzzlement. "These orders are wrong and you know it. But you can do the right thing. You're afraid, Cas. I was too. But together, we can still—"

"Together?" Castiel yanked his hand away, his thoughtful expression turning hard and deadly. "I am nothing like you. You fell. Go."

"Cas…" Anna said, but Castiel's voice shook with murder.

"Go." He repeated himself darkly. Anna looked at him sadly, but did as he said and disappeared. Cas looked shaken up and angry, which was interesting to see—genuine emotion, a real reaction.

"I thought you had orders to kill her," Alex said, testing him. Castiel looked at her almost balefully, as if he didn't want to be reminded of the fact. Alex copped a disarming, easygoing air that would have made Dean proud. "Death sentence or not, you were kinda harsh there at the end, buddy."

Castiel remained grumpy. "She suggested blasphemy."

Alex stood up and threw her arms wide in a shrug and let her hands hit the sides of her legs with a loud slap. "She suggested using your goddamn brain."

"It's not that simple," Cas replied, his voice decidedly agitated.

"Bullshit," Alex countered. "Something's wrong here about this, can't you feel it?" Or did he have God's Will too shoved up his own ass to know right from wrong? "You could take some lessons from Anna, you know that? She questions things and decides herself what's wrong or right. She isn't a blind follower like you are."

Cas snapped, whirling on her. "I am not blind!"

Mildly surprised, Alex shrank back. Maybe pissing the ultra-powered angel off was a bad idea. From the look on his face, Cas immediately regretted his outburst. His fire cooled into something like sadness. "You speak as if you know everything, Alex Winchester." He contemplated her with cryptic eyes. "You know nothing."

Mysterious. Another brief silence hung. Uncomfortable as she was, Alex figured this was as good a time as any to ask the question she'd been toying with. Because maybe it was somehow related. "Were you and Anna… involved?" The question caused Cas's already stern face to flicker with more confusion. "Romantically," Alex clarified uncomfortably. She hadn't anticipated feeling embarrassed to ask him this, yet she did. Neck burning on fire and everything.

Castiel shook his head. The way he eyed her was unnerving and thorough. "Angels don't involve themselves with each other in that way." He sighed, softening. "It's—" He suddenly stood straight, frowning hard, and looked toward the cell. "No."

"Cas?" Alex asked, looking around in confusion. He had disappeared. A sudden, terrifying thought came to her, and she dashed to the door of the room where Alastair was. What she saw through the window sent horror reeling, and she yanked the door open, rushing in, only to be slammed against the wall.

"Stay back!" Castiel barked. Alex had no choice but to comply.

On the floor at the edge of the devil's trap, Dean's body laid lifeless, his face a mess of bruises and blood. Alex struggled desperately against the hold Castiel had put on her, but it wouldn't budge. Alastair, who had somehow been freed from the trap, was grinning wickedly, pulling Ruby's knife out of his chest, unharmed by Castiel's attack. He chortled eerily and charged Castiel—Alex could only watch, ineffectively struggling, as the angel and the demon began trading devastating blows, destroying parts of the room as they threw each other around. It was only a matter of maybe ten seconds, but Alastair gained the upper hand, slamming Cas against one of the walls and holding him up by his neck. Blood ran down the side of the angel's face, and Alex felt the hold on her lessen as Alastair began exorcising Castiel, shouting Latin. Frozen in terror, she watched as Cas's mouth and eyes began to glow in fierce blue light. She tumbled forward, free to move once again. A couple feet away, she saw a cinder block. Without a second thought, Alex grabbed it, heaved it up with both hands, and crashed it down on Alastair's head, stunning the demon and freeing Castiel from the chokehold. Cas tumbled to the ground, momentarily dazed.

Recovering, Alastair strode toward Alex, who was backing up fast, but not fast enough. "Alex, Alex, Alex… I'm getting reaaaal tired of your antics, little girl!" Alastair reached out with incredible speed and strength, yanking her up by the front of her shirt as if she weighed nothing. He sent her flying toward the far wall with devastating power. She collided with the cement wall, shoulder and head first, a sudden, sick pain exploding. Befuddled, she felt herself fall over onto her back. The world went sideways, and she heard Castiel shout something, but wasn't sure what. Everything faded out.

"It's not us. We're not doing it!"

Alex heard someone shouting, followed by bizarre and pained screams.

She opened her eyes unevenly. Everything came rushing back as she blinked, eyes refocusing awkwardly. She stared at the ceiling with one of her legs tucked under her weirdly.

"I don't believe you," came a familiar voice. Sam? Alex struggled and rolled onto her side, supporting herself on an arm. Her head pounded, and there was something wet on the side of her head. She touched her fingertips to it. Bright crimson came away. Woozily, she looked up at the spot where she remembered Cas being. He wasn't there, but she saw that a pair of shoes were right in front of her face.

"Lilith is not behind this," Alastair said, his strangely nasal, lisping voice full of an ominous happiness. "She wouldn't kill seven angels. Oh, she'd kill a hundred, a thousand…"

Alex looked up foggily at the owner of the shoes in front of her face to see Castiel reaching down for her. There was still blood running down the side of his face. He pulled her to her feet and Alex clutched onto his arm for support, off kilter. He was so handsome, she thought idly, and it was sad he had to be such an asshole. She lurched as her vision swam and she hung onto him tighter so that she didn't fall.

"Go ahead. Send me back, if you can," Alastair taunted Sam, who smiled faintly.

"I'm stronger than that now," Sam said darkly. "Now I can kill." He held his hand out, and his expression became concentrated, aloof. Alastair's face fell and golden light flickered inside him, the outline of his skeleton pulsing through the skin. Adrenaline or fear abruptly overpowered Alex's woozy state, rendering her sober and wide-awake and she stared in sudden breathless horror. How was he doing that? Beside her, still supporting her, Castiel watched too, his expression matching hers. Almost in unison, they clutched each other tighter as the demon began to scream, the pulsing golden light intensifying, then exploding inside of him. The host collapsed, dead. Sam looked pleased, a strange smile on his face that Alex would never, ever forget.

A soft groan drew everyone's attention, and Alex jerked herself out of Castiel's grip, staggering over to Dean's crumpled body. She fell onto all fours and put her head to his chest, listening. Sam was right behind her. Alex drew away. She was startled to see that she'd left a blood stain on Dean's shirt where she'd pressed her ear. Yes, she'd cut herself and been given a solid knock on the head... but Dean was barely breathing. "We need to get him to a hospital," she said urgently, choked on panic.

Castiel came to them, his expression dogged. "Hold on."

Alex and Sam stayed by Dean's bedside, hoping for a sign that their brother would regain consciousness. It had been a couple hours since Cas dropped them off at the ER then disappeared, and Dean had been stabilized but remained unconscious. The doctor had wanted to treat Alex, but she refused. It was only a cut and possibly a mild concussion. Baby stuff as far as she was concerned. She sat on the edge of Dean's bed and gently ran her palm down the side of his still face. He looked free of worries, at least. A small mercy. But would he be okay?

Sitting in a chair nearby, Sam suddenly shot up to his feet. Following his suddenly hostile gaze, Alex rose too. Castiel stood in the doorway, silent. He looked normal again, free of blood, no rips in his coat. Wordlessly, the angel turned and walked away. Exchanging a glance, Sam and Alex took after him, Sam leading the way. Alex hadn't confronted her brother on what he'd done to Alastair. Not yet.

"Sam—" Castiel started as the young hunter caught up to the angel in the hospital hallway.

Sam jabbed a finger back toward Dean's room. "Get in there and heal him. Miracle. Now."

"I can't," Cas said, eliciting incredulous expressions from the twins.

"What do you mean, you can't?!" Alex demanded.

"I mean I can't," Castiel repeated firmly, but his expression wasn't the usual confident and stern frown. He looked upset. "I shouldn't even be here right now. I've been warned for the last time about healing."

Alex was beside herself. "But he needs it!"

Sam was similarly aghast. "You and Uriel put him in there—because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together!"

Cas looked between the two siblings who had pretty much cornered him. "I don't know what happened. That trap... it shouldn't have broken. I am sorry."

"Oh. You're sorry?" Alex asked scornfully.

"This whole thing was pointless. You understand that?" Sam demanded. "The demons aren't doing the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers, and that's the truth. Hope you're happy." Fed up, Sam whirled and stalked back to Dean's room, leaving Castiel and Alex alone in the dim hallway.

"Perhaps Alastair was lying," Cas attempted, only to be quickly cut off by another angry retort from Alex.

"Yeah and perhaps the sky is purple! You're honestly going to stand here and not do anything—after Dean did everything you asked? You forced him to do your dirty work, for what?!" She was infuriated to the point that she could have cried. "So that you can leave him to rot in there?!"

"I don't know how that devil's trap could have failed—" Castiel tried again.

"It was sabotaged!" Alex exploded, "Or rigged! Maybe by you, Cas! Huh?" Shock rippled across his features. "I wouldn't put it past you at this point." She was blinded by anger and confusion.

"...How can you even say that?" He sounded wounded. "I've done nothing but stand at your side and give you assistance and guidance from Heaven."

"Yeah, thanks," Alex retorted sarcastically. How could he not know how much he had risked by letting Dean torture Alastair? Or how twisted it was to force Dean to do what he did? Alex's rage was collecting inside of her blindingly, and she realized she needed to walk away before things got nuclear.

She turned to depart, but he grasped her arm lightly, stopping her. "I'm only here to help."

She saw red as she whirled. "Don't touch me!" she snarled, shoving him hard with both hands—but he didn't even budge. The force of her strength did nothing to him whatsoever. Caught completely off guard, Alex gaped—then grew angrier. She hauled off in an attempt to slap his face. He caught her wrist without missing a beat and looked her dead in the eye. With a grunt of frustrated anger, she tried a left-hook as he let her wrist go. He stopped her fist with his hand easily, confounding her with his strength... and how much the impact hurt. It was like punching a wall. Immediately she regretted her choices, cradling her fist in pain.

Castiel regarded her ruefully. "Please, stop this." He had the gall to look almost apologetic. "You can't hurt me, Alex." She held her hurt hand to herself mistrustfully. Apparently not. He was silent for a beat, looking at her hand tensely. "Is your hand all right?"

"What do you care?!" Alex shot back, trying not to show how very agonized she was.

Cas was irritable. "You shouldn't exert yourself. You've sustained a head injury."

"This 'head injury' isn't half as bad as the pain you've been in my ass!" She fired back. "If you're not gonna help, just leave us alone."

"Alex... you have to have faith," the angel beseeched.

That set her off. "Oh spare me your pearly gates bullshit," Alex hissed—she wanted to hit him so bad, so she did the next best thing: "Fuck you and stay away from me, I hate you!" She meant it too in that moment—or maybe she meant that she hated the hope he gave her and the disappointment that followed when he refused to stand up and do the right thing. Her eyes glittered with defiant, conflicted tears. His face registered absolute confusion and hurt—her words had stung him. But instead of feeling better, Alex felt a very strong pang of regret. Pride made her lift her chin and stare at him, refusing to let him see through her, trying to let him think that's actually how she really felt. If for no other reason than to protect herself.

He seemed devastated by her words. "I… I don't understand," he said, and the innocent way he said it tugged at her chest. "I risked everything out of compassion for you. To give you back your voice. Despite everything—I know I've made some errors—but despite everything, I am your friend." Alex felt like she'd been socked in the gut when he said that. Friend? Did he really think that? He seemed so pure of heart right then, so full of earnestness. He seemed like the Castiel she kept catching glimpses of and liking. "Why would you say this to me?" His hurt question hung in the air, and Alex couldn't deny the guilt that washed over her as he had said that.

Grudgingly, she looked away. She shook her head, feeling unstoppable emotion brimming as she finally looked him in the eyes again. "If you're my friend, then you'll help us," she begged. "Please! Dean might die!"

Cas's face showed reluctance and as he spoke, there was an intensity there, as if he were asking her to please understand. "Alex—I cannot help you. It's out of my hands. I've been ordered not to—" he stopped mid-sentence, seeing the pained look on Alex's face. Surprisingly, Cas addressed exactly what Alex was worried about. "Dean won't die. He'll survive this, I promise you."

Alex just looked at him in hurt confusion. "But you can help us. And you won't. Why?" Cas's gaze faltered as if her words shamed him and Alex gritted her teeth together, realizing she had made a huge mistake. Trusting him enough to hope that he would help them. Her voice got cold and trembled. "What you did today, what you let happen was wrong." She retreated from him. "Just stay the hell away from my family, understand?" And without waiting for a reply, she turned and left him standing there.

She didn't look back to see if he stayed. She was too busy squeezing her eyes shut and trying to shove the shame and confusion away. She saw his wounded face in her mind's eye. Why wouldn't he listen? He could help and he wouldn't. And the worst part was how Alex found herself believing Castiel should help, that it was within his character to help them. She scoffed at herself. In vain, she rubbed her fist in her other hand, wincing. Punching him had been like punching a tree trunk. And the worst part was that if he hadn't caught her first in his hand like that, if he'd let her hit his face, she probably would have broken her hand altogether. He was looking out for her in the only way he knew, maybe.

She grimaced against the shooting pains in her knuckles as she re-entered Dean's room. Sam sat at Dean's bedside, leaned over his knees as he watched their brother intently. He glanced up at her. "I've never seen him this bad."

Alex took her seat opposite of Sam, unable to hide her anxiety. Dean looked horrible and sallow, and she'd seen him this bad only once or twice in her whole life. She gritted her teeth together, breathed out heavily, weary and hopeless and worried beyond comprehending. "What are we gonna do?"

Sam's jaw clenched as he thought for a minute. "We're gonna lay low. We're gonna get him better. And then we're going to figure out a way to get these damn angels off our backs for good."

Alex shook her head hollowly. It would all be easier said than done. For a minute, they watched Dean silently, the beep, beep, beep of the heart rate monitor punctuating silence.

And then nervously, Alex cleared her throat. She didn't want to have to ask what she was about to. "Listen, Sam. How were you able to kill Alastair like that?" She paused. "You were… full on telepathic." She struggled not to sound repulsed or afraid. "Not even Ruby's knife did anything to him."

Sam was somber, his gaze stony. "Uh, yeah, I dunno. My abilities are just stronger."

Alex felt like she wasn't getting the full story. "I mean, do they get stronger every time you use them?"

"Something like that." Sam sighed, looking away uncomfortably. "Sorry. I don't like to talk about it. I, you know, don't understand them myself."

Alex nodded and let it go, even if she would retain her suspicions for some time to come. "It's okay Sam. It's fine." But it wasn't fine. She looked at him from underneath her lashes across the bed. Even though he was within arm's reach, he could have been a hundred miles away. Troubled, she remembered how he had barely been able to exorcise Samhain, some punk street demon, a couple months ago. So how was it that he so easily killed one of the most powerful demons in existence… with only his mind? Alex contemplated her twin with clouded feelings... mourning the fact that she felt slightly afraid of him.

Castiel found Uriel sitting on a bench in the middle of a snowy glen. His brother had his eyes closed. "There you are," Uriel said, as if he'd been expecting him. He opened his eyes. His demeanor was agitated and distressed. "Castiel, I received revelation from our superiors. Our brothers and sisters are dying and they… they want us to stop hunting the demon responsible."

Castiel sat carefully beside Uriel, remaining silent, distracted.

'I hate you!' His mind lingered on Alex's angry words. The way she'd attacked him. Before this vessel, he hadn't dared to imagine that they would ever speak to each other, but if he had... he never would have imagined she could ever be so angry with him. Make him... hurt so much. How was it possible for mere words to make him ache inside? He felt defeated and didn't understand why.

Uriel sighed, ignorant to Castiel's inner struggles. "Something is wrong up there. I mean, can you feel it?" He looked heavenward.

Castiel glanced Uriel's way, torn out of his thoughts. He didn't want to address his growing doubt in the purity of Heaven's orders. "The murders," he said, distracted. "Maybe they aren't demonic. Sam Winchester said the demons had nothing to do with it."

"If not the demons, what could it be?" Uriel asked, sounding shocked at the idea.

"The will of Heaven," Castiel theorized. His shoulders were slumped at the reality. "We are failing, Uriel," he said heavily, distressed at the thought of how dire these times truly were. "We are losing the war, perhaps the garrison is being punished."

The suggestion seemed to bother Uriel. "You think our Father would—"

"I think maybe our Father isn't giving the orders anymore," Castiel said, emboldened, letting himself take Anna's stance, take Alex's stance. He thought about how Alex had insisted, repeatedly, that something was wrong with the scenario. Off. And Castiel decided that he, too, felt that way. "Maybe there is something wrong."

Uriel's brow furrowed. "Yes. I believe there is."

Castiel looked Uriel's way again, surprised. He prepared to broach an uncomfortable subject. "Uriel. I asked around. No one else in Heaven received revelation about the end of Alex Winchester's guardianship."

Uriel turned slowly to look at Castiel. "Well I did."

"Did you?" Castiel challenged quietly.

Uriel's eyes narrowed. "What are you accusing me of?" he asked in a soft, dangerous tone.

Castiel returned Uriel's gaze unblinkingly, under the knowledge that there would be no going back from what he was about to say. As of late, Castiel had been under the influence of outsiders—namely Alex and Dean Winchester. In the privacy of his own mind, he wondered if theywere the reason he had begun to suspect Uriel of lies and deceit. But no matter who or what had caused him to think these things, he thought them all the same. Castiel gathered his courage. "Of manipulating the situation to your advantage."

Uriel scoffed, recoiling. "Our superiors are right. You have begun to lose your mind." And without another word, Uriel disappeared.

Uncertain and alone, Castiel was lost. This was not supposed to be happening. He was not supposed to mistrust and second-guess his brethren. And still, he did. The growing sense of unease, of wrongness, was too strong to deny. Yet he wanted to deny it. Heaven had been stable once. He had known his place and has carried out his duties without question. Things were different now. Castiel was considering very terrible and blasphemous things in the depths of his mind. Things like disobedience.

Absently, he wondered about Dean. His injuries were bad, but he would survive. Still, seeing him bruised and unresponsive had sparked a strange feeling in Castiel's spirit. It didn't have to be that way, yet Heaven said he was to do nothing about it… he was to stand idly by and allow the man to suffer. Why? What Alex had wanted to know, Castiel wanted to know, too. He thought of her again. He could still see her hazel eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed red as she struck him. He had felt nothing, at least physically, upon the impact of her fist. But internally, he'd been appalled—because she'd tried to hurt him. 'I hate you!' He didn't understand how such a simple declaration could have made him feel so bad or why it still bothered him so deeply. Above all, he knew that spending so much time thinking of her was not prudent or advisable. And still... he did.

Night came and Castiel finally stood. He needed help, and perhaps seized by madness for a moment, he asked for it from the strangest of places. He stood underneath a dim streetlight and called for her. "Anna!" A moment passed and she made no appearance. His voice softened as he searched the darkness for a sign. "Anna, please." The light above him flickered softly and Castiel looked up into it, then turned around.

"Decided to kill me after all?" She glanced around as if she thought other angels were hidden nearby.

"I'm alone," Castiel assured his sister angel plainly. His entire mind was consumed with worry and fear, conflict.

She seemed a little surprised. "What do you want from me, Castiel?"

Castiel looked at his sister and confessed his greatest sin. "I'm… considering disobedience," he told her heavily, barely able to withhold how fearful it made him to admit such.

The smallest smile came over Anna's face and she smiled. "Good."

"No," he insisted, "it isn't." Was this what panic felt like? Confusion? He tried to explain it to her. "For the first time, I feel…" he didn't know what else to say. "I feel." He knew no way of standing up underneath the metaphorical weight of the things he was experiencing. The longer he was around the Winchesters, the more feelings came over him. It was like a monsoon he couldn't control.

"That's good, Castiel," Anna repeated, coming a little closer, giving him a hopeful and reassuring smile. "I know it's intense and frightening and new, but it is good."

Castiel was perplexed. "How can it be good? The things I'm feeling... they're corrupting my thoughts and actions." His voice softened because he felt ashamed of himself. His eyes flickered downward. "The things I feel… they tempt me."

"Tempt you how?" Anna asked, concern in her eyes.

He had to think about what he meant. "To choose my own actions," Cas finally said. "To disregard orders in favor of what I deem appropriate."

"And why should that be wrong?" Anna asked, her concern melting away into a studious, earnest tone. "We were taught never to question anything, Castiel. Because they knew if we questioned, we would begin to see." She was deadly serious and quiet. "A war is coming. A different war than what we fight now. You can sense it, can't you? The future is dark and uncertain. Heaven's not what it used to be." Anna contemplated him with sadness in her eyes. "Do you even know who it is you serve anymore?"

Castiel's eyes went down slowly as he thought very hard and realized the answer was deeply horrifying. "No," he murmured. "I don't think that I do."

"You could be like me, Castiel," Anna appealed. "You could choose your own course of action. Use the power our Father gave to you to help the humans you choose. The humans you care about." She paused meaningfully. "Her." Castiel's eyes snapped to Anna's at the nameless mention of Alex. Anna's eyes were soft and knowing. "Tell me, Castiel. What things do you feel for her?"

Bristling, Castiel's face returned to a mask. "I am her Heaven-elect protector. Feelings are not part of the arrangement."

Anna shook her head ruefully, seeing straight through Castiel's attempts. "You and I both know that's not true. Why do you think you got in trouble for restoring her voice, Castiel? You felt back then. She made you feel compassion. You were moved to action by what you felt. Even from the distance of realms, even across the divide." Castiel looked down, ashamed at himself for being disobedient. Anna saw his expression. "Would you take it back, if you were able?"

Castiel raised his eyes to hers. His answer was immediate and strong. "Never." He didn't understand himself. But the shame he felt for disobeying was nothing compared to the deep feeling that he had done the right thing. He remembered hearing Alex laugh out loud for the first time. He would never choose to not give her that. It had made him… happy. That sound and what it meant. She had been happy, too.

"Then why are you fighting so hard?" Anna asked gently, peering at him in true confusion.

The thought of the new and unknown—the thought of existing in a way where he was in charge of his every action—it was terrifying. Shouldn't he accept who he was? A 'hammer' as Dean had put it? There was a war inside of him, and Castiel didn't know how to win. "I was created to follow," he said, attempting to rationalize and use logic, attempting to remember himself. "I shouldn't presume myself the commander of my own destiny."

There was a soft, fond expression on her face. "Maybe you should. And maybe that's what God wants." Anna put her hand on Castiel's shoulder, trying to comfort him or sway him, he didn't know. He looked at her hand balefully and she dropped it away. Hurt crossed her face. "That's right. You're too good for my help. I'm just trash," she said in a sharpened voice, "a walking blasphemy." She turned to leave him.

"Anna, please—" Castiel said, voice rising a little bit in response to the turmoil he felt inside. "I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do." He waited for her to say something, to continue telling him things that helped him feel as if perhaps his actions weren't wrong or sinful.

Anna turned halfway to look at him and there was a bittersweet smile on her face. "No, Castiel," she said softly. "I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself."

Alex gave the corner vending machine a swift kick, cursing it under her breath. She grabbed it with both hands and shook, trying to get the freaking thing to dispense the pack of M&Ms. "Come—on—you—jackass—son of a bitch—motherfucking jerkoff—" she grunted, rattling it with violent, exasperated force. Finally, the little packet tumbled loose and she was able to fish it out of the machine. She clenched the little bag of candy tightly… it had proven to be very coy. So much so that she felt mad at it. She set off down the dark hospital hallway back to Dean's room, where her brother was awake, on the mend, and anxiously awaiting the delivery of his snack.

"Well, thanks to your little midnight craving—" she started as she opened the door, but then fell silent at the sight of him. Castiel stood up as she entered the dark room. He'd been seated beside Dean, in her seat. And then she saw Dean's face in the dim moonlight that came in through the window. He was stricken and distressed, his cheeks looked tear stained. "Dean! What's wrong?!" She glared at Castiel accusingly as she went to Dean's side protectively. "What did you do to him?!"

A slab of moonlight fell diagonally across the angel's face, and she could see him looking at her with a strange expression. Discomfort. "I answered his questions. I told him the truth which I uncovered."

"Which is?"

Castiel's gaze faltered. "I discovered that Uriel was the one who was killing angels. He wanted to raise Lucifer. He said other angels do, too." He paused, looking into her eyes.

"What?" Alex asked, her face going soft with surprise. "What happened after you found out?"

A muscle in Cas's jaw jumped and he looked away. "He's dead." From the way he said it, Alex thought Cas was saying he killed him too. That stilled her. Changed things, maybe. Castiel looked resigned and burdened—different somehow—exhausted and overwhelmed. Alone. And like it or not, she felt empathy helplessly.

"There is a war in Heaven and I must fight for righteousness," Castiel said. "You and Dean and Anna were right." Alex was in stunned silence by the turn of fate. He was trying. To do the right things, to think for himself. To be their friend. Her friend. She looked away, but Cas didn't take his eyes off her. His gaze fell to her hand. "Is your hand all right?" Again he caught her so off guard. She looked at him incredulously, hearing the concern in his voice.

She withered slightly underneath his questioning gaze. "Uh... y-yeah, it's fine." She swallowed, remembering what she'd screamed at him earlier.

Castiel was as tense as ever and looked to Dean. His frown deepened. "I'll leave now." But before he did, he looked at Alex once more, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Alex." And he was gone, before she could ask what for. Although Alex couldn't know what he meant he was sorry for, Castiel had meant he was sorry for several things: her hand. Making Dean torture Alastair. And letting her think that he would ever, for even a moment, willfully hurt her. Castiel had known, the entire time, that should the moment come, should Uriel have told him to hurt Alex to coerce Dean into action... that he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to that. And he was sorry that he'd let her think that he would.

But she didn't know what he meant and Alex was left to stare at the place Castiel disappeared from. "Dammit," she muttered, unable to put her conflicting frustrations into coherent thoughts or words. She didn't roll like this: she made up her mind about things and stuck by her decisions. But with Cas, she kept going back and forth.

A soft sniff tore her out of her thoughts and she turned her attention to Dean, who was struggling to control his face. "What is it?" Alex asked in dismay, sitting down on the bed and gently brushing his wet cheeks with the backs of her fingers. She always got upset when Dean was upset, but his tears—those terrified her.

He caught her hands in his to stop her and held them firmly, his eyes squeezed closed. "Cas said that I was the one who started the apocalypse." His eyes opened, his face contorted in guilt and pain and he looked at her with a horrible, pained expression. "Me. In Hell, I broke the first seal. I started it."

"...What?" Alex whispered.

"When I tortured souls, it started this whole freakin' thing," Dean whispered tearfully.

Alex grasped at straws for the right words to say to comfort her miserable brother and for a long moment she couldn't come up with something. Finally, she managed, "Well, you'll be the one to end it, right? You and me, a-and Sammy. We'll beat this. Dean... hey. Hey."

What little composure remained was fast crumbling, and Dean shook his head. His voice cracked with raw emotion—with a certain note of hopelessness. "I'm not strong enough, Al. I've carried too much for too long, and I can't do it. I just can't. I don't have the strength anymore." He shook from a sob that wracked his entire body, and Alex didn't know what else to do.

She crawled into the bed, embracing him tightly, even though she herself was beginning to feel as though she were falling apart, too. "You don't have to do it alone, Dean. I'm here."

He wept and she clutched him in total terror, glad he couldn't see her face right now. When Dean, her rock, fell apart, she didn't know how to be okay.