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.

36. Can't Run Forever

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 36 / Can't Run Forever

"There are two things you cannot hide from: God and a dysfunctional family."
-R. Alan Woods

---

Dust filtered through the air, catching the midmorning light that came through the attic windows. The only sound in the cluttered space was of heavy, slowing breathing.

Castiel's head was bowed onto Alex's shoulder and he remained there resting, just listening to the sound of their breathing while feeling the beat of her heart against his chest. His eyes stayed shut and he took in every sensation, every feeling. His arms held her close, hers were around him too—he could feel all of her bare skin damp with a sheen of perspiration pressed up against his. And the reality of what he had just done with her washed over him anew as the feelings of bliss faded.

Cas drew his head off of her shoulder and found her eyes waiting to meet his. He felt the stab of guilt in his stomach again, but attempted not to show the emotion he felt. He remembered how it had upset her last time when she'd seen his conflicted feelings. And this time he had no right to be torn or regretful—he had asked her for this. However, as soon as their eyes locked, he knew that she saw the truth of his feelings, even if he didn't want to feel them. "What's wrong?" she asked him so softly, concern filling the face he loved so much.

The fact that she so easily saw through him made him feel even worse. He felt like he'd done something wrong. Something sinful—and perhaps that was due to his nature. As an angel, he had never understood what led humans to desire the act. But now, here on earth, walking in the body of a man, being awakened to a horizon of emotion and sensation… being near her physically, learning the spark of a kiss, tasting the thrill of her touch… falling into her arms and discovering a heaven so unlike the one he had drifted down from… he understood.

But he still struggled. He wasn't sure how it could feel so obscene and divine at the same time. Castiel worried. Was he a sinner? He thought of the feelings she gave to him when he was inside of her, when she wrapped herself around him and called him forward to a small death he wanted to die over and over again… these feelings and sensations weren't simply physical and couldn't be tied to just his body. Here in her arms, even now despite his guilt, he felt connected in a way beyond the physical. As though he were forever bound to her, and her alone.

A minute ago he'd told her he would rip down the laws of nature itself to save her from the future they'd seen in 2014, and he wasn't even sure what had prompted him to say that—he'd just felt so intensely, like all of his thoughts and feelings were so close to the surface. All he'd wanted to do was give those thoughts and feelings to her. He wanted to give everything to her.

"Cas?" she asked, looking at him closely, her eyebrows growing closer still in worry. "What is it?" He realized he hadn't answered her initial question.

"I'm…" he didn't know how to reply, he could barely look her in the eyes—she was flushed, naked beneath him, it was right after they had engaged in the most primal human act he could think of. He'd made her writhe and gasp and tremble and reach ecstasy, she'd made him lose himself and make sounds he didn't know how to make. They'd found some beautiful moment together, a moment of pleasure and connection and other things Castiel wasn't sure how to describe fully. But he couldn't bear the thought that he'd wronged her in any way. He was an angel and it had been hammered into his mind: Sexual relations outside of marriage were a sin, but sexual relations between an angel and a human… weren't even allowed. And yet here he was. "I'm... unsure what to feel right now," he confessed honestly, worried about how she would react.

Her expression softened. "It's okay," she told him quietly. She seemed to understand how vast and complicated his feelings were, she seemed relieved he didn't say something else. "I know."

To hear her say that comforted him. After another moment of quiet together, Cas realized it was likely time that he should remove himself from her—and almost reluctantly he did so, shifting himself away with a shudder. Alex took in a sharp breath and bit her lip glancingly. Cas missed the look of loss that shimmered over her features. He was glancing down at himself. He had never been unclothed like this before or really examined... himself. He was a little surprised at what he saw, then suddenly he didn't understand. She was a more petite person, and he had suddenly discovered that the body he was in... was not petite in specific places. "Isn't it a little... large...?" he asked, perplexed—and she was staring at him with the most peculiar expression, and then she shocked him when she burst into a peal of bright laughter. "What?" he asked, confused. "Did I phrase myself incorrectly?"

She had a hand over her mouth. "No, it's—I—you—" she couldn't stop laughing, a tear leaked out of her eye she laughed so hard. Her eyes were crinkled up, her laugh was so boisterous and carefree. Cas felt his confusion fading, felt his face softening and brightening. She suddenly stopped, looking at him in dawning surprise.

"You're… smiling," she said, looking up at him with astonished, entranced eyes. And Cas realized he felt it—his mouth was quirked up to one side, lips parted, revealing teeth. To his knowledge, he never had done that before. He realized he could feel the smile everywhere, not just on his face.

"I've... never seen you laugh like that," he said, still thinking about it. He was fairly sure that was why he had smiled. She seemed so different to him in that moment. Completely soft, open, unburdened. No guard up.

She thought about it a second. "...I feel happy," she concluded seeming to be surprised to hear herself, too. "Crazy... with everything that's happening. But... yeah. I feel happy right now." She touched his bare shoulder with her fingers, looking at it briefly, then back up at him, a shade more shy. "Here with you."

Her simple touch and words made his stomach feel as though it turned a flip. He bent his head down, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. He felt the same way and it was thrilling and terrifying all at once. "What do we do now?" he asked softly, nervous again. Perhaps he was supposed to get up and dress immediately.

Alex was quietly hopeful. "Can you just… stay with me awhile?" she murmured.

Cas relaxed—yes. That was what he wanted too. "Of course," he replied softly. With both caution and a growing feeling of safety, he moved to lay close beside her, keeping his arms around her securely—and she reached across his torso, pulling his discarded trench coat over them like a blanket. She bowed her head down and rested it against his shoulder.

Underneath the heavy fabric, she pressed up against him, bare skin to bare skin, and Castiel was in awe of this atmosphere, the feeling of her arms wrapped around his middle, her head resting against his shoulder. His body still echoed with reverberations of what she'd given to him. The air around them was thick and sweet, heavy. How could anything in existence be better than this?

"I don't even know your favorite color," she suddenly said, prompting Castiel to become quickly confused.

"Um. What?"

She drew back a little, looked him in the eye, regarded him with thoughtfulness, and didn't answer him for a long moment. "Just… I wanna know you. Everything." She looked at him like she was trying to decipher an intriguing riddle. "I mean… do you miss Heaven? Do you like music? Were you ever an angel kid?" She seemed so lovely to him right then, looking at him like that, wanting to know him, their chests pressed to each other's, her eyes catching the light that streamed in from the window. "I want to know all of who you are," she finished quietly, bashful.

Castiel ran his fingers against the side of her face, tucking some errant strands of hair behind her ears. "Ask me whatever you wish to know."

She didn't have to think long about what she wanted to ask first. "Why can't I see your wings?" she asked, fascinated. "I saw the shadow of them once but…" one of her hands was on one of his shoulder blades and her brows worked inward slightly, "they're not there."

He thought a moment. "They're not like the rest of the things in this world—they're neither corporeal or incorporeal." He was frustrated slightly, unable to give her a real answer. "It's hard to explain." He thought back to her questions. Do you miss Heaven? Do you like music? Were you ever an angel kid? Questions that surprised him. "Certain elements of Heaven I miss," he answered slowly, thoughtfully. "Knowing my place. The familiarity of it all. But no. I don't think I miss Heaven itself." You weren't there. He looked at her for a long moment. Alex hung onto his every word as he thought through her other questions out loud. "I've... never listened to music intentionally. And no, I was never a child, I was always… just... what I am now." He paused, remembering she'd said she didn't know his favorite color. "I've never given thought to if I had a favorite color or not," he said honestly.

"Blue. It'd have to be blue, right?" Alex said, smiling like she knew, but as Castiel gazed into her eyes he abruptly realized he did have a favorite color.

"No. Not blue," he told her, and her little smile faded under the intensity of his gaze. "I like the color of your eyes best."

She seemed embarrassed or like she felt discomfort, he saw that her cheeks flushed a little bit. "Cas…" she said, and it sounded like she was protesting.

"I made you uncomfortable," Cas said, unsure how he'd done so. Feeling embarrassed, he looked down. "I apologize."

She touched the side of his face, made him look back at her. She held his gaze. "Don't." She looked at him a minute, trying to figure out how to word herself. "You just say things sometimes that… really surprise me. Really make me feel..." she trailed off, her eyes dropping away from his shyly, her hand slipping away from his face and back down to his middle. "I dunno."

"Badly?" Castiel asked, trying to understand.

"No," she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "No. Not badly." She curled her head into his shoulder again, and the room was quiet for a long moment.

"What's… your favorite color?" he asked her, because he realized he didn't know.

He felt her lips smile against his shoulder. "Blue."

Something swelled in his chest. He was full of a feeling that he only felt for her, and he bowed his head down closer to hers, his nose pressed into the hair at the side of her head. Her arms tightened around him a little in response and his chest swelled even further. Her hand rested on the side of his waist, her thumb slowly moved back and forth over his skin. He felt her draw back a little and he pulled his head back too, looking down at her.

"I wish I could see you," she said earnestly, searching his gaze openly. "The real you."

Cas was caught off guard. "My true form isn't… anything like this," he said, glancing down at himself—the body of the man made of muscle, tissue, flesh. "I don't think you'd like it," he told her, feeling a twinge of sadness. His true form, which he felt so detached from now… was fearsome and alien in comparison to this.

She didn't seem deterred, looking at him with soft eyes. "If it's you… then I think I would."

Cas looked at her deeply, his eyes flicking between hers. He felt the familiar swell between his ribs. "I think this is me, now," he told her. "I don't think I'll be returning to Heaven anytime soon."

She studied him with an empathetic sadness. "Because you can't or because you don't want to?"

"Both," he answered sincerely, not understanding his reasoning completely, just knowing his answer was truthful. He tried to tell her what he felt, everything he was thinking. "Here… on earth… with you… I..." he trailed off, didn't know what he was trying to say. Frustrated, he went silent. She didn't push him. She was staring into his shoulder, thinking hard.

"Cas?" She looked as though she were gathering the courage to ask him about something. "You said that… that you saw us in twenty-fourteen, right?"

Castiel felt a twinge of dread and general bad feelings. "Yes."

Her gaze was curious and a bit shrewd. "What were we like?"

He frowned a little, trying to decipher her meaning. "Do you mean… in our interactions as a… a couple?" She nodded hesitatingly, and he thought hard about what words to use to describe what he'd seen. "We seemed… close." He paused in deep thought. "We... lived together and were always with each other, from what I gathered." His mind's eye wandered over the memories, and he remembered seeing himself smiling widely more than once, her too. "We appeared to be happy," he said quietly. "But then you died." His jaw tightened. "And I don't like who I became."

She was silent for a long moment. "Was it my fault you got that way?" She seemed surprisingly emotional, deep in thought, saddened. "I... don't want that to be you. Ever." She blinked a couple times, rapidly, her eyes shining as they looked into his. "It's like you were... broken."

He brought a hand to the side of her face, disliking the sorrow in her eyes. "I know," Cas said, and he thought of the things he had seen that she hadn't. He'd seen glimpses and flashes of the future, she'd visited it, met the man he supposedly would become. He was silent for a long moment. In the very back of his mind, he realized he had to tell her what he had avoided all this time. "It wasn't just your death that made me that way."

She frowned, growing worried at his tone. "What do you mean?"

He wasn't sure how to tell her, and his hand fell away from her face.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously, and she was propped up now on her arm now.

Cas met her waiting gaze slowly, hesitatingly. "I've always felt that I should tell you this but… I never have," he admitted, and looked down, afraid to tell her this for reasons he could not name. His eyes flicked back up to hers. "There was a… child. Our child." Her face had gone blank. "You... were pregnant, Alex. When I… he… killed you."

"What?" she sounded stunned, then quickly puzzled and almost accusing. "All this time you've known that and never told me?"

Cas couldn't hold her gaze. "It seemed too awful."

"You should have told me," she insisted gently, but she seemed confused.

"Why?" Cas asked her, genuinely wanting to know her reasoning.

She looked at him directly, her face full of a certain kind of mournfulness. "Because it is too awful to know that. To know that you… shot me… while I was…" she trailed off. "You shouldn't have to carry that all by yourself." She let out a heavy breath, looking at him tensely, seemed to be thinking hard about what she was about to say. "For what it's worth Cas… you—I mean he—did the right thing." Cas felt his stomach clench oddly when she said that. "I mean, Croatoans aren't a joke. And for some reason if I were to get turned tomorrow… I'd want you to do the same."

"Alex, no—"

She cut him off. "I'm just saying. I know it's horrible. And I know you hate it, or the thought of it. But it was… and it is… the right thing to do. It's a mercy kill." Cas felt himself becoming deeply upset, and Alex seemed to regret what she'd said, if only because of how he reacted. "Hey," she said, cupping the side of his face again. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Castiel protested, thinking of everything he'd seen, of how meaningless and preventable her death had been, how horrible it was knowing that in any version of their future he was the one who put a gun to her stomach and pulled the trigger, ending her life as well as the spark of their offspring. He couldn't even get his mind to fully comprehend that thought—that they had created a child together, that they were a mother and father together. He barely knew how to have a conversation, how could he ever fill a role as pivotal as a father?

Alex's thoughts seemed to be following a similar path and she looked very uncertain. "I don't know how I feel about that… being pregnant."

Cas remembered. "You didn't know how you felt about it in the future, either."

Her eyes came from someplace far away back to him. "How did you—uh, future you—feel about it?"

Cas thought back. "He—I—seemed to welcome the idea."

Alex's eyebrows were high up. She cleared her throat. "I, uh, I don't understand how I could have gotten pregnant, anyway." She frowned a little, looked sort of chagrined. "This may be TMI but… I haven't had my period in years, Cas. That's what I get for skipping meals and never sleeping and always being stressed out, I guess."

Castiel was silent for a minute—he knew that already and it worried him. He knew all about her body, and all the other bodies he encountered. He knew that Alex wasn't the most physically healthy, that she neglected herself much of the time, barely making time to keep herself alive. Similar to Dean, only while Dean stuffed himself to the brim with foods that would bring on a heart attack, Alex barely remembered to eat food at all. "You should eat and rest more," he told her sadly, to which she gave him a look, like he were asking the impossible. Cas looked down, wishing she could have a different, safer, better life. "You were physically more substantial in the future visions I saw of you. Perhaps that's how you could conceive."

She tilted her head to the side. "...Are you saying I was fat?" she asked, looking at him oddly, like she was about to either laugh or be angry with him, he wasn't sure which.

All humans were made up of a certain ratio of fat, muscle, tissue—all humans were fat. And bone. And tissue. And muscle. But from the way she asked the question, he understood that she thought he was implying something negative about her body. "Uh… no?" he answered, and gauged her reaction. He'd said the correct thing, she looked appeased. "You weighed approximately twenty pounds more than you do now," he told her factually, and she looked impressed.

"Huh," she said, then almost smiled, the corner of her mouth flicking upwards briefly as she looked down. "Yeah. We really must've been happy." Her smile faded and she looked at him with growing anxiety. "Are we really… doing this?" Her gaze faltered for a moment. "Knowing how it might turn out?"

Without hesitation, Castiel tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer. Their legs touched, their stomachs touched. "I won't let it end that way," he told her intensely, reminding her of what he'd promised.

"But what if you can't change it?" she asked him softly, a whisper.

He held her gaze unflinchingly. "I will. I have to." Their eyes remained locked for several seconds longer and then she closed her eyes, curled into him, and buried her face in the space between their bodies. He could feel her eyelashes fluttering against his neck when she opened her eyes and blinked.

"I need to tell you something," she said quietly.

Her tone caused him a mild flush of anxiety. "What?"

"I uh... I kissed you... future you... in twenty-fourteen."

Oh. He already knew that. But she didn't know that he knew, and was looking at him apprehensively, worried. "I know," he told her, warmth swelling in the vicinity of his chest because it seemed to worry her, what his reaction would be.

Surprise darted across her eyes. "You know?"

"Yes," he answered. "I saw that, too."

Her surprise remained and grew. "You're not angry?"

"Angry?" Cas repeated, thinking about it. Well. He had felt angry when he'd first seen it. He now understood that he had been jealous. Jealous of himself, which was strange. But the anger was faded, and a question was all that remained. "I'd just like to know why you did that," he ventured, because he truly wasn't sure why.

"I... was confused," she said, visibly uncomfortable. "And he was you, sorta." Her eyes faltered from his. "I didn't think you-you would ever kiss me." He caught her meaning—she'd wanted to kiss him before and thought he never would. Strangely, that warmed him. The faintest blush of rose tinged Alex's cheeks as she looked down at how they were naked and twined together, having done so much more than kissing. An almost coy smile played secretively on her lips as she looked at him more boldly. "Guess I was wrong about that."

Cas felt his lips turning upward in response to her smile, in response to what she implied. This private and intimate thing they shared was special, thrilling, wonderful. Despite his misgivings, here was the only place he truly wanted to be. Despite his doubts about whether this were wrong or right, several things distracted him from dwelling on it further: Her warm body next to his, her eyes so open and unguarded, her smile so soft and beautiful... he touched the side of her head, letting his fingers trace across her tousled hair. He contemplated every aspect of her, finding every single thing about her pleasing.

She contemplated him the same way and he watched her eyes traverse his face, felt her fingers brush gently against the skin of his arm and chest. Seeming to be overwhelmed after a moment, she ducked her head underneath his chin where she maintained silence. "I've been thinking." She said after a moment. "You did the right thing today. Dean needed a kick in the pants."

Castiel frowned, wondering if she were remembering wrong. "I... put him through a wall, I didn't kick his pants."

She pulled away from him, grinning again, and he loved it when she did that. "You don't know how cute you are, do you?"

Castiel faltered, and in all seriousness, swallowed nervously. "Uh, no." Was he supposed to know? When she only looked at him with a growing little smile, he hesitantly asked. "How cute am I?"

She pressed her lips together, her eyes went to his mouth, then back to his eyes. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, then she grinned huge and hooked her arm around his neck, kissing him hard with a laugh. His confusion faded away and he felt the ghost of a smile turning his lips upward. He responded appropriately, kissing her back as they lay tangled together beneath the trench coat.

---

"So all that horror movie crap is real," Adam surmised dubiously, sitting back and trying to process everything Sam had just explained to him. "Dad hunted monsters and ghosts and demons—and you do too." He looked at Bobby, and then Sam. He rolled his eyes and made a disgusted little sound. "Well that's easy to believe."

A touch of sudden amusement played on Sam's features. "You were dead in the ground a few hours ago," he pointed out. "You should probably broaden your horizons."

Adam briefly realized there was something to the observation—then rolled his eyes again and looked away while falling silent. He rubbed his hands together anxiously, glancing around the room again. He thought about it again: demons, ghosts, monsters, angels… it was all real and Dad hunted that shit...? It just seemed a little nutso if you asked Adam, but maybe there was more to life and reality than he'd noticed his first time around. Adam glanced up at the hole he'd noticed in the wall—it looked like something big had smashed into it, the plaster was bent inwards.

"I'm doin' a little remodeling," Bobby said sarcastically, and Adam saw that the old man was watching him closely. He looked down and away again, very aware that these people were watching his every damn move—how long had he been here, anyway? Several hours at least, all of which had been spent being looked at weirdly and told about crazy stuff he could barely bring himself to believe. He had to get out of here. The angels would be waiting. He wasn't sure why they weren't here already to get him, unless maybe they couldn't find him. All he knew was that he had to get back to Mom and see her again. He let out a heavy breath, trying not to look as stressed as he felt. This was some fucked up shit.

There was the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, and Alex came into the study. Adam glanced at her sidelong, trying not to be obvious. She was in a different outfit and had damp hair. She'd been missing in action for awhile now, what, a few hours at least. Her and that trench coat dude both, the supposed angel. He studied her with thinly veiled skepticism. Maybe Sam and Dean as these badass hunter characters he could buy, but her? She looked like she weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, like it'd be easy to snap her in half like a twig.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Where've you been?" Sam asked absently, glancing up from his book.

"Uh just, trying to get my thoughts straight." Adam was distinctly aware that she sounded like she was lying. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear self-consciously. Sam, however, was distracted. "And then I fell asleep," she continued. "But I can help now."

"Take your pick," Bobby said, gesturing at the books on his desk. She grabbed one, sat in a chair, and threw her feet up onto the end of the desk.

"Hey, what've I told you about that?" Bobby griped at her, but there was a hint of a smile hiding behind his beard. Alex looked at him from under her lashes for a moment, he gave her a friendly but warning look, and she took her feet off the desk, shifting in the chair.

"You seen Cas?" Sam asked, glancing up at her again distractedly.

At the mention of the angel, Adam saw how the corner of her mouth twitched. "Yeah. He, uh, went to check on Dean I think," she replied nonchalantly.

"Ah. Well, Dean's been quiet all day, didn't even seem surprised that I locked him in there," Sam said heavily, scrubbed a hand over his mouth several times. "I'm gonna give him a little longer then try and talk to him."

"Hmm," was Alex's unenthusiastic reply—she looked at her twin for a couple seconds, glanced at Adam mistrustfully, then returned to looking at the book she'd selected. Adam looked at her closely, trying to figure her out. She struck him as odd, and he couldn't figure out what group she would have been in during high school. Grunge, maybe. Outcast most likely. She'd changed since he saw her last—she was wearing an oversized black Led Zeppelin shirt with a green flannel shirt thrown over it, jeans that were too long for her legs and bunched up at her ankles around her faded boots. Her hair had been pulled into a damp pony tail that clearly she hadn't even bothered to smooth out. She didn't have pierced ears or painted nails and she wore no makeup. You could definitely tell she was John's daughter with her dark features and strong jaw. In fact, Adam realized that for twins, she and Sam didn't really look that much alike to him. It's funny… when Dad had mentioned his other kids, he'd always assumed Sam was the girl—Samantha, right? It made sense at the time.

Adam watched the three of them for about thirty minutes and they pored over a book about end time Mayan prophecies. They argued in good nature and swapped mostly inane sounding theories in between long patches of studious silence. Even though he could tell they were all under huge amounts of stress and pressure, they seemed to be dealing. From time to time one of the three would glance Adam's way apprehensively. He'd had about his fill of this, and was going stir-crazy. He was counting down the hours until night time when he thought his best chance at ditching out would be.

"Yeah, okay," Sam finally said in a tired tone, sitting back in his chair and rolling his neck to ease some kinks. "I need a break. Bobby, think I'm gonna grab a shower."

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," Bobby muttered, engrossed in the book he was reading over. Sam chuckled at the comment and lumbered out, going upstairs.

Adam looked at his half-sister curiously, watching her a couple minutes longer. She was tapping a pen now against a blank notepad she'd made zero notes on, and was leaned over the corner of the desk opposite of him, brow scrunched up. Maybe it was sheer boredom, but he struck up a conversation. "So you're a hunter too, huh?" Adam asked her. She looked up at him dubiously.

Her eyes narrowed just a little. "Yeah, I am," she said neutrally and left it at that, didn't say anything else, just looked at him. He made a doubtful face to goad her and it worked. She sat back from the book she was studying, a confrontational look on her face. "What?"

"Doesn't that rough lifestyle mean you might break a nail?" he taunted, looking to pick a fight.

"Do I look like the kind of girl who gives two shits about that kind of crap?"

He smirked a little. "Hmm," he took in her tomboy appearance again and made sure she knew he was insulting her when he said, "No."

She just rolled her eyes and returned to her book. Her pen didn't tap anymore, she just held it still. Adam was quiet a minute. "So, all that stuff Sam said about Dad living life on the road and dragging you guys along with him was true?"

Exasperated, Alex slammed the pen down onto the table, turning her full attention to him, even though she had a bad attitude. "No, he made it all up," she said smartly. The Bobby guy gave her a look and Alex's jaw worked weirdly, she looked at Adam again. "Yes it's true. We grew up on the road, doing shit that people like you can't even comprehend." She almost looked bitter. "Be glad you had a normal life."

"Normal?" he repeated, insulted.

She wasn't paying him attention anymore, back to her book again.

Adam forced himself not to lash out, and instead took a moment. He wasn't going to get intel from taking troll bait from this bitch. As Alex flipped a page of the book unseeingly, Adam noticed a dark scar across the palm of one of her hands, he indicated it with a nod. "How'd you get that?"

She paused her work to give him a dark little smile. "Someone kept asking me too many questions," she said evasively.

Adam couldn't help it, he grinned in a taken aback way at the audacity and sass.

"Kids, kids... can we settle down here?" Bobby complained, his cantankerous face half hidden behind a volume. "Sheesh," he muttered. "Family reunion of the decade."

Alex complied sullenly, and after a moment, Adam tried again. "So if angels are such bad news, why do you keep that one in the trench coat around?" Just like he thought, she reacted immediately, glancing up at him sharply.

After a second, she answered diplomatically. "He's... not like the others."

Adam smirked again. "Yeah. I bet," he said, his voice dripping with suggestion. Her expression immediately clouded over even though she tried to hide it. Enjoying himself and how easy it was to get a rise out of her, Adam raised his eyebrows up slightly. "You uh, got a thing for him or what? You like older guys?"

Bobby was peering up from underneath the brim of his ball cap, seeming interested now. Alex's eyes were practically fiery. "You wanna keep running your mouth or do I need to shut it for you?" she threatened impatiently.

That was hilarious, and he had no issue letting her know he thought so. "I'd like to see you try," he said, grinning crookedly at her, a real smile at the thought of this girl trying to pull one over on him. Her eyes flashed at him and Adam just grinned bigger. She was a lot easier to piss off than Sam was. At this point, Alex gave up glaring and returned to ignoring. "I'm uh, kinda famished," he said after a couple beats, and leaned over his knees, looking at her pointedly. "You wanna fix me a sandwich?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "Kitchen's right there."

"You heard the lady," Bobby told him, his tone more measured and calm than Alex's. Adam pushed himself up and sauntered into the kitchen to make a sandwich. When he had gotten out all the stuff he needed to make something, he turned around and saw that his half-sister had disappeared from the study. He looked at Bobby carefully. The dude was stuck in a wheelchair, but Adam had seen that he had a shotgun laid across his lap. Not really wanting to chance getting shot, Adam decided to bide his time.

He slapped a sandwich together, reflecting on how many times he'd done this—made his own breakfast, lunch, dinner, in his overwhelmingly lonely childhood.

---

Alex went downstairs, into the quiet darkened space of Bobby's basement. Adam was such a little punk. He reminded her of that kid in high school who was always making smartass comments and alienating everyone. He definitely fit into this family, that was for sure, especially right now, what with everyone at odds and under each other's skin and beyond stressed out. What a mess.

Cas was near the bottom of the stairs, standing still as he watched the panic room silently. The sight of him did a thousand things to her—calmed her down, thrilled her, made her feel warmer, made her forget her annoyance with Adam. He turned when he heard her, his eyes softened, his lips turned up just slightly. Alex gave him the smallest of tense smiles as she reached ground level. She hadn't seen him since she'd gone for a shower. "Any change?" she asked, sort of hopeful.

"No, he's quiet," Castiel replied, looking at her and then back to the panic room, frowning slightly now. "Restless though."

Alex nodded slowly, following his gaze, feeling the lightness of hope fading out. She wanted to believe in her big brother that he was stronger than this. For once in his life why couldn't he just stop trying to play savior of the world, stop trying to sacrifice himself and instead try to find another way? Another way. Maybe that was fantasy too. She knew Bobby and Sam were trying to act like there was another way, and she wanted to believe there was one too, but nothing they'd found seemed to offer any hope. And it wasn't like Bobby had just started the research either. They'd been trying to figure out a way to kill the devil for months now. Her heart was sinking. Dean wasn't right, was he? That him saying yes to Michael was their only shot left? She refused to believe that, even though somewhere, in the back of her mind… she was starting to.

Beside her she felt Cas shift and saw that he was looking at her closely. "What is it?" he asked her, seeing her upset expression. She faltered under his gaze and for a moment, she almost told him 'nothing'—but it wasn't nothing.

"I just... don't know what's left to do," she told him quietly, facing the truth herself as she spoke the words aloud. She felt almost guilty for the past few hours in which she'd given next to no thought to the apocalypse or her brothers or the world in general. Instead, she'd lost herself in Castiel's arms and just let go of everything else… and she was now faced with a huge dose of cold reality. The bitter truth. "None of those books have the answers we need," she said, almost to herself more than to him. They all knew it but were desperate and maybe in denial. Alex looked at Cas in silent, tense uncertainty for a minute, then looked away completely, realizing that she was up against a wall. "Maybe that's because there isn't a fucking answer at all. Maybe there isn't a way to kill the devil." She felt sick saying it out loud. She looked at Cas with sudden hopelessness. "You're the one who said no one but God could kill the devil." And an angel would know.

It was Castiel's turn to look grieved and burdened and disappointed. His reply was reluctant and heavy. "Even if he can... he won't."

There was a weighty silence. "What… what options does that leave us, then?" Alex asked, and it was like she was begging Cas for a way out, a miracle, something to give her just a shred of hope. His face was full of sadness and deeply conflicted thought, he took a long time to answer.

"I'm so sorry, Alex," he told her in a strained voice, confusing her—she wasn't sure why he was apologizing, exactly—if it was because he didn't know an answer, or because he couldn't do anything to help her, or if he didn't like seeing her sad... or maybe something else. He drew a deep breath, his forehead rigid, and what he said next made her stomach drop. "I let Sam out of the panic room all those months ago," he told her, holding her gaze even though he was agonized. "I allowed him to go free, which enabled him to kill Lilith, break the final seal, and subsequently bring forth Lucifer from below." Alex was wide-eyed—because she'd always suspected it had been an angel who'd broken Sam out, but she hadn't known it was him. "Everything that happened that night... was my fault," Castiel said, shamefaced. "I never wanted you or your brothers to know what I did… and I tried to make it right by taking you to Sam, giving you and Dean a chance to stop him. I tried to undo the damage that I caused." He let out a breath, looked around unseeingly. "Obviously, I wasn't able to." He couldn't look at her in the eye now. "I just want you to know how much I regret what I did. I always have. But moreso now than ever." His jaw tightened, he shook his head slowly. "If I had listened to my instincts, to you and Dean… Lucifer would still be sealed away. We wouldn't be facing this dilemma at all."

Alex's mouth had dropped open softly, her mind was working fast and furious to piece it together. "You think all this is all your fault?" she asked in soft disbelief.

Obviously he did, from the look on his face. "Well I'm certainly not without a large portion of the blame," he told her, and she realized that she couldn't exactly disagree with him. He did have a part to play in it. But the truth was that they all did.

"Even if that's true," she said, unable to make him feel worse by saying he was right, "...we can't change the past."

"I know that," he told her quietly, and his eyes flickered up to hers somberly. "I know that well."

There was another pause where Alex was both trying to figure out how to feel about this latest development and also wracking her brain for a way to convince Cas that he wasn't completely at fault. "If you didn't let Sam out, some other angel would have," she reasoned. "We both know that." She looked at him sadly, because he didn't appear comforted in the least. Her voice softened. "Not one single person is to blame for this situation we're in," she told him, and searched his gaze. "Least of all you." It was true—Castiel had just been going along with what he thought was right, he'd been naive and shortsighted, afraid to stand on his own two feet after a lifetime of following orders. She knew that. He wasn't the one who had raised Lucifer. There had been so many players involved in the plot—Dean, Sam, Ruby, Lilith, Raphael, Zachariah, maybe more. Maybe even her. Perhaps if she'd gone with Sam after Dean's death, Sam wouldn't have been led astray by Ruby. The what-ifs were endless. All Alex knew was that the angel she loved was blaming himself for it all.

Alex laid a hand on the side of Castiel's neck, stroking her thumb down across his skin softly, and he appeared to be reluctant to accept the affection, his features wracked with guilt. "We're going to get through this Cas, okay?" She was anxious for him to cling to hope with her so it could be more real. "Somehow." She might not have believed it herself, but she wanted one of them to have hope at least. She was so blindsided by the things she'd learned today, the things he'd told her, and now this. He took her hand and gently pulled it off of his neck, turning her hand palm-up to run two fingers from his other hand over the deep scar tissue there in the center. He said nothing, just contemplated the scar, then met her gaze again. His eyes were full of turmoil and uncertainty, doubt, fear. All the things that she was feeling, too.

Alex's jaw clenched with dread as she looked at Cas. She took his hand, stopping him mid-stroke, and he looked up at her questioningly. "I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me," she told him, about to trust him with a question she was afraid to ask anyone but him. She slowly let go of his hand, hugged herself, nervous. "I don't… I don't really want to even think about asking you this," she admitted. He waited, frowning slightly, and she felt her stomach twist with nausea. "But I think at this point… I, I have to." She swallowed. "Was… was Anna right?" she asked, and her voice dropped to a flickering whisper.

"About what?" Castiel's frown then deepened measurably then turned to shock as he understood what she was asking. "About killing Sam?"

She just looked down, unable to believe herself, unable to believe she could actually consider it. "It's just that… if there's not a way for us to kill the devil, do we have to think about… making sure he doesn't get his true vessel?" She looked at him again, at the point of no return, asking a question no one would want to ask. Cas looked entirely stunned at what she was saying and it only increased the guilty sadness she was drowning in—that, and how he wasn't telling her no, which was what she wanted to hear. "I don't want to have to consider it at all," she told him truthfully, hoping he would believe her. She was quickly growing emotional. "God help me I don't." She seemed to realize the irony of what she'd said—God wouldn't help—and she became quiet, her eyes stinging with tears and powerlessness. She bowed her head. She couldn't face this. It was impossible. "That's my big brother," she said hollowly, voice cracking. "I can't lose him." She sat down on the stairs, put her head in her hands, miserable, almost in tears. "I can't lose either of them. I can't."

She felt Castiel sit down beside her closely, a comforting proximity. He was quiet for a moment, and then she felt his hand come to rest on the back of her shoulder gently. She glanced at him, overwhelmed by an impossible weight resting on her shoulders. "I'll help you," he told her quietly. "We'll find another way."

Even though the ever-increasing pit remained in her stomach, his presence and comfort hit home deeply, washing her over with appreciation and hope... just not enough to quiet the whisper-soft voice in the back of her mind kept repeating there is no other way. It's only a matter of time before your brothers are both gone, taken, destroyed. And maybe not just them. Alex suddenly wanting to reach out and hold onto Cas and never let go—just be with him and let the problems of the world fade out.

There was no way to know how this would turn out, she realized with ever-increasing despair. Maybe all she could do was hold on as long as she could to what she had before the inevitable loss. And so she leaned into her angel, circling her arms around him tightly, grieving, afraid, and unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Wondering if, in the crossfire, she would lose Castiel too.

---

Adam picked at the very bland sandwich he'd thrown together, then set it down completely, not really hungry anymore. The sun had just set and the house was dark now. He sat at the kitchen table frustrated as hell. He glanced across the house, into the study, where Bobby turned around his chair, facing the bookshelf. And Adam suddenly perked up as he realized this could be his chance. He might not get another, these people were like hawks. Heart beating fast, thinking of seeing his mom again and being at peace in the afterlife once again, he stood up and stole across the creaky old floor, toward the back door, reached for the doorknob and then—

"Going somewhere?" Sam asked, freezing Adam in his steps. Shit.

Caught and he knew it, Adam turned around, kicking himself mentally but trying to act casual. Sam stood there, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Uh, yeah… out for a… beer," Adam lied lamely, the first thing that popped into his head. Sam had to know that was a lie, but didn't call him on it.

"Great, we got beer. Have a seat," Sam said in somewhat strained pleasantness. Adam looked the guy up and down again—dude had to be at least two-hundred pounds of solid muscle. Running would be a bad idea.

Resigned to his crap luck, Adam gave up and went back to the table sullenly as Sam cracked the refrigerator open. "You know, you pitched this whole dewy-eyed bromance thing, but the truth is I'm on lockdown, aren't I?" Adam muttered, casting cagey glances around, sitting with his shoulders hunched forward.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Sam said, bringing a beer and setting it on the table in front of Adam, who stared at it unmovingly. Sam was clearing his throat and sitting down across from Adam, looking like he was about to attempt another conversation. "Adam, you may not believe it," Sam started, "but Dad was trying to protect you. Keeping you from all of this."

Adam didn't exactly feel in the chatty mood and looked at his half-brother with a rude, disinterested expression. "Yeah well, I guess the monster that ate me didn't get that memo." Sam's face twisted in empathy, and Adam felt his stomach turn.

"You remember that," Sam commented quietly, seeming to be bothered by it and surprised even.

"Kinda hard to forget, Sam," Adam drawled in cool anger, putting on the guilt trip.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Sam told him earnestly—as if he actually cared. What a joke. "Still, trust me," Sam said, and there was a quiet bitterness there. "The one thing worse than seeing Dad once a year—" Sam's face was very serious now "—was seeing him all year."

Adam looked at his half-brother in thinly veiled distaste—how dare this jackass sit there and look at him with that wounded dog expression, acting like he knew Adam's pain, loneliness, the huge hole in his heart? "Do you know how full of shit you are?" Adam asked acidly, and Sam's expression grew confused. Adam wanted to kick him in the face. In frosty contempt, he stared Sam down. "See, it was me and it was my mom," Adam told him. "That's it." He paused for emphasis—he hadn't had siblings to lean on like Sam had, or a dad for the first twelve years of his life. "She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed." Adam was bitter. "So you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything."

Sam looked like he thought Adam must be crazy. "Anything?" He struggled silently for a second, looking a little on the annoyed side now. "You got things we never did, do you understand that?" The nice-guy persona was fading a little into a more assertive, here's-how-it-is kind of attitude. "Dad wasn't who you think he was, Adam. Sounds like he showed up and played father of the year for a couple days with you here and there. But with us? He ignored us on a day-to-day basis, forgot our birthdays, acted like we were his personal little army detail, like he was our drill sergeant, not our dad. I left home when I was eighteen because I hated it so much." Sam paused and let out a heavy breath through his nose, looking disgusted. "He verbally abused all of us, and he pretty much physically abused Dean and Alex."

Adam managed to hide his surprise at everything Sam had just said, even though he felt immediately disillusioned and shocked. And not wanting Sam to know that, Adam fired back the first horrible thing he could think of, trying to keep his half-brother at a safe arm's length, trying not to let himself be open or vulnerable. "Yeah, well, they probably deserved it," he said, and let his mouth twitch into a lifeless little smile. As predicted, Sam looked angry, but visibly reined himself in.

"If you would just knock off the tough guy bullshit for one second, Adam…" Sam said, short on patience but trying, leaning further across the table, trying to get Adam to knock it off, which only made Adam go harder.

"What?" Adam asked flippantly. "You want me to tell you about all my crippling inner sadness? You want me to care about your life? Sorry but I don't even know you."

Increasingly frustrated, Sam wet his lips. "Look, all I'm saying is if we had known we had a brother—"

"Well, you didn't, so—"

"—we would've found you!" Sam interrupted emphatically, angrily. Adam scoffed and shook his head. This was getting ridiculous. Sam talked a big game but it was pointless—it was the past and what was done was done. Adam had died at the hand of some monster ghoul thing, he'd watched his mom beg for help as she'd been eaten alive. And the kicker was that and his supposed family who hunted monsters and creatures—had been nowhere to be found. At this point, Adam just wished Sam would fuck off. "Look, I can't change the past," Sam said trying hard to be calm, and his gentle, appealing tone was like nails on a chalkboard to Adam. "I wish I could. But... from here on out—"

"What?" Adam interrupted challengingly, staring Sam down. "We gonna hop in the family truckster? Pop on down to Wally World?"

Sam reacted just like Adam had intended. He shook his head, disappointed and rejected, discouraged. He sat back, no longer leaning over the table. "Tell you one thing, with an attitude like that... you would have fit right in around here." He looked at Adam sort of sadly, heaved a sigh, then stood up. "Don't go anywhere," he told him, glancing toward the study, where Bobby was once again sitting at his desk.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Adam muttered, looking at Bobby, who watched him closely from across the house.

---

Sam went downstairs and he had to pause to let Alex and Cas get up from where they'd been sitting. It was dark, but he almost thought it looked like she'd had her head on the angel's shoulder, like they'd been sort of arm in arm. And he felt himself soften a little bit. It did his heart good to see someone being so gentle and sweet with his sister—and more than ever he felt like she deserved that kind of stuff after finding out about what Dad did to her and Dean. He felt his insides darken at that thought. Damn. Today had been sort of horrible, for all of them, but especially her, huh? Not only did her oldest brother hurt her like Dad apparently used to, but Adam showed up and had thrown a whole new wrench into the mix. No wonder Alex had gone off for a few hours to be alone. Sam froze mid-step as a thought came to mind. Wait. Cas had been gone the whole time Alex had been, hadn't he? Huh.

Cas and Alex looked at him a little oddly, Alex in particular seemed to be wondering what he was doing stopping in the middle of the stairs and staring like that. Sam forced himself to walk down the rest of the way, trying to hide his surprise at his dawning epiphany. He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized it before just now. It embarrassed him a little, realizing that's why Alex had changed clothes and why Cas's hair looked a little wilder than normal. Sam suddenly remembered how he thought he'd heard something drop onto the floor upstairs at one point when he'd been on the second floor in the bathroom... and he'd written it off as house-settling noises, but now he realized wow, that sound sort of made him think of shoes hitting the floor… had that been… them?

"Uh, hi guys!" Sam said, trying to sound nonchalant and casual. His weird, stilted tone and way his voice sort of squeaked received a funny look from his sister.

"… hi…?" Alex repeated back to him—her eyes were squinted up a little like she was suspicious of his weird behavior.

Sam cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, pushing it out of his mind. He expelled a breath through puffed cheeks, looked in the direction of the panic room. "I'm, uh, gonna try and talk some sense into him," he said gesturing toward where Dean was, already dreading it, but trying to just stay focused. "He's had awhile to think, maybe he'll come around."

"Yeah, okay," Alex said, putting on a shield of an expression. "I'm coming with you."

"...You sure?" Sam asked, forgetting his unease—because after everything that had happened today and how mad Alex had to be at Dean right now, he didn't want her to have to be part of this if she didn't want to. It would be nice to have some backup though, and maybe with both of them in there, Dean might actually listen… still, Sam could do this on his own, if he had to. But it turned out that he wouldn't.

"Yeah," his sister replied without hesitation, then frowned like she was surprised at him. "You're not going in there alone," she told him firmly. "No way."

Sam felt a surge of powerful emotion—because he got what she was saying to him: that he didn't have to shoulder this situation on his own. He was so unexpectedly touched—he wasn't sure when it had become him and her against Dean, but he was glad at least one of his siblings wasn't giving up on him. "Okay," Sam said, clearing his throat again. "Yeah. All right. Let's see what we can do." He drew in another bracing breath and led the way to the panic room, glancing at his twin one more time.

"Should I come in with you?" Castiel asked Alex. His deep, husky voice was overlaid in poorly disguised worry. Sam paused, only a few feet from the door to the panic room. Alex had turned to Cas, the two of them were exchanging a significant look.

"It's... not a good idea for him to see us together right now," his sister told the angel quietly. Cas's expression reflected the pain that her voice held. "It'll just set him off more," she said softly, then followed up with a very earnest, "I wish it weren't like that."

Sam stood there awkwardly, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment as Cas looked at Alex gently. "Perhaps it won't always be," he said, and falteringly touched her arm. Sam was surprised when his sister stepped forward to the angel and kissed him.

He was embarrassed all over again. He'd always thought it was weird to see Dean with girls—but that wasn't anywhere near as strange as this was. Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. He heard the rustle of clothing as they parted, then heard Castiel tell her, almost a whisper, "I'll be right here."

He heard a little smile on her voice when she quietly replied, "I know you will be."

Sam looked up cautiously and saw Alex headed his way. She shrugged a little, hiding a little bashfulness in the motion. "I know you know," was all she said, and brushed past him to stand at the panic room door. True. Sam wasn't sure exactly when this had all started between his sister and the angel, but he did really want to know, if only for curiosity's sake. Now wasn't the time to wonder about it, though.

Sliding the heavy lock away and yanking down on the heavy handle, Sam swung the panic room door open.

In the middle of the room inside, Dean stood with conspiratorial eyes that flickered over his siblings then resting on Cas, who was scowling at him silently from further back outside of the doorway. Alex and Sam stepped over the raised threshold of the door as Dean's eyes narrowed just slightly and he gave Cas a wry, cold look. "Well, Cas, not for nothing… but the last person who looked at me like that…" he shrugged mockingly. "I got laid."

Sam looked at Dean wide-eyed, trying to see if Dean had any clue what he was talking about—Alex looked similarly mortified, but Dean was just smirking at Cas, being an asshole. Oh my god, if only Dean knew how appropriate that comment was... uncomfortable yet again, Sam glanced at Cas. "Uh, why don't you, uh, go keep an eye on Adam?"

Cas hesitated, looked at Alex, who glanced at her twin, then back at Cas, giving him a little nod. "We're fine."

And grudgingly, Cas nodded, closing the door without touching it.

Dean spread his arms, indicating the panic room, and clearly his mood wasn't vastly improved since earlier. "Is this really necessary?"

"You tell us," Alex replied darkly—she stood near the edge of the room, keeping her distance.

Dean seemed to shrink a little underneath the way she regarded him, he looked down. He lost a little of his steam. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered. He sounded ashamed, and Sam knew it was because of what he'd done earlier—but Dean avoided the subject altogether, skipping ahead to the Michael topic. "I was trying to do the right thing," he said softly. "What I'm supposed to do."

Not matching his quiet tone, Alex crossed her arms. "All the sudden you believe in destiny?"

"I got my reasons," he told her defensively, and she threw a hand up, prompting him to please, go ahead and share with the class.

Dean looked at his sister almost pleadingly. "I mean you were there, Al, I shouldn't have to convince you. You saw the future that I saw, remember? You saw me not saying yes and where that got the planet." He threw a hand out, indicating Sam. "We both saw him—" Dean said, and Sam felt his stomach turn, realizing what Dean was talking about. Alex's face fell as Dean continued. "And how it wasn't him—it was Lucifer. Now you tell me how I can just sit back and let that happen."

Alex visibly struggled to find an answer for Dean. Sam looked at his little sister, pained. He knew this had to be beyond hard for her. He'd never spoken with her one-on-one about the whole Lucifer thing but every time it got brought up with the three of them, he could see his twin shutting down. She'd either mentally check out or physically walk away. And he couldn't blame her. He barely knew how to face the idea that Satan wanted him either. "We're working on finding another way," Alex insisted, trying to sound confident but not quite getting there. "One where you live, Sam lives—everyone lives."

Dean shook his head and looked down again with a bitter little expression. "That plan doesn't exist and you know it. We've tried to find another way, you know we did. Gave it our best shot. And now I got less choice than I did yesterday, what with this angelic Plan B upstairs…" he raised his eyebrows for emphasis, looking at Sam now. "And I am not letting him do it, okay?"

"Who, Adam?" Sam asked. "No, I'm... I'm not, either." Did Dean honestly think he would let that happen?

"No, you're not getting me," Dean muttered and turned around, walking away slowly.

"Oh, no, no, I 'get' you perfectly," Sam said, pausing for emphasis. "But I'm not letting you do it, either."

Dean got to the table, turned around, leaned against it, and looked at his siblings dead serious. "Bottom line that kid's not taking a bullet for me."

"Why do either of you have to do it?" Alex asked in exasperation.

Dean's previous gentle, quiet tone evaporated. "Oh good luck talking him out of it, the angels made damn sure he'd do what they wanted, hanging seeing his dead mom over his head," he ranted then leaned forward, looking at each sibling with a defiant glare. "It's me or it's him. And it's gotta be me!" He leaned back and threw his palms up in a gesture that seemed to say he saw no other way. "Look, I'm tired of being the reason so many people have bit the dust, okay?"

"Dean…" Sam started.

"I'm serious," Dean cut in, deadly quiet again. "I mean, think about how many people we've gotten killed, Sam. Mom, Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen." Each name he said was like a sledgehammer to the stomach. "Should I keep going?" Dean asked, and Alex came forward finally to stand beside Sam.

"We didn't kill them," she protested.

Sam quickly added, "It's not like we pulled the trigger."

Dean didn't believe that. "We might as well have. I'm tired, guys." He paused, letting it sink in, and he looked years older than he was. "I'm tired of fighting who I'm supposed to be."

"But this isn't who you're supposed to be!" Alex insisted, emotional and emphatic and obviously angry.

Dean was mostly unaffected. And maybe his lack of reaction was what was the most troubling. "You don't have this on you, Al," he said faintly. "You can't possibly understand what I'm going through, and thank God for that too. I just wanna save who I can, all right?" He wet his lips, looked at Sam, seeming to be pained. "How can I make either of you two understand?"

"We do understand," Sam retorted a little too sharply, then took a second to compose himself. "But if you could take half a second and stop trying to sacrifice yourself, maybe this family could actually stick together." He looked at Dean long and hard. "Can we please just give that a shot?"

Dean was shaking his head, looking down to the floor beside his foot. "I don't think so," he said simply, and Sam clenched his jaw, keeping his mouth shut so he didn't say something that would only make things worse. Dean looked up and suddenly shut his eyes for a second as his shoulders fell slightly. He appeared rueful. "Come on Al… please don't cry," he said quietly. Sam quickly looked over at his twin. She had silent tears running down her cheeks and a heartbroken expression on her face. Dean's voice fell to an even softer volume. "Don't do that."

"I believed in you," she told Dean brokenly. A muscle jerked in his cheek, he met her gaze.

Green contemplated hazel—both pairs of eyes agonized. Then Dean looked down and drew his mouth into a hard line, lowering his voice to a barely audible volume. "No you didn't." Her face fell. His eyes came to look at hers again. "And you know what? That's what it boils down to, kiddo. Belief. And I… I just don't believe anymore either."

"...In what?" Sam asked, dreading the answer.

Dean was reluctant to answer. "In either of you," he finally said, a whispered low blow. But what he said next was worse. "But especially in you, Sam." It felt like the floor had disappeared beneath Sam's feet and he was falling—his chest seized up in pain when Dean said that. "I mean, I don't," Dean said, and it was with brutal, heartbreaking honestly. Not anger, not a general dick attitude. He was being totally real, and that's what hurt the most. "I don't know whether it's gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick, or using me or Alex against you or what, but… I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you."

It was a knife twisting in his chest deeply. "So you're saying I'm not strong enough," Sam said, blinking away the sting of tears.

"You're angry, you're self-righteous," Dean told him in that same quiet, matter-of-fact sad way. "You're human. Lucifer's gonna wear you to the prom, man. It's just a matter of time."

Alex looked at her twin in quiet horror and Sam shook his head, unable to hear this, hating how certain Dean was and how Alex was listening to him. "Don't say that to me," he begged his brother, voice hovering above a whisper. "Don't put that on me. Not you… of all people."

"I don't want to," Dean answered, full of his own pain. "But it's the truth. And when Satan takes you over, there's gotta be somebody there to fight him, and it ain't gonna be that scrawny little kid upstairs. No way. Lucifer'd eat him for breakfast." He managed a self-deprecating smile. "So, it's gotta be me. At least with me as Michael, we stand a chance killing the devil. I may not be as big as you are, but I'm your big brother. I've always been able to take you down, right?" He attempted a wavering smile, trying to bridge the gap between this horrible place they were in to some fond memories. It didn't work—Sam was struggling to compose himself, and Dean looked like he realized he shouldn't have even tried.

Dean heaved a jaded breath. "Listen... this is my decision, not either of yours. I know you're just trying to… to look out for me." He paused, cold again. "But you don't get to decide this." He looked at Alex. "Didn't you say something like that to me just the other day?" Taken aback, Alex's jaw worked oddly, as if she were wondering how could you? And then wordlessly she turned away and shoved the door open, leaving them alone and slamming the panic room door behind herself.

Dean looked at the closed door, his expression strange. Sam shook his head, a soft, humorless little huff of air meant to be a laugh escaping his lips. "You know, you're getting pretty good at this, Dean," he said softly.

"What?"

"Pushing the people who love you away." Sam looked at his brother accusingly.

Dean just gave him attitude and sauntered over to the desk, pretending to be interested in the book that was there. "Why are you still here then?"

Sam pushed aside his urge to hit his brother and replied steadily, even if he was a little strained. "I'm disappointed in you. But I'm not giving up on you."

Dean's eyebrows shrugged up and down in a display of chagrin as he looked over his shoulder in what appeared to be little interest. "Huh, well. You're the last one left who's in that club." He looked at Sam sullenly and he crossed his arms. "Sorry to tell you but I'm just gonna let you down. It's what I do best."

"Enough with the pity party," Sam told him intensely, giving his brother a pointed stare. "So you think I'm gonna give up and say yes… what happens to Alex, huh, when we're both dead or gone?"

"Psh." Dean went to the little cot and sat down with his feet far apart, elbows resting on his knees. "She's a big girl. She can take care of herself," he said, but it sounded like he were reciting lines off a script—his heart wasn't in it.

Sam called him on it. "Do you actually believe that?" he questioned incredulously, then went a little closer to his seemingly unreachable brother. "Dean just a couple years ago she was a totally different person, or have you forgotten? Don't let her fool you—she depends on us—and you—a lot more than you think."

"Nah," Dean said bitterly, still not looking at Sam. "She's got Trenchcoat." He looked up at Sam at that point closely. "By the way… did you know about that?" Sam's expression gave him away and Dean's mouth turned downwards in distaste and anger. "Yeah, thanks for the heads up."

Sam was lost. "I don't get why you're being like this about them."

Dean's eyebrows shot up like he couldn't believe what Sam had just said. He sat up straight as his expression quickly turned from surprise to a deep glare. "Because it's wrong, as wrong as you and Ruby was."

It was Sam's turn to be surprised. He looked at his brother like he was insane. "Cas isn't a demon who is using Alex to start the apocalypse."

"No, he's just using her," Dean fired back adamantly.

Sam grabbed the chair from the desk, sat down in it, then looked at Dean thoroughly. "Dean. Cas took a frigging bullet for her. He gave her the ability to speak, he's healed her and saved her life—our lives—a bunch of times. He went against Heaven for us and ever since then has been trying to help us find a way to stop the apocalypse… if anything, we're using him."

Dean looked distinctly ruffled by that thought but then quickly covered that up by acting like it sounded stupid. "Please," he muttered, and switched topics, trying to hide what clearly looked like the beginnings of a guilty conscience. "Forget about Cas," he said gruffly. "Just think about this: If you and I both say yes, those jackass angels don't get a chance to mess with our sister. I mean they got Adam, they turned him against us. It's only a matter of time before they get their claws in her and use her to make us do what they want, or worse, kill her."

Sam couldn't argue with that, but still, Dean seemed to be forgetting something. "So… save our sister… but let half the planet burn?" he asked doubtfully, wondering if Dean really meant that.

His brother looked at him, pained, surprisingly vulnerable. Soft again, sad. "She's our blood, Sam. I spent my whole life trying to protect you both and if I can't save both of you, at least I can save one. Maybe I can even make a deal, make sure she gets a Heaven or, I dunno I—I just..." he seemed to be out of steam and rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand before continuing. "I'm just saying… if only one Winchester can survive this mess… it's gotta be her, man." He looked at Sam despairingly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think the same thing."

Sam couldn't answer for a second, because he knew what Dean meant but… "It's the lives of half the people on the planet for hers," he protested.

"I know it is," Dean said, looked down. "She deserves to live. I don't." He looked up at Sam sadly. "And I'm not sure if you do either."

"How can you say that?" Sam asked, cut to his heart by Dean's words.

"Because it's the truth. And you know it is." Dean looked at him without a trace of anger. Just sadness. And Sam thought about the demon blood and Ruby and the things he'd done as a kid and how he'd let Jess die and how he'd failed to bring Dean back from Hell on his own and how he'd abandoned his sister when she'd needed him the most. And Sam said nothing for a long moment, just looking down and resting an elbow on his knee as he moved his hand across his mouth in distressed thoughtfulness.

Dean leaned forward over his knees. "We can't say no forever, Sam, do you get that? They'll keep upping the ante, they'll start killing everyone and everything we know and love to get us to do this. They are gonna make us do this. No ifs, ands, or buts." Dean's eyebrows were raised up high. "Now we can decide to do this together, on our terms, save a lot of people in the process..." he searched Sam's eyes intensely, "Or we can stand by and let someone bully us into doing it." Sam looked at his brother grimly, trying not to be swayed. "I'm gonna do it," Dean told him decidedly. "I am. So what do you say, huh Sammy?" Dean almost seemed pleading, and for a second, Sam was considering. "You said you wanted us to stick together, so... here's your chance." Dean looked at Sam, waiting for his response.

And Sam was suddenly reeling, unable to believe he could even consider becoming Satan's vessel, unable to believe his brother would try and talk him into it. Sam stood up from the chair, almost knocking it over, and he walked a couple paces off, quickly becoming enraged at himself. "No, Dean." Sam was adamant and angry, but most of all, betrayed. "That's not an option for me, okay? Not now, not ever."

Still sitting, hands on his knees now, Dean had clearly expected as much and gave an offhand shrug. "If you get our sister hurt or killed in this process… so help me Sam, I'll never forgive you."

Sam raised his chin. "I'm not the one who's hurting her, though, am I, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam sharply but said nothing. His glare wavered and he looked away, shoulders heavy and slumped forward as if in defeat. And Sam was suddenly hurtling to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum to heartbreak and grief again. "What happened to you?" he begged softly. Dean said nothing, just shook his head and kept it bowed. How was it, even when his brother was being the world's biggest dick, Sam could feel so bad for him? He paused for a long moment, growing introspective as he watched his brother closely. "Why didn't you ever tell me about Dad?" he asked softly, hesitatingly. "What he did to you?"

Dean immediately became visibly guarded. "Ah come on," he said, feigning disinterest, batting away an invisible something with his hand. "You didn't need to know."

Sam disagreed, studying his brother earnestly. "If I had known, I would have found a way to get us away from Dad," he said, then paused, realizing. "Maybe that's why you never told me." Dean made no reply and Sam thought back to nineteen ninety-nine again. He closed his eyes briefly, opened them back up, fighting a painful feeling in his throat. "She… she told me she fell down some stairs. That time you went away on that road trip and met Lisa, remember?" He had Dean's attention. "That was Dad, huh?" Sam shook his head in disbelief, disgust, sadness.

And even though it was clear that Dean had mixed feelings, he looked at Sam like he was appalled at the question. "Dad was a hero," he replied defensively. "He was a good man."

Indignant anger boiled in Sam's veins. "Then why did you have to protect her from him?" he asked very loudly.

"Listen... Dad had his faults, I know that," Dean snapped. "He was pretty screwed in the head from the job, from what happened to Mom, to us. It's a wonder he wasn't worse."

Sam exhaled sadly, letting a long, gentle pause hang. "All I'm hearing are excuses." His heart ached viscerally. "He never should have laid a finger on her. Or you. I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean glanced up in Sam's direction, avoiding a direct look in the eye. "Yeah. Well. I'm sorry too."

"It never should've happened," Sam insisted, disliking how Dean just seemed to be okay with the fact that that things had been that way.

Dean almost smirked. "Yeah, and you know what else shouldn't have happened? You and me, both knocking her down. Even once, man." And the realization that yes, both of them had purposefully hit or shoved their sister… was enough to break Sam's heart. Dean obviously had taken it to heart a lot more than he had shown. He had his head in his hand again, and Sam remembered painfully when he'd backhanded his twin across the face when he'd been high on demon blood. He'd never forgiven himself for that and never would.

Dean let out a gruff sounding breath, composing himself and clasping his hands between his knees, refocusing. "You know, speaking of Dad, Alex saw him in Heaven a couple days ago. Cas told me all about it."

Sam was thrown. "...Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "The old man got a message through somehow. Don't ask me how cuz I haven't even had a chance to ask her about it but… Dad said something about Azazel's plans and how it's still dangerous..." he looked at Sam tiredly. "You know anything about that?"

Sam was staring at Dean in complete disbelief. "N-no," he answered, and it must have been the way he said it or the look on his face.

Dean was suddenly interested, intent, and looking at him almost suspiciously. "You sure about that?"

In total fear and panic—Sam covered his true feelings with anger. "Yes Dean, I'm sure. Look, I'm not saying yes to Lucifer, Azazel is dead and gone and I want you to stop acting like you know everything. I'm stronger than you think!" He left the panic room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

"Drama queen," Dean muttered, then raised his voice a few notches as he stood up. "You can't keep me in here forever!"

In response to his shout, Dean heard the door lock and he clenched his fists in frustration. He could hear Sam and Alex talking indistinctly outside of the room and he growled in exasperation.

So much for talking it out. So much for them understanding or listening to him. He was gonna have to do this the hard way. He remembered again what Cas had said to him all those months ago about the apocalypse. Dean had been a mess from Alastair's handiwork—hooked up to a million IVs and feeling like death warmed over. Cas had shown up in his hospital room.

Dean remembered asking him "Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?"

Cas had looked at him point-blank. "Yes. The righteous man who begins it is the one who must finish it."

And at that time… similar to now… Dean had felt unable.

"Well then, you guys are screwed," he had replied. "I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me."

Did he feel strong enough now? No. Did he feel capable of this? No. He felt like he was taking the coward's way out even though he logically knew that this would save a lot of lives.

The righteous man. Well, he might have believed it was a load of bullshit, at least in the beginning, but apparently Heaven didn't. He was the righteous man. Somewhere along the line fate had picked him as the one who would start the apocalypse and end it, too. That was the single shred of hope that he held onto now, that he could, in fact, end this, defeat Satan, and allow planet earth limp along a little longer. Problem was, he was locked in Bobby's basement where he couldn't get to the angels. It was looking like he had to take matters into his own hands. He had enough motivation to last a lifetime and was ready.

He remembered coming face to face with Lucifer in Sam's body when Zachariah had sent him to the future. Satan's words had always haunted Dean, but today, he almost wanted to laugh in the devil's face. "You won't say yes to Michael," Lucifer had taunted. "You won't kill Sam, you won't be able to save Alex from her own foolish choices… whatever you do, you will always end up here. Sam will die, Alex will die. Nothing you can do will change that. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win."

Not today, motherfucker. You don't win today. Not anymore.

He wasn't altering details, he was changing the entire damn storyline.

Dean listened closely—he didn't hear his siblings talking anymore—good, they'd gone. With any luck, Cas would come stand around uselessly outside again and Dean would be able to lure him in and escape.

Dean took out the switchblade he kept at his ankle, snapping the blade up. It glinted in the incandescent light. "Here goes everything," he muttered, and drew the sharp metal across his skin, hissing against the pain then watching bright red blood come forth.

He was very aware that he'd seen his brother and sister for what was probably the last time.

---

Upstairs, Castiel watched Adam quietly in the darkened study. The lights were off, the kid was sleeping. Bobby, in turn, was watching Cas and realizing while Sam and Alex were downstairs, he had a chance to feel the angel out a little bit. He wheeled over, cleared his throat, not sure how exactly to broach the subject. "Listen kid, uh… I gotta talk to you about somethin', man to man." He paused, realized his mistake. "Uh… man to angel."

Castiel turned to him, his eyes narrowing into a sternly curious squint. "Of course."

Bobby looked at the guy carefully, trying to be firm and clear, but also polite. "Now you may think it ain't none of my business, but I've known Alex since she was knee high to a grasshopper and—I love the kid. Like she was my own." As such, he put it in short, clear terms: "Don't let me catch you treating her wrong, hear me?" Cas's head canted just slightly to the side as his frown softened into understanding. "She deserves a guy who's gonna be around for the long haul," Bobby told him, fixing him with a meaningful look. "Is that you, son?"

"The... long haul?" Cas repeated uncertainly, apparently not understanding.

"The rest of her life," Bobby replied. Comprehension washed over the angel's features. "Someone who ain't gonna run off and abandon her like every other damn man in her life ever has. That girl deserves the best and then some."

Cas opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the downstairs door opening interrupted the conversation. Sam came out and around the corner, looking haggard.

Distracted from Cas, Bobby looked at Sam hopefully. "How's he doin'?"

Sam said nothing, just shook his head 'no' with defeat. Bobby nodded, knowing he shouldn't have hoped for Dean to get his head of his ass. "How you doing?" he asked Sam, who gave a weary shrug.

Cas was frowning again, looking at Sam with a hard, worried expression. "Where's Alex?"

"Downstairs, said she was gonna try and talk to Dean one more time."

"By herself?" Cas asked, straightening in alarm.

Sam put a hand out, trying to ease Cas's worry. "Cas, it's fine, you have nothing to worry abou—" Castiel brushed past him roughly and went downstairs.

Sam groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

---

Castiel could have transported himself angelically down to the basement, but he didn't even think about it until he was halfway down the stairs. The second his feet hit the ground floor, he forgot about that realization completely. He heard a crash, and he was suddenly afraid that he was too late. He restrained himself purposefully, realizing it might not be what he thought, that in the past, his overreactions had frightened Alex and been, in slang terms, over the line. Still, he rushed across the space between himself and the panic room door, he slammed the viewport latch back to see into the room. "Alex! Dean?" his eyes swept over the room, he saw no one—and then he stood taller, looking down—he saw a smashed lamp and Alex laying in the middle of the room, she wasn't moving, and there was a streak of blood running down her cheek. His entire system seemed to go into horrified, panicked overdrive. Without hesitation, without even thinking, Castiel ripped the panic room door off of its hinges and he surged into the room, rushing over to her and dropping to his knees beside her, trying to see if—

"Cas."

He whirled. It was Dean, who looked sick and resolved, he had a hand held high—and in the space of a millisecond Cas saw the angel sigil drawn in blood—he shot to his feet, trying to stop Dean—but it was too late. The other man slammed his hand down over the symbol and a feeling like searing hot acid enveloped Castiel who screamed as he was painfully blasted far, far away.

Dean squinted against the bright light, a hand over his eyes. Cas was gone, and he was out of breath. He stared down at the crumpled form that was Alex in the middle of the panic room. Beside her, the broken lamp he'd hit her with. This wasn't how this was supposed to have happened.

He almost felt as if he could be physically sick as he stared down at her in a panic, realizing the irony of what he'd done—hurt her again right after giving Sam a grand speech about saving her. But in the end, this was about saving her, wasn't it? He cursed her fighting spirit and the fact that she'd made him do that—if she hadn't walked in and seen the angel sigil, if she hadn't been about to run and give him away—Dean backed up a couple steps, his chest was consumed in pain and he had to leave, get away, now. He was in too deep now. There was no going back from this.

---

Sam came into the study carrying his groaning sister, who looked like she'd been hit in the head—"put me down," she was mumbling. Sam obliged even as a shocked Bobby was wheeling over.

"What happened?" he demanded, then realized someone was missing. "Where's Cas?"

"Blown to Oz," Sam hissed, helping his sister stand.

"Dean did this to you?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Alex muttered angrily, holding a hand to the side of her head. She had a bleeding cut beside her ear at the top of her cheekbone. "I went in, saw him drawing that freaking angel sigil, he knew I was gonna yell—he put his hand over my mouth, we fought, he smashed a lamp over my head… good times."

Sam's anger was almost palatable at this point. "I am gonna kill…" he stopped himself mid sentence, refocused on Alex. "You okay though?" he asked her intensely, and again, she made a face like she was annoyed.

"I'm fine, stop asking," she said, avoiding her brother's concerned, riled up gaze. Bobby realized she was embarrassed.

Sam was floundering, obviously pulled in a hundred directions, upset and overwhelmed. "Look, I'll go find Dean," he said. "He couldn't have gone too far. Just watch Adam."

Bobby looked at the kid like he must be crazy. "How? You may have noticed, he's got a slight height advantage."

"Then cuff him to your chair," Sam said with exasperation.

"Just go Sam, we've got it," Alex said tersely, then prompted him with a loud "hurry!"

Wordlessly Sam left, and Alex touched a hand to her bloody cheek, hardly able to believe what had happened. Some metal part of the lamp had cut her and it stung like a bitch. She couldn't tell how messy or how bad the cut was, either. "I'm gonna go clean up real quick," she muttered, and made for the bathroom, angry as hell. She knew her brother was a desperate man—he'd proven it when she'd walked into the panic room and seen the sigil he was drawing in blood on the metal locker. She'd taken one look at it and turned to escape, to shout for someone, warn Cas—but Dean had grabbed her, clapped his hand over her mouth he'd begged her not to make a sound, to please understand, he had to do this. She wasn't even sure how she'd broken his grip but she had and slugged him in the face and when she'd made a run for the door, he'd grabbed a lamp and blindly swung at her. It had worked. It had silenced her. She looked at the cut on her cheek. It wasn't that bad, just bloody. She wiped it off a little bit, rolled her eyes at her reflection, then stalked out of the bathroom.

She was shaking from anger at Dean and what he'd done. Blasting Cas to kingdom come... how dare he?

Alex got to the bottom of the stairs, walked around the corner and saw Adam coming out of the study, looking distinctly shady and sneaky. Oh, you do not wanna piss me off any more than I am already, kid. "Where you going?" Alex asked, startling him. He stopped, a couple feet out of the study and into the kitchen. She approached him boldly, staring at him hard.

"What happened to your face?" he asked, seeing her cut.

Alex was in no mood. "I asked you a question," she snapped. "Where are you going?"

He set his jaw. "I'm leaving," he said and stepped to the side, trying to get past her, but she mirrored his movement, stepping with him and blocking his way. His eyes stayed on hers and he clenched his jaw in impatience. "Get outta my way."

"No," Alex said in a low threatening single word, and he paused, then tried stepping the other way. She went with him again and put both hands to his chest and shoved him. "Get back in there."

He was immediatly startled at her audacity. He tried to act tough. "Listen, I don't usually hit girls, and I don't wanna have to move you out of my way, but I will if I have to."

"Oh, yes, please. Go ahead and try, cupcake," she told him, short on patience and almost itching for a fight at this point. She looked him up and down, not impressed or scared by him in the least.

Anger flickered across Adam's features and he stepped closer to her, probably trying to test her and stare down at her, see if she would really stand up to him. And Alex, who had been fighting for years and years knew enough to take the offensive, to use the element of surprise—cuz he was bigger than her and strong, but it didn't matter how big your opponent was. If you knew how to fight dirty and use surprise to your advantage, keep your feet on the ground… you could take down almost anymore. As Adam stepped forward to stare down at her, she reeled back and socked him squarely across the face. He stumbled back a couple steps, making a surprised noise of pain even as she shoved him with all her strength back into the study—he fell back onto his elbows and stared up at her in shock, blood running out of his nose.

That's when Alex saw Bobby, unconscious and slumped in his wheelchair, shotgun across his lap, a smashed lamp on the ground beside him. Alex's mouth dropped open and her first instinct was to run to her uncle and make sure he was okay—she looked at Adam vengefully, and she didn't just see Adam, she saw Dean in him too. How fucking dare that little twerp?! He was on his feet now, breathing a little heavier than before, wiping blood from below his nose with the back of his hand.

"You got lucky," he told her, drawing himself up to his full height, trying to act like he'd only gone down because he hadn't been expecting her assault.

"Care to test that theory?" she asked dangerously, and she could see from the look on his face that he was pretty much regretting everything about how he'd gotten himself into this moment. She saw him eyeing the shotgun—and they both dove for it at the same second, but Adam got there first, yanking the gun up and pointing it at Alex, who stood and stared then raised her chin slightly, gauging his distance from her, the way he held the gun. This was too easy. "You're not gonna shoot me," she told him calmly, almost bored.

"What makes you so sure about th—" he began to ask, and Alex lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun with one hand and the hilt of the other fast, cracking the wooden butt of the gun across his face with violent force, stunning him so much that he fell backwards.

"Because you're on the ground and don't have a gun, idiot," she told him, standing over him with the weapon she'd procured, one foot on his chest, holding him down on the ground as she trained the gun at his head. She chuckled dryly. "First rule of hunting... don't lose your weapon." He was holding his jaw in offended shock, like he couldn't believe what had happened or that she would do that. He made to move, but she cocked the gun, shook her head, and pushed him down further with her foot. "Wouldn't be wise for you to move right now," she told him, then gave him a humorless little smile. "When Sam gets back with Dean, you two lamp-smashing psychopaths are going into the panic room forever, you hear me?"

And that's the exact moment when the house began to tremble and a brilliant white light screamed in all around them.

---

The celestial whispers were the first thing Castiel heard as he came to himself after being blasted away into the corners of the four winds. For a glancing moment, he couldn't understand the words being said—his thoughts were reassembling themselves, he was quickly remembering how he'd found Alex laying on the floor struck down by Dean's hand—and that mental image made the very blood in the veins of Castiel's body boil in anger. Dean had done those things to escape, to go to the angels, to utterly betray them all. And Castiel tore through space, rocketing back to the panic room, expecting to find her still there, even though some time had passed—but there was nothing but the sickening sight of several small blood droplets on the floor where she'd been.

Cas swept through matter into the upstairs area and found the study was wrecked by signs of a struggle—an unconscious Bobby Singer sat in his wheelchair, head lolling forward—and Cas went to the man, touched his pulse, looking around in growing desperation—he felt his heart hammering painfully, his throat closing up, things he couldn't control or stop. He stood back from Bobby and took two steps backwards. He called out for Alex, turning in a circle, seeing nothing and no one, feeling an absence of human presences nearby. Where was she? Where was she?! And then he stopped moving as the words the angels were whispering suddenly became clear, unmuffled, loud and unavoidable.

We have Alex Winchester and Adam Milligan.

Utter horror overcame Castiel and panic soon followed as his mind tripped over itself, unable to form clear thought. No—why—how? What did the angels want with her? What were they going to do with her? His immediate reaction was that he had to rescue her, and his second thought made him feel physically ill: she could be anywhere or earth, anywhere, and he had no idea where—

And then he heard a man praying in place of Dean Winchester—and Castiel was almost unable to see, such were the levels of his wrath. So, Dean wanted to call down the angels? He would have what he wanted. Castiel drew his hands into fists and disappeared, hurtling through the fabric of space at blistering speeds toward Dean, who was completely unprepared for which angel would come and answer his prayer.