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.

42. Here to Fall

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 42 / Here to Fall

"Rescue me from me, and all that I believe.
Should I fall from grace here with you? Will you leave me, too?"
- Smashing Pumpkins

---

Last Year

Castiel was confused, reeling, and in so much pain laying on the ground unsure of where he was.

The last thing he remembered was being with Alex and her brothers—late at night, out in the woods, and Alex had been very, very drunk. Castiel had taken the flask of absinthe from her on impulse because her behavior had been so strange: she'd rambled angrily and grievously to him about her father, she'd been upset and sarcastic and out of control. He'd only wanted to help her and understand her.

But what had happened after that? Briefly, he couldn't recall—the searing, aching pain crippled him and his ability to think. And then he remembered that several angel brethren had summoned him away from the Winchesters forcefully, demanding he come with them because he was wanted for an audience with the archangels—and that he was to leave his vessel behind. Castiel had known what that meant. He had resisted at first—an instinct he never would have possessed before. Another instance of disobedience he could add to the growing list.

Castiel groaned and raised up slightly, seeing his older brothers Michael and Raphael in front of him—and he knew he was weakened, because he didn't perceive their true forms, instead he saw their vessels. Castiel looked down, realizing that he still saw himself as Jimmy Novak. They were in a heaven that was an ornate, french style palace hall, and Castiel was sprawled onto the shining marble floor.

Raphael bent forward just slightly, looking at Castiel with a stony, unreadable expression. "It hurts, doesn't it. Being ripped out of a vessel without warning."

Yes. It did. Very much. Castiel looked up at his older brother full of agonized pleading. "Why have you done this?"

Michael looked at him cooly. "We've brought you here so that you can explain yourself. Your actions."

Dread pooled inside of Castiel. He felt caught.

Michael made a 'get up' motion with his hand. "Stand, Castiel."

Castiel did as he was told, apprehensive underneath the glowers of the two archangels. They seemed displeased. "Your interference and interactions with the human girl are becoming increasingly extraneous and unnecessary," Raphael said plainly in the slow, insolent tone he so often took. "You've been warned before. You've been disciplined before... or have you forgotten?"

No, he had not, and he never would. Castiel looked down.

"Explain yourself, Castiel," Michael prompted. "Why you continue to foolishly walk this dangerous line. You are a servant of Heaven."

"Yes, I know that I am," Castiel replied. He was thinking deeply, earnestly. "But she's… she's my friend. The Winchester family. They're my friends." The archangels looked at him strangely and then at each other, and he could see that they did not understand him. Castiel attempted to explain himself. "I don't believe my actions have been—"

Michael cut him off harshly. "Your opinion is unimportant, Castiel." He stepped closer. "Your obedience is what we require. You are to accept what we tell you without question and cease acting on your own accord." He looked at Castiel for a long moment, cool and aloof. "You have no need of friendship. Not Alex Winchester's, not Dean Winchester's, not Sam Winchester's."

Castiel had wanted to protest, but Michael continued. "Be grateful we allow you this exception, Castiel. After what you did before…" he trailed off meaningfully and Castiel knew he was expected to express guilt and regret. But he would not, or perhaps he could not. He had given Alex Winchester her voice back and he would not apologize for it—because it was the right thing and he knew it, even though all of Heaven had disagreed. "After what you did before," Michael repeated, dissatisfied with Castiel's silence, "you should not be allowed even a second chance."

Castiel frowned. Puzzled. Suspicious. "Then why am I being given it?"

There was a short silence, and the archangels exchanged a glance. Castiel felt, intuitively, there was something they were not communicating to him. "The Winchesters trust you," Michael told him artlessly. "We can use this to our advantage."

"But make no mistake," Raphael told him. "This will be your last warning. If you fall to disobedience again... I will lay you to waste myself."

Castiel and Raphael locked gazes and there was a long, tense silence.

"The relationship you had with her is over," Michael told him. "You are not her friend. You are her guardian, and that is all. You will not interfere in safeguarding her from anything less than imminent death, as you've been commanded. Do you understand?"

Yes. Castiel understood the command, but he also felt great despair. His loyalties were torn and it was a new, terrifying sensation. He knew who he was: a soldier, a bearer of the Word of the Lord, a member of the Heavenly host. His role was to obey without question, to carry out the will of God and Heaven until the end of time. To remain unquestioningly loyal.

But there were questions. And there were doubts. And there was her.

He thought of the little family he called his friends. He thought of Alex, who he had watched in the quiet, lonely moments, who he had seen cry when she thought no one was there with her. Who he had felt an inexplicable sense of kinship to from first sight. She inspired gentleness and fierceness in him all at once and he wanted to be loyal to her. He wanted to protect her from everything that would cause her any harm at all, not just from imminent death. It didn't seem right that Heaven would forbid him from guarding her as closely as he knew she needed to be.

She never left his mind, not even for a moment.

"Do you understand?" Michael repeated, more intensely now.

Quiet defiance glittered in Castiel's eyes even as he spoke a false truth purposefully. "Yes."

Michael was detached yet malevolent. Clearly, he did not believe Castiel's answer. He reached out a hand and searing, blinding light consumed Castiel—but right before the punishment began, Castiel heard his older brother say to him, "you will."

---

Present Day

How times had changed.

Castiel was in the back of a dark van that sped down the road at breakneck speeds—he was powerless, cut off from Heaven, reduced to human nature. And yet, not unhappy about it. He couldn't be, not entirely.

Across from him sitting on a plastic crate and deftly loading another shotgun with nimble fingers, the reason he had defied Heaven glanced up at him, feeling his gaze. Her dark eyes flickered over his features, she gave him a little smile that was tender, then she returned focus to her task. He felt himself smiling too, just slightly, despite everything.

He'd spent much of the day feeling inadequate and ridden by emotional torment concerning his newfound condition as an all-but-human fallen angel. What Dean had said—that Castiel was not human and never would be—haunted him still. Dean's vehement disapproval of the two of them together in any sort of romantic context weighed heavily. Made him question himself. Dean was wise and insightful, despite his shortcomings of a quick temper and stubbornness… and as such, Castiel wondered if the man had a point.

His emotions were so much rawer and more overpowering now, and he wasn't able to rise above them in the least like he'd been able to in the past. When he'd first acquired his vessel, he'd been compartmentalized: emotion, logic, duty had all been separated. But slowly, as he had fought for the Winchester family and became more involved with them, his thoughts, feelings, and convictions had all become a tangled mess. It was difficult to process, so overwhelming.

Even though Dean spoke with certainty, Castiel clung to the idea that his own feelings were worth something, meant something, and shouldn't be cast aside so readily just because Dean disagreed. With Alex, Cas didn't feel out of place, in fact he felt that he belonged... but he wondered if he should feel this way at all. More than anything, Castiel desired to be worthy of Alex, because his conviction was that she deserved only the best. Herein laid the dilemma: he did not view himself as the best anything. He was a wayward angel, a guardian who had failed her several times over, an angel who had been stripped of everything that made him an angel. So what did that make him now? At best, he was a placeholder. A shadow of a human—clueless and incapable. Just what Dean had said.

He disliked that she had to show him how to do everything—he wished to be able to care for her without assistance. Perhaps that was his sense of pride rearing its head. Pride, or shame. He didn't want to be useless or a bother. He desired to give to her the things he wasn't sure how to provide: stability, support, protection. He wondered if this is what the humans called 'wishful thinking.'

Dean was right. Castiel was not a human. Not really, not completely. But whatever he was, despite his misgivings about what the future held, he reminded himself that he was here. With her. Finally. Not separated by the laws of differing dimensions. Able to speak to her, be seen by her, interact with her. Touch her and be touched. Perhaps, deep down, he had been waiting for this and daring to hope—for the time when the divide between them would crumble down and leave nothing between them but the air that they breathed. Perhaps he had been put here to fall. And perhaps he had been meant for this fate all along.

Nearly three years ago, when he'd first seen her, he'd known she was important. He'd felt it with certainty. And now he realized it was because he'd sensed that she would be important to him. And she was. The most important thing. That's why he supposed he should have foreseen this happening, the long fall to earth. After all… Alex had brought him downfall after downfall from the very beginning. Every time he had sacrificed for her and defied Heaven he'd been stripped of power and position, each time more and more. The first time, when he had restored her voice. The second, when he had rebelled outright and given Dean and Alex a chance to stop Lucifer from rising. The third, when he had gone up into a blaze of light, nearly killing himself to save Alex from Zachariah's clutches.

He didn't regret his decisions or actions, not even for a fraction of a millisecond. He only regretted that he was no longer capable of protecting Alex the way he knew how, with celestial power at his right hand. But he would learn how to safeguard her as he was now, this mortal mass of flesh and blood. And if they somehow survived this apocalypse, if they somehow stopped Lucifer from destroying the world, Castiel would find a way to save her life in the year 2013—he vowed it to himself all over again, looking across from himself at the one he would guard and protect for the rest of his days, to his dying breath. She was stripping a pistol and cleaning the parts with a rag and he thought he had never seen a more beautiful, frightening sight. He knew she was proficient and strong, but just the thought of where they were going right now and what could happen to her in the crossfire was utterly terrifying.

They were heading to the Niveus Pharmaceuticals distribution plant where Croatoan virus was being shipped out disguised as a vaccine. Pestilence was clever to have manipulated the situation like this, and if the four of them were not successful, the virus would sweep the country overnight, exterminating millions and millions of people and plunging the entire world into the apocalypse without hope of escape. That fact was vexing enough, but any mention of the word Croatoan triggered immense, helpless fear in Castiel. He could still remember Alex as she lay dying in his arms. He wished he had never seen those visions that Anna had shown him. Taking Alex anywhere near anything to do with the virus made alarm bells scream in his mind. All he could do was promise himself that he wouldn't let her out of his sight, not even for a moment as they completed this job.

She looked up at him again. There were only about three feet between them or so, but it felt like a far distance. She was so lovely in the dim light from passing street lamps and cars flickering over her features. Again, she gave him a little, soft smile. There was a hesitant, apprehensive quality to the expression—she was worried and anxious like him. Maybe that's why she'd been busying herself for the past few hours, quietly working on things he didn't know how to help with. She returned her focus to the pistol she was reassembling, and there was a loud, metallic click as she pulled the slide back and double-checked her work, then pushed the slide forward, satisfied with her handiwork momentarily.

"All right guys, shotguns all loaded, your rifle too, Bobby… ammo bags packed… charges secure." She pulled her crate forward a little toward the front seat, craning her head around Sam's seat and handing over his gun, handle-first. "Sam, your pistol had so much damn buildup inside I'm surprised it even shot straight anymore," she said teasingly.

Her twin was a little sheepish and he chuckled as he took the pistol. "Thanks, Alex." Sam had been pensive and quiet for the duration of the van ride, and even now he seemed distracted, snapping a trigger guard on then tucking the pistol into his jeans. He scanned through the windshield unseeingly with thoughtful, narrow eyes.

"Are we there yet?" Alex asked Bobby. There was a distinctly joking tone to her question that he responded to with a brief, affectionate side glance.

"Few more hours." He chuckled. "Hope you brought a coloring book."

Castiel didn't understand why that comment entertained the twins, but Alex and Sam were both momentarily lightened, looking at the man who they referred to as their uncle with amused smiles.

Cas imitated Alex's motion and scraped the crate he sat on forward a little to be nearer to her, sensing that a conversation was about to begin. Bobby glanced at him in the rearview. "So I'm guessin' these yahoos told you all about Sam's crazy idea to stop Satan?" Bobby was in better spirits than he'd been in earlier, but there was an underlying quality of apprehensiveness to the question.

And Castiel understood why. He nodded tensely, narrowing his eyes in thought. He'd been mulling this over. Though maybe not as in depth as everything else. "They did," he confirmed and expelled a weighty breath. "'Yes' to Lucifer. Then jump into the cage. It's an interesting plan."

"That's one word for it..." Bobby muttered.

"So when are you gonna tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard, Cas?" Sam asked. "Everyone else has."

"I am happy to tell you that if it's what you want to hear," Castiel replied. "But... it's not what I think."

"What?" Alex asked. She was looking at him in flat-out shock.

He knew she would be unhappy with what he was about to say. "Your family has a habit of exceeding my expectations," he told her, and there was an almost fond note in his voice. "You are all very stubborn and strong willed." He looked at Sam now. "Dean resisted Michael to a point that Michael gave up on him… an impressive feat in itself." He frowned deeply. "Maybe you could resist Lucifer, Sam, but… Adam being chosen as Michael's vessel presents a very dangerous dilemma."

"As if it weren't dangerous already?" Alex reasoned in a mild huff. Cas glanced at her and saw that her nervous fear was doubled.

"Dangerous how?" Sam questioned.

Cas tore his gaze away from Alex, conflicted. He knew none of this would be what she wanted to hear. Because all of it meant losing her brother. But he wanted to be truthful. "If you say yes to Lucifer and then fail… this fight will happen. And the collateral…" he shook his head gravely, looking down. "It'll be immense. Adam isn't Michael's true vessel, therefore, he's weakened already, disadvantaged. And you're Lucifer's chosen vessel—so if you weren't prepared, if you failed to resist Satan, Michael would be defeated. I'm sure of it." There was a heavy silence in the van. "You'd need to be ready. As strong as possible to be able to grapple with Lucifer and cast him back down into his cage."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, intrigued and anxious, paying close attention. "How?"

Castiel met the man's uneasy, questioning gaze. "Demon blood." Sam's expression registered shocked.

"Demon blood?" Alex echoed as if she'd misheard.

"Yes. Demon blood." Castiel looked at her somberly. "To take in Lucifer... it would be more than he's ever drunk."

"But… why?" Sam asked.

"It strengthens the vessel," Cas explained. "Keeps it from exploding."

"...But if the vessel exploded, wouldn't that kill Lucifer?" Alex asked.

Castiel shook his head slowly. "The vessel would die, not Lucifer."

Alex was grim and sat back slightly. "Ah."

Sam seemed to be struggling to understand. "Wait, so, the guy he's in now—is he drinking demon blood?"

Cas's eyes flicked to Sam's. "Gallons."

"And how is any of that not the worst plan you ever heard?" Bobby commented sarcastically.

Castiel turned his head toward Bobby. "The alternative is to continue running."

Bobby pulled a face, reluctant, glancing at Cas sidelong. "Touché."

There was a short, thoughtful silence. "Come on, you guys can't really be thinking about this," Alex protested, sitting forward again and looking at her brother, her uncle, her angel all in turn. "I mean, why not summon Lucifer and then like throw the rings down, shove him in?" She asked, tripping over her words, flustered and desperate. "Or, one of us kills him with an angel blade? There has to be another way, right?"

Cas knew why she was so keen to find another way, and as much as he wanted to be able to tell her there was another way… he couldn't think of one and he couldn't lie to her to give her or any of them false hope. "A human fighting an angel. That would never work. He's too fast. And I can't, I'm…" he gestured at himself briefly. "This." He shook his head, deep in anxious thought. "It might work to open the cage and summon him but… pushing him in, I don't know how we could manage that. And if we couldn't, he might also take the rings and with then, our only chance. I truly don't think there's another way, Alex."

Castiel looked at her sadly. She was silent. Sam's eyebrows shot up, his forehead was wrinkled in apprehensive thought, and he glanced over at his sister. "Like Dad always said... taking the offensive's always better."

"Yeah, and look where that got him," Alex replied peevishly.

She sat back, removing herself from the conversation and subsequently ending it, too. This was crazy. Had she been a moron to keep believing there was a way for Sam to walk away from this? After all, Dean had dodged a bullet when Adam filled the shoes her oldest brother was supposed to fill… and the secret things Crowley had told her about Lucifer and how she was supposed to have been the one who could have killed him bothered her again. Upset and in denial, Alex put an elbow on her knee and her face in a hand. She felt a warm, heavy hand come to rest on her other knee, and she looked up at Castiel, who was looking at her in vast worry and sadness. She couldn't believe he thought Sam's idea was good. She also couldn't believe he wasn't protesting more about her being along for this ride to Niveus. He'd objected yesterday when he first learned of Pestilence's plan to distribute the Croatoan virus disguised as a swine flu vaccine—and the Winchester's subsequent plan to go head off that distribution by blowing up the factory distribution center. But he seemed resigned to it now.

Maybe she should resign herself to certain things, too. That if no other plan or option came to them, she would be saying goodbye to Sam forever. And that if Sam didn't succeed in defeating Lucifer and dragging him into his cage… that the entire world would burn… just like in her dreams. Her throat began to ache in emotional distress. Alex looked at Cas's hand on her knee and covered it with one of her own hands, curling her fingers around the outer edge of his palm. His skin was warm and comforting, but she was afraid.

In the back of her mind, there were whispers, terrified whispers commanding her to do something, to save them all, to stop Sam from making the biggest mistake in history...

---

Springfield, Missouri

Thunder rumbled distantly and the occupants of the van looked up at the sound briefly except for Bobby, who was peering through some binoculars at the Niveus warehouse where workers were busy loading huge boxes of 'vaccine' into huge yellow trucks. It was early morning—an overcast, dreary day that fit the tense mood. They were parked across from the large warehouse complex and putting the final touches on their plan of action. It was important to get this right. Alex was double checking her shotgun again and Sam was looked at a blueprint of the warehouse that Bobby had somehow gotten his hands onto yesterday—probably Crowley, now that Cas thought about it.

"Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks," Bobby confirmed, setting his binoculars down. "Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the C4 every twenty-five feet, then we pull the fire alarm so everyone scrams."

"Uh... that truck is leaving..." Cas pointed out. Everyone looked up in unison at the truck that was pulling out of the loading dock at a crawling pace.

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed. "Okay, new plan," he said, a new note of urgency in his voice. Sam was already getting out of the van and yanking open the side door as Bobby was doling out the new plan and reaching back—Alex shoved his rifle into his waiting hand. "Sam with me, we'll skirt the west side of the building and see if we can get in before they go into lockdown, Alex, you—"

Alex was three steps ahead of him—already slinging one of the ammo bags she'd prepared across her body, grabbing two shotguns and jumping out of the van. She brushed past Sam, who was grabbing at the other bags that were on the van floor. "On it," she said. Cas was right behind her, startled by how quickly they were having to take action. "Heads up," she told him as he jogged slightly to catch up with her, and he barely caught the shotgun she tossed to him. She strode across the parking lot at a brisk pace and Castiel wasn't sure what they were going to do—the warehouse was enclosed by a high chain-link fence but that was exactly where she was heading to. Were they going to climb over it? On the other side, cars and trucks lined the parking lot, partially obscuring Alex and Cas from being seen.

The yellow Niveus truck was slowly chugging toward the closed wrought-iron gate at the end of the parking lot that they were moving toward. Alex held her shotgun tight against herself lengthwise, and her stride turned into an all-out run as she saw how little time they had. Castiel chanced a quick glance behind them, seeing that Bobby and Sam were cutting through the parking lot headed to the far corner of the warehouse.

Alex stopped short at the fence, shocking Cas when she drew her foot back and kicked hard, three times, at the place where the chain link fence seam was secured to a flimsy pole. The metal clasps that held the fence to the pole snapped under the brutal force and she was stooping slightly, squeezing in through the gap she'd forced. "What are we supposed to do?" Cas asked, following her, the metal points of the fence scraping against his shoulder uncomfortably. She was bent over a little, shoulder pressed into a large SUV that was parked there. They were close to the gate that the truck was heading for, and she watched it hawkishly as it approaching them slowly, its engine growling lowly. She gestured briefly at the gate, breathless.

"That gate up there is automatic, you smash the keypad thing when I give you the signal, I'll take care of the driver."

"But—" Castiel made to protest. She suddenly grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him, once—hard and fast—shocking him and catching him off guard. Before he had a chance to react, she was pulling back and grinning at him almost playfully.

"For luck," she explained. The truck rolled to a stop and Alex told Cas, "now."

She was already moving, bent over and almost militaristic in her movements as she ran up between the parked cars and then pressed close to the side of the Niveus truck, skirting alongside it and toward the driver's open window. The driver's arm reached out to swipe a card into the keypad—and Alex leapt up, her feet finding a hold on the little step underneath the driver's door. She walloped the unsuspecting driver on top of the head with her shotgun, stunning him and yanking him by the arm hard, she used all of her weight to pull him out of the truck completely even as he yelped in protest—and the second he crashed on the ground face-first, she jumped down off of the truck and rammed the butt of her shotgun into the back of his head, rendering him unconscious and silent.

Simultaneously, Cas smashed the keypad with the end of his shotgun and the gate shuddered and stopped rolling open. The two of them looked at each other, a little breathless. "You should have let me take care of the driver," Cas said. She gave him a faintly amused challenging look.

"Maybe next time," she said, smiling despite herself at his somewhat grumpy expression.

The sounds of commotion—shouts and some heavy stuff tumbling over caught their attention and Alex hurried down to the end of the truck and peeked around the end—then quickly jerked back. A bunch of guys were looking at the stopped truck and jammed gate and maybe she'd imagined it, but one of them looked black-eyed. She wasn't sure if they'd seen her or not, but she could tell: "They know something's up," she hissed to Cas, who was beside her holding his shotgun awkwardly, looking grim. Why couldn't things just go according to plan? Just once! "Shit," she muttered, glancing to the far side of the warehouse where Sam and Bobby were hugging to the side of the building, their guns raised. "Hurry guys," she muttered under her breath, hoping they could make it in before one of the warehouse guys sounded the alarm.

She crouched down, peering across the parking lot from underneath the truck, and saw a pair of booted feet striding toward them—but instead of rounding the truck around the back, it looked like he was heading up to the front passenger-side of the truck—and Cas was closer. Alex looked up at Cas, pointing urgently, and he seemed to understand, moving back up toward the front of the truck and the unconscious driver.

"Yo Anderson, what's up with the gate!" the newcomer called out as he rounded the front of the truck. He stopped short when he saw Cas, right there in his face, waiting.

"Out of order," Castiel replied gruffly, and smacked his shotgun across the man's face, knocking him out cold. He seemed mildly grudging, contemplating the shotgun briefly. "Perhaps these things aren't so bad."

Alex gave him a look, almost a smirk. "Told you."

They could hear the warehouse doors closing and Alex quickly got confused and craned her neck back around the end of the truck. "Oh no, no!"

"What's happening?" Cas asked, beside her again and turned toward her protectively, standing so close that her arm was pressed into his torso.

"They're going into lockdown, they know we're here," Alex said tersely, and then they heard a gunshot and screams. Without a second thought, Alex took off at a run toward the warehouse, recognizing the sound of Sam's voice commanding people, "go, go, go!"

A huge Suburban SUV came out of nowhere and squealed to a stop in front of Alex, cutting her off unexpectedly, and a male, black-eyed demon bolted out of the driver's seat, snarling, a pistol in his hand, raising up to aim at her—and Alex was raising her shotgun too—but abruptly the demon was stumbling backwards, something silver and bright in the middle of his chest—and he screamed, convulsing, his skeleton flickering wildly. What the—Alex realized that Cas had done that and looked back at him—then almost fell over in terror, because there was another demon behind him, and before she could say anything, Cas was knocked forward flat onto his face with a cry of surprise, and the demon who had tackled him to the ground had a knife raised high, the sharp tip glinting wickedly, right above Castiel's head…

Alex had never experienced so much righteous anger and terror all at once. She dropped her shotgun without a single thought and darted forward, grabbing the demon's wrist tightly with both of her hands to keep him from stabbing it downward… the jagged blade cut through the sleeve of her jacket and into the soft flesh of her forearm, but she didn't care. She yanked the demon up further by the arm and smashed her knee into its face, twisting her opponent's wrist so hard it snapped altogether—the demon's knife clattered to the ground even Alex reached into her jacket for her angel's blade, she whipped it out in a fit of absolute rage and fear, grabbing it with both hands like a baseball bat. In a single panicked swing, she took the demon's head off completely when she slashed the blade blindly through its neck. As the head rolled, she stood there breathless and shocked, heart beating audibly in her ears almost sickeningly. Whoa. Pushing himself up onto his hands, Castiel looked at the decapitated body beside him and then up at Alex with wide eyes.

"A-are you all right?" she asked him, dropping to her knees and grabbing him by the upper arms, her angel blade clattering forgotten to the ground beside her. He could have just died, he was now as mortal as she was, and she'd really realized it to fullness and was terrified.

"Yes, I'm fine, I—"

The sound of another truck engine somewhere nearby rumbling to life caught their attention, then an unfamiliar voice shouting "Go, go, go!"

Another huge yellow truck was pulling out of the loading dock area, heading the opposite direction than the other truck had gone in—and even as Alex and Cas were standing up—it wasn't clear who was helping who to their feet—they saw the truck barreling toward a far gate they hadn't seen, then careening through it without stopping.

"Oh my god, oh shit, shit!" Alex exclaimed, then sprang into action. She grabbed up her angel blade and left her shotgun behind, her mind not fully functioning at this point. "Get in, get in!" She told Cas, even as she was jumping into the still-open door of the running Suburban the demon she decapitated had been driving. Cas stopped to quickly yank his blade out of the other demon and snatch his shotgun back up, and as soon as Cas was in, Alex hit the gas so hard that the tires burned rubber against pavement—and she spun the vehicle around, giving chase.

They shot out of the Niveus parking lot and she floored the gas, right behind the truck that was careening down the side road wildly, then turning so fast it almost capsized onto an unmarked, old road that ran alongside the Niveus complex—Alex glanced at Cas, who still had his shotgun, and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she accelerated further, making the engine roar. "Cas, I need you to get ready and shoot this truck's front tire out, okay?"

"Of course," he replied, and she could have laughed at his grim calmness if she wasn't in such distress. They could not let this truck get away. She heard Cas cock his shotgun and a small twinge of pride did well up in her, because she'd taught him how to do that. She pressed the button to roll down his window and then floored the gas all the way and jerked the car to the left-hand side of the road, bringing the Suburban up next to the delivery truck, giving Cas a good shot at the tire—this road wasn't paved well and it would be hard to get a steady shot. Cas fired once—the truck swerved beside them, and it didn't look like the tire had been hit—Cas cocked the shotgun again, fired again—and the tire blew with a loud pop. Alex hit the brakes as soon as she heard the sound—the Niveus truck fishtailed across the road, losing control and then swerving sharply to crash hard into a tree.

Throwing the Suburban into park, Alex scrambled out of the car immediately as Cas did the same, and he moved faster actually, closer to the truck than she was. The driver of the Niveus truck stumbled out, his black eyes giving him away—and with his blade in hand, Cas bore down without hesitation, ruthlessly backhanding the dazed demon across the face, shoving it into the side of the truck and then stabbing it through the heart, ending that demon's existence right then and there. The demon slid down the side of the truck and crumpled to the ground and Castiel looked down at the dead demon malevolently, his blade glinting in his hand.

God, he's badass. Alex stood there in the middle of the deserted old road, breathing hard and looking at him appreciatively, struck by how attractive she found him in this moment. How much she loved him. And he looked up, meeting her gaze with steadying breaths. "Nice job," she told him, a proud small smile on her face. He smiled back. A wind gusted up over them abruptly, sending Alex's hair wildly blustering around herself, Cas's trench coat fluttering around his calves. Closer now, thunder rumbled. It was going to rain, and soon. Alex looked around—they were in a heavily wooded area and she couldn't see anyone or anything on either end of the road. This was as good a place as any to set a truck on fire. It didn't look like anyone had been down this road in a long time.

"Okay, we need to torch the whole truck," Alex said, refocusing on what needed to be done, and pulled her ammo bag to the front of herself, pawing through the contents, looking for the book of matches she'd stuck in there, even as she walked around to the back of the truck and unlatched the lock that kept the sliding metal door down.

There was a funny clanking sound inside of the truck, like something was rolling around or moving. What was that? Cas got a horrified look on his face and he said "no, don't!" and he was rushing toward her, as if he'd realized what she hadn't yet.

Perplexed, Alex didn't even have a chance to react. The door shot up as if it'd been yanked upwards from inside and Alex stumbled back in surprise as a rabid Croatoan leapt onto her snarling madly, knocking her hard onto her back. Alex was suddenly struggling against brute force strength for her very life, she could see that there were three other Croats that had all rushed Cas. She heard shotgun blasts and heard him practically screaming her name. Fighting with everything she had to hold the Croat above herself back, Alex had both of her hands on his neck as his bloody teeth clacked together way too close in hungry bites—blood dripped down onto her and repulsed beyond compare, Alex turned her head away as far as she could, even as the Croatoan's bloodshot eyes, wide and inhuman, stared at her wildly. Suddenly there was a flash of beige above Alex, and the Croatoan was ripped off of her completely.

Castiel threw the last surviving Croat against the side of the Niveus truck and without hesitation, shot it in the head. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering the sunny yellow of the truck. Cas turned to look in breathless horror at Alex, who was on her back and propped onto an elbow, her expression gaunt and scared as she looked up at him. The shoulder of her jacket had blood all over it and a soft, shocked sound escaped Cas, he dropped the shotgun and staggered over, falling to his knees beside her, staring at her shoulder in utter horror.

"No," he protested softly, his shaking hands coming to hold either of her arms. She looked at him with confusion, following his gaze to her shoulder... then understanding washed over her face and she shook her head rapidly, sitting up, holding onto his arms too.

"No, no, Cas, no, I'm fine," she told him. "Some of the blood from his mouth must have dripped onto me. I'm not bitten. I'm okay."

As if he didn't believe her, he yanked the shoulder of her jacket down, anxiously examining the flannel shirt beneath. It was clean and undamaged. Relieved beyond compare, almost to the point of tears, Castiel pulled her close, cradling her against him tightly as his hand behind her head crushed her into his chest. He was shaking, and his fear frightened her. "Cas," she pleaded, her voice muffled, her face buried in his chest. "It's okay," she repeated. His upset state was getting her upset, too.

Another gust of wind blew over them and with it came the first drops of errant, thin rain. Thunder grumbled ominously. Cas suddenly stood up and walked away a few steps, a hand on his head. Alex had never seen him so visibly shaken up, and the way he distanced himself from her was strange, new, unsettling. Alex stood up, about to follow him, when her phone began to ring loudly. Keeping a worried eye on her angel, Alex dug for her phone in her ammo bag. It was Sam. She shrugged the bag off of her shoulder as she answered, dropping it at her feet. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, a little breathless. "You guys stop that truck?"

"Yeah, we did." She pulled her bloody jacket off one arm at a time, looking into the back of the truck which was empty. It had been a trap. One she was lucky to have survived.

"You guys okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, fine," Alex said, glancing at Cas again. Her adrenaline was racing still.

She balled her jacket up and threw it down at her ammo bag as Sam continued. "Okay, well we just cleared out all the mooks over this way and we're gonna set the charges."

Distracted, watching how Cas leaned against the SUV a few feet off from her, Alex chewed her lip anxiously. "Sounds good. So, uh, you guys good over that way?"

"Yeah, why?" Her twin was picking up on her distress. "You okay?"

"Just, if you don't need us, we'll... catch up," Alex said. She needed to calm Cas down, reassure him.

"Ah…" Sam sounded mildly awkward, clearly assuming she wanted time alone with Cas for another reason. "Gotcha. No, no, we're fine. You guys, uh, go ahead. How long we talking?"

Alex looked at Cas who was leaning against the Suburban heavily, clearly distraught. This was only going to add to the awkwardness and to Sam's assumptions, but she didn't care. "Don't wait for us. Head back when you're done. I'm the owner of a nice, new demonic SUV, so… we'll head back in a bit, okay?"

Sam paused and cleared his throat. "Yeah, okay. Uh, you two be careful out there. Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah, I will." Alex hung up and stuck her phone into her pocket. It was beginning to rain now and she shivered slightly, crossing her arms over herself.

Cas was leaning against the Suburban by pressing a palm to one of the closed windows. He stared down at his feet and his expression was absolutely horrified. He heard her approach but he continued to stare at the ground. "How did they get in there? Why were they in there?"

"I don't know, some kind of diversion, but it's okay, just, just calm down and we'll—" she said gently as she approached him, blinking against the rain drops, but he suddenly snapped his head up and looked at her almost wildly, panicked, grabbing her by either arm abruptly.

"I can't calm down!" he almost shouted, startling her. It was clear to her in that moment how human he'd become. He heaved several rapid breaths. "How am I supposed to calm down?"

They were both getting wet as the rain continued. Alex was shocked at his outburst and frightened because he wasn't supposed to be afraid. "Cas, I'm fine," she told him emphatically. "I'm fine." She felt herself crumbling as she remembered how close he'd come to death just a few minutes ago. "You're the one who almost died." She shuddered helplessly, squeezing her eyes shut for two seconds. "If I lose you again I…" her voice broke. "I don't know what I'll do."

He looked at her but it was pained, it was agonized, and as rain trickled down his face, it looked like tears. He shut his eyes tightly in torment and bowed his head. "Hey, hey," Alex attempted to soothe, and she raised a hand up, brushing her thumb across his jaw. He opened his eyes to look at her, clearly suffering. And not knowing what else to do, Alex leaned in and gave him a soft, simple kiss of reassurance. Trying to reassure herself, too.

When she pulled back to look at him, his strained expression remained—he breathed in and out a few times, each time more rapidly as his gaze flickered back and forth between her eyes—his expression darkened measurably as his eyes burned into hers, his jaw tightening visibly. He'd never looked at her quite like that before, so despairing and wretched and furiously covetous, and even as she realized what that look meant, he was taking hold of her roughly, pulling her against him, crushing his lips to hers, frenzied and afraid, seeking more of her, his mouth demanding, his nose smashed into her cheek, his hands grabbing the back of her head as he made a soft sound that was both relieved and agonized.

Surprised but only briefly, Alex responded to him with all the pent-up fears and longing she'd held inside for the past month, deepening the kiss as much as she could—she had missed him so much she could weep at just the thought of it—and he blindly pushed her against the side of the car, her back hit up against the smooth metal of the SUV—he grabbed her face then her arms, her waist, trying to hold onto every part of her frantically, pushing himself against her and pulling on her madly even as she did the same—the rain streamed over them, soaking everything, running into their mouths as they kissed deeply, whimpering at the other's every touch—and Cas lifted her up abruptly, pinning her there against the car and she hugged her legs around him as his hands threaded through her wet hair. Her arms circled tightly around his neck, her hands dug into him, one at the back of his head, the other into his shoulder—his hips tightened against hers, and he heard her gasp or sob over the sound of the loud rain around them. She rocked her hips into his with a muffled moan as she held him as close to her as she could. Their teeth knocked together but neither one of them cared.

One of Alex's hands felt blindly beside herself for the door handle, he heard it click open and followed her lead—with sliding wet hands they both pulled and pushed the car door open and fumbled into the back seat of the car, refusing to cease kissing each other as they tumbled awkwardly into the tight space there—Cas managed to pull the door shut behind them, just barely missing slamming one of his feet in the door, such was his distraction.

He sat crookedly in the corner made by the door and the car seat and she sat on top of him, knees on either side of his thighs. The two of them were pressed up against one another tightly, wet and dripping, arms enveloping the each other. Out of the rain and in the quieter space of the car, their noisy breaths were loud and the kiss was becoming more frenzied, their movements against each other more and more feverish. Overcome with passion that he could barely contain, Castiel broke the kiss, grasping her head and pulling it to the side, exposing the skin of her neck to his mouth. He began to kiss her there—not close-mouthed and soft, but with deeply possessive sucking kisses, and he didn't even know why he did it, was only was driven to madness at the thought of not doing it—Alex gasped softly, surprised, her eyes fell closed, she was temporarily rendered putty in his hands, and he pulled her down further onto him as he continued to adore her neck with his mouth. He could feel her lower lip dragging against his ear as she panted softly, every little soft cry she made maddening him completely; he had to have her, now. Even as he felt her shakily unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled one arm of her flannel shirt down and off, then grabbed the back of it shirt, yanking it off forcefully, leaving her in the wet, white tank top she was wearing underneath, and their mouths clashed with one another's again. He pulled the strap of her top down, exposing her shoulder. He splayed his hand behind her shoulder blade, pulling her shoulder to him, pressing kisses against the warm skin, nipping and dragging his lips, uncoordinated, not following any logical pattern he could think of, just knowing that he wanted to kiss her everywhere.

Frantically now, her fingers fumbled to loosen his wet tie even as his free hand slid up her shirt, making her top ride up to her ribcage, and he was kissing her collarbone now. He felt his wet tie whip away when she yanked it to the side, her warm hands braced against his bare lower torso, and the skin-to-skin contact made him moan softly, made him need more—his shirt wasn't even off, it was just unbuttoned and open, his coat and jacket were still on, her shirt was twisted and wet on her, but it seemed as if there wasn't time, and Alex seemed to share the sentiment—she moved her knees between his and began to yank on his pants even as he was pulling on hers, and the two of them almost fell sideways from the awkward fiasco of undressing the other from the waist down. Cas's pants only made it to the middle of his thighs, hers only somewhere below her calves, but neither of them could wait and his hands took her by the waist, lifting her up over him. He brought her down to settle over him even as their mouths had found each other's again. Her weight began to press down over him and they both clutched each other tighter, guttural gasps escaping their mouths as they became one.

Dazed, overcome Castiel looked up at her in awe—her entrancing hazel eyes were wide open and looking right back at him. They were both panting softly, relieved but only momentarily—there was a brief, still moment where, in unison, they brought their hands to the other's face. Alex leaned close, her expression twisted in anxiety and earnestness—she pressed a slow, aching kiss to the place where he was cut just over his eyebrow and he could feel how much she had missed him.

Her hand tightened on his face and her other hand braced flat-palmed against his bare chest—and she began to slowly rock her hips over him. They were both gone completely in all mental capacities when she did that—he heard himself moaning in both protest and pleasing frustration at what she did. Her head fell onto the top of his shoulder and she made the softest, most beautiful moan he'd ever heard, her arms now circling around him him as if he were her anchor. His arms enveloped her tightly, refusing to let go. She was so warm, she had wrapped him in staggering pressure of the most beautiful kind, and he belonged here with her, in the place that only existed between them, like this.

His hands were up her shirt on her shoulder blades, her skin was warm and damp and he pulled her down, guiding her movements with increasing frantic quality as he groaned lowly, his face buried in her chest. A moan escaped when she moved up, almost removing herself from him completely but then pressing back down onto him fully but in agonizing slowness, once, twice, three times… making stars explode in his vision.

Alex drew back to press her forehead against his and Castiel watched, entranced and tortured and desperate for more as she continued to make love to him achingly—her eyes were heavy-lidded and her mouth was open softly, she seemed dazed and lost and transfixed and he felt the same—he heard himself making the agonized, frustrated, desperate sounds she always drew out of him and he felt like his mind was drifting away completely—his forehead bowed down and pressed against the front of her shoulder as he pulled her near with strong hands, needing her closer still. She moved herself on him with increasing speed, and something in him snapped.

Feelings of urgency and something almost like alarm flooding him, Cas held her tightly and in a single, swift motion he moved them both, all but slamming her down onto the car seat in his haste, so that he was over her—he held a hand behind her head supporting her, and she cried out, her hands gripping his upper arms tightly as he began to make love to her roughly, passionately, despairingly. His movements were wild and not gentle, high-pitched whispering gasps were escaping his mouth over and over as he held onto the front of one of her shoulders tightly, half out of his mind with primal need. She felt like sunshine and certainty and forever to him, and it overloaded his senses completely. Immense, staggering pleasure was filling every single atom he possessed, building up tensely, tightening around him, and he didn't think he could go much longer, not at this pace, but he didn't stop or slow down, he just gritted his teeth and let loose a sound of beautiful frustration and looked down at her—the flushed pink skin, swollen lips, pleasure-hooded eyes—she was out of breath, in impassioned torment beneath him, restless and anxious. Seeing her like that only urged him to move harder and deeper. But doing so only increased his anguish and his breaths were now coming in short, shallow bursts. He tightened his hand into the front of her shoulder, trying to last, trying not to fall off the end of the earth, hearing himself making loud, guttural sounds he didn't even know he could make.

Her hand came up to lay on top of his, her fingers laced through his tightly, he closed his fingers around hers without hesitation… and her face began to contort, he could feel her entire body tensing up underneath him and around him, she was growing even more breathless and beginning to whimper higher and higher and he was doing the same as everything began to crumble—and her fingers tightened around his, she let out a soft little helpless cry as her eyes locked onto his, she looked close to tears. "Cas, I love you," she whispered urgently, and he saw a tear run out of the corner of her eye down into her hair. Her fingers tightened in his again, she suddenly lurched forward to him and began to gasp uncontrollably and he loved her too—he held her hand tighter as she began to shudder around him, a sensation like being swept up by waves in a stormy ocean. The world fell away... and Cas's eyes closed and mouth fell open as everything he had burst out of him in white-hot heat, over and over again. A solitary, stunned moan of satisfaction escaped his lips against the pattern of her high-pitched sounds of bliss and rapture. Their foreheads pushed in against each others as the waves kept coming and eventually subsided, leaving them to collapse in spent exhaustion. It was over.

Cas's rapid heartbeat was drumming so strong and hard that he could feel it in his throat, in his hands, everywhere, slowing now as they laid there breathlessly. Resting on her shoulder, their hands were still pressed together, fingers interlaced. And on instinct, Cas dropped a single, lingering, whisper-soft kiss to the back of her hand, then bowed his head over her as their hands came apart. She was out of breath underneath him and her eyes shone with tears from the intensity of the what had just happened. He stroked her damp hair back, treasuring her in his arms, marveling at how she fit there with him, how close he felt to her, how beautiful she was. How much she trusted him—how much he trusted her. How her heart beat strongly pressed up against his chest... how alive she was. Her vivid green eyes looked up at him and he couldn't believe that she loved him, that she wanted this from him. And he loved her, too. So much.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her and how far away she'd been from him, how unreachable, and then how she used to look at him with mistrust and how he'd loved her even then, but hadn't understood it, hadn't known the name of what it was that pulsed through his veins for her.

He had walked eternity and had been created to be a soldier of the Lord. But this was the only place he'd known as home—with her. Anywhere with her. He was fallen from grace, an outcast of Heaven—but it didn't matter. For the second time that day, he thought that maybe he was here to fall. If the place he would fall to was her arms… that was what he wanted.

And he couldn't hold it inside any longer. As the rain beat down onto the metal roof above them in a car pulled off to the side of an abandoned old road, Castiel told Alex out loud that he loved her, too.

---

April 29th, 2010. The day Castiel and Alex would always remember as theirs. Where they were aware that the end was near but defied it—finally telling the other what they felt and promising the other the rest of their lives, in so many words. And instead of rushing back to Sioux Falls, the lovers would travel north slowly. Stopping to eat a lunch of gas station sandwiches in a roadside park, watching birds, talking about things of little consequence as well as things of major consequence. Castiel would pick a flower for Alex, a single white daisy that he found that reminded him of her. Just being together was enough for them. Neither of them wanted to think about what lay ahead, not really. And they did return to Sioux Falls that night, but instead of going to Bobby's, they checked into a hotel room and spent the night together where they could be together without questioning, prying brothers around. The two of them shared a queen-sized bed, but it could have been a twin, that's how close and how wrapped up in each other they remained all night long. Each in turn would think about how they never wanted to sleep apart from the other ever again.

Chuck leaned back from what he'd just written and there was a fond smile on his face. This had to be his favorite love story. So unexpected, so strange and striking. Such a long time coming. A sudden, last thought occurred to him and he frowned a little now, adding another sentence into the draft.

The next day would be the beginning of the end… for all of them.

Chuck tapped a thoughtful, troubled finger against his chin. Times like these, he wanted to intervene... but he had his rules and methods, and he resigned himself to sit back and let it all unfold as it all had to.

---

Chicago, Illinois

Dean gripped Death's scythe tightly as he crept into the back of the pizzeria. This is nuts. Of all the places for Death to be, a frigging pizzeria? But Crowley had been sure. And as Dean edged out of the kitchen and into the dining room, he knew he had the right place. The little diner was full of dead people lying on the ground and slumped over on the red-and-white checkered tables. A single person still remained living—a slight, stooped figure with thin dark hair. The man's back was turned to Dean and he sat at a table facing the window. His heartbeat quickening slightly in freaked out adrenaline, Dean stole further into the restaurant and closer to Death, his footsteps silent, every muscle in his body taut with focus… and then, in his hand, the handle of the scythe began to feel warm, hot—burning. Dean fought to hold onto it, but couldn't, the heat became too much—and loudly, the weapon slipped out of his grip and clattered loudly onto the floor.

Shit.

Dean looked at Death's back, knowing he was already a dead man but simultaneously, stupidly hoping maybe the guy hadn't heard it.

Without turning around, Death spoke in a pleasant, mellow voice. "Thanks for returning that." Huh? Dean looked down to see that the scythe had disappeared from the floor next to his feet… and when he looked at Death's back again, he saw that the scythe had reappeared beside Death on the table he sat at. "Join me, Dean," Death suggested amicably, still not turning around. "The pizza's delicious."

Outside, the rain and thunder were growing louder—the wind was picking up—Chicago was as good as gone, three million people were about to die—and Dean thought maybe if he played his cards right he still had a shot at killing Death or maybe he could talk him out of wiping this city off the map. Dean moved forward slowly against his better judgement. Real, genuine fear filled him, as well as the heavy weight of responsibility as he thought of all those millions of sorry sons of bitches who were going to die in a few minutes if he didn't succeed here.

"Sit down," Death said, focused on eating a slice of deep dish pizza with a fork and knife. Slowly Dean complied, even though his true instinct was to run for the hills. Death seemed disinterested in his presence overall. He had a long face, a hook nose, and a prominent, wrinkled forehead. Long, chin-length dark hair was slicked back from his head and behind his ears. He was very plain and unassuming, but sitting across from him was terrifying. "Took you long enough to find me," he commented mildly, cutting his pizza primly. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

Dean swallowed, trying to save face, trying to remain unreadable. Lightning flashed brightly. "I gotta say—I have mixed feelings about that. S-so is this the part where…" he cleared his throat when his voice wavered, "where you kill me?"

Death finally looked at him in the eye, chewing a bite of pizza slowly, and his eyes were unnervingly perceptive. He swallowed the food. "And why would I do that?" He was casual and languid in the way he spoke. "You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well…" he picked up his cup, sipping his soda with a loud slurp sound. "Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky."

Dean stared—snarky? Dean had barely said two words. This guy hadn't even seen snarky. But he remained silent, listening to his gut which urged him to handle this situation very, very delicately.

"This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers," Death lectured indifferently. "I'm old, Dean. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."

The diatribe was lost on Dean, who was confused as to what Death wanted from him. Death took hold on the pizza server, shoveled up a slice, and put it onto a plate that happened to be in front of Dean—as if he'd been waiting for him. "Eat," Death commanded.

Dean looked at the wedge of pizza in distaste, not able to summon an appetite. Death watched him expectantly, almost challengingly—there was a hint of warning to the horsemen's gaze. Aware of how precarious the situation was, Dean obeyed slowly. He sawed off a bite like Death had and put it into his mouth, barely tasting it.

"Good, isn't it?" Death asked.

"Y-yeah," Dean agreed automatically. He glanced at the ring on the horsemen's finger then looked away quickly, trying to gather his courage and formulate a plan. Any plan. "I-I got to ask," he said, chewing the tasteless food in his mouth, trying to strike up a conversation that he could at least get some information out of. "How old are you?"

"As old as God," Death said, focused on his pizza again. "Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless—at the end, I'll reap him, too."

Had he heard right? Dean leaned forward slightly. "God?" He asked incredulously. "You'll reap God?"

"Oh, yes," the horsemen replied softly. "God will die, too, Dean. Everyone, every thing dies. It's only a matter of time. You know this."

Dean was flabbergasted and out of sorts. He had to get out of here somehow. He put on a charming smile, or tried to. "Well, this is way above my pay grade."

Death glanced up at him, chewing methodically. "Just a bit."

"So... then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you?" Dean asked uncertainly. He wasn't sure if he should tempt fate, but Death seemed to want something from him if he were reading the signs right... which was terrifying. Dean wet his lips quickly. "W-what do you want?"

Death contemplated him unreadably. "The leash around my neck—off. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child having a tantrum."

Dean tried to follow. "And you think… I can unbind you?"

"There's your ridiculous bravado again," Death commented disdainfully. "Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this." Death held up his hand and showed his ring to Dean clearly. "I'm inclined to give it to you."

"...To give it to me?" Dean repeated dubiously.

"That's what I said."

Dean looked around as lightning flashed. What kind of trick was this? "But what about…"

"Chicago?" Death sighed. "I suppose it can stay. I do like the pizza." His chin lowered a little and he slid the ring off, holding it between his fingers. "There are conditions."

Of course there were conditions. But at this point, Dean would probably agree to anything. "Okay. Like?"

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell," Death said.

Well, that was a no-brainer. "Of course."

"Whatever it takes," Death reiterated significantly.

"That's the plan."

"No," Death replied immediately. "You have no plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that will stop Lucifer. Well, for now anyway."

Dean was stunned and remembering yesterday when Sam had approached him about saying yes to Lucifer and jumping into the cage. "What, you think—"

"I know," Death interrupted softly. "So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit." Thunder crashed outside loudly, shaking the building. "You won't allow your sister to stop it, and you won't allow yourself to stand in the way, either." Death held out his ring to Dean. "Well, do I have your word?"

Dean didn't like this idea, but staring at the ring, he knew he only had to say a couple simple words to get that ring in his hand. "Okay, yeah," he said. "Yes."

Dean held his hand out. His gaze was quietly foreboding. "That had better be 'yes,' Dean. You know you can't cheat Death." And he dropped the ring into Dean's hand. "And if you try, I'll find you. I'll find your family. I've heard about your sister. The one with no Heaven. What a shame it would be if she died before you had a chance to figure out what was happening to her soul..."

Stomach flipping over in in distress, Dean felt himself go cold. "What do you know about that?" he asked.

Death looked at him cooly. "Do not assume to demand things from me, Dean. I have nothing more to say on the subject." He gestured to his ring. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?"

Outside, the storm had ended abruptly.

---

The Next Day
April 30th, 2010

Dean pulled into the familiar driveway of Bobby's house. It was early morning and he was exhausted after eight hours of driving, five hours of trying to find Death, and the eight hours of driving he'd done before that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. There was a lot on his mind to put it succinctly. He'd asked Crowley, on the road trip from hell, if he knew anything about what Brady was getting at when he'd said Alex was supposed to be special, too, that Azazel still had plans for her. Crowley had given Dean one of those wiseass, smug little smiles and said that no, he hadn't the foggiest. There were too many unknowns for Dean to process right now, and Death's not-so-indirect threat toward his sister weighed heavily on him. Every way he turned, some asshole was threatening his sister or his brother. And damn if it didn't work every time. His family was his weak spot.

Dean pulled back around the house and into the salvage yard, parking the Impala and getting out before sauntering tiredly into the garage. Struck by a sudden thought, Dean took two rings out of his pocket—War and Famine's—then laid them onto the table Bobby kept there. Then he took the other two rings—Pestilence and Death's—and laid them out too, slowly pushing them together. Like magnets, they zipped in together. Wow. Nice. So this was the handy little key that would lock Satan away for good.

Dean looked up, hearing footsteps. It was Bobby—standing tall and proud on two legs. "Hey," Dean greeted. "So how'd the Rockettes audition go?"

Bobby cracked a grin. "High kick's not bad but boobs need work. You get the ring?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. So where is everyone?" he asked.

"Sam's still sleepin'. Kid's plumb wore out."

"And Alex? Cas?"

"Not back yet."

Dean immediately felt his face cloud over. "Not back yet?" He asked slowly, looking at Bobby through narrowed eyes. "When did you get back?"

Bobby looked at Dean almost challengingly. "Yesterday afternoon."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "What the hell, Bobby!" He couldn't believe this. "We're in the middle of the friggin' apocalypse and you just... let her run off with Cas?"

"Watch your tone, kid," Bobby said, not bothered. In fact, he looked at Dean like he were the one in the wrong. "Look, might not be my place but... she's not some teenager anymore, Dean. She's a full grown woman. Maybe you oughta stop tryin' to run her life. You'll chase her off, if you haven't already." Not what Dean had wanted to hear. Bobby looked at him closely. "What's goin' on with you and her, anyway?"

Guilty just like Bobby had intended, Dean looked down, his mouth drawn into a thin line. He took a really long moment to reply, his anger dissolving into disillusion and shame. "I dunno Bobby. She… she used to need me. They both did and now… not so much." It sounded so pathetic when he said it out loud. Dean tried to cover over his deeply wounded feelings with a little smile. "Guess they've grown up, huh." The smile faded and Dean's voice grew soft with pain. "I just look at her sometimes Bobby and she's still that fifteen year old punkass silent kid I was always having to look out for and take care of and keep safe." He shrugged then chuckled airily before his voice fell to a bare and hollow murmur. "You know, not to be creepy but I thought she and I were gonna, I dunno... either get old together or die together. Before she got her voice back, I just… I was ready for that, you know?" Dean hung his head. "I always thought she'd be there." Sam hadn't. Dad hadn't. Alex was the one member of his family who had been ride or die. But now... things were changing. And damn it hurt. "Guess I'm just a selfish bastard, huh?" Dean sat down at the table, uncomfortable and miserable.

Bobby looked at Dean sadly. "Look… the world might be about to end. I'd suggest the two of you set things straight while you still can."

Dean huffed, a sound almost like a dark laugh. "Yeah, I don't know, Bobby." His jaw tightened and he looked off into the salvage yard blankly. "Most of the stuff I've said is stuff you can't just take back." He refocused, trying to pull him together. "Anyway. I got bigger problems now."

"Like what?"

"I told Death I was cool with Sam driving the bus on the whole Lucifer plan. And I'm not sure if I am."

Bobby's eyebrows raised slightly and he sat down across from Dean. "So Death thinks Sam oughta say yes too, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Yeah." He frowned suddenly. "Wait, what do you mean, too? Who else thinks Sam should say yes?"

Bobby shrugged, not quite meeting Bobby's gaze. "Cas. Me. Sam."

"You? Whoa whoa whoa, what happened to you being against this?"

Bobby sighed. "Look, I'm not saying Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects. But…" he trailed off. "Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another. Must've saved ten people. Never stopped. Never slowed down. We're hard on him, Dean. Always have been. But he's been runnin' into burning buildings since he was, what, twelve?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied softly… proud of his brother but also guilty over where that life had landed him.

"Look, Sam's got a… a darkness in him," Bobby conceded softly. "I'm not saying he don't. But he's got a hell of a lot of good in him, too. He's a hero at the end of the day and you can't tell me he ain't got a heart of gold. That everything he's ever done is cuz he wants to do the right thing."

Dean looked down. "I know."

"Then you know Sam will beat the devil… or die trying," Bobby said. "That's the best we could ask for. So I gotta ask, Dean. What exactly are you afraid of? Losing? Or losing your brother?"

Dean was silent a minute. "Both, I guess," he said heavily, then sniffed, sat back, and sighed. "Death made some pretty big threats if I didn't let Sam say yes. So looks like my hand is forced, huh?" He smiled facetiously to cover over the mounting despair.

---

Later

Dean wandered through the salvage yard and found Sam reclined on the hood of the Impala. He put his phone back in his pocket, agitated. Three hours since he'd gotten back and nothing. It was getting close to noon.

"Hey," Sam greeted mildly.

Broodingly, Dean took a beer out of the cooler that was beside the Impala and cracked it open then leaned his back against the car, turning the beer bottle cap over in his fingers in annoyance. The overcast gray sky overhead and chilly air was making Dean unhappy. Scratch that… everything was making him unhappy.

Sam craned his head around to try and see his brother's face. "You get a hold of Alex?"

Dean raised the beer to his lips apathetically. "Nope. Phone's off or dead." He took a sip of the pale brew, stewing.

"She'll be back Dean, don't worry."

"Yeah." Dean threw down the cap of his beer bottle. "Okay, so... I'm in," he suddenly announced.

Sam looked at his brother oddly. "In with…?"

"The whole 'up with Satan' thing," Dean reiterated gruffly. "I'm on board."

Sam sat up slowly, his eyes widening. "You're... gonna let me say yes?"

"No," Dean said, forcing himself to go through with this, even though it went against every instinct he had. "That's the thing. It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown—well, overgrown—man. If this is what you want... I'll back your play."

Sam was obviously not expecting that. "...That's the last thing I thought you'd ever say."

"Might be," Dean retorted cynically. "I'm not gonna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I got." He swallowed painful emotions. "I mean, truth is... you know, watching out for you... it's, it's kinda been my job, you know?" Dean finally looked over at Sam directly. "But more than that, it's... it's kinda who I am. You're not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can't keep treating you like one." He looked down. "Either of you. Maybe I gotta grow up a little, too." He was silent for a minute. "I don't know if we got a snowball's chance. But... but I do know that if anybody can do it... it's you."

Sam was touched and astonished. "T-thank you."

"If this is what you want…" Dean started, then looked at Sam intensely, almost wishing his brother would change his mind. "Is this really what you want?"

Sam took a minute to reply. He was grim and resolute when he replied. "I let him out. I gotta put him back in." Not exactly Sam saying this was what he wanted outright, but Dean heard that Sam was saying, basically, yes.

His heart sank but he kept his face from showing that. "Okay. That's it, then." Dean took a drink of his beer.

Sam nervously cleared his throat. "I'll uh, I'll need some demon blood," he said. "Well, lots of it, actually. The more I can drink, the stronger it'll make me."

Dean didn't even care to know how Sam knew that. He was so hollow inside that he didn't know what to do with himself. "Bobby'll know where we can find some black-eyed mooks," he muttered. "If we can just get that damn twin of yours to—" he paused, hearing the crunch of gravel nearby. Tires on the driveway.

The brothers both turned. A large black Suburban SUV was pulling in and they could see Alex behind the wheel. Cas was beside her in the passenger seat. Relieved and mildly incensed all at once, Dean's grip tightened on his beer bottle. "Well if it isn't the dynamic duo," he commented sarcastically.

Sam gave his brother a look. "Dean, don't."

"I'm not, I'm not," Dean said, giving Sam a look that said get off my case.

Dean got an irritated look in return. "I mean, you see how happy she is with him, right?" Sam asked in that overly sensitive, caring tone that Dean was immediately annoyed by.

"Yeah, I do, and you know how 'happy' usually goes for this family, right?" Dean fired back darkly, looking at his brother almost angrily. "It never lasts."

Sam looked at the approaching vehicle, his expression concerned and hopeful. "Maybe this time it will."

The car rolled to a stop near them and Alex got out of the driver's side, glancing at her brothers briefly. It was so gross... Dean could see how happy the two of them were and it was the worst—making him feel guilty and stupid and unsure of himself. Cas looked at Alex like she was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen—you could literally see him watching every little movement she made and see how enamored he was. The guy had been in love with her for a long time, hadn't he? The two of them approached and Dean looked at his sister cooly. "Where you two been?"

"Disneyland," she wisecracked. So she wasn't going to tell him. She looked worn out, like she hadn't slept much. Dean's stomach turned again and he shot a sharp look at Cas. In the past he would have demanded to know what the hell they were doing and where the hell they had been, but today… he didn't. He deflated slowly. What Bobby said was true. She wasn't a teenager. And he wasn't her dad. Dean felt a deep sense of loss. His brother, his sister… they were everything to him and he had a really great way of showing it, huh?

Dean glanced at Cas, who stood at Alex's side—too closely—and looked back at Dean almost balefully. "Sounds like fun," Dean commented snidely and stood up all the way, setting his beer down onto the hood of the Impala. He crossed his arms. "Well—Sam's gonna do it."

Alex frowned slightly. "Do... what?"

"Say yes," Dean replied bluntly, and her expression fell, her mouth dropped open, she looked at Sam in total shock.

"Wait—wait," she said, holding a hand up for effect, rapidly growing indignant and flustered. "Sam. You promised we would make this decision the three of us...!"

He was apologetic and slightly guilty. "I know, but—"

"But what?!" she demanded.

"I have to do this," Sam said firmly. "I let him out. I need to put him back."

"You were tricked into letting him out," Alex insisted forcefully. "What if this is another trick, huh? Either of you friggin' jackasses think of that?" She was panicked and angry. Afraid.

"Look—we have the rings, he doesn't know about that—" Sam tried, but his twin cut him off.

She began to ramble almost crazily. "You know what, I should have told you this before but, but the whole past month, I've seen all these crazy dreams, visions where you're Lucifer and the world is burning and all I know is that you can't do this Sam, you can't."

The brothers exchanged a dubious, caught off guard look. "You what?" Sam asked. "You've never mentioned this before."

"Hey, you weren't exactly doing so good this past month," Dean said pointedly, getting a sharp glare from his sister.

"I know what I dreamed."

"Yeah, dreams," Dean said, discrediting her without a second thought. She'd always had bad dreams her whole life. He glanced at her folded arms, noticed something was missing from her hand. He balked. "Hey, where's Dad's ring?"

She looked at him sullenly and glanced to her left. "Lost it."

"Oh well good job," Dean said, feeling a rush of anger—how the hell could she have misplaced that! It meant a lot to him, which is why he'd given it to her in the first place. Getting three bitchy expressions from Sam, Alex, and Cas, Dean let it go. "Okay, look, we're gonna do this, like it or not, Al. I got all four horsemen rings and Death was pretty clear about what to do with it. So… we gotta go get some demon blood and hit the road." He looked at his sister rudely. "Stay here if you want, I don't care." It wasn't true of course, but he lashed out when he was hurt by default.

He turned without giving her a chance to respond and headed toward the house but glanced back just in time to see how visibly distressed his sister was. Cas touched her arm gently, knowingly. And Dean felt replaced, as fucked up as that might have sounded. He turned his back completely and stalked into Bobby's house.

---

That Night

The devil's in Detroit. That sounded kind of like a bad country music song, didn't it? The Impala streaked down a dark highway with Bobby's van close behind. Dean glanced into the rear view mirror where he could see his anxious, silent sister sitting beside Cas, who was asleep and snoring softly. "Aw. Ain't he a little angel?" Dean commented in faint sarcasm. Alex's eyes flickered up to his for a minute then darted away. She'd been like this all day. Either giving him death glares or inexplicable sad, soulful looks.

"Angels don't sleep," Sam replied softly, deep in thought.

Dean set his jaw, gripped the steering wheel tighter. Since that afternoon, they'd tracked down a couple pissant demons and killed them, drained their blood and bottled it for Sam to drink when they got to Detroit—which is where all signs pointed to Lucifer being. There was a block of old abandoned apartments where apparently there had been an unexplainable temperature drop. And just like the Dean in 2014 had told them… the devil took Sam in Detroit. It was getting kind of hard not to stop the car and turn it around. Dean was very surprised that his sister was actually going along with this at all, actually. She had refused to be part of the demon blood thing. She'd waited outside while they killed and drained the demons, and when they had come out, she'd had her hands over her ears like her head hurt or she was trying to keep out a loud noise. She'd said it was nothing. A headache. She'd been withdrawn all day. But he couldn't really blame her. Sam was about to kill himself, essentially. And what if Dean couldn't find a way to bring him back after the deed was done?

Dean glanced at his brother sidelong. He couldn't keep his worries to himself any more. "Sam... I got a bad feeling about this."

"Well, you'd be nuts to have a good feeling about it," Sam replied almost jokingly. Dean shot him a sharp look.

"You know what I mean," Dean said. "Detroit. He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. And… here we are."

"Here we are," Sam echoed, a little quieter than before.

"Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know?" Dean asked. "Maybe he knows something that we don't."

Sam gave Dean a flippant look. "Dean, I'm sure he knows a buttload we don't. We just gotta hope he doesn't know about the rings."

Dean made a face like he was thinking no shit, Sherlock. Sam huffed and glanced back at his sister then almost did a double-take when he saw her. She had her hands on either side of her head again, she was wincing harshly, like she was trying to keep out a loud sound or was in a deep amount of pain. "Whoa, hey, Al, what's wrong?" Sam asked, twisting around in his seat to face her better, his voice a little higher in concern.

She came out of a trance, staring at him, for a moment seeming dazed. "Just… just my head again," Alex replied weakly. She looked paler than normal, too. "Headache."

Sam stared at her dubiously, and Dean frowned, glancing at her in the rearview. "You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure." She winced, looking physically ill. Her arms were hugged around herself. She looked small and hopeless, reluctant to speak up. "And I mean the subject matter doesn't exactly help."

Sensing his sister's deep upset, Sam gave her a small, sympathetic smile, trying to encourage her a little. But she just looked at him with an agonized expression. And Sam heaved a reluctant breath.

"I know this is gonna be hard for you both, and I know the timing's not the best, but…" Sam drew his shoulders up slightly and looked at Dean, bracing himself for something, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. "There's... there's something I gotta talk to you two about."

Dean frowned mildly. "What?"

Sam glanced back at Alex, then looked at Dean. "This thing goes our way and I… Triple Lindy into that box…" he wet his lips, looking at Alex now. "Y-you guys know I'm not coming back."

"Yeah, we're aware," Dean replied for them both.

Sam looked back at his brother intensely. "Good. So you gotta promise me something, Dean."

"Okay," Dean replied evenly. "Yeah. Anything."

"You gotta promise not to try to bring me back."

Alex looked at Sam with a strained expression while Dean reacted immediately. "What?" he gave Sam a look like he was nuts. "No, I didn't sign up for that."

"Dean—" Sam started, getting flustered at his brother's raising voice.

"Your Hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland," Dean snapped. "You want us just to sit by and do nothing?"

"Once the cage is shut, you can't go poking at it, Dean," Sam insisted, trying to keep his tone reasonable and calm. "It's too risky."

"No, no, no, no, no," Dean replied angrily. "As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there."

"Yeah, you are," Sam insisted, "you don't have a choice."

"What, you think Alex and I are just gonna let you waste away in there for all eternity?" Dean asked gruffly. "What, kick your ass down into hell and then go back to hunting bright and early Monday morning?"

"No," Sam said decisively, firmly. "No more hunting." He stared at his brother meaningfully, commandingly. "You go find Lisa. You pray to god she's dumb enough to take you in, and you… you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean, you quit giving Cas and Alex crap and let them be together. Promise me, both of you, that you'll go live your lives, put all the dark shit from our past behind you and just… just live." Sam looked at Dean pleadingly.

His brother shook his head. "You can't ask me to leave you there," Dean said softly.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said. "You have to."

Dean went silent, his hand tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched mightily. But he said nothing. Sam glanced back at his twin. She was staring unseeingly into the back of the front seat. "Awful quiet back there," Sam said, unsure if she were even listening. She looked like she were a million miles away, torn up and thinking hard about something else entirely. "Penny for your thoughts?" he tried.

She looked up slowly, first at Sam, then the back of Dean's head. "I'm… I'm gonna miss this," she said faintly, and she sounded close to tears. She looked at Cas then, and Sam could see how much she loved him as her eyes flickered over his sleeping, peaceful face. "But I guess what has to be done… has to be done, huh?" She sounded hollow. Fearful. But resigned. It was a one-eighty from earlier which Sam thought was odd briefly but he didn't dwell.

He felt somehow worse knowing she was accepting it like that. "Yeah."

"You're really gonna do this, Sam?" She asked, staring at the extra two gallons of demon blood near her feet. They wouldn't fit in the trunk. Sam followed her gaze.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "I am."

She looked down at her feet and held a hand to her forehead, grimacing in pain. Her cheeks had tears on them. "M-my head hurts," she said softly, and Sam's features twisted in concern. She usually got annoyed by physical pain, but today she was off—seeming to be agonized by everything.

"Hold on," Dean said, similarly concerned seeing his sister so upset and pained. He was regretting how he'd been acting to her more than ever. He pulled off the road into a gas station. "I'm gonna fuel up. Sammy, you wanna grab aspirin from the convenience store?" The Impala pulled up to a gas pump.

"Will do." Sam looked back at his sister and gave her his best attempt at an encouraging smile and with the familiar creak of the door, he got up and out of the car.

On impulse, Alex sprang from stillness into movement and rushed out of the car, not even shutting her door behind her, she looked almost panicked and rushed to Sam as he rounded the car, smashing into him in an unexpected hard hug. She sobbed loudly, her face buried in his chest—and Sam was caught off guard and even a bit alarmed. "Hey, hey," he soothed automatically, bringing his arms around her even as he and Dean exchanged a worried look. Dean looked upset, frozen right outside of the door to the driver's seat, and Sam knew it was because he hated to see their sister upset, and she was upset because Sam was essentially saying goodbye forever. Sam rested his chin on his twin's head, feeling her shaking with tears, and he didn't want to leave. He was suddenly emotional and cleared his throat, surprised.

"I—I'm gonna miss you, you know that?" He asked her faintly. He pulled back, his hand on the side of her head, and he held her gaze steadily. "Promise me you'll remember the good times, okay?" He tried to smile at her but he could barely manage it. His eyes stung. "Go and… and marry Cas and have kids and be safe and do the stuff I always wanted to do." His voice almost broke. "And tell your kids about their uncle Sammy who really didn't wanna go as soon as he did, but had to."

Her expression broke, she squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head, shaking it 'no' as she sniffed loudly. He stroked his thumb down against her hair and she opened her eyes back up, grabbing his arms. "I love you, okay?" she asked urgently, and Sam wasn't ready for this—to hear her say goodbye, to really face what he was about to do, it was too much, and she'd only said that she loved him, out loud, two or three times his whole life. When they'd been kids, preschool age, she always was drawing stick figure families on construction paper and very often they had proclaimed in terrible kiddy handwriting i luv Sam end Deen with backwards e's and an m with too many ridges. Sam had secretly kept one of those all these years, and they'd probably find it in his stuff after… well, after he was gone.

He swallowed a huge lump in his throat. "I-I love you too, you know I do," he said, and tried to cover over his wavering emotional state with an attempt at a smile. "Look, let's save our goodbyes for later, okay?" He begged. She just looked up at him, grieved, and Sam pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then hugged her a minute more.

Dean could see how Sam was struggling and he wet his lips, attempting to give his kid brother and sister a way out through humor. "Hey, you two bleeding hearts done over there?" He asked in a goofy, faux-impatient voice. Sam looked up, his face softening as he gave a little air laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, we are, jerk."

Dean looked at Sam, unperturbed and all show. "Bitch."

The brothers both looked at Alex, waiting. And seeing that they were trying to cheer her up, recognizing that they were waiting for her signature addition to the classic Winchester squabble, she gave in, a sad little smile on her face as she raised her hand up and with her thumb and index finger made the shape of an "L" on her forehead. Losers. Just like old times. Her expression wavered and Sam patted her shoulder gently. "Lemme go get you some medicine, okay?"

She nodded and let out a trembling breath as he let go of her.

And he walked into the gas station convenience store. She watched him for a long couple beats and Dean watched her, worried. She finally turned and looked at him oddly. Dean felt so damn guilty and bad, all he wanted was to be the big brother she loved again. "What is it?" he asked, shutting the door to his side of the car finally. She shook her head, eyes somewhere far away for a minute.

"I just... didn't think it would end like this," she said blankly.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, and started over to her slowly. He hadn't, either. And he wanted to fall to his knees and weep at the thought of losing Sam. He was still hoping, maybe foolishly, that another answer would present itself. But his little sister needed reassurance, so he tried his best to act like he had himself together. "When you gotta save the whole world, I guess you gotta take some losses." She looked absolutely devastated and he touched her arm gently, hesitating, not sure if that was what she wanted or not, if he'd just piss her off or not. "It'll be okay, Al. I promise. Somehow. We'll get through this. You and me." He remembered Cas, and looked back at him falteringly, grudgingly. He had to force himself to say this next part. "And… him too I guess." Alex looked at him in dawning disbelief.

Dean just shrugged guiltily. He had no other choice, and he had realized that she was going to decide what she would decide… he had no control over her. He had to swallow his misgivings and let her do what she was going to do. It wasn't to say he didn't have a huge problem with her dating the dude who would get her killed down the road, but… today just wasn't the day to rake her over the coals about it. And her stunned reaction to his grudging tolerance made him feel sort of ashamed. She hadn't looked at him like she used to—like he was her hero—in forever, it felt like. All he wanted to do was take care of his little sister. He looked at her sadly, expecting her answer to be no. "Hey, are you and I… we ever gonna be okay again?"

She gave him a helpless smile. It was tainted by sadness and didn't quite reach her eyes. "We always are, aren't we?" Implying that yes, they would be all right, maybe not now, but eventually.

And that's what he needed to hear—that at least one of his siblings was going to stick with him, that he hadn't ruined the relationship completely, and Dean smiled at her through the pain. Yeah. They always were, and he ruffled her hair affectionately, so glad that he could almost cry. "That's my girl," he told her softly, like he always used to.

Her expression distorted, she looked close to crying. "I am your girl," she told him, and the fierce, certain, no-doubt-about it way she said it went along with the crushing hug she suddenly gave him. "And I always will be." Man, that got him straight in the heart.

"Y-you okay, Al?" he asked her, pulling back and holding her by the arms, studying her face closely.

Even though her face was streaked with tears, she made a face at him that suggested it was ridiculous for him to even imply she'd be okay at the current moment. And he wondered which twin got the sass from which, or if they'd just both been born with it. "No." She indicated the car with a thrust of her chin and then dashed her fist across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. She made a brave, playful face at him. "Now put gas in the car, Dina."

He rolled his eyes and made a face, raised his hands in mock surrender, then pulled a face. "Yes ma'am."

He missed the way her face fell when he turned back around. She looked at him like she thought she'd never see him again.

He sauntered over to the pump and began to fill the tank, leaning against the car casually. He rubbed his chin absently then stretched, rolling his neck and trying to ease the tension there. For a couple minutes, he spaced out and watched the purchase amount go up as the tank filled. Suddenly struck by a funny memory that he knew would cheer his sister up, Dean chuckled. "Hey, do you remember that time you and Sammy—" he began and turned then stopped short—she wasn't standing where she'd been, and when he peered down into the car, all he saw was Cas, still sleeping soundly.

And after Sam came back out with no Alex in tow, after they checked the bathrooms and the store and shouted her name and checked with Bobby who was idling nearby… they realized that their sister was gone. Without an explanation or clear warning, she was just gone.

---

Author's Notes: Dearest readers, on a serious note, please be prepared. The next chapter contains some pretty dark content and some huge reveals!