Song Remains the Same

by R. W. Winters

For Alex Winchester, normal has never been in the equation. Mute since the nursery fire, she grew up on the road chasing ghosts with her brothers and father. When her voice is inexplicably restored and the angel Castiel appears claiming to be her guardian, both of their lives change forever in ways that Heaven and Earth never expected. Castiel/OFC. Sisfic - S4-9 - Alternate Ending.

22. This Our Mortal Life

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 22 / This Our Mortal Life

"God only cries for the living 'cause it's the living that are left to carry on."
- Diamond Rio

---

The Next Morning

Beep, beep, beep… the sound faded in as Alex slowly came out of a deep and dreamless sleep. She groggily opened her eyes halfway, for a second not remembering where she was or what had happened—and then she saw the hospital room ceiling above and felt the uncomfortable pressure where IV needles were shoved into her arms. A dull throbbing pain emanated from the palm of her hand where stitches criss-crossed. And with these physical pains as a reminder, she recalled yesterday. And the days before it. Whatever peace she'd had while asleep was immediately gone.

"Good morning, Alex," came a deep, husky voice. Startled, Alex snapped awake, sitting up halfway then cringing as her body complained. Castiel stood beside the hospital bed and his ever-present frown softened as their eyes locked.

"You're... still here," she said clumsily, both a question and a surprised comment.

Alex heard a soft, familiar snore at that moment and realized that her brothers were there. Sam was in one of the corners, his giant body crammed into a hospital chair, an elbow on his knee and his face propped awkwardly on his hand as he leaned into the wall. And on the other side of the room Dean slumped down uncomfortably in another chair, head awkwardly hanging back as his mouth gaped widely.

"I don't think he meant to fall asleep. He was very irritable last night."

Of course he was. Alex glanced at Cas, feeling bad. She could only imagine. Lately it had been nothing but mood swings and authoritarian rampages from her oldest brother, who was under increasing stress and didn't seem to know how to handle it any other way than to rip into his siblings (anyone else who dared get in his way). That, combined with his general weird attitude toward Cas more recently—well, it had all probably come to a bit of a head yesterday. And sure, it didn't help that Castiel had just spirited her away to a hospital without a second word to Dean, but for God's sake, her brother was really being a nightmare lately. She had to wonder how exhausted Dean had to have been to fall asleep with Cas standing there—or maybe Cas had left and just returned a few minutes ago… she frowned and cocked her head to the side, looking at Cas intently. "Have you... been standing there all night?"

His answer was simple and immediate. "Yes. I watched over you."

A shiver of warmth raced over her. And the silence that hung seemed to demand she say something, anything. But she literally felt that she'd forgotten the entire English language. Couldn't think of a single damn thing to say. An eloquent "Oh…" escaped. Then the angel surprised her again by drawing in a deep breath, simultaneously sitting on the edge of the bed as his eyebrows knit together in a thoughtful, troubled expression. Alex was frozen, helplessly noticing how close he was. The end of his trench coat bunched up over the top of her thigh.

Pensive, he looked at her intently, oblivious to her sudden inability to breathe deeply. He was so close, and that look on his face was heart-stopping. His troubled eyes searched hers in silence, then fell away. "Seeing you in torment was…" his eyes flicked back to hers, "unbearable to me."

Her chest tightened. Their eyes remained locked and the air in the room thinned. Cas's forehead wrinkled deeply as he waited for her to say something... but she was completely speechless. He had said it almost as if he were asking her what to do about it. And it was clear that he had been thinking about it long and hard—waiting all night to tell her after gathering the courage and trying to decide how to say it. Alex swallowed. He was basically confessing that her pain affected him on a level that frightened him. And that, in turn, scared her—because… what the hell did that mean for them, exactly? He looked down at her hand where it rested on the bed—and his hand moved slightly where it rested on his knee. Alex's pulse jumped again. Was he thinking about touching her hand? His eyes jumped back to hers again, waiting, anxious. She remembered what 2014 Castiel had told her: that he'd wanted to kiss her that night under the stars, sitting on the porch. Right now, Alex could believe he was thinking about it. Or maybe that was just her.

He'd seen Gabriel fling painful memory after painful memory at her, tearing her down piece by piece. Somehow Cas had broken the divide and come to her in one of her most terrifying moments. And without a second thought, she had reached for him and he hadn't turned her away. He'd quietly held her and anchored her in the middle of the storm of pain. As she looked at him right now, she didn't know how to tell him what that had meant for her. She felt like she shouldn't confess it at all. It was too revealing of her innermost feelings—feelings that instinctively felt wrong to have. The things she thought of him alarmed and tempted her at the same time. She had never felt these things about anyone else.

Right now as they looked at each other wordlessly with bated breath, she wanted it again so badly: just to be inside the warmth of his arms again like yesterday. He'd wiped tears from her face, the gentle and seemingly tender touch of his fingertips scarred into her memory forever. He cared. Much more than she had imagined or understood. Was 'cared' the right word?

Beside her, his hand left his knee and inched forward toward her hand. Was that... was he doing that on purpose? Because when he looked at her in this way, holding her locked in a gaze, searching her eyes, his hand inching toward hers, everything inside of Alex screamed that he must, he must feel what she felt too—his fingertips gently hit up against hers on the surface of the bed, the faintest touch. Alex's eyes were big and staring into Cas's in breathless uncertainty. What are you doing, Castiel?

There was the sound of stirring to their left and the moment was suddenly over, their gaze breaking and hands jumping apart, but not before they realized Dean was awake. "The hell… what time is it?" He seemed cranky and groggy, but was quickly becoming alert. Cas stood, and even as Dean got out of his chair, there was a glare on his face aimed at the angel. "You're still here?" The question was kind of hostile, and Alex was surprised at how Dean just automatically went there.

Cas, however, didn't even blink. "Yes."

Dean stared pointedly for a second, then gestured at the door to the room, rudely demanding, "Well you wanna give us a minute?"

Cas looked at Alex briefly, then to Dean, frowning a little, then, under Dean's scowl, he somewhat grudgingly stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.

Alex looked at Dean, upset. "What?"

"Was he here all night?" Dean demanded, ignoring her question, his eyes narrowed as he pointed an errant finger in the general direction Cas had just gone.

"I don't know," Alex lied immediately, feeling a twinge of guilt the second she said it.

Dean looked at her in a very intent, judgmental way she didn't like, and she scowled back, a lot more pissed off than she was letting on. He came a little closer, towering over her, arms crossed. "So you wanna tell me what went down in Trickster Land?"

She gave him a full-on glare, tired of his crap and enraged that he was acting this way after everything she'd been through yesterday. "No. Screw off."

"Excuse me?"

She grabbed the TV remote and switched it on, not looking at him. No reply either.

Dean stood there a second, ready fight with her. A million sarcastic comments and retorts ran across his mind, all perfect for pissing her off and hurting her feelings and putting her in her place. But even as he thought that, he kind of did a mental double take, realizing that geez, she was in the hospital and had been put through hell yesterday—he wasn't even really sure about what exactly had gone down, all he had to go on were some vague details that Cas had mentioned. Dean stayed silent, stewing even as he realized that he was being a douchebag. His nerves were bad lately. Real bad.

Dean's mind turned to someone he didn't mind picking a fight with. The guy who had taken Alex, zapped off with her, and not even let Dean know where to. The guy who had spent all fucking night there in the same room with her and was even sitting on Alex's bed staring at her intensely when Dean had woken up. The warning he had given himself in 2014 screamed through his mind anew like a blaring alarm, danger, danger!

Dean left Alex's room and barged out into the hallway, looking both ways for the angel in question. Cas was a few doors down, looking into a patient's room through the open door, staring curiously at the flowers at the patient's bedside. Dean marched toward him, every freaked out, scared shitless thought compelling him forward.

He hadn't thought much of the warning he'd given himself in 2014, not after asking Alex about it a month ago—it had sounded absolutely ridiculous—junkless dweeby Cas and emo awkward Alex, a couple? He would find it funny if it wasn't starting to legitimately worry him. When he asked her about it when they got back, she'd smacked down the idea immediately, which had effectively sent the worry packing in Dean's mind. Until yesterday.

The image of Cas holding a woozy Alex up fleetingly passed over his mind's eye—the sight had freaked him the hell out; both bleeding and battered and clinging to each other in a way that seemed too personal. He'd remembered his words to himself in 2014, when he'd warned about Cas being Alex's death sentence.

He thought again about how Cas held his sister. It unsettled Dean in the deepest way possible, but he'd tried to tell himself it was nothing, tried to believe the best of both his friend and his sister, but was still left wondering when the hell this had happened. He hadn't gotten any vibes from them, and realized maybe it was because he hadn't been watching close enough.

The scene he'd witnessed when he'd woken just a few minutes ago flashed across his mind again: his sister propped up in bed, Cas sitting on that bed, entirely too close to her as they gazed at each other, their expressions so intense and disappearing the second they realized Dean was awake. Cas, standing up, as if trying to hide something. All of it was setting something off inside Dean, some raging fear that everything he'd warned himself about was true, was possible, and maybe already happening.

Dean had reached Cas in all of ten seconds, his jumbled, chaotic thoughts making him physically shaky. He roughly grabbed the angel by the shoulder, demanding his attention. "Okay, Cas, you tell me right now—what the hell is going on with you and my sister?"

Cas seemed perplexed by the sudden assault, looking at Dean's hand with a disapproving frown. "I'm her protector."

"Yeah? What, you don't have a thing for her?" Dean pressed angrily, not letting go of Cas, instead grabbing a fistful of the trench coat covering Cas's shoulder.

The angel's head tilted slightly to the side in perplexed bewilderment. "What kind of… 'thing'?"

Dean was disgusted, impatient with Cas's stupidity. "You are such a pain in my ass," he griped through tightly clenched teeth, and then his voice raised into a near shout, and he shoved Cas slightly with the hand that gripped his shoulder. "Like, a romantic thing!"

At that, Cas's expression darkened, and he stepped further into Dean's space, voice lowering as he grabbed Dean's hand off of his shoulder and pushed it away, his superhuman strength overpowering Dean's attempt at resistance easily. "You should watch your tone with me," Castiel almost growled. "I have tolerated your disrespect toward me for a very long time, Dean. I have proved myself again and again to you. Why are you angry with me?"

"Because in twenty-fourteen, I found out you're the one who gets Alex killed, okay?" Dean spat out, and there it was, out in the open.

Cas went completely still, his face screwing up in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, apparently," Dean said sarcastically. There was general horror on Castiel's face, an expression Dean hadn't seen there before.

"Why didn't you mention this when you told me everything?" Cas asked, sounding genuinely upset. Dean met his demanding gaze haltingly. He'd taken the angel aside when Cas had checked in a couple weeks ago and told him, in general terms, about 2014, but he hadn't exactly known how to bring up that little part about Alex. He also hadn't really seen the point, because he had honestly believed it was a bunch of weirdo crap, mostly, until yesterday and today. At Dean's silence, Cas relented, his face softening. He touched Dean's shoulder gently, imploringly—the same shoulder that held the angry red handprint Cas had burned onto him in Hell. Dean looked at him harshly as Cas spoke. "It can't be true, Dean. You know that I would never let her die," Cas reasoned, but he sounded unsure, as if he didn't know what to believe. He took his hand off of Dean's shoulder.

"Well it wasn't exactly in your control anymore, was it, Cas?" Dean asked bitterly. "You weren't an angel anymore, remember? You were a friggin' human, and twenty-fourteen me warned me me to keep you two apart."

Cas shook his head, either not understanding, or flat out refusing. "We can't be apart, I'm her guardian angel." Dean's expression darkened as Cas continued. "I've been charged to watch over her for her lifetime."

Dean laughed humorlessly, seeing the irony right away. "If memory serves, you were also charged with being obedient to Heaven, and I don't see you following that little rule anymore."

Visibly caught off guard, Cas was momentarily silent, almost guiltily so, and Dean looked at him in superiority. Then, Cas raised his chin, face neutral again. "Dean, I promise you. I will never let harm come to her."

"Then why is she in a hospital bed right now, huh Cas?" Dean raged. "'Cause you did such a damn great job protecting her yesterday!"

Hurt shimmered across Cas's face before his eyes lowered in shame. Dean regretted his words, just a little bit. But then even more when Cas spoke, not looking at Dean. "I suppose I did fail her. And you. I couldn't rescue any of you from Gabriel. He was too powerful for me. Especially now." His eyes flicked up, pained, and Dean knew he meant now that he was cut off from Heaven. "I'm deeply sorry, Dean."

Dean had to clench his jaw to hold back his annoyance that Cas had just made it so much harder to be angry with him. He relented, remembering everything Cas had ever done and how much he owed the guy. Truth be told, Dean was tired of being angry at everyone. In fact, he was beginning to feel kind of desperate. But he couldn't admit to that. He took a deep breath, trying to reconcile his anger and suspicion to how much he liked and wanted to trust the angel. "Listen, Cas, buddy. I appreciate everything you've done for us. I do. I'm just—up against a whole hell of a lot, you know?"

"Yes. I do know," Cas replied, surprising Dean. "That's why I'm trying to help you." He looked at Dean meaningfully, tinged with guilt. "It's the least I can do. After all we've been through together."

Dean couldn't hold his gaze. He let out a heavy, guilty, ashamed huff of air. Why was every damn relationship in his life like this? Full of angry fights and guilt that never let go. It was exhausting. It felt terrible. And Cas was right—they had been through a lot. It was easy to forget that this angel had raised him from Hell. Restored Alex's voice. Saved their asses multiple times. Defied Heaven and died for them. Dean looked at Cas grudgingly, feeling like an ass.

Maybe he was reading into a situation that wasn't even there at all. Cas hadn't answered him, exactly, about Alex. But was it because Cas didn't even understand that possibility? Didn't understand the question because it was so unfathomable to him? Maybe the things Dean had been upset by—the way Cas had held Alex, the way he'd been gazing at her in the bed—maybe he was overreacting and just misinterpreting it. Cas was a pretty intense, unaware, awkward guy, right? And hell, to a passerby, the way Cas had touched Dean's shoulder a minute ago could have been misinterpreted. Dean really wanted to believe it was as simple as that. But after the warning he'd given himself… after everything… he would never be able to let it go completely, and he knew that. Today, he needed to just drop it instead of allowing this wavering allyship to break apart. Cas waited patiently for Dean to speak again, watching him somberly.

Dean shook his head and shrugged. "I'm sorry man. It's just, you told me once that all roads lead to the same destination, that destiny can't be changed. So, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do? Just let you and Alex pal around, become best buds and then whatever else? That's me signing her death certificate, if twenty-fourteen me was telling the truth. Can I take that chance?" Cas's eyebrows moved together just slightly. "Sammy and Al, man. They're all I got. I can't lose them, Cas, not after everyone else. And I just saw a future where they both die. So the only option left is to fight like hell to make sure that never happens."

Cas was empathetic, once again surprising Dean. "I understand."

Dean looked at Cas fully, letting himself be real for a just a moment. To sound the way he felt. Broken and scared and desperate. "Do you still believe it, Cas? That fate, destiny, whatever, can't be changed?"

Cas met his eyes with a grim hesitance, a muscle in his cheek jumping, his brows furrowing. "Truthfully... I'm not sure anymore."

Dean went still, scrutinizing Cas intently, unsure why the answer struck him as oddly ominous. Maybe it was because for a flicker of a second, he wasn't sure if Cas were telling the truth or not.

---

Later That Day

The TV had been off for a while now. Silence just sounded better. Alex stared out the hospital window from bed. She couldn't really see anything out the window except some tree branches. Sometimes, squirrels ran along the limbs then stopped, beating their tails in the air before darted onwards. She watched idly, lost in thought.

Dean had come back and shaken Sam awake. He'd apparently run Cas off, because the angel never reappeared. Maybe that was for the best, but it made Alex feel sad. She had wanted him to stay. He'd probably show up again in a week or two like he always did. In the meantime, she'd be left to her own devices... second-guessing everything, as usual.

She thought about Cas reaching out to touch her hand. Thought of it over and over again.

Sam and Dean stayed with her for a while, but it hadn't exactly been the Brady Bunch. They'd sat around in tense silence, watching TV halfway, ignoring the elephant in the room. Sam tried asking her at one point if she were okay, implying he wanted to know what had happened—but she told them she didn't want to talk about it. After that they left, saying they were going on a supply run, and then Sam texted to let her know they were grabbing lunch too and did she want anything. No. She didn't.

Alex was using the opportunity of solitude to mull over everything that Gabriel had put her through. In truth it all seemed kind of like one of her bad dreams. But her pain? That had been real. And Cas, he had been real. The way he'd held her… that had been real.

More disturbingly, the memories of her family had also been real. She wished they weren't. She'd pushed the ones she remembered away on purpose. And the ones she'd never seen before, well. They hurt on an entirely new level. Made her feel like she couldn't trust anyone ever again. But underneath the strong desire to bash their heads into a wall and leave then never come back… she refused to let herself think like that. Because she had become deeply suspicious, after some thought, that maybe Gabriel was playing an angle where he wanted her to fall to pieces over all this and break the brothers apart so they would 'play their roles.' He had said he did all that crap to her because she was like him and she needed to see the truth. But she really didn't buy that. She refused to be tricked. And he did call himself the Trickster. But that didn't make sticking with her brothers any easier after feeling betrayed, rejected, and lied to by them.

She heard an increasingly familiar sound—Cas arriving, and she looked away from the window, startled out of her thoughts. He stood there at the foot of her bed, his hands clasped behind his back. That was new. "Hello, Alex."

"Hi Cas," she said, glad to see him back (surprised, too). He looked handsome as always, solid and comforting.

"I came to check on you," he said, which made her hide a smile. He glanced around the room. "Where are your brothers?"

"Went to go get food."

Cas didn't ask after them further. He had fixed her with an expression that was something like hopeful or uncertain, but also nearly excited. "I… have something for you." He came to the side of the bed, and his expression reminded her of when he'd been so proud of himself for remembering the pinky promise. "I noticed other patients, in other rooms, had flowers…" From behind his back, he produced a little bundle of yellow wildflowers. He held them out to her and she felt her face go slack when she saw a bad little twine knot held them together. She was suddenly incredibly upset. Cas was saying, "I found them in a meadow right in the middle of a highway—"

Alex couldn't look at him. Yellow wildflowers, tied in a shitty knot, just like Cas had left on her grave in 2014. Cas stopped mid-sentence. "What's wrong?" He looked at the flowers in his hand, almost alarmed. "Are they the wrong kind? Is this an inappropriate gesture?"

Alex tried to compose herself, but it didn't really work. "No… they're, they're, very nice, t-thank you."

All the times she'd been in the hospital, she'd never been given flowers. Now, she felt emotional for different reasons. She was genuinely touched that Cas saw other patients with flowers and she should have some too. Then had gone out into a highway median and picked her some damn wildflowers. Cas looked positively devastated as his eyes went from her face to the flowers uncertainly.

"I... don't understand—I thought you'd find them pleasing," Cas said, fumbling, and growing more confused by the second. His distress made Alex feel even worse. "Are they... the wrong color?"

"No," she said, half to herself. She saw a wooden cross etched with her initials, flowers just like these sitting there at the base. "They're... the right color." She reached out and took them, in a trance.

He was mystified at her comment that they were the right color, but the moment was interrupted as Dean and Sam walked through the door. "What're you doing here?" Dean asked, not exactly friendly, but not as rude as earlier, either. Alex had quickly dashed away the expression on her face. Dean hadn't noticed, too busy giving Cas the evil eye. But Sam was looking at his sister intently, eyebrows furrowed.

Cas seemed to take Dean's question as a 'get lost' because he straightened and told Dean, "I was just leaving. I still have much work to do tracking down this demon Crowley." He glanced at Alex, then back at Dean. "I'll be in touch." He disappeared.

Dean looked at Alex, not exactly short on attitude. "Nice flowers."

"Why are you being such an asshole?" Alex asked pointedly.

"Because it's a Monday," Sam quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. He got a snide glare from Dean.

"I'm not being an asshole, I'm looking out for you," Dean reiterated, addressing Alex gruffly. "Future-me told me Cas is the reason you died, remember?" He made a face and threw his hands up. "Sorry for caring."

"They're just flowers," she grumbled.

Sam looked at his brother sidelong. "Dean, to be fair, do you really think that was a real future Zachariah showed you two? I mean—"

"I'm not taking that chance," Dean said, cutting him off sternly. "On either of your lives. Okay? So call me an asshole, I don't care." His pissy expression and general attitude didn't really convince the twins, who looked at each other at the same time, as if to say 'yeah, sure.'

Sam visibly pushed aside the retort he was holding inside and looked at Alex, clearing his throat. "Uh, so listen, we stopped and talked to the doc. They wanna do psych eval in a few minutes."

Alex's eyebrows shot up high and then she began sitting up in the bed. "Oh, forget that." She ripped the IVs out of her arms even as both of her brothers gaped, Sam kind of springing forward, arms outstretched, trying to stop her, but it was already too late.

"The hell are you doing?" Dean demanded like she'd lost her mind.

"I don't need a shrink asking me twenty questions about my life and my brain!"

She shoved her shoes onto her feet unceremoniously, and Sam's plea of "Stop, Alex—" fell on deaf ears.

"I'm fine," she pretty much spat out, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side and the lightness in her head. "Let's go. Before they figure out the health insurance stuff they got from me this morning was fake."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, kind of grudging to admit that she did kind of have a point… and besides, Alex was already at the door. She looked back at where the wildflowers Cas had brought her had been forgotten on the bed. She glanced at Dean, who was watching her closely. Without much other choice, she turned and walked out, leaving the flowers there. Taking them felt like a loud exclamation of how much she was beginning to feel for Cas. And she didn't want anyone to know.

---

Twenty Minutes Later
Mama Q's Diner

Dean shoved the plate of pancakes and sausage at Alex, who was practically glaring at him across the table. "Eat it."

"I'm not hungry, Dean, I told you."

She didn't appreciate this. But Dean was set on her eating something and had ordered her a huge breakfast plate and kept pressing. "Just eat it, will you?" he barked, losing whatever patience he'd had. "You need your strength!"

She was getting angrier by the second. "Stop telling me what to do!" At this point, she wouldn't eat even if she were hungry, just to spite him. Sam glanced between them uncomfortably as Alex pushed the plate back to Dean slowly, purposefully, her voice dripping with attitude. "I'm fine. Just stop it, Dean. Everyone, but especially you, need to stop acting like I'm about to break in half or like you can boss me around all day long."

At that Dean smiled in superiority, leaning back in the booth casually, knowing exactly how much that would piss her off. "So, Gabe really got to you, huh?"

He wouldn't have that stupid, smug smile on his face if he knew exactly what that all entailed. "Yeah, he did, okay Dean?" Alex replied angrily, and his smile disappeared at her brash tone. She scowled at her brothers across the table. One was giving her the 'I don't understand' puppy dog eyes. The other was giving her the threatening 'make me understand' glare. And Alex was outraged, her anger driven by the things Gabriel had showed her about them yesterday. "Gabriel, Trickster, whoever he is, showed me some messed up stuff. Made me do some pretty messed up stuff."

"Yeah, Cas gave us the Spark's Notes last night." Dean's word choice and asshole tone got an even more agitated glare from Alex.

"Well thanks for your concern," she said, to which Dean just rolled his eyes. Alex could have punched him in the frigging mouth.

Sam leaned across the table, intent, concerned, and focused on his twin—polar opposite of Dean. "What happened, Alex?" he asked gently. "What'd he show you?"

Alex glanced at him fleetingly, kind of dodging his inquisitive, caring stare, her rage ebbing off a little. She felt exposed and sad suddenly instead of pissed. "You don't wanna know," she answered quietly, looking down at her lap.

"Oh, we don't?" Dean challenged.

"Dean—" Sam said, giving his brother an exasperated, pointed look.

"Shut up Sam!"

Alex's furrowed brow returned as she leveled Dean with an angry stare, her hackles raising. "Don't talk to him like that, Dean!" He seemed surprised she was standing up to him again, but Alex had just had it with the shitty attitude, the domineering crap, and the bullying. "God—what is your problem?" she asked, disgusted. "You wanna know so bad about the absolute hell I went through? Which part, Dean, the part where Dad showed up and tried to kill me, taunted me, tortured me? Or the part where I had to kill Sam in cold blood? Or the part where you dug a knife into my chest?" She pointed at the place where gauze was taped to her chest. "Or maybe you wanna know about the shitty memories Gabriel made me go through again. Or the fucked up shit you two did and thought I'd never find out about." Sam looked especially nervous at that statement, but Dean looked unsure, like he couldn't imagine what she was talking about. Alex was like a train going full steam, no possibility of stopping as she levelled Dean with a hurt, angry stare. "I saw you telling Dad I was only gonna get in the way of that last hunt he went on. You begged him to leave me behind because I was gonna hold you back." Dean looked startled, and Alex gave him a facetious, betrayed little smile.

She turned her attention to Sam who looked pained by association and a little nervous because he knew he was next. She couldn't muster the same fiery, lecturing tone. When she spoke to him, she sounded more heartbroken and confused than anything else. "And Sam. Like, twelve years old and straight up lying to some kids and telling them I was disabled and asthmatic and that I wouldn't wanna play football with them… then coming over to me and then lying to me, saying the kids didn't want me to play. I mean, what the hell? Why?"

Sam looked positively shocked, and in quick succession, guilty. Dean was mystified and unsettled. Alex chuckled sardonically, momentarily getting dark satisfaction out of seeing them squirm. "But guys, that's not even the best one. Picture this, right? Sam, like, killed some kittens in an alley—ripped them to shreds, and Dean was there too, you guys wanna explain what the hell that was?"

"That—" Sam stumbled verbally, horrified. "I—you have to believe me. I don't understand how it happened, or why. It was almost like I was possessed."

"But you weren't," Dean said, giving Sam a harsh look. "I checked." Sam looked chastised.

Alex studied Dean piercingly. "Dean, you knew about that all these years and never told me. Why?" He gave her a disbelieving look, like she was crazy to even suggest that.

"Because you were a damn kid, and a pretty friggin' fragile one at that, don't you think it would have, uh, like freaked you the hell out to learn your brother was like doing serial killer crap behind motels?" He almost seemed to think it was funny at this point. "Why would I ever tell you, huh? At any point?"

Alex leaned forward, unamused—she had thought about this all morning long. "Because I could have told you that Sam would never do that. Use your brain for two seconds, Dean. Sam loves animals. Dude was the biggest pansy in the world about blood and guts growing up." Sam was absolutely shocked at the turn his twin's words had taken. "I mean, the whole thing is super freaky. Super, super freaky." She frowned, not looking at anything in particular. "But... it's not quite right. I mean... what if that memory isn't even real? Did either of you consider that?"

They both sat back a little bit, their faces giving away the fact that obviously they hadn't. "But who could have done that?" Sam asked hesitantly. "And more importantly, why? That makes no sense."

"But it does make sense," Alex said, believing it herself, getting intense. "Think about it. Maybe it's the angels trying to screw with us, or demons, even. Trying to turn us against each other. It wouldn't be the first time they've messed with our heads. They're twisting things to their advantage."

Dean snorted, his momentary intrigue gone. "Come on, Al. That'd be nice to believe it didn't happen, but from where I'm sitting, it sure as hell did. I was there. It's not like the glove doesn't fit—Sam's got a dark side, and we all know it." Sam's jaw tightened at that thoughtless comment, but he said nothing, letting Dean continue his tirade. "Sam's the demon blood junkie. The one who set freakin' fires for kicks."

At that comment, the twins exchanged a terse look and then Alex looked at Dean long and hard. Sam's gaze dropped into his lap and he remained silent. Alex wet her lips and clasped her hands on the table, looking Dean dead in the eyes reluctantly. She should have known this day would come when she'd say these words aloud. "Sam wasn't the one who started fires, Dean. That was me."

Dean stared at her, completely blindsided. "What?"

"Yeah." This was something she wasn't proud of.

Dean wheeled on Sam, turning himself physically to stare at his brother. "You covered for her?"

Sam returned his brother's stare, not backing down. "Yeah Dean, I did."

Dean was confused. He looked back at his sister, still too shocked to be pissed off. "You wanna tell me why?"

She remembered the thrill of watching flames devour objects. It had started with balls of paper and scraps of cloth. And then, daring herself, she progressed to bigger items. Once, she set a library book on fire, then wondered if everyone would think she were a hero and an amazing person if she secretly started a fire, let others see it, then put it out herself, making it seem like she saved everyone. Maybe she would be liked then. In cautious pursuit of this idea she'd started fires in school bathrooms and libraries and one time, even the cafeteria, but always alone, not brave enough to really burn anything big or that could get out of hand. She remembered Sam, finding her several times and freaking out and then when the Wrath of Dean showed up... he'd told Dean he'd done it. To this day Sam had never told anyone the truth. He'd kept her secret.

Dean was currently staring at his sister waiting for an explanation. She shrugged briefly, embarrassed. " I dunno." She paused, realizing the irony. "Maybe I'm dark inside too." She thought of the monsters they had faced, the things they had done in the dark, things they wanted to forget. She glanced at Dean, the man who had tortured souls in hell and confessed he'd enjoyed it. "I think maybe we all are," she said cynically, and for a moment, the table was silent and somber. After a moment digging for bravery, Alex caught her twin's eye. "Sam, you covering for me like that meant a lot. It really did." There was a temporary lull in which the twins looked at each other anxiously, all their childhood closeness remembered mutually. And then Alex continued. "But… we gotta talk about that lying, manipulating crap. You made it seem like those kids didn't want me to play… you lied straight to my face. And I get the feeling that wasn't the only time. 'Cause I remember you telling me stuff like that a lot. That the other kids didn't want me around or didn't want to play with me." She almost didn't want to know the answer to her next question. "How often did you do stuff like that?"

His reply was small. "More than I should have."

Alex shook her head slowly, heartbroken. "But why?"

Her twin almost looked at the point of tears now, barely able to look her in the eye. Even Dean looked like he was dreading the answer. Sam struggled. "It's not that I didn't want you to have fun—I just thought—in a weird way, that I was keeping you safe, because I mean, kids did make fun of you. They called you horrible stuff, and maybe some of them might not have, if I gave them the chance to let you into their circles, but—I hated to see you hurt. I still do." Sam drew a deep breath. "And, also, I just—I just wanted you to look up to me." His jaw tightened. He was clearly ashamed. "I wanted you to love me like you loved Dean. And you loved Dean because he did protect you, and he did made you feel safe, he comforted you when you were sad..." At Alex's hurt expression, Sam shook his head, humiliated. Dean put an elbow on the table and scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand—his guilt and frustration and disbelief palpable.

But Sam wasn't done. "And it's so stupid. I don't know, it's like I just figured out a way to make you like me more, depend on me more, and I did it. It was pathetic, it was crazy." He put his head in his hands and stared at the tabletop. "God, I really am a psychopath."

"No, you're not," Alex said passionately, because she knew exactly what he meant—how freakish and stupid he felt for his mistakes—she knew that feeling intimately. "I mean, we're all messed up, okay? How could we not be? I mean, we barely had a parent—Dad was gone, constantly. We moved, constantly. Everything changed except the three of us. And maybe we were a lot more dysfunctional than we thought, and I mean, we already knew we were dysfunctional, but..." she trailed off, looking at Sam, who was visibly waiting for her to tear into him. "Sam… you didn't have to do all that stuff to get me to love you. Me loving you is… always just a given."

Sam said nothing. He looked broken and touched at the same time. Silence stretched out. "God, Sam," Dean said finally.

Sam looked at his older brother in earnest, broken sadness. "I know. It was stupid. I know. But I lived my whole life in your shadow, Dean. I mean, Dad loved you the most because you were the most like him, and I always felt second or third best."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in genuine wounded surprise. "Are you kidding me? You were Dad's favorite, Sammy. You were the most normal one of us, like with good grades and a nice little future—no matter what I did, Dad just…" he trailed off, his eyes ghosting over years of pain. "I always disappointed him." Dean looked directly at Sam, pushing past his inner demons. "He didn't see you as a failure, okay?" There was a self-deprecating smile playing on Dean's mouth. "That was me."

"Dean," Sam appealed, "Dad might have been hard on you, but he loved you, and you know he did. I was the odd one out, or, at least, that's how I felt." He looked miserable. "I was jealous of you both."

Alex looked at him like he had two heads. "Wait… I get why you might be jealous of Dean, but me, too? Me?"

Sam didn't meet her gaze. "You and Dean were always so close, it's like I was an outsider in my own family. I felt like a freak no matter where I went."

Dean irritably crossed his arms, half rolling his eyes. "Oh my god. Well boo hoo. We're all pretty much freaks at this point, why do you get to bitch and moan about it?"

Sam looked at Dean with some hostility but waited a second before replying, keeping himself calm. "I just know I wanted a life outside of hunting and paranormal crap and you all gave me hell for it." He was stone-faced. "It was like I was damned if I did, damned if I didn't. Sometimes still feels that way."

"So why are you here now?" Alex asked softly, sort of dreading the answer.

Sam did one of those little airy laughs, trying to cover up his real feelings. "What else is there for me? Every time I try to have a normal life, it falls apart. It doesn't work. I guess I'm meant to do this. Even if I don't really want to all the time." Dean had the audacity to look somewhat hurt. Sam backpedaled a little. "Don't get me wrong. I know it's important. I know that."

Dean huffed at Sam, his angry fire gone, replaced by darkness. "But if your heart's not in it… why bother?"

"Because you guys are in it," Sam said earnestly. "Yeah, I spend half the time being annoyed and pissed off with both of you, but at the end of the day… even though I'm not so sure about the rest of everything else in life… you're my family." He shrugged a little, grim. "Also, I kinda raised Lucifer. So I need to put him back down."

"We," Dean corrected tersely. "We are gonna put him down. Family affair."

"But—" Sam started.

"You know the drill, Sam," Dean cut him off. "We stick together. Even if everything in the damn universe is trying to tear us apart. We've tried to do it separately and it never works. So that's not gonna fly anymore." The brothers fell silent. It wasn't a comfortable silence.

Alex had felt hopeful a minute ago that they were going to reconcile something here. But they were pretty much back where they'd started. And that was an exhausting way to be left feeling. "You know, it's like everything in our lives—angels, demons, even the three of us—are working together without even realizing it to tear us apart and turn us against each other," she said. Dean's expression was insolent and Alex looked at him dangerously, daring him to say something. "Gabriel was trying to tell me that I should just give up and let this whole thing happen, walk away from you guys. Kept going on about how I didn't have a part to play… but, you know what?" She paused then spat out, "I don't accept that. He gave up on his family. Well, that's his problem." She grabbed the untouched plate of now-cold pancakes and sausage, yanking it to herself. "Even if you are fucking insufferable," she muttered. "Fate, prophecies, screw it." She stabbed into a sausage link with her fork, not even sure what she was trying to express at this point. A stilted silence commenced, and then with an exasperated huff, Dean got up and left, presumably headed to the bathroom. Sam watched him go then switched to watching his twin silently for a minute as she ate angrily.

"Hey, so…" he ventured. She chewed her sausage, eying him guardedly. He pulled out a bent out of shape bundle of yellow wildflowers from his jacket pocket, and she stopped mid-chew. "You, uh, forgot something." Alex stared blankly at the flowers, then at Sam, who shrugged. "Got the feeling you didn't want them left behind." He said nothing further. But there was genuine care and maybe even understanding there.

She took the flowers from him slowly, touched by the kind gesture. A soft, hesitant, surprised smile was on her face. "Thanks, Sammy."

He returned the smile, but guarded sadness remained. Alex looked at the wildflowers pensively and put them in her jacket pocket before Dean came back. She looked at her twin closely, wondered if he had any clue what those flowers meant to her.

---

One Month Later
Bobby's House

"We're about to go in now. If you don't hear from us in the next couple hours, then you come," Dean's voice said in Alex's ear.

"I should be there with you guys right now," she replied into the phone sullenly.

"Well, just didn't work out that way, did it?" Dean asked, then didn't give her a chance to reply. "Talk to you later." In other words, conversation over.

"Yeah, fine."

They hung up.

This was a crazy idea—stealing the Colt from some kind of crossroads super-demon, this Crowley guy. And crazier still that Alex wasn't there with them. It almost seemed too convenient how Dean and Sam had gotten the heads up on Crowley's location and how Alex had gotten left behind. She wondered if it were purposeful. Ellen and Jo Harvelle had joined them at Bobby's a couple days ago, ready to help take down Lucifer, and they had been happy to have them. It was obvious to Alex that Dean liked Jo a lot, but really, did he have to take Jo in what felt like Alex's place? After the whole memory about Dean telling Dad Alex would just slow them down, it added insult to injury to feel replaced, even if it were just for one day.

Dean had just been acting weirder and weirder ever since Alex got out of the hospital, freaking out over her safety, losing his temper more and more frequently and with less provocation. He hadn't really been doing the same to Sam, which irritated Alex and made Sam uncomfortable. Sam had even said something to Dean about it in Alex's defense, then gotten verbally bitch slapped.

The thing about it all was they had known the location on Crowley was coming at any time—Cas had been tracking the demon for the past two weeks. Earlier that very day, Alex and Bobby had gone into town on a supply run, leaving Sam, Dean, Jo, and Ellen behind. When they got back, everyone but Ellen was gone. And then Alex got a call from Dean, saying they were already an hour away, that Cas had called with the location of Crowley, and that they were just going to go ahead and go. Without her. Naturally, she'd loved that. It smelled like a setup to her, which is why she was feeling so crappy right now.

She'd been stuck here all day as Ellen and Bobby spent time shooting the shit and laughing about days gone by—which kind of upset Alex, who was worrying about demons, angels and her brothers, who were probably going to get themselves killed trying to get this damn Colt. She'd skulked around the house all day, trying to busy herself—fiddling with her shotgun (cleaning it three times), sweeping the kitchen, beating on a punching bag, having spur-of-the-moment target practice with some especially loud crows in the salvage yard, switching on the TV (and hating everything on there), trying to reorganize Bobby's pantry. She gave up on that after a while. She wasted time all day, her anxiety level creeping up as time went by. Around sunset, she got the second call from Dean, the 'we're going in,' call—and that had been about forty minutes ago. So now, more waiting. Alex felt like a caged animal, restless and pissed off. She was pacing the study now, listening idly to Ellen and Bobby in the other room. An abandoned whiskey bottle and a couple of shot glasses were on the desk where she'd left them.

She turned, pacing the short length of the study again. If Dean had left her behind on purpose, she was seriously going to strangle—she bumped into someone and she never finished the thought.

Cas's familiar face was in front of her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Cas!" She hadn't seen him in two weeks. As usual, his sudden appearance caught her off guard.

"Hello Alex," he greeted neutrally, all business. "Your brothers have the Colt and are on their way here. They should be here in about twenty minutes."

"They got it?" Alex asked, relieved but also a little surprised.

"Yes. Apparently Crowley just... gave it to them," Cas said. "And told them where Lucifer will be tomorrow. It's not far from here." And that's when she saw the signs of suspicion and apprehension on his face, which counteracted the relief she'd felt a second ago. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but behind her, she heard a voice.

"Who's your friend, Alex?" Ellen leaned against the door frame, smiling with a beer in hand.

Ellen probably already knew who it was, but Alex humored her, if impatiently. "Ellen, this is Cas."

"Ah, the angel—heard a lot about you." Ellen sauntered forward, sticking her hand out for a shake. Cas complied, remembering how. Alex smiled, watching him do it with a confidence she was proud of. "You must've seen my daughter Jo if you were just with Sam and Dean," Ellen said conversationally.

"Yes, the blonde one," he said dismissively.

The older woman chuckled at that comment.

"Ellen, get your ass in here! I can't reach the damn top shelf," Bobby complained from the kitchen. Ellen rolled her eyes in good nature.

"I'm comin', old man." She left.

Alex plopped down into one of the chairs at the study desk, motioning for Cas to take a seat opposite. She leaned forward over an arm, intent on getting some answers. "Okay, Cas, so why would Crowley just give them the gun? And tell them where the devil is gonna be tomorrow?"

He sat opposite of her, still distracted. "Apparently he wants the devil dead as much as we do," Cas said. "Dean said Crowley claims that if Lucifer succeeds, he will obliterate demons." He paused, dismal. "Well, after he annihilates the human race first, of course."

Alex blinked. "Well." What did you say to that? "Can't let that happen."

He glanced at her sort of grudgingly. Alex wondered why he seemed so distant. Maybe she'd hurt his feelings when he'd presented her with flowers. The whiskey bottle nearby was looking better and better. Alex grabbed the bottle decisively.

"You know what? I think we could both use a drink," she said, pouring two shots. Cas looked at her questioning as she pushed a full shot toward him. "It's time for you to try some of the good stuff," she told him, holding her shot glass up in the air. He hesitated, did the same uncertainly, watching her for guidance. Alex clinked her glass up against his then demonstrated by lifting it to her lips, throwing her head back, and then slamming the shot glass down onto the desk. She grimaced against the sweet burn that made her muscles softer and more relaxed. She motioned for him to do his.

Cas didn't look enthused, but he raised the shot glass to his lips and just like she had, threw his head back, downing the amber liquid. His face was pinched and he held the glass in the air for a second, then remembered the last part and slammed it down, parroting her. He made a disgusted face and Alex bit her bottom lip, trying to hold in a laugh. "It tastes revolting." He gave her a perplexed look. "Why do you drink this?"

Alex shrugged, pouring another round. "Makes you feel better."

"Feel better than what?" he asked.

Her amusement faded. "Than normal." She raised her shot glass, a little perturbed by his question. "Bottoms up."

He took his shot up in his hand grudgingly, and they downed the shots at the same time. Alex thunked her glass down onto the desk and hissed. "Feel anything?" Cas shook his head. What a shame. "Hey, they have whiskey in Heaven? 'Cause if they don't, I'm not going." She grinned—that was funny. But he took her question seriously. He'd gently set his shot glass down even as she poured another shot.

"It would depend on the soul. Heaven isn't how the human mind traditionally imagines it. It's not one place. I suppose you could explain it as being a series of heavens. Each soul has its own heaven, an eternity that reflects that person's spirit."

"...So Heaven's not some shiny mansion in the clouds?"

He seemed faintly perplexed by her question. "No."

"Everyone gets their own."

"Yes. Well. Some souls share a heaven, but that's extremely rare."

She felt her eyebrows raising and she neglected to slam the shot glass down. "What, like soul mates?"

His blue eyes met her hazel ones. "Yes."

Softening, Alex's voice was just a surprised murmur. "...I thought soulmates were made up."

Castiel's face took a turn toward—what was that? Amusement? Fondness? "Yes, and you also said angels didn't exist not long ago too." There was a softness to him that struck Alex.

She didn't mean to, but she let out an embarrassing little laugh. That was a sweet thought. And it raised even more questions. "So if Heaven is some celestial melting pot of tiny heavens… where do you guys hang out? Do angels get heavens of your own?"

Cas grew harder to read. "Angels aren't privileged to have personal heavens. We share a communal space, I guess you could say."

Alex felt a prick of interest. He sounded like he were talking about an office. "But Heaven's home, right?"

"Home," he repeated, testing out the word. It seemed like he hadn't ever considered that. "Well. It's the closest thing there is for me, I suppose."

Alex searched his face. The dimness of the room, the whiskey, the things she felt about him... it all allowed her to finally manage a very true thought to him. "You look sad sometimes."

Cas met her gaze readily. "I am sad sometimes."

Her heart flew to him, and she didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." And she was. All she knew how to do was offer another shot. "Well, remember what I said about whiskey making things better?" She poured him more and handed it over, even as the thought crossed her mind: maybe she shouldn't be teaching him to cope with his feelings this way. She watched Cas take another shot and she sank into clouded thoughts and fears, then quickly excused herself, saying she was going outside to get some air. Cas watched her go, a look on his face that she missed. It was almost like longing.

Outside, Alex contemplated the inky scenery and leaned against the weathered porch bannister, worry gnawing at her stomach. A minute later, the door opened and Bobby rolled out in his wheelchair.

"You okay, kid? S'going on with you?"

She stayed vague. "End of the world blues, I guess."

"Yeah, that'll do it to ya," Bobby commented, a rueful little smile hidden under his beard.

Alex glanced at him sidelong, sentimental feelings rising despite herself. This man, her quote unquote uncle (more like the dad she'd never had) meant so much to her. Especially now that she'd seen him stand up for her in that memory Gabriel showed her. She'd always known it. Bobby really, really loved her. And now she would never, ever doubt that. She remembered their months together when Dean died. Yeah, they'd had their little spats and hadn't exactly gelled immediately—different hunting styles and all that—but he had been there for her without question. He'd let her lean on him when there was no one else in the world left to depend on. He'd bought little Hostess Cupcakes for her when she'd been sick with a cold. Handed them to her and muttered, "I know ya like these, so, uh, here." It made her smile even now to think about.

He'd been there for her when she was a kid, too, more than he really realized. Some of her best memories were with him. Maybe it was because he'd always taken genuine interest in her. When she'd been with him she'd felt like she mattered to him. And that feeling was irreplaceable. She smiled, thinking of her favorite memory. "Do you remember…" she reminisced aloud, "that time you took me to some kind of stupid princess puppet thing at the library… and we both hated it so much that we left halfway through?"

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I remember. Then you asked to go to the shooting range instead." He had this little smile, just for her, as he said, proudly, "That's my girl."

Alex could feel her heart swell in her chest. She breathed deeply, maintaining her composure. And after a minute, she looked at him again. She had to let him know—she might never have the chance again. "Uncle Bobby... I've really never told you, but… um... I just..." she didn't know how to word it without sounding sappy. It was just gonna have to sound sappy. "Some of my favorite memories are right here, in this old house. With you."

He looked at her, obviously deeply touched. But he did have a gruff reputation to upkeep. "Now don't you do that. Don't do this last night on earth speech crap to me, Alex Winchester." His grizzled face twisted up. "I'll kick your ass if you die tomorrow, hear me?"

Alex's mouth curved into a lopsided smile. "Loud and clear, boss."

Bobby sighed out long and hard, as if in defeat. "Ya'll are the kids I never had." He reached over and put his hand on her back. His eyes were soft and kind and Alex felt her heart grow a size as she put a hand on his back, too. A familiar sound met their ears, and they turned to see the Impala's headlights cutting through the dark further down the driveway. "Good," Bobby said, turning to business mode again, "those idjits are finally back."

Alex watched the car approaching, her feelings turning to worry and dread again. "Do we actually have a chance at this, Bobby?"

"Guess we'll see, won't we." He sounded as uncertain as she felt.

Sam, Dean, and Jo got out of the car. Jo had been sitting in Alex's seat. Jo grinned at them as she loped up. "We got it," she announced, looking like she'd won the Olympics.

"I heard," Alex replied, looking past her and at Dean, who was purposefully ignoring her gaze

Bobby wheeled himself back inside the house and Jo held the door for him then went in after. Dean followed them inside, glancing tersely at Alex for the briefest of seconds, but ignoring her otherwise. Sam brought up the rear. The door slammed behind Dean and Sam stopped, looking at Alex. "Hey," he said. "Sorry you got left behind. It really wasn't intentional."

She looked at him crankily. "How'd you know I'd think that?"

He grinned crookedly at her. "Come on. Twins?" He put an arm around her and guided her inside.

Inside, Ellen had latched onto Cas in the dining room and had set up rows of double-shot shot glasses. At Alex and Sam's arrival, Cas looked up at them. "We're playing a drinking game," he told them.

"Ellen, I don't think you're gonna win this one," Alex chuckled.

From the study, Dean's voice bellowed. "Sammy!" Sam frowned and let go of Alex, who took a seat next to Ellen. Jo sauntered over to them from the kitchen, a bottle of beer in hand.

Ellen picked up a shot glass that was in front of her and drained it, then put it upside down next to four other empty ones. She challenged Cas with a smile playing on her lips. "All right, big boy."

Cas looked at the woman and then reached for the first shot glass—downing it then setting it back upside down just like she had—then did the same for the other four in rapid succession. Ellen and Jo looked highly impressed as he did so, and Alex, sitting back with arms crossed, had a secretive smile on her lips as she watched.

He set down the fifth shot glass, and paused. "I think I'm starting to feel something," he announced, eyes bright.

Ellen grinned at him. Beside Alex, Jo poured a shot and then put it in front of Alex, who shook her head. "Uh, yeah, no more for me. I'm definitely feeling something." She pushed her shot glass at Cas, indicating he drink it too. He took it, downed it, waited, then shook his head.

"Actually, I don't think I am feeling anything," he said regretfully.

Alex kind of chuckled. "You'd probably have to drink a whole store I guess."

"Sounds ill-advised," he said. And then he realized she was joking and allowed a smile to cross his face.

"Yeah, a trashed angel is all the world needs right now," Jo said, grinning at him widely. "But hey, why not?" She poured him more whiskey. Cas looked at Alex, who silently gazed back at him across the table. He had been away from her almost two weeks, and at first when he saw her again, he had been guarded. He still didn't understand what was happening with her and with him. The way he always felt so much when they occupied the same space together worried him. Intrigued him.

Jo set the shot in front of him and said something—he wasn't listening—then walked off. He was still looking at Alex, whose gaze followed Jo in half-interest. Dean had come out of the study and followed Jo into the kitchen. Cas watched as Alex absently watched them.

Alex seemed to be all right again after everything that happened with Gabriel. He had noticed that she had a scar on the palm of her hand where the stitches had healed. A reminder of how powerless he'd been to protect her. There was an odd sense that the angel couldn't seem to put his finger on, but he did recognize that she was acting differently. Something to do with the flowers he thought, but what? He didn't understand and couldn't identify what had changed, or what he had done. She had been reacting to him differently. Since Zachariah, now that Cas thought about it. Alex felt his gaze and looked over. There in her eyes, the same thing he kept trying to decipher.

"Right Cas?" Ellen said, laughing.

"I'm sorry, what?" he said, looking at her and frowning. She didn't say, just kind of got a strange smile on her face as if she were figuring him out.

Jo came back, pulled up a chair, leaned on the table and leaned toward Alex. "Your brother is such a loser."

Alex snorted. "Yeah he is. Wait, which one?"

"Dean, duh," Jo said, grinning.

"You just realizing this?" Alex joked.

"Everybody get in here!" Bobby called from inside the study. "It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner."

Ellen led the way into the study as everyone else shuffled in. "Oh come on, Bobby. Nobody wants their picture taken."

"Hear, hear," Sam agreed.

Bobby fiddled with an old camera on a tripod. "Shut up," he said. "You're drinking my beer." He rolled his wheelchair back to where everyone was piling in for the photo. "Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."

Alex stood in front of Sam and crossed her arms, ready to get it over with. Cas came and stood to her right. Their shoulders touched.

"Ha!" Ellen guffawed at Bobby's snark. "Always good to have an optimist around."

Beside Alex, Castiel straightened, deadly serious. "Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth." The camera flashed.

"Well. That's a happy memory," Ellen said sarcastically, and headed back to the dining room where the alcohol was.

Alex was looking up at Cas in trepidation, but could find nothing to say. Last night on earth? She went back outside onto the porch, troubled. What, he really believed that?

Presently she heard the door open and close behind her. "Whatcha doing out here all alone?" Ellen another beer in hand. "Still a loner?" she asked fondly.

"Yeah, guess I am," Alex said, to which Ellen shook her head and leaned against the porch railing, thoughtful.

"Just don't know when you grew up, kiddo. You and Jo both. Happens too damn fast, and here I am just realizing how short life is." She sighed. "'Specially when I think about tomorrow."

"Yeah. This may be the stupidest thing we've ever done, huh?" Alex commented heavily. She hadn't meant it to sound so pessimistic.

Ellen nodded thoughtfully, speaking like she was talking to herself. "Might be. Might not. That's the beauty of the gamble." She looked at Alex appraisingly, a little smile crossing her lips. "So that angel buddy of yours. What about him?"

Alex looked at Ellen uncertainty, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," Ellen nudged, looking slyer by the second. "Don't be coy with me. I saw the way you look at him. And, hell, the way he looks at you." Alex immediately felt heat rise into her face. She opened her mouth to deny it. Then couldn't. Ellen chuckled and then took a swig of beer. "You got it bad, girl."

"I do not," Alex said weakly. Even she didn't know why she was denying it right now.

Ellen looked at her meaningfully. "Trust me. I recognize the look."

Alex shifted, feeling put on the spot. "Well, so what if I did?"

"Hell, it's our last night on earth, apparently."

Alex's frown deepened. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning make a move while you can." Ellen said simply, then winked. "Never try, never know."

Alex toyed with the idea but shut it down quickly, too embarrassed at the thought of being rejected. She became more and more convinced that it was fantasy as she shook her head and really thought about it. "An angel wouldn't want all this."

Ellen didn't miss a beat. "Well trust me, that one does."

Hearing the older hunter say that spiked a thrill inside, but Alex looked away, trying to cover up her increasing emotions with a soft laugh. "You're drunk, Ellen."

"After all those shots, I better be," she replied, grinning lopsidedly.

Jo suddenly appeared, a huge new bottle of whiskey in her hand. "Mom! I need your help."

Ellen looked at her, eyebrows high. "With?"

"Opening this."

Ellen chuckled and looked at Alex. "We'll talk later," she said, giving Alex a motherly squeeze on the shoulder. Alex was left alone again, in what should have felt like peaceful solitude. But the anxiety only grew. Ellen's words had given her a momentary surge of hope. If this were her last night alive… maybe she should at least consider…

Suddenly, she sensed someone next to her. Cas. His face was relaxed. He didn't say his usual, "Hello, Alex." Instead he said, "Here you are."

And those three words made Alex feel a shiver she couldn't stop.

"Ellen just told me she would snap my wings in half if I ever hurt you," he mentioned casually, and Alex's feelings went from intensely longing to jolted and semi-embarrassed. "I think she was attempting humor. But such a feat is literally impossible, as my true form is incorporeal." He thought a moment, becoming interested in following the idea to its end. "She can't even see my wings, much less touch them."

"Right..." Alex said doubtfully, her thoughts lingering elsewhere. Make a move, Ellen had said. While you still can. Feeling like she might start sweating, Alex chanced a glance at the angel in the trench coat—he was now looking out at the junkyard with mild interest. "So, you, um—do you really think this is our last night on earth?" she ventured.

He turned his head slightly and looked at her. God almighty in Heaven, he is absolutely gorgeous, she thought despondently. "Yes. Killing the devil is an insane plan." He looked away again.

"Way to be an optimist, Cas," Alex said. She studied his profile with yearning.

His frown deepened. "There's not much to be optimistic about. Tomorrow is the end."

Alex hesitated, recognizing her chance growing closer and closer. "So, what are you planning to do with this last night of yours?" She smiled nervously and hopefully. "You just gonna sit here quietly?"

His eyes came to look at her and they were soft, unreadably so. "You're referring to the last time I thought I was going to die." He became more serious. "This time is different." A muscle jerked in his jaw and he looked down, putting his hands on the railing of the porch. "I don't want you to go. It's going to be too dangerous."

"Are Dean and Sam going?" A rhetorical question.

He looked her way. "Yes—"

"Then I'm going," she said, leaving no room for argument, shrugging as if to say 'too bad.'

He didn't look thrilled, in fact, he heaved a little dark sigh. "You are…" he looked away, "very stubborn."

"It's one of the reasons you like me," she joked. He looked at her squarely. Even in the dark, his expression made her go still. Emboldened and petrified, and she thought about how he'd touched her fingertips to hers in the hospital. She glanced down at where his hand rested on the porch railing. Alex hesitated and her heart slammed to the top of her throat. But bravely she reached out and gently laid her hand over Cas's—using touch to say things she didn't know how to say otherwise. Castiel looked at their hands, then back at her, and she inched a little closer, curling her fingers around his, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He didn't pull his hand away, he didn't pull himself away, but his eyebrows moved together just slightly as his eyes swept all over her face in deepening fascination and focus. It was now or never—

And then the door swung open behind them. "Hey Alex, have you seen my—"

Alex had literally jumped away from Cas at the sound of the door. "Your what, Sam?!"

"My, uh, laptop," he said, eyes narrowed, looking first at her, and then Cas.

"What am I, the laptop patrol?!" she exclaimed, brushing past him, every inch of her body flaming with humiliation.

She fled the scene, dashing into the house and down the hallway without looking at anyone. God, what had she been thinking? She wanted to disappear—so she went the only place she could think of. Downstairs, into the basement, then into the panic room. She couldn't believe herself. For a second, she had intended to kiss Cas. Kiss him. Maybe Sam interrupting was a blessing in disguise, because now that she thought about it, she was letting herself live in a fantasy world to believe Cas thought that way about her.

Alex paced the dim panic room, rubbing the back of her neck in agitation. And then she stopped, hearing a soft sound behind her. She already knew it without knowing how who it was, and turned to see Cas standing there in the doorway of the panic room with an odd expression on his face. Her heart rocketed into her throat as her entire body vibrated with a pounding pulse. Cas almost looked like he were breathing heavier than normal and his head was tilted to the side. Then he asked what was possibly the most awkward, mortifying question in the world: "Why did you touch me like that?"

Alex swallowed. And then lied. "I don't know."

He stepped closer. "That's not the truth."

Crap, crap. Alex felt physically shaky at his approach. "It's not important," she said, and tried to look pissed. "Just go away."

He didn't move. "I don't want to," he said, appearing a bit perplexed at his own statement.

Alex looked at him, defenseless and confused. Maybe she should just say it. She remembered what Ellen had said about the last night on earth. With that in mind, why the hell not. Cards on the table. The worse thing that could happen is him rejecting her. She swallowed, bracing herself. "Okay, fine, Cas," she said sort of tersely. "The reason why I, uh—" she couldn't bring herself to say touched you. She skipped it. "Is because sometimes, I get the feeling, and think that you, kind of I guess, that you—" she was losing her certainty, "Uh, when you look at me, maybe, you might have, like, I don't know, um..." she closed her eyes briefly, grimacing, almost unable to get the words out. "That you have feelings for me."

"...Feelings?" he repeated, as if he didn't understand the implication.

Oh god. He was making her spell it out. "Seriously?" she begged, to which his face remained the same unknowing expression. Alex breathed out deeply, completely mortified. "Romantic feelings." He stared back blankly. Her heart sank. "And you don't, do you?" she asked, softly. She'd been wrong. She'd read into things. He was silent and loathe to reply, looking down. Probably trying to calculate how she had arrived at such a ludicrous conclusion.

And Alex was about to brush past him and escape again when Cas looked up and finally met her eyes, his expression strangely vulnerable, his voice softer than usual. "The truth is… I think about you much more than I should."

Holy shit. His confession froze everything. Her heart slammed up against her ribcage. Her lungs suddenly felt incapable of breathing. She breathed it out before she could stop herself: "Me too."

At those two words, she saw his eyes flicker. A muscle in his jaw jumped. "We can't."

Alex was speechless. Had he thought about this? Was he saying he'd considered... them? Together? Like she had? Alex felt dizzy with surprise, relief, apprehension, and frantic desire to know more. Cas turned and walked away a few feet. For a minute, she thought he was going to walk out, and she panicked. "Why?!" she asked, trotting after him in desperation.

He turned slightly, and his gaze was blazing. "It's too dangerous. For both of us. But… especially you."

"I... don't understand," she protested softly.

Regretfully, he turned around to face her fully, his whole face tense. He didn't really look at her. "Angels are forbidden from romantic relationships. Our devotion is solitary. To God alone. When an angel devotes themselves to anything or anyone other than God…" he trailed off, his frown deepening, his gaze far away. "Terrible things happen." Cas looked grim. "I have to protect you, Alex… even if it's from me."

Her eyebrows went high. "Protect me from you?"

He looked back at her halfway, seeing her speechless confusion. Then he began to tell her a story. "Almost two thousand years ago, an angel named Mariel walked the earth. He fell in love with a human woman named Helen. But Helen rejected Mariel. He became... unstable. Possessive. Volatile. And in his anger, he destroyed the entire vicinity of Pompeii. The place where Helen lived. He killed her too."

He stopped at that point, seeming to think that neatly explained it all, when all it did was further confuse Alex, who didn't really care about some human however many thousand years ago and an angel she'd never heard of before. She cared about Cas and herself. Cas however turned as if to leave. Desperate for him to stay, Alex begged without a second thought and followed after him instantly. "Cas, please—you can't just say all that and leave!"

His expression, which had been so blank a moment before, was startling when he whirled. "I have to!" His voice was loud and shaking, and it stunned her, scaring her just a little. He grew quiet and reserved again. "I've—I've said too much already."

"I disagree," she whispered, emotions so close to the surface.

Cas looked apologetic and torn. He let out a soft breath of air. "This was better when you were afraid of me. When you didn't trust me."

Alex was mystified. "What, you mean when you had a stick up your ass?" she asked, kind of joking around in hopes of lightening the moment.

But Cas's eyes snapped back up to hers, no longer soft and yielding, but harsh. "I am not the benevolent and gentle being you believe me to be." He stepped close intimidatingly, his gaze reminding her of the ones he'd given her when they first met. His voice lowered dangerously until he was almost snarling. "I'm an angel. The original warrior and harbinger of destruction. And I could end you, right now, in the blink of an eye," he growled. "Turn you to dust with a mere thought."

She recognized scare tactics when she saw them and Alex couldn't believe her own response but in the face of his declaration... she rolled her eyes. "Please, Cas." His theatrics were obviously a very juvenile, irritating smoke screen.

He faltered, taken back at her bland response, then he quickly schooled his expression back into something forbidding as he doubled down and invaded her space intimidatingly. "Do you not believe me?" he demanded, trying to scare her or prove that he was some danger. Maybe he thought Alex would fall back or shrink away, but she had done neither—which resulted in them being closer than ever before. Close enough that their chests faintly touched.

Alex's heart rate grew quicker still as her eyes searched his very close, intense blue eyes. Obviously, he was powerful. But implying he would hurt her was just laughable at this point. Because she saw straight through what he trying to do, and that in itself was what gave her hope. It told her that yeah—he did feel the same about her. As such, her voice dropped to the softest whisper, barely audible as she decided to let her guard down and take a chance that he might do so too. "You know, if you're scared... you could just say so."

Surprise unfurled in his face. Daunted he swallowed, seeming absolutely vulnerable with startling abruptness. "What could I possibly be afraid of?" he asked, his whisper matching hers.

Alex didn't know what words to use. All she could do was reach up and touch gentle fingers to the place on his trench coat where his heart beat underneath. She could feel how quickly it drummed. Just like hers. Her eyes snapped up to look into his again. He was breathing harder—and he was so close she could feel the warm breath from his mouth hitting her lips. That look in his eyes faded into questioning curiosity and mounting deliberation. "Same thing I am," she breathed, putting it all out there and hitching all her pride to taking this chance. Her eyes dropped to his lips, then looked into his eyes. "This."

'This' being the slow draw and deepening connection. The magnet-like pull, the inescapable dynamic.

Yes. The truth was inescapable: Cas was afraid. Of how much he felt. Of how many profound and foreign feelings she stirred in him. Of the growing sense of need. Castiel stared at Alex, who was so close and entrancing, proving impossible to look away from. A moment ago, he had been in control—or thought so, anyway. But what she said to him left him compromised. He couldn't stop himself from noticing how her chest rose and fell faster than usual, brushing against the front of him so lightly. Her soft, parted lips that were so very close to his. What would it be like to touch his mouth to hers? He shouldn't wonder. But he'd been wondering for some time now. He looked back into dark hazel eyes that looked into his without fear. Just… desire. He felt his expression fade as he recognized the look in her eye at last for what it was. He felt the same.

The angel tried desperately to ignore the way every cell in his vessel and his mind seemed to be screaming, begging for him to tilt his head down and put his lips onto hers. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong; his inner dialogue was deafening, shouting you can't do this, this can't happen, it's abominable under Heaven! He should run as far away as physically possible and cast temptation aside. But it was too late. And it had been too late the second he decided to follow her to the panic room. Perhaps this had been inevitable since the beginning. With every breath he was losing ground, this deafening desire was overriding every fail-safe he'd ever had. It was like he couldn't help himself... like it was always going to happen exactly like this.

With a heartbeat that made his veins vibrate with thunder, the angel gave in and brushed his mouth against hers, uncertain how to give a kiss—but she knew how and showed him, softly pressing her mouth to his in a way that made electricity soar. Oh. Even as a surge of pleasure and shock and wonder rushed in like an ocean tide, the lights above their heads burst, showering the angel and hunter in sparks like flecks of lightning then leaving the room dim. On instinct, the angel's lips pressed back into hers after the briefest instance of being caught off guard, then his arms sought to pull her closer. Of their own accord his eyes fell closed and his senses raptured in these newfound sensations. Cas's stomach turned over inside of himself and he let out a soft sound of wonder as feelings so intense and beautiful burned between them.

In sync with his thoughts and desires, Alex's arms wrapped around his neck and he felt her hands going into his hair, fingers curling in tightly, sending little zinging sensations all over his vessel. Castiel was overcome in a way he'd never been before. It felt beyond anything he had ever imagined. Her warm body pressed against his and he grasped tenderly, pulling her closer, reveling in this wordless communication of things he had never known how to channel before. Her kiss was beyond words or description.

He'd seen humans kiss and it had looked uncomfortable and strange. But now, to partake in the activity... Castiel's opinion was instantly changed. He felt the kiss in every atom of his body—every cell and fiber was under a spell. It seemed as though they were communicating without words, it felt like they were gently, slowly, experimentally breathing each other in and asking to know the other at unimaginable depths. He never wanted this moment to end... this intimate, wordless language of mouths. Lost in her, Castiel couldn't find an end to things to focus on. His nose was pressed into her cheek and he felt how her hands were touching him softly, how her breaths were noisy and close to him, inside of him sometimes, how her body seemed to fit against his so perfectly, how her touch gave him the feeling of being sheltered, lifted, and anchored all at once. The feeling was so resplendent and good, so overwhelming, that he wondered, briefly, how he'd ever thought it could be wrong for them to be together, not if it were like this. But, in the furthest reaches of his mind, he knew why. And he stopped, pulling away, realizing himself and his actions—the absolute danger in doing this with her and going down this path. He looked at Alex in the beginnings of fear.

But then he saw how she looked stunned and close and breathless and beautiful in the cast of dim light—he saw how her lips looked different after kissing his—and he again felt helpless and impassioned, unable to deny what his body and mind wanted. With urgency he didn't quite understand, he pulled her back to him, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with passion like he'd seen so many humans do. It wasn't imitation, though. He felt it flooding his body and mind, a devotion that had been created by everything he had felt about her for so long now. Castiel was internally shocked in the background of his mind at the ease with which this came to him, but it came to him all the same. He was desperate for more of this and more of her; he was unable to reconcile Heaven's laws with his feelings, these sensations, the knowledge that he was in the arms of the human being who had somehow become the pinnacle of his thoughts, motivations, and desires. He was stunned all over again when something soft nudged his mouth—her tongue. His vessel loved the sensation and warmth spread over him with dizzying speed. He mimicked her, letting his tongue nudge back as their hot breath mingled. Mind-shattering pleasure resulted, deepening passion built—the kiss became so much more intense somehow—and a soft little helpless sound came out of Alex's mouth against Cas's when he stumbled them against the nearby wall. Startled at the little whimper, the angel pulled back with ragged breaths as she clung to him.

You shouldn't be doing this, Castiel. It rang in his mind over and over again like a bell, like a quickly-rising alarm. You shouldn't be doing this, Castiel!

They stared at each other breathlessly and Castiel's fear loomed large, terrifying him. What right did he have to do this? What sort of hellish audacity had gripped him? Cas pulled out of her arms, anguished and confused, aware that he'd just committed a sin. He stumbled as he took two steps backwards, aghast at himself, confused, still in the throes of the physical effect she'd had on him. She stood there where he'd left her, looking small, alone, questioning. Hurt.

"I… I shouldn't have done that," Castiel said, finding it difficult to speak. What kind of miserable hypocrite was he? A minute ago, he had told her that they couldn't be involved romantically and why. He remembered what Dean had said, the warning about how his closeness to Alex would be her undoing. Terror shimmered through him, body and mind. What have I done?

Alex tried haltingly to move closer to him, but he stepped back, not allowing her. "That was a mistake," Cas said forcefully.

Gutted, Alex stopped. "What?" she whispered so faintly he might have imagined it. The betrayal on her face however, was loud and impossible to miss.

Cas struggled, unable to take the look on her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered honestly, feeling so shocked at himself and his lapse in judgement. "…I've hurt you."

Her face crumpled and she looked away in rejection. There was sudden, intense abhorrence inside of Castiel. His lack of self-control had done harm. How would this affect things between them now? Had he broken some sort of sacred trust? He had certainty overstepped his bounds and been brash. If only he'd had the strength to resist kissing her, if only he hadn't given in. He looked down, thinking how if he could take it back, he would—his eyes flicked back up as he realized. He could take it back. This whole mess he'd created. The pain on her face. The road of sin they were so close to traveling down. He didn't know what other choice he had. It was the right thing to do. He would remove this memory. She never had to know about the kiss they should never have shared. It was wrong, but it was the less of two wrongs.

He stepped forward, hand outstretched for her and she stepped back, eyes going wider. "W-what are you doing?"

"I have to, Alex."

She already seemed to know where he was going with this. She hit a wall with her back and had nowhere to run. "No, you don't—please—!"

He couldn't bear to look at her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered wretchedly, and he was. He touched his fingers to her head.

Her expression went blank and she looked at him oddly. "I'm—wait, what was I saying?" She then went limp and silent. Cas caught her gently. She would be unconscious all night. Guilt and darkness and longing filled him. Her face was peaceful, smooth. He touched the side of it with the palm of his hand, just looking at her and wishing. Then he pulled his hand away as if bitten. He couldn't. If he was going to keep her safe—even from himself—he couldn't allow himself to think of her in that way. Ever. At all.

And yet… he didn't know how to stop.

He put her onto the cot in the panic room, with every intention of leaving her there. The others would assume she had fallen asleep from drinking, no one would ask questions, really... but Cas stood there, unmoving, unable to walk away. He couldn't bring himself to leave her like that. It wasn't right. He gathered her up into his arms and carried her upstairs. Every step he took seemed heavy and guilt-ridden and he questioned himself over and over, cursed himself over and over. And yet, he went as slowly as possible, so that he could hold her as long as possible.

---

Dean looked up from his laptop to see Alex's limp form being carried by Castiel. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving, one of her arms dangled. He almost shoved the laptop onto the floor, he stood up so fast. "Oh my god, what happened?" he demanded in a panic as he rushed over—did she fall down? A demon? Some kind of monster?

"She, uh, passed out," Castiel said. "From alcohol."

Dean froze, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh." He was kind of glad everyone else had gone to sleep so they hadn't seen that display.

Cas was looking at Dean grimly. "Where, uh, should I put her?"

Really? "How about a bed, genius?" Dean asked—not sure if Cas was hilarious or brain dead.

"A bed. Yes, of course."

Dean stepped into the hallway and opened the guest room door, yanking back the blanket on the bed and Castiel, with surprising gentleness, laid Alex down, settling her into the bed. Dean watched hawkishly as a little stiffly, Cas pulled the blanket back up over her and then stood back. "Is that sufficient?"

Dean looked at Cas sidelong. "That girl could sleep standing up. Don't worry about it." He turned to leave, got to the door, glanced back, and huffed. Castiel just stood there like a dumbass, looking at Alex. Dean looked at him and waited a second. Then cleared his throat. "This is the part where we leave, Cas."

"Oh. Yes," Cas said. "Of course."

They left the room and Dean shut the door quietly behind them, then turned to Cas, looking at him hard—the angel was acting extremely weird. "You sure there's nothing going on you want to tell me about?"

Cas looked at him sharply. "What would be going on?"

Dean gave him a pointed look. Cas might be thick, but was he really that clueless? "I mean, a friggin' angel takes special interest in my little sister—you better believe I'm gonna make sure it's nothing…" he searched for a word, "inappropriate." Cas's confused expression made Dean roll his eyes, and clarify awkwardly. "Meaning romantic, Cas!"

There was a pause and Dean saw a muscle jump in Cas's cheek. "I don't possess the ability to be involved in that kind of situation," the angel said vaguely, not looking at Dean anymore.

"Meaning what?" Dean demanded, receiving another glare from Cas.

"Meaning stop accusing me of it," Cas said darkly then brushed past Dean, clearly over the exchange.

Dean watched him go, annoyed. "Dick."

---

The Next Day

In the backseat of Ellen's Wagoneer, Alex sat in silence. She glanced at Cas, who still avoided her gaze. They had just passed the sign that said Welcome to Carthage.

They had driven most of the day and it was nearing sundown. Most of the way there, Jo had been talking about hunting—the hunts she'd been on, the hunts she'd heard about. Alex had tuned it out mostly, trying to figure out why she felt so friggin' weird. She felt out of it, like hung over, except she was pretty sure she shouldn't be. She hadn't had that much to drink. She couldn't remember, and the details of last night were fuzzy. She wasn't sure why. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that stuck like glue.

She thought maybe for a minute she felt off because of the fight she'd had with Dean. They had basically yelled at each other in front of everyone when they left from Bobby's—she'd made to get in the car with Ellen, Dean had pitched a fit about her riding with him and Sam, she'd told him to cram it—so there was that. But that was everyday stuff. Not enough to make her feel so strange.

Ellen glanced back at her in the rearview. "You okay, hon?"

"Fine," Alex said offhandedly. "Just feeling a little off."

Beside her, Cas looked at her sidelong, and she gave him a thin little smile. He looked away uncomfortably. She felt her smile fade. She did remember trying to make a move on him before everything got hazy. Had she upset him? It would seem so. Everything about his body language and expression seemed tense and disturbed and repelled by her. Alex was disappointed in herself. She couldn't do anything right—first she'd pissed him off with the flowers, then she'd gone and effed everything up yesterday. She looked out the window blankly as they entered the town. Carthage was empty.

"Where is everyone?" Jo asked.

"At least we know we're in the right place," Alex muttered. It was nice and spooky. Her stomach twisted as she hoped against hope that this would work, that it wasn't some kind of horrible trap.

Dean and Sam pulled up alongside them, and Ellen rolled down her window to talk to Dean. "Place seem a little empty to you?"

"Yeah. We're gonna go check out the PD," Dean said. "You guys stay here, see if you can find anybody."

"Okay," Ellen confirmed, and the boys drove off as Ellen parked the car. They all got out, except Cas.

Jo tapped on Cas's window. "Hey! Ever heard of a door handle?"

Suddenly, Cas was standing outside beside her. "Of course I have," he said blandly. He was looking around intensely.

"What is it, Cas?" Ellen asked.

"This town's not empty."

Foreboding. Alex tried looking where he was looking, but saw nothing. "What do you see?"

"Reapers."

"Reapers?" Ellen repeated. "As in more than one?"

"They only gather like this at times of great catastrophe. Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake." He paused, frown deepening. "Pompeii." He glanced at Alex, then stepped forward. "Excuse me, I need to find out why they're here." He paused, looking back. Ellen and Jo scanned the area as Alex stared after the angel. "Stay together," he said to her. "I'll be back." She contemplated him uncertainly, but nodded.

He turned and walked away, weaving through the countless reapers. None of them acknowledged him, they all stood and faced a single point—which was exactly where he headed. Up ahead in an apartment building window, a reaper with cloudy white eyes stared back at him… then turned and disappeared.

Castiel followed him, slipping through the distance and up into the building in an instant. He was in a dark hallway, and he could see the reaper at the end of it. He followed him, entering a dark room, intent on finding out why the reapers were here. Then, beside him, he heard a soft voice. "Hello, brother."

The dark room was suddenly lit up in a blaze of light, and Castiel looked down—seeing that he stood in a ring of fire. A trap. He had been trapped. He looked up, seeing the other person in the room. "Lucifer."

Obscured by shadows, Lucifer walked slowly toward him. "So I take it you're here with the Winchesters."

Castiel felt something jump inside him. He clenched his jaw and lied. "I came alone."

"Loyalty," Lucifer commented mildly. "Such a nice quality to see this day and age. Castiel, right? Yes, Castiel. I'm told you came here in an automobile."

A little caught off guard by the comment, Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

"What was that like?" Lucifer asked, further confounding Castiel.

"Um. Slow. Confining."

Lucifer finally came close enough that Castiel could see him. "What a peculiar thing you are," he said, looking at Cas with interest.

Castiel, however, was looking at Lucifer's face—there were peeling burns dotting the man's fair features. "What's wrong with your vessel?" Cas asked suspiciously.

"Ah, yes," Lucifer said, chuckling softly. "Um. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so—" he looked at Castiel meaningfully.

"You—" Castiel started, stepping forward, then stopping as he reached the edge of the fire. He was breathing heavily, enraged at what Lucifer was implying. "You will not take Sam Winchester. I won't let you."

Lucifer was mildly perplexed. "Castiel. I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."

Castiel looked at him, glared. "You really have to ask?"

Lucifer looked at him thoughtfully. "I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of Heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one." Castiel felt himself go still. He hadn't considered that. Lucifer continued. "We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"

Castiel lowered his chin. "I'll die first."

Lucifer seemed almost amused by that suggestion. "And why should you need to die?" he asked softly. "Wouldn't it be much more poetic... if it were someone else's life on the line? Someone you cared for more than yourself?"

Castiel felt something in him jump again. Fear. "What—"

Lucifer raised his hand into the air, snapped his fingers once, and Alex was suddenly there. She looked confused, out of breath, and there was blood on her—she caught sight of him even as he realized it was someone else's blood.

Castiel strained at the edge of the fire in alarm, as Lucifer smiled at Alex calmly. "Hello, Alexandra."

"How did you bring her here, Lucifer?" Cas demanded dangerously, his vessel trembling wrathfully. Lucifer smiled ever so slightly as Castiel's voice raised. "How did you know where she was?"

Lucifer smiled chillingly. "You give me so little credit, Castiel." He circled Alex, who looked so small and vulnerable next to Lucifer. "So, Alexandra, we were just talking about you," the devil said conversationally. "And forgive me for the thuggish tactics, but—" he produced a pair of handcuffs from behind himself— "I just don't want you to leave quite yet."

Cas's fists clenched and his breath caught as Lucifer grabbed Alex, snapping one end of the cuffs onto her left wrist before he threaded the cuff chain around one of the smaller pipes on the wall then snapped the second cuff onto her right wrist, trapping her there. Lucifer gently traced his fingers down Alex's neck—she squirmed, repulsed and scared—and the room shook slightly as Castiel stood there in helpless rage. Lucifer's fingers went lower, lower, then grabbed at the sliver of chain, yanking her lock pick necklace off. She looked shocked that he had known about it—and he just smiled, his eyes twinkling as they caught the glow of the holy fire.

"Leave her out of this," Castiel demanded, catching Lucifer's attention once more. "I'm warning you."

Lucifer ignored the idle threat as he walked the edge of the ring of fire with a slow, measured gait. "Do you know, Castiel, that in order for me to summon Death tonight… as part of the ritual… I have to kill all the women in town? And, well, I've killed all of them already. All except three. Jo. Ellen." He paused, looking at Alex. "And this one." He smiled sympathetically even as Castiel glared, enraged, realizing what was happening. Lucifer shrugged mildly. "I'm sad to say, Jo and Ellen will be dead within the hour. However… I can spare Alex. For you, brother. If you agree to help me."

Castiel glowered. Across from him, Alex was shaking her head. "Don't do anything he says, Cas, don't."

He looked at her, pained, and Lucifer went to her then put a hand on her shoulder, his thumb stroking over it slowly. She shuddered in revulsion and Castiel swore that if this fire didn't separate him from her...!

Lucifer touched the side of her face in something like tenderness then forced her to meet his gaze. Alex looked like she wanted to spit in his face. "We'll give him some time to think it over, Alex, what do you say?" He let go, nodding toward the doorway. "But, Castiel… look."

Cas followed Lucifer's eye line and his expression went cold.

Alex saw nothing there. "What is it?"

His chin jutted slightly forward in anger. "A reaper."

"Waiting," Lucifer said, and tapped Alex under the chin. "For you." He looked back at Cas. "Midnight," Lucifer said calmly. "Castiel. Make the wise choice. She doesn't need to die."

Castiel glared. "You're trying to manipulate me by threatening to murder her if I don't comply."

Lucifer put a hand over his heart as if he were hurt. "I'm offering you a kindness."

"It's not kindness," Castiel bit back. "You want to burn the world and everyone in it."

"You make me sound so very dreadful," Lucifer said, shaking his head. "You and I? We're on the same side."

"I am not on your side," Castiel growled, and Lucifer shrugged, almost rolled his eyes.

"That's your choice. You see, unlike God, I don't see the point in forcing anyone to do anything against their will."

He seemed to tire of Castiel and turned back to Alex, who shrank back. "Alexandra. Why are you looking at me like that? We're going to be friends, you and I. You don't need to be afraid."

"Yeah great," she said acidly. Even though she didn't look it, Cas could tell she was afraid—very afraid.

Lucifer chuckled like she was cute. "So much like your brother Dean. And more like Sam than you think." He sighed, a long, high sound. "Well. That's neither here nor there. Castiel holds your life in his hands right now, and I honestly do hope he chooses to save you."

"You're full of shit," Alex spat, and suddenly Lucifer grabbed her tightly, shoving her against the wall with a loud thud—she cried out in surprise or maybe in pain. Castiel was furious.

"And you're far too confident," Lucifer told her while smiling. He looked back to see Castiel practically fuming at the edge of the ring. "Look. How protective he is of you," the devil said softly. His eyes were catching the flickering flames. He looked so pleased as his sinister gaze took the other angel in. "You've fallen so much further than you're willing to admit, Castiel."

---

It was almost midnight, and nothing had changed. Alex was getting frantic. When she'd been separated from Dean, Sam, Ellen and Jo, there were hellhounds after them, and Jo had gotten hurt, pretty bad too from what she could tell. God almighty, what if they had all been killed by those things?

As if on cue Meg walked in, and Alex's hatred could have almost blinded her. "I got the Winchesters pinned down," Meg said to Lucifer, pleased with herself. "For now, at least. What should I do with them?"

Lucifer paused. "Leave them alone."

Everyone in the room, even Meg, looked at Lucifer in confusion. "I—I'm sorry, but are you sure? Shouldn't we—" Meg started, but Lucifer just shook his head.

"Trust me, child. Everything happens for a reason." He stroked Meg's face, and the demon smiled, leaning into his hand.

"Well, Castiel," Lucifer said. "You have some time. Not much. But a little. Time to change your mind?" He waited. Castiel said nothing. Lucifer sighed and made to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Alex demanded.

Lucifer shrugged. "Things to do. Don't worry... I'll see you again." She was chilled by that statement. Lucifer turned and looked at Cas, speaking softly. "Time's running out, Castiel." He left and Meg looked at Castiel and then Alex, trying to figure it out.

"What, is this some kinda trade? Sam for Alex?" She smiled. "Gotta say, I always liked Sam better. Then again, I was inside him."

Alex struggled against the handcuffs. "Screw you."

Meg giggled, looked at Alex suggestively, a single eyebrow arching up. "Anytime, sweet cheeks." She turned her attention to Cas, looked at him with a coy little smile. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

"That's not the word I'd use for it," he said, and her face broke into a smile. She laughed heartily.

"Oh, I like you," she said. "But, I gotta ask—you're honestly going to sacrifice yourself for the Winchesters?" She gave him a pouty face. "Come on, Clarence. It would be no fun if you missed our party. You're getting a VIP invitation and you're gonna say no?" She turned to Alex. "I mean, isn't that a crazy thing to turn down?" Alex glowered. Meg made a face. "What, you're not even gonna talk to me anymore? My feelings are hurt." She swaggered a little closer, barely able to hold back a grin. "How's the fam doing? Dean looked so surprised to see my hellhounds, didn't he?"

"You bitch," Alex growled, yanking at her cuffs noisily.

Meg rolled her eyes, that stupid smile never leaving her face. "You know, normally I might resent your tone," she drawled. "But today, I'm in a good mood. I'll let it slide."

Alex stared back unblinkingly. "Oh boy. Gee whiz. Thanks."

Enjoying the control, Meg threw her head back, flexing her neck, then fanning herself with her hand. "Mmmm. Is it me, or is it kinda hot in here?" She laughed at herself while Alex looked at Cas dismally.

He was looking at her intently, eyes flickering down, then up, down, then up. With a rush of realization, Alex realized that he was trying to tell her something. Giving the impression that she wasn't looking at anything at all, Alex let her gaze drop a little. She saw the pipe that her handcuffs were attached to. The screw was slowly untwisting. Her eyes flashed back to him, and she saw his hand moving, just slightly. She saw exactly what he was doing and then knew what she had to do. She looked back at Meg, who was still laughing.

Alex baited her. She needed Meg to be close for this. "Hey ugly, what's so hilarious?"

"We're gonna win. Can you feel it? These cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe. Lucifer's gonna take over heaven." She grinned at Cas now. "We're going to Heaven, Clarence."

"Strange, because I heard a different theory from a demon named Crowley," Castiel said.

Meg stopped, eyes narrowing. "You don't know Crowley."

"He believes Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end, and that, once he does, he'll destroy you all."

Meg's smile was gone. Alex egged her on again. "You're a fucking delusional idiot, Meg."

Meg was cold. "I'm not the one with a crush on an angel, sweetheart."

Alex grew darker. "No, you're the one who thinks the devil's gonna let you live to see daylight once he's used your pathetic skank ass up."

Meg went closer to Alex, smiling again, so confident and egomaniacal. "You're wrong. Lucifer is the father of my race. My creator." She jerked her head at Cas. "His god's a deadbeat, but mine? Walks the earth."

"Not for long, bitch," Alex said, matching Meg's narcissistic expression, clearly pissing the demon off with that last comment.

Alex heard the screw drop to the floor, a little metallic ping! even as Meg was getting in her face, saying, "you arrogant piece of—" Meg would never finish that sentence. Alex reeled back and knocked Meg in the forehead with hers, grabbing the pipe with both hands as she kicked Meg in the stomach—she yanked the loose pipe off the wall in both hands and using it to club the stumbling-backwards Meg across the face. The barrage of unexpected hits knocked the demon back into the ring of fire, and Cas caught Meg roughly, slamming his hand to her forehead—and… nothing. Meg gasped, panting, and then, realized nothing had happened. "You can't gank demons, can you?!" she exclaimed gleefully. "You're cut off from the home office and you ain't got the juice! So what can you do, you impotent sap?"

"I can do this," he said, and threw her down across the fire, striding out over her as she screamed. Cas reached for Alex, his hand taking her by the wrist. And they were suddenly outside, in the dark, on a road. Next to them, the sign that said Welcome to Carthage.

Alex looked at Cas in alarm—he was breathless, grabbing the handcuffs and easily ripping them off—she wasn't sure exactly how—she only knew that she looked down and saw twisted metal laying on the ground at her feet. He'd done it with his bare hands. He was gripping her by both arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked in such distress that she was frightened.

"I'm... fine, I—" she stuttered. He seemed to be only mildly placated.

"Do not move—" he said intensely. "I'll be right back." And he disappeared again, leaving Alex blinking, shocked, and without anything to do but wait. She didn't have to wonder for long—Cas returned with Dean and Sam on either side of him. Dean and Sam only.

Dread pitted her stomach. "...Ellen and Jo?" she asked just above a whisper. Sam shook his head, looking away, and Dean looked positively wrathful. Alex stared. "...The devil?"

"Alive and kicking," Dean said angrily. "The Colt didn't work."

Beside herself, Alex looked at her brother. "Are you sure that you—"

"Yes, I'm damn sure!" he shouted. "It didn't work, and he raised Death, and now we're all new levels of screwed!"

Sam looked at Castiel, whose face gave away nothing. "Cas? What do we do?"

"What do we do?" he repeated, as if that were a ridiculous question. "What can we do? It would seem nothing. Destiny is unwavering," he said, his voice becoming acidic. "Michael and Lucifer will fight. It's just a matter of when."

"They can't fight if neither of us says yes," Sam argued.

Cas looked at him sharply, anger like Alex had never seen on his face. "You will. Both of you. It's inevitable. Destiny cannot be changed, and we shouldn't try to go against it! It will always end in death and destruction." He looked between the three Winchesters, his face etched in harsh lines. "Tonight should prove that to you."

"It proves nothing except we can't kill the devil with the Colt," Dean retorted. "So we find another friggin' way!"

"There is no other way, Dean," Cas said furiously. "You should accept it." Castiel looked at Dean as if in disgust. "Why do you insist on being so shortsighted and stubborn?"

"Because this is my family we're talking about!" Dean shouted. "I am not saying yes, because I refuse to kill Sam or leave Alex behind. You hear me, Cas?" Dean looked at them all, waving an angry arm. "We have lost too many damn people to walk away from this now. I am ending what I started, you all got that?" He looked like he wanted to murder someone. "I gotta go get the car. Stay here, all of you," he said, and turned, began to march down the road back toward town.

Cas, Sam, and Alex watched him go silently. "He's not even the one who started it all," Sam said after a moment, sounding defeated. "I mean, maybe he broke the first seal. But I'm the one who set Lucifer free."

Castiel's jaw worked oddly, the heated anger fading away into an implacable expression. "And I'm the one who didn't warn you when I could have. I could have stopped it all." Alex tried to search out his gaze, but he wouldn't look at her.

"Are you all right, Cas?" Alex asked, trying to see in past his defenses and anger.

He glanced at her. "No. Lucifer shouldn't have been able to summon you like that. This requires investigation." She opened her mouth to say something else, but without any warning, he was suddenly gone.

Sam let out an exasperated puff of air. "Why does he always do that?"

Alex wanted to know too. She felt stung, and she wasn't sure why.

All around them, crickets chirped, as if it were a normal, peaceful night.

---

They rode back to Bobby's in complete, dead silence. Depressed, sad, reflecting. Each on their own private hells and torment. All thinking about the loss of Ellen and Jo. Before Dean had come back with the Impala, Sam told Alex about what the women had done, how they had sacrificed themselves for Sam and Dean. She cried then, weeping because they had died for nothing—Lucifer was still alive, and the Colt, their only hope, hadn't worked. Sam held her tight and she'd cried all the tears she had left. And now, she was silent. She felt like if she cried in front of Dean, it would set him off, too. She could tell from looking at him how hard he was taking it. How much he didn't want to face it. It was heart wrenching.

When they got back to Bobby's, Dean got out of the car wordlessly and walked off a ways into the salvage yard. Sam hung back then shook his head and went inside, probably to tell Bobby the news. Alex hesitated then followed Dean.

He had his hands in his jacket pockets, facing away from her. She came to his side slowly. "You okay?" She knew of course he wasn't.

Dean's face was etched in sadness. "All these people we love keep dying, Alex, and I keep thinking… is it my fault? Did I cause this somehow?" He looked at her, grimacing, and then looked away again. "I'm a joke, Alex. I can't protect anyone. I always think I can." He seemed so hollow as he repeated himself. "I always think I can."

His voice wavered with emotion and a broken quality. "I couldn't keep the two of them alive—I couldn't keep Lucifer from digging his talons into you—I don't think I can protect Sam from his future. From Detroit. I'm losing everyone and I guess I'm starting to get that I can't do a damn thing about any of it." He dropped his hand, expression blank. "Maybe I should stop trying."

Alex put herself in front of him. "Dean Winchester. Look at me and shut up." He did. His eyes shone with tears. "You don't get to give up on this." None of them did. "Don't you dare let their deaths be in vain. We are not giving up. We are not letting Lucifer get what he wants."

He looked down, his voice passionless. "I'm tired, Al. I'm tired."

"We all are," she said softly, not really knowing what else to say.

He wet his lips, a self-deprecating smile on his face that faded into grief once more. He struggled a minute, vulnerable. "And, the crazy thing is… I thought… in the back of my mind… Jo and me, someday… maybe..." he trailed off. There was very rare, real emotion in his voice, and she saw a tear run down his cheek, the moonlight glinting off the streak left behind. It completely broke her already aching heart.

Alex slid her arms through his, thinking of an angel who she felt the very same way about: someday… maybe… but probably not. She understood it so well. Dean kept his hands in his pockets, not really accepting her gesture of affection in any way except leaning his head sideways slightly against hers. He was trying to hold himself together—she could feel him struggling to breathe normally, against the threat of tears.

Dean pulled away, muttered something about going inside, avoiding her gaze as he did so. Alex was left alone to watch her big brother walk away. She suddenly thought how cold it was that night, and how she hadn't noticed until right then.

---

Later That Night

Alex walked by moonlight down the main road, watching the yellow lines under her feet as she went. It was late enough that she didn't even have to worry about traffic. Not a single car had passed so far, and she'd been walking for maybe thirty minutes. After following Dean inside of Bobby's house, she'd quickly realized that she needed to get out of there to clear her mind. She was probably a mile from Bobby's by now, but she kept walking, one foot in front of the other. Staying in motion helped her forget, just a little bit.

But she couldn't run from what was inside. She was conflicted, grieved, and hollow. She stopped and listened to the sound of silence. Everything that happened tonight discouraged and wrecked her. The Colt failing to kill Lucifer had been like a punch in the gut. That had been their single hope. If it couldn't kill him, what, if anything besides Michael, could?

Her mind turned to Ellen and Jo, and Alex closed her eyes tightly for a second. By now she'd lost count of how many hunter friends had died in her lifetime, but she had never imagined having to add the Harvelles to that list. It was another reminder that hunters pretty much always met violent ends. And if she were honest, she felt her end approaching, too. That was the one certainty of this life: that death could come any day, and probably would.

There was a soft sound to her right.

"Miss Winchester," came a pleasant, accented voice. Alex whirled, startled and on guard. It was an average-height dark-haired man in an all-black suit. He sauntered toward her slowly, smiling somewhat deviously. "Out for a walk awful late aren't you, love?" He stopped a couple steps away, looked at her meaningfully. "Could be dangerous for a young lady to be traipsing about after dark, don't you think?"

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?" Alex demanded, looking him up and down, her hand hovering over her back pocket where her hunting knife was sheathed.

"Name's Crowley," the man said silkily. Alex's face dropped and he chuckled darkly. "Right-o. I see you've heard of me." He lowered his chin, looking at her slyly. "Have to say I was disappointed when you didn't come along for the meet n' greet with your brothers."

Great, this was just awesome—a mile from Bobby's, no weapon to use against a demon, no one nearby to help—still, none of it stopped her from mouthing off. "Screw off or I'll kill you."

He sighed, seeming disappointed. "You lot are so predictable." He took in her expression and his face screwed up. "Oh stop looking at me like that, would you? I'm not the enemy here, Alex."

At that comment, she raised her eyebrows, matching his attitude blow for blow. "Uh, you know who I am, right? The simple fact that you're a demon makes you my enemy."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Well. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or some tripe like that."

Alex crossed her arms, not taking her mistrustful eyes off him for a second. "Yeah, my brothers told me all about how you want Lucifer dead. But that doesn't exactly make us buddies."

"No, I suppose it doesn't," he said, chuckling softly, then without any notice, he flew into a fit of rage. "Especially since they couldn't hold up their end of my friggin' deal!" Alex kind of leaned back when he blasted off. When he spoke again, it was calm and pleasant. "I gave them the Colt to kill the devil. Look where that's gotten me."

"News travels fast," Alex commented suspiciously, not sure how he could know that so soon.

"Indeed. And since your blithering idiot brothers couldn't kill the devil today… I'm forced to get desperate."

"I'm waiting for the punch line..." Alex said mistrustfully.

Crowley chuckled. His dark eyes were glinting dangerously. "You are a pet, aren't you?" His amusement faded into semi-seriousness. "The punch line. Well. There are rumors." His eyebrows raised briefly. "That you, my dear, have a part to play in this thing."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell do you mean?"

He sauntered a little closer. "Word on the grapevine is that you're the one who'll kill Lucy."

The air left Alex's lungs. "What?"

"Yes, I know," Crowley said dramatically. "Didn't believe it at first myself, thought it was absolute bollocks, but now that your oaf brothers have gone and mucked it all up—well, I'm starting to consider the validity of what I've heard."

"Dean is Michael's vessel," Alex said emphatically, her mind spinning. "Not me."

"Never said anything about Michael though, did I?" Crowley asked, smiling mysteriously. "Think about it a tic, darling. You're a Winchester. Your blood line ties you to this whole situation by association. How remains to be seen. But I'm going to find out." He stepped a little closer still, eyes narrowing a little. "Because I know you want Lucifer dead just as much as I do."

She stared at him hard, not sure if he were trying to screw with her or what. He seemed entirely amused by her confusion, his eyes crinkling up in another smile. "Ah, me, look at the time," he said. "Things to do. Places to be. Hell to raise." But then, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her, suddenly intent. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What?" Alex asked suspiciously, not liking the look on his face.

The smile was back, sly this time, knowing. "That angel on your shoulder? He's a tricky little devil…" he chuckled lowly, looking at her as he knew something she didn't. Then with no fanfare, he raised his hand up beside his head and moved his fingers up and down twice, waving. "Laters."

In a single blink, Crowley was gone, leaving her absolutely reeling. Unsure what to think, or if he were really gone. For a second, she wanted to open her mouth and call Cas. She almost did. And then she shut her mouth, deciding not to.

Because something deep inside was telling her she shouldn't share what Crowley told her. With anyone. Not yet, anyway.