Song Remains the Same
Chapter 17 / Two Roads Diverged
"So light the fire, walk away. There's nothing left to say."
- Bullet for My Valentine
Sam stared up at the ceiling fan. It was surrounded by the familiar design of a devil's trap. The blades swept a slow, heavy rhythm. He had lost track of the hours and days. No one answered when he called.
He was settling into a disheartening routine: first he paced the room and banged on the walls. Then he gave up and sat in the corner and wept with shame. Then he'd grow angry and would hurl himself against the walls. He'd then collapse down and get depressed, then start the process all over again with renewed fervor.
Sam knew he was in bad shape in the moments of clarity he had between blackouts. He was beginning to see things and people. Alastair, his mom, himself when he was fourteen. He was so confused and tired, and all he could think about was getting some demon blood, quenching the maddening thirst. He needed to free himself from this hell he'd built in himself, he needed his family to understand that he had only drank the blood in order to get strong enough to kill Lilith.
He heard a soft sound beside him and sat up quickly from where he'd been laying on the cot. His twin sister stood in the shadows at the edge of the room.
"Alex! How'd you get in here?!"
Her face was obscured by strange shadows. He could literally feel the disdain emanating off her. She ignored his question. "Unbelievable. Look at you, Sam. So far from what you're supposed to be." She came closer, sneering at him in disgust. "Not even human anymore, are you?"
"I'm… I'm still human…" he protested weakly. "I'm still me. Please, believe me. You gotta help me."
She smirked and started to circle wolfishly. " I think you're past help. The dark things that crawl around inside... the things you keep secret..." Sam flinched away from her. "But, it's okay, Sammy. Me and Dean? We got this. We don't need you, especially not now." She stopped and leaned forward, gripping him by his shoulders with crushing force. Her fingernails were like spikes, digging in painfully and he whimpered. "You're the family curse, Sam," she hissed. "It's been you all along, dragging us down, polluting the air we breathed..." her head tilted to the side and a strange, condescending smile grew on her lips. "You're just some unholy, blood sucking, demon screwing little bastard."
Sam felt like he had been struck. "No, Alex," he protested, tears in his eyes. "It wasn't like that, I just, I needed—" she slapped him across the face, her expression like stone. It stung so badly.
"Shut up. I'm tired of listening to your shit!" She walked off, leaving him stunned.
He closed his eyes, miserably listening to the sound of her footsteps echoing. And when he opened his eyes back up, he saw that someone else was there now. A girl, around age twelve. She had a plain, open face, wide eyes, full lips. Two messy braids and an old jean jacket...
"Alex…" he breathed, recognizing her. His twin sister when she was just a kid. She stared at him, her huge eyes full of hurt, betrayal, and disappointment.
The other Alex came to the younger one, putting her arm around the girl protectively. "Don't. You hurt her. You disappoint her. You let her down. She doesn't want you to talk to her." Alex's voice lowered a little bit. "She knows how dark you are inside. How dark you've always been."
Sam choked on his words, standing up, desperate for his twelve-year-old sister to stop looking at him like that. She only turned away, hiding her face. Older Alex looked at Sam with a superior expression, as if to say, 'see?'
Sam was getting desperate. "Alex, please! Help me! Stop just looking at me like I'm a freak show and do something!" He was grasping at straws. "If you can just, just convince Dean… I just need some time, some help… if you guys… can just help me! Why won't you help me?!"
Alex smirked patronizingly. "You know what, Sammy? It's kinda cute. You think we still love you. Think we actually wanna save you. Ah Sam. You sick, crawling little excuse. You're not a man." Sam's sadness retreated like a wave on the beach as she kept laying on insult after insult. She came forward, her face inches from his. Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. "You're a monster." The words were like another slap to the face and made his blood boil like acid. "A monster."
"No!" He shouted in rage. "I am not a MONSTER!" With an unintelligible bellow he lunged for his sister, angry enough to kill.
Outside the panic room peeking in through the latch, the real Alex couldn't watch any more when Sam ran into the wall, his arms and hands swinging around wildly, as if he were fighting and grappling with someone. He had totally lost it.
She shut the latch quietly and shuffled through the basement, too numb to know how she should react. She felt like she'd failed Sam. It never should have gotten to this point. She should have recognized that something was wrong. Now it might be too late.
Upstairs in the study, Dean was absently whittling a piece of wood, his expression rocky and absent. Bobby was nowhere to be seen. "Same?" Dean asked her tersely, not looking at her as she leaned against the door frame beside him with crossed arms.
"Worse." She let out a heavy breath, shutting her eyes for a second. When she opened her eyes again, Dean had stopped whittling and was staring ahead of himself unseeingly. "What are we gonna do, Dean?" Alex asked. Dean always knew what to do. When he said nothing, she shook her head ruefully, looking down at the floor in deep stress. "This is happening at the worst time possible."
A humorless smile turned her brother's mouth upward as he returned his attention to shaving more wood off the block in his hand. "Yeah. You said it."
Alex tried not to get angry at his nonchalance, but it didn't work. She was angry and she was scared. She came to stand in front of him, demanding his attention. "He might not live through this, Dean. You get that, right?"
He met her eyes with a little hostility. "Yeah. I get that." He returned to the work of his hands, ignoring her.
Not exactly thrilled with his attitude, Alex took a second. "Listen. I've been thinking." He wasn't gonna like this. "Maybe I should go get some demon blood."
Dean looked at her sharply. "What the hell for?"
"You know what for," she said. "Cold turkey is making Sam nuts. I mean, with some drugs, if you stop using, you die from withdrawal, and… and what if that happens here?" Alex used her hands weakly, gesturing emptily. "I just think, maybe, we can just give him some, work him off of it slowly—"
Dean stood up, tossing the wood and knife aside. "No. You hear me? No! Alex!"
"I want him to live!" Alex protested, almost in a shout, then let the silence hang in disbelief. "And so should you," she accused, her voice cracking. "So why the hell do you have a problem with that?"
"You want him to live? The way he is now?" Dean was beside himself. "Drinking demon blood, palling around with black eyed sons of bitches, exorcising all that's unholy with his freaky mind powers?"
The reminders quieted her. "Well, no, not like that, but…" she trailed off, realizing what Dean was saying, but she didn't want to believe it. Her head shook vapidly, a silent no. "You're really prepared to let him die?" She could believe she even had to ask.
"Yeah, I am, okay?" Dean replied gruffly, his voice rising in defensive anger, in hopelessness. "At least he would die a human!"
Alex was shocked into momentary silence. Her voice betrayed her inner turmoil. "I can't believe you. This is our brother. Your brother. This is Sam."
A muscle jumped in her brother's jaw. He didn't yell, he didn't rage, he didn't melt down. He shut his eyes for a second, his expression twisted in pain. He couldn't look at her when he opened his eyes. "I can't let him live like that, Al. I just can't. Like a… like..."
"A monster?" she asked faintly. He met her gaze, expression unreadable. Alex couldn't maintain the eye contact. She couldn't believe it had come to this. That Sam had done this to himself. That right now, Dean was prepared to let Sam die.
There was a tense silence, then Dean set his mouth in a thin line. "There might be one other option."
"What?" she asked immediately, desperate for a way out of this mess. But the answer was not what she wanted to hear.
"The angels." Alex felt her expression drop and Dean let out a frustrated huff, getting physically agitated. "Well what else can I do?" he demanded, already knowing that she wouldn't agree with his idea. He paced a few steps in front of her. "I'm backed into a friggin' corner here! What the hell else is left?!"
"I don't know!" She easily matched his elevated volume and emotion. "But we can't trust the angels, you know that!" She thought of Castiel and was filled with bitterness. It showed on her face, too.
"I don't like it anymore than you do," Dean said bluntly, "but I'm kinda outta options, in case you hadn't noticed." He looked at her intently, his eyes narrowing as if he'd just seen something. "What aren't you telling me?" He'd noticed how she was thinking of Cas.
"Nothing." Alex looked at him guardedly. "Just, if you're thinking Cas will help… he won't. Not like he used to." She thought back to the other night, the way he had been so clearly done. She felt a pang of despair and her gaze faltered downward. "He's changed."
"Everyone's changing around here, for the worst," Dean muttered. He rubbed the palm of his hand down across his mouth and chin, scraping the bottom of his emotional and mental barrel. Nothing else was said.
They could hear Sam shouting again, a muffled, panicked sound down in the basement.
That Night
How was it that this was the work of angels?
Castiel stood in the shadows of Bobby Singer's basement, his hand outstretched, freeing Sam Winchester step by step from the panic room. Just as he'd been commanded.
The angel ignored his instincts, reminding himself of what had been drilled into him: obedience above all. His job was not to contemplate outcomes or to give credence to the doubt he felt. It was to obey. So he obeyed, but not without the growing feeling of self-loathing. Obeying used to give him assurance. But today, obeying these orders—it gave him nothing but a store of dread and the feeling that he was doing the wrong thing. But how could it be wrong if it were the Will of Heaven? A troubling dilemma that wouldn't leave his mind.
Castiel broke Sam's bonds, but his stomach clenched. He unlocked the door of the panic room, but he swallowed deeply with a feeling of anxiety. Giving Sam this freedom would allow the final seal to be broken and then Lucifer would walk free, just as Heaven and the archangels wanted. Castiel felt dizzying amounts of negative emotion and conviction flood him; spirit, mind, and body. Was this right? Sam would probably die in this process, and not just Sam. Millions if not billions would perish following with Lucifer's return to earth. And yet Castiel had been told this was necessary. Still, a single question kept thumping through his veins to the rhythm of his sickened heartbeat: Was it right? Was it?
Sam came out of the panic room just as predicted. He looked physically drained, sweaty, sallow, and jumpy. He stole up the stairs quietly, his expression showing that he couldn't believe his luck. Invisible and silent, Castiel followed, watching Sam sneak through the dark house. It was his job to ensure that Sam Winchester escaped, as ludicrous as that sounded.
Sam passed through the study, pausing to look at Bobby, who was asleep with his head on the desk. Nearby, Dean and Alex were deeply asleep on the small couch. Dean had fallen asleep sitting up—an ancient looking book opened and forgotten on one of his upper legs. His head sagged down onto his shoulder, his arm stretched across the top of the couch lazily. Alex was opposite of her brother, a book under her head as a pillow. Her feet were tucked underneath her brother's leg. They had clearly fallen asleep trying to research something. Probably something to do with Sam, who continued out of the house after looking at his family with a somber gaze. The front door clicked closed softly as he made his escape without raising a single alert.
Castiel remained, having done his job. Dean let out a soft snore. Alex shifted and let out a soft sleeping sigh, her foot kicking toward Dean's torso. Bruises and cuts remained on her face, attesting to violence endured. Bruises and cuts he was forbidden to heal. An increasingly familiar feeling of guilt came over Castiel.
He thought that if Alex knew what he was doing, she would say what she had said to him several times now. You know better than this. Something's wrong. This isn't you.
She was wrong. This was him. He was nothing and no one, just another in the Holy Host; a creation God purposed to carry out His divine will and plans. Castiel wasn't who Alex Winchester imagined him to be, unfortunately. But one thing was certain: walking the earth in the body of a man was slowly tempting Castiel away from everything he'd held fast to before. He thought of what Anna had said to him, about how he could choose free will. The thought terrified Castiel, who had made his own decisions a few times recently and had been punished because of them.
Still… could he stand by and allow this to happen?
He shouldn't even be asking that question...
But the small and nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't stop whispering to him. This is wrong, it said. This is wrong, and you know it. An even stranger thought came to Castiel and struck him with quiet terror: Perhaps this wasn't him—perhaps he did know better. Perhaps this was wrong. But if those things were true, he truly didn't know who he was anymore—or what Heaven had become, either.
Full of denial on both counts, Castiel took leave of Bobby Singer's home. Even though his physical location changed, his questions and doubts followed… threatening to remain with him to the ends of the earth itself.
Almost Two Days Later
The Impala pulled up to the Saint Regis hotel, a swanky high-rise. Not the kind of place the Winchesters stayed… ever.
"There it is," Dean said, nodding toward the white Escalade with huge rims parked nearby. "Yup. Just like I said. He's here. Little bitch thought he could throw me off his trail. Well, I know him better than he thinks." Dean was unbuckling. "I'm gonna go in there and talk some sense into him. I bet you a million bucks Ruby's in there too. And I'm ganking her once and for all."
Alex unbuckled too, reaching for the door handle.
"No."
Alex froze, looking at her brother with a hard frown. "No what?"
"You wait here," he said, leaving no room for disagreement. "If I'm not back in ten… then you come in." She opened her mouth to argue but he held up a hand. "Just, shut it. Okay? This is something I have to do." He stared out the car windshield with a stony face. "Trust me. Stay here." He hefted the demon blade in his hand and grimly exited the car with just a brief glance at her.
Pissed off, Alex slumped down into her seat. She kept a watchful if sullen eye on Dean as he entered the hotel through the grand entrance—a large glass revolving door. When Dean got all my car my rules on her, she was never thrilled. Why the hell would he go in alone to confront Sam? What if he needed backup? A few minutes passed in which Alex became increasingly nerve-wracked, staring at the hotel. It had been almost ten minutes, hadn't it? She couldn't wait much longer. This was insane, him going in there by himself. Prick.
A flash of movement at one of the smaller side doors caught her attention. Alex startled, sitting up straight when she saw a familiar figure dart out: Ruby. The demon ducked around the corner of the building after throwing a suspicious backward glance over her shoulder. She walked beyond sight quickly, but Alex was already getting out of the car.
Sprinting toward the corner Ruby had disappeared behind, Alex edged up the building to peek around the corner cautiously. Ruby strode toward the back of the hotel, as if she were making a quiet escape. No Dean or Sam followed the demon, but Alex wasn't pausing to consider why. She was seeing red, and pure, enraged murder was coursing through her veins. That unholy bitch was the one who had done this to Sam and she was as good as dead.
Alex dashed across the maybe thirty feet between her and the unaware demon, her pulse pounding. As she closed in, Ruby heard her footfalls and turned halfway, but not in time. Alex was already there, ruthlessly grabbing Ruby by the hair and smashing her head with brutal force into the brick wall of the hotel, bruising and scraping her own knuckles in the assault. The demon was caught off guard, but not for long. Ruby grabbed onto Alex with a yell. Her grip was like a vice and she pushed, smashing Alex shoulder-first into the wall before backhanding Alex across the face. Too high on adrenaline to feel the pain yet Alex was already reeling her fist back, returning the favor and socking Ruby in the throat, hard. The demon stumbled back, dazed, and using the temporary lull, Alex snatched up a loose, fist-sized piece of brick in her hand. She practically roared as she struck Ruby across the face with it, once, twice, three times.
Grabbing blindly, Ruby managed to get two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and then threw her down onto the pavement, but Alex hung on, dragging the demon down too. There was a loud thud as the girls hit the ground, rolling. Alex still had the brick, and smashed Ruby in the side of the head with it, using the momentum of the scuffle to dominate and gain the upper hand. Alex straddled the demon, out of breath, murder in her eyes. Ruby laughed, showing the blood in her teeth. One of her eyes was already swelling up. "You don't have the knife, dumbass," she taunted. "What are you gonna do, beat my face in all day?"
"I don't need a knife, you bitch." Alex snarled, dropping the brick. "Exorcizamus te omnis—" Ruby's eyes went wide. Her hands shot up, yanking Alex down by the back of her neck, clapping the other hand across her mouth, trying to silence her, yanking her along into another roll so that Alex was now the one on the ground with Ruby on top. Alex bit down on one of Ruby's fingers, drawing blood and Ruby yowled, letting go for a second. "Immundus spiritus; omnis satanica—" Alex continued. Ruby clamped both of her hands down on Alex's throat with devastating, crushing force, making it impossible for Alex to speak, breathe, or make a sound. Struggling for air, Alex weakly grabbed her knife—a regular hunting knife—out of her belt loop, and with last-ditch effort she stabbed it into the side of Ruby's neck and yanked the blade forward, leaving a gaping wound in Ruby's throat.
Bleeding profusely out of the huge gash in her neck, Ruby stumbled up to her feet shakily, horrified with a hand on her neck. "You crazy bitch!" Alex opened her mouth to continue the incantation, but nothing came out. Her voice was only a whisper. Still, she stood up with Ruby's blood dripping down her jaw and neck as she panted. With her clothes ripped, her face and hands scraped and bruised, her dagger glare, her iron grip on her knife, she must have looked truly fearful—because Ruby withered, stepping back a little. The demon was barely recognizable from the savage beating and no longer looked confident, in fact, she looked afraid. Alex took a single step toward her… and Ruby turned and fled.
Alex thought about giving chase. But without the demon blade and without a voice to exorcise, it was a bad idea. Dammit. She stumbled into the hotel through a side service entrance, dodging curious eyes as she searched for the honeymoon suite where Dean had said Sam would be. She found the room quickly, a little lightheaded and feeling woozy, but pushing past it out of terror that Ruby had done something to Sam and Dean both.
The door of the honeymoon suite was half open and there was shattered glass on the floor, the room partition had been ripped in half, various other smashed and broken stuff littered the place. And there, on the floor by the bed, a sight that would never leave Alex's memories. Dean was on the ground, turning blue with Sam over him, his hands crushed down on Dean's neck. "Sam, stop!" Alex rasped in horrified shock, and what would-be shout was a sand-papery whisper.
She ran over and tried to get Sam off Dean. When she grabbed at him, he shoved her away carelessly. She staggered backwards, but was already fumbling back to him, grabbing the first thing she could—a fancy blown glass lamp—and smashing it over her twin's head, one thing in mind: save Dean's life. The shattered glass went flying in all directions and Sam stood up, staring her down with absolute hatred. He seemed so much taller than she ever remembered him being, so powerful and dark and his eyes flashed at her menacingly. She almost didn't recognize him and she shrank away, abruptly stricken with fear. On the floor, Dean groaned and wheezed, clutching his neck and gasping for air as he recovered.
"You shouldn't have done that, Alex," Sam thundered, bearing down on her so fast and hard that it almost seemed like he was about to hit her. It happened so fast. He swept into her space and even as Alex thought no, he wouldn't!—he did. He backhanded her ruthlessly across the face so hard that she fell in a whirl—colliding chin-first on the floor with a hard cracking sound. Alex was stunned and breathless, tasting her own blood as her face stung from his assault. She stared up at Sam in shocked terror, disbelief, breathless pain—petrified to stillness. Sam breathed hard as he looked down at her, hands limp at his sides. Horror wrote itself hard on his features. He stumbled a single step back from her.
"Sam! Wh—what have you done?!" Dean asked, his voice broken and high with disbelief. He'd rolled over onto his side, supporting himself on an arm. He stared at his brother with horrified eyes.
Sam looked back at Dean, and for a moment, his expression was pained, confused, lost. And then, it changed, growing cold and dark. "You don't know me. You never did. And you never will." Sam looked at Alex, his expression chilling over, his eyes dark and cold again. She stared up in terror as he stood over her, and for a minute she wondered if he was going to try and kill her, too. And then wordlessly, he turned, heading for the door.
Dean's trembling voice stopped him. "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back! You hear me?!"
Sam paused, his back to them. "Yeah," he said cynically. Without looking back at them he exited; the sound of his heavy footsteps against the carpeted hallway fading out.
Alex stared after her twin with blurry vision, the pain in her jaw and face making her dizzy. Sam—how could you? She heard Dean crawling over. He was wincing and his face was scraped up, bleeding in places. But his only concern was her. "Lemme see, sweetheart," he said gently, carefully examining her chin, her jawline. She couldn't look at him. "You okay?" He sounded close to a breakdown.
She bitterly spat out a mouthful blood. Her heart was heavy. She was losing her composure fast. "No. No," she rasped out. Her oldest brother pulled her into a tight hug as it really hit. Alex began to weep. They had just lost their brother.
Invisible to the grieving, injured siblings, two angels watched. Zachariah still had an arm out in front of Castiel who had been about to stop Sam from hitting his sister. His hands were clenched at his sides and his face showed a strong expression of conflict and dismay.
"This has gone too far," Castiel said lowly, watching as brother and sister embraced in mutual misery—both of them cried.
Zachariah clapped his hand onto Cas's shoulder, not concerned at all. "Let it ride, Castiel," he said breezily, giving Castiel a playfully pointed look. "This thing just has to run its course."
Castiel glanced balefully at his brother. He was truly beginning to disagree.
The more that happened, the closer Sam got to doing his part to raise Lucifer… the more Castiel despaired as his conviction grew: this wasn't right. None of it.
The Next Day
Alex laid still in the bedroom, the one she'd stayed in last year when she'd lived here with Bobby. She could hear Bobby and Dean arguing. Again. Bobby was insisting that they needed to go after Sam and talk him down. But Bobby hadn't seen what Sam did, he hadn't seen. The look in Sam's eye, the merciless, monstrous way he'd attacked his own blood. Alex hadn't slept at all last night after all that. Instead she'd walked miles and miles down the road in pitch darkness, not even going anywhere. She'd smoked cigarette after cigarette as she tried to understand what had happened. When Dean had realized she was missing and called her phone in a panic, he'd torn down the road in his car to come get her. But once he'd found her (seven miles from Bobby's house), they'd sat on the hood together and said next to nothing. Just watched the sunrise on the side of the road somewhere, maybe trying to act like it was a normal day for them, like their brother wasn't a homicidal demon-blood addicted psychopath.
They were back at the Singer residence now and the reality remained. Sam was gone and she and Dean had no idea what to do.
Alex sat up, catching sight of herself in the mirror of the bureau. She was given somber pause. With a puffy eye, a scraped, violet-bruised chin and a split lip—she looked like a battered woman. A dark bruise discolored her cheek—the place where Sam had struck her. The memory of it replayed and her throat closed in sadness. Her chin was scabbing from where he'd thrown her down and Alex ran fingers across the wound, wincing. It was still killing her, and her entire jaw ached. Whatever. Pain was nothing new. It would all heal eventually. Her eyes lowered to traverse the dark bruises all along her neck and throat from where Ruby had tried to choke her to death. Alex's voice was still barely there, a sad whispery rasping sound. Maybe in a few days when her windpipe healed she'd regain her voice's strength. For now, she sounded like she had laryngitis.
Overall, she found her appearance to be depressing. She bowed her head down and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Honestly, she felt that this was the end. The end of her, Sam, and Dean. Maybe the end of everything. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel on this one.
Alex studied her feet and sighed hollowly through her nose, feeling tired to her bones. And then without warning her feet were no longer on the wood flooring of Bobby's house, but on a shining marble floor. She jumped up in shock and realized she'd just jumped out of a chair, not her bed. Looking around she quickly became totally confused and afraid. She stood in a lavishly decorated beautiful room trimmed in gold. The walls were accented with austere paintings, marble statues, crown molding, and ornate solid oak furniture.
Dean was suddenly there too, appearing in front of her without warning. His mouth dropped open in confusion. "Whoa!" he exclaimed in a nervous whisper. "What the—"
"Hello, Dean. Hello, Alex." In unison, the disoriented Winchesters whirled to see Castiel at the other end of the room. "It's almost time."
"...Time for what?" Dean asked, standing a little closer to his sister as if to guard her. But Castiel disappeared without another word. Dean let out a low growl of frustration and marched toward the door, trying to open it—but it wouldn't budge. They were locked in.
Alex looked around sharply, assessing the room. "What did he mean, 'it's time'? And where the hell is this?" Her voice rasped weakly. Her veins raced with adrenaline.
Dean stopped rattling the door and turned. He lost his fire and seemed to suddenly understand what Alex still didn't. "What?" she asked urgently, feeling mildly panicked at the look on his face.
"I... gave myself to the angels, okay?" He looked at her with a hard, defensive expression as she stared at him speechlessly, eyes gone wide. "I thought…" he trailed off pitifully and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. "I dunno what I thought."
"You ga—Dean, what the fuck!? This is serious shit you're into!" More than angry, she was freaked out.
"I know, I know," he muttered, dodging her incensed stare.
"What does that even mean, you 'gave yourself to the angels'?!" Her strained voice cracked. "What are they gonna do with you?"
"I dunno. Apparently not HELP US!" He shouted the words 'help us' at the ceiling balefully, but no angels showed up.
Alex clenched her jaw tightly and looked up. "Castiel, get your little winged ass back in here right now," she all but growled. Not the politest way of asking him to come back, but she didn't care about being polite to him anymore. Not after he'd been such an asshole after the Jimmy incident. Two could play at that game.
Castiel appeared behind them, alerting them to his presence with a question. "What is it?"
Alex turned and marched right over. His face was stoic and rigid, set hard and seemingly apathetic. "Let us outta here," she demanded evenly, keeping her anger low key.
"I can't do that," he replied robotically.
Alex's eyebrows rose challengingly. "Can't or won't?" He made no answer and Alex wet her lips, getting ready to hand his ass to him verbally. She raised a lecturing finger at him. "Listen here you—" he disappeared rudely, and Alex stared at the empty space in front of herself.
"Good job," Dean commented sarcastically. "You really told him how it is."
Alex shot her brother a dark look. "Bite me." She looked at the painting next to her—it was huge and depicted an angel in flowing robes, extending a benevolent hand out over a child. What a crock of shit. She picked up a fancy blown glass vase and threw it at the painting, hitting the angel right in the face. Glass flew and the angel in the painting remained smiling, peaceful.
Dean was mildly amused at her useless action. "That helped."
"Fuck off." Alex plopped down into a plush chair and put her head in her hands. This was a nightmare. A nightmare. She rubbed her forehead, trying to make the headache go away.
"Hello, Dean, you're looking fit!"
Alex shot back up to her feet at the new voice. It was a tall, balding man with an oddly perky smile. He wore a suit. Behind him, Castiel stood with a blank face. Dean again moved quickly to stand near his sister—as if his physical presence could protect her against an angel.
The balding man looked from Dean to Alex. "And, Alexandra, is it? So nice to finally put a face with the name!" He chuckled, by all appearances friendly and pleasant. Too friendly, too pleasant. "I, am Zachariah," he said, indicating himself with a flourish. "You might have heard of me?"
Yes. She had, and she immediately felt apprehension. "Pleasure, I'm sure," she rasped flatly. Next to her, Dean tensed. Something was going down, but what was it?
Suddenly without warning, Castiel was no longer at Zachariah's side—he was at Alex's, and he took her by the arm. "Hey! What—" she protested, even as Dean tried to shove Cas away.
But then she and Cas were suddenly in a different room, completely alone. This one was a soft mauve color, with black gilded furniture and amber accents. It was dimmer in this room. "What the hell, Cas?!" Alex demanded in her strained voice, freaking out at the abrupt separation from her brother. "What's going on? Is Dean in danger?"
Cas had let go of her and was standing in front of her with his eyebrows knit together. "No. Of course not. Zachariah merely wants to discuss things with your brother. Private things."
Alex glared at him for a second, then looked around the room again. There were no doors. "Where are we?" she demanded. This was insane. "Why are Dean and I here?"
"For your safety," he said, and looked down purposefully, as if trying to hide something. "The final seal will be broken soon."
Alex's pulse rocketed upwards in alarm. "Then what the hell are we doing here?! We need to stop it!"
"No," Castiel said, shocking her. He sounded conflicted and looked down again. "We will not stop it."
"…What?" Alex looked at him in incredulous confusion. "Why?"
She didn't miss the flicker of doubt there in his expression, the way his eyes took in her bruised and battered face, but his voice held steady. He delivered his statement blankly. "It has been commanded," he replied. "Lucifer will rise."
For a minute she thought he was going to have a good explanation, but when he said that, she felt like she'd been hit by a ton of bricks. "Son of bitch," she breathed, feeling herself go slack jawed as she realized what was happening. She wasn't sure whether to be upset or terrified. "All this time you've been telling us how much we don't want Lucifer to come to town and now…?" She searched for words as she quickly got riled up. "Now you're making sure he does?!" Castiel said nothing. Alex looked at him like he was stark raving mad. "You're insane. Insane, all of you, you winged freaks!"
She turned away from him and took a couple stunned steps, lost in abject disbelief, mind racing to put the pieces together. It felt like the rug had been yanked out from underneath her feet. "I'm sorry that you're upset," Castiel's deep voice said from somewhere behind her.
She whirled, disgusted with his act. "Right. Cuz you care so much don't you?" She snapped hoarsely, letting anger propel her to him. "You know, I dunno what your deal is, but I mean, really? Pretending to be my friend? Pretending to care? Getting me to trust you? You're such a fucking liar!" She tried to shove him, but he was immovable. She hated herself for believing him. Had the angels assigned Cas to her and told him to earn her trust? Get her to fall for him, believe he was a nice guy? Was him healing her voice a way to do that? She was crushed, and it reflected in her voice no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. "Have you ever said anything true to me, ever?"
Castiel's expression changed at her question, showed stunned disbelief. "Yes, of course I have." Was that hurt resting in his eyes? Was that vulnerability lilting in his voice?
Alex was thrown off at his display of emotion but toughened herself. "I'm having a hard time believing that."
Again his features were swept by disbelief and confusion, as if he couldn't believe that she would accuse him of lying to her. His eyes went down and moved back and forth quickly in distressed thought. And then what he said next floored her. "I… I was going to tell Dean about the angel's plans to bring forth Satan." He looked at her directly. "It's why I was torn out of Jimmy Novak."
"What?" she asked softly, eyebrows faintly risen.
"It seemed wrong to me, the plan to allow Lucifer to rise. At the time I was… I was confused." He was still confused, and it showed. Confused and contrite. The way he was looking at her seemed pleading. "I never wanted to misguide you. I never wanted…" he trailed off. He glanced around the room, as if for eavesdroppers. He set his jaw, reverting to the harder exterior he preferred to display. "I shouldn't even be telling you this."
She could see it—just faintly—how Castiel wanted to help, was willing in some deep part of himself, but couldn't quite get there. The smallest instance of hope took hold of Alex, who stepped forward to him and spoke in intense, hushed tones, urging him to action. "Cas, if you knew this was wrong back then—if you were gonna tell Dean about it—why don't you do something now?! It's not right. We both know that!"
He shook his head no gravely, clinging onto whatever had been indoctrinated into him. "Try to understand," he said, but his voice lacked the conviction that had been there just a moment ago. "There's a bigger picture here."
"Is that what they're telling you?" Alex grabbed him gently by the arms, trying to get him to really look at her. "Cas, the apocalypse—it'll kill so many people. Aren't you supposed to protect people?"
Her words made him hesitate. "I'm supposed to carry out God's will." But it looked like he was questioning himself internally.
"How can this be his will?" Alex pressed. "Have you stood in front of him and heard him say with his own voice that this is what he wants?" Cas only met her waiting gaze with eyes that were intensely uncertain. Alex wanted to shake sense into him—why wouldn't he listen to reason? "You know this is wrong, I know you do!" she exclaimed, getting frustrated to the point of wanting to punch a wall. "I can see it when I look at your stupid face!" She let go of him, shoving again to no effect.
Castiel stood there in wretched silence, eyes low and glazed over in dejection. "What I feel is not important," he said hollowly.
Losing her fire, Alex's shoulders beginning to slump in fatigued defeat. "That's not true," she protested faintly. He looked into her eyes hesitantly. And Alex shook her head sadly, wishing he could believe that. "Just take me back to Dean," she whispered. Cas was too brainwashed and too afraid. He wasn't going to help them.
The angel was reluctant. "Not yet."
Alex narrowed her eyes. "What, are you holding me hostage or something?"
His ever-constant frown deepened. "No, of course not."
"Then let me leave." Her weak, sandpapery voice trembled with a fearful and demanding quality.
"I can't," he told her softly, and he had the audacity to look sad about it. She saw how his eyes traveled over her beat-up face again—the bruises, the swollen eye, the scraped-up chin. "Are you in very much pain?" he asked quietly, startling her because of the tone in his voice.
Alex tried to look stony. "Don't change the subject."
Castiel seemed to be vexed, puzzled, and empathetic all at once as he continued to study her beaten appearance. "Sam shouldn't have done this to you." His deeply husky voice was filled a sadness that Alex found offensive. "I am... truly sorry," he said, sounding as though he were admitting some big secret.
"Sorry for what?"
A muscle jerked in his cheek. "I could have stopped it."
His words paused her. "...So why didn't you?"
He thought about it for a moment as his face tilted down in somberness. He sounded ashamed of himself. "They told me not to."
What a damn pushover. Alex reacted by scoffing. "Aren't you supposed to be my guardian angel?" She gave him an ugly look. "Great job." Her words appeared to hit him hard, and chastened and ashamed of himself, Castiel looked down with contrition. It would have been better if he'd gotten angry at her—that's what she'd expected and wanted. His downcast eyes made her feel badly and she softened helplessly. "I didn't mean…" she trailed off, not sure what to say. How did he keep having this effect on her? She wanted to be furious with him for being so obstinate and naive... but all she felt was the urge to help him and to see him use his mind, do the right thing. So she tried again.
"Look. Anna said you've been struggling." She abruptly gave a little laugh that was equal parts helpless and cynical. "And I think it's because Heaven is full of shit and you know it!" Castiel didn't join her in finding the statement amusing in the least and her tense little smile faded into a pleading expression. It was a hard hit to her pride, but she tried appealing to him yet again. "You could help us Cas. It's not too late. Are you just gonna take orders even when you know they're wrong?" He said nothing, but he was thinking about what she was saying. She pressed. "Are you just gonna stand by when you could do something?"
His eyebrows were drawn closely and he shook his head slowly, his face working hard as he struggled to answer her. "It's not my place t—"
"It is your place," she cut him off vehemently. "You have a mind, so use it!"
His bright blue eyes met hers wretchedly and she saw how torn up he was. "I am an angel. I'm not allowed free will. I'm not like you."
He frustrated her to the core. "God you're a coward," she muttered angrily, then threw a hand out and let her voice get loud again—it rasped pathetically. "So what if it's not allowed?! If it's the right thing to do, you should do it!"
Cas was quiet for a moment, considering her words with a physically ill expression. "You make it sound simple."
"It is," she retorted, then promptly sat down onto the nearby velvet chaise in exhausted frustration. Clasping her hands between her knees and running her eyes over the scrapes there, she shook her head and swallowed thickly.
"Listen. Sam is my brother." Her cracked voice was just a whisper. She had lost her anger, and in its place was hopeless despair. "I love him. No matter what. And I wanna save him—more than anything. You can't understand that. You can't. Because if you did... you'd let Dean and I go save him from Lilith. You'd give us that chance. You'd help us." Dejected, she balanced an elbow on her knee and bowed her face into her hand. The tender, bruised skin made her wince and then make the softest little sound of pained protest. Son of a bitch her whole face was like a war zone. It hurt so bad. Honestly, she wanted to cry from hopeless frustration and the physical pain too. But she held it in, refusing to succumb.
Cas came and stood in front of her, then shocked her when he knelt down right in front of her. Hand falling away from her face, senses suddenly in overdrive—what is he doing?—she stared at him even as he looked up into her eyes with a soft, vulnerable expression. He was so close, and she felt keenly, suddenly vulnerable in a way she couldn't describe. It shocked her further when his hand came to the side of her face, an entirely unexpected action that Alex briefly misinterpreted as affection. She flinched, confused—then realized he was healing her.
The familiar bright light reached from his hand to inside of her, leaving her warm and comforted. His eyes held hers the entire time and Alex felt her face twisting into a questioning, almost fearful expression. Why was he doing this? His physical closeness left her buzzed. No one in the world had every looked at her as intensely as he did. Her body was stiff as a board of wood and she realized she was holding her breath as she thought about how powerful he was. He seemed so lost and unsure of himself sometimes that she just forgot. But right then, at that moment, she knew how magnificent and strong the angel was. His hand came away from her face—which no longer hurt, and in a daze she touched her cheek then her chin, finding smooth skin.
Puzzled, Alex gazed at Cas. "I… I thought you weren't supposed to do that," she said softly. Her voice had returned to normal and was no longer rasping or broken.
Her words changed his face. Cas stood up, his expression unreadable again. "I'm not." His jaw clenched barely perceptibly, he studied her tensely a second longer, and then said something that she hadn't expected. "You once asked me if I ever felt afraid." Eyes widening at the depth of emotion in his voice, Alex watched Cas show himself to her in a way that would haunt her mind for a long time to come. His voice softened in a way that made it sound like he was confessing. "That's how I feel right now."
Even as Alex's face lost all expression, he was abruptly just gone with a burst of wind.
She stood up, looking around with a slack jaw and hammering heart. "Cas?" She waited a second. "Cas!"
He didn't return.
An hour or so passed and Alex was alone for the entirety of the time. She paced the room restlessly after trying to break through a wall, which didn't work. She worried about Dean and Sam and chewed her nails, called Cas a few more times. No one came. Castiel took up major real estate in her mind the entire time. What was he? Really? She thought of the first time she saw him. She'd been terrified of this unknown and powerful creature who looked like an average man. Then as time crept onward, she'd learned that he was a soldier come to earth from Heaven. At first she'd thought he was emotionless and weird. He hadn't been someone to trust. But glimpses of an entirely different Castiel kept peeking through. A Castiel who was gentler and curious, compassionate. A Castiel who wanted to do the right thing and wanted the best for humanity. A Castiel who had of all things wanted her friendship. A Castiel who felt afraid. Not for the first or last time, she craved to know who he was—a maddening urge she couldn't quell.
She thought about how he'd said he was about to tell Dean about the Lucifer situation and how he'd been ripped out of his vessel as consequence. That was a pretty big move, wasn't it? She remembered the ripped-up manufacturing plant they'd found Jimmy in, the place from which Cas had been forcibly dragged back to Heaven. The more she thought about it, it was a wonder they hadn't killed or imprisoned Castiel forever for planning to tell them everything—wasn't that treason? To go against Heaven and the angels or whatever like that? He'd come back from Heaven even more robotic than she ever remembered him being… he'd acted cold and brushed her off. And yet here she sat today, healed by his hand. He cared. All of it pointed her to that thought over and over again.
Could he really stand by and let Lucifer rise? Let the apocalypse happen? If he cared, shouldn't that move him to action? What, exactly, was he afraid of?
Suddenly, as if knowing she were thinking of him, Castiel appeared to stand a few paces in front of her. Startled, she stood, her guard coming up immediately. He was reaching out to her. "It's time to return to Dean," he said, not explaining why he'd been gone or what was happening. Only holding his hand out, indicating that she take it. She hesitated, then did as he said. The instant her hand slipped into his, she felt them moving. But she was looking at their hands. And holding tighter to his for no real reason at all.
When she looked up, they were standing in the beautiful room that Dean was in. With his back to them, Alex's brother was holding his phone in the air, trying to get a signal. The angel and the hunter let go of each other's hands at the same instant.
"You can't reach him, Dean," Castiel said, announcing their presence. "You're outside your coverage zone." Alex looked at the angel oddly, given pause. Was that... a joke?
Dean turned, and upon seeing Alex, relief washed over his features. Then, a perplexed frown. "You're… all better." His eyes went to Cas appraisingly, then back to Alex, who was coming to him. "You okay?" he asked intensely, grabbing her by both shoulders, forcing her to look at him as he inspected her.
"Yeah, fine," she replied in a short tone. Satisfied, Dean let her go and proceeded to stare down Castiel. He was mad, that much was clear. He started in on the angel, sauntering slowly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Okay, first of all? Take her from me again and I'll kill you," Dean threatened casually. He gave a short little derisive chuckle. "You halos are really starting to piss me off," he said. "Zachariah's been in here talking my ear off about your big plans for good old Lucifer… am I right to assume you knew about all that this whole time?"
Castiel said nothing, but Dean seemed to get confirmation from the expression on the angel's face. Alex frowned. Why didn't Cas tell Dean about how he'd been about to tell them? He remained silent. "Yeah, good, right," Dean said, scoffing. "That's just great. Wonderful. So, what are you gonna do to Sam?"
Meeting his gaze, Cas lifted his chin slightly, appearing almost sad about what he was about to say. "Nothing. He's going to do it to himself."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel just looked away, silent. "Oh, right, right," Dean said scornfully. "Got to toe the company line." He chuckled, a humorless sound, then let the smile fall away. He stared at the angel balefully, lowering his voice to a soft, baleful tone. "Why are you here Cas?"
Cas looked at Alex, then Dean, his expression drawn with a sense of finality. "We've been through much together, haven't we?" His words, said with a wistfulness that spoke of a goodbye, stilled both Dean and Alex. Castiel held Dean's gaze pensively. "I consider having known you as a privilege." He looked at Alex more hesitantly. "An honor." The eye contact lingered so long that it began to get awkward. Finally, Cas tore his eyes away and looked at Dean again. "And before I leave, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry it ended like this."
So he was really going to go through with it. Screw them over then ditch out and leave them in the wind without help. Alex shook her head, silently cursing him, this room, her entire life.
Dean wasn't silent like she was. "Sorry?" he asked quietly as anger flashed in his eyes. Without warning, he drew back and punched Castiel in the face... who wasn't affected in the least.
Dean stifled a groan as he cradled his hand to himself. "You screwed us over, Cas," he thundered, stowing whatever physical pain he was in. "You need a bigger word than sorry!"
Castiel's voice rose too and his features worked emphatically. "Try to understand—this is long foretold," he said, using his hands in emphasis like a human would. "This is your—"
"Destiny?" Dean's anger wasn't his normal anger. It was desperate and scared and shaken. "Don't give me that 'holy' crap! Destiny, God's plan... it's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line!" Castiel's expression was unreadable, but Alex almost thought he looked offended. "You know what's real?" Dean was becoming almost emotional now. "People. Families—that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?" Dean swept his arm out, suddenly indicating Alex, who stood by the table in the middle of the room. "You're gonna let her burn?" He jabbed a finger to his own chest. "Me burn? After you saved us both?!"
Castiel looked rattled. "I—I'm trying to tell you," he fumbled, like he was trying to call to mind what he was supposed to say—not what he wanted to say. "Much must be lost so that there may be everlasting peace for us all."
"That what they drill into you at bible camp?" Dean retorted sharply. Castiel's gaze faltered tellingly. "Yeah, you can take your peace…" Dean growled, "and shove it up your ass!" Cas's eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked at Dean once again. "'Cause I'll take this miserable existence called life—with all its craziness and pain and guilt and drama; I'll even take Sam as is! It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise." Dean's voice raised to a gravelly shout. "This is simple, Cas!" The angel turned away, maybe unable to take it. But Dean didn't stop. "No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it." From where Alex stood, she could see the side of Cas's face. He looked conflicted and at that moment he glanced at her, maybe thinking about how she'd told him pretty much the same. That he knew better.
"Look at me!" Dean demanded as he grabbed the angel's shoulder roughly, turning Cas back to him. "You were gonna help me once, weren't you?" At that question, Cas looked away from Dean quickly. "You were gonna warn us about all this, before they dragged you back to bible land." Dean swallowed, his tone becoming pleading and desperate. "So… help me—now. Please. Help us."
Castiel's shoulders were stiff and his face was pinched. He looked at Alex for a long beat, considering. And then he looked at Dean. "What would you have me do?"
"Take us to Sam!" Dean exclaimed urgently. "We can stop this before it's too late!"
The angel's voice grew more urgent, too. "I do that, we will all be hunted—we'll all be killed." He looked at Alex meaningfully, maybe to appeal to Dean's protective nature. Alex drifted closer, drawn in by the rising tensions.
Dean shook his head earnestly. "If there is anything worth dying for... this is it."
Slowly, Castiel began to shake his head no, hesitating. And hope was crushed for Alex and Dean in that moment as Cas lost his courage and looked down in denial. "I can't," he said gravelly.
Dean's face went cold in anger. "You… spineless… soulless son of a bitch." He walked a few steps off toward Alex, then past her. She could tell he was at the point where he was seeing red. "What do you care about dying, anyway?" Dean muttered. "You're already dead."
"Dean—" Cas appealed.
Dean just barked "I'm done!" and kept his back to the angel.
Castiel was now looking at Alex in a mixture of hopefulness and fear. As if he wanted forgiveness, as if he wanted one of them to pat him on the back. He approached her, his expression intense. "You must understand. I cannot assist you. I must obey."
"Yeah. Whatever. That's your decision to make."
His head tilted slightly to the side, he frowned. "You're not going to try to convince me?"
"Again?" Alex looked at him for a few seconds. She was sad and didn't bother to hide it. "You shouldn't need to be convinced, Cas. You should look at this situation and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you're playing on the wrong team. That you're not serving God, you're serving some power-tripped out angels who have their own sick agenda." He looked almost disillusioned, like he expected her to go crazy, shout, and cuss him out. "Cas, I won't stand here and beg you." She gave him a pointed look. "I know how that ends." She was bitter and let her face twist up into a mean expression. "So… have a nice day. It's been real. Thanks for fucking up our lives. Thanks for making me think you might be different." His mouth was open ever so softly, his eyebrows knit closely. He had some nerve looking so hurt, trying to play the victim. And Alex didn't know why she felt hurt too. She had to fight herself tooth and nail not to show how deep the wound went. "If you're not gonna help us… just go away. Leave us alone."
Castiel looked at Dean, whose back was still turned to him, then at Alex, who wouldn't look at him. And without another choice, he left with the softest sound of wings against air. Alex's eyes shifted to the spot he'd been and her hard expression fell. She shut her eyes bitterly as her tight shoulders slumped down. "He's gone," she told her brother softly.
Dean turned around, expression rigid. "There's no way out of here. I tried."
"Yeah, I know," she said, having tried in the other room she'd been stuck in. "This is bullshit." All but defeated, Alex sank down onto the love seat, leaning over her knees, exhausted. "What now?"
Dean was pacing in front of her. But unlike a minute ago, there wasn't angry fire in his steps. "The end of the world, I guess." He paused, eyes downcast. He looked tired, exhausted, and over it. Like her.
Alex let out a heavy, bated sigh. "We tried, Dean."
He sat beside her. "Not hard enough," he said softly. In that moment, he looked so much older than he was.
Alex attempted a small, pained smile. "At least we're together?" His attempt at a smile as pained as hers was. He put his arm around her, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, and they stayed like that for a long time, mourning the loss of Sam in silence.
Dean paced the length of the room yet again, having become a nervous wreck of angry energy. Alex didn't miss the fact that he was eyeing the burgers on the table as he passed by it repeatedly. He paused suddenly, reaching for one. Alex sat up straighter. "Hey. Don't eat that!"
He turned and looked back at her grumpily. "I'm starving," he protested. "We've been here for hours."
"Just don't."
He threw the burger down angrily. Suddenly Castiel appeared behind Dean, grabbed him by the shoulder, and shoved him up against the wall, pressing a hand against his mouth. Alex jumped to her feet in alarm at the sudden appearance and action. "What are you doing?!"
Castiel looked at her, his expression deer-in-the-headlights but determined. "The right thing."
Oh my god—her heart burst in amazed hope. He was gonna help them. Stunned, Alex watched as he drew Ruby's knife out of his coat. He looked back at Dean, who nodded. Castiel let go of him and slashed his own arm open with the knife. Blood flowed out, and Castiel began smearing it onto the wall. Alex, now beside Dean, watched in a mixture of rising hope… and fear. Castiel was working fast and he looked afraid. And when an all-powerful angel was afraid, it didn't seem right to not feel a little scared, too.
"Castiel!" came a loud shout. It was Zachariah, and he barreled across the room at them, livid. "Would you mind explaining just what the hell you're doing?"
Castiel made a final stroke onto the sigil he had drawn and slammed his hand into the center of it. In a violent, blinding flash of white light, Zachariah vanished, leaving the Winchesters stunned. "He won't be gone long," Castiel said, his voice tinged with urgency. "We have to find Sam now."
"Where is he?" Dean asked.
"I don't know—but I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."
At that, the Winchesters both glanced at each other in confusion. "But Lilith's gonna break the final seal," Dean protested, his tone accusing.
"Lilith is the final seal!" Castiel exclaimed, blowing their minds. "She dies, the end begins."
Dean and Alex stared at him in horror, trying to process the information as he grabbed each of them around the wrist. "Now, hold on."
Instead of the beautiful room, the three of them were now in the dim interior of an untidy house. Alex recognized the disorderly home even before she saw Chuck, who was on the phone and oblivious to their arrival.
"Okay, well I'll take twenty girls for the whole night," the author said, pacing away from them. There was a pause and he chuckled. "Lady, sometimes you got to live like there's no tomorrow—" he turned around and saw that he wasn't alone. His cheeky grin fell into a shocked expression. "Whoa whoa!" he protested, looking at the three of them with wide eyes as the phone drifted down away from his ear. "Wait. T-t-this isn't supposed to happen!" He lifted the phone back to his ear, speaking into it again. "No, lady, this is definitely supposed to happen, but I…" he gulped, looking at the new arrivals awkwardly. "I gotta call you back."
Chuck ended the call and smiled sheepishly at Alex, Dean, and Castiel. "I…" he started, even as Alex swooped in and snatched the phone from him, tossing it.
"The world's ending and you're ordering hookers, Chuck?"
Chuck shrank underneath her gaze. "I uh—look, t-that's not important," he said, chuckling self-consciously and dodging the question. "What are you guys doing here? You're not supposed—"
"Where is Sam right now, Chuck?" Dean asked, crowding the author.
Chuck was nervous at Dean's physical intimidation and began to back up toward the kitchen. "Well, he's uh, he's—"
"Where?!" Dean demanded impatiently, grabbing Chuck by the front of his bathrobe roughly, forcing him to stay put.
"Saint Mary's, Saint Mary's, Jesus Christ Dean!" Chuck exclaimed, then looked at Cas with a worried expression. "N-no offense, Cas."
A sternly confused look was on the angel's face, who had followed Alex and Dean in backing Chuck up into his own kitchen. "None… taken."
"Saint Mary's? What is that, a convent?" Dean asked urgently. Every spare second could stand between them saving Sam and being too late.
"Yeah, it's a convent, but you guys aren't supposed to be there," Chuck insisted. "You're not in this story."
"Yeah, well…" Castiel stood a little taller, even though his expression showed trepidation. "We're writing a different ending."
Both Dean and Alex looked at him in surprise when he said that, but for Alex, she wasn't just looking at Castiel. She was seeing him in new light—really seeing him and feeling a sense of pride. He felt her gaze and he turned his head to look at her as she stood beside him. Who are you? Alex wondered for the hundredth time, more intrigued than ever as she studied this angel who walked the earth in the body of a man… this angel who was jumping ship to risk everything with them. He'd said that he was her friend once. She believed him now. Wordlessly, she patted him twice on the back of the arm, silently telling him that he was okay with her. Those spellbinding eyes sought hers out. Wondering. Contemplating her the way she contemplated him.
And that was when they heard a strange rumbling. Outside the dark window, a light suddenly beamed bright as the sun, even as a ringing sound that could shatter glass began to pierce the air. Alex clapped hands over both of her ears in response to the deafening sound. It only got louder and louder. The ground began to tremble violently and the house began to vibrate like it was about to come down. The kitchen cabinets fell open and plates and mugs began to tumble out, shattering on a floor that was increasingly hard to stand on. Chuck held onto the kitchen counter as Dean took a huge stumble backward. Alex lurched sideways and felt Cas steadying her. "It's the archangel!" he roared.
Dean stumbled toward Cas, confusion and fear filling his face, and Alex grabbed for her brother, helping him stand even as Cas held her in place too. "I'll hold him off!" Castiel shouted over the crashing dinnerware. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!" He abruptly clapped a hand on Dean's forehead and shoved, then Dean disappeared from in front of Alex's eyes.
Shocked, she looked up at Cas, who was the only anchor keeping her from falling over as the house shook. The light was growing even brighter, and the sound was absolutely deafening—Chuck was freaking out somewhere behind Alex even as Cas let go of her. His eyes met hers for just a second, and from the way he looked at her, it was like he already knew he was dead—he offered the saddest, smallest smile—and even as the word wait tried to form in her mouth, he hit two fingers to her forehead, sending her away to join Dean.