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.

49. One Big, Happy Family

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 49 / One Big, Happy Family

"I don't want love to destroy me like it has done my family."
- Pink

---

Dean flicked on the light in Lisa's garage, deep in his troubled thoughts. Jamie had just dropped him back off a few minutes ago and it was midday. Ben was at school—Lisa was at work—and Dean was a wreck, even though you'd never know it from just looking at him.

His phone call with his sister repeated in his mind over and over. Was he supposed to be worried, or was he supposed to be pissed? Because he was worried. Definitely worried. And hurt. And confused, because he thought she should want to see him as bad as he wanted to see her. All he wanted to know was why.

He slowly entered the garage and looked at the covered Impala pensively. It had literally taken everything inside of him to back off and let his sister have the space she apparently wanted or needed so badly. Dean couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her at some deep level. Thinking back to the night she'd stormed off after putting a gun in his face worried him even more. He went over and over that fateful night in his mind day after day. He shouldn't have gotten drunk, he shouldn't have antagonized her or let his grief get the better of him. He'd selfishly thought no pain could top his own at losing Sam and had felt angry at her for acting like hers was worse than his. It had been a stupid, immature, and probably totally wrong assumption. He'd recently come across an article about twins that was written by a girl who'd lost her twin. A quote from the piece haunted him: In the co-dependent claustrophobia of our sister-sister relationship, there was a strange kind of comfort. When my sister died, it seemed unusual and painful to breathe, to stand alone, to be so unconfined. She and I had an unbreakable bond… and yet, it was broken. Funny. That's kind of how Dean felt about losing Alex. Only, she was alive. Alive and unwilling to see him. There is nothing like losing your twin—nothing. I feel guilty for being alive. The hardest part is relearning who I am in the world without my twin. It's a long road for me.

He thought of the words he'd read on a page, imagining Alex was the one who had written those things. As bad as Dean hurt, there was a growing suspicion that she was going through something worse than he was. After all, she'd been possessed by the devil however briefly. That had to leave a mark. His heart ached and he wanted to shake his sister and yell at her let me help you goddammit! He was barely able to function past basic necessity, but he hid it, and he hid it well. The thought of Alex struggling similarly broke him.

Dean went to the back of his car and pulled the cloth cover off of Baby just enough so that he could access the trunk. The sight of the familiar gleaming black body made him pause and he ran tentative fingers across the smooth surface sadly. I miss you, old girl. Dean wasn't even entirely sure why he was doing this. He kinda figured it must be sentiment. That, and patheticness. Which wasn't even a word, but should be.

He opened the trunk slowly and the familiar smell of the Impala hit his nostrils—old leather, linseed oil, salt, engine oil. A wave of bittersweet nostalgia hit him as he breathed in and glanced over the contents of the trunk. Sam's old stuff—a couple duffel bags of clothes and personal effects. Dad's journal. Some hunting gear, some extra weapons. His old leather jacket—the one Jamie had nicknamed him after. Alex's backpack she'd left behind, the wallet she hadn't taken with her when she'd left so abruptly. He hadn't looked in the trunk for pretty much the entire time he'd been with Lisa. He'd shut it all away and covered it up, trying to make it all go away. But today, he wanted to look through all of it and remember. Touch the things that held pieces of the life he'd lived, the life he'd lost. He reached for Alex's wallet where he knew he'd find fake IDs with the stupid punny names she thought up. Some of her best hits: Al Beebak, Yura Butt, I.C. Weiner, Anita Lay, Gaye Hooker, Seymour Butts. God, they'd been so carefree in years past. When the hell had it all gotten so hopeless?

A noise from inside the house suddenly startled him, making him jump and go tense. Just like that, he was in red alert mode. It was still too early for Ben to be home and Lisa would be at work... who was that in his house? Paranoid, with thoughts of monsters and enemies clouding his mind, Dean whipped his pistol out from where he'd stuffed it into the waistband of his pants earlier and he edged into the house silently, expecting bad guys to jump out from behind every corner and piece of furniture. His heart raced—he heard shuffling footsteps and he whipped around the corner where the intruder was, his pistol trained on where the sound was coming from—and he subsequently scared a very unsuspecting Lisa half to death.

She screamed and dropped the basket of laundry she'd been holding even as a shocked Dean immediately let the gun's aim fall away from her. She'd sagged backwards with a hand against her heart and was half-standing against the wall, breathing hard, expression filled with frightened alarm at the sight of the weapon. "Dean! What the hell!?"

Having realized his mistake the second it was too late—she was supposed to be at work, why the fuck was she at home!?—Dean reacted less than calmly, barely able to breathe from the shock of having almost shot his girlfriend. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he asked and he sounded angry, even though in reality, he was freaked.

She was equally freaked. "I'm taking a long lunch to catch up on laundry, Jesus, Dean!" She was shaking, looking at him like he was totally insane. Dean put the weapon down with a clunk onto the hutch beside himself and held his hands out to show her he meant no harm.

"I'm sorry," he said, scrambling to explain himself. "I heard a noise and I thought—"

"Thought what?" Lisa demanded, panicky. He tried to approach her and she held a hand up, silently telling him not to come closer. He stopped. Her other hand was still on her chest. "God, you almost gave me a heart attack," she accused, voice high-pitched in agitation. "You should have called me and told me you were gonna be back!"

Dean looked down, pissed at himself and feeling stupid. He should have, but he hadn't even thought about it. Lisa seemed to come around a little more when she saw that he was upset. She took in a deep breath. She was guarded and a little mad, but she pushed it aside visibly. "Is everything okay?" she questioned in a strained voice. "D-did you find your sister?"

Dean had to look down again as he worked his jaw bitterly. "Yeah. Mostly."

Lisa's eyes widened. "Mostly?"

Dean realized how that sounded distinctly like he'd found his sister dead and in pieces and he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation then explained himself, even though, at the moment, he was so frustrated he wanted to break something. "No, yeah, sorry, we found her and she's fine. But she won't let me visit her. I didn't even see her. Just…" he gestured his hands jerkily and let them fall to his sides with a slap. He felt so empty. "Talked to her on the phone."

Lisa listened then nodded with a frown on her face. She shrugged sympathetically. "Maybe that's for the best, Dean."

He looked at her sharply, a knee-jerk reaction. "How the hell would that be for the best?!" he demanded loudly, maybe too loudly, and her expression faltered at his rough tone.

Dean hesitated after his outburst, immediately wishing he hadn't asked it so harshly and rudely, ashamed at himself but also not too happy with her comment. And maybe it was just because tensions were high for him right now or because he and Lisa had been arguing a little more than usual. But mostly, it was because he didn't like it when she insinuated that his family ties made him weak. He didn't like how whenever Alex or Sam came up, Lisa tried to sidestep the conversation and act like the twins were in the past and staying there. Didn't she understand how much he loved his brother and sister? How they had been his entire goddamn life for thirty-some years and losing them both at the same time had almost killed him? That he couldn't just close that chapter of his life and move on and be normal, well-adjusted, happy? No. She didn't understand, and she never would—she wasn't from the reality he'd lived in. No one but his flesh and flood knew that heavyhearted feeling, and the only family member he had left didn't even want to see him. So he had every right to be miserable and irritable, right?

Maybe he did, but Lisa's hurt expression made him feel bad. However, instead of apologizing, he just grew stone-faced and attempted to hide how ashamed he was—it was easier than trying to put forth the effort to ask for understanding and comfort. "I'm gonna get some air," he muttered and brushed past her somewhat coldly, knowing full well it was a dick move on his part. But he needed to be alone with his thoughts, he needed to go feel sorry for himself—and he knew that Lisa wouldn't let him throw himself a pity party. Not for the first time, he thought about how he didn't know why Lisa let him stay, why she put up with him and his constant bullshit. But, she did. For now anyway.

After going outside and standing there broodingly for a few beats, Dean did what he'd been doing with increasing frequency lately: he headed to the bar. His old friend Jack Daniels understood all of his pain and sometimes even took big chunks of it away. Not forever, but for a few blessed hours at least. And Dean, a desperate man, would take whatever relief he could get.

He guessed that he should resign himself to this life of mowing the lawn and helping with bills and having arguments with Lisa over how to keep the pantry organized, but for some reason, he felt like this was temporary and he kept holding onto a twisted hope that this wasn't it for him.

And he was guilty when he entertained those thoughts, because he'd always imagined this little suburban life was what he wanted. Now that he had it… he wasn't so sure anymore, and it freaked him out that he felt that way. He owed too much to Lisa and Ben to walk away. He loved them, he did… but…

When Alex finally showed up and asked him to hit the road with her, he wouldn't say no.

And he wondered about what kind of man that made him.

---

Two Months Later

The sharp sound of her cell ringing cut through the silence and Jamie Ward glanced at the time readout in her car, frowning as she grabbed her phone and steadying the steering wheel with her other hand. Four in the morning, and whoever was calling her was from a number she didn't know. "Hello?"

"Jamie! Where are you?" It was a loud, rough male voice on the other end.

"...Dean?" Jamie asked, not entirely sure if the theory was correct, but that sure sounded like Dean Winchester's voice on the other end.

"Yeah it's me, now where are you?" he asked again, demanding and way loud and not explaining himself at all.

Jamie made a face at his coarse approach. "Driving," she answered, a little irritated at his attitude. She played along sarcastically. "Where are you?"

He ignored her question and she then heard the growing note of urgency and alarm in his hurried voice. "Listen, this is important: there are some djinn after my family, okay? I was poisoned by one today, almost died, they're after Alex now, it's this whole revenge deal and she's next on the hit list—I'll explain later but I need you two to get inside someplace safe and stay inside till I get there with backup—these djinn are extremely dangerous, you hear me? Not like the ones I've seen before—all they gotta do is touch you and you're as good as dead."

"Well that's just great," Jamie muttered resentfully almost to herself. It was always something, and that something was always bad. She was exhausted, depressed, and fighting the world's biggest headache from sleep deprivation, but it looked like she was gonna have to put her own needs on hold as usual. "How do you know they've even tracked us down?" Maybe this was a false alarm.

"I don't, but it's too dangerous to act like they haven't until I get there," Dean said forcefully. He sounded scared. "Now I need you guys to get inside and tell me where you are so we can burn rubber and meet you."

Jamie winced. She wasn't with Alex at the moment, but was on the way back and would be there within fifteen or so. She decided to keep that information to herself. "It's the Super Eight in Lansing. Room one twenty one."

"Okay, I think we can get there in about forty," Dean said. "You two lock the doors and turn the lights off. We know there's three of these creeps, maybe more. Do not try and fight them, you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Jamie said, coaxing more speed out of her SUV in an effort to get back there faster. He was talking loud enough that if she held the phone at arm's length she still could have made out his words perfectly. He was as insufferably bossy as she remembered him being. She paused, suddenly realizing. "Wait, who's 'we'?"

There was a brief pause. "Uh, me and some friends." He sounded almost like he was dodging the question, but he was changing the subject before Jamie had time to be skeptical. "I need you to give me Alex's number so I can give her the heads up."

"Yeah all right, hold on a sec." She held her phone out in front of herself as she scrolled through her contacts list, eyes flickering between the dark road and the bright phone screen. She pursed her lips together tightly and let out a long, tired, nervous breath. It was always only a matter of time before the dark caught up and swallowed a hunter whole. However, today wasn't gonna be that day. Not if she had anything to do with it.

---

Room 121

Alex gasped loudly underneath him, whimpering anxiously as he took her higher and higher… skin to skin, body to body—she had missed this so much, she had needed this so much. His mouth came to hers yet again, briefly capturing the increasingly loud moans she was emitting. Clinging to him with everything she had, needing him as close as possible, she didn't care about anything but what he was doing to her right now. He was breathless as he ravished her. She felt the rising finish begin to come over her abruptly. She cried out helplessly as ecstasy began to wreck her; she groaned out as he carried her through the rolling tide of bliss; and then he too lost composure and began to crumble. He moaned in soft distress over and over again against her neck, his hands tight and hard on both her upper and lower back as he crushed her underneath himself, filling her every sense. Waves of pleasure kept crashing over them and she was holding on for dear life, so overwhelmed by the intimacy they shared, so overcome with feelings of safety and wholeness and belonging.

Spent, Alex collapsed down onto the bed shaking and winded, looking up into his face breathlessly… and when their eyes met, she wondered why she suddenly felt so sad. A faint sense of inexplicable disappointment and doubt grew. She reached up and hesitantly brushed some of his dark hair away from the side of his forehead, her features twisting into a confused frown. Something was... wrong. It felt like any moment he might slip away. "Cas?" she asked him softly. Her voice sounded far away and she was beginning to feel more and more afraid because something was off, and where had he even come from?

She couldn't remember anything and felt disoriented, and then Cas visibly began to withdraw from her and became emotionally cold. Fear struck her like lightning, panic rose. "Don't go, don't leave me," she insisted and begged at the same time, trying to clamp her panicking arms around his torso to keep him there with her.

"Let go of me," he said flatly. His voice wasn't right.

No—no! "You promised you wouldn't leave me—you promised!" she said, voice rising hysterically. Just as she feared, he looked down at her uncaringly, like her words meant nothing to him. He thought she was pathetic and she could see it in the expression on her face. But—he had just looked at her like he loved her, what had she done? Why? He tried to move away but she held on tighter, increasingly alarmed, crying now, desperate to keep him there with her.

"Please Cas, tell me why, what I did—no, don't go!" He tore himself out of her arms and she felt naked and betrayed, the room seemed too big and empty, sounds echoed loudly, the floor tilted sideways, he was walking away and all she saw was tan trench coat and she couldn't get to him or grab onto him to make him stay. She tried to call him but her voice was gone, she tried to run after him, but she was held down by an invisible force.

Come back—why are you leaving? You can't leave me!

A loud ringing, buzzing noise sounded beside her head. What the… Alex jolted awake without warning and was very jarred as she realized that she'd been asleep. What had just happened with Cas had all been a dream. A very realistic... very convincing dream. She was deeply upset, out of breath, and her heart was racing in fear and panic caused by the dream-turned-nightmare. There was an immediate and strong sense of being tricked and she was angry as she listened to her phone ringing and vibrating loudly beside her head. She sat up in a jerky motion and snatched her phone up, scowling at the screen. Unknown number. Churlish—short on sleep (she never slept restfully anymore) and in a foul mood in general these days, Alex threw the phone back in the direction of the bedside table. It hit the side of the table and there was a loud crack. Whatever.

She cast glances around the dark motel room and saw that Jamie still wasn't there—she sometimes stayed gone overnight. Glen was overseas and had been for the past four weeks, there was no telling when that giant dumbass would be back.

Alone. She was alone, it was four in the morning, and she could already tell getting back to sleep wouldn't happen. Giving a charged sigh, Alex swung her legs over the side of the bed and rested an elbow on each knee, tiredly scrubbed her face with both hands, trying not to think about her very hot and heavy dream or the part where it crashed and burned and the rejection and abandonment happened.

She dreamt of Cas often—seemingly unable to escape thoughts of him even in sleep. Some nights she dreamed that he stood very far off and she tried to get to him but he would look back at her scornfully then break her heart when he told her to stop following him and that he was done with her. Yet some other nights she dreamt the opposite, that he came to her and held her, stroked her hair and was gentle, kind, and reassuring. Telling her that he just had to "stay away awhile longer." Sometimes he was far away and they couldn't get to each other but she could feel that he loved her, that he longed for her like she longed for him. And other nights still she dreamed things like she had tonight… things that left her frustrated and empty and aware of how alone she was. Aware of how utterly heartbroken.

It had been two months since she'd seen Cas so briefly. Since he'd appeared and saved her from Nandriel then flung her into the middle of nowhere and disappeared again without explanation. She ached, mind, heart, spirit for understanding, for him. She hated this reality. She told herself over and over that she was fine.

But she got further and further from fine the harder she tried. One night recently, she'd thought of trying to kill herself just to see if he'd come, she'd glanced at her gun sitting there on the nightstand and then she'd balked at herself. The things she was doing lately scared her. The things she was thinking. Alex was fighting harder and harder against the realization that she needed someone to help her—that Jamie and Glen were okay but not right, they were a bandaid solution to a deep, abiding wound Alex carried around. Jamie was as closed off as Alex was past a certain point and both of the women had a silent understanding that neither wanted to bridge that gap between them. They were partners more than anything else, working well together, and they left it at that and stayed surface level. Then there was Glen. He was difficult to pinpoint, all over the place, more concerned with having fun and pursuing whatever interested him at the time, in getting thrills and taking crazy risks for kicks… in flirting with her constantly and trying to get her to go out with him. She rebuffed him time after time, sometimes flattered by it, other times pissed off by his devil-may-care attitude and over the top propositions. Alex didn't really identify with him or understand how he could be so freewheeling. But he was. Sometimes she wished she could be like him, because he never seemed to be upset by anything.

These days she was always tortured by everything but repeatedly squashed it down further and further, refusing to acknowledge the reality that she was falling apart. She wished she couldn't feel a damn thing. Dean had said that once. And as much as she wanted him... she didn't want to be the burden he carried anymore.

She thought of her twin every fucking day. Sammy's death had changed everything. Everything. The pain of losing her twin was still as fresh as it had been the day she'd woken up and subsequently realized he had taken Lucifer from her, saved her, and damned himself in her place. How was she supposed to ever be okay after that? Knowing that her error in judgement had cost her brother his life? The survivor's guilt was staggering. Sometimes she blessedly forgot everything for a little while and didn't think about reality for a few moments, then was without warning was blindsided all over again at the thought that Sammy was dead and how she'd never see him again. It was a weight she carried with her every day. Alone.

She wished so badly for a chance to do everything over again.

She sighed loudly in the silent room, frustrated with herself, depressed and not sure what she was really doing anymore. Her phone was buzzing again and she sent a resentful look in the obscure direction of wherever it had landed. Alex got up and made some coffee, trying not to think about how miserable and pointless her existence had become. She just focused on making the coffee, even though as she did that, she thought of how she wanted something else to drink, something thicker and more ruthless, something that would make her mind spike and adrenaline surge, her body feel invincible and powerful. You just had some yesterday. Get a grip.

Gritting her teeth, Alex wondered if she had a death wish and tried not to think about what she realized was honestly a full-on addiction… unaware of how she was being watched, carefully, by enemies she'd unknowingly made five years ago. Unaware of how interesting things were about to get.

---

In the back of a dim van, Dean made the phone call and held his breath. The phone rang about six times and then he got a generic, robotic voicemail message prompt. Not what he'd been hoping for. His stomach turned unpleasantly. Why couldn't she answer the phone? Was she okay? Had those sons of bitches already gotten to her?

"Please leave your name and number after the beep," said the default voicemail robot. Beeeep.

"Al, it's me, you need to call me, now. It's not safe—you're in danger. Just call me as soon as you get this, okay?" He recited his number for her and hung up, feeling a million times more anxious. What if she didn't check the voicemail? Maybe he should call again. He did, tapping his fingers anxiously on his knee, feeling a little on the insane side, thinking that maybe she just hadn't heard it ringing or something. Again, no answer. "Dammit," he muttered, then hung up and tried again, twice more. No answer either time. He could barely handle his frustrated anxiety.

"No answer?" Sam asked.

Dean looked sidelong at his brother—still unable to believe this was actually happening and that he was with Sam at all. "No," he confirmed a little guardedly, the reality of the situation hitting him all over again. "No answer." He looked at his living, breathing, in-the-flesh brother. He was still having major issues believing this was real life. Today had been completely baffling and shocking to say the least.

Sam showing up out of nowhere and saving Dean's friggin' life from a djinn poison overdose.

Sam being alive.

Sam having been alive for the entire past year.

That was the punch to the gut: finding all of that out and then learning how Sam had been hunting with the Campbell family the entire time and how he hadn't even bothered to let Dean know he was above ground again. Instead, he'd defected and decided to join up with a tiny little group of some of Mom's distant relatives who they'd never even known about. One of them was Samuel Campbell... their grandfather... who was supposed to be dead, who died in the 70's after Azazel killed him. Apparently he was in the same alive-without-explanation club that Sam was in. The theory that Sam and Samuel explained to a very upset and shaken Dean was that whatever had resurrected Sam had also resurrected Samuel. The question was why? Who had resurrected the two of them, and what did they want?

The situation was fishy and crazy and had Dean all kinds of freaked and suspicious. For the first couple minutes when he first saw Sam, he had thought he'd died and was in Heaven or Hell. But then Sam had told him no Dean, you're still breathing air and walking topside—I'm back. And it was Sam… Sam had proved it with the typical tests: silver, salt, holy water. He wasn't a demon, he wasn't a skinwalker, he wasn't a shapeshifter. He was… him. And he'd been here a whole friggin' year, never once bothering to let Dean know it. That was the single thing Dean could not get over.

"You been back practically this whole time?!" Dean asked in disbelief, staring at the brother he'd believed to be dead and lost forever until two minutes ago. "What, did you lose the ability to send a friggin' text message?!"

Calm and somber, Sam fixed Dean with an emphatic gaze. "You finally had what you wanted, Dean."

"I wanted my brother, alive!" Dean exclaimed in hurt protest.

Sam shook his head slightly, maintaining his correcting tone. "You wanted a family. You have for a long time, maybe the whole time. I know you. You only gave it up because of the way we lived. But you had something, and you were building something. Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off. I'm sorry. But it felt like after everything, you deserved some regular life."

Dean scoffed, trying to work through his jumbled thoughts and how he had the very clear cut instinct that what Sam was saying wasn't the whole truth. "Okay great, fine—" he said testily. "Then why didn't you look up Alex and drag her into this little thing you got going, huh? She's been hunting, too."

Sam's face gave away nothing, he shrugged mildly, not concerned. "I tried to find her once, but… I guess she didn't wanna be found."

Dean had the distinct impression that Sam was lying. But he hadn't called him on it. He'd just said something like "well that's just friggin' great, Sam."

Flabbergasted didn't even begin to explain how Dean felt right now. That, and out of his mind with anxiety. The djinn that had come after him weren't playing around—they'd dosed him up real good, made him see all kinds of insane shit, then Sam had appeared out of thin air and stabbed Dean with a needle full of some kind of antidote Samuel had. If not for his brother, Dean would have died. Apparently these djinn weren't like the other ones Dean had run into before. These new ones looked like humans, were fast and strong, and most importantly they were out for revenge against Dean and his family. Several years ago, the Winchesters had killed a djinn that captured and almost killed Dean—and now, apparently, that djinn's kids were out for revenge.

The second Sam and Samuel had explained the situation to him—that Sam had been hit by these djinn just a few days ago, that Dean's poisoning was not the last and Alex was most certainly next—Dean had gone into overdrive, making arrangements for Gwen—another Campbell relative he didn't know or trust but had to for the sake of emergency—to take Lisa and Ben to Bobby's for safekeeping in case the djinn came back around and realized Dean wasn't dead after all.

"Hey man can you drive faster?" Dean asked loudly. The van wasn't going quickly enough, every spare second they could gain might save his sister's life.

In the driver's seat of Samuel's van, Christian—some third cousin or crap like that—glanced back. "Relax," he said, not shy about letting Dean know the command got on his nerves. Dean had disliked the guy from the get go, but that feeling of distaste only grew at the snide comment.

Samuel glanced back at Dean, a little less passively aggressive hostile than Christian. He was a tall, imposing man with a shining bald head and dark eyebrows. "Take it easy, Dean," he said steadily and confidently. "As long as they did what you said, she'll be fine."

Dean didn't believe in guarantees and knew how things could and did go wrong constantly in this line of work. He didn't appreciate being told to calm down... Alex and Jamie were in danger and Glen too if he were there—he'd forgotten to ask. Dean glanced at Sam, wanting someone to back him up on how they needed to hurry—but Sam wasn't even looking at Dean, he was scrolling around on his phone. Dean almost did a double take. Sam looked almost bored. Indignant, Dean looked at his brother crazily. "What's your problem, man?"

Sam looked up neutrally. "What do you mean?"

"Why am I the only one freaking out over this?" Dean asked, pretty sure he wasn't nuts to be concerned here.

Sam seemed to be humoring him at this point. He gave a short little derisive laugh and patted Dean on the shoulder. "Dean. Relax. Don't lose your head. It's been awhile since you've hunted," he said, holding Dean's gaze almost patronizingly. "Keeping your head is the most important thing. You know this."

Dean was mystified and angry all at once. "Yeah but… this is our sister we're talking about," he protested.

Sam nodded and shrugged. "I know. And she'll be fine. Just calm down, Dean." He went back to his phone and Dean made a face. What the hell was going on with these people?

---

Room 121

"Alex will you stop?!" Jamie urged, blocking Alex's way out of the motel room. "Just wait for your brother to get here—"

"Jamie, if I don't go out there and take care of this, those blue-eyed djinn assholes are gonna start trying to lure me out, and you know how they're gonna do that?" Alex was intense. "Using people. Innocent people." She clenched her weapon tighter, wishing Jamie would just move. "We've waited long enough for him to get here and I'm not risking it—and besides that: I don't need him to rescue me!" She sounded bitter then almost threatening when she spoke again. "Now get out of my way."

Jamie tried again as Alex made to move forward, blocking her strongly. "You can't kill these things without a silver blade dipped in lamb's blood," she protested, then eyed the dark steel scimitar Alex held at her side adamantly. "Which is not that."

Alex smirked despite herself. "Yeah, well, pretty much everything dies when you cut its head off," she replied darkly. "Now move."

Jamie gave up but wasn't happy about it. Alex brushed past her and left the motel room.

Striding out into the middle of the mostly-empty motel parking lot, Alex looked at the djinn she'd spotted off across the street. He was young and his head was shaved, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his arms were covered in bright unnaturally blue tattoo patterns. She wondered if he were the one who tried to kill Dean. "I'm right here, you sons of bitches!" she shouted, glancing around for the other ones now. "Come and get me!"

"Well, well," came a female voice and Alex turned sharply. "Finally decided to come out and play." A tall young woman with curly brown hair and beautiful features stepped out from where she'd been lurking on the other side of Jamie's big SUV. She wore a tank top and her bare arms had bright blue tattooed swirls and abstract lines that reached to her elbows.

Alex looked her up and down calculatingly. "You know, you could have come to the door and knocked instead of skanking around out here in the dark like a freak."

"Where would the fun be in that?" the female djinn replied, matching Alex's cynical tone. The cool hatred wasn't hard to miss. "Allow me to introduce myself," she said snidely. "I'm Brigitta. You and your asshole brothers killed my father…" her faux smile faded. "And I've been waiting a long time to meet you, Alex."

Alex was up for the challenge and felt herself smiling ominously. She gave a dark little chuckle. "I bet you have." She lowered her chin slightly, tensing, adrenaline surging—this was the only time she felt alive anymore, when she was about to kill something. "Are you gonna cry like your daddy did when I stabbed him in the back?" Fury flashed across her opponent's face and Alex lashed out abruptly, slashing at Brigitta who jumped back and dodged the blow just barely, grabbing Alex's wrist with surprising deftness before she slammed her up against the Tahoe and grabbed her neck crushingly. She held her wrist against the car, preventing Alex from hurting her.

"I'd heard you were the one who killed him," Brigitta spat through bared teeth. "So this is for my father you bitch." The blue tattoos on her arms suddenly began to grow, expanding and curling down from her elbow to her forearm, her wrist, then her hand. Alex felt a strange burst of unpleasantness coming from from the source of the djinn's hand, seeping into her veins and bloodstream. But then the poison stagnated and fizzled out, not achieving its intended goal. Alex felt herself smiling at Brigitta who frowned in confusion, startled at the lack of reaction.

"Sorry, sweetie," Alex said in a low, cool voice. "Must be my diet." Even more confusion, and then fear filtered across the djinn's face, and Alex's smile was gone. In its place, cold-blooded murder. "I heard you tried to kill my brother," she growled, face darkening. "That was your dad's same mistake." In a burst of adrenaline and vengeance, she broke the grip holding her down by violently grabbing onto Brigitta's wrist and twisting it hard enough to break. When the djinn doubled over, stumbling back as she cried out in pain, Alex raised her foot up and kicked her adversary hard in the stomach, shifting her grip on her weapon into both hands. She mercilessly bore down on her enemy, destruction humming through her veins. It happened too fast for Brigitta's two nearby brothers to stop—Alex's scimitar slashed horizontally through the air and found its mark, sent Brigitta's head flying off her body with a sickening thwack sound.

The headless body fell sideways and Alex stood over it, blade in hand, then turned to look over her shoulder where a very angry young band male djinn was quickly coming at her, his hand outstretched, absolute rage filling his face. Alex turned to face him and meet the attack head on, didn't see the other brother behind her, wasn't aware of his presence until he abruptly grabbed her even as the bald one did what his sister had and shoved his hand at her neck, choking her.

This time, the djinn's poison seemed to have a mild effect on Alex, who wavered and became woozy. And then suddenly Jamie was standing next to her and had grabbed the djinn's bare wrist in a brazen, iron-like grip.

"Cede mihi ingenium!" Jamie exclaimed, her voice crackling with power and her face filled with a startling fierceness, a brutal concentration. A sudden wind blasted across them, sending Jamie's fair blonde hair blowing away from her face—and her eyes glowed blue for a brief moment, just like a djinn's would—confusion filled the djinn's face as she held her grip on his forearm and strange dark veins began to grow underneath the place where Jamie's hand gripped. Alex could have laughed in her quickly-increasing state of delirium. That's right you dicks, I have a witch in my back pocket. What now?

Her attacker's blue tattoo marks were gone and instead, they covered Jamie's arm and hand—she'd claimed his ability, however briefly. Alex began to feel clarity return even as the djinn Jamie refused to let go of began to fall to his knees underneath her relentless grip. She seemed to grow slightly taller and stared down at him then she began to shake with effort, as the veins that spread across his arms became bigger and bigger. His eyes rolled back into his head even as he overdosed on his own poison. He crumpled to the ground, dead, and Jamie, weakened at the use of magic and becoming affected by the djinn's poison stumbled, began to dry-heave, then fell onto all fours as the blue tattoos faded from her skin. She went pale and her eyes clouded over, milky white. She fell down and over onto her back, going still as blood trickled out of her nose.

Even as Jamie collapsed, Alex felt her blood trying to fight the poison. She struggled against the last djinn who had grabbed her neck from behind and wasn't letting go. He was letting every ounce of poison he possessed seep into her. He was strong, and the poison overloaded her system—Alex felt her heart speeding up to fatal rates, colors exploded strangely at the edges of her vision, and she thought, hmm, the poison must really be working. She began to hallucinate, seeing Dean and Sam running towards her. She heard one or both of them yelling—there were a couple other guys she didn't recognize with them. Interesting, she thought sort of despondently.

Then the world faded out and she lost consciousness completely.

---

Alex blinked her eyes open in confusion. She'd been put onto a bed and was back in what looked like the motel room.

"Hey, hey, you with me kiddo?" Came a very familiar, very urgent voice. She felt a hand smacking the side of her face a few times, gently, repeatedly. She made a sound of protest and ducked her head away from the hand, trying to bat away her attacker, looking up and squinting through normalizing doubled vision. Then her heart went still when she saw who it was.

Bent over her with a hand on either arm as he looked down at her with heartwrenching amounts of relief flooding his face... her big brother. Her wooziness disappeared instantly and her eyes went wide. "Dean!" she exclaimed softly. Her heart seemed to soar out of her and she reacted on impulse, not thinking even for a second of the year-long separation or the tension between them. Just feeling happier than she'd ever been ever to see her brother. She was already starting to sit up and as she did, he readily scooped her into a solid, relieved embrace, lifting her up into a sit-hug, his familiar big arms tight around her, one hand cradling the back of her head protectively—he made a soft relieved sound, and Alex hugged him around the neck and let out a shaky breath that was almost a sob. Her eyes squeezed close tight as she tried to reign in her suddenly unstable emotions, as she tightened her arms around his comforting, familiar shoulders. She couldn't stop the smile that broke her face even as the threat of tears loomed. For the first time in almost twelve months... she was completely okay. Just like when she'd been a little girl, she turned her head away from him, letting her neck nestle against his, her cheek on his shoulder. She didn't want to let go ever. She suddenly struggled against tears and clamped her mouth in on itself and felt one of his hands tighten on her back. Why the hell had she left him? It made no sense to her now. None at all.

She drew back but not too far, keeping her hands on either side of his shoulders, hardly able to believe he was really there, needing to make sure it really was him. He looked the same as she remembered… he looked fractionally older maybe and she didn't recognize his shirt, but it was definitely Dean and she didn't realize how much she'd missed him until right now. "Hey," she said softly, voice wavering with emotions.

His eyes were shining a little, he smiled at her. "Hey," he repeated softly. He didn't let go.

Alex looked at him wordlessly for a long few seconds, struggling a little with how to put it. "I'm… I'm sorry," she said, encapsulating all of it—everything she needed to say to him—into two words.

His little smile grew bigger and it was soft, tender the way he looked at her, and she saw that he didn't care about any of it. "Me too."

She opened her mouth to ask him what happened and what was going on—and then the door to the motel room opened. Alex's heart dropped out of her completely as a very familiar looking tall young man with longish brown hair walked in. Sam!? Shock flooded her nervous system, then confusion, then understanding, all within the space of two seconds. Alex's face fell and she felt utter devastation come over her when she realized this wasn't real. She looked at Dean in dawning disappointment. "I'm hallucinating."

"No you're not," Sam replied factually. "It's me."

But even the way he said it was wrong. "Al," Dean said, catching her attention. He was serious and careful in the way he spoke to her. "We don't know how yet. But that is Sam."

Alex shook her head and looked down, pulling away from Dean and into herself. "Come on guys," she said sullenly, mad she couldn't even enjoy her fantasies now. "I know how this works. Djinn poison you and as you overdose to death they show you either your worst fears or greatest desires…" she trailed off when the door opened again.

A tall, bald man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties came in followed by a shorter, brown-haired guy. Who the hell were they?

"Ganked that last one, cleaned up the other two bodies," said the bald one. What, the djinn? Alex stared in confusion.

"This is real," Sam said, again factual and sounding only mildly invested, drawing her attention again. "You were poisoned but Samuel's antidote saved your life. And hers." Sam motioned briefly to somewhere beside Alex and she looked to see that Jamie was sprawled unconscious on the bed next to her.

Confusion overcame Alex even more strongly than before and she felt dumb, uncertain. "...what?" she asked uselessly, trying to make logical sense of what didn't make any sense at all to her. She looked at Dean for explanation.

"Long story," he said genuinely, carefully, like he was trying to break the news to her gently. "But… that's Sam. And he's alive. You're not hallucinating."

She looked at Sam again, mouth hanging open dumbly. That was Sam? And Sam was alive? Alex looked at Dean in rising horror, breathless and barely able to speak. "D-did you… did you make another deal?"

"No!" Dean said immediately, seeming to be shocked. He seemed to think of something with great amounts of sudden dread. "Wait, did you?"

She was offended by his question. "Of course not!"

Dean seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding and shrugged, shook his head, then looked over his shoulder at Sam with an air of brooding. "I dunno what to tell you. That's him." Her oldest brother sounded apprehensive about his statement but she didn't care or pay it mind—as if in a dream she stood, not even realizing it, staring at her twin in quickly heightening emotion—that was Sam—and Sam was alive—and it was all okay somehow oh my god! He smiled sort of pleasantly as she walked the five steps separating them in a dazed shock then slammed into him and hugged him for all she was worth, suddenly breathing hard and noisily, sort of like Sam did sometimes. She felt him hug her back, but it was weird. It didn't feel right. She pulled back and looked at him questioningly. Why was he so calm and not overjoyed to see her too? As quickly as she'd been overcome with relief, she was overcome with an inexplicable suspicion.

"Good to see you, Alex," he said.

Good to see me? Alex stared with a frown that grew deeper with every heartbeat. "...H-how long have you been back?" she asked dubiously, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Sam made a nonchalant face, seemed to be preparing for some fallout. "Uh, like eleven months now I guess."

Her stomach dropped and eyes bugged. "Eleven months?" Aghast and floored, she could barely process. "You've been topside for eleven months?" She turned accusingly. "Dean did you know this?"

"I found out today," he told her, letting it be known with his tone of voice that he wasn't happy, either.

Alex looked back at her twin, utterly betrayed and flustered with bewilderment. "Then where the hell have you been? Why'd you let me think you were dead this whole time? I mourned you Sam, I wanted to kill myself some nights because I thought you were…!" She trailed off. He had the audacity to look slightly confused at her reaction. Anger overcame Alex, beginning to make her voice rise. "And you're just… fine?" Didn't he know or care about the hell she'd been through?

"Look, I should have found you," he said, not rising to her level of emotion. "I tried, okay? But you didn't wanna be found."

She stepped back from him and looked him up and down with narrowed eyes. "And Dean?" She challenged. "Why didn't you find him? What's your excuse for that one?"

Sam shrugged reasonably. "He had Lisa. He didn't need me and I wasn't going to drag him back into the life. I wanted to hunt."

"You wanted to hunt," Alex repeated incredulously. No. That didn't make sense. Sam had always wanted out of this life. She looked at the two silent men who'd come in after Sam had, and she was irritated. "And who the hell are these guys anyway?!" She jabbed a hand out at them rudely.

Dean, who'd stood up when she had, came a little closer and motioned to the older man then the younger one with a dismissing wave. "Our grandfather, Samuel Campbell. And some third cousin removed something or another, Christian."

Alex looked at Dean in slow disbelief. "Samuel Campbell. The one who died like forty years ago?"

Dean pulled a face like he thought the same thing she did—that it was crazy. "That's the one."

"Nice to meet you, Alexandra," Samuel said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

She took his hand doubtfully. He had a crushing grip. "It's Alex," she corrected curtly as he let go.

"You were named after my mother," he said, as if that gave him the right. "And isn't Alex a boy's name?" Alex withered. What the fuck?

"This is the two-thousands," Dean retorted on her behalf, trying to turn it into a joke as he walked forward to stand beside Alex, shoulder to shoulder. "We have the internet, and girls with boy names, Gramps. Listen, uh, you two wanna give me and my siblings a minute?"

Samuel glanced at Sam then Christian, sort of unhappy about the request, but he complied. "Sure," he said. Christian remained silent and shot Alex a look she didn't like. The two men left.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Alex asked as soon as the door shut, looking between both of her brothers, not sure what to think. She pointed at Sam and stared at Dean, harrowed. "How can he be back?"

"I asked myself the same question," Sam said, not giving Dean a chance to reply. "I woke up in that field, the place where I died and… no clues. Nothing. I called Cas, he wouldn't answer, I tried Bobby—"

"Bobby knew?" Dean asked, looking at Sam with a shocked expression. Alex was similarly confounded.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed to Dean's chagrin.

"...So you and Bobby were both in on keeping me and Al in the dark?!"

"If you have to put it that way, then yeah," Sam replied unemotionally. "I was trying to do what was best for you, Dean. Like you've always done for me."

"And you really were fine with letting me think you were dead this whole time?" Alex interjected, catching her twin's attention. She was hurt deeply and felt like she didn't even recognize the young man in front of her. Flabbergasted didn't even begin to describe her mindset. Heartbroken was more like it. Her eyes stung. "Sam—how could you?"

He took in a deep breath, looking off and over her head into far distance like he was making a concerted effort of some kind to think. "Look, I remember killing you, okay?" He asked—and he seemed put on the spot, uncomfortable, ready to stop talking about it. "And I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me."

Deeply offended at his sweeping assumptions, Alex crossed her arms, becoming defiant. "You didn't think maybe I'd blame myself for all of it? Spend day and night grieving you? You didn't think maybe you should just let me know you were still kicking; that you owed that to me after everything that happened?" He shrugged at her questions as if he had no answers for her. Alex shook her head, getting mad at his near-apathy. "That wasn't you who killed me. That was Lucifer. And you sound like you're making excuses." She paused and tried to reel herself in and calm down while gathering more information. "What do you remember? About the cage?"

He shrugged his mouth downward briefly. "Nothing, thankfully."

Nothing. She glanced at Dean. He was as disquieted as she felt. There was a tense silence in the room and none of them said anything for a long moment. Was Sam acting this way because he did remember and it was so horrible he had to disassociate? Was this really Sam at all?

"So... what now?" Sam asked, breaking the silence and looking at his siblings in mild expectancy. "We're probably gonna hit the road," he said, gesturing with a jerk of his thumb in the direction Samuel and Christian had disappeared in. "You two wanna join us, or…?"

Alex was astounded at his casual question. "What, just like that the gang's all back together?"

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Oh, let me think," Alex said sarcastically—had he not been listening to what she said? She could literally punch him in the face and the temptation was too great for her to resist. She turned around, forcing herself to calm down. It was then that she remembered Jamie and went over to check on her. The blonde was breathing normally, her color was good again and her pulse was fine, and looked like she'd start to come around soon.

"You, Dean?" Sam asked, behind where Alex was bent over Jamie. "You coming with us?"

Dean glanced at Alex and then hedged. "Uh… no. Don't think so. I gotta go get Ben and Lisa and take them home and… honestly man, I think that's where I'm supposed to be. With them."

"But you told me earlier that you were bad news for them, that—" Sam started, piquing Alex's interest.

"I know I did," Dean cut him off. "But I changed my mind. I gotta take care of my business, you know? And… they're my responsibility now."

Sam was quiet for a minute, thinking and somewhat imperious. "You're really going to endanger them again like that?" He asked. "Wasn't this some kind of wakeup call for you?"

Dean was a little insulted at Sam's very blasé question. "What, you're suggesting I leave them alone and unprotected? I made them vulnerable the moment I knocked on their door." He paused, and Alex saw how jaded and burdened he was. "I can't undo that."

Sam nodded and took it in stride, not seeming to empathize with him or pick up on the slightly divided mindset Dean was in. "Right. Well, I understand. But if you change your mind, lemme know." He paused and when Alex looked at him, Sam amended his statement. "And you too, Alex." She could tell he didn't give a shit either way and it hurt, it confused her. This was beyond disappointing and devastating.

The only thing that made it better? At least Sam was the only one acting like he couldn't care less—Dean looked at her and shrugged his arms out briefly. "Guess that means you're my ride," he said to her. "If that's okay with you," he added quickly. He was hopeful and looking at her with a mixture of nervousness and wavering optimism—he seemed to doubt she would go for it, but tried anyway, putting on a brave little smile. "You uh... you wanna go see Bobby?"

He wanted to spend time with her and it warmed her heart. Despite everything, Alex felt a soft little smile on her face as she looked at him—she'd spent the better part of a year trying to avoid Dean but now that he was here, all she wanted was more time together. Her throat was thick with emotion she tried to play off. "Sure. Road trip." He smiled back, relieved.

Sam looked between them and seemed to be unsurprised at their obvious bond. "Well, guess that's my cue." But it wasn't sarcastic or passive aggressive. It was matter-of-fact. "You guys call me if you need anything," he said, then glanced at Alex on his way out. "Dean's got my number."

He left just like that, leaving Alex to stare after him strangely. "Yeah, bye," she said hollowly after he shut the door. She looked at Dean wordlessly.

"I know," he said, then looked at the door Sam had just walked through. "Trust me, I know. Sam's… off."

"Try factory reset—" Alex looked at her brother in concern. "Are you really sure that's even him?"

Dean shrugged and frowned, just as confused as she was. "Yeah. Salt, holy water, silver… all Sam."

Alex frowned too and looked down, mind racing with theories and most of all, deepening disappointment. "I don't get it."

He didn't answer. She looked over at him questioningly and saw that he had other things on his mind. He had this sort of happily disbelieving smile on his face. It was like how he'd looked at her when she'd first come to. "I'm really glad to see you, Al," he murmured, and she saw how he was trying to hide his deeper emotions to avoid making things uncomfortable with how much he meant it. He gave a soft little self-conscious laugh and looked down at his shoe, face working oddly. "You got no idea how much I missed you."

She nodded, similarly unable to look at him, especially when he looked up at her sort of sidelong from the corner of his eye. "Me too," she admitted, feeling oddly transparent under his studious gaze. Her avoidance seemed to inspire worry in him.

He faced her fully and craned his neck down slightly, trying to look her in the eye. He had that gentle, questioning tone to his voice. "You okay?" He asked, paused, and clarified. "I mean, really."

She managed to raise her eyes up to look at his. "More or less."

A long, pained moan sounded and Jamie was stirring, drawing the attention of the two Winchesters. "What…" she mumbled, then made a sound like "un-nnngh," as she sat up stiffly and put a hand on her head. She half-glared as she clearly attempted to regain the ability to see straight—her hair was bushy on one side and her sullen expression was sort of humorous. Dean sauntered over to the side of the bed opposite of where Alex stood.

"Ah, well look who finally decided to join us," he quipped, earning a glare.

"What do you mean, finally?" she challenged grumpily. "You were later than you said you'd be."

Dean let her have that one. "Yeah, sorry. Apparently the Campbell side can't friggin' drive."

Jamie squinted a ridiculous amount, not understanding what he was referencing. "The what can't… huh?"

"Never mind," Dean said. "You got a little…" He pointed to underneath his own nose and she put two fingers to the same place on her face, withdrew her fingers and saw the blood. She fisted her hand up and dashed it away, immediately a little uncomfortable.

"You okay? Looked bad," Alex said—not asking outright. Dean hated witches with a passion. Jamie caught the subtle question and looked at Alex sort of sidelong.

"Yeah, fine," she said, but she was distinctly frustrated. "I don't think I did it right though."

It was Dean's turn not to understand a reference. "Didn't do what right?"

"Drop kick that djinn in the face," Jamie lied easily, smiling somewhat facetiously at him then glancing at Alex again. Alex saw the veiled nervousness in Jamie's eyes and hoped her expression conveyed herself properly: she wasn't gonna out her to Dean. After all, it wasn't exactly public knowledge that Jamie was a witch.

Alex couldn't quite figure out the backstory there either. Most witches belonged to covens or ran in duos. Jamie was a lone wolf who often seemed to be negatively affected when she used magic—nosebleeds, fatigue, passing out. After expressing concern the first time it had happened, Jamie had told Alex that she was sort of new at being a witch and still learning. From what Alex had seen, she was indeed very powerful but definitely inexperienced. Alex wasn't totally sure about her theory but she definitely got the feeling Jamie was not proud of her abilities and struggled with the idea of being a witch. Alex was curious—because witches became witches by choice—but she didn't ask about it. It was quite clearly a closed topic and painful subject for whatever reason.

Dean was shaking his head, oblivious to Alex's thoughts. He was looking at Jamie sort of lecturingly, but it wasn't without mild concern, either. "I told you not to go out there, I specifically told you."

Alex cut in, taking the blame—after all, it was her fault. "I got tired of waiting and you know, when Jamie told me they tried to kill you…" she trailed off and almost smirked, a little prideful and gloating. "Well."

Dean didn't seem to share her slightly cocksure triumph. "That was reckless as hell—I don't know why you two are still alive if you're pulling risks like that." He didn't rage at her, he seemed genuinely concerned and reasonable. Alex was distinctly surprised and impressed. Maybe he'd changed this past year.

"Yeah, well, we must be doing something right," Jamie said lightly, covering for Alex and effectively telling Dean to leave it alone. Alex sobered a little bit when she looked at Jamie again. If not for Dean, Jamie would be dead right now. Alex hadn't asked for Jamie to come out with her, she'd been prepared to face all those djinn on her own, see what happened, cut the heads off a couple of them if she was lucky. She'd gone out there not caring if she lived or died, only wanting to even the playing field a little bit. It was kind of shameful, really, how mindless she let herself become sometimes.

Alex crossed her arms self consciously. It was a miracle she'd lived this entire year—she'd been reckless and volatile. And tonight—Jamie running out there and saving her ass and almost dying in the process—was a reminder that she needed to dial it down. A little chastised, she averted her gaze. She heard her brother chuckle in amusement, his focus elsewhere.

"Need a hand, James?" Dean asked as Jamie began to clumsily swing her legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand. She gave him a supremely bitchy look at the nickname.

---

About An Hour Later

"Yeah, I'm just having a really hard time picturing you working a real job…" Alex said, teasing her oldest brother lightly. She blew on her coffee.

"Been there ten months now," Dean confirmed, raising his mug as if in salute at her from across the table.

She cracked a small grin, echoing his playful demeanor. "I'm impressed." She sat back a little in the booth opposite of him and shook her head in what seemed to be faint affection. "Look at you Mr. Normal Life."

He shrugged modestly and took a sip of his coffee. Alex was taking him to Bobby's—it was an eleven hour car drive and they'd stopped for some breakfast. He was finally getting up the nerve to ask her about what was really on his mind. He was careful, because he feared she might snap on him—however, so far, she seemed perfectly okay. Or maybe he wasn't good at reading her anymore. The past year had changed her a little. She looked good—tanner than he remembered her being, she'd gained some weight and looked healthy and more fit than she'd been the last time he saw her—she also looked tired as hell, but that was a given with the life she was living. She wore her hair in a tight ponytail which was new—but she dressed the same as she always had, jeans, boots, a plain shirt with a flannel over it, a jacket over that. She looked grown up, she looked her age. And it was bittersweet.

"Yeah—so I went all suburban and… you..." he paused, looking at her studiously, wondered about everything that had happened to her this past year. "You kept hunting."

Her eyes flickered up to his and she set her mug down, rubbing her thumb over the handle a few times, looking there instead of at him. "Not at first," she admitted slowly. "I tried real life for awhile, tried not to hunt but…" she shrugged her shoulders and mouth at the same time, "normal didn't agree with me." She smiled sort of cynically. "I mean, it was never that normal though. I got a few, you know, weird little jobs. Never got a place though… mostly lived in my car."

That detail broke his heart. "Al."

At his reaction she was markedly uncomfortable and avoided his gaze. "I didn't like staying in motel rooms. Alone." Oh god, well if he hadn't been brokenhearted a second ago, he was now and Alex saw the expression on his face and got mildly upset. "Don't do that, Dean. Don't guilt trip yourself for what I decided to do." She attempted an everything's fine smile. "It wasn't a big deal."

He put his face in his hand for a minute and gathered himself, rubbing his forehead with his palm. It was a big deal, but he withheld the urge to argue with her. He tried to stay reasonable and understanding, remembering the last time they fought. "Why'd you go?" he asked her despondently, seeing how she was reluctant to answer. "Really. After all this time… you owe me that at least."

Alex's pained eyes met his silently for a couple of beats. Her voice was barely audible and wavering when she spoke. "Do you hate me?"

A question that struck him right in the chest. He could only answer one way: readily and genuinely. "In no universe would that ever be possible, Al." Her features melted into hopeful relief and Dean sent him a small, wounded smile. "I do hate what happened, though."

She hesitated, then looked out the window beside their booth. She was silent for so long he thought she wasn't going to answer at all. Then she did. "I left because… well at first, I was just reacting. Everything was so wrong. Cas left, Sam died…" she looked down, deeply emotional but holding it back. "I couldn't handle it. I didn't know how to be around anyone with how sad I was and… I dunno. Grief makes people do weird shit." She looked back at him and chuckled ruefully in her throat, a halfhearted sound that tried to cover up her sorrow. "I mean, I tried summoning Crowley and blackmailing him into raising Sam."

Dean looked at her with wide-eyed shock. "You what?"

"Didn't work," she said, then frowned, narrowed her eyes in thought. "I don't think." They exchanged a weirded out, contemplative glance. "Anyway," Alex said—they would have to work on that one later. "When that fell through… I was gonna come get you but… I saw you with Lisa and Ben and… I thought it was what was best for you." Dean made a slight face, unhappy with how both of his siblings had decided what was best for him without consulting him at all. Alex set him with a examining, questioning gaze. "Dean, you wouldn't have stayed with them if I was around. And… all these years it's like I was this load you had to carry and I mean, really—I'm an adult, you know? It was just time for us to separate." It must have been something about how he was looking at her, because she frowned, looked at him closely, softly. "Aren't you happy?"

What a loaded question. "Honestly?" He drew in a deep breath, eyes flickering back and forth across the table in front of him. And he said nothing else, drawing a blank. Yes and no. Mostly no. He wasn't sure how to answer so he just shrugged widely. His eyes jumped up to her, he was stuck on something else she'd said. "You're not—you never were—a 'load' I carried. You're my sister. I'd do anything for you. You know that." He faltered a little. "I hope."

She looked at him with an unguarded gaze and reached across the table to squeeze his hand briefly. "I do know." There was a sadness there in her eyes and voice he didn't understand.

"Blue plate special and the number four with extra bacon," the server announced, interrupting the moment. The siblings let go and sat back. The server set the heavy ceramic plates down and bustled off.

Dean poked at his sausage and bacon and Alex started to cut up the chicken portion of the chicken and eggs she got. It was quiet for a minute, then she cleared her throat. "So, Ben—must be like having a kid, right?" She was conversational if slightly timid and her eyes flickered up to him fondly. "I bet you're good at that."

Dean smiled a little, thinking of that awesome kid who he'd basically been a dad to this past year. "He's great."

"And Lisa?" Alex continued, chewing a mouthful of chicken now. "I mean, this has to be the longest you've ever been with anyone."

Dean contemplated a sausage he'd stabbed with his fork. There weren't as many feelings there as he thought there should be. "Yeah, it is and… it's… I dunno, uh, great." He paused. "She's a really great girl."

His sister gave him a dubious if amused look in the middle of running a piece of chicken through her runny fried eggs. "You're saying 'great' a lot."

Dean stuck the sausage into his mouth. "Am I?" he asked, then turned it into a joke. "That's great." His sister just rolled her eyes in good humor at his stupid little pun and put a piece of chicken in her mouth, smiling faintly as she chewed.

The smile faded and after she swallowed, she got reflective and somber. "This is so crazy," she said introspectively, staring at her plate. "Seeing you again, seeing Sam. I still can't believe…" she paused and put her fork down, leaning an elbow onto the table in pensive thought as she fixed Dean with quite the curious frown. "You're really not gonna go hunt with him?"

Dean worked his mouth in thought, trying to stick with what he knew was the right thing. "I meant what I said about Lisa and Ben. I have to take care of them. I put them in a lot of danger, you know? I'm thinking my hunting days are over." He tried a chuckle but it sounded hollow and Alex looked at him sadly. He looked down at his plate unseeingly. "I miss it sometimes, I'll admit. I miss it cuz it's something I know how to do." He paused, thought about it more. "Or I did. I'm rusty as hell."

"You could jump back on the bike if you wanted to."

Dean hesitated. "Yeah, I dunno. I wouldn't want to unless it was the three of us again," he said, looking at her carefully for her reaction. "And with Sam not even sending a damn postcard to say he was outta Hell… I dunno. Kinda throws me off."

She nodded faintly and he couldn't tell if she was for or against the idea of the three of them hunting together again. "Yeah." She didn't invite him along to join her and when she didn't say anything else regarding the matter, Dean realized anew that this was probably it. The three of them living separate lives. Like normal grown up siblings did. He didn't like it though. Still, he tried.

They ate for a few minutes without saying anything, then Dean cleared his throat. He'd been thinking, for the silent portion, about what normal grown up siblings did, or were supposed to do. He felt insanely awkward suggesting this though. "So listen, you should visit sometimes," he said, trying not to think about what a weird time it'd be, how he knew it would all be some endless awkward thing. "You could come and stay, spend some time with Lisa and Ben, me?"

Alex glanced up at him, less than enthused, probably thinking the same thing that he was. "Yeah, uh, maybe."

Nope. He couldn't do this—he'd tried, but it wasn't right. Dean huffed and set down his silverware, leveling her with a serious gaze, deciding to just be a hundred percent honest, tell her how it was—because if he didn't, he'd never know one way or the other. And more importantly, neither would she. "Okay, look," he said intensely, full of earnestness. "I'm gonna lay it out there. You say the word, Alex… I'm there. With you. Jamie and Glen, they're nice, whatever but—they're not family. They're not me."

He saw a flicker in her eyes. She looked down, trying to hide it from him. She seemed conflicted. "I know. It's just… maybe because they're not family is why… it sort of works."

That hurt to hear. But he soldiered through. "I know there were bad times but we always had each other's backs, right?" He paused, trying to get her to look at him. "And I mean, didn't the good outweigh the bad? In the long run?" He felt like he was literally holding his heart out to her and begging her not to squash it.

So when she looked at him with eyes that were maybe a little shinier than a minute ago and nodded, he felt himself get equally emotional. "It did," she said simply.

Dean cleared his throat and stabbed another sausage, tried to get it together. After a couple more minutes, he decided to chance asking her about what Jamie'd told him two months ago. Something he'd been wondering about. "Hey, so James said something to me—like you'd done some jacked up stuff to some Kitsunes or something, what was that about?"

Alex smiled softly, almost reminiscently, and Dean felt slightly taken aback. "I've always been a little twisted," she said vaguely, looking at him with unreadable eyes. "You know that."

They all had been, honestly. And something urged Dean not to ask about it anymore. Not yet. Instead, he backpedaled, switching subjects. "She seems like she's really chilled out. Gotten cool."

Alex looked at him briefly as she took another bite of eggs. "Who, Jamie? Yeah. She's not bad."

Dean paused, looking at Alex carefully. "And that Glen guy. What's his deal?"

There was a notable reaction to the question. "He's annoying and never there when you need him to be." Something about her tone, combined with his impression of Glen from two months ago made Dean look at his sister sharply.

"He a problem?"

Alex gave him a look. "Dean."

"I'm just asking," Dean said, slightly defensive, because he wasn't being unreasonable. "Got weird vibes from him."

Alex smiled sort of sadly at her brother. "You get weird vibes from every guy who comes within ten feet of me."

Dean got quiet for a minute, deciding to take his chances. "Speaking of, uh… you heard from Cas lately?"

He saw how hurt and confusion flitted across her face, how she immediately became quietly distressed. She attempted to act nonchalant, uselessly slicing at chicken with the side of her fork. "Well. I've seen him once all year. When he got me outta that jam with Nandriel." Her jaw tightened and she looked out of the window again, her fork going still on the plate. She looked so much older in that moment. "Other than that… he won't answer. I don't know why."

As opposed as he'd been to the angel and his sister being romantically involved, as much crap as he'd given the two of them, seeing how heartbroken she clearly was—even after almost a year—Dean meant it when he told her, "I'm sorry."

She tried to scoff and laugh it off but it was a miserable attempt and she got quiet then looked at him in clear heartbreak. "You were right," she said, and her voice was soft, hurt. "I think you were right. About everything." She looked down and he saw how much pain she was in.

He didn't know what else to do. One of her hands rested beside her plate and he reached over to put a reassuring hand over hers. "It'll be okay," he said, wishing he could guarantee that. "Give it time."

She again tried to laugh, but her eyes glittered with the beginnings of tears. "Do I have any other choice?" she asked, and he saw how hard this was for her. He wished she wasn't so tenderhearted, he wished he knew a way to take away the pain. It must have been a hard year for her—thinking Sam was dead, Cas ditching out like an asshole… and going through it alone with strangers. She'd needed someone and he could have been that someone. It hurt—this entire situation just fucking hurt.

Alex drew her hand away from him and settled back into her booth to look at him silently for a long minute, visibly thinking about telling him something. "I really shouldn't have pulled a gun on you," she said after a moment. He heard how guilty she felt about it, how upset she still was. "Or said the things I said."

Dean decided that he had drawn enough pain out of her for that day and besides, he'd forgiven her. It had been a crazy time and they had both done crazy things. "It's okay. I deserved all of that," he told her, refusing to make her feel worse. Turning the conversation back to lightness, he sat back and wiggled his eyebrows at her, cracking a grin—the kind he knew she found impossible to resist. "Personally, I think you should have shot me."

There it was. A small and hesitant, bittersweet smile. She tried to hide it. "You're not funny," she said, even though she was clearly cheered by the gesture.

"I'm hilarious," he corrected playfully, then picked up a couple slices of bacon and held them out to her. "Want some of my bacon?" He put it on her plate without an answer. "I know you do."

She looked at him with that same hesitant smile—like she thought she shouldn't be smiling but couldn't help it. That had been his job throughout the years… keeping her and Sam smiling and okay through the shit storms they'd faced. It felt good to be doing that again.

For the first time in eleven months, Dean knew that he was somewhere he really did belong. And maybe it wasn't for long, because he'd be with Lisa and Ben again soon, but for now, he took it all in and as corny as it was, cherished the time together. As they made their way to Sioux Falls, Dean would make a million excuses to stop at this place and that place. Essentially he dragged his feet, prolonging the visit for as long as he could, trying to hang onto the life he'd lost as long as he could, trying to pretending that it was like it used to be: just him, his sister, and the open road.

---

Three Days Later

Tired from an eleven hour drive back and weary from all the thoughts in her mind, Alex knocked on the door to Room 213. "It's me, Jamie," she said, hefting her bag on her shoulder again. She heard movement within the room and stifled a yawn. She'd barely slept the past three days, that's how focused on spending as much time with Dean as possible she'd been. It had taken them nearly twenty-four hours to make the twelve hour trip to Sioux Falls because Dean had dragged his feet. Let's look at that overlook, he'd suggest, then oh, let's check out that record store and see if they have any cassettes. They'd taken so long that they ended up stopping at a motel for the night. They got a pizza and beer. It had been like old times… watching cartoons and then some old episodes of the A-Team. It had been surreal, comfortable and familiar. Alex kept catching herself getting really comfortable with it, then realizing this was temporary and reminding herself that she couldn't get used to it. Still. They'd made peace. And it had been really hard saying goodbye.

He'd said to her, more than once, that all she had to do was say the word. So she refused, because she really did believe that Dean should have the normal life he'd found.

This was the way it was gonna be: Dean was with Lisa and Ben, Alex was with Jamie and Glen, Sam was… with that Campbell bunch. The more she thought about it the more depressed she got: Both Sam and Cas had ditched her. Purposefully. She was pretty sure about that now.

The motel room door swung open and instead of Jamie, there was Glen—cracking a crooked grin when he saw that it was her. He was wearing a black button up with sleeves rolled halfway up, dark jeans, and had a beer in hand—he looked like he'd never been gone at all. She was surprised into stillness. "You're back!"

"Just got in a few hours ago," he said, stepping aside to let her in and gesturing for her to come inside. He shut the door behind her when she was in.

"Where's your sister?" Alex asked, noticing the distinct lack of Jamie in the room.

"Went to go get some food," he said offhandedly, following her into the room. "Need some help with that?"

She ignored his offer and slung her bag down on a bed, turning around to look at him. Glen was a talker, so she went ahead and asked before he could start bragging. "How was… wherever you went?" All she knew was he'd been 'overseas.'

He smiled to himself and he seemed to be pleasantly reminiscent. "Paris was great. Munich, loved it. Venice…" he shrugged, made a face, "sorta bored me."

Alex looked at him with reserved amusement. She wasn't sure if he were joking or serious. "Of course it did."

He shrugged with dramatic humility, then looked at her significantly. "Jay told me about Dean and Sam. Crazy times."

Ha. That was putting it lightly. "Yeah, crazy times," she replied cynically, and turned around, beginning to look through her bag.

"So, I gotta know…" he said, coming up to stand beside her. He sounded pretty serious.

She glanced at him. "What?"

Never mind—he wasn't serious. He cracked a grin, his gray eyes crinkling up in anticipation. "On a scale of nine to ten, how much did you miss me?" Alex gave him a pointed look then walked over to the little motel dresser and stuck some of her shirts in there. He made an impressed face, watching her reaction. "That much huh?" he asked, not deterred as usual. He walked over to his matching black bags, dug around, and she glanced into the mirror that was on the dresser, watching him there behind her. "Swiped you something while I was over there," he said, much to Alex's chagrin. What now?

He came back over to her, a sparkly silver and diamond something in his hand. "No big deal, saw it, thought of you." He held it out in the palm of his hand. Alex balked. It was ridiculously ornate, a diamond necklace that obviously spared no expense.

"No big deal?" She repeated, then looked at him warningly. "Do I even wanna know where you stole this from?"

He seemed to like her reaction. "Mm... probably not." He smirked, self-assured and cocky, then acted playfully wounded at her bitchface. "Come on, Alex, this necklace is awesome!" he protested.

She just made a face. Why me? He did this often—brought her and Jamie alike things from his shadier hobby—stealing. He usually seemed to stick to the United States, stealing art and valuables from rich old money then reselling it, but the past month or so he'd been overseas, getting his thrills over there she guessed. The weird thing was he didn't even need to steal, not for money anyway—Alex knew he and Jamie had both inherited some huge amount of money when their mom died, she knew they had a mansion somewhere, just not where—and while Jamie seemed to want to avoid that life completely, Glen wanted to steal from those who lived it. It seemed more like thrill-seeking than necessity, and it made Alex a little uncomfortable. Jamie didn't like it either, from what she'd gathered.

She didn't take the necklace from Glen, instead crossing her arms. "Okay, first… what on earth possessed you to get this for me?" She gestured with one hand at the thing. "I mean, does this look like something I'd wear?"

He looked at her with eyes too intense for her liking. "You should wear it. It's the kind of thing a queen would wear." Cue another eye roll from Alex, then Glen cracking a grin as he grabbed her shoulders, turning her around to face the dresser mirror despite her soft protest. "Here, try it on," he said, and gave her no choice, looping it over her head, letting it rest across her upper chest just below the collarbone. He was close to her and she was uncomfortable at his closeness. He fixed the clasp, fastening it around her, then leaned down a little and looked at her in the mirror to smile briefly. "It looks great on you," he said, his voice a little softer and deeper than usual. "Knew it would." His hands rested on either of her arms and she was trying not to overreact. He wasn't being weird or creepy, he was semi-animated and friendly now, she was just being paranoid. "I thought you needed an upgrade," he said. "From that penny necklace."

At that comment Alex huffed and turned then began to take the diamond necklace off as she walked off from him—she wore that penny around her neck because it had meaning. More meaning than all the diamonds in the world. Cas had given it to her—one of the only things he'd had in his pocket at the time, but it had been his and he'd given it to her. He gifted her with it that day after she'd almost died in the Croatoan attack. Early this year she'd drilled a tiny hole into it and strung it onto a little chain. She wore it long, too, it usually wasn't visible, it typically rested down below her shirt. Close to her heart. She wondered, offhandedly, if she should stop wearing it. If what it meant wasn't real anymore. Had it ever been? Had he really loved her like she thought?

Glen watched Alex storm off a few steps and take the necklace off. "Really? No 'thank you Glen? You're so thoughtful, Glen'?" He teased.

She looked back at him with a wan expression. "N-ope," she said in clipped tones. "Think I'll stick with my ragamuffin penny necklace but…" she smirked cynically at him and held up the diamond necklace. She pretended to be really thoughtful and contemplative as she looked at the piece of jewelry with a dramatic frown. "I wonder how much this'll get me at the local pawn shop." She flashed him a facetious smile and wiggled her eyebrows just once.

Glen wasn't upset. Through an I should have known smile, he shook his head and put a hand over his heart, pulling a wounded face. "Aw come on Winchester, you're breaking my heart," he said, looking at her with one of those little looks that was meant to charm her socks off.

"No I'm not," she replied blandly, giving him a half eye roll. He still hadn't managed to get a smile from her and he made an almost pouty face.

"Come on, Al—what do you want from me?" he asked, lightheartedly playing up the hurt tones in his voice.

"Don't call me that," she said in all seriousness. She was increasingly exasperated with him. "I want nothing from you, dude. Like I keep telling you, nothing."

He dropped his more playful attitude for a minute. "Yeah you keep saying that but… I think we both know you want more than nothing from me." His eyes searched hers, his voice dropped a little lower, he stepped a little closer, his eyes flickered down to her lips. "I keep thinking about that kiss, don't you?"

She put a hand on her hip and fixed him with a crazy look. "Yeah, I do, specifically how I never asked you for it." She shoved the necklace at him. "Keep this."

Glen didn't take it. He relented a little. "Come on sweetheart, you can do whatever you want with it, don't give it back to me."

"I don't want it," she reiterated emphatically and shoved it at him again.

He still didn't take the necklace back, just looked at her coyly, like he was enjoying the rise he got out of her. "Am I wearing you down, Alex?" he asked knowingly.

She flung the necklace sideways, voice rising an octave. "You're pissing me off!"

He grinned. "God, you're so cute when you're mad."

She gave him an exasperated expression and then silently turned to walk out of the room. He watched her go, not bothering to even try and be appropriate, a smile tugging on his lips.

For Glen Ward it was kind of hot actually how one minute she acted like she couldn't stand him—then he'd catch her looking at him sidelong like she was thinking about wanting him and fighting with herself over it. Glen enjoyed a little game of cat and mouse as much as any red-blooded guy did, but… he was getting close to feeling almost impatient.

He wondered if she was a lights off or lights on kind of girl. Well, he'd find out soon enough. He smiled to himself.

---

Heaven

It was all violence and chaos and disorder, endless conflict, death. Castiel was wearied down to his core and ready for it all to be over—however, no end seemed to be on the horizon, and the realization that everything had changed forever burdened him, wore him down. Heaven was eroding; it was a mere echoing impression of what it had been before. Cracked and crumbling, the days in Paradise bled into each other. The battles dragged on for what seemed an eternity and just as soon as one skirmish ended, another broke out. It effectively trapped Castiel in Heaven, crushing him underneath the weight of the duties he'd chained himself to the day he declared open war. But that particular day there finally seemed to be a lull and Cas called his lieutenant the instant he realized he had been given an opportunity.

Rachel appeared before him. She, like him, looked wearied and worn. "You called me?"

"Yes," Cas replied shortly. He didn't have much time and he was close to desperate. "I need to return to earth briefly."

Rachel's expression changed and she tilted her head to the side, becoming perplexed and dubious. "...Why? I thought you said it was too dangerous to see her right now."

She raised a good point and Castiel conceded it without question. "It is, but…" he trailed off heavily, losing his certainty as he descended into deep thought. There was an instinct, a gut feeling that he had to see Alex, and now. "I have no choice. I can't explain. I have a sensation of…" his frown deepened measurably, "...foreboding." Rachel only looked more confused and then mildly disagreeable. Castiel paid it no mind. "I have to go. Not for long. But in my absence, I'm leaving you in command." He turned to leave but Rachel stopped him, taking hold of his arm. He down looked at her hand oddly, then back into her face, bemused—she was going to question an order?

"Castiel… brother." She studied him carefully and let go of him. He could see that she was upset and perplexed. "You can't leave us now. You shouldn't be leaving at all." She paused and frowned at him, first giving the appearance of concern, then of rebuke. "You've been unfocused... distracted... making mistakes." A pointed pause and look. "Since the last time you went to earth." Her words struck guilt into Cas's conscience—he knew she was right. Rachel saw him falter and pressed. "I can't help but draw the conclusion that this dalliance of yours is harming you and threatening the outcome of this war."

Bristling at the audacious comment and what it implied about Alex, Cas withdrew from his sister-in-arms and set her with a cold stare that was bordering on a glare. Whatever guilt he'd experienced was gone in the place of animosity. "I don't expect you to understand this, Rachel," he said churlishly. "I only expect you to do what I tell you." Again, he turned to go.

And again, her voice stopped him. She was louder this time, a little more urgent and assertive. "I've read the celestial commandments, Castiel. In depth. Perhaps you should, too." Her voice rose in pitch a little. "Do you even know what your actions have cost? What you've set into motion?"

Castiel turned and looked at her sharply, suspicious. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

Rachel raised her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly. "I went to the throne room and read the commandments at length, something you should have done, I think, a long time ago." There was abruptly a certain note of haughty warning in her voice. "You should count yourself fortunate at how Heaven is in disarray. Under the old regime... you would have been cast out like Lucifer for what you've done with her." Castiel looked at her with mounting trepidation—he wasn't sure what she was getting at, but again, a strange gut instinct came over him. An instinct of dread. Rachel was lecturing him at this point: "If an angel should fall to a human and sin with them—sexually—" she said that word with a clear tone of disgust—"it results in eternal damnation of the human's soul and exile for the angel. Both are cast out of Heaven, forever."

Eternal damnation? Castiel faltered. No—he had never heard that before—that couldn't be true...! Shock and dread surged through him, panic rose at the blindsiding thought that maybe the one he loved had no Heaven because of him—because of what he'd done with her. He could have fallen down from the amount of sheer horror crashing over him—and all he could think was that he would never have touched Alex even once if he'd thought she would pay the price of his transgressions. Similarly horrifying, the thought that it was much too late, that he couldn't take back what they'd done together. His mind seemed to whirl around inside itself, a tornado of alarmed thoughts, of stumbling half-ideas of how to fix this, and then after that was the question of could he fix this? How could he save her from what he'd done? He didn't know, but he had to find a way, had to. Wasn't it enough that he had caused her to spend most of her life mute? Now he found out that he was the cause of her eternal damnation? All of that and the memory of seeing himself killing her in the year 2013 utterly destroyed him internally. He was a curse, an obscenity, a fool—

Oblivious to his absolute dismay, Rachel fixed him with a imperious look. "Is that why you're fighting this war?" she asked, assuming the opposite of what was true, interrupting his dread-filled thoughts. "To save yourself from exile, Castiel?"

He bristled anew, angry at levels he didn't even know possible. "I'm fighting this war—" he said loudly, then stopped short. He almost said because I need to save her. He caught himself, though. "Because Raphael must be defeated and the apocalypse must not happen."

Rachel took in a deep breath, measuring herself as she looked around at the Heaven surrounding them—a playground—and then back to him. "Yes. That's what you keep saying." She implied what was true: that Cas was hedging, not being totally honest about his motivations.

He looked at her silently, jaw gritted, heart pounding uncomfortably fast as he struggled to comprehend and process what she'd told him about the celestial commandments and the punishments that were on his and Alex's shoulders. He didn't care about the fate that awaited him—let Heaven cast him down—but knowing he had caused his Alex never-ending condemnation was the most despicable feeling he had ever experienced. More than ever, he needed to find Joshua and try to speak with God, more than ever he needed to—augh!—he and Rachel both winced in unison as a loud voice called to both of them specifically—Ezekiel, a foot soldier, urging them to come quickly. No, Castiel thought despondently, knowing what the call meant. That he was needed, yet again, that another battle was about to begin. Rachel looked at him as if she were half-sympathetic, half-triumphant.

"See?" She asked softly. "You can't leave now—you can't leave until this war is won. Your place is here—God chose you for this. You're our commander—not me—you have to lead us and remain focused on our mission. You have to stop allowing this little affair of yours get in the way. You're an angel. You always will be. And your loyalty is to us."

Her words touched a nerve he hadn't even known to exist. "My loyalty is mine to decide," Castiel snapped, emotions raging. Rachel seemed surprised at his impassioned reaction. "That's what we're fighting for," he reminded her. "Freedom from the old ways." His voice was gruff with barely-withheld hostility—because to him, in that moment, Rachel was the one holding him back from Alex. That and he was so angry, so filled with abhorrence for himself and his mistakes, that the only tone of voice he could summon was baleful, the only thing he could feel was fury with himself and despair at what he had learned that day.

Rachel looked at him long and hard. "As true as that may be… that we're fighting for a new order in Heaven and for freedom… some things stand forever, Castiel." She almost seemed to pity him. "Do you really think you can change what God has written into the fabric of eternity?"

Castiel's reaction was not what she had expected. "If I have to," he snapped, "I will." He met her surprised eyes with a deadly glare. "If he objects, let God try to stop me." His eyes narrowed deeply, his jaw tightened. "No one else will—and even our father himself might not succeed." He turned away brusquely to leave.

Rachel's face was filled with disillusion and horror. "Castiel—you're close to blasphemy… this girl you're so consumed by isn't more important than the fate of the whole world!"

Castiel looked back at her unwaveringly, his face stormy and his voice trembling with dark fury. "She is to me."

And without a further word he disappeared from there, answering Ezekiel's call, his various angers and fears driving him to fight with more brutality than normal... the harrowing thought that he was the cause of everything that would destroy the woman he loved refusing to leave his mind even for a single second.