Song Remains the Same
Chapter 23 / Be All My Sins Remembered
"Forward's the only way to go."
- Belle and Sebastian
In every direction the arctic tundra stretched pristine and untouched. Snowy white mountains marched along the horizon, rising from icy plateaus—the frozen oceans that stretched into what looked like infinity beyond. The sun bore down from crystal blue sky onto a solitary figure wearing a trench coat.
Castiel breathed in the sharp and icy air, his eyes scanning the distance. It had been two days since Carthage.
There was no logical reason for him to be here. And yet there he stood in the empty wilderness of ice and snow, removed from any trace of humanity. Currently, he couldn't bear the sight of people. They all reminded him of her. Of what he had done.
Never before had his mind been such a disaster of overwhelming, chaotic thoughts. There was regret—confusion—guilt. And there was a deep-seated fear because of what Lucifer had been able to do with Alex; how helpless Castiel had been to defend her—how unprepared he had been for what had happened. Had Azazel done something to Alex that night in the nursery? Had Castiel overlooked some mark, some sort of tracking charm or blood spell? Or was Lucifer far more powerful than he'd thought? Furthermore, how had the devil known what Alex meant to Castiel? He could still see Lucifer's hand touching Alex's face as if in tenderness. The memory inspired rage.
It was easier to face the rage than to face the other things: the shame and horror, the creeping knowledge that he had done the wrong thing. The self-hatred for his momentary lapse in sanity.
A simple touch of her hand on his had set in motion a series of actions that Castiel couldn't quite explain. It had only been her hand gently resting on top of his. Anna had touched him that way, once. But it hadn't been the same, not at all. There had been much more meaning and revelation behind Alex's hand coming to rest atop his. The instant their skin brushed, her fingers curling in hesitantly—he'd been suddenly aware that maybe he wasn't the only one who had these indescribable, confusing feelings. Her hand, her eyes, they had fleetingly confirmed the hope he'd buried deep down. And then she had run away and he'd had to follow, had to know why she'd done that, needing to hear it from her. It hadn't been his place to pursue that line of questions. It had been a huge mistake. And still, he remembered the feeling of her mouth against his, her body so soft in his arms, her mouth gasping into his...
Despite the cold, Castiel felt a flush of heat. His body, his mind, his every impulse and function had pushed him forward into her arms where he had given a kiss that he never should have even thought about, much less participated in. He cursed himself for not having the willpower to stop it from happening, even as, at the same time, he desired a thousand more kisses from her holy mouth...
All of the jumbled thoughts in his mind were overpowered by the memory of Alex's face when he had forcefully taken her memory. The look on her face when she had pleaded with him not to take it away haunted him. Haunted him. Tore at him inside. He had done that to her. No one else. Him—the one supposed to protect and guard her. He had taken something from her, intruded on and manipulated her mind. He already knew she was against such things. It wasn't his right and he realized that, but what other choice did he have? Let her remember? He'd said too much, revealed too much. Done too much. Endangered her. He almost wished he could erase it all from his memory, because every second, every millisecond of what happened in the panic room stayed with him in torturous detail. His eyes fell shut, a conflicted expression on his face. And all he could see in his mind's eye was her.
A cold breeze whistled across the surface of the frozen ocean he stood on, stinging the skin of his vessel, whipping his trench coat around his legs furiously. His thoughts persisted. How was he even capable of what he'd done? A few months ago, he never would have imagined this ever being in the realm of possibility. Yet here he was.
Even if she wouldn't remember his sins against her… he would always carry the moment with him and be left wondering what it all even meant: the consuming nature of his thoughts toward her, the way he wanted physical closeness, the anxiety when he didn't know where she was. He wondered, briefly and unintentionally: What if he hadn't taken the memory from her? What would have happened with them? She had asked if he had feelings for her. He had essentially said yes. And when she had said she felt the same—it had ignited something that still remained, smoldering deep within. It compared to nothing else he had ever experienced or seen on earth or in Heaven.
He almost physically shook himself at where his thoughts were leading. These were dangerous musings. It was impossible. Not only were angel-human relationships forbidden, but Lucifer had already shown Castiel that his worst fear was true. Alex would be used against him because of how much he cared for her. Any perspective he took, he saw himself as a danger to her. The best way to give her safety was to stay far away. He disliked that thought very much. And he knew he couldn't leave her completely. Not now. Probably not ever. But especially not now while her brothers were being hounded by Heaven and Hell, not while Lucifer seemed to have his sights set on her. Not now.
He found himself recalling the first time he'd seen Alex. October, 2007. She had been sitting on the ground, boots off, shaking bits of dead grass out of the insides of them—hair a mess, something or someone else's blood on her—shirt a little ripped, some scratches on her arms. Sam and Dean were nearby, packing weapons back into the Impala. They looked rough, too, but Castiel didn't remember the details of their appearance. He had been attentive only to her, not. Alex looked at her brothers with those large, watchful eyes, and Castiel saw her sadness as clearly as he could see her slouching shoulders, the arch of her long neck, the shiny silver whistle strung around that neck. Dean had called to her, and she had silently answered, going to her brothers who fussed over her scratches. Castiel hadn't understood why he was ordered to protect her, but he also hadn't needed to. He saw her and knew without knowing how he knew, that he was meant to be her guardian.
A handful of weeks later, after watching her pain and her silence, knowing he had the power to change it and wanting to... he had done exactly as his spirit compelled. There had been no other feasible option in his mind. It had been the right choice, not without consequences or hardship, but the right choice. He didn't question it, not then and not now. That had been before his vessel. The vessel, this human body, was the place where the questions truly began. Where the strange journey of temptation had commenced.
His vessel and the emotions that came with it complicated everything, making him unsure of himself and seemingly incapable of reasoning with any semblance of clarity. Everything was muddled and distorted, skewed by the curse of sentiment. The longer he was here, walking the earth in the body of a man, the more intensely he felt. He wasn't sure that he wanted to feel anymore. And yet he seemed to have no choice in the matter; there seemed no other path for him than the one he was on.
Drawing a deep breath, Cas looked around the snowy world, reflecting on the past two days which he had spent trying to uncover how Lucifer had summoned Alex with a mere snap of his fingers. The Enochian warding symbols on Alex's ribs—placed by Castiel himself—should have prevented Lucifer from knowing her location. But so far, Cas had learned nothing. He didn't know why. And the thought that the devil could at any moment lay hands on Alex while Cas remained blind to her location—disturbed him on the deepest levels imaginable.
His search for God: fruitless. His search for answers about Lucifer: thus far unsuccessful. He was discouraged and alone, feeling the absence of Alex in every way, in need of answers and possessing none... wishing for an escape from the constant noise in his mind but finding quiet nowhere. Not even here in a frozen wasteland, away from everyone and everything.
Two Weeks Later
Ketchum, Oklahoma
Legend says a pure soul can destroy evil from the inside.
Alex sat back from where she'd been hunched over Sam's laptop and she rubbed an eye with the heel of her palm. She'd been on the internet way too long. A bunch of the more 'mainstream' religions and mythologies had similar statements about a pure soul being able to destroy evil from an internal vantage point—that was the one recurring theme Alex was finding as she tried to find something, anything, to dispel or confirm what Crowley had told her. Whenever Sam and Dean were distracted or gone, she'd pull out the laptop and read everything she could on Lucifer—but she had yet to find a website that actually talked about literally killing him and/or how. She needed to get to some of Bobby's books, because the vague stuff she was finding on the web wasn't cutting it.
"Word on the grapevine is that you're the one who'll kill Lucy..."
Crowley's ominous words filled Alex's every waking moment. She didn't trust Crowley, or any demon for that matter, but what the hell was she supposed to make of the claim? She went back and forth between believing Crowley was just screwing around with her to wondering if he were being truthful. Where would such a rumor have even come from? It made no sense to Alex, who so far had been ignored by demons and angels alike. Everyone was after Sam and Dean. Alex had always been an afterthought (or forgotten completely—which was okay with her honestly). But maybe that was the whole point. Maybe they were distractions. But from what? Alex was driving herself crazy with questions and theories. She hadn't mentioned it to a soul and didn't plan on it either. Not yet anyway. She'd figure it out on her own and go from there. And besides—she had a feeling she hadn't seen the last of Crowley. However next time, she'd be ready for him.
Staring unseeingly at the laptop screen, Alex listened to the ringing silence of the motel room. She kind of wished, for a minute, that she hadn't wimped out about going along on the current hunt. But checking into a mental ward—even if it were to go undercover—nope. Not happening. She had a huge aversion to those places. Even driving by them skeeved her out. So, she remained behind. Alone.
It had been two weeks already since Carthage. Dean hadn't quite been himself since. Well, had any of them? They had really relieved the Colt would work. They were all the way back at square one with no clue how to kill the devil—or if it were even possible. Cas had seemed to think it wasn't possible from the beginning. Maybe he had been right.
A twinge of dysphoria ran through Alex's veins at the thought of him. Cas hadn't shown up since Carthage—after he disappeared abruptly, upset and riled. It was hard not to take it personally.
Alex knew he'd called Dean a couple times on the phone to check in, but that was it, nothing else, and it almost felt like he was avoiding her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong there, but she wasn't sure what. His absence was noticeable. Sometimes she looked up, expecting he'd be there. But he wasn't. Alex leaned her elbows onto the table and scrubbed her palms across her face. She was so very tired. But more in her mind than in her body. There was too much to carry. Ellen and Jo—sacrificing their lives for a whole lot of nothing. Dean—withdrawing and holding Alex at arm's length, treating her like she was a child. Sam—hesitant and guilty and avoiding her. Cas—gone and silent. Crowley's cryptic message, the idea that she might somehow play a role in this whole apocalypse thing. It was all so much. And she shouldered it alone. She took her face out of her hands, absently twisting Dad's wedding band around her index finger.
There was a soft sound in front of her and when she looked up she accidentally knocked a book off the edge of the table. It was Cas and he had a grim expression on his face. "I can't find out why Lucifer was able to summon you like that," he announced without any dalliance whatsoever.
Surprised, it took her a couple seconds to respond. "W—nice to see you too, Cas," she said as she shut the laptop and stood up, a little flustered. Then, frowning, she wondered aloud, "wait—how'd you know where I was?"
He glanced at her sidelong, troubled, his face hard with a stern frown. "I called Sam and he told me." The angel was distracted, on edge. "That's beside the point. Lucifer should not have been able to do what he did—the warding sigil I put in place—I haven't been able to learn why… or how he was able to do that." He looked around the room intently. "Why are you here alone?"
Alex shrugged, a little ashamed of her self-perceived cowardice. "The job my brothers are doing isn't exactly my... cup of tea."
Cas looked at her, expression twisting up in confusion. "What do beverages have to do with it?"
A smile popped onto Alex's face at his question and she tried to hide it. "They're, uh, hunting some kind of monster at a mental hospital here in town. Old hunting friend of Dad's is in there, Dean figured he owed the guy. But I, uh, don't do crazy houses." Cas's eyes narrowed just slightly.
He went to the motel room window and looked out, scowling. Alex studied him softly, thinking once again: something was off about him. "You shouldn't be left alone right now," he said grimly. His bright blue eyes flickered over to hers briefly. "It's too dangerous."
Maybe he meant well, but the comment made her mood drop. "Cas—I know you're my guardian angel or whatever, but I'm not some helpless moron. I can take care of myself."
He looked at her with eyebrows knitted together. The way he said it was aggressive, somehow. "Like you took care of yourself when Lucifer summoned you?"
Alex felt her eyebrows raise in surprise, and before she could stop herself, she was slinging an insult back. "Yeah and you were a big help stuck in your little fire circle, weren't you Castiel?" He was visibly hurt by her retort, and Alex regretted it immediately. Her gaze faltered and she felt herself fumbling for some kind of apology. "Sorry. I'm... just frustrated right now."
And that was the truth. No matter what she did, she felt weaker every day than the last. She used to fight hard and fear nothing. But these days, she ran from everything, lived in fear of the future and in fear that everything she did was in vain. Dean was treating her like she was a fragile china doll, Cas insisted that everything was too dangerous for her, and maybe it was—she'd chickened out of the latest hunt, after all. She felt smothered and ineffective. She wanted to matter. But maybe Gabriel had been right when he said that she was best at being a victim. She looked at Cas silently.
Cas took a deep breath, came away from the window but stayed back, further than usual, looking at Alex hesitantly. "I know that you are not, as you say, helpless," he said somberly. His eyes fell away from hers. "But there are bigger enemies after you than before."
Alex looked at him bleakly, nodding ever so slightly, feeling defeated. He was right. "I get it Cas," she said. "You're just looking out for me."
Again, his eyes darted to hers. "Yes." His jaw clenched tightly. "It's not like before, when I knew where you were at all times. You're hidden from angels. From me." His eyes focused on some distant point to his right. Alex could almost see how agonized he was at this point. "But not from Lucifer…" he trailed off.
Alex looked at him closely. She knew the whole Lucifer thing was bothering him, but there was something else. She could sense it. "What is it, Cas? Something else is wrong with you."
"I'm functioning fine, thank you," he replied darkly, pointedly avoiding her demanding eyes.
"You sure?" Alex asked, stepping a little closer, trying to read him. The second she did that, his eyes snapped to her. His expression seemed to chill over. She froze—he looked like he wanted her to get away from him, and she didn't understand. "Did I... do something?" she asked softly, lost and a little hurt.
But Castiel, eyes now going back and forth over the floor in front of her feet, shook his head just once, his voice deep and disturbed. "No, of course not," he replied, almost mumbling. "I—I have to go."
And he vanished without warning, leaving Alex stung. What the hell? Why was he acting like this?
It had only been the touch of a hand and the intention of a kiss—but apparently that was enough to completely repulse him. That was the only explanation she could think of. Well, he had been acting a little oddly toward her before that, too, hadn't he? Alex felt such a deep sense of embarrassment and humiliation. She had believed like a damn lovesick high schooler that Cas was interested in her in the way she had come to be interested in him. That the way he looked at her was because—she stopped the thought right there. This was ridiculous. Utterly laughable.
She sat down on one of the beds, feeling hollow and dumb. The motel room seemed emptier than it had before. She hated herself for the emotions she was feeling, and in a fit of rage she grabbed a book laying beside her and threw it hard. It hit a piece of motel room art and sent the painting crashing to the floor. Alex buried her face in her palms, breathing hard to keep herself from breaking down.
Invisible to her, Castiel remained, watching her with a face that was a mask of torment and longing.
A Week Later
"Wake up. Alex!" Dean's voice was loud and right in her ear as she was shaken roughly. She tried shoving him away, but he yanked her up by the shoulder—if that wasn't a rude awakening, she wasn't sure what was. Awake but barely, she glared at Dean while seeing that Sam was awake as well and looking equally unenthused.
"Dammit, Dean," Alex moaned. "This is the first time I've gotten to sleep in two days and you wake me up in the middle of the fucking night?!"
Dean ignored her and jerked his jacket on. "Anna just came to me in a dream and said we gotta meet her ASAP."
Alex stopped mid eye-rub. "Wait—whoa—Anna?"
"We shouldn't just drop everything and go, Dean," Sam put in tiredly, running a hand through his messy bedhead hair. "Could be some kind of trap."
Dean seemed to think that suggestion was ridiculous. "A trap? Come on, Sam. This is Anna."
"Who we haven't seen or heard from in months," Alex reminded even as she stood up, wishing she were still asleep. She got an ugly look for that one. "I'm just saying maybe we should be careful. We didn't even really know Anna."
Dean's expression remained gruff. "Speak for yourself," he said cryptically, getting a confused look in return.
"Alex is right, we need a second opinion on this," Sam said, pulling out his phone, the blue glow lighting his tired face as he began scrolling through his contacts. "I'm calling Cas."
Dean snatched the phone from Sam. "No, you're not," he said, ignoring Sam's bitchface and wagging the phone at him. "I don't need him raining on my parade."
Sam grabbed for his phone. "Give me—" he growled, "the phone!" Alex watched her apparently five-year-old brothers fighting over the phone. She didn't have time for this stupidity.
She exhaled an annoyed breath through her nose, resigning herself then looking at the ceiling. "Hey Cas, can you get your ass over here?"
The question drew strange looks from Sam and Dean.
"Hello," Cas said, suddenly in the middle of the room. Even though she'd called him, Alex was a little surprised he'd come, honestly, a little taken aback at how fast he responded. She contemplated him with tentative eyes, then when his gaze met hers, she looked away immediately.
"You can do that?" Sam asked Alex, kind of awed, then in quick succession, he began to frown. "Why didn't I know this? And give me that." He swiped the phone back from his brother.
"Need to know basis," Dean grumbled, then turned on Cas. "Sorry, wrong number," he said sarcastically. "You can go."
"No—" Sam said a little forcefully, giving Dean a surprisingly assertive stare. "Dean—tell Cas what you told us."
Castiel waited, listening, his expression somber and focused.
There was a very agitated huff. "Fine," Dean said, and looked at Cas, went over to him. "Anna came to for a visit in la la land. Said she needs our help right away. That she's been in prison this whole time. Oh. And that you're the one who got her put in there."
Alex and Sam, who stood back a little further, looked at Cas in unison. The angel's eyes had narrowed just slightly as he looked at Dean. "That's true, yes..."
"You wanna explain why?" Dean demanded gruffly.
Castiel paused for a moment and he was hard to read. He seemed mildly abashed. "I thought it was the right thing to do, at the time. Now... I realize that it was a mistake. This news is troubling." He looked at Dean, the frown deepening. "No one escapes Heaven. No one. You will not go and meet her."
Eyebrows raising, Dean crossed his arms. "Oh, and you're gonna stop me?"
Castiel responded by stepping closer. "If I must." Dean's expression showed surprise as Cas leveled him with an unflinching stare. "Dean, if she's here, if she's escaped Heaven, it's because she was sent." Cas paused. "She is not to be trusted."
"This is Anna we're talking about," Dean protested.
"Who we knew for a few days when she was human," Alex reminded. "She's been upstairs an awful long time, Dean." Both Cas and Dean looked at her in unison and she had to force herself to not look at Cas like she wanted to.
Dean didn't look as though he liked the implication, but he cut his gaze to Sam for a second opinion. Alex finally looked at Cas then, unable to stop herself. His guarded, intent gaze was directed at her. Her eyes fell away as her pulse leapt.
"I think Cas is right," Sam was saying to Dean, and Castiel tore his eyes away from Alex to turn his attention back to Dean.
"Give me the address she gave you," Cas said. "I'll discover her intentions."
Dean was clearly pissed, wanting to trust Anna but standing alone in the minority. He huffed. "Yeah. Fine."
A woman entered a large, dark, empty warehouse. Wind swept through the interior, and with it came the sound of whispering voices. "Hello?" the woman called, her brilliant red hair whipping around her face. "Who's there?" Over her head light bulbs burst, showering the entire warehouse in sparks. She stopped walking.
"Hello, Anna," Castiel said, appearing behind her. His voice echoed.
She turned around slowly, her dark eyes looking at him guardedly. "Well," she said. "If I didn't know any better… I'd say the Winchesters don't trust me."
"I don't trust you," Cas corrected her, looking at his sister angel carefully. "I wouldn't let them come." He began to circle her intently, giving a wide berth.
She kept turning to face him. "And why is that?"
"If you're out of prison, it's because they let you out," Cas said, glancing around the warehouse, watchful for some kind of trap. "And they sent you here to do their dirty work."
The other angel remained elusive. "What makes you so sure of that?"
"Because I've experienced…" he trailed off, remembering. "Heaven's persuasion."
"You mean when you gave me to them," she said with clear bitterness.
Cas regarded her somberly, regretting what he had done. "That was a mistake." He paused. "Anna, whatever they sent you here to do—"
"They didn't send me," Anna insisted almost angrily. "I escaped."
"No one escapes," Castiel replied testily—she was lying, she had to be—but Anna almost seemed amused at his comment.
"All these centuries, and you're underestimating me now?" she asked. "I escaped. I'm working on my own." She paused, mouth thinning a little. "Essentially."
"All right," Cas said, going along with her momentarily. "If you're not one of them, then what do you want?"
"I want to help." She sounded emphatic, but Castiel almost had to smile at the way she underestimated him.
"Then what are doing with that knife?" he asked, looking at her in superiority.
Her expression faded. She was caught. She grudgingly pulled out a knife—not an angel blade. "I'm not allowed to defend myself?" Another flimsy attempt on her part.
"Against whom?" Castiel asked. "That blade doesn't work against angels. It's not like this one." His angel blade was in his palm now, where she could see it and be aware of how prepared he was to fight her, if need be. Her eyes flickered from the blade to him, her eyebrows moved closer together. "Maybe you're not working for Heaven," Castiel said. "But there's something you're not telling me."
Anna's chin raised and she looked at him long, hard, and silent. Then finally, she spoke. "Sam Winchester has to die."
Castiel's eyes narrowed. He had suspected her of as much.
"I'm sorry, but we have no choice. Heaven is divided, Castiel," Anna said. "Some want the apocalypse. Others want to avoid it at all costs."
"And you want to avoid the apocalypse by killing Sam," Castiel surmised darkly.
"Yes," Anna replied simply. "He's Lucifer's vessel."
"He's not the only one."
"What, that guy Nick?" Anna shook her head as if that were a ridiculous thing to suggest. "He's burning away as we speak. No. There may be other vessels, but Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means: If Lucifer can't take Sam, his whole plan short-circuits. No fight with Michael, no Croatoan virus." She was unflinching. "I assume you've heard about the grim future ahead for everyone, Cas? For you?"
He looked at her sharply. "Bit and pieces."
Anna was frowning. "Maybe someone should show you the big picture. Because I've seen it all." She became pensive, eyes falling away from his. "And it's not pretty." She looked at him again. "We kill Sam Winchester and none of it has to happen."
Cas raised his chin slightly. "Even if you could kill Sam, Satan would just bring him back to life."
"Not after I scatter his cells across the universe," Anna said grimly. Cas turned away, disturbed. "They'll never find him. Not all of him."
Castiel clenched his jaw in deep thought. She did have a point. And maybe half a year ago, he would have gone along with her plan without a second thought. But things had changed, and he couldn't even allow himself to consider killing Sam. He turned back to her. "We'll find another way," he said, attempting to forge common ground.
"Oh, will we?" Anna was darkly amused. "Last time I checked we weren't really even on the same side anymore, Castiel. You've changed."
He turned slowly to look at her again, seeing no reason to dodge her accusation. He knew she was right. "Yes, I have." It was strange though, because she'd encouraged him to change. Now she seemed filled with disappointment at the fact. But she seemed different, too.
Anna came closer, beseeching him. "What I'm suggesting is simple—clean—reasonable. Why are you so adamant about protecting Sam Winchester? It's in vain. It ends this way, or it ends with the apocalypse and Lucifer walking the earth and subsequently destroying it." Castiel stared at the ground to her left. Anna continued. "How's the Colt working out? Or the search for God? Don't you see? Nothing else is working. If you want to stop the devil, this is how."
He looked at her finally. He hadn't given up on God, and he wasn't ready to concede that there were no options left. He wanted to believe there was a way, somehow. "I disagree."
This made her frustrated and angry. "I didn't want to do this. But you need to see exactly how bad it gets for the people you care about. I may have been in prison this whole time, but I've seen, Cas." She raised her eyebrows for just a second. "Everything you've been doing." Her eyes looked at him meaningfully. "Everything you will do. To Alex." At the mention of her, Castiel felt his defenses immediately rise. Anna seemed to see it, too. She almost appeared to pity him. "You care about her very much, don't you?" Anna paused, not seeming to entirely understand. "Well, maybe seeing what happens to her if you refuse to kill Sam… maybe that will change your mind."
Cas frowned, not understanding what she was talking about—was she referring to what Dean had told him about, how apparently, in the future, he somehow got Alex killed? Anna was stepping a little closer, raising her hand toward him, two fingers extended. "This might be a little intense," she said, and Castiel stepped back, trying to avoid the touch, but her fingers brushed his temple and it was too late.
In just a heartbeat, he saw vibrant detailed scenes that flashed in front of him without any time for him to even react.
In the span of perhaps two seconds, these are the things that Castiel saw...
Cas saw himself and Alex sitting with their backs against a wrecked car that was turned on its side. He wore the trench coat. She had a shotgun. Bullets whistled by, and Cas was staring at his hands in horror. "No, I'm telling you, it's gone!" he shouted, and he sounded panicked. Alex, gripping her shotgun close, looked at him in disbelief.
"How can it just be gone?!"
He shook his head, unable to respond. Alex craned her neck the other way, attempting to get a view of their assailants. A bullet barely missed her head, and she sat back, fast.
"Well, I wish I brought another shotgun," she commented wryly even as more gunfire popcorned through the air. Cas looked like he was about to be physically ill. "Hey," Alex said, demanding his attention, grabbing one of his shoulders. "Keep your head. Right? We're gonna get out of here."
He said nothing, but his alarm, panic, and dread was visible. Alex attempted to get him to look her by saying his name. "Cas." When that didn't work, she put a hand on his neck, her thumb resting on his jawline, saying his name again. He finally looked at her in the eye. Despite the war zone, the softest little smile sprung onto Alex's face. "Looks like it's my turn to protect you."
The scene faded into a new one, where Cas, still in his trench coat, was pacing a motel room. "You're far too reckless," he was saying angrily. "I lose my, I don't know, angel mojo today, and you risk your life like that? What would happen if you got injured?"
"Then I would be injured," Alex said, not hostile but not pleasant either. "I'm not gonna sit back and sip margaritas while Satan is trying to destroy the world. Sorry you lost your powers, but I risked my life before you, and I'm not stopping now either."
Cas looked at her almost sullenly. "Well I don't like it."
"You never have," Alex pointed out. There was a grudging little smile pulling at her lips.
Quiet in front of her, Cas was looking down at the ground, then at her. "...I just don't think I could live if you died," he admitted softly. Her smile fell, replaced by a sudden vulnerability. There was a long silence, and then he took her hand gently, looking down to watch his thumb stroke across the knuckles.
"...I'm not going anywhere," Alex said softly. He gave her a look like he wanted to believe but was too afraid to be able. An intense look lingered between them, slowly pulling them closer like magnets. At the same moment, they crashed to each other in a passionate, hungry kiss and very quickly began tearing at both their own and each other's clothing. The moment faded away into darkness.
A new scene. Dean paced in front of a very beat-up truck, scanning the distance in agitation. Behind him there was a campsite, cabins, and cars. It was dusk. Dean took a long swig from a bottle. Realizing he'd drained the last of the contents, he glared then threw it down to the ground where it shattered.
An old Toyota Landcruiser SUV pulled in. Dean zeroed in on it, appearing nearly murderous. Alex and Cas got out. Cas looked different. He was wearing different clothes: hunting boots, faded jeans, a wrinkled button up with a well-worn army-green cargo jacket. His hair was a little longer, raked forwards messily, and he had the beginnings of a beard. Alex looked tanner than before, a little older and more mature. She was healthier physically, not as thin as she'd been in the past. Her hair was messy and her shirt was lopsided. She straightened it and glanced at Dean, who blustered up on the two of them with a glare. Cas was already taking a defensive stance, standing in front of Alex purposefully.
"Why the hell are you two forty minutes later than everyone else?"
"Got lost," Cas said casually, glancing at Dean with mild irritation, then grimaced, wrinkling his nose. "Dean—how much did you drink? You reek."
Dean shot Cas a death glare, his voice already bordering on a shout. "Listen, this is the damn end of the world and I don't have time for you two to be screwing around!"
"Relax Dean," Alex said, but it sounded more like a command than an attempt to soothe her brother.
Dean was outraged. "Oh, relax? Yeah, great! Lucifer released the freakin' Croatoan virus, he's out there trying to kill us, and this little group of a hundred people is depending on me to tell them what to do and how to survive. Yeah, it's a real relaxing environment!"
"Look Dean, we're all living in the same hell, okay?" Alex fired back angrily. "Why do you have to act like you're the only one having a hard time?"
"Oh cry me a river, yeah, you two are having such a damn hard time, aren't you?" Dean asked, looking between the two of them pointedly. Alex remained resentful. He seemed to know something about them and was unhappy about it. Maybe it had something to do with their flushed skin and askew clothes.
Cas stepped a little closer to Dean, narrowing his eyes meaningfully. His voice was low. "Back off, Dean."
Dean's head turned smoothly, his expression nasty. "You got some nerve, man," he slurred. "This is none of your damn business."
"Actually, it is his business," Alex said immediately, not even giving Cas a chance to speak. Dean looked back at her, glaring and Alex returned the glare. "Cas and I are together, Dean, okay? We have been for a while now."
There was a silence. Dean looked at Cas, then at Alex, his jaw tight and nostrils flared. "When were you planning to tell me this?"
"What, to get your permission?" Alex asked sarcastically. Dean exploded.
"You don't think I deserve to know what's going on in my little sister's life?!" He moved toward her angrily, almost violently. Cas blocked his way, stepping in pointedly, holding out a hand and looking ready to deck Dean if need be.
"Dean—get back." Dean stopped, a piercing glare aimed at the other man. "Maybe you would know what was going on in her life if you ever made an effort to be part of it, Dean," Cas continued bitterly. Dean's expression chilled further. "You haven't even talked to her any time in the last year except to yell at her or tell her where she messed up a mission! And besides that, last time I checked," Cas continued, voice brimming with hostility and cynicism, "she's the one in charge of making her decisions, not you."
Dean suddenly got an odd smile on his face, then looked down, chuckling.
"What's so funny?" Cas asked suspiciously.
Dean looked back at him, his expression superior and hateful. "You," Dean said cooly. "You were a pretty sorry excuse for an angel, but you're an even more pitiful excuse for a man."
"Hey," Alex barked, coming forward and shooting daggers at Dean with her eyes. "Don't talk to him like that!" She looked at Dean in disgust. "You're a real asshole these days, you know that?"
"Maybe I am!" Dean shouted, once again wrathful. "But you two don't get to mess around like friggin' idiots when you're out on a mission again, you hear me? You come back when I say, no earlier, no later! There's a reason I'm in charge around here, and if you two wanna try and go against me, I got no problem kicking you out!"
There was a short silence. "Listen to yourself, Dean," Alex said, her anger fading into disillusioned sadness. "Who are you? What happened to my brother?"
"What happened to your brother?" he repeated, face twisted in anger. He was unresponsive to her softer tone, his voice still bordering on a shout. "A whole lot of shit, that's what!" He looked at her with near disgust. "And it doesn't help that you're being a lying bitch about everything either!"
At that comment Cas glaring dangerously, once again stepping into Dean's line of sight, his patience growing thin, his anger becoming more visible. He shoved Dean away, hard. "Watch the way you speak to her."
Dean steadied himself, seeming to find the shove amusing. There was a deep chuckle in his throat. "That's sweet Cas," he said darkly, "trying to stand up for your little whore."
The words were barely all the way out of his mouth before Cas sprung forward and punched him in the face, sending him stumbling backwards with a split lip. "Don't call her that!" Cas shouted, then in confused anger shook his head, staring at Dean, aghast. "Alex is your sister!" Cas shouted almost sounding like he was pleading. "What is wrong with you, Dean?"
Dean spat blood down onto the ground. "I call 'em like I see 'em, angel wings," he said cynically then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, giving them a dirty look as if he were considering retaliation. Then he shook his head, a dead-in-the-eyes smile on his face. "You're not even worth it, man." He turned and walked off into the night.
Alex looked close to tears. She stared after her brother then looked at Cas. "I don't recognize him at all anymore, Cas," she said softly, wounded. "He's changed. Ever since Sam left…" She looked down, choking on a sob. Cas stroked the hair against the side of her head tenderly, then kissed her forehead lingeringly, comforting her. He then looked back at where Dean had gone, expression troubled.
"Come on," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Let's go home."
The scene faded away into the interior of a cabin. It was bright inside, daytime. From the flowery trees visible through the window, it was clearly springtime. The cabin was decorated simply. Some yellow wildflowers sat in a vase on a small table. The table had two chairs. A painting of a sunset hung on one of the walls. There was a large, unmade bed, a little kitchenette, and a small couch. That's where Cas was sitting—one foot propped up and in a splint.
"I hate this," Cas said, forlorn.
Across from him and pulling a box out of the closet, Alex turned to look at him sympathetically. "I know." She wore a small shirt with tiny straps, and it bared some of her midriff. She came to sit beside him, the box on her lap.
"I'm useless," Cas continued. At that, Alex looked at him pointedly, wordlessly. He returned the look and she gave him a little 'don't go there' smile. He didn't seem to be able to stay unhappy, his face softening. He turned his attention to shifting himself, and gingerly repositioning his foot. He hissed in pain.
Alex winced sympathetically. "I'm sorry. Broken bones suck." She shifted the box on her knees then tried to make light of the situation. "Even angels bleed sometimes, huh?"
Cas got quieter, a little somber. "I haven't been an angel for a while now."
Alex looked at him sidelong, smiling crookedly, shrugging a little. "Well... you'll always be one to me." Cas sent her a sidelong look and Alex was suddenly flustered. "That, uh... sounded better in my head," she said, meeting his gaze with a self-conscious little grin as she laughed at herself. Her embarrassment faded into a meaningful gaze as his eyes stayed steadfast and affectionate.
"So." Alex cleared her throat. "Wanna help me look through this junk?" She put the box between them. "I haven't looked in here since I packed it all up a couple years ago." She pulled out a photo. It was her, Sam, and Dean, smiling, arms around each other. Her face immediately saddened. "Now I remember why." She looked at the picture somberly for a long, quiet moment before she let out a troubled exhale. "I don't think I can keep this."
Cas held out his hand, motioning for her to give it to him. "I'll keep it for you," he offered. "If you get rid of it, you'll always regret it."
She looked at the photograph intently for a minute. "I should've gone after Sam while I still could have," she said softly. Then she handed over the photograph to Cas, her expression full of conflict. She went back to looking through the box, visibly pushing her thoughts aside, and Cas watched her sidelong for a moment. He then helped her sort through the box.
He fished out a shiny silver object. "Well, hello!" he commented, turning it over in his hand.
"My whistle?" Alex was surprised and touched. "I forgot I even kept that."
He held it out to her and she took it, regarding it in a mixture of fond reminiscence and sadness. She then looked at him openly, and there was such a depth, such a mutual understanding in the shared gaze. "You should have this," she said quietly.
Cas looked surprised. "Me? No. Why?"
Alex moved the box onto the floor and scooted closer to Cas, pulling out the silver chain that was hidden beneath his shirt and undoing the clasp. "This whistle was pretty much a part of me for twenty-five years." Her eyes darted up to his. "You changed my whole life." She held his gaze, looked at him significantly. "Not just by giving me my voice."
He looked touched but still protested even as she was putting the whistle onto the chain—from which a silver ring already hung. "I can't—" Cas started.
Alex stopped a minute, eyebrows raised in a little playful, challenging expression. "Say no to me one more time, Castiel."
His eyes softened as a fond, crooked smile spread over his face. "Wouldn't dare."
"That's what I thought," she said teasingly, fastening the clasp back. She tucked it all back under his shirt and Cas caught her hand in his, holding as they wordlessly held a gaze.
Cas's eyes seemed to darken. "Come here," he told her huskily. Alex complied immediately, climbing onto his lap. Her legs rested on either side of him as her arms circled his neck, one of her hands against the back of his head, fingers in his hair. His hands came to hold her waist as he looked at her adoringly—there was no other way to describe it. "You... are the most perfect woman alive." Visibly embarrassed and pleased, Alex pressed a slow, sweet kiss to his lips. He smiled against the kiss, eyes closing. She drew back, putting a finger on his lips as his eyes opened again. She seemed to be trying to stop him from saying anything else, and he appeared to be amused by that, speaking against her finger playfully. "Well, I would know."
"Please just shut up," she said, grinning before she kissed him again, at first just to silence him. And then, after a couple seconds, the kiss deepened measuredly, becoming more passionate and noisier. The way they touched each other grew more sensual and possessive, hungrier. Alex moaned, a soft and incredible made when Cas's hand began to trace from her hip to her rib cage, moving upwards steadily.
It all faded away.
Cas was chopping firewood outside the cabin around the back. Orange leaves dotted the trees surrounding the area—autumn. There was a solid thunk as Cas split a log and he stood back, wiping sweat away with the back of his sleeve. Alex appeared in the doorway of the cabin, her face anxious and body language tense. Cas saw her arrive and was about to smile at her, then took in her appearance and facial expression. "Cas—come inside," she said. "Fast." She disappeared back into the cabin even as Cas wordlessly dropped the axe and did as she said. He climbed the few steps two at a time and entered the cabin to find Alex standing in the middle of the cabin, arms folded, expression intensely wrong.
"What is it?" Cas asked, going to her in concern. He grasped her arms gently, trying to get her to look at him. "Alex?"
She finally looked at him, expression close to horror. "Do you, uh, remember that last run the group did into the city? When you got mad at me for sneaking off to go to the drug store?"
"Yes, of course I remember—" Cas said, not understanding, sounding more than a little worried. "That was yesterday."
"Right, well—" Alex said, shaking her head, struggling. "I was getting a test." She seemed out of breath. "I thought I was just late." She looked at him in trepidation. "But… I'm, I'm not." Cas looked lost and even more worried. Alex swallowed, her voice lowering to a frightened whisper. She was close to tears. "I uh, I." Her jaw worked oddly. "I'm pregnant, Cas." He blinked twice. Alex waited for him to say something, then seemed to think he didn't understand. "With a baby," she clarified.
He let go of her and took a step back as if he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "I know what pregnant means."
"What are we gonna do?" Alex asked, close to tears. Her voice was strained and frightened. "This is no place for a baby! For a child!"
Cas took in her distress and then caught her hands up in his. "Our child," he said gently, chin bent down, eyes seeking hers. He sounded surprised and in awe and a little worried all at the same time. Alex's face softened as she met his gaze. "Our child," Cas said again, looking at her with eyes full of many different things—apprehension, uncertainty, but most of all, a growing intense emotion. "We made something, together… a new life." He sounded like the thought itself stirred him down to the soul.
A certain kind of stunned hopefulness started softening Alex's features. "I just… I thought maybe you wouldn't want this."
Cas looked at her in soft bewilderment. "I want everything with you."
Alex looked at him intently, breathing hard. "You're sure?"
"Yes I'm sure," he said immediately, touching the side of her face sweetly.
Alex looked somewhat relieved, but only for a moment. She became frightened again and her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Cas, I'm just so friggin' scared. I don't know how to do this."
He pulled her close into his arms, soothing her. "We're in this together," he told her quietly. Alex had her head laid on his shoulder, eyes closed tight. Her arms locked around him, seeking reassurance. One of his hands came to the back of her scalp, cradling her comfortingly. He pressed a single kiss onto the top of her head. A smile graced his lips as vast, watery emotion swam in his eyes. He shut those eyes, and breathed her in. For a minute they were still like that, then Alex pulled back enough to look at him. She looked like she were thinking a million things, and Cas seemed to know it, too. "I'm gonna take care of us," he told her, and those simple words visibly relieved her. A brave smile was coming over her face despite her worry and he pulled her into another solid embrace. He was smiling and his eyes were filled with light and tears of joy. "We'll find a way. We always do."
The scene ended.
Alex paced back and forth on a cabin porch, her expression tense and worried. "Chuck it's been two days and we haven't heard from them."
Chuck watched her from the corner of his eye. "You know how those old CB radios are, Alex. Probably quit working. They'll be back. They always come back."
Alex stopped pacing and leaned against the railing of the porch of her and Cas's cabin, one hand on her head as if she were tired or had a headache. Her other hand rested on her lower back. Chuck looked at her sidelong. "Are you sick or something?"
"No, why?" Alex asked mistrustfully.
"I just, I guess I can't believe you stayed behind on this mission. Seemed like a pretty big one." Alex said nothing, staring straight ahead of herself.
Chuck tried again. "It just seems kinda out of character for you to not go… you always go."
"Not this time, Chuck," Alex said cryptically. Chuck regarded her with something like knowing.
At that moment, one of the younger guards ran past, shouting over his shoulder, "They're back!"
Alex craned her neck, trying to see down the twisting road. Dean's Jeep had just become visible, heading up the caravan. "Thank God," Alex breathed, so relieved. Chuck glanced at her. She was already taking off down the porch toward the front of the camp where the cars would circle up. The other campers who had stayed behind were gathering, forming a small crowd as the cars pulled in. Dean swung out of his Jeep and Cas jumped down off the back, slinging his gun on its strap, scanning the crowd.
Alex pushed her way through, making a beeline for him. Catching sight of her, Cas grinned in relief. He had a cut on his face, as well as dirt and grime. Alex ran the last couple steps to him, throwing her arms around his neck even as he circled his arms around her, lifting her up into a tight embrace. "I am never letting you go anywhere alone, ever again!" Alex told him, legs wrapping around his strong waist. He pulled back to look up at her, his eyes wrinkling from his wide grin.
"What, you miss me?" he wisecracked, kissing her through both their smiles. Dean watched the reunion grimly, then stalked off in the opposite direction.
The scene faded.
Binoculars in hand, Alex and Cas stood on a plateau overlooking a small town. Cas's Landcruiser was parked next to them. "But this is the last time," he was saying. "This recon stuff, you know, pretty safe, but still." He lowered his binoculars. "Not safe enough. Forget the raids and Dean's crazy missions."
Alex was quiet a minute, and the breeze whipped her hair around her face for a couple seconds. "I agree."
Cas looked at her like he must have misheard. "You what?" He looked at her strangely. "You're not gonna argue with me?"
Alex lowered her binoculars and looked at him sheepishly then shook her head. "No."
Cas turned and faced her straight on, put a hand to her forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"
"A little sick, actually," she admitted, then good-naturedly reassured him. "I'm fine, I'm fine." She sighed. "I just know, for now, my out-in-the-field-days are gonna have to come to a close. To keep… the baby safe." She said 'the baby' as if it were still a foreign concept to her. A daunting but exciting idea she was still working to understand.
"I can stay behind with you," Cas offered, drawing a surprised look from Alex. "I don't have to go out on the missions, if it would make you feel better. You wouldn't have to worry about me."
"You'd do that?" Alex asked, touched.
"Of course," Cas replied, as if he didn't understand how she could think otherwise. "You're the most important thing to me. Out of everything."
Alex cocked her head to the side, a fond little smile on her lips. "You sure do know how to make a girl feel special," she said teasingly, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. He grinned at her, kissing her as she pulled him close. It was a deep, familiar kiss. He held her like he cherished every single thing about her and that moment both.
She curled into him after the kiss and he wrapped his arms around her protectively. "We're gonna do this, Alex," he said softly, reflective. "Have a life. A regular life in a crazy world. Our family." He said the word family in such a gentle, awed way.
Alex frowned over his shoulder, squinting into the distance, straightening. Something had caught her eye. "What was that?"
Cas looked back where she was looking. "What was what?"
"I thought I saw some movement up at the farmhouse," Alex said, setting her binoculars down on the hood of the SUV.
"An animal, maybe? There's never Croats out this far from the city," Cas said, but was pulling his pistol out anyway, checking the chamber. "I'll go check."
"Not alone," Alex said firmly, and he looked at her, clearly not wanting to have this argument. She was already drawing her pistol.
Cas looked like he was thinking about protesting, then let it go, telling her, "just stay close."
Together, they approached the run-down farmhouse, sweeping the area with weapons ready. "There," Alex said, motioning her aimed pistol toward the window to the right of the main doorway.
There was a flash of movement and Cas tensed, holding out an arm. "Stay back," he muttered. Alex complied, but stayed on alert, her gun covering him, her eyes darting around, making sure they weren't being approached from behind or the side.
Cas slowly climbed the stairs up onto the large porch, his pistol held high. "I don't see—" he whispered… then froze. He muttered a curse word even as the front door burst open. Croatoans, at least seven of them, burst out, hungry for blood. "Get back, get back!" Cas was yelling as he emptied rounds into them, stumbling backwards down the stairs. It happened in less than three seconds—one of the Croats jumped off the porch railing and straight onto Alex, knocking her to the ground, catching her completely off guard. A gunshot rang out.
Cas didn't even see it happen but he heard her scream and whirled to look at her, almost getting himself killed in the process. The last Croat grabbed onto him, trying to bite him—savagely, Cas pistol-whipped his attacker across the face and shot him point-blank, then immediately charged the couple of feet over to where Alex was. He grabbed the Croat off her, throwing a sloppy punch and then shot the guy two times in the chest, barely able to hold the gun. The Croat fell over dead.
Alex lay flat on the ground, blinking and stunned as Cas dropped to her level, seeing the bloody bite wound on her shoulder. Visibly losing something mentally, Cas let out a soft, shocked sound and immediately whispered, "no!" He shakily gathered her into his arms, supporting her, and she looked at him with glazed over eyes, confused. She was breathing heavily. It was a deep, vicious bite wound on her shoulder. Blood spilled out, down her arm, staining his clothes too as he pulled her close. Cas fumbled, pulling her up as he stood and carried her away, stumbling back toward their vehicle. Alex's head sagged and she grimaced, groaning in a daze.
"I… I got bitten," she said blankly, in shock.
"You're, you're okay, you're gonna be fine!" Cas told her frantically, setting her down in a sitting position against the tire of the car, looking at her wound in alarm. "Fine, just fine, let me see," he was continuing. Alex shook her head no over and over again. Their eyes met, both pairs filled with dread.
"Cas—" she managed. He had a useless, shaking hand pressed hard down on her wound. "Cas, I'm gonna turn," she said in the softest voice.
He shook his head in vehement denial. "No, no you're not." He sounded angry almost.
Alex gave him an unexpectedly brassy look tainted by uncoordinated wooziness. "Do you see this bite?"
He did, but his expression showed nothing but stubborn, fearful defiance. He almost didn't seem to hear what she'd said. "You're going to be fine," he insisted again in a rising, choked voice, not really looking at her, his words beginning to run together. "I'm going to get you out of here, and, and you're gonna be fine Alex, I'm gonna get you home, and you'll be—"
"Cas, stop!" Alex seemed suddenly and absolutely terrified. She breathed hard a few times out of her nose, then her eyes fell downwards to her bleeding shoulder. "We both know I am not gonna be fine." Her voice broke at the end.
"No," Cas protested weakly, his voice breaking hopelessly. "Don't say that," he pleaded. Alex was filled with a sudden, quiet, dread-filled resolve. Cas saw it and went still in cold dread. Alex took his gun out of where he'd shoved it into his waistband. He looked from it to her in disbelief, face gone slack. Her eyebrows moved closer together as her eyes pleaded silently with him.
He was shaking his head weakly, silently. Alex's voice hitched. "Please Cas, you have to..." she whispered, eyes filling with tears. She pushed the gun at him into the palm of his hand, using her other hand to close his fingers around it. They stayed like that for a minute, Cas looking at her in lost, terrified dismay. He didn't move.
Alex groaned suddenly, screwing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth in pain, to which Cas looked even more terrified, grabbing her harder—and his eyes were shining with unshed, panicking tears. "Cas, please," Alex said, growing more urgent. He took the gun but looked at her unmovingly, shaking his head again, adamant. A horrible sobbing sound escape out of his mouth. "If you don't, then I have to, and I can't," Alex said brokenly, barely able to speak in an even tone.
"I'm supposed to keep you safe," Cas said, looking at her in abject horror. "Not kill you!"
"There's no other choice," Alex said. "If I turn and then hurt you—" she stopped herself, eyes tearing up. "It's too late for me, Cas!" she said, crying now. Cas just stared at her, dismayed. "Please. Just do it!" Alex insisted, panicked, voice rising in fear and urgency.
Cas's face broke. "I can't, I can't!"
Alex grabbed the gun by the barrel with shaking hands, practically stabbing it into her stomach. "Cas, shoot me!" she screamed. "Shoot me!"
Their eyes locked and Cas sobbed out loud, his face the picture of misery and grief. "I'm so sorry," he managed in a tight whisper. The gun cocked with a loud click and they clung to each other tenderly, weeping for what was about to happen. He touched his forehead to hers and shook his head no, clenched his eyes closed, and whispered through choked tears I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry over and over again and she shut her eyes, waiting, trusting him in this final moment, whispering that she loved him.
And then the sound of the gunshot cracked through the thin autumn air like thunder.
Alex and Cas stared at each other in shock and horror—like neither could believe he had actually pulled the trigger. And then Alex whimpered in intense pain, face crumpling, and Cas threw the gun aside, trembling, beside himself, pulling her into his lap, cradling her as blood pooled across her abdomen.
"I'm… I'm so sorry," Cas said, barely able to speak through tears. His face twisted in defeat and horror and gleamed with tear tracks.
Alex blinked weakly, staring up at the sky. "It's... okay," she said softly, sounding far away. Her face scrunched up in pain and she made a horrible sound. Cas gripped her tighter as she breathed hard through gritted teeth, staring at the sky again. "Cas… do you... d-do you think there's still a Heaven up there?" She suddenly looked so much younger and vulnerable. Her teary eyes found his and her chin quivered. "Where we can be together again?"
"Yes, of course there's still a Heaven," Cas told her immediately through his tears. Doubt filled her face.
"I hope you're right," she whispered, then sobbed in pain. Her breathing was becoming shallow and labored, but she looked up at him and suddenly there was a brave little smile through the pain. At the sight of it, Cas touched the side of her face in broken tenderness, hand tightening as his expression struggled not to break. She looked at him a moment, eyes thoroughly traveling his face. "I love you. So much," Alex whispered, eyes locked onto his, expression soft and anxious. She grew intense. "Promise me, Cas." She swallowed, pained. "Promise you won't blame yourself for this, okay? I—" she grimaced again. "I know how you are," she said through gritted teeth, fighting to maintain eye contact.
"Alex—" he begged waveringly, looking at the woman in his arms with such guilt and pain. He pressed a long, aching kiss to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered a little, her hand weakly coming to touch his face then going to the back of his neck, pulling him toward her for one last kiss which he readily gave. It was gut-wrenchingly gentle, slow, fervent, and they both made soft sounds of grief at the action. She grabbed one of his hands when they pulled apart, afraid. "I'm with you," he whispered, gently grasping her hand in return, running his thumb over the top of her hand gently, tracing familiar lines. "We belong together." His face was a battlefield of pain, denial, and grief, each fighting for dominance. As if sleepy, Alex blinked and nodded as her eyes got hazy. And then her eyes went dark and her body lost its life. She went completely limp in his arms.
Cas looked like he'd stopped breathing, as if he were frozen. He stared at Alex motionlessly, stunned. He asked her name softly, and when no reply came, when it was clear to him that she had died, he lost it, face crumbling as he clutched her body to himself. He wept loudly and began to scream, his bellowing cries echoing across the surrounding wasteland.
The scene faded.
"Yeah, Chuck, it's just—" Dean looked over his shoulder, pausing mid-sentence, frowning at the sound of a car coming.
"Ah good, they're back," Chuck said, sounding relieved.
"Geez, and it's about damn time, too," Dean grumbled at the sight of Cas's Land Cruiser pulling up. Then, he frowned deeper, pausing. Only Cas was in the car. And then, as he stopped the car and got out, both Dean and Chuck went still. Cas looked horrible and pale and had blood all over. The look on his face said everything. He looked at them with a broken expression then opened the back door, pulling something out. Dean seemed to stop breathing when he saw what Cas had pulled out of the back seat and was carrying toward them. Alex. Covered in blood. Limp. Dean walked forward as if in a dream. "No," he said softly. His sister's skin color was unnaturally pale, bloodless, her lips pale and soft blue. She was clearly dead. Dean began to back up, and again he said, "no," more adamant that time.
"She—it was a Croatoan—" Cas said blankly, looking in Dean's general direction unseeingly. His fingers clenched into Alex's body like vices.
"You—you weren't supposed to let her get hurt," Dean said, shellshocked.
"I know," came Cas's agonized reply.
"You were supposed to protect her," Dean said again, hollow. Then, suddenly, he was enraged. "You were supposed to protect her!" Cas looked at Dean completely devoid of response.
Dean went forward, reaching out for his sister, barely holding himself together. "Give her to me," he said, grief breaking his voice.
Cas's eyes snapped to Dean's. "No." Cas looked down at Alex for the first time, and his expression distorted, his voice wavered. "I can't."
"Like hell you can't!"
Cas responded by falling to his knees and breaking down, clutching Alex. "You can't take her from me!" he sobbed out brokenly, clinging to the dead body, refusing to let go as he wept bitterly.
The scene faded.
Dean sat across from Alex's body, which lay in Chuck's cabin. She'd been changed into another shirt, a long sleeved one that hid her shoulder wound. She looked like she could have been sleeping, even though she was so pale. Dean gazed at her silently. "Do you remember that time you glued my shoes to the floor, kiddo?" He shook his head, a soft, sad little smile on his face. "I was so damn mad." He looked at her face carefully, memorizing every detail. "Couldn't stay mad too long though. My little sidekick." His smile faded, his voice hitched. Memories seemed to pass in front of his eyes and he broke down. "I've missed you so damn much." He put his face in his hand, tortured. "Why'd it all have to fall apart?" he asked, forlorn, frustrated, beyond sorrow. "Why'd you leave me? Why'd you fall for Cas? And why couldn't I just let it go?"
He shook his head in self-loathing, tears running down his face. "I pushed Sam away, was too proud to admit I did the same to you… guess I thought because you were a few doors down we were still close." Dean bowed his head miserably, a broken man. "I'm so, so sorry Al. I'm so sorry."
There was a soft noise behind him, and Dean stood up, expression darkening, tears forgotten. "Cas."
Cas stood in the doorway looking even worse than he had before—disheveled, mentally deficient, grief-torn. Dean looked at him threateningly. "Get outta here, man."
"I loved her Dean," Cas said, his voice low and unsteady.
"Well that doesn't matter now, does it?" Dean retorted bitterly. "She's dead no thanks to you!"
There was a long, pained pause. "I had to Dean," Cas managed, but he didn't sound like he believed it.
"Like hell you did!" Dean snapped, and advanced on Cas, visibly shaking. "Alex was the only damn thing left in this world that I cared about or loved, I didn't want to but I trusted you to keep her safe and this is what happens?!" Dean was irate, messed up, riled. "You let her get bitten then you shoot her in the stomach?!" He shook his head, a muscle jumping in his cheek. His fists were clenched at his sides. "You're lucky I don't fucking kill you where you stand, Cas."
Cas just looked at him, then his eyes went downward. "Maybe you should."
Dean took that as an open invitation, slugging Cas across the face. Cas stumbled back, his face turned from the force of Dean's fist. But he made no move to retaliate, he just sadly looked back at Dean, who again punched him for all he was worth, not just once—he began to beat Cas into the ground, blow after blow, blind and enraged and ruthless. Cas did nothing—just took it.
Suddenly, two other men rushed into cabin and broke them apart. "Whoa, stop, stop!" Chuck shouted as one of the camp guards held Dean back. "What the hell!" Chuck demanded, beside himself. Cas sat slumped against the wall, his face bloody and bruising. Chuck was completely aghast. "Dean, you're beating the man your sister loved… with her body still in the room? What is wrong with you?"
Dean jerked out of the guard's grip, looking at Chuck and then Cas guiltily. Cas was dazed. Chuck shook his head. "Listen. I know you both loved Alex more than anything. I know you're both hurting. But this has got to stop! I've watched you two fight over this woman for years now, and it has got to end!" He paused, embittered. "What would she say if she could see this?" He shook his head blankly. "You were friends once. Best friends."
Dean and Cas glanced at each other then looked away. Chuck appealed one last time, looking at both pointedly. "This is no one's fault. Sometimes, things just happen."
Cas's head was bowed now. Dean looked at his sister's dead body, then at Chuck. "Yeah, maybe someday I'll believe that," he said tersely. "But not today." He stormed out.
The scene faded.
It was night in Cas's cabin, and no lights were on. There was a loud crash. Cas threw one of the table chairs at the wall where the painting of a sunset hung. The chair broke as the painting fell off the wall. In a rage, Cas took another swig of green liquid out of the bottle in his hand, letting out animalistic bellow before he kicked over the kitchen table then threw a plate that had been sitting on the counter. He took another long drink from the bottle then threw it at the wall violently. He grabbed the painting and threw it out the cabin door with a shout of rage, then he turned and knocked everything off the top of the dresser where it sat in the corner. He ripped the mirror off the wall and sent it crashing to the floor. A picture of him and Alex sat in a frame beside the bed, and he took it and threw it hard with another strange, pained shouting sound, panting and crazed.
He yanked open the closet where some shirts that were clearly Alex's hung. He went still and stared at them a long moment, his rage ebbing. Then he shut the closet door again, jaw tightening. He grabbed his handgun from where it was tucked into his belt, and with a dark expression, he marched out the back door, stumbling in the dark, catching in thickets of thorns but not even seeming to notice.
The moon was high and washed the landscape in pale silver, and he stopped there, at the tree line, holding the pistol to the side of his head, putting his finger on the trigger—and then nothing. There was a long moment where he obviously tried to make himself pull the trigger. But he seemed unable. He muttered a dark curse word and then a horrible sound of grief tore out of his mouth.
He let the gun fall. Breathing heavily, jaw clenched, he flew into another fit of blind rage and ran full force into the large tree trunk in front of him, bashing himself into it. He fell backwards, landing hard, making sounds like sobs, but not from physical pain. He stood up drunkenly, looked around for the gun again, topsy-turvy.
"Cas?" came a voice behind him. Cas turned, grabbing at the owner of the voice, slamming them violently up against the same tree he'd just slammed himself into. "It's me Cas, it's Chuck!" Chuck squeaked, hands raised in surrender.
Cas let go, blinking woozily, disconcerted and crazy. "You, uh, you okay?" Chuck asked, to which Cas exploded, grabbing Chuck with renewed vigor and misdirected rage.
"There's no Heaven, Chuck!" He shouted with hateful emphasis on the word 'heaven.' "She's gone forever. FOREVER! Nowhere! She's nowhere and there's nothing and it's my fault!" Cas threw Chuck down onto the ground and began pacing manically. "I shot the woman I love," Cas said, sounding defeated, then suddenly enraged again. "I murdered her!"
He stopped, putting a hand on his face which was twisted up in pain. Chuck watched silently, keeping his mouth shut while not getting up from where he'd been thrown. Cas shook his head and crumpled to his knees, both hands on his face now, miserable sobs shaking his entire body. "Leave me alone," he choked out. "Just leave—me—alone. Let me die. I'm dead without her. I'm nothing. I lost the only thing worth living for."
The scene faded away into a new one.
Crouching, Cas laid a bundle of yellow wildflowers at the base of a wooden cross etched with the initials A.E.W. He looked somber and stoic, his eyes slightly hooded. "She's been gone six months now, Chuck," he said, addressing the man who stood behind him watching silently with hands in his pockets. Cas looked out of sorts. His hair was longer and shaggy, unkempt, there were dark circles under his eyes. His color was sallow. He stood up, looking toward Chuck. "Six months." His mouth was in a thin line. "I don't think I can take much more." Cas stated it almost emotionlessly.
Chuck looked at him carefully. "I thought we went over this the night of the funeral," he said. "When you tried to kill yourself."
There was a cynical attempt at a smile on Cas's face. "Yeah, well, I still think about doing it every day," he said nonchalantly. "I've tried a few more times." His expression faded into loathing. "But like the moron that I am… I can't seem to make myself do it. I can't do it right."
"Cas..." Chuck said, putting a hand on Cas's shoulder.
Looking at Chuck's hand with distaste, Cas shrugged away from him and walked off a couple steps, then stopped. He sounded authentic again, briefly. "Living without her is the most painful—" he took a deep breath, eyes filled with heavy sadness. "She was the way I understood the world, Chuck. She taught me how to be human." He was completely still, and sounded earnest, lost, desperate. "I don't know how to love anyone but her. And I don't want to." For a minute, he looked like himself. "I just wish I could go back in time. Change everything." He suddenly chuckled darkly. "Wow. Sometimes I hear the things I think and I'm like, how could someone be such an idiot? Why do I even bother? I'm not even alive anymore. I'm just stalling. Putting off the inevitable. For no damn reason."
"Don't talk like that, Cas," Chuck said. He'd walked after Cas and was standing in front of him now. "You're important."
Cas rolled his eyes at Chuck. "I'm important? To who? Who the hell would care if I disappeared tomorrow? Dean? He tolerates me. The women I bullshit all day long? Yeah, right. You? Don't make me laugh." Cas gave a sharp, derisive sound. "I'm not important. I only live to get wasted." He sobered, melancholic again. "I'm pathetic." His jaw clenched tight, his eyes went down, his voice cracked. "She would hate me if..." Cas swallowed, trailed off. He clenched the forgotten bottle in his hand, lifted it and took a swig. His eyes glittered with tears.
"Stay alive, Cas," Chuck said emphatically, watching his friend in concern. "You're still alive for a reason, I know you are. You matter."
Cas looked at him as if insulted. "You sound like a damn religious handout," he said darkly, then walked off angrily, leaving Chuck by himself.
The author sighed, then shrugged sadly. "You tried, Chuck," he muttered to himself, then looked back at Alex's grave for a long moment. "He really loved you, didn't he, kiddo?" He paused. "Maybe too much."
The scene faded.
There were a few cars gathered up, people loading weapons and getting ready for some kind of assault. Alex—Alex from 2009—was there with Cas, off to the side, behind a truck. An intense look lingered between the two who stood too close. Alex whispered something to him, and Cas's face changed, becoming fierce and soulful. With deliberation he kissed her, soft and careful—then Alex pulled on him with sudden passion, and the kiss became something else entirely. Cas pressed into her, she bumped up against the side of the truck they were beside, she let out a soft little moan—he roughly grabbed her hips, lifting her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, the kiss deepening even more, their hands tangled in each other's hair and—then it ended when the sound of arriving cars cut them short. They broke apart panting, staring at each other.
Without anything further, the scene faded.
An abandoned building, wrecked inside, run down: Cas laid in a pool of his own blood, several gunshot wounds riddling his chest and abdomen. He gasped for air, dying, looking at a photograph in his hand. He seemed to lose his strength, and then the life went out of him and he breathed his last.
The sound of dress shoes clicked, echoing, as a tall man entered the room. It looked like Sam. But it was Lucifer, dressed in a white tuxedo. He seemed almost sympathetic as he looked down at the dead body at his feet. "Ah, brother…" he commented softly. "How the mighty have fallen." His head tilted to the side just barely as his eyes traveled Cas's dead body and face. "A shame things had to end this way for you."
Lucifer crossed the room, over to a window, looking out. "You should have joined me while you had the chance, Castiel," he sighed, looking back at Cas's body briefly. He was cold, superior. "But no. You had to do it your way."
Lucifer returned his gaze to the window. "Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven," he said to no one. He gazed out of the window triumphantly, his eyes chilling and never blinking. He took in a deep, pleased breath. "Hell on earth. Heaven just a memory." The smile deepened. "I win." With his finger, he drew a pitchfork in a splatter of blood on the glass of the window.
And it all faded out.
Everything Castiel had just seen had rushed his mind in the span of a couple second. He was still in the middle of taking a step backward when everything came hurtling back: the warehouse, Anna, reality. Completely stunned he stared at her, breathing heavily as he reeled. His mind could barely process everything he'd just taken in and seen.
Anna looked at him intently. "You saw." He could only look at her in horror. She seemed satisfied at his speechlessness. "So, now you see," she said, urgently. "Sam Winchester has to die, or all of that happens. The pain, the broken relationships. The world, practically destroyed. You, a miserable and destroyed shell. Everyone you cared about dead and gone." She looked at him significantly. "Lucifer walking the earth, no one left to defeat him." She raised her chin. "We can stop all of that. Today."
When he said nothing, she lost some of her certainty, frowning at him. Castiel shook his head again, regaining some composure, hiding his inner terror just barely. "The answer's still no, Anna."
Anna's face contorted in utter disbelief. She then became almost angry. "You're actually willing to let all of that happen? To Dean? To Sam?" Anna stepped a little closer. "To her?" At that, Cas looked at Anna, who was shaking her head almost in disgust.
"What you showed me—it's not real," Cas said vehemently, in denial. "I don't believe it," Cas said, faltering. And he didn't. He couldn't.
"Why would I lie to you?" Anna asked insolently.
"You've already lied to me today, and you just want… to trick me into helping you." Cas accused, then turned halfway, allowing the shadows to obscure his face. He was struggling, and badly. "None of what you showed me…" he said tremulously, "it's not possible." Was it?
"At this point in time, it's definite," Anna said defiantly. "The only one lying here is you. To yourself. That future happens. Everything you saw happens, no matter what you do after today. This? What I'm proposing? It's the only way to change that. Don't you want to?" She went quiet, giving him a chance to speak, but he said nothing. She tried again, forcefully now. "Destiny doesn't have to be set in stone, Cas. We can change it. All we have to do is kill Sam. He dies so that they can live." Still, Cas said nothing, and Anna grew more ardent. "The Croatoan virus never has to even exist—you can save billions, Cas. Use your head! This is the right thing to do!" Anna stopped, her eyes full of meaning. "Do this one thing and the woman you love can live." The woman he loved? Hearing it put that way made him defensive. Cas turned on her, murderous almost. Anna appeared mystified. "Don't you want that?"
Cas looked at her unblinkingly, his voice low and dangerous. "Anna, you and I have been through much together." He stepped a little closer, his angel blade still in his hand, raising just slightly. "But you come near any of the Winchesters, I will kill you without hesitation."
Anna looked at the blade, then at him, disappointed and not understanding. She backed up one step. "I don't think you'll ever regret anything as much as what you decided here today, Castiel." It sounded like a threat. She disappeared.
The second Anna vanished, Cas exhaled a shaking breath. "The woman you love—" echoed in his mind relentlessly. He could barely breathe. It was as though the things Anna showed him had physically rendered him momentarily incapable of standing. His mind spun with the images he'd seen, the words he'd heard. It felt as though something had been ripped out of him—he couldn't make sense of it, couldn't understand—was that real? Had all of that truly happened? Was that really the future? Their future? All he could hear was the sound of a deafening gunshot and the strangled cries of Alex as she laid dying in his arms...
Alex.
He looked up suddenly, a horrible thought crossing his mind—if Anna were gone, Sam was in danger, and possibly Alex and Dean, too. Without a second thought, Castiel flew immediately back to the motel room where the Winchesters waited.