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.

53. Skeletons

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 53 / Skeletons

"Rescue me from me... and all that I believe."
- Smashing Pumpkins

---

Castiel ascended the celestial heights, slipping through the dimensions to leave earth behind. The Heaven he arrived to was a tranquil scene: nestled in prairie land, a little cottage overlooked a small pond. Autumn burnt the clustered trees alongside the water's edge into brilliant yellowy orange. The pond was a mirror, reflecting the stunning blue sky. A wooden dock stretched out several feet over the water, and at the end of it an elderly couple stood next to one another holding hands. They were unaware of the angel's presence.

He'd arrived to a Heaven that belonged to soulmates. These were the rarest Heavens of all. He was stirred—reverent of this and of them, the two souls who had created this place together. He saw how the shorter of the two men laid his head contentedly onto the taller man's shoulder. How wonderful it was that these two people—meant for each other, intertwined at the soul level—could remain together even in the life beyond life. Cas wondered: had he been born on earth instead of created in Heaven… would he have been her soul mate? He thought of soft hazel eyes and freckles scattered across fair skin. He thought of the sound of her voice and the privilege of her smile directed at him. And then he thought of how he hadn't seen that smile in so long. And with rapidly increasing anger, he remembered why he'd come back to Heaven in the first place.

As if on cue, Castiel realized another angel had arrived. He immediately turned around, reaching for his blade. When he saw who it was, he had to stifle his true reaction of contempt. He let his hand fall and did not draw his blade. "Hello Rachel." His greeting was neutral and he watched her hawkishly. She was the reason he'd returned to Heaven.

"Castiel," Rachel returned. She stood just a few feet away and she was difficult to read. Mildly perturbed, maybe. Suspicious, certainly. "Where have you been? We've been calling you."

"Yes. I know," he said brusquely, giving away nothing with his tone or demeanor. "I've been busy, and I still am."

Her features twisted into mistrustful confusion. "What do you mean?"

Cas stepped closer to her, narrowing his eyes. "I came here to tell you that my presence is required on earth for some time." He paused, noting the distinct note of distaste that ran across his angel sister's face. "I'm leaving Ezekiel in charge in my absence."

Her mouth dropped open. "You can't be seri—Ezekiel is just a foot soldier!"

Cas was diplomatic in the face of her outburst. "He's proven himself loyal."

Rachel was absolutely scandalized. "And I haven't?"

"Hm," Castiel feigned thoughtfulness, even though inwardly he was thinking of her lies and betrayal. "I suppose you have." And here was the trap he laid for her, the test. With utmost convincing emotion, he smiled a little as if grateful. "I wanted to thank you, Rachel, for traveling to earth and delivering my message to Alex all those months ago."

He studied her reaction, thinking perhaps he saw the briefest glance of guilt in her features. But instead of confessing her sins—which would have been the correct action to take—out of her mouth came more untruths. "Of course, Castiel," she said, putting on a gracious smile that was insulting. "I was happy to do so."

Without any warning, Castiel grabbed Rachel by the collar with two hands and smashed her into the side of the cottage. "Lies!" he snarled furiously. She was shocked and wide-eyed, realizing she'd been discovered. "I know you never gave her my message," he seethed. "And then you had the audacity to lie to my face and falsify a return message?" He was so angry he could have killed Rachel on the spot. "Give me one reason I shouldn't demote you or worse right here and now."

Rachel was stiff and frozen in his vice-like grip, completely unprepared for his assault and demands. Fumbling, she tried to answer. "I-I saw her drinking the blood of demons, Castiel, she's an abomination, I only wanted—" she clearly recognized how that had been the wrong thing to say when Cas's face darkened in growing fury. Scrambling for a way to placate him, Rachel's voice rose in something close to panic. "I only wanted to safeguard you, keep you focused!"

She was pulled out of the side of the cottage and slammed back in with brutal force. "It wasn't your place," Castiel spat, only growing angrier with himself when he realized how the trust he'd placed so readily in his sister had been his biggest mistake in a very long time. How this was truly his fault for not being wiser. Great helplessness grew inside. Castiel was dismayed at how she could have done this. He begged her to help him understand, to make her motivations clear. "You lied to me, knowing that it would keep me from her—why?" She said nothing for a long moment and Castiel mourned what Rachel had done. "Why? I am her protector," he said, great sadness drenching his words. The irony was not lost on him: he was Alex's protector, yet had failed to do that very thing.

"And I am your protector!" Rachel retorted much to Cas's confusion. "If I don't protect you from your own foolishness, who will?!" She seemed so genuine that Cas was momentarily taken aback, losing his grip on her. Rachel's tone became pleading. "She's broken you, Castiel. I don't recognize who you've become."

Cas said nothing for a long moment, merely staring at her in renewed scorn, not even fully hearing the insults she lodged against him... only the confirmation that she had done it intentionally. There was no explanation that would exonerate her from guilt, she displayed no remorse whatsoever for her actions. With a mighty shove Cas let her go and stepped back, not letting her out from under his glare. "I could say the same for you," he accused, utterly despising what his sister had done. Rachel knew what Alex meant to him. He had trusted her and been burned—but his wounds were nothing compared to what had happened to Alex. "The things you set into motion by not telling me—you've done the unforgivable."

"To keep you safe; to keep all of us safe," Rachel insisted tremulously. Castiel was astonished all over again. How could she think that? He shook his head as he gritted his teeth together harder. She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't care like he did, in fact, it seemed like she didn't care at all. It broke something in him. Rachel became apologetic and looked down, her features becoming confused. "I knew you would leave us if you knew what she was doing, Castiel; I knew you would go to her when you were needed here. I know you care about her, brother. But… we're fighting a war. And you're our leader. You can't have divided interests or we will not win." She saw how his expression was souring again. "Castiel, please—I didn't mean to cause harm," she insisted pleadingly. "You came back and told us we were free to make our own choices. And that was the first choice I ever made. To lie to you. I... I've never had this freedom before, and it seemed right to me, Castiel. I swear to you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I made a choice. A wrong one, I see that it must have been wrong, now." She silently implored. "Forgive me, brother."

"I will not forgive you," was the immediate, hostile answer. He didn't care about her excuses or reasons. No matter how sorry Rachel might truly be, she had still done what she'd done. And there was no taking it back, no explaining it away. The reality remained: Alex had spent a year not knowing where he'd gone, assuming him dead or worse. She had been lonely and afraid and physically dependent on demon blood. Then violated with no one to defend her but herself. Refreshing these things in his mind made him feel murderous.

He thought of his dwindling forces here in Heaven and his desperation to win this war. He had to end it at all costs—and he was loathe to admit this even to himself, but Rachel needed to remain on his side. He needed her as an ally, no matter how much he now detested her. He didn't like this at all. But it was strategy and necessity that drove him to the decision—he couldn't afford to lose such a dedicated warrior. So he regarded her with utmost deadly seriousness. "I will grant you exception this one time." He raised his chin to look at her bitterly. He cursed himself for ever trusting her. It had cost him too much. It had cost Alex too much. And he wouldn't make the same mistake again. "But there will be no more chances for you, Rachel," he said flatly. "And I will never trust you like I once did."

Without anything further, he turned his back on her and left.

---

Five Days Later

Alex was someplace dark and shadowy. She couldn't make out any real shape or structure, and the effect was completely disorienting. There was a general feeling of physical illness, a hollow sensation. Like an itch she couldn't scratch. She was very aware that she felt uncomfortable in her own skin, like she needed something really badly. What, food? Water? Also, where the hell was she, anyway? She looked down, raising her shaking palms up to inspect them. She could barely see, but her skin seemed dirty and pale gray. Something was wrong here.

"Well, hello..." came a smooth voice somewhere nearby and she whirled, finding herself face to face with Lucifer in the rotting vessel of Nick. Holy shit! Plunged deep into ice-cold fear, she backed up... or tried to. But she was stuck.

"Get away from me," she ordered tremblingly, trying not to give away how afraid she was. Weapon. Did she have a weapon? She felt around for one and realized she was completely unarmed. Panic surged. How was he here?! He was supposed to be in the cage!

"Get away from you?" Lucifer repeated innocently, doing just the opposite and edging closer instead. "But Alex, how?" He feigned confusion. "I'm… inside of you. Your head. Your mind." Oh. Oh no. He smiled a little and his peeling, gruesome features made it a sickening display. "I like it in here. A little cluttered, a little paranoid, lots of issues, lots of self-flagellation... you're my kind of gal." He chuckled and came closer, patting her face with his cold, heavy hand. She flinched away from his touch, unable to move or run away… and the realization that she couldn't do either made her even more scared. What is happening? Is this another dream? Lucifer started to pace leisurely in front of her. "Come on, Al... don't act like this is the first time we've... hooked up." He shot her a playful look and a coy eyebrow raise. "I recall lots of late night visits this past year… well." He shrugged thoughtfully. "On those nights you actually managed to fall asleep, anyway." A low, dark chuckle, and those dead eyes flashed ominously. "Insomnia's a real bitch, isn't it?"

Alex shrank away, or tried to. "I said, get away!" she shouted with increased volume, like if she said it louder it would work better. Wake up, she told herself, wake up! This was just another dream of the devil, like the others she'd been plagued by since Sam died. "You're not real!"

An amused laugh. "You're not real!" Lucifer mocked jovially, then gave a playfully irritated sigh. "Oh come on, lighten up will ya?" He paused and tapped a thoughtful finger to his chin. "Maybe it'd make you more comfortable if I looked like someone less… Nick?" His features distorted and he was suddenly Sam. Alex's anger faded into breathless horror. "Hiya, sis," Sam's familiar voice said, low and smooth as polished marble. He was smiling, but it wasn't friendly. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Stop it, just stop!" Alex shouted, twisting against ropes that suddenly bound her in place. She struggled hard, feeling her throat close in panic. Let me out—let me out!

"But I'm just warming up," Sam said, only it was Lucifer speaking, and it was obvious from the cadence he used, the coldness in his eyes. "Come on, Alexandra. Get over it. Stop being a drama queen," he said, rolling his eyes at her. When she looked at him wrathfully, Lucifer shrugged his mouth downwards thoughtfully. "Hm. You must really regret our little deal, huh?" He sighed, pretended to be apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're such an idiot." A huge grin broke Sam's face—dimples and everything. He laughed, a sound that was profane because it belonged to Sam, not Lucifer. "Actually… I'm not sorry, not really," he said, wincing with mock apology. "I mean, it got me Sam, didn't it? Ah, you shoulda seen the look on your brothers faces when they realized what I did to you, what you agreed to…" he trailed off, becoming overly thoughtful. "Oh wait. You did."

Another huge grin and self-satisfied laugh. He sauntered closer. "And hey, the way Sam is now? That's your fault. You get that, right? Hell stripped away everything Sam ever was. Burned away the Sam you loved. All thanks to you." His eyes—the same color as hers—were cold and dead, soulless. "Everyone you love burns in the end, don't they?" Lucifer taunted in a whisper that made her skin crawl. He reached over and stroked her hair with great interest.

Alex squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing in disgust. "Not real, he's not real, you're not real," she whispered over and over, trying not to gag on her racing heartbeat. Things were wobbling and uneven but she felt Lucifer withdraw and retreat a few steps backward. A small relief. Go away, just wake up, it's okay, it's not real.

"Oh, I'm real," came a male voice that wasn't Sam's. Alex's eyes popped open because she was more scared of it than maybe any other voice she could think of.

A tall blond man stood there and smirked down at her. Terror shot through Alex's veins, she immediately struggled away. But she was still stuck in place and her fighting was in vain. "Don't be scared, baby," Glen said softly, approaching slowly, and each step made her even more afraid. "It's me. I'm gonna take good care of you… you know I will." He stroked the side of her face with his fingers and she shuddered noisily, a sound of terror broke out of her mouth and he just chuckled softly, as if she were cute when she was petrified.

"Stop—" she choked, then found a stronger, louder voice. "Dean! Cas!" She called out with growing alarm because maybe this wasn't a dream. Maybe this was real. "Someone help me!"

Glen's sandy eyebrows shot up high in surprise, then angry disbelief came over his plain features. "You think they're gonna help you?" He grabbed her and threw her down onto her back, standing over her like a giant. She backpedaled fast on her elbows and found herself trapped against a cold, hard wall. "Wow. You're stupider than I thought, bitch," Glen said as if remarking on the weather, following her leisurely. "Dean doesn't love you; Cas doesn't love you. Why would either of them, huh?" He crouched down at her level and she was so afraid of him that she couldn't move one bit. "You're a disappointment at every turn," he spat. "Weak. Why would they come when you call? You're not worth saving." He picked her up by her collar and he stood with super human strength, smashing her back-first into the wall and she cried out in pain, trying to fight, but her body refused to cooperate. "No one will ever want you again, you get that right?" Glen asked in a low, vile whisper. He suddenly morphed, and a new man now looked at Alex. "Especially me."

Alex's eyes widened in shock and horror. She ceased fighting. "Cas?!" She gasped out, shocked to be face to face with the one she loved, shocked at the look he was giving her. In his eyes, nothing but pure contempt. He hated her and it was obvious—and Alex was ashamed, confused, hurt. She'd known he would despise her, so why was she so stunned to see evidence of it? His hand tightened on her painfully.

"I leave you for a year—only a year—and you betray me?" He asked in the familiar gruff voice—only it was filled with disdain. "You let another man touch you? You let another man kiss you?" She withered away, eyes were filling with stinging tears. Yes, to both questions. Her heart was beating so hard and fast she thought she was doing to have a stroke, but Cas didn't look concerned. "I thought I loved you," he said sneeringly, tightening his grip on her collar painfully. "But I don't." He yanked her sideways and threw her down to the ground without warning, letting her land hard on her stomach and palms. She was crying now—his words and actions were knives cutting her apart.

"I'm sorry, please believe me, I'm sorry—" she choked out raspingly, looking back up over her shoulder at him and barely managing to. She felt lower than low, and the furious way he stared down at her didn't do anything but make her feel even further down.

"You are sorry," he agreed derisively, slowly circling her and coming to stand in front of her, his shoes almost in her face. "And selfish and pathetic. Human, below me. I never loved you, how could I have? You're a monster, an adulteress, an addict," he growled, each title hitting her where it hurt and she tried to cover her ears because his words literally seemed to be killing her. But nothing could block the stinging accusations he was hurling down. "You took what we had and ruined it, you took what I promised you and acted like it was yesterday's garbage, like I meant nothing to you—you should have waited for me, you should have believed in me, you friggin' idiot!" Those last three words rang in a higher pitched voice, Cas's face and body changed—and Alex was now staring up at herself. Only she was bruised and battered and had demonic eyes black as night.

"Look at yourself, Alex! Look!" Black-eyed Alex ranted disdainfully. "You deserve this. You're nothing. You're no one. They all left you, do you think they were trying to tell you something? Cuz I do! You had the right idea, going off that whole year on your own—no one wants you." She scoffed and kicked Alex in the arm when she tried to push herself up to stand. "Stay down, bitch," black-eyed Alex hissed, then began to pace around Alex slowly. "Dean doesn't need you ruining his life more than you already have; I mean, have you thought about it? If he hadn't been stuck with your useless ass all those years? He could have been out there living his life. You're nothing but a burden. You should have never been born." There was a scornful little laugh. "No wonder Daddy wanted to give you away… no wonder Sammy left and is acting the way he is now… he doesn't care. He can't pretend he does anymore." There was a cold smirk. "I wonder how much longer Dean can keep the act up, don't you?" She paused and there was no smile on her face anymore. "No one loves you. Not even you love you."

Alex watched the black-eyed version of herself crouch down in front of herself. There were big hand prints marring her, hickeys on her neck. Alex felt herself being grabbed by the hair at the top of her head, and black-eyed Alex's face was right in hers. "And Cas. Don't even get me started on that, on him. Were you lying to his face when you made vows?" Alex felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "You can't take things like that back!" Black-eyed Alex screamed with sudden passion then backhanded Alex across the face. The pain exploded, blinding Alex temporarily. It felt like her jaw was broken—she clutched her face and rolled sideways from the force of impact, stunned. Black-eyed Alex stared down without remorse as Alex cowered, sobbing from pain and anguish. "And here you were this whole year, acting like what you and he were was nothing, like you could just decide to take it all back," Alex snarled contemptuously, her features twisted in disgust. Every word was sending Alex hurtling toward the ledge of total insanity. "And you claim that you love him. Please."

Something inside snapped in half. "I thought he was dead!" Alex screamed, pushing herself up and trying to attack her assailant. She rushed at the black-eyed bitch, attempting a tackle, but it was like nothing and no one was there, she pitched forward into empty air and fell down onto all fours clumsily.

"You liar," came her voice from behind Alex. A steely boot tip crashed into her ribcage and Alex cried out in pain, unable to get up. "Liar! LIAR!" The accusations kept coming and so did the painful kicks.

Managing to stand somehow, Alex whirled and let a wild, uncontrolled punch fly in the general direction of her attacker. "I'm not a liar!" she shrieked, her fist sailing through empty air and sending her staggering sideways but she recovered just before she fell. "You don't know what I went through!" she insisted tearfully to no one, hysterical at this point.

She was grabbed roughly from behind and felt a knife at her back. "I know exactly what you went through," she heard herself say in a low, angry voice. "I'm YOU! I know every self-centered, stupid thought in your egotistical little head. And you don't deserve him!" A violent shove sent Alex flying into the darkness—she tripped and fell face-first, making contact with the ground painfully, jaw-fist. She tasted blood in her mouth and groaned. Just let it be over—all of it—please. Enough!

"You know who you do deserve?" Alex's voice asked.

She felt herself being grabbed by the hair and being yanked up then thrown down onto her stomach, being pinned down from the back, and it was Glen's voice in her ear again. "Look what you're making me do, look what you've done!" He accused. She felt a jarring blow to the back of her head and she cried, sobbed, protesting with great sounds of pain as she fought against his heavy weight. She thought she heard someone ask her name faintly. "Alex?" And then a very loud: "You fucking bitch!"

"Let go, let me go!" She shrieked, only to be hit again. "Stop! Please stop, just sto-ooop!"

"Hold still," he commanded in a hiss.

Then she heard someone asking her name again: "Alex?"

Glen was yanking on her, she was struggling. "It'll be over soon," he growled, "Hold still!" She refused to.

Somewhere nearby, that same voice she recognized but couldn't place: "Alex, wake up—wake up!"

She flailed, eyes snapping open—had they been shut? There were several things she realized all at once: Someone was touching her arms, she was laying down on a softish surface, and she was in danger. She didn't even bother getting her bearings, she was blinded by panic, by the thought of it being Glen holding her down. "Get away! Don't touch me!" She screamed, rolling off of the soft surface, her chest stinging with breathless alarm. She fell away, tumbling to the ground painfully, surprised at the shockwave of pain it sent through her when she collided shoulder-first. Scrambling to get away, she ignored the pain and pushed herself up and ran for the door—it was locked and she whirled, scared as hell. Cas stood there at the opposite end of the small room. Not pursuing her or looking at her with hatred. Instead, holding a hand out slightly, as if to try and tell her to calm down and take a second.

"Get back, get away from me!" She warned in a breathless and hysterical voice—and she let her eyes dart around in a frantic search for a weapon. Cas moved toward her fractionally and the movement caught her attention, she shrank against the door behind herself, feeling renewed with frantic alarm. Oh god, what now? What would he say and do to her? Was he going to tell her more about how she'd let him down in every way? "Just stay away, please, stay away," she begged, wincing as if she was about to be struck.

His face was filled with worry and he stopped—remaining about five feet away. Alex frowned in confusion because… this seemed different. He wasn't going to berate her? Rake her over the coals?

She looked at him in growing puzzlement, seeing how his features were filled with worry and sadness. "Alex. It's me," he said. "You're in the panic room. You've been hallucinating."

What? With a hammering heart, Alex looked around, trying to figure out what was real. The panic room. Yes. Like he said, this was the panic room. But... why? And why was it such a wreck? It looked like there had been some kind of huge fight here. She saw the old desk knocked over onto its side, the things that had been on its surface scattered. The cot was a mess, the pillow was halfway across the room and ripped partly. The gun shelves were bare, like all the weapons had been moved out of the room. Some supplies had been smashed and scattered on the floor, knocked off the metal shelves that stood near the desk—it looked like a storm had blown through here. Wait. Had… had that storm been her? She looked at her palms again—they trembled badly, like she was hungry or weak or… going through withdrawals. Oh god. Alex looked at Cas again, feeling shock run over her like cold water. What was happening? Even as she wondered that, she realized how physically weak she felt. How long had it been since she'd eaten? Her legs buckled a little and she slackened, unable to stand on her own. She used the solid metal door behind her to break what would have been a fall—and Cas was there with her before she hit the ground, helping her into an awkward sitting position leaned against the wall. His touch was warm and gentle and she was woozy. "Hallucinating?" she asked sluggishly. "I've been hallucinating?"

"Yes," Cas confirmed ruefully. Crouched in front of her, he was quiet for a couple of beats. She couldn't understand why he was looking at her with so much barely concealed distress and concern. Or how he was even there at all. "You have been for a few days now."

"A few days now?" she repeated, confused and scared, because she literally could not remember anything with real clarity except what she'd just hallucinated. She felt awful, physically sick like from the flu. But a lot, lot worse. Her arms weakly went around herself in an attempt to feel better against the aching chills she was becoming aware of. Wait a minute. Alex looked at Cas, then around, as if she'd missed someone in her previous sweep of the room. "W-where's Dean?" He would be here if something was wrong with her, right? Where was he?

Cas's expression faltered. "Not here," he said reluctantly, and Alex thought she'd misheard. Before she could ask, Castiel volunteered the information. "He and Sam are on a hunt."

"A hunt?" she repeated numbly. "They left me? Dean left me?" Devastated, she blinked twice, not understanding. "But…" she trailed off. It felt to Alex like she was six years old again and wanting the comfort of her big brother, needing it more than anything else. "Why? He never leaves me…" she trailed off, remembering that wasn't true. Mortified and dazed, Alex looked down, a hand covering her forehead and eyes. Maybe this was more hallucinating. Maybe this was Hell. Was she dead?

"Do you know why you're here?" Cas asked her in a hushed, serious voice. "In the panic room, with me?"

He sounded like a doctor talking to a patient and gently trying to break the news that she had cancer—she thought hard, because she knew the answer to his question—she knew she knew the answer, but… nothing came to mind. She buried her face in her hands, lost and stressed. Why was Cas even here? When had he come back? Hadn't he been gone for a really, really long time? She remembered but didn't, and it was maddening, frightening. "God, Cas—I feel… I can't remember anything," she confessed, even more scared than before, her theory on this being Hell becoming more and more viable. "My brain feels like scrambled eggs." She let her hands drop and tried as hard as she could to remember something—anything—about why she was here. And then, like a lightning bolt, it hit her. She remembered. And she almost wished she hadn't. But at least this meant she wasn't dead and in hell. Slowly, she met Cas's waiting gaze. "The demon blood."

"Yes," Cas confirmed. Alex's horrified mind was sent to spinning—so this was real. How long had she been here? Where were her brothers? Where was Bobby? Had she been acting insane this whole time, or was this the first time she'd been conscious? Did Cas despise her like she suspected he must? She tried to escape the questions by getting up. A very sad attempt as her muscles were uncoordinated and her body was weak. Cas stood with her, a hand on her arm and she angrily batted him away, trying to do it herself and get out from under his gaze that saw everything. Helplessness anger was beginning to churn below her surface, as well as the desire for a very foul, abominable liquid.

"You and Dean tricked me," she growled, turned halfway to face the other direction. Her arms wrapped around her middle and her stomach boiled as she remembered more and more details. "Into coming here."

"We did," he replied truthfully and readily. His tone was soft, as if he were trying to be gentle with her. And it pissed her off. "I'm sorry for the deception." He sounded truly apologetic. "But would you have come freely, had I told you the plan?"

"No, of course not," she snapped, gritting her teeth together, realizing she felt so terrible because of how bad she needed a fix. "Dammit, Cas. I need more! Shit." She stumbled and leaned heavily against the cold metal wall beside herself. She was sick, bad, and all it would take was a little drink to make her feel better...

"My advice to you is that you try not to think of that," he said wearily. He got a dirty look for his unsolicited feedback.

"Yeah, thanks," she muttered sarcastically, hating everything; becoming completely focused on the thought of blood, blood, blood. Her stomach abruptly growled insanely loudly as a hunger pang shot through her.

Cas heard it, frowning slightly. "You need to eat something," he said, and gestured to a plastic plate that was on the floor, a fallen-apart sandwich on it. Had she thrown it earlier? "Bobby brought a sandwich for you this morning," Cas explained, crouching and putting the sandwich back together as best as he could. Alex watched, suspicious and mad about everything. Distantly she briefly thought that it was cute to see Cas putting a sandwich together.

Standing, Cas brought the sandwich to her. She looked at it balefully. When she didn't take it, he extended it toward her further. "Eat?" He asked. "Please?"

She was ravenous and he looked very upset that she didn't accept it right away. "Fine," she muttered, snatching it away from him and taking a huge, impolite bite. Even as she chewed, all she could think about was how to get out of here, how to get the jump on Cas and get herself more demon blood. That was all that mattered to her in the entire world… sating the insane need. Castiel watched her sadly and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. She took another huge bite. It had no taste at all.

"You asked about Dean a minute ago," Cas said then sighed quietly, turning and drifting off by a few steps. "He left because… I don't think he could bear the thought of watching this happen to you." He paused and looked at her meaningfully, or at least it seemed meaningful. And the way he said it, she almost thought that's how he must have felt, too. He turned away again, setting his back to her, and Alex put down the sandwich. Her eyes went to the little metal chair that was knocked over just a few feet away. That would make an excellent weapon. She crept closer to it, planning to grab it and hit him over the head and make an escape of some kind… then his voice abruptly stopped her. "Aren't you growing tired of trying to fight me, Alex?" He wasn't even looking at her, and unless he had eyes in the back of his head, she didn't know how he'd seen her.

She'd frozen in her tracks and he turned halfway, looking at her with weary eyes. "I'm sorry but I will not allow you to leave this room until the demon blood is out of your system completely. But if you must keep trying to hurt me… go ahead." He seemed so resigned. "It won't work. I'm an angel." He turned to face her then approached, presenting himself to her almost as if he were inviting an attack. "You can't hurt me, Alex," he said ruefully. "No matter how hard you may try." His words rattled her and she had an odd sense of deja vu. Wordlessly, she stared at him for a long moment. His sad blue eyes held hers and seemed like an anchor, pulling her back to a shore she'd drifted far from. And then he broke the trance and nodded back to her discarded sandwich, his expression tense and distracted. "Now please. Eat more. You need your strength."

Alex took in his downcast face and eyes, feeling an epiphany strike her. Had this happened before, the attempt to escape and knock Cas out? What was happening to her? Trying to attack Cas? Trying to hurt him? This wasn't her—and for a minute, she felt clear-headed, and as a result, horrified. Ashamed. She had never guessed it would get like this, she'd thought she could stop any time, but she'd been fooling herself obviously. "I've been… trying to hurt you?" she asked in a quiet, dismayed murmur. That thought was so awful she could barely bring herself to look at him.

"Repeatedly." He seemed hesitant to look at her and something in her broke at the thought of what had been happening in this room.

Alex felt her eyes stinging, her chest swelling with pain—she stepped backwards, stunned and speechless. When he followed her movement with worry, she couldn't deny it anymore: "I need help," she managed just barely through a throat closing with tears. His eyes softened, and even though they were still filled with pain and grief, she saw empathy and love there when his eyes met hers. "Please help me," she begged, not even sure how he could. She forgot her fears and reservations about him, only remembered that she loved him and trusted him and he always saved her—and she was desperate to be saved—so she pressed herself into him, circling her arms around his middle, holding on for dear life as she buried her face into the front of his shoulder. She cried miserably, and she only cried harder when he accepted her instantly.

"Of course I'll help you," he told her. His emotional and deep voice echoed through her comfortingly. "I will always help you." Words that were like salve on a wound. Her eyes fell shut and for a moment, they were them again. She calmed down, trusting him wholly, allowing herself believe that he could rescue her. Alex let him hold her there in the long-lost but familiar space of his arms where touch transcended words. He hadn't forgotten her or left, he hadn't gone away, he wasn't angry at what she'd done and she was so, so relieved. It felt too good to be true. His hand gently touched the back of her head and he felt so warm, safe, and comforting. A heavy weight lifted and she opened her mouth to tell him how much she missed him, how much she loved him—and then a horrible suspicion came to her and she didn't say anything at all. This couldn't be real. A minute ago, she'd thought this was too good to be true. And in her experience… good things weren't real. So this wasn't real, how could it be? This was another hallucination or trick. It had to be. Cas wouldn't love her, not through this.

"Wait—" she said, stiffening and pulling back. Something wasn't right. He looked disillusioned when she pulled away. "Wait. H-how are you even here with me?" Cas had told her he had to stay away or he risked endangering her, how he'd said he couldn't stay for long when they'd been in Pennsylvania. Guard raising and suspicions flooding her, she stepped back. "Have you been here with me the whole time?" She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I thought… you said the war… and… Raphael.. or…"

"Yes, I did say those things," he said tiredly but patiently. As if he'd explained it before. Maybe he had. She had no memory of it. "I've been here with you for almost five days now." Five days? Her eyebrows rose slowly and she didn't know if she believed him or not. "Raphael's vessel was destroyed, which is why, for the moment… we're safe from him."

When he said that, she recalled Raphael turning to salt as she laid on the floor dying, in pain. Oh yeah. "Huh. Yeah. I remember now..." she said darkly, distracted by feeling that itch again in her veins. She wanted to tear her skin off to make it feel better. She needed some demon blood, and felt herself twitching almost. It was hot in here too. How long had she been sweating like this?

"As far as the war…" Cas trailed off. "I am needed up there. But... I'm needed here, too." He was deeply troubled, but looking at her pointedly. "I've been needed."

Momentarily given pause, Alex realized what he meant and forgot about how sweaty she felt. "You mean me." A question and a statement.

She saw how his muscles worked in his jawline. "Yes."

Guilt and shame washed over her in bucketfuls under his soulful gaze. He seemed to silently be pleading with her—for what? What did he want from her? Why was he even here? Was it a guilt thing? Did he feel bad for being MIA for so long? Or maybe this was him trying to be a good little guardian angel. Either way, she was torn between being amazed that he would stay with her and being angry as hell that he had waited so long to get his ass to her in the first place. Everything was jumbled in her mind. All she knew was that she was angry and hurt and needed a hit soon.

Everything throbbed in continuous pain, she felt dirty and sweaty and cold but hot all at once, wracked by horrible shooting aches in her veins. "I feel so sick," she complained while pushing a hand against her churning stomach. Those couple bites of sandwich were heavy like lead in her belly. "How long will it be like this?" She had a high pain tolerance but this was a lot. A feeling of panic was fighting to overtake her, because this was hell, dead or not, and she didn't want it.

He shook his head slightly, guessing. "A few more days, at least."

A few more days of this? Panic and fear gripped her tight. "I can't," she said, voice rising with alarm even as she backed up, an unconscious reaction to the need to run away from everything inside of herself. "I can't." He made to follow her, opening his mouth to speak but she just shook her head even harder, feeling almost like she couldn't breathe. "Cas, you don't understand," she said angrily. "I can't do this." She needed more blood or she was going to keel over dead, how dare they take away her choice to do whatever the fuck she wanted? How dare he stand by and let her go through this shit?! How could he let her writhe around in pain and hallucinate her worst fears and greatest traumas and be so blasé about it? He didn't understand how hard this was or how bad she needed just a little, just a few drops—

"You can do this," Castiel said. "And I'll be here with you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she snapped, shaking in a cold sweat as she glared. She clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering.

His expression showed mild hurt. "I thought—"

"Oh who cares, Cas," she ranted thoughtlessly, driven to anger by her insane need for a fix. "You know what—you should go up there and fight your little war, leave the girl with the demon blood habit out of it. Don't worry yourself on my account, we all know where that always gets you." She meant it as an insult but abruptly she thought of all the ways he'd been hurt and compromised by trying to protect her and suddenly all she felt was overwhelming, heavy bitter sorrow and she wanted to weep under the weight. What had she done?! She loved him and she'd subjected him to this? "You should hate me," she said, filled with surprise and self-loathing, realizing that was the truth. How selfish she was, how pathetic, how lost. She was a monster. "I should die—why aren't you killing me?"

Her words seemed to devastate and horrify him. "I would never kill you, Alex," he said, coming closer with nothing but anguish and care on his features.

She stepped back in response, baleful and angry again, wishing he'd nut up and finish her off. "Well you should," she raged. "I shouldn't be alive, not like this," she insisted with growing fervor and hysterical emotion. "I—I messed it all up." He didn't know what she'd been through, seen, and done the past year. She didn't want half of it to be real. "This isn't living, my god Cas, what if I never feel normal ever again?" She shook her head, remembering slicing demons open and enjoying it. A sobering thought that made her withdraw. "...What if I always feel like this and never get over it?"

"Alex..." he started but she shook her head, looking around, realizing something.

"There's a demon close by right now, Cas," she said lowly. "I can smell it." And perhaps the saddest thought of all: "I'm something I'd hunt if I weren't me." Castiel looked at her with fully grieved features even as Alex realized: "Wait…" she looked at the closed panic room door. "Why is there a demon nearby?"

Cas looked less than enthused about her question and its answer. "Bobby is… experimenting on it."

"Experimenting?" Alex asked, then let out a sharp little laugh, imagining a variety of silly scenarios. A little punch drunk from lack of real rest, food and sanity, she chuckled. "Don't experiment too much Bobby or you'll end up like me." She laughed at herself, starting to sound loopy and high. "Don't drink the Kool-Aid! Ha, ha-aaa… ahh..." she trailed off, not sure what was so funny. Embarrassed she frowned to herself. She'd seen so many demons in her day, and her bizzaro behavior was currently reminding her of one. "...Am I evil?" She asked softly. Drinking the blood of demons, getting off on violence, craving the next time she could kill a monster… who was she?

"Of course not, Alex," Castiel told her genuinely, giving her a thread of hope to cling to.

"Then what's it make me?" She asked barely above a whisper, desperate for him to tell her something that would alleviate this horrible pain and fear inside.

"Human," he answered with gentle and harrowed honesty. "I don't think any less of you, Alex." The soft words dismayed her instead of comforting her. You should. Her eyes dropped away guiltily under the intensity of his gaze. She was utterly mortified, wondering if he were lying to make her feel better. He had to think less of her… because her behavior was insane. "Why did you begin to drink it?" He inquired gently, and she bristled at the very forward question—she wasn't going to tell him that. "Was it because of Lucifer?" His intuition, right on the money, made her grow even more closed off.

"Ah, seemed like a good idea at the time, Clarence," she muttered tersely, an offhand reference to the angel from that Christmas movie It's a Wonderful Life. The second she said it, she remembered that's what Meg had called him. Great. Now she was talking like demons, too.

Cas must not have remembered Meg's little nickname for him. "Clarence?" he asked, squinting in confusion.

Alex didn't hear his question. All she could think about was needing something to fill this void, satisfy the need that was making her psycho. "I want some now. I'm going crazy," she insisted, stressed to the brim, looking for a way to distract herself or make the clambering feelings of need go away. She looked at Cas again and noticed his gorgeous jawline and wide, smooth pink lips she remembered kissing so long ago. Her eyes wandered downward to the collar of his dress shirt, then lower still… she remembered how he looked underneath all those layers; she remembered his smooth warm naked skin. Her mind called up images of him doing things to her that were very un-angelic. She felt a familiar stirring at the thought of him like that. It had been so, so long. Alex decided that she wanted him in the most basic sense and suddenly that was all she wanted: for him to slam her up against something and screw her until she fainted. The look in her eyes must have changed because his expression flickered with slight confusion. She moved closer to him, slinking almost, full of predatory intent.

"What are you d—" he started.

"Enough bullshit," she whispered gruffly, deciding to take matters into her own hands, "I want you, okay? I need you." She grabbed him and pulled him to her, she reached for his belt and began to unbuckle it with harsh hands.

Cas was taken aback and pulled away when she attempted to kiss him. "Alex, no, not like this—" he protested, stopping her hands. "You're not in your right mind."

"Who cares," she said through gritted teeth, not liking his reaction one bit. He looked at her like he didn't recognize her, but Alex didn't care, she just wanted him to make her feel alive again, she wanted him as close as possible in the dirtiest way, she wanted to scream and make him scream, she wanted to fuck and be fucked. She yanked her wrists back from his gentle hold and ran a hand up his chest across his shirt, let the other one go lower, quite brazenly—he jumped slightly when she grabbed him below the belt.

"Take me, Cas, here and now," she growled, and when he didn't do what she said right away, when he looked like he was going to pull away instead, she got pissed, so pissed she couldn't see straight. "Just put me against this damn wall and fuck me until I can't see straight you bastard!" She screeched—and when he moved away from her to try to reason with her, she didn't give him the chance. Instead she tried to slap him across the face—he caught her wrist easily and Alex realized she had no idea what she was doing, the words she'd screamed at him suddenly registered and she withered away, mortified over the temporary bout of insanity. "I'm sorry, I c-can't think straight, I'm not—this isn't me," she apologized in rising alarm, getting scared all over again because she literally didn't know how to control herself and her mind kept running circles around itself. "This isn't me."

Castiel nodded slightly, sad again. He let go of her wrist. "I know."

Something about the way he was looking at her, how he didn't seem entirely shocked at her behavior made her stop dead. "H-have I been doing this stuff the whole time?" she asked as the dread crept.

His eyes went downward vaguely in thought. "Essentially."

Christ. Alex was taken aback, fearful to know what exactly she'd done these past five days. Attacked him, tried to get him to have angry sex with her, asked him to kill her? He shouldn't have to do this, in fact, she didn't want him to. Not for the first time she thought of how low she must seem to him and she was so afraid he'd never be able to unsee all of this—it was just too much. "I don't want you to see me like this, Cas," she confessed in aghast honesty, walking away and wrapping her arms around herself in the face of more cold chills. Close to collapse or breakdown or maybe a fit of rage, she shook her head fast, trying to clear her mind of the craziness, trying to hang onto herself. "J-just leave me alone." She didn't want to be alone, in fact, the idea killed her inside, but it would be better than this.

"You shouldn't be alone," Cas said, his voice low and soft behind her then dropping to a near-whisper. "...Haven't you been alone long enough?"

His words sliced her open deeply—yes she had been alone long enough but… she shut her eyes tightly, pained at how grieved he sounded over their separation. He was torturing her, he was torturing her. For one, she wanted to cling to that care and love she heard in his voice, she wanted to bury herself in it and in him but… he'd been gone all this time. Where the hell had he been when she'd needed him? It didn't matter, she forgave him and wanted nothing more than to turn around and go to him. Angry with herself and how ready she was to overlook the past, she forced herself to be terse. "Yeah well you shouldn't have to be the one to babysit me," she muttered gruffly, confused with herself even as she said it. What did she want? She'd pined for him every damn minute of every damn day he'd been gone… so was she really going to be a bitch and push him away now that he was finally here?

"I'm not 'babysitting' you," he said, and she heard the hurt in his voice. "I'm caring for you."

"Like you cared for me this past year?" she accused bitterly. She said the words and they were both shocked by them, rendered silent. Alex opened her mouth to apologize… and no words came out. She couldn't say she was sorry. Because in a way, she didn't think she had anything to apologize for. And she owed herself this selfishness, dammit. She didn't care about some crazy war in Heaven she hadn't seen or been affected by, she just wanted Cas all to herself. Or, she had. Now she suddenly didn't know. What she wanted most was some fucking demon blood so her head would work right again.

Unaware of her inner craze, Cas looked at her sadly for a long moment and burdened, Alex just looked down. "Yesterday… when hallucinating…" Cas said falteringly, "you asked me to hold you." Her eyes jumped up to his. He sounded very troubled. "When I did, you screamed. You said you could never be touched again, ever, by anyone." His eyes were ladened with tortured questions and he stepped a little closer, but kept a very careful, respectful distance. His handsome features were twisted up with emotional agony. "How badly did he hurt you, Alex? I have to know."

His question startled her and made her defenses surge. "I don't want to talk about that," she said sharply. He looked as if his worse fears were confirmed and Alex saw what he was thinking and wanted to tell him no, it's not as bad as you think. But she said nothing, just suddenly gritted her teeth against a blistering headache that came out of nowhere. Her blood pounded loudly in her ears and she screwed her eyes shut and bent forward, making a sound of pain. She felt two gentle hands on either of her arms helping her stay standing. How horrible that he could love her despite this, how awful that she would make him go through this with her.

She felt another bout of craziness coming on, of anger and panic and she tried to get rid of him again. "Cas, I'm losing my mind, please," she begged with abrupt despair. "You can't s-see me like this, I don't know what I'm gonna say or do, you gotta leave." She gulped down air and wet her lips, deciding to try and play the sympathy card because she needed blood so bad... "Or just, just let me out and I'll be okay. You want me to feel better, right?" She made her saddest eyes at him, trying to get him to break. "Cas, I only need a little. Just a couple sips, Cas, please. Help me!"

He shook his head slowly and sadly, not budging. "I am helping you."

She saw red. "No you're not!" she shrieked, completely losing all semblance of mental clarity when she realized she was trapped and not going to get any blood. "You fucking asshole!" She kicked the chair beside her then grabbed it and threw it uselessly at the wall with an animalistic sound. "Let me out!" she howled, then took the plastic plate and slammed it into the wall so hard that it shattered, cutting her in the process. "Let me out of here!"

"Alex, please stop," Cas appealed even as she kicked a leg of the turned over desk, trying to break it to use as a weapon. Her hand was bleeding and she didn't seem to notice, she tried to rip the desk apart crazily and uselessly, ignoring him. "If you don't, I have to render you unconscious, and then you hallucinate even worse than before," Cas told her, voice rising slightly. He was trying so, so hard to be reasonable.

"Shut up, shut up! I can't hear myself think!" Alex screeched, her hands on either side of her head. With an abrupt and frustrated cry she collapsed to sit onto the ground, suddenly letting go of the anger and switching to pure grief instead. "I want Dean," she wailed, rocking back and forth in misery. She sounded like a child calling for her mother. "I just want my big brother." She saw her bleeding hand and crumpled anew, beginning to cry so hard that her shoulders shook. Trying to calm her, Cas knelt down to reach out and reassure her, but she swiped a hand out angrily at his attempt. "Why did he leave me?" she asked, anger growing again exponentially. "Why did you leave me? Why does everyone leave?!" She got to her feet lurchingly, leaving Cas to stand and watch her with that deeply sad expression on his face.

"I hate you so much," she said, whirling. Her face was streaked with tears. "You tricked me and I hate you." With a horrible sound of grief and anger, she suddenly lunged at him and tried to shove him but instead fell backwards because he was completely immovable like a wall. He barely caught her and she venomously protested his hold, kicking and screaming, half out of her mind. It got to be too much. And regretfully, Cas pressed two fingers to her forehead, letting her fall into quiet unconsciousness, ending the insanity. As her body went slack, he caught her easily.

The panic room fell into silence once more.

Cas looked at the now still and quiet woman in his arms. He felt heavy in ways that were indescribable. She had been like this for the past five days. In fact… this was improvement. However, watching her go through this was easily the worst form of torture Castiel had ever endured. He carried her limp form to the cot and laid her there with utmost gentleness, sweeping her scattered dark hair back from her face with two fingers. His fingers paused and lingered at her temple. She was so beautiful. And she seemed so broken. His chest ached in that familiar place and the weight he was carrying pressed down on him all over again. Whatever you face, I will face. A promise he'd made to her roughly a year ago. He hadn't kept that promise, and the sorrow was too much to bear. He knelt beside the cot and took her wounded, bloody hand in his. He let healing energy transfer from himself to her—and the cut was gone, the blood just a memory. But it had still happened. Just like everything else he'd walked with her through these past few days—it had all happened, and he couldn't forget it.

He pulled that hand of hers to his lips and pressed a lingering, conflicted kiss to the back of it. He wished he could heal her of demon blood addiction, but it wasn't that simple. There were things not even he could take away or heal. He let go of her hand, realizing that maybe he shouldn't touch her or kiss her like that. He'd done it without thinking, and now he remembered how she had reacted with horror at being touched any small way whatsoever a few times the past several days. The knowledge of why destroyed him. He gently laid her hand down to rest across her own stomach and then he stood.

All year long he'd imagined being with her again. He hadn't imagined this. Castiel walked off a few steps, barely able to look at her, because when he looked at her, he thought about everything that had happened to her. While hallucinating, she'd said the name several times over of the man who violated her: Glen. Always begging him to stop, please. Get away. Murder boiled inside of Castiel's veins at the name. He should have been there. He leaned a forearm into the wall adjacent, bowing his head down and bringing his hand to his forehead. How was he supposed to do this? The pain and dismay was utterly overwhelming.

He couldn't even fathom leaving her again, yet knew the time would come when there would be no choice. The war continued in Heaven without him, and Ezekiel spoke to him through what the Winchesters called 'angel radio' daily. At the back of his mind at all times, he heard the whispers of Heaven, the news of the war. But that war wasn't the one he cared about, even though he knew he should. Right now, on earth, he was fighting a different war, a battle to get Alex back from the clutches of this addiction. He was determined to see her through it, even though he was completely spent emotionally and mentally. No wonder Dean had fled from this. Castiel understood now. Watching this was agony, and he was so helpless. All he could do was remain at her side and support her, stay. It didn't seem like enough. But it was all he could do.

Over the past few days, she'd proclaimed her hatred of him many times over, then quickly thereafter sobbed that she loved him and then she'd beg him not to leave her. Heartsick, Cas tried not to take any of the more negative and hurtful things Alex had said at face value. She wasn't herself right now, and he knew that. Demon blood was a foul and dangerous substance, highly addictive and lethal to most people. It twisted the mind. It perverted the ability to reason clearly. But he felt deserving of her hatred, no matter how genuine it was or not. How could he not have known this was happening to her? He should have sensed it somehow.

He looked back at the cot where Alex remained unmoving—she almost looked like she could have been peacefully sleeping. It was an illusion. Soon she'd begin to mutter and murmur, frown and twitch and whimper as the nightmares began. Sometimes it was a few hours she slept before she began to thrash in hallucinations, sometimes it was ten minutes. When it got severe, he would wake her and they would go through the same dance they just had: She wouldn't remember everything, wouldn't know it was him was at first, would try and attack him, she would break down, refuse to eat… and when she got so violent and belligerent that she was in danger of hurting herself, he'd put her back into sleep. The cycle would repeat until the demon blood had finished exiting her system. A few more days, at least. The thought was exhausting, but mostly because he couldn't bear to see her this way.

The thing he kept wondering was how this had happened to her. She refused to tell him. He assumed the addiction had started when she'd gone to Lucifer and drank demon blood in an attempt to save them all. How he wished she would have told him her thoughts and fears, her idea to go to Lucifer. How he wished she would have trusted him with her reckless plan. He could have saved her. A great guilt covered him, one that was constant and never-ending. He'd made so many mistakes and errors and all he was trying to do was fix it, fix her. But he wondered if in the year he'd been gone, she'd become unfixable. What if he'd lost her in the process of trying to save her? What if the Alex he knew and loved was gone?

She'd asked him to kill her and it wasn't the first time. Each time she'd stunned him with the plea, all he could think of was 2014. That horrible glimpse of a future where he'd done just that—killed her and watched her die in his arms. The anxiety and horror whenever she said those words—"you should just kill me!"—was traumatic at the deepest levels to Castiel. He didn't exactly know why she thought she should be killed. Maybe she wanted to die because she felt guilty. About the things that had happened to her in the year he'd been gone. She shouldn't feel that way. But he knew so little of human emotions… he wasn't sure how to comfort her or soothe her or change her mind. Words and expression didn't come to him with the ease that they did for her and for other humans. He walked across the quiet panic room, his footsteps echoing on the iron floor. The light was dim and cast soft shadows across her. He remembered that brief time he'd been all but human. He'd felt so much closer to her. Bound to her forever. Now… he felt like she was someplace far away where he couldn't reach.

All the things he should have done differently ran through his mind and he marveled at what a mess everything had dissolved into. Heaven, earth, all of it was torn apart. All because of that fateful day in 2007 when he'd been assigned to protect a human named Alex Winchester. In hindsight, it seemed that day spelled disaster for both of them—and not just them, but the entire world. Heaven was right to forbid this kind of relationship, because all this love had done was was to tear things apart. He'd started a war for her, he'd essentially followed in Lucifer's footsteps for her, he'd ripped Paradise asunder and rebelled against everything he'd been created to stand for. All of it in a desperate bid to save her and to find a way for them to be together.

Instead he had cursed her and sealed her eternal fate. But he refused to accept that. Not then and not now—she would not be eternally damned on his account. This war he'd started would be won at any cost, he would defeat Raphael and establish new order in Heaven, he would go to the throne room and change the celestial commandments himself, rip it all to shreds if he had to. To fix this. To fix her and what he had done to her. Briefly, he reflected on how far he'd fallen. The things he was willing to do to protect her were unseemly and blasphemous… working with the King of Hell? Ripping God's laws up? Lying, keeping secrets, killing his fellow angels? He didn't like to think of these things.

He focused on why the end justified the means, and he truly believed that he wasn't in the wrong for what he was doing and planning to do. Nothing else mattered except fixing what he had broken. Despite it all, he couldn't bring himself to regret her. She gave meaning where there had been none and had created new life in him. He loved her in a way that would never end.

Alex suddenly made a soft little sound and distress flitted across her sleeping features for just a moment and she moved slightly, jumping in her sleep. It was starting. Castiel prepared himself for another heartbreaking encounter. He went to her side and knelt there, a hand on either of her arms to protect her from hitting herself. She would begin to thrash soon.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve this.

---

The phone rang loudly in Bobby Singer's kitchen, twice. "Yeah," Bobby answered tersely. He cradled the oversized cordless phone between his shoulder and face as he returned to his work at the stove.

"Hey, it's me," came Dean's familiar voice on the other end.

"Well, imagine that," Bobby muttered as he flipped a fried egg with his free hand. It sizzled and hissed in the pan.

"Yeah, imagine that," Dean returned, trying to sound upbeat with a short chuckle. He hesitated, then the worry came through in his voice. "So, uh, any updates? She doing okay?"

Bobby set down the spatula and leaned against the counter with one hand. "Dean—like I told ya last time you called, what, a couple hours ago? Same. She's fine as she can be given the circumstances. Alive, workin' through it." There was a heavy, stressed out sigh at the other end of the line and Bobby shifted the phone to his other ear. He was a little annoyed. Dean kept calling at the most inconvenient times. "Just like the other million times you've called, I got nothin' new to add," Bobby said, then softened a little, realizing he shouldn't be so hard on the kid—he just got a little crotchety sometimes when people badgered him. "Look, I know you're worried," he said. "We all are. But either be there or be here, Dean. S'all I'm sayin'."

There was a pause. "That's just it. I shouldn't have left, Bobby," he said, sounding completely guilt-ridden. "I should be there. This job is taking too long, and Sam could have handled it on his own, anyway."

"Sam could have handled a Lamia on his own...?" Bobby repeated incredulously. Dean had to be shitting him.

Dean gave another frustrated sigh. "Well yeah, no, I guess not but—you know what I mean, Bobby!" The oldest Winchester made an impatient sound and Bobby could just see his angry, confounded expression. Bobby rolled his eyes at the familiar and slightly disrespectful dramatics. He flipped his egg once more. He liked them cooked well. Burnt, even. "Sorry," Dean said, calmer and refocusing. "That reminds me. Did you find out the best way to kill it?"

"Yup, silver knife blessed by a holy man." Bobby slid his egg off the pan and onto the waiting plate.

"Right, okay," Dean said. He went quiet but said nothing else—like he was done talking but didn't want to hang up.

Bobby paused, listening for three seconds. "Dean…?"

"Yeah?"

Using his best fatherly tone, Bobby was patient and kind but firm. "You boys take care of the Lamia and then you call me. And I'll call you if anything changes with Alex. I haven't forgotten how to dial out, in case you're worried."

Another short pause. "Yeah, all right. Thanks Bobby." And he hung up.

Bobby hung up too, tossing the cordless phone down with a sigh. Things just always had a way of going bad to worse around these parts. In Bobby's basement there were currently two problems: One, Alex Winchester, demon blood junkie. Two, a crossroads demon he'd lured and trapped. All within fifty feet of each other. Not exactly the best cellmates, if you asked him. But Bobby had been in the middle of this little project before the Winchesters and their angel had shown up without warning and dumped Alex into his basement. See, having lent out his soul last year to Crowley, he was pretty pissed when the good-for-nothing jackass refused to give it back. Bobby'd tried to summon Crowley last year after Stull Cemetery and force the demon into giving the damn thing back but Crowley's Hellhound had sort of thrown a wrench into the mix.

That's why Bobby'd wrangled that specific crossroads demon after months of work and research—he had the gal's original bones, the ones that belonged to the human the demon was inhabiting. Bobby was testing a theory he'd heard about… experimenting, if you wanted to call it that. And Crowley would have quite the fun surprise waiting for him in just a few days, if Bobby's experiments proved successful.

However, Alex's presence had thrown him off a bit, rendering Bobby distracted and worried. Her unexpected arrival and the news that she was addicted to demon's blood came as a real shock. He hadn't laid eyes on her in a year and the last time he'd seen her she'd been bad off, grieving Sam's death. Then she'd disappeared completely. So seeing her again and like this was a tough pill to swallow. Maybe those damn twins were more alike than he'd thought. Speaking of Sam…

There was definitely something off about him. Bobby had known it all along but when Sam came up into his living room five days ago without warning and said "hey, uh, Alex needs to use the panic room to detox off of demon blood if that's okay with you. And by the way, have you heard of any hunts in the area?" Well, Bobby had wondered if the kid were joking with him when he'd asked that so unconcernedly. But apparently, whatever brought him back had left him out of touch with emotions. Sam had no tact anymore—he was goal-oriented and cold, unaffected by most things. Just… robotic. But maybe that's what Hell did to a guy. Bobby wouldn't know. He'd never been.

But Dean, who had been to Hell and back, was still kinds of mad about how Bobby had known about Sam being back all year. When Lisa and Ben had come to stay here a couple months ago after the whole djinn fiasco, Bobby'd told Dean that Sam being alive wasn't news to him. Suffice to say, Dean hadn't been thrilled. Maybe it was wrong of him, but Bobby hadn't said a word about Sam popping back up from the dead. It had been done in hopes to keep Dean safe from the urge to dive back into the hunting life with his brother. All the good it did, huh? Here Dean was again, caught up in the same old mess of monsters and demons.

And monsters lately, it was like they were on steroids or had lost their maps home. Good example, Sam and Dean were currently hunting a Lamia—those were never supposed to leave Greece, ever, and Bobby had never heard of one being stateside, but there was one in Wisconsin of all places. And Rufus, one of Bobby's hunting buddies, had just tracked and killed an Okami in Iowa. Those were supposed to only be found in Japan. It was sort of like the underbelly of the monster world was getting restless and stir-crazy. Cabin fever, maybe. Not good, any way you sliced it.

A loud shriek emanated from downstairs and Bobby glanced up, stilling for a minute. Damn, kid. He heard her sometimes, screeching and hollering and knocking stuff around. Always followed by Cas's quiet, deep tones. Bobby looked in on Alex and Cas that first day after the brothers left and seen Alex sitting huddled on the floor in the middle of the room, hugging her knees, crying and begging Cas to "get me some, please, I thought you loved me, I need it!" Cas had consoled her by touching the side of her head, he'd said something Bobby couldn't quite catch, and Alex had looked at him angrily then stood up—he stood too—she'd walked away then suddenly whirled and tried to attack the angel. Tried being the operative word. Cas had seemed only saddened at her lunacy and as she'd shouted obscenities. He'd touched her forehead and let her fall limp into unconsciousness, catching her grimly. Seemed like that was the holding pattern they were in down there.

Bobby had peeked in on them a few times and was taking food down every day but mostly he tried to stay scarce. It was hard as hell to see her damn half out of her mind. Bobby hadn't asked Dean why and Dean hadn't said, but Bobby had been pretty surprised that Dean had just left Cas with Alex. Maybe it was wrong of Bobby, but he'd assumed that it must have been because Dean couldn't handle the thought of watching Alex go through the withdrawals. Watching Sam detox had been tough enough. And Bobby would never say this out loud, but he was pretty sure he knew which twin was Dean's favorite. That's why he was so damn surprised that Dean had gone with Sam and left Alex behind. The whole thing either said a lot about how much Dean trusted Cas, or how desperate he was to escape having to watch his sister go through hell.

Should be a few more days, Bobby thought, and Alex would come to her senses. It was a shame she'd gotten hooked, and a mystery... but he knew firsthand that she tended to go a little berserk when she lost people she loved. When Dean had died… well. That had been a can of worms, to say the least. She'd been angry and vengeful and so grieved, but had never really talked much about it. Had just thrown herself into hunting, working, and doing things. He remembered that time he'd found her and the gun in the shed. She'd been thinking about it, taking her own life, and he'd known it then put that to an end real quick. He still wondered… what if he'd been too late? Well, he hadn't been.

The way Dean and Cas were acting now, Bobby felt like there was something they weren't telling him. Surely there couldn't be something worse than that sweet girl getting hooked on demon blood. He hoped not. He was just glad she hadn't put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger that past year of being alone. He knew firsthand that the idea was pretty damn appealing on some days. This life they all lived was a great and terrible burden, and sometimes dying sounded like the best option.

But dying would have to wait a little longer. He still had things to do. Bobby ate his fried egg as he got back to his research. He pulled out his stack of world maps and laid out the one of Scotland. He smiled a little to himself because if this plan he was brewing up worked... Crowley was going to crap his kilt.

---

Four Days Later

When she woke up that time, she could feel that things were different somehow. She was being held by Cas, who sat on the floor. Her head was settled into the crook of his neck and her knees were close to her chest, one of his arms supported her back, the other one looped through the bend of her knees. It was a warm, safe, and comforting place to be, immediately making her feel at ease despite her grogginess. And then, Alex began to recall how she'd fallen asleep in his arms…

She was sitting against the panic room wall and he came to sit beside her. His arms rested over his knees. Hadn't she shown him how to sit like that? Alex glanced at him sidelong and saw how he was already looking at her too—self-consciously, her eyes darted away. She resumed staring at the ground between her knees. They hadn't said much that day because she was feeling clear-headed and as a result was wading through the swamp of remembering everything she'd said and done the past two days. Exhausted, ashamed, and disgusted wasn't even close to how she felt.

Beside her, Cas was quiet and strong like he had been for all the past days that she could remember. It would have been better if he were angry with her and giving her rude looks, if he were telling her how awful she was but… he wasn't.

It felt like forever that they'd been stuck in here together. She knew he was worn thin by it just as much as she was. Circumstances were starting to return to her mind: how she'd tried stabbing, hitting, kicking, throwing things at him. He'd even let her try and beat him up several times—then healed her broken fists sadly. He'd listened to her ranting and raving about how much she hated him for what he'd done to her, he'd apologized for leaving, she'd cried about what 'you made me do.' How he stayed here with her in this psychotic break was beyond her.

"I'm so tired of this, aren't you?" she asked softly. Her voice rasped because of how much she'd shouted herself hoarse the past week.

"It doesn't matter how I feel," he answered wearily.

Alex finally looked at him fully. "Doesn't it?"

He met her gaze and said nothing. Did he really feel that way? That what he felt didn't matter? Crumpling, she bowed her head into a waiting hand. When he touched her arm gently, she was even more grieved, uncomfortable receiving affection from him because of how she had treated him. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice was thick with wavering emotion. "I don't deserve this… your kindness." She raised her head with teary eyes. How could he even look at her?

"Don't say that," he told her, pleading with her on some level. "You're not worthless like you keep saying you are."

Did she keep saying that? She couldn't remember. What she did remember was how much simpler things were in the past, during the apocalypse. Ironic as hell that the end of the world had seemed better than this. This was just… continuation of the darkness and uncertainty. Unable to withhold her thoughts and feelings from him, she reached for a line of hope to hang on to. "I just wanna go back to the way things were before," she told him, struggling not to lose control over her strained emotional state, asking him for a miracle or something… she didn't even know. She was so tired and emotionally ragged, and maybe Cas saw that, because he didn't address her comment.

"You need rest," he told her gently. "Let me take you to the cot again."

"No," she said a bit sullenly, looking at it with a dirty side-eye. "It's lumpy and smells like old peanuts."

Castiel paused, a little confused at her complaint. Then he looked at her from the edge of his eyes. "Uh… well, I'm not lumpy..." he offered uncertainly. "And I don't think I smell like… old peanuts." She almost smiled at his unwitting, oddly-timed joke. It was a light moment in the midst of the darkness and it made her remember with full clarity how much she loved him. Then she remembered how they had fallen apart, and it was the biggest tragedy she could fathom. Yet here he was, silently asking with his eyes for her to come to him and let him hold her.

She didn't give herself time to talk herself out of it or tell herself that she didn't deserve that. She needed him and for now, she silenced her inner protests. Nodding faintly, she went to him, circling her arms around his neck as he lifted her easily, settling her there comfortably in his arms. Their gazes locked and her arms froze there around his neck. They were close, a breaths distance away, and the way his full, dark eyes held hers, for a minute, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart jumped in expectant hope and great horror alike, she was scared of that for reasons she couldn't name. Then his eyes lowered away from hers and he bowed his head away. The moment was gone.

Maybe that part of their relationship would die out, maybe that part of it was ruined… how would he ever want her again? After this? Alex laid her head onto him and so many memories of brighter days with him came over her that so did the predictable tears. She shook with restrained emotion and he held her tighter. Tiredness kept rolling over her. It wasn't long before she all but passed out from emotional, mental, and physical fatigue. Cas didn't let her go for even a second.

She felt worlds different now as she continued to stir to wakefulness—she felt rested and clear-headed again for the first time in recent memory. When she lifted her head up off of Cas's shoulder, she found herself looking into his waiting eyes.

"Hello," he said softly. A single word of greeting that she felt him say—that's how close she rested against him.

"Hi," she returned, feeling mildly shy. Was he really here with her with her? Had he really stayed all this time? It felt like a dream in the best of ways… and for a minute she thought of nothing of real depth. Just looked at Cas and saw him for maybe the first time in days, really saw him. The howling madness of the demon blood was gone and Castiel was so much more beautiful than she remembered… those tired but somehow boyish features, the scruff of stubble across his jawline, his brilliant azure eyes… and thinking about how good he looked made her abruptly realize she must look pretty terrible. How long had it been since she'd showered?

Cas studied her closely and he seemed a little hopeful. "How are you feeling?"

Huh, good question. She forgot about her personal hygiene for a minute and instead thought about how she was feeling, taking a mental inventory, giving herself a little time to really consider it. "I'm feeling…" her eyebrows rose fractionally in pleasant, relieved surprise as she realized she really did feel okay again, "like me again, I think." She felt calm and level. Was the nightmare finally over? She sat up slightly then frowned, realizing how stiff and sore her limbs felt. She stretched a little, then made a soft little moan of protest as taut muscles complained. "How long did I sleep?"

"Sixteen hours."

She stopped mid-stretch, eyes going saucer-wide. "Wha…?" That was insanely long. And that entire time, she hadn't had any bad dreams or hallucinations. He smiled softly at her, and she saw that he was relieved. "Does that mean… I'm outta the woods?" Hope was flourishing, and relief.

Cas paused, eyes narrowing in thought. "I... don't know what that saying means. But if it means you're past the worst parts of the detoxification… yes. In fact, I think today is the day you can finally leave this room."

That was the best news she'd ever heard—she almost teared up out of happiness. Impulsively she hugged him tightly around the neck—and she didn't see how his face showed surprised relief at her genuine reaction and the way she was reaching out to him. She was too busy grinning with her eyes screwed shut. Thank god it was all over, finally. Alex made a soft little sound that was half-laugh, half-whimper. And then flashes of what had happened flitted across her mind without warning and her brief respite into joy faded. Yeah, it was over but… the things she'd said and done… she pulled back from Cas, becoming hesitant and contrite.

Not looking him the eye, she cleared her throat and began to stand up on sore, stiff legs. He helped her gently. "Cas, I need a shower more than anything," she said, pulling her arms back to herself and attempting to be lighthearted, or at least sound that way. Then she realized: "All my clothes are..." she trailed off. They were in her car. Which had been impounded or something. She couldn't remember.

Cas saw her look of distress and instead of echoing the sentiment, he got another small smile on his face, like he knew something. "There's something you should see," he told her, then touched the back of her arm gingerly. Suddenly they were outside in the salvage yard. Early morning light made Alex blink a few times in confusion.

"Dean told me you lost everything last week," Cas explained, then indicated that she should to her left. Her heart clenched in surprise when she did. Parked there on the gravel, a familiar friend: her jet black 1968 Mustang. Cas became uncertain when Alex's jaw went slack. "It's not much, but—"

"No, it's... everything," she said, overcome with surprise, touched at how he'd somehow gone and gotten this for her. It wasn't just a car. It was so much more, and for a minute she forgot about all her self-loathing and was overwhelmed with a rush of good feelings... because this car was hers and she hadn't lost it like she lost everything else. "This dumb car," she breathed with a growing smile as she went over and touched the inky exterior with gentle fingers. Cas stood back and watched. This two-ton combination of metal and rubber and leather had been her home the year she'd been alone, it had been her project, her obsession… the thing she'd poured all her frustrations into, especially the first couple months before… before the demon blood.

"When I first saw her, she was this sad, sad rusted hunk of junk," Alex said softly, looking over the sleek black hood, remembering. She'd refinished that and repainted it. A labor of love. "No tires, a broken windshield, no engine… half the body was rusted and sun-bleached. But I saw what she could be. The first few months, this is all I did. Worked on this car. Hours and hours." She paused, looking up at Cas, who was watching quietly, his hands in his trench coat pockets. He seemed glad to see her reaction. "Thanks Cas," she said, humbled and emotional, unsure how she could ever make any of this up to him at all. "This means a lot." She paused, still dealing with a lot of embarrassment. It was hard to accept his kindness after her actions. "Everything you've done. Means a lot."

She cleared her throat and then went to the back of the car, opening the trunk to get her duffel bag. Then she darkened. She remembered there being a flask in there, and she didn't want Cas to think she was trying to get to it… "I already removed it from your things," he said, guessing her thoughts and surprising her. He came to stand beside the trunk.

Alex was impressed but also a little unsure. "When did you get so intuitive?"

His eyes trailed downward grimly. "Commanding a war has taught me many things." He seemed very grown up and mature and burdened to her in that moment. There was a lot of unspoken things in his tone. She worried about him briefly, but her greasy hair and general feeling of I'm gross ended up dominating her thoughts.

She grabbed her bag out of the trunk and closed it behind with a familiar metallic thunk. "I'll uh, I'll go get showered," she said, and turned toward the house.

Cas followed. "I'll come with you."

Alex stopped. "I… I kinda need some privacy, Cas." Wait. She knew why he wanted to follow her. A little mortified, she was chastened. "I'm not gonna... jump out the window or anything or run off to the closest demon dive."

"I just want to make sure you're all right," he said, then made an assumption of his own. "If you're worried about me seeing you unclothed... I already have."

Her eyes shot up to his. "Uh…" Alex shut her agape mouth and pressed it into a thin line, looked to the side. "I know that. I remember." And she did. They had been so comfortable in those last few days before the world had gone to crap, so intimate and now… things were strange and unknown. "Cas, just… I need some space, okay? Just because you've… seen me unclothed before doesn't mean…" she wasn't sure how to tell him she was just not okay with being seen naked, at all, by anyone right now. "I'm not… it's not okay right now."

He grew startled, then understanding, then deeply unsettled. "Yes, of course, I didn't even think…" he seemed unsure of what to say. "I didn't mean…"

This was so uncomfortable. Cheeks warming, Alex shrugged, shook her head, and tried to downplay everything. "No, it's fine. I'm fine," she said, scratching the back of her neck absently and not looking at him. "I'll be fine."

Castiel's worried expression didn't waver. "Let me take you there," he said, and reached out for her.

"No, I can wa—" too late. They were standing in front of the upstairs bathroom door. "—alk." He stood back, indicating that he was going to remain right there. Alex looked at him long and hard, then mumbled something about being out in a few minutes. She proceeded to shut herself in there and immediately turn the shower on then set her bag down onto the sink.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was shocked at her appearance. She looked utterly disgusting—her hair was greasy and limp, her skin was grimy from sweating so much, her—wait. She touched her fingertips to her upper chest, confused and slightly panicked because it was missing. Where was her penny necklace? It was gone, why was it gone? She searched with frantic fingers around under her tank top straps and then looked down her shirt, as if it might be lurking around in her clothes somewhere. Oh no no no she couldn't have lost it, that penny was what Cas gave her a year ago, the only thing he'd had in his pocket and he'd given it to her where was it!?

And then she remembered in disconnected flashes ripping it off and throwing it at him, telling him to take it back, she didn't want it. Oh my god. She slowly covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. The meaning wasn't lost on her.

---

Castiel stood there outside the bathroom, listening to the water run. He heard her moving around in the shower and listened closely. She seemed all right, but he needed to be sure. About ten minutes passed and then he heard boots clomping up the steps, alerting him to a new presence. Bobby came around the corner.

"Hey Cas. How she doin'?"

"Better," Cas said, nodding faintly. "Much better. In fact, I think she's completely through it."

There was visible relief on the hunter's face. "That's real good news." Bobby smiled under his beard and patted Castiel on the shoulder. "You did good, Cas. Earned some major points with me."

Castiel paused, not understanding. "What sort of 'points'?" He questioned with intrigue. "Are they redeemable for something?"

Bobby looked taken aback and then a touch wearily amused. "You, uh, really need to work on your jargon, kid."

Ah, so that had been slang for something. Cas decided he should ask Alex later about what Bobby had meant. But for now, he had something else he was wondering about. "How did it go with the bone burning?" Cas had gathered what Bobby had been doing over the past week and had even discussed it with the man a few times when he'd brought food down for Alex.

Bobby nodded. "Worked like a charm."

The shower stopped in the bathroom and Cas glanced that way before refocusing on Bobby. "You seem pleased," he observed.

Bobby shrugged modestly. "You would be too if you'd figure out a way to back the guy who's holdin' your soul over your head into a corner."

Castiel frowned a little. "Crowley?" He asked, suddenly guarded.

"Yup," Bobby said, oblivious to Cas's internal reaction of nervousness. "Came into some real interesting information recently. I've got it all narrowed down, think I know where the bastard's bones are buried." The hunter suddenly seemed to get an idea. "Hey—you doin' anything this afternoon?"

Not liking the sounds of this, Cas tried not to show his reaction. "…Why?"

"Could use a hand," Bobby replied nonchalantly.

The angel put two and two together. "Burning Crowley's bones?" Castiel couldn't let that happen, he was secretly working with Crowley to open Purgatory and use the souls therein to gain enough power to defeat Raphael once and for all. As bad as it was, for now Cas had to protect Crowley's life if there were a threat against it. And worse still, he couldn't risk telling anyone his secret.

"Not exactly," Bobby said, grinning lopsidedly, feeling good about whatever plan he was thinking of. He didn't notice Cas's look of slight alarm. "But I'm gonna threaten to do that if he won't hand my soul back over."

Cas realized he needed to be very, very careful with how he chose to proceed. "That seems risky," he commented vaguely.

"Well you got any other ideas on how to get the dad-blasted thing back?"

Cas was honest. "Uh… no."

The bathroom door opened slightly and Alex poked her wet head through the cracked doorway. "We'll do it, Bobby."

"Ah," Bobby commented, a little uncertain as to how he should react to her dripping and towel-clad appearance. "Hey, kiddo. How long you been there?"

"Long enough. We'll do whatever you need us to do."

Castiel looked more than a little bit reluctant about Alex volunteering them for the job. "Alex, I'm not sure…"

"It's just digging up a grave, right?" she asked, glancing his way

"Doesn't this feel a mite too soon for you to be out there in the field again?" Bobby asked in veiled concern. "You need your rest, you gotta get yourself back in shape for it."

"I've done a lot more with a lot less gas in my tank and you know it." Another use of jargon Cas wasn't entirely clear on. "Bobby, I'm fine. I need to get out of here and do something so I can feel like myself again. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed." She shut the door and with it, closed off any further opportunities for either man to argue.

Castiel frowned at the door, perturbed. Bobby just chuckled in resignation, seeing Cas's reaction and empathizing. "Trust me, that girl wants somethin'… too bad if you're resistant to the idea." The man turned to walk back where he'd come from and spoke up as he got further away. "We'll make sure and feed her before I send you off to where Crowley's got his bones laid up."

"But why would she want to do this?" Castiel asked, making Bobby stop and turn mid-step. Shouldn't she want to rest and continue to recuperate? Shouldn't she want to stay here and not become involved in more danger?

Bobby wasn't confused. "Have you met her family? Gluttons for punishment," he stated factually, then became mildly pensive. "The only thing they know how to do is to keep goin'." He smiled tightly, wan. "I'll get some supplies rustled up for you two. I hear Scotland's nice this time of year."

---

About An Hour Later
Canisbay, Scotland

A small white abbey was nestled on the top of a gentle green hill that overlooked a vast moor—on that plain a proud old stone castle sat beside a great lake, and beyond, great rolling mountains marched. The sky was overcast and gray, the chilly air was thick with moisture. It was probably about six or seven in the evening—the light was soft, even, and waning. It was beautiful, it was serene and picturesque... and Alex wasn't paying a damn bit of attention to it. She was up to her waist in dirt, shovel in hand. She wore jeans, a flannel button up with a cargo jacket, and a foul expression.

Back in South Dakota, Bobby had given them a layout of his plan as he made Alex eat a can of beans, then they'd gotten some supplies together, including an international cell phone that Bobby was gonna use in this little plan of his. They would get the call in probably twenty minutes or so. She and Cas were just a few inches away from hitting the coffin where Crowley—better known as Fergus McLeod when he was human—rested in peace. Not for much longer, motherfucker. There weren't many demons Alex hated as much as him. She still hadn't told anyone that it was him who'd fed her that pack of lies about being Lucifer kryptonite. It didn't really matter, nothing they could do about it now.

Adjacent to the tiny church, the old graveyard was small and fenced in by a waist-height stacked stone wall. Weathered gray headstones scattered across the sloping hill. Behind Alex, shoveling dirt right with her, Cas was silent. They were back to back and the air between them was tense and oddly uncomfortable. She hadn't said much to Cas. Ever since realizing she'd thrown the penny he'd given her at him, she was too mortified and shaken up to say much—that plus everything else she knew she'd done made her want to withdraw. It was easier than facing the music. So she didn't say anything except short, clipped, necessary things. When she'd overheard Bobby talking about this little errand, she'd leapt at the chance to do something useful. Maybe to make up for the shit she'd put her loved ones through with the demon blood addiction, she didn't know. She just needed to do something meaningful and feel useful and decent again. She stuck her shovel down into the earth and kicked down on the lip of the shovel, then grunted and sent dirt flying out onto the grass outside of the hole they were digging.

"Are you sure you don't need to stop?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine," she said in growing irritation—this was like the tenth time he'd asked and his concern was grating her raw nerves. "Stop asking." And she was fine. Tired, yeah, physically not her best, but it felt good to be punishing her body for what it had done to her the past week.

She heard Castiel sigh heavily, then heard him stop digging. "I wish you would let me do this my way."

"What, with angel magic?" she asked sort of rudely. "No hard work involved?" She scoffed and sent another shovelful of dirt flying, not pausing for a second. "No. Sometimes breaking your own back's a good thing."

"By what logic would breaking your own back be a good thing?" he asked peevishly, and she heard that he was angry with her, or frustrated.

"It's just a saying, Cas," she retorted, sending another sloppy shovelful of dirt out of the grave. She sort of wanted to fight. She sort of wanted him to be angry at her and tell her off.

But he didn't fire back another angry question or retort like she wanted. There was a short wounded silence, which was worse, and she stopped digging to look down at her booted feet, feeling remorse settle on her shoulders. "Why are you angry with me?" He asked her quietly.

She couldn't find a mean reply in herself at the soft question. Only endless guilt. "I'm not angry with you," she admitted. "I'm angry with me." She gritted her teeth and smashed the shovel down into dirt with renewed vigor. "The things I did, what you saw…" she stuck the shovel into earth again with more force than necessary.

There was abruptly a gentle, appealing hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," Cas told her. Alex's bitter rage reared its ugly head again and she pulled away from his touch, too disturbed with herself to accept it.

"Like hell I don't," she snapped, still not turning to look at him. "Don't patronize me."

"Alex…" he appealed.

She whirled angrily. "Just help me dig this grave up and—" she saw his hand sweep over the ground beneath their feet and a pile of yellowed bones appeared at his feet. "Cas!" Alex all but shouted, throwing her shovel down petulantly.

He looked at her plainly. "It's about to rain." Thunder rumbled lazily as if on command, and Cas turned to look over his shoulder. Behind him, she could see the rain coming across the moor and sweeping toward them.

"Oh." She deflated, not sure what the fuck her problem was.

Cas took the huge step out of the grave and extended his hand down to her to help her out. "We should go inside," he said, choosing, again, to overlook her behavior.

Alex looked up at him with reservation, then at his hand… and refused the help, pointedly getting out of the grave herself without much grace. She walked ahead of him, not looking back. What the hell am I doing right now? She wondered, even as the rain suddenly swept over her. It was heavy, thick and loud, and she was soaked immediately. She turned and looked back at Cas, who was watching her through the haze of rain, his arms hanging at his sides. He hadn't moved from the graveside. His hair was wet now and stuck to his head, plastered against his forehead. He looked alone and sad, which was how she felt too. She was trying to push him away because she couldn't handle the thought of losing him again. It would hurt too much. It would kill her. You love him, why are you being an asshole? Because it was easier than what she really felt, and she was a coward who couldn't deal with the emotional pain or the dread that she was as unlovable as she felt deep down. She turned, unable to bear the sight of him looking at her like that. She continued toward the church, not running. There was no point; she was already utterly soaked. Had they really come all this way just to fall apart? Was she really going to be such a bitch and spurn his attempts to be tender and kind?

He shouldn't have chosen her, that was the thing she couldn't stop thinking. And now things were too fucked up to repair and it was her fault. Things changed, people changed, end of story. Maybe the universe was trying to tell them they didn't belong together anymore. She got to the side of the church and the door there opened without issue. Huh, they didn't lock their churches in this part of the world? She glanced behind her—Cas was following, but at a hesitant distance. Her heart clenched in pain but she didn't wait for him. She went inside, trying to be alone, trying to distance herself from the pain while being an absolute child about her emotions. The old wood floor creaked underneath her work boots. Rainwater dripped down from her clothes and hair.

The church was small and cozy and had a high, arched ceiling. She was in the back of the sanctuary where hand-carved wooden pews lined either side of the aisle. A crucifix was centered above the humble wooden pulpit, and angel imagery decorated the wall on either side of the cross. Behind her, she heard soft footsteps and turned slightly. Cas was dry—magically—and touched her shoulder wordlessly. Suddenly she was dry too.

There was a long, uncertain pain. "Thanks," she said wearily. Her voice echoed softly and she couldn't meet his gaze. Just tell him. And say you're sorry. And find a way to fix this. She considered it for a minute, needing to do those things more than anything else… but the thought of being hurt again was too much. I can't.

She turned and wandered up the aisle, looking up at the angel imagery with resignation. Trying not to feel Cas's presence behind her. Really, this was ridiculous. She'd spent the entire year wishing he'd be there, now he was and she was acting like this? Alex didn't understand herself in the least and when she reached the front row of pews, she sank down to sit there quietly and pressed her hands in between her knees then bowed her head. It might have looked to anyone else like she was praying. But she was mourning.

About thirty seconds passed and then she heard him walk up the aisle. She shut her eyes as he came closer. Was he finally going to berate her and tell her he couldn't handle it anymore, that he didn't love her like he thought he did? The things she'd hallucinated replayed in her mind… Cas telling her over and over how disappointed he was, how angry, how upset with her choices. It was hard to forget those things. And sometimes hard to figure out which things were real or not.

The pew creaked next to her under his weight as he sat beside her. When his arm brushed against hers, her heart caught. He was staring ahead of himself into middle distance, deep in thought. A long moment passed and she thought they were just going to sit there in silence, and then without warning, he spoke, breaking the utter silence of the empty church. "I know you're angry because I was gone," he said softly, and his voice echoed like hers had. "I'm angry with myself, too." Their gazes met at the same moment—his harrowed and deeply grieved, hers guarded and unsure and growing increasingly pained. He looked down. "I know it's worthless, but… I did try to tell you. Twice. Where I was." She saw how his jaw clenched. "The first message I gave to Balthazar was… I told him to tell you of the war in Heaven and how I couldn't leave. That I couldn't come see you again until I defeated Raphael. That it wasn't safe, that I didn't know how long it would be. I told him to tell you how sorry I was that I was torn away. That I didn't choose or intend it. And I asked him… to ask you… to wait for me. If you would."

Her chest literally ached at the heaviness in his voice, the realization that he was mourning this mess just as much as she was. If only Balthazar had done what Cas had asked. Cas shook his head somberly. "I thought he died delivering that message. Instead I found out, just a few days ago, that he faked his own death and deserted me for his own selfish reasons. It's… what I believe you might call a tragedy, the way these things played out."

Her defenses were crumbling down at his honesty, at the anguish in his voice, at the feeling of him next to her. She stared down at the wooden floor tensely as Cas continued. "Six months passed and I didn't even know it." He sounded utterly broken. "And when I did realize… I sent Rachel to you. I told her to tell you that time had passed for me without my even realizing. That I still hadn't won the war. That I hadn't forgotten you." He paused even as her eyes shut. This was everything she needed to hear but it was so intense and hurt her on levels she didn't even understand. Cas's pause was weighty and his voice grew softer. "I was so afraid you would think that… that I had forgotten you," he told her, and when she opened her eyes, a huge tear dripped down onto the floor. "When Rachel returned, she told me she saw you. That she delivered the message. That you told her you were waiting for me." He shook his head, anger passing over his features. "She lied about all of it."

"Why would she do that?" Alex asked, not understanding why some random angel would sabotage them like that. It hurt her, she felt wounded… like, what did I do to you, Rachel?

Cas seemed to be wrestling with the same question. "She thought she was doing what was right. At least, that was her claim." His voice darkened a little, but it was incredible sadness that prevailed in his tone. "I still don't know if I believe her."

It was such a cruel joke fate played on them… each had believed the wrong thing all year. It wasn't fair. Alex bowed her head, overwrought. "You're crying," Cas observed softly and sadly, shifting a little to face her a little more, leaning to her as if he was going to try and hold her. A huge silent tear ran down her cheek and she turned away, hiding behind the shield of her hair.

Cas seemed confused as well as afraid to push her at all, and he retreated, studying her in concern. "This whole year, I… believed you knew where I was," he said, still trying to convince her or comfort her, she didn't know. She wiped her cheek, cursing her emotions. "I believed that you were with Dean. That you were waiting for me." It felt like an accusation and she was stung by it, even though she knew that he was trying to explain himself to her. She should have waited and known he would be back. Instead she'd acted like she had a death wish. He was gathering courage to ask something, and she dreaded what it would be. "How did it happen, Alex? The demon blood." Her eyes shot to his. "Please," he asked. "Tell me."

She owed him that much, didn't she? After he'd gone through the horrors of it with her? Alex took in a deep breath and stared off at the pulpit. For a long moment she said nothing. Just say it. Get it over with. Stop being a pussy. "It was an accident," she confessed softly, remembering. "I first drank it… because of Lucifer." How awful that night had been, and how mortifying a mistake she'd made. It haunted her. "And t-then, a month or so into living alone, I started noticing I was being followed. Watched. It was demons." She didn't see, but Cas's expression wavered perceptibly. "And so I lured one, trapped him. Tried to get him to tell me why I was being followed. He got outta the trap, we fought, I beat his face until it was dripping blood. He got the upper hand for a minute. It just… dripped down into my mouth. I can't tell you how strong that one little drop made me feel." She swallowed deeply, looked down, working her hands anxiously together. "I tried not to. But the demons kept coming. And…" she repeated herself, out of any other way to say it: "I tried not to. But it did save my life a couple times. Made me strong enough to take down enemies I couldn't take otherwise." She scoffed at herself, cynical and self-deprecating. "And the weird thing is, the demons, I still don't know why they were tracking me. I killed so many of them, like… I dunno, maybe twenty? Thirty?" She let out a heavy breath and put her forehead into her hand. "God."

Cas was silent, digesting, off in his own world of guilt. "I've tried to keep you safe." He sounded numb almost. "And I destroyed you in the process."

Alex looked at him with an intense frown. "I'm not destroyed," she said immediately. Then she wavered. "Don't say I'm destroyed." She stood up, trying to escape this conversation and the knowledge that Cas thought she was beyond repair. Cas stood up behind her and gently touched either of her arms, said her name... and it was too much. She yanked away and turned to look at him through pained features. "No—Cas. Stop." He seemed startled at her reaction, then hurt by it. "What are we doing?" All the sadness she carried was spilling out of her to the tune of hopelessness. "This is a mess. We can't do this," she said, shaking her head and struggling against herself. "I'm bad for you, case in point, this whole last week." She smashed her lips together for a second, blinking away stinging eyes. She was trying so hard to be brave, to do the right thing. To be grown up about this, but she was confused as hell and didn't even know what was going on, not really. Only that she thought they were screwed. "When you first kissed me, all that time ago. You warned me that we shouldn't. You were right. The only thing here for us is pain."

Castiel looked thunderstruck. "...How can you say that?" he asked in a voice soft with disbelief, and if her heart hadn't been broken before, it was now. It was easy to see how blindsided Cas was by her confusion and her urges to pull away and run. So that's why she was so startled when he appealed to her with an almost uncharacteristic surge of conviction. "You once told me that we were not a mistake," he said, stepping closer and taking her gently by either arm to emphasize his meaning—his expression pleaded with her to still feel that way. "Do you remember that?"

She looked up into his eyes and her throat choked her with emotion as memories consumed her. "Yes," she replied, barely a whisper. "I remember."

Utterly devastated, Cas searched her gaze. "Then why do you seem to believe the opposite now?"

A question she had no clue how to answer. "It's... complicated," she hedged, then shook her head, wishing someone could help her understand what was going on. "I don't know."

"Is this about… what happened to you?" He was trying so hard to understand. His question filled her instantly with fear and regret, shame, anxiety and memories of what Glen had done. "I know that you feel guilty, that you think it's your fault," he said, trying to be careful, but also not able to keep himself from addressing it—she knew half of her crazed ranting in the panic room had been Glen-centric. "It wasn't your fault, how could it have been?" he asked, clearly pained at the thought that she felt that way and simultaneously trying to understand and speak to her jumbled feelings on the matter. "I don't hold it against you—how could I?"

Her eyes were gazing at the floor. Her voice was soft, low, trembling. "You don't know what happened."

"Then tell me," he asked, desperate and gentle and trying to understand.

And Alex knew that if she didn't tell him, if she kept lugging around this heavy weight on her own, it would kill her. Even though she wanted to keep it to herself and keep beating herself up over it, if she was gonna tell anyone about what happened… it wouldn't be Dean. It wouldn't be Bobby. It wouldn't be Sam. It would be Cas. So she dug deep for strength and told him everything. But it wasn't easy. "Glen was… I thought he was an okay guy. He seemed… nice enough." Long pause to bite the insides of her mouth. This was going to be harder than she thought. Cas looked like he was filled with impossible dread. But Alex kept going. "I knew him and his sister a few years back when we were teenagers. Ran into them a few months into this past year. Started hunting with them. He, uh, he flirted with me a lot, I knew he liked me. But, he liked all girls, and even some guys so… I dunno. But he kept saying I was different. Made me think…" she trailed off, feeling insanely stupid. Her cheeks were burning and she looked down at her feet. She felt sick, telling Cas this. "He… he kissed me once. I thought you were gone and I… started thinking… I dunno. That I needed to move on." Her voice broke in shame. "I didn't even like him that much." She glanced up at Cas, waiting to see utter shock and repulsion on his face. But all she saw was heartbroken sadness.

This was the hardest part and she didn't know if she could muddle through. But she tried. "And… what, last week? He and I were alone and… he started… fixing me up cuz I got hurt and…" she struggled to keep speaking, "touching me and… I let it happen." That was the source of her greatest shame, right there. "I wanted it on some level," Alex said, still not able to look Castiel in the eye. "And he wasn't you. And I thought about how he wasn't you, like, and it got to be too much and I couldn't go through with it. And I changed my mind and said no." She grew quiet, chilled. "And he wouldn't stop."

She raised her eyes to look at Cas, who was utterly horrified. He seemed afraid to hear more. Alex looked down, ashamed, but soldiered through, stating the facts. Anything to get this over with. "I started to fight back when he… wouldn't let me go. He hit me in the head, hard, to where I couldn't see straight. Threw me down onto the bed, pinned me there." She felt oddly disconnected from those horrible memories as she spoke them aloud. Like those things had happened to some other poor, stupid girl. "I was on my stomach and my head was spinning but I saw car keys, grabbed them... used them as a weapon…" she came out of her semi-trance. "I don't even know how, Cas, but… somehow, I got away before he could…" She couldn't bring herself to say 'rape me.'

Still horrified, Cas looked at her for a long moment, trying to decide something. "So he didn't…" he trailed off, seemingly unable to say the words either.

She shook her head, voice a mere whisper as she ran a hand up and down one of her arms. "No."

"I should never have left you," Cas said, deeply upset. "Even for a second."

Yeah, well… you did. She didn't say that out loud. Instead she wrapped her arms around her own torso and shrugged. "I just… he fooled me, so easily. He lied to my face that whole time and I believed it. I... thought I had better instincts." That wasn't the worst part, or the thing that bothered her the most. And Cas needed to know. "I hate myself for… for ever even considering him. At all, even once." She chanced looking at him, trying really hard to show him, somehow, that she regretted ever thinking what she had about Cas not coming back. That she saw how wrong she'd been. That this wasn't his fault. "I just wanted to feel something. Anything. I…" missed you so much. "I was alone. And I didn't know where you'd gone."

Pain filled his eyes and he seemed completely at a loss. Outside, the rain was letting up.

"I had a lot of time to think the past year," Alex said as she began to walk toward one of the tall, narrow windows slowly. "But I didn't wanna think." She got to the window and stared out of it without seeing much. "Most days, I believed you were dead, Cas." She looked back over her shoulder to where he stood. It was hard to tell him this, it left her naked emotionally. "But the days I believed you were still alive were worse… cuz I thought if you were alive and not here… I thought it meant…" her voice almost gave out. "That you didn't want this anymore."

He didn't even hesitate. "I will always want this." He came to her without waiting. She felt herself outwardly trying to stifle how much it meant to hear him say that. "Why won't you believe me?" he asked, taking her expression the wrong way. "You believed me once."

"I should have waited for you," was all she could say, wishing she could just hug him and ask him to make everything all right again. "I should have believed you were coming back."

"You had no reason to believe I was." He seemed defeated. "I am so sorry, Alex." He sounded as regretful and sorry as she did and the space between them, even though only a couple feet, seemed endless, infinite, and vast. Impossible to cross.

In Alex's pocket, the phone Bobby had sent with them rang shrilly, startling her. After a brief confusion, Alex pulled it out and answered, short on choices and remembering she wasn't here in Scotland for kicks. "Hey Bobby," she answered gruffly, eyes watching the floor, darting between her feet and Cas's.

"Showtime," he told her, his voice a little faint on the other end of the line. "Hang on and wait for your cue, all right?"

Alex glanced at Cas. "Yeah." She nodded toward church exit. "We should probably go back out there," she told Cas, having to be businesslike. Personal matters would have to wait. "It stopped raining." Cas's features distorted just slightly into a frown, but he nodded his resigned understanding and they left the church, heading back into the damp graveyard. Alex kept the phone to her ear. She could hear Bobby chanting in Latin... a familiar summoning ritual. She glanced at Cas, who, once they reached the grave again, looked grim and off in his own thoughts, distracted. Tense. Alex had to turn away partially because Bobby was counting on her. She had to focus on this moment and leave her emotional crap at the door for the time being. Head in the game. A hunter's no use to anyone distracted, Dean always said.

"Well, you look like hammered crap," Bobby's voice said in her ear. But he wasn't speaking to her.

Crowley's familiar voice sounded on the other end of the line. "And you're a vision as always." There was a pause. "Really, Bobby, a devil's trap? Don't we both know how this game ends?"

"Shuddup. I want—"

Crowley cut him off. "Lemme stop you right there. In fact I'll do the shorthand for you." He began to mock Bobby's voice and accent, which was pretty goofy sounding. "'I want my soul back, idjit!' 'Fraid not. 'But I'm surly and I got a beard. Gimme!' Blah, blah, blah. Homespun cornpone insult, witty retort from yours truly. The bottom line is, you get bubkes." Alex could hear Crowley smirking. "Are we done?"

"Just getting started," Bobby replied steadily, his card up his sleeve. "I know it all now. Fergus. You may be king of the dirt bags here but, in life, you were nothing but a two-bit tailor who sold his soul in exchange for an extra three inches below the belt."

"Just trying to hit double digits," Crowley purred. "So, you got a glimpse behind the curtain. And?"

"And… now I know where you're planted," Bobby said. "Say hello to my little friend."

Alex heard the phone being picked up. This was her cue. "Crowley," she greeted in a voice dripping with faux enthusiasm, then added in for effect, "Darling."

Cas was watching with folded arms and a pensive expression, leaned against a nearby headstone.

"Ah," Crowley said, sounding a little bit caught off guard. "My favorite Winchester girl. It's… been a long time. We should get together."

Enjoying the uncertainty in Crowley's voice, Alex put on the drama. This was one thing she had gotten good at. Channeling her older brother and putting on overly confident airs even when she was a total mess inside. "Huh, well, I dunno. Maybe when I get back."

"Back?"

"Yeah… I got bit by the travel bug and I'm about, mm, four thousand miles away right now... standing in this cute little place called Canisbay. Scotland. You ever been?" The other end of the line was silent and she chuckled, imagining his dumbstruck expression. "I'm trying to picture you in one of those little plaid skirts."

"They're called kilts, sweetie," Crowley said with growing discomfort, even though he tried to sidestep it with stupid comments. "I had very athletic calves. So what, exactly, are you doing in my neck of the woods, hm?"

"Looking for buried treasure," Alex replied casually. "Think I found some, too. The bones of one Fergus McLeod..."

The phone made a noise like it had shifted away from Crowley's mouth—he was speaking to Bobby now. "This is ridiculous. The whole burning bones thing—it's a myth."

"We could test that theory," Alex offered slyly. Cas again glanced at her, their eyes met for a second. He seemed to dislike this entire thing.

"I know an employee of yours who would disagree," Bobby put in on the other end.

There was another pause and it was pretty clear how trapped Crowley was feeling. "...Ah. That's where she got to."

"You demons," Bobby's said darkly. "You think you're something special. But you're just spirits. Twisted, perverted, evil spirits. But, end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego. We torch your bones, you go up in flames."

"Hey Crowley, got a light?" Alex asked, feeling a little power-high and fingering the matchbook in her jacket pocket. "I do."

On the other end of the line, Bobby gave his last chance. "Your bones for my soul. Going once… going twice."

There was a loud thud, then Alex could hear Crowley say "Bollocks" faintly. Had he thrown the phone down?

There was a long pause. "You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs," Bobby said, and then a few seconds later, "pleasure doing business with you." Had it worked? Was it really that easy?

Crowley sounded absolutely butthurt. "Now if you don't mind?"

A couple more beats passed, then there was swishing at the other end of the line, and Bobby's voice was loud in Alex's ear. "He made good on my end. You two watch yourselves, you're about to have company."

"Yeah." She hung up even as Castiel turned around, hearing a twig snapping. Behind them, Crowley approached with a big satchel. His expression was foul. The demon paused, seeing Cas, as if he were startled. "What are you doing here, harpsichord?" He asked, seeming a shade angrier. Cas's stony face darkened even as Crowley looked at Alex with utter contempt. "The nerve of you, the both of you."

The demon was clearly shaken up, and Alex enjoyed it thoroughly. "What, you're the only one who gets to bone others, Crowley?" Pun intended. Crowley looked thoroughly unamused, like her little joke had defeated his hope in the human race.

"Speaking of bones," he said flatly, looking at the space between Cas and Alex where his bones had been placed. He smiled tightly, clearly wanting to stab either one or both of them in the face. "I believe those are mine." He made to move forward—and suddenly found himself with an angel blade at his neck.

"Not so fast, dickwad," Alex hissed. Crowley and Castiel alike were taken aback at how fast she'd moved—she'd whipped the blade out and had a hand closed like a vice at the back of his neck—the point of the blade pressed softly into the base of Crowley's neck, and he swallowed, wide-eyed. As laid back and controlled as she'd been a few minutes ago, she was furious and close to killing him right then and there. "After what you pulled last year, the shit you started… I don't have many reasons to let you live, do I? In fact… go ahead and name one."

Cas's hand was on her shoulder to stop her. "Alex—a deal is a deal," he said. Crowley looked at Cas and his expression was unreadable but foul. Cas's voice lowered. "Even when made with this abomination."

Angry that he had a point, Alex considered for a couple more seconds. He gave Bobby his soul, this jackass demon was supposed to get his bones. But after killing so many demons the past year, what was one more? Especially Crowley. But Cas was right, and she hated it, but she relented. She pulled the blade away angrily and put it back into her jacket. Crowley plastered a wiseass smile on his face, having the audacity to pull his head back and look down his nose at her cooly. "You mad at me love, or do you just want a taste?" He asked softly, his voice despicable, gruff velvet, his words striking a nerve in her and making her lose her edge. Crowley saw it and smiled even wider. "I must look so delicious to you right now. Well, pull up a chair and pass the pepper, it's dinner time," he goaded, then looked at her with thinly-veiled disdain. "You're just like your waste-of-space moose brother, aren't you? Nothing but a junkie."

Cas stepped forward, demanding Crowley's attention and simultaneously protecting Alex from Crowley's harsh glare. "Don't speak to her that way," he growled, and Alex didn't see the meaningful look that the two of them exchanged—or how there was more going on between them than she knew. It was like they were silently challenging each other.

Crowley gave in and let a sarcastic little comment fly. "Oh how sweet. Standing up for your little whore." The tree Crowley was standing beside was almost shattered in half when Cas slammed the demon into it brutally. "Oy, watch the suit, mate!" Crowley protested, red-faced and appalled.

Cas held him by the front of his jacket and seethed. "I'm warning you Crowley," he spat.

Something about the angel's words seemed to inspire a threatening quality in the demon's expression. "Oh are you?" Crowley asked softly, eyebrows raised tauntingly. "What was it you were saying a minute ago about a deal being a deal?" He looked at Cas with pointed meaning. "Now do me a favor and sod off, Columbo." Cas backed off, but his expression remained dark and stormy. He glanced at Alex, who was beside him and already looking at him in slight worry.

Crowley straightened his jacket, disgruntled. "This entire thing's left me in a foul mood, I'll have you know." He brushed past the angel and went to his bones, which were piled beside the grave now—had Cas done that? Alex didn't know, but he must have. The demon crouched over them and inspected them. "Interesting, isn't it," he said cooly. "I'm not the one with with skeletons in the closet, now am I?" he asked, skull in hand as he turned his head to give them a dark and knowing look. "And to think I've been so nice and kept your little secret for you this whole time. The one about what you two did about, oh, a year ago, was it?" His sour expression softened into amusement when Cas and Alex glanced at each other in mild worry. Crowley stuffed his bones down into the satchel, in control again and enjoying it completely. "I've the right mind to go blab to your oldest brother just to spite you after this lovely little reach around, Alex dear." He rose, satchel in hand, and gave them a little smile. "What do you think he'd say, hm, Cas? One can only imagine. Now, if you'll excuse me." He turned as if to walk away, then changed his mind and raised a finger as if he were thinking. "Ah, and… next time you cross me like this—either of you—there'll be hell to pay. Literally." His dark features were chillingly serious.

"Keep an eye on those bones, Crowley," Alex retorted, keeping up the attitude for show, to try and make it seem like he didn't worry or intimidate her in the least. He did both, but he didn't need to know that. "Would be a shame if you misplaced them."

Crowley narrowed his eyes and smiled back, every bit as false as she was. "A crying shame," he said snidely. "Cheers." And he disappeared.

The graveyard was silent, and so were Cas and Alex for a long moment. "How does he always know everything?" Alex asked, staring at the spot where Crowley had been. She was extremely shocked and uncomfortable and wondering if Crowley meant what she thought he did. But how could he know that?

Cas seemed similarly troubled and was shaking his head. "I'm not sure." He paused heavily, meeting her faltering gaze with a hesitant look in his eyes. "Perhaps… perhaps we should tell Dean before Crowley does."

Alex shook her head adamantly. "No. No." She looked around unseeingly at the Scottish landscape surrounding them. "Let's just go. Back to Bobby's, okay?" She turned and began to gather their things. "We're done here."

She grabbed the two shovels, the bag of weapons she hadn't needed and she straightened then nodded tensely, giving the darkening Scottish landscape one last look. She felt Cas touch her arm again, and with a jolt they were at Bobby's again, in the basement. That was always so strange, just suddenly being one place then another. She felt Cas looking at her and tried not to think about it. She went to Bobby's tool rack and hung the shovels back up where they'd been, her back to Castiel.

He followed her. "Why are you acting this way?" he asked her slowly, and the worry in his voice was utterly decimating. "I don't understand… I thought…" he trailed off and she turned back around to look at him.

"You thought what?" she asked, guarded. Not hostile, not open, not anything.

He approached her slowly. "Alex, I—" he stopped walking and his gaze went upward, he seemed to be listening to something. She followed his gaze with her eyes, seeing nothing but dark ceiling "I'm... being summoned," he said heavily. "It seems that I need to go."

Her face was blank. "Oh." It seemed like the air in the room had lessened. She nodded and looked downward quietly, attempting to save face for the moment. From the second he'd shown back up she'd been afraid of this moment and known it was coming… so she should have been ready for it. But… she wasn't. She could have reacted one of two ways: the first was to show him how deeply his announcement upset her: kiss him, hug him, tell him how much she already missed him. The second was to act like everything was fine and avoid the heartache. Selfish and scared, she chose option two. The thought of more heartbreak was too much, the thought of losing him again or maybe not seeing him again for another year was terrifying.

Cas was wearing his emotions on his sleeves unlike Alex: It was obvious he didn't want to go and that the thought of leaving her again was emotionally torturous… and that made her withdrawn exterior even harder to maintain. Alex couldn't look at him, couldn't take in how sad he was. "I... don't know how long I'll be gone. Or when I can come back." He paused, and drifted a little closer, seeking either to comfort or be comforted, she didn't know. "I truly wish…"

Alex shook her head. "It's fine," she said in a forced tone, trying to be unaffected, trying to be fine. "I'll call you if I need you." She made herself look him in the eye and give a tight little smile.

Castiel didn't smile back. Instead, he looked sadder. Resigned and deflated and lost. "I... suppose this is goodbye, then," he said quietly. This was awful, and it was beginning to dawn on Alex how awful. She wasn't the only one who had gone through shit this year, and maybe she should try and remember that—but it was too late now. Cas looked down, his features scrunched in anxiousness, his dark eyebrows working toward each other rigidly. "Do you still…" he paused, looked like maybe he wasn't going to finish his question, like maybe he was ashamed of what it was. His voice softened, he looked up at her. "Do you still love me?"

His question was like a brick wall, the look on his face was utter defeat and Alex couldn't breathe for the smallest moment. Oh god. All day she'd been pushing him away and trying to hurt him, fight with him; all week long she'd told him she hated him then thrown what he'd given her in his face—of course he'd doubt she loved him—but hearing him ask it made something snap inside, causing all the things she'd been holding deep within to surge to the surface.

"Yes," she told him with suddenly urgency, realizing her mistake and panicking, forgetting her own selfish reservations and stupid need to be in control. "Yes I still love you, how would I ever stop?" She'd been so inside her head she hadn't even thought about how it would come across to him—even more ashamed of herself and how shortsighted she was, how egotistical, she shut her eyes hard. She hadn't given his feelings the thought they deserved. "I'm sorry, I just—what I put you through this week, I'm too embarrassed to even face myself let alone you," she confessed wretchedly.

She heard Cas step closer and opened her eyes. He seemed so relieved but timid, wanting to reach out to her but hesitating. She knew it was because of Glen, and because of how Alex had mostly been rejecting Cas's touches. But he still chanced it, gently letting his hand rest against her hair at the side of her head. The touch was enough to break her completely. "Don't be embarrassed," he said, and his voice was thick with emotion and comfort. "I love you."

His confession set her to tears. She leaned into his hand and accepted the affection because she needed it so badly, she missed him so much, and she couldn't run away from this any more. Pressing her hand over his, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly—and he chanced proximity, coming a little closer even as she stepped toward him too, letting her forehead drop to rest against the front of his shoulder. "I'm scared," she admitted in a whisper against his trench coat. "So fucking scared."

He drew back just enough to look her in the eyes, and he was so close she could feel his warm breaths hitting against her lips. "Don't be afraid," he told her solemnly, his thumb gently stroking against the hair beside her ear as he held her gaze soulfully. Her heart jumped in response to the touch and the depth in his eyes. His other hand came to cover hers, which was laying against his lapel. Without blinking or looking away, he told her in an soft, certain, steadfast voice: "I will always come back to you. I will always find you." The devotion and love in his voice overwhelmed her and she could barely fathom that those things were meant for her.

His hand slid away from hers and went down into the pocket of his trench coat—she watched curiously as he pulled something out. Whatever it was remained concealed inside his closed fist. He brought his hand up between them then showed her what he had just fished out: a shining penny on a broken silver chain. Alex looked at it then back at him—he looked at her hopefully—and she realized he was giving it back to her… forgiving her all over again for the psychopathic behavior and everything she'd said and done. Her heart twisted and clenched and flipped, hope sprung back to life, and she closed her fingers around the beloved object that she'd worn the year he'd been gone. It was a small action but they both understood what it meant, and for them, this moment was powerful and vastly meaningful.

Overwhelmed with emotions and his closeness, the love in his eyes, she tilted her chin up toward him, forgetting everything but the way everything in her wanted to reach out for him. His eyes searched hers questioningly as his eyebrows knit together anxiously. His eyes dropped to her lips as their noses brushed—his breathing hitched and his fingers slipped into her hair but he was hesitating and nervous, maybe afraid to overstep his bounds. So she closed the distance, showed him it was all right with her if it was all right with him… she brushed her lips against his just barely—and when she invited the kiss, he accepted, moving forward. A soft muffled sound of relief came from the base of Alex's throat as their lips pressed together—it was the sweetest sensation in all of creation—the gentle, tender press of his mouth to hers, the unspoken sentiments conveyed through the simple touch. Her hands went to either side of his face—Cas made the quietest little sound of surprise and anxiety—her necklace threaded through her fingers as she almost sobbed at the gentle, careful, heartfelt way he kissed and held her. His nose pressed into her cheek, his hand cradled the back of her head and it was just like she remembered… only better. She breathed him in, melting into his arms. For a minute, all of her doubts and fears seemed stupid and silly, and instead of thinking about all the things they were up against, she was remembering how strong they were together. How right this was… how wrong she was to have ever believed they shouldn't be together. He was where she belonged, and she remembered now. She remembered. Their foreheads rested against the other when the kiss ended and her eyes stayed closed. She felt him shift slightly and he pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. Her mouth turned upwards in a helpless little smile.

Alex pulled away a little bit to look at him. His eyes went upward again, and she knew he was being called, but was delaying departure for her sake. "How long will this war last?" she asked. Balthazar had said it could go on forever, essentially. And she got that the war was to prevent the apocalypse from restarting, she understood that Cas was fighting for the right side, but the thought of it never ending was so scary.

Cas shook his head, troubled. "Not much longer… but I don't know. Months? A year? It's... difficult to say. Raphael will fall. I'll make sure of it."

Taking in a deep breath, Alex nodded, accepting this reality. "All right," she said, giving him a soft, genuine, torn smile as she stood a little taller, trying to be brave. This was hard and bittersweet and she was still scared of the unknown future, but she trusted him. Loved him. Believed he could do what he said: win this war and come back to her afterward. And now it was time to put aside her kid stuff and stop being so self-centered. She had to start thinking about him and his needs, too. "I'll be here when it's over," she told him, which is what she knew he needed to hear. "I'll be waiting."

His eyes softened and cleared. "I hope not for long," he said quietly, and took one of her hands in his, squeezing gently, touched and encouraged by her support and pledge to wait. She hoped the same thing—that he wouldn't be gone long—and didn't want him to go at all... but she saw how he kept looking upward with an increasingly worried expression. "I have to go," he told her regretfully, more urgent this time.

She nodded. There seemed to be a million things she wanted to say to him, ask him… but there wasn't time. So she settled for: "Be careful up there, okay?"

He met her gaze, his hand still holding hers. He didn't want to go and she could see it plainly. "Call me," he told her in utmost seriousness, his urgency making him speak in something close to desperation. "If you need me in the least, call me. I'll come. I promise." He looked upward again, as if bees were circling his head—and Alex knew the calls must be getting more pressing.

"Go, Cas," she urged gently, knowing she couldn't hold onto him right now.

He lowered his head and looked downward, seeming to realize he really did have to go now. Her hand slipped from his as he stepped back, wordless, looking at her with a sad expression. "Goodbye, Alex," he said, seeming to find the words difficult.

That sounded so final. Alex replied with something a little less dire, a sad smile on her face. "See you later, Cas."

His expression softened and he echoed her, seeming to understand. "...See you later." He seemed to like the way that sounded better. And then with the soft sound of wings in flight… he was gone.

---

Author's Notes: If you're wondering about when Cas gave Alex that penny, it hasn't been shown yet, only mentioned. The actual scene where this happens will be shown in a flashback soon.