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.

59. Not Broken

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 59 / Not Broken

"So I wait for you like a lonely house until you will see me again and live in me.
'Til then my windows ache."
- Pablo Neruda

---

Present Day

In an unremarkable motel room in Illinois they spoke in hushed whispers over the unconscious and bloody body of Sam Winchester.

Dean's found out about us and how we've been together, she told him.

But not the rest? Cas asked in veiled alarm.

She paused, knowing exactly what he was asking about. No. Not the rest.

Silent and barely acknowledged at all, it hung between them: The secret they'd kept from everyone, even themselves at times.

Alex had shed many tears the past year thinking of Castiel and those precious, too-perfect hours when they had been together and everything had been okay… when Cas had been like a human man and called her his wife. She'd woken with him at her side and her heart had yearned for all mornings to be like that. And then no other morning had been at all.

She had spent the last year despairing for him to return. And now...? Nothing felt certain anymore. Cas had barely been around since she discovered that he was, in fact, still alive. There were so many things left unsaid between the two of them, so many questions that went unanswered. Alex continued to hold her doubts and fears inside where they threatened to shatter her.

Castiel, who had at the time of their marriage thought himself a mortal man, was no longer such. He had been brought back to life by God himself. And not as a man. As an angel. He was once again ageless and immortal and forbidden to pursue Alex in a romantic sense. But his vows to her had been everlasting. No matter his species, he counted himself as her husband and was fighting this war not only to keep the apocalypse from restarting but also to find a way to permit their union, to find a way to save Alex from what he had done. Damning her soul by being physically intimate with her weighed heavily on him; the marriage had fixed nothing and he knew that now. But he had a way to remedy things and to absolve her of damnation forever—he would rewrite or rip up the celestial commandments when at last he won this war. Alex knew nothing of his discoveries or plans and he didn't want to speak of these things to her. She had enough burdens to bear. Including him. The husband who had been forced to abandon her not even half a week after he promised her everything. When she had ripped off her penny necklace in the panic room last week in a fit of insanity because of the demon blood, she'd screamed at him and said their marriage wasn't real and could never be, that he didn't love her anymore. It had cut him to his heart for her to say that. He thought he must have hurt her very greatly for her to think those things even for a second. His guilt was triplicate and his shame was plenty—he'd promised never to hurt her, and he had done just that. Unknowingly, unwittingly... repeatedly. Now, things between them seemed cracked and torn. Alex was so sad and he didn't know how to comfort her. He was sad, too, heavyhearted at the thought of the staggering difficulties facing them now. He couldn't remain at her side, and they both knew it. The war demanded much of him. Would it take more than just his efforts and strength? Would it take her, too?

Before Cas and Alex could discuss any more, Dean suddenly opened the motel door with a huge coil of rope in hand. He'd disappeared a moment or two ago and was in a distinctly foul mood. "All right, losers," he muttered peevishly, casting dark glances to both the angel and his sister as he entered, "this kid ain't gonna tie himself up."

He was talking about Sam, who he'd beaten unconscious. Alex and Cas, who had been standing close and touching, stepped apart the second Dean entered. It wasn't necessary for them to do that… he knew about them now, after all. Or he knew enough. The sour look on Dean's face suggested he had many things to say on the matter, but he remained in huffy silence for the moment.

Cas lifted Sam up off the floor as Dean uncoiled the rope angrily with great, exaggerated movements, watching both Cas and Alex hawkishly. Alex pulled out a chair from the kitchenette table, indicating that Sam be put there, and Cas followed her lead, sitting Sam's slumped form there as Alex held the chair steady. Over Sam's shoulder, Cas and Alex's eyes met and held tight with great amounts of mutual yearning. What was she thinking, Castiel wondered. Was she all right? It was impossible for him to tell—she was quiet, her expression was strained. They needed to talk, he knew they did and he glanced at Dean. Now wasn't an opportune time. Cas hoped so strongly that he would not be called away to Heaven anytime soon. He sensed that he was needed by Alex, and very much. Knowing how needed he'd been the entire past year devastated him further. If only there were a way to take back what he never could.

Dean rudely leaned down between Cas and Alex in a way that wasn't necessary and began to tie Sam's wrists tightly behind himself to the chair. Alex stepped back and Castiel did too. This greatened the distance between them. Probably just as Dean wanted. Alex's eyes were reluctant to look into Cas's now and Dean continued to restrain Sam, not saying anything. Finally, he finished tying the ropes and straightened, looking Cas dead in the eye. "We got to talk," he said, steady and controlled. But there was cold anger in his voice and eyes. And Alex was aghast he would breech this subject at all right now.

"Oh my god," she commented bitterly as she looked at her brother with a testy glare. "You cannot be serious, Dean."

"Oh I'm serious all right," he retorted churlishly.

Alex quickly grew incensed. Her voice trembled. "No. No! It's none of your business!"

Dean looked at his sister with a strange expression, as if he was displeased and confused. And Cas broke his silence, attempting to divert the brunt of Dean's oncoming verbal assault. "Dean… perhaps this isn't this time to discuss—"

"What, Cas?" Dean demanded, aiming his angry gaze at Cas now. "You screwed my sister!" Cas's face fell as he wondered how Dean could put it in such terms. And then:

Thwack! A slapping sound, Dean holding a hand to his cheek in shock, and Alex pointing a finger in his face which she had just smacked.

"Stop it." She was pissed and wounded, breathing heavy. Her anger made her speak in aggressive, clipped tones. "You're acting insane. Just stop." It looked like she might deck him for real if he tested her.

Dean stood there wordlessly, too shocked to react. And instead of blowing a fuse, instead of acting a fool, he took a moment, let his hand fall away from his reddened cheek, and pressed his mouth into a thin line. Cas and Dean exchanged a tense glance. Castiel wondered what Dean would think if he knew that they were, in fact, married. Would his anger about them 'screwing,' as he had put it, dissipate if he understood that the physical side of the relationship was part of something more sacred and profound… everlasting? Would Dean recognize and admit that Castiel truly did love Alex if he knew how they had committed themselves to one another a year ago? He had a strong feeling that Dean would be even more enraged to hear of their union. It saddened the angel, who loved the entire Winchester family and saw them as his family. He desired Dean's friendship and brotherhood, not his wrath and hostility.

Although the oldest Winchester was still clearly unhappy, his sister's reaction had put him into his place. Not very gracefully, Dean changed the subject by clearing his throat and sniffing loudly, then crossing his arms and looking at Sam darkly. "All right, so… if that's really Sam like you say, Cas—you gotta figure out what's wrong with him. Stat. Get crackin'." He stalked off further into the room to lean moodily against a low dresser.

Truthfully, Castiel would have much rather consoled Alex—he recognized that she was upset under her anger—but as he had so painfully learned recently… his desires did not have top priority. In Alex's eyes there was resignation. She had accepted that this moment was not made for them and that there were other things to address. He had to accept that, too. Reluctantly, Cas turned his attention to Sam—who he had secretly brought back. Pretending not to know seemed deeply shameful but Castiel couldn't tell them, especially now, knowing that he'd brought the middle Winchester back from the grave so much wronger than he thought. Wrong enough that Sam would let Alex fall prey to vampires without doing anything, wrong enough that Sam would put a knife to her throat. Cas would have killed anyone else who attempted such a thing upon Alex, but this was Sam. And the reason Sam wasn't himself was Castiel's fault. It was a maddening, guilt-ridden conundrum, and he felt that both Dean and Alex would be appalled to learn the truth.

Sam slumped in the chair, his broad shoulders caved forward and his still face a bloody mess from Dean's fists. "He looks terrible," Cas commented darkly, wondering how he could have made such a mistake and endangered both Dean and Alex in the process. Sam began to stir at that moment, groaning and blinking blearily as he raised his head.

"Cas? What's—" he stopped short when Cas pulled one of his eyelids back to examine his eyeball. "Get off me," he muttered, straining a little against his ropes.

"Has he been feverish?" Cas questioned, glancing at Alex. She stood off to the side and slightly behind her twin, unseen by Sam for the moment.

"Have you?" Dean asked Sam brusquely.

Disoriented and confused, sounding overly innocent, Sam stared at Cas oddly, then Dean. "No. Why?"

"Is he speaking in tongues?" Cas asked Dean, then didn't wait for an answer, looked at Sam. "Are you speaking in tongues?"

"No," Sam repeated with continuing confusion. "What are you…" his face fell. "Are you... diagnosing me?"

"You better hope he can," Dean said almost threateningly. Cas put two fingers to Sam's neck, feeling the pulse there. It was normal and steady.

Sam's face twisted as he stared at his brother. "You really think that this is—"

"What, you think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of hell wrong?! Who try and get their brother and sister killed?!" Dean fired off hotly. He walked forward, drawing himself up to his full height as if he were trying to be intimidating. "He asks, you answer, then you shut your hole. You got it?"

Chastened but a little sullen, Sam fell quiet and Cas took his fingers away from his neck.

"How much do you sleep?" the angel asked. He was beginning to form a terrible suspicion.

There was a short pause. "I don't."

Cas felt a sinking, dread-filled sensation.

"At all?" Dean asked, surprise filling his face.

"Not since I got back."

"And it never occurred to you that there might be something off about that?!" Dean asked, getting more than just angry—he seemed afraid and he looked at Alex briefly, whose stony expression gave away little—she was absolutely silent. And Castiel understood Dean's show of fear. If Sam, who appeared to have no conscience had tried to hurt his sister just today, had let her get turned into a vampire without a second thought… if this Sam shared a room with her while she slept unguarded and unaware—that was a highly dangerous and unsafe scenario. For a brief moment, Dean and Cas were united instead of divided, exchanging a loaded glance… both immediately and silently understanding how averse they were to the idea of Alex being around Sam at all right now.

"Of course it did, Dean," Sam said, then hesitated oddly. "I-I just never told you."

Dean and Cas looked at each other yet again and on a whim, Cas crossed to stand on Sam's other side now, putting himself between Alex and Sam. Sam still hadn't even seen his twin, but Castiel would take no chances. "Sam... what are you feeling now?" the angel questioned, his suspicion growing exponentially… because a human who didn't sleep at all wasn't even fully a human.

Sam scoffed sarcastically. "I feel like my nose is broken."

"No, that's a physical sensation," Cas said, growing upset internally. "How do you feel?"

Confusion was set across Sam's face. "Well, I think—"

"Feel." Castiel reiterated the word strongly. Sam blinked twice, uncertain.

"I... don't know."

Castiel took in a heavy breath and looked at Alex long and hard. Sam followed his gaze, turning his neck as far as he could. He said nothing when he saw his twin. Cas began to take his belt off, drawing three perplexed stares. "What are you...? Uh…" Sam stared as Cas approached him with the belt.

"This will be unpleasant," Castiel said, offering the belt to Sam and holding it near his mouth. "Bite down on this," he said. Wary and doubtful, Sam did. "If there's someplace that you find soothing, you should go there. In your mind." His eyes flickered to Alex, who was appearing to be absolutely shocked at what was happening. "You may find this disturbing to watch," Cas warned, more gentle when he spoke to her. He couldn't spare her from this. It had to be done.

Like he'd done with Aaron Birch, Castiel reached his hand into Sam's chest and red veins crawled up Sam's neck even as grunting cries of agony escaped through clamped teeth. Castiel felt around, trying to find Sam's soul. But there was a large void. A great nothingness. Sam continued to suffer loudly at the excruciating pain Castiel was causing him.

Alex's expression contorted and she looked away, unable to deal with her twin in pain—and the more Sam writhed and cried out, the more her face twisted in silent agony. And then it was over and Cas withdrew, his expression grim. He'd found nothing—no trace of the soul at all. Sam was left to gasp noisily as he reeled from pain, grimacing with his eyes shut. Cas took his belt back even as Alex got a glass with a shaking hand and got some water from the sink.

"Find anything?" Dean anxiously asked as Cas turned to face him.

Castiel was stony, deep in thought, trying to mentally work out how he had pulled Sam out of death without his soul too. "No. I found nothing," he said truthfully, looking back at Sam heavily.

With a strange expression, Alex stood in front of Sam and touched his shoulder with one hand, helping him take a drink of water… still displaying compassion for him even though he'd sought to harm her only moment ago before Dean had knocked him unconscious. "Thanks," Sam murmured after he gulped and sputtered some water down. He seemed exhausted and dazed, and Alex looked sad in ways that reached past her eyes. She finally let her gaze come back to Cas, anticipating his news.

"Physically, he's perfectly healthy," Cas told them all hesitantly, watching the scene with weary shoulders.

"Then what is it?" Dean asked, his dread building.

"It's his soul," Cas said, shaking his head slowly and hiding his utter horror, trying not to give away himself. "It's gone."

"...No soul?" Alex repeated in a soft, stunned voice.

Dean's face registered a mixture of shock, confusion, and doubt as he came to Cas's side. "...What do you mean, he's got no soul?"

Cas forced himself to look Dean in the eyes—not Alex, who he was especially loathe to deceive. He was lying by omission to all of them. "Somehow, when Sam was resurrected... it was without his soul."

Dean blinked, rapidly trying to understand it. "So where is it?"

Cas answered truthfully. "My guess is... still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer."

Alex paled immediately, increasing Cas's guilt tenfold.

Frustrated, Dean walked off a few steps, composing himself. "Okay, so is he even still Sam? I mean, really." Everyone looked at Sam, trying to figure out just that.

Cas in particular studied Sam sadly, wondering how he could have made such a grave mistake. "You pose an interesting philosophical question."

"So he's down there still, in a way?" Alex breathed softly, horrified.

Cas made no answer. His expression was 'yes' enough.

Dean's antsy, aghast state was getting worse. "Well, then, just get his soul outta there."

"Dean—"

"You pulled me out!" Dean reasoned, like it was that simple. He sounded afraid and confused, and Castiel understood. But...

"It took several angels to rescue you, and you weren't nearly as well guarded," Cas explained, and it wasn't a lie by any means. "Sam's soul is in Lucifer's cage. There's a difference, a big difference. It's... it's not possible." And it wasn't. If it had been, he would have tried. Devastated, Alex's sickened and worried eyes studied her twin with quiet alarm.

"Okay, well, there's got to be some way," Dean insisted, unflinchingly determined to do something. Anything.

Cas offered nothing else. Because there was nothing else to offer.

"So, are you gonna untie me?" Sam asked, getting restless.

"No," Dean said strongly and immediately, only giving his brother a brief, irritated glance.

"Listen, I'm not gonna—" Sam started.

"Sam, how the hell am I even supposed to let you out of this room?" Dean demanded, crossing the room to stand in front of Sam and glare at him. Alex drifted over toward Cas as Dean faced Sam—and while Dean wasn't looking, Cas touched her arm and silently they searched the other's gaze for a brief moment.

"Dean, I'm not some psycho," Sam was appealing, trying to sound genuine. "I didn't want you or Alex to get hurt. I was just trying to stop the vamps, I was just trying to keep myself safe."

"Are you high?" Dean exploded. "You aren't some psycho? Well excuse me but seems all kinds of psycho from where I'm sitting to let your family get turned into monsters and then hold your own sister at knife point!"

Sam sighed like he was irritated. "I'm sorry," he said impatiently, trying to say what Dean wanted to hear. "It won't ever happen again. Please let me go."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked both cynical and genuine at once. "'It won't ever happen again'? Seriously? That's all you got?"

"Well, what are you gonna do, just keep me locked up in here forever?" Sam asked, growing snide.

Dean raised his eyebrows fractionally. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Okay, fine, look, I get it." Sam was putting on his best performance, but traces of contempt and irritation showed through. "I get it, Dean. I was wrong. But I'm telling you I-I'm trying to get right. It's still me."

"Is it?" Dean asked frostily—he was unconvinced.

"Yes. So just let me go."

Dean's expression didn't even flicker. "No way in hell."

"Dean, maybe we can just—" Alex started, and her tone seemed to set Dean off. He whirled.

"Alex, no! You're psycho too if you're just gonna let him have another chance!" He ranted with incensed animation, using his hands a lot. "First Sam throws you to vamps, then he uses you as a human shield—call me crazy but I don't wanna go for third time's the charm in this situation!"

Alex said nothing, but her eyes showed conflict. The room went silent.

Impatient, Sam sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this," he said reluctantly—and then he stood easily, having worked out the restraints Dean had tied around him.

"Nice knots, dumbass," Alex muttered to Dean, who shot her a dirty look. Next to her, Cas had drawn himself up protectively and regarded Sam carefully.

"You're not gonna hold me, Dean," Sam said calmly, pulling the ropes off his wrists completely and then fixing his brother with a pointed stare. "Not here, not in a panic room, not anywhere. You two're stuck with the soulless guy, so you might as well work with me." He set them with a determined look. "Let's fix this."

"Do you wanna be fixed?" Alex asked uncertainly.

Sam glanced at her and mulled the question over for a quick second, then nodded once. "Yeah. I think so."

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, shaking his head, undecided even though what he said seemed decisive enough. "You listen to me. I'm not 'stuck' with you, all right? You may be my brother but it ain't just you and me in this." He lowered his voice, seething. "I got a good mind to leave after the stunts you pulled."

Sam nodded, taking it in stride. "Understandable."

"But you're my brother and I'll be damned if I don't find a way to fix this for us," Dean declaring in a wavering voice. He wet his lips, becoming intense and deadly. "So this is the deal, and listen up, cuz I'm not gonna repeat myself." He paused, going closer to Sam. "I'm gonna be watching every damn move you make," he threatened, getting in Sam's face. "You go within ten feet of our sister without my permission and it's adios. Any more crap like that vampire shit and that human-shield shit and it's over, Sam, you hear me? You touch her, you so much as look at her wrong and you're done." He paused. "And we ain't sharing motel rooms anymore, either."

"Fine," Sam said, nodding. "Sounds about right to me."

Dean looked his brother over in mistrustful unease. "Cas, clean him up."

Cas obliged, coming forward and touching Sam on the forehead. All in an instant, it was gone: his broken nose, contusions, bruises, and all the blood.

"All right, if we're gonna figure out what happened to your soul, then we need to find who yanked you out," Dean said, pacing a little further back in the room and frowning harshly. "You say you don't know?"

"No idea."

"Then we start a list," Dean said, looking to Cas. "If it's so hard to spring someone out of the box, then who's got that kind of muscle?"

"I don't know," Castiel lied, ashamed of himself the entire time and trying to conceal it. He looked at Sam carefully, avoiding Alex's anxious gaze. "You have no memory of your resurrection?" Did Sam remember, at all, that it had been Castiel who had pulled him up from the cage?

Sam shrugged. "I woke up in a field. That's all I got."

"No clues?" Cas pressed. "None?"

Sam thought for a second then conceded. "I've got one. Samuel came back same time as I did, pretty much. I say we go see if he's got a soul or not. Maybe he can point us in the direction of whatever big bad brought me back."

Dean was already pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Yeah. Good," he said. "Lemme call Samuel, see where he is." He retreated further into the room and as he talked on the phone, Alex took hold of Cas's forearm at his side, looking up at him anxiously.

"Can you stay a little while?" she asked in a whisper, gazing up into his eyes with wavering hopefulness. Her request touched him strangely, leaving a feeling of warmth underneath his ribs, a feeling of longing deep in his chest.

Cas glanced at Dean, who was still talking loudly on his phone, then his eyes came back at Alex, who waited for his answer. "Yes," he replied softly. "I'll stay." He needed to. There were still many things between them left unsaid. Alex nodded, mildly relieved.

Sam scoffed at the two of them briefly. Castiel returned the gaze sidelong… knowing that this situation was his fault. Discouraged, Cas looked downward, hearing Dean ending his phone call as he did. "Samuel's back at his compound, three hours from here," he reported, grabbing his jacket and pulling a bag up off the floor. He was short on temper. "Let's go."

"I thought he was supposed to still be looking for Jamie," Alex said, both a little surprised and angry.

"Said he couldn't find her," Dean said tersely, tossing another duffel bag at Sam and sparing his sister only a brief, hooded glance. "And anyway, we got bigger problems right now."

"Now? We're leaving right now?" Alex asked dubiously.

"Yeah, I ain't sitting around to figure this out," Dean said gruffly, heading for the door. Sam followed as Alex and Cas glanced at each other wordlessly, communicating non-verbally.

"Dean, uh…" Alex began, and Cas heard how nervous she was. Dean had stopped, hand on the door, expression expectant in a way that seemed rude. Cas spoke in Alex's silence so that whatever anger Dean felt would be directed at him instead. He walked forward slightly, putting himself closer to Dean than Alex was.

"We'll meet you there," he said firmly, leaving no room for protests. "Call me when you reach your destination. I need to speak with Alex. Privately."

Dean's face took on a strange look and his eyebrows rose, eyes narrowing. A little, humorless smile crossed his face. "Oh, talk huh?" he asked, then chuckled derisively, drawing something out of his wallet to throw it angrily at Cas, who caught it just barely. "Use a condom this time." Cas frowned down at the little foil square Dean had lobbed at him. What was this?

"Dean!" Alex exclaimed, appalled at her brother, who was leaving in an angry state, too fed up to put up a fight.

When Dean slammed the door behind them without anything further, the bedside lamplight flickered weakly, like the force of the door closing had done something to it. The room fell silent except for the buzz buzz of the lamp.

"What is this thing?" Cas asked, looking at the strange packet Dean had thrown and turning it over in his hand. He could feel, under the foil, the distinct shape of a circle raised around the edges.

Alex was entirely disgruntled and crossed her arms, not looking Cas in the eye. She stared at the little packet instead sullenly. "Protection."

"How could this possibly be a weapon?" Cas asked, mystified. And why would Dean insist this was necessary for a conversation?

"No—" Alex said, smiling suddenly, just a little, despite how sad she looked. "Protection against pregnancy. It's contraception."

Oh. Castiel understood now and raised his eyes to Alex's, which met his hesitantly.

Outside, the Impala's engines started and they could hear the tires squeal angrily against the pavement. Alex's eyes slid to that sound and her misery was palatable. Now that they were alone, Cas didn't feel the need to stand away from her. He chanced going closer. Before, he would have taken her into his arms without a second thought, but now, always on the edge of his mind, was a fear of overstepping his bounds. So he hovered nearby, wanting to hold her but feeling afraid to take the chance. The lamp Dean had disturbed kept flickering weakly, making the room dimmer than it had been before.

Cas indicated the packet Dean had thrown at him. He knew what to say about this, at least, now that he knew what it was. "This isn't necessary," he told her somewhat distractedly, setting it down on the dresser beside himself. "I know you've started menstruating again this year, but I'm an angel. I have control over conception." Alex seemed surprised and Cas paused. It must be strange for her how he knew about her menstrual cycle. A man wouldn't know that. But Castiel wasn't a man, he was an angel, and he knew things with just a glance that no one else could. He peered at her closer, abruptly noticing something else. "Your tongue is hurt," he said, stepping a little closer. There was a puncture deep enough to have drawn blood.

"I bit it," she said vaguely. "I was about to tell Dean about our… the…" she couldn't seem to say the word 'marriage', and for reasons unknown, Castiel felt that familiar sinking feeling inside. She had wounded herself to keep their union hidden and she couldn't say aloud what they had done. Why?

"Let me heal you," he offered quietly. She hesitated then nodded, letting him touch her face to heal her. At the touch of his hand, he saw how she was emotionally affected, and he thought, if possible, his heart went out to her. When he had healed her, she put a hand over his and their hands stayed there at her cheek. Anxious gazes held steady and Castiel didn't know where to start. He thought of how many questions she must have, how many things he wanted to know. How much time had been lost, how many secrets and horrible things he was keeping from her. How angry Dean was with them right now. How Alex had hurt herself purposefully to keep from telling him their secret. It wasn't worth that—surely they could explain it to him? Cas paused, thinking hard, trying to decide the right thing. "I should talk to your brother about this," Cas said heavily, searching her eyes, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "Us."

Her eyebrows moved together a little. "Can we talk about us first?" She laced her fingers through his and pulling his hand down, letting their hands remain entwined between them. The look on her face alerted him to her inner turmoil. The tone in her voice let him know that she was very upset about something. The bedside lamp kept flickering like it was dying out.

"Of course," Cas agreed apprehensively. "What is it you would like to discuss?" He wanted so badly to hold her but he did not move at all. A paranoid feeling grew that he would only make things worse, because making things worse was all he ever seemed to do. His question of what did she want to discuss seemed to overwhelm her and she couldn't find words, though she tried.

Neither of them seemed to know what to do or say and Cas was in a pain beyond the physical. She was close, but not close enough, and he was left aching and hoping. "Is it all right... if I hold you?" he asked, voice awash in apprehension. Should he feel so full of trepidation to ask her that? She looked as though she might crumble when he asked that and he recognized the answer yes in her eyes before she even moved—moved forward to him. He met her and put his arms around her, felt her circle her arms around his middle, inside his trench coat and inside his suit jacket. Her face buried in his chest. Every cell that was Castiel breathed her name in anxiety and relief altogether, and the rigid uncertainty from a moment ago softened then fluttered away like a petal on the wind.

The war in Heaven, the secrets he kept from her, the things he was doing to try and right the wrongs he'd committed… it all faded away and he didn't think of those things. He thought of this and of her. Here, she was safe with him and he could feel her warmth like the sun, he could smell her familiar scent of soap, sweat, and shampoo. Here, she fit in his arms perfectly and he could protect her forever and things could be as they were before. It was so intense, the sensation that welled within him to have her in his arms again. And then he realized she was shaking. Crying. And the relief faded into alarm.

He drew back, holding her arms and looking into her face, trying to see what was wrong. Her eyes were shiny with tears and her features showed heartbreaking amounts of pain. He thought of asking Alex aloud what was wrong, but he already knew that everything was. Sam, soulless. Dean, angry. Himself, absent. Her life, scattered to the wind. "Do you think Sam will ever be okay again?" Alex asked, her eyes silently cajoling him to reassure her. "Will he ever be my Sam again?"

Oh Alex—her heartache was yet again his fault. As much as Castiel wanted to tell her yes, he couldn't lie purposefully about that to her. "I don't know," he said, guilt-ridden. Alex would despise him if she knew—that he was working with Crowley and using Sam and Samuel to open Purgatory. But when Cas accomplished these things, Heaven would be secured, free will would reign, and the two of them could be together without fear of consequence. Surely she would forgive him when he told her at last the things he'd done and why? He would tell her, when he was able. If only that time was now. But it wasn't.

"I try and act strong but it's not working," she confessed quietly, seeming so unlike herself in that moment. "I don't understand."

"About Sam?" Cas asked weakly, taking her sadness and mentally adding it to the rest of the things that were his fault.

"About anything." She was mostly composed now but still emotionally raw. "This may be a dumb question but… when we…" she hesitated and wet her lips self-consciously, "got, got married, you were… human. Or a lot more like one than you are now. Now that you're… an angel again… what does that mean for us?"

Cas frowned a little, trying to understand what she wanted to know. "What do you mean?"

Whatever she was about to ask caused her great reluctance and dread. "Just… has anything changed?"

Her question startled him. "Why would it?" Cas asked, quickly becoming confused and worried—did she think that because he had been restored to his Seraph state that the vows he'd made were null and void? From the way her eyes searched his so anxiously, he thought so and it alarmed him. "Nothing has changed, Alex," Cas said, his confidence wavering as he looked into her ambivalent gaze. "Not for me."

Great insecure sorrow welled in Alex's eyes. "But you're ageless and I'm mortal. You're stuck in Heaven, I'm here on earth. We were apart for a year and it almost destroyed me." Her words were devastating blows. She faltered, eyes unable to meet his. Her hand in his was loose, not holding fast. "Things… things just aren't what they were before between us."

Cas was silent and taken aback, hurt by her words because they were true—the moment she said them, he couldn't deny it. And not only was he hurt, but he was suddenly afraid. Had she slipped from his grasp already? Had she fallen away from him? Had the hurt inflicted by his absence done irreparable damage? As his alarm heightened and the silence stretched out, Alex became distressed too. "Say something, Cas," she breathed in a strained voice, begging him.

"I… I don't know what to say," Cas confessed starkly, feeling a cloying and terrifying sense of finality settling over him. He was out of his element, he was drowning in emotional helplessness—how could he fix this? Was she telling him, indirectly, that she hadn't the strength to continue with him in this? His uncertainty only served to further defeat Alex, who looked down, eyebrows pressing together as gaunt sadness etched over her features. Even though she was close to him, she was far away in a way he couldn't describe and Cas's insides writhed painfully in the vicinity of his chest.

"Did… did we make a mistake, Cas?" she asked in a weak voice, looking at him with eyes that broke him. "It didn't feel like a mistake. Not then. But now… I don't know."

It felt as though he were being stabbed through the chest and Castiel sank down to sit on the bed just behind him, staring at her in abject, shocked defeat. She thought they had made a mistake? How could it have been a mistake? He remembered watching as she walked to him dressed in white. That day, he'd been a real man because the heart inside his chest hadn't been just an organ of tissue. It had been a thing made of dreams and hopes and love. She'd made it that way. How had that precious bond between them become so broken and frayed? Was it even possible to repair? His emotions were so wretched and desperate that they affected him physically, sending pain throughout his body. His chest hurt, his stomach hurt, his arms hurt. His eyes stung as if they were burning.

His thoughts were interrupted when two arms circled around his neck. Alex stood between his knees and hugged him, a hand cradling his head as she bowed her head down to him. "I'm sorry," she choked out, lips by his ear, apologizing not just with words but with the way she held him and touched him. "I don't feel sure about anything right now—I'm exhausted and I talk without thinking and everything is so bad right now… it's not your fault, it's just me being stupid, I'm sorry…" he felt her trembling hand stroking his hair—and he looked up at he, hearing how his heart pounded in his ears. She was upset and he needed to comfort her, but he felt as though he were incapable of doing anything at the moment. The bedside lamp flickered again, abruptly gave a little buzzing pop, then went out completely, leaving the room dark except for moonlight. Cas looked toward the lamp just slightly, dazed.

"I guess all things burn out eventually," Alex murmured, sounding so sad. Cas didn't think she was talking about the lamp. Cool silver moonlight filtering in through the blinds making the dark room seem smaller and more intimate.

Hearing how forlorn she was gave him a surge of strong conviction. "Not all things," he insisted softly and anxiously, and he chanced touching her, resting his hands on either side of her waist, trying to tell her without words that unlike that lamp, his feelings for her would not fizzle out or break… he wanted another chance despite the great odds against them to be with her, to love her, to live up to what he'd promised. She turned her attention back to him and petted the side of his head. In the darkness, her eyes were full and searched his with growing earnest longing and worry.

"Please don't be upset Cas," she begged, taking in his pained expression. "I shouldn't have asked you if it was a mistake."

"Of course I'm upset," he replied immediately, his face and voice showing how much so. He knew exactly what he'd done and was beginning to understand why she was questioning everything, even him. "I gave you reason to doubt me. I left you alone. I've hurt you. I've left you uncertain about our union." Miserable facts Castiel could barely face. He should have known better, he should have known that an angel could never be what a human needed. That he would never fully understand how to navigate the treacherous waters of emotion. That he would do nothing but squander her love and affection and let her down no matter how hard he tried to fulfill her needs.

Her eyes were shining with unbearable emotion. "I'm not uncertain," she said, voice thick and soft. She sounded braver than she had before… and somehow, it just made him feel worse to hear how willing she was to overlook what he'd done. "If you're not," she continued, "then I'm not either."

He tilted his head to the side, shaking it a little in a silent no. He knew many things, but most of all he knew he would never be free of the hold she had over him and the way his heart and mind clung fast to her in every instant of every day. "I'm not uncertain about you," he confessed, but it wasn't without heaviness. "How could I ever be?" But he had so many regrets about how things had unfolded. "I wanted us to be something else than what we are right now," he confessed, feeling selfish and dizzy pain in his throat and chest. "I made so many mistakes with you, Alex, how can you ever forgive me? I hurt you. All that I have ever done is hurt you."

"No," she disagreed with soft eyes and an earnest tone. "That's not all you've ever done."

Memories of the beautiful moments they had shared together flashed across his mind and he remembered her smile, her laughter, their friendship, their bond beyond the physical. The way he'd always felt at rest with her, at peace. He longed to recapture what they'd been, he was terrified of the thought that perhaps it had been broken beyond repair. She was right in front of him and so beautiful and real, moonlight making her seem more enchanting than what seemed possible. Her expression was full of trepidation. "All I want is for us to be together again," she confessed in a wavering whisper. Castiel's heart clenched, twisted, and broke from relief at her words and the look in her eyes, the way she drew a little closer to him. "That's all I want," she repeated, trying to convince him.

But he needed no convincing. He believed her. And the way she was studying him made him restless with need. He realized he was pulling her a little closer to himself, that every muscle in his body was straining toward her but also hesitating. Waiting. She drifted closer to him, her eyes asking him before her lips did. "Kiss me," she requested in a husky, anxious whisper. His stomach jumped (a physical impossibility, but he felt it all the same) even as she leaned closer, her nose brushing his as her hands cupped the side of his face. "Just forget everything and kiss me right now."

He couldn't deny her for even a second, he didn't stop to think it through or examine it with logic. He simply did as she asked, meeting her waiting lips with his in a gentle kiss they both let out a soft sound at. Never, not ever would he get used to the sensation of her mouth on his. He tightened his arms tenderly around her even as she pressed against him and they mutually deepened the kiss. Her fingers tightened in his hair. He groaned lowly, because the kiss unleashed a feeling of hunger and need that he had forgotten for a year—but it came barreling back over him immediately, his veins pounded faster with heated blood that yearned for her. He couldn't hold back on the fervor he felt, the utter despair for her. They kissed each other with not just mouths but with bodies and he ran a hand through her soft, loose hair as she whimpered and slid closer, straddling his lap with folded legs, laving his mouth with kisses that were intense and full of need that he recognized in himself. His body strained to be as close as possible to her, and as a result, their passion only deepened and grew more intense, more demanding.

Her plush lips and hot tongue sent currents of impossible, tight warmth rising throughout his body as her little whimpers drove him to insanity. He moaned faintly, overwhelmed by physical sensations of her against him like this—he'd forgotten how heady and overwhelming she was, how right it felt to be in her arms, how one touch from her was his downfall and weakness. Even though his body craved more, his mind hesitated. What about how he had damned her soul, doing exactly this? He planned to rewrite the celestial commandments when he gained the power of the purgatory souls, but until then—should he refrain from intercourse with her? Concern for her well-being worried him, causing him to regretfully pull away a little and tilt his chin down. He couldn't risk her soul. She sought his lips, not understanding that he was trying to end the kiss. He pulled away further, his heart hammering painfully. "We shouldn't," he murmured, not sure how to explain it to her and also worrying about the last time she'd been touched sexually. What if Cas's touches made her think of the man who had assaulted her?

Alex, frozen, looked absolutely confused. "Why not?" Cas faltered. He couldn't tell her the shameful, terrifying truth… how what he'd done had cost her Heaven and put her name into the book of Hell… it was too awful to say. He looked down, trying to think of some excuse. Alex, meanwhile, was growing more and more wounded. "Why do you not want to?" she asked softly, her arms loosening and her body shrinking away from him just a little. The worry in her voice made his eyes jump to hers.

"It's not that I don't want to," he told her and swallowed, shifting a little, uncomfortable because his body was already aroused to the point of pain. But fear of eternal damnation made him continue to hesitate. He tried to reassure her feebly. "I do want to, very much so..."

Confusion continued to fill her crestfallen face. "Then what? What aren't you telling me?" She spoke more and more slowly, fear creeping into her eyes. She still sat on him, but her body didn't press into his anymore. She seemed hurt, disconcerted, upset, unsure of how to respond to what he'd said. What irony it was: he'd hurt her… yet again. Castiel's shoulders slumped. And then Alex seemed ashamed, no longer looked at him. "It's because I cheated on you, isn't it?"

His eyebrows rose, then furrowed. "Cheated?" He repeated, surprised. Wasn't that a slang term for being unfaithful? He saw how much she blamed herself for something he never would, and protective love swelled within him, prompting him to circle his arms around her with renewed conviction. "Beloved," he breathed anxiously, the first time he had ever used a term of endearment. He moved a hand to sweep some hair behind her ear as Alex's eyes jumped to his. "You did nothing wrong," he implored, wishing she would believe him. Pain tightened his voice at the thought of that man violating her in any way. And then he thought of how, if he hadn't left her side, it never would have happened at all. "I'm the one who went against what I vowed," he reasoned sadly. He remembered promising wherever you go, I will go. And for an entire year, she'd been alone, mourning him. He was a liar, a hypocrite. He was the unfaithful one.

She was resolute despite her pain. It made him love her even more. "You didn't have a lot of choice about leaving. I know that now."

Cas looked at her sadly, wishing things could be done differently, wishing he could take her grief from her. "And does knowing lessen your pain?" he asked softly. His question made her lips part open a little, made her eyes shinier. They were both silent for a moment, and Castiel decided that he should tell her. Not everything, but one thing at least. However, it was very difficult to tell her this, and he hesitated, his voice darkening. "I... found out something very terrible this year."

Apprehension filled her features and she hesitated, maybe dreading what he was going to say. "W-what?"

Castiel looked down, shamefaced. "I already knew that angels and humans were forbidden to engage in sexual relations, but I didn't know the punishment." He raised his eyes to hers, mournful to know he'd defiled her soul itself in the eyes of Heaven. "I learned that any human who sins with an angel is to be cast out of Heaven. Damned for eternity." Her eyebrows rose in mild surprise. Cas continued to explain, but carefully, not telling her all the details. "I went to Hell and removed your name from the book. You can be sure I will never allow it back in there." He gazed upon her fully, wishing things could be different, wishing they could be together physically without consequence. "I will find a way to allow us an exception from the laws of Heaven, but until then… I'm very afraid to risk your eternal fate for fleeting pleasure."

Digesting the information, Alex paused, looking at him with great concern. "And what happens to the angel?"

For a fraction of a second, Castiel didn't know what she was asking. Then he realized she was asking what punishment had been prescribed to him. "Cast into exile," he answered, surprised at how calmly she was taking the news, how her first reaction was to ask about his fate. If Raphael won this war, Castiel would be cast out of Heaven and stripped of his wings. Alex would never know Paradise. Only Hell. And Castiel would not allow that to happen, ever.

"I don't understand," she said earnestly. "Isn't it... kinda already too late for us to avoid all that?" She paused, slightly bashful and rueful. "Many times over?"

Memories of their most intimate moments traveled across his mind, making him swallow a little. She had a point, maybe, but still he resisted, wanting to find some way to protect her from all things… even himself. Irrationally, he thought perhaps if he stopped them now, perhaps the damage could be lessened. Even as he thought about that, he realized how foolish and illogical it was. The damage had been done... and wouldn't withholding himself from her only serve to damage things even more?

Her eyes studied him with a strange empathy and concern as she thought long and hard. "I didn't realize how much was riding on you winning this war," she said softly, brushing some of his hair back from his forehead. Cas's eyes locked onto hers in surprise at her statement—she seemed to know him. To see his struggles and the weight he carried. "It's too much for one man's—" she caught herself "—angel—'s shoulders." She was touching the side of his face and searching his eyes. The vast amounts of love and worry in her eyes humbled him. "How are you doing all of this and not falling apart?" She was the only one who had ever asked him such a thing, or to express concern about his inner well-being as far as the war. Her question struck a part of him he hadn't explored—the side of him that was stressed and burdened past capacity, the portion of him that couldn't bear even one more responsibility or hardship.

How was he doing all of this and not falling apart? "I don't know," he answered honestly, not confident. He felt stripped of all pretense, smaller than he actually was, oddly bare. But he was resolute despite his feelings. He had to be. "It's because I have no other choice," he told her, and he was grim, knowing his role as a soldier and commander. "I will do anything to win this war. Anything." His voice softened as he thought of why he fought. "To keep you safe. To fix what I destroyed."

She studied him with that brave, somber expression a little longer. "We're not broken." Her words were like water to a man who had wandered the desert. He wanted to believe her, he could see how she wanted to believe, as well—her face was filled with so much wretched hope, like she wanted him, was afraid to be hurt again, but was flinging herself into his arms again haphazardly, chancing everything in favor of loving him. And it occurred to Castiel how inescapable and imprisoning their love was, to both of them. How it was as unrelenting and certain as the grave—it was all too late to turn back. His face must have shown uncertainty, because Alex leaned a little closer, beseeching him. "Show me we're not," she whispered pleadingly and looked him in the eye. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then flickered to his eyes, then back to his lips and she kissed him cautiously, softly, slowly—oh, how she tempted him with that single action. She drew back a little, breathing out, her warm breath fanning across his lips. It was dangerous to kiss like this, but Castiel was aching and he gave in, telling himself just to kiss her once more.

He sought another kiss, his body reacting predictably at the sensual touching of lips. He drew back just slightly, trying to recover, keeping his eyes closed, but she followed him, kissing him again, hands now on either side of his face, body pushing in against his. A low sound tore out of Castiel's vocal chords as he opened his mouth to hers and drove the kiss deeper. It was maddening, this heavy, passionate, frustrated kiss they were torturing themselves with. He felt her familiar curves against him through the layers of their clothing and his hands and his mouth remembered them faintly, pleading to know them again—he was growing breathless and dazed by desire—but he found it within himself to resist and he stopped the kiss, resolving to end this temptation. But the second he pulled away, he was going back to her again helplessly with renewed fervor—he needed just a little more, and then a little more, and then a little more still—and the kiss became frantic, Cas's breathing grew noisy and ragged through his mouth and nose as Alex whimpered for him and pressed herself against him.

His hand grasped her waist and pulled her closer as Alex covered his hand in hers and moved it for him—she slid it up to cover the softness of her breast. They both moaned faintly at the feeling and Alex pressed her hand over Cas's so that he cupped the soft flesh covered by fabric. Cas was left in a stupor of feverish longing. "Ahh—Alex—it's—we shouldn't—" he panted, wanting to have the strength to stop them while hoping she would give him reason to continue.

"I don't care," she replied in a voice thick with urgency and need, and now she moved his hand down and underneath her shirt and back up to touch her again—this time only the cotton of her bra stood in the way, and Cas groaned as his eyebrows slammed together and his eyes screwed shut.

"I've damned us both," he protested tightly, his fingertips against the compelling softness of her breast. His strength wavered and waned dangerously.

She seemed to accept the sentence, eager to sin with him all over again—she used their hands to push her bra cup aside—then rubbed his palm against the exposed peaking nipple there and they both gaspingly moaned, powerless at each other. "Cas—" she breathed his name out pleadingly, a single word laced with begging desire, need, love, desperation and he couldn't resist—he heard how much she needed him. And he needed her too. Groaning loudly, Castiel crashed his lips to hers again and pulled hard on the bra, ripping it in half down the middle in his haste to touch her more.

As he pressed his hand against the luscious weight and warmth of her bare breast underneath her shirt, she moved her hand down his body to touch him in a place that inspired Cas to make a very loud and pleasureful exhale—he'd forgotten, he'd forgotten how this felt. "Alex—" he protested miserably, because he wanted it and so did she—but he was still so afraid of causing further damage to her, he was so afraid of failing to win this war.

When she drew back a little and looked at him with wide-open eyes, the beginnings of rejection showing in her flushed, breathless face… Cas knew he couldn't refuse her. Not now. All of his fail-safes were shattered, all of his protests were forgotten, and he resolved to give her what she so clearly desired. He had damned them both and now he would damn them all over again in the sweetest sin that existed—and victory would be his in this war. It had to be. He caved in completely and kissed her again, pushing his reservations away. He did not allow them to interrupt again. He let himself feel every sensation, let himself touch and be touched, let the fire between them grow hotter and hotter, tried to put every ounce of love and devotion he had stored away in her name into what he did next.

He gathered her in his arms and lifted her, turned them, then laid her down onto the bed and pressed himself down over her carefully as she wrapped him in herself. She made the most beautiful sounds as his kisses and touches made the inferno they'd lit rage even more. His shoes were kicked off to tumble down to the floor, then her boots followed. Her shirt, his coat and jacket, his tie, his shirt, his pants, her jeans, her ruined bra—all piled up one after the other on the floor, discarded without a second thought.

Cas murmured that he loved her against the side of her neck, Alex was crying out and gasping as he touched her between spread legs with fingers that hadn't forgotten how to make her see stars. Her obvious mounting bliss was the greatest eroticism to Castiel, who wanted her to know ecstasy over and over. She was so beautiful like this—flushed by pleasure and short of breath with eyes dark and heavy-lidded, mouth open in a silent call for a kiss which he eagerly gave. Her hand slid down his chest and stomach and touched him through the thin fabric of his boxers and he shuddered, amazed at the feeling that her touch brought to him, amazed at how trusting she was, how ready she was. He was ready, too.

She pushed his last article of clothing away and he helped her, bracing himself onto all fours over her. He got out of his boxers in an ungraceful stumble, almost falling sideways—clothing was very inconvenient at times. Cas heard her laugh so softly when he canted sideways—and his heart lurched in delight at the sound, he looked at her and saw how relaxed, how happy, how beautiful she was—and he loved her and wanted her all the more, pulling her underwear off with too great of enthusiasm and ripping them in his super-human strength hands by accident. She only bit her lip, holding back a fond smile and what sounded like another laugh. He opened his mouth to apologize, then stopped, noticing something that gave him abrupt pause. Her stomach scars were gone—he'd noticed that before, and knew it was from when he had healed her so hurriedly after Nandriel, a few months ago. But now he realized that wasn't all that had been healed. He hadn't expected this.

"Alex…" he said, voice rising in slight alarm.

"They're just underwear, Cas, don't worry," she said, craning her neck up to kiss him.

"No, it's—I…" he swallowed, tried to think how to say it. "You're a virgin."

"Uh..." She paused, looking at him strangely, almost amused. "Pretty sure I'm not."

Castiel was embarrassed that he hadn't noticed before. He tried to explain the best he could. "When I healed you so hurriedly a few months ago, I must have… healed everything."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh." She thought about it for a minute, then a rueful little smile came over her face. "Well…" she was smiling more now, eyes soft, reflective, affectionate. "...Then I guess this can be the first time you always wanted us to have."

His heart lurched with tenderness. He looked at her anxiously. "Are you sure?" He asked, feeling something lodged in his throat.

Her face softened. "You know I am." She watched the way his face worked and then her expression flickered, her eyes filling with so much deep emotion and the sheen of tears. She touched the side of his face, letting her thumb brush against his jaw. Her voice was just a whisper now. "I trust you, Cas. I want this." The most beautiful words she could say, words he didn't deserve, words that must have taken so much courage to speak after how he'd violated her trust so thoroughly this year. She kissed him then, melting him all over, easing his anxiousness. He could feel how she loved him, how she wanted him, and his apprehension faded. This time could be different. Better. This time, he knew what to do.

Her hands grasped his forearms, she watched as he lowered himself over her, he noticed how her breathing hitched when their chests touched. He searched her eyes deeply in the dark, poised to make them one again. His body strained for her. But he waited. "Ready?" he asked softly.

She nodded just a little and told him mmhmm in a murmur, her eyes holding his as he shifted and wrapped his arms around her more closely—cradling her carefully and then moving his hips forward until he bluntly nudged at her. Their eyes clung and their breathing came shallowly.

Castiel was gentle and careful, going as slowly as possibly, not focused on himself, but on her. Alex breathed out loudly as he first slid inside even as Cas shuddered at the sensation he hadn't felt in a year—it was almost like it was the first time he was feeling this, that's how incredible it felt to gently dive deeply in until he could go no further. Overwhelmed with love, he bent to kiss her forehead lingeringly then let his forehead rest against hers as he tried to control his staggered breathing. Cas looked at her in both absolute bliss, then saw how her eyes were filling with tears. Sudden concern skyrocketed.

She saw his worry and shook her head a little. Emotion wrecked her features. "God I love you, Cas—" she confessed and hugged him tightly, fingers digging into his skin as she hid her face in his shoulder.

"Am I hurting you?" Cas asked anxiously. It had been a long time—perhaps this was causing her discomfort.

She shook her head and turned her head toward him, her nose pushing into the side of his neck. "No, it doesn't hurt. Just… tell me it won't always be like this," she choked out in a whisper, holding onto him as if she thought he was going to fall away. He felt how she was quivering with tears. "Everything in the world against us… everything gone wrong." She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. "Tell me we'll be all right someday," she begged hoarsely. "I need you in my life."

Her words struck terror into him and an urgent need to comfort her. Not knowing what else to do, he whispered that he would always be in her life, that everything would be better someday and he kissed her achingly, cradling her head in one of his hands. He had to make it all right, he had to. When their mouths came apart, Alex gave a frustrated sound and rocked her hips against him even as she wrapped her legs and arms around him, pulling him in even deeper than he thought possible. Shocks of euphoric physical pleasure shot through Cas. Alex was whispering for him to take her, oh god please Cas take me. He moaned breathlessly at her words and put his arms around her tightly, letting their bodies press down into the bed as he made love to her for all he was worth.

She was lost in bliss the same as him, her every touch and movement seeming to tell him silently I love you I need you I love you I need you. It was desperate and earnest this thing they were doing to each other, it was fervent and impassioned and Castiel was overpowered by her in every way. Without a single word leaving her mouth, only incoherent, wanton sounds, Castiel understood that she was nearing the crescendo and he rushed to help her reach it by doubling his efforts. She moaned his name anxiously and clung to him tightly then trembled like an earthquake in his arms as she began to fall apart and reach utter ecstasy. It spelled his downfall to see and feel her like that—and Cas groaned her name and tightened his hands on her. He was thrown headlong into exploding stars, he was helpless and nothing, just flesh and blood and hers. He heard someone crying out in surprise and pleasure, then realized it was himself. His body spasmed and seized as the apex controlled him and drained him, shook him to his core—they held onto each other as they were wrecked by delirious, ravishing pleasure. And then it was over and they were left to pant in the quiet, dark room as the comedown began.

Alex gave a soft, crying sound and Castiel touched her head, her face, holding her worshipfully as he asked what was wrong. All she could manage was, "I missed you… I missed you."

Cas turned them onto their sides to face each other and he held her, asking for her to tell him why she was crying but she again insisted tearfully that she just missed him so much. She curled into him and Castiel was hurt and confused, terrified that something was wrong. Why wouldn't she tell him what was wrong, he asked.

She told him he didn't need more burdens to bear, and he told her she would never be his burden. She was his treasure. She bowed her head to his shoulder then said she was just sad. Please just hold me awhile, she pleaded heartbreakingly. Stay. And he did.

For a few moments, they said nothing else. He stroked her hair, trying to comfort her. He silently harrowed his mind for a way to reassure her. When her tears abated, he held her close in the darkness and pressed his lips into her hair. "After the war… after I defeat Raphael… we'll find a way," he promised her in a gaunt whisper.

"How?" came a whisper of her own.

He answered her the only way he knew. "Together."

She snuggled even closer to him then, and Cas thought they were both aware of how precious this moment was, how rare it was, sadly, to have this time together. His heart already broke at the thought of leaving.

"I've... heard lots of people say the first year is the hardest," Alex murmured after awhile, sounding sad and thoughtful. "Man, were they right." She attempted an airy chuckle, but it sounded more like a sigh.

"The first year of... marriage?" Cas asked, making sure he followed correctly.

"Yeah." She paused. "Today's May the fifth."

It had been a year. Over a year. Wait. May the fifth. "Your birthday," Cas realized. "It was three days ago." He hadn't even realized and he frowned slightly. "A gift is customary, isn't it?" he asked, wishing he'd remembered. "What would you like?" He would get her anything she desired.

Her arms circled around him and she said nothing at first, but he sensed that she was sad. All she did was shake her head. "You."

"You have me," he told her tenderly, but he felt the half-truth of what he said even as she corrected him.

"You—all the time," she clarified despondently, pulling her head back to look at him. "Every time we're together... I'm waiting for the goodbye."

Silent and bereft, Cas touched the side of her face and held her gaze. Neither of them knew what to do, and both of them loved the other enough to die from the feeling bursting in their hearts. She was lonely and alone, and he could do nothing to change that. Not right now. Everything depended on victory in this accursed war he had declared. Castiel felt guilty. So guilty. His allegiances were divided down the middle and moments like this made him long to rip his grace out completely, crash to her forever. But Cas knew nothing but how to be an angel. He couldn't protect her as a man. He could better love her as a human, but he could better serve and safeguard her being what he was now. It was a miserable dilemma that burdened his heart. And even if he wanted to—and he did—he couldn't leave Heaven for her. He had a war to win. So much depended on his victory.

"We won't always be separated as we are now," he told her softly, committed to seeing that his words were proved true. He circled his arms around her again, pulling her close. "Someday we'll be together and there will be no goodbyes."

"Will you be a man or an angel in this 'someday'?" Alex asked softly, sounding nervous to hear his answer.

He thought about it and then answered honestly. "I'm not sure." She said nothing, mulling over deeply what he said. "Which one would you have me be?" he asked her. Those hazel eyes darted up to his.

"I… I don't know." But he wondered if she did know her preference. He opened his mouth to ask her if she meant that, but she was already speaking again. "Tell me about the war, Cas? About what it's like. What you've been doing all this time up there."

In the darkness of that motel room, he indulged her, starting at the beginning and delving into detail while avoiding mentioning Crowley and some of his more questionable actions. Instead he told her of how the heavenly host was torn between following himself and Raphael, how Paradise was almost unrecognizable in some places because of the destruction that had transpired. He told her how he was searching for Joshua to try and speak with God but had not been able to locate the angel anywhere. Cas told her how he had a handful of other angels searching the earth for Genesis, the lost archangel.

"Genesis? I don't remember her being mentioned in the Bible," Alex said, frowning in thought. "I've never even heard of her before."

"No, you wouldn't have." Castiel paused. "As punishment for her love affair with the lower-level angel, she was struck out of God's word. That's what they say, anyway. No one remembers."

"No one remembers?" Alex asked softly, intrigued.

"No. She was cast out a very long time ago," Cas answered. "I suppose her lover was, too."

"And who was her lover?"

Cas shook his head, feeling as though he knew the answer to that question, but when he tried to remember it, a large blank nothing came to mind. "No one remembers that either."

Cas told her how he was seeking Genesis to see if she would side with him and help end the war in Heaven. But what if Genesis sided with Raphael or didn't know who she was anymore, like Anna hadn't known? Alex asked. Castiel smiled a little ruefully and answered the best he could. He mostly didn't know answers. He told her about how the battles never seemed to end, how he'd learned more and more of betrayal, how he could only trust a select few angels. He told her of the heartache brought on by killing his brothers and sisters. He named some of them. Told her names, stories—one of Eremiel, who had shown Castiel a very special fish in countless years past, one of the evolutionary benchmarks of humanity. "That was when we still walked the earth in our true forms," Castiel said softly, deep in memories. "He was a good angel. A good brother. And he died at my hand because of this war. Because he was blinded by Raphael's lies."

Alex held Cas's hand close and brushed her lips over his knuckles, told him she was sorry, she couldn't imagine. Her touch and words seemed to tighten around him protectively, comforting him. She said she wished she knew a way to help him and those words made him smile just a little despite his pain. He touched her, unable to say with words what he felt. And then Cas reiterated his apologies at how he had just disappeared from her side when she'd needed him the most, the day Sam died in that graveyard, he told her he had never expected things to unfold as they did. He knew she could never forgive him for it, but he explained it at length: Raphael's blackmail, Castiel's own powerlessness to do anything but stay away to protect her. Alex accepted it bravely, saying she understood.

Castiel asked what had happened to break herself and Dean apart for the year. She told him about their fight, the way she had 'lost her mind for a few minutes' she put it: Holding her brother at gunpoint and blaming him for everything. Alex went on to slowly tell Cas what her year had been, how she'd tried working a few honest jobs but felt lost and out of place. How she'd fallen back on living the only way she knew. She didn't say things about how alone she'd felt, but Castiel could hear it somehow. She had been just as lonely as he had. In fact, even moreso, he thought. He held her tighter because of that. Alex asked how all of Heaven knew about their relationship, and Cas shook his head regretfully, because he didn't know how all of Heaven and Hell alike knew of his love for her. Alex asked if Heaven knew about their marriage and he said no and it would remain that way for the time being. Alex said that was all the more reason to keep it from her brothers, at least for now. "Until we know more about what the future looks like," she concluded in sad thoughtfulness.

Castiel heard her loneliness again and apologized quietly, telling her he was sorry about the way things were for them at present. Alex was valiant despite clear misgivings, telling him that after today, after being with him and speaking with him she felt better—how she'd been so worried after Scotland and after throwing the penny back at him. Cas touched it then where it rested against the space between her breasts. He murmured how he only wanted the best for her. She looked at him intently, the silence spanning for a moment. Then she abruptly asked if he remembered when she'd killed him at Lucifer's hand.

He was surprised at the question. "Yes," he breathed softly, recalling the utter horror in her eyes, recalling Sam's face but Lucifer's chill... how she'd screamed as Lucifer had puppeted her into killing him.

"I still have nightmares about that," Alex confessed in a voice that betrayed how tormented the memory still made her. Castiel grasped her hand in his and held on tightly.

"You didn't do that to me, it was Lucifer," he told her in fierce quietness.

Her eyes looked into his. "I know, but… I felt you die. I watched you die." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And I wanted to die, too."

Cas hugged her, kissed her hair, unsure what to say, remembering the worst time of his existence. She had been so ill—withered away into a shell of herself, pale and gaunt, eyes dull and glazed, lips drained of youthful rosy hue. She had been dying after possession, and he'd been a mortal man who was unable to do anything for her at all. "I still blame myself for all of that, you know? Everything that happened that day," Alex admitted softly, her voice filled with guilt. "If Sam hadn't been able to get control back like he did… the world would be burning now. And it'd be my fault."

Cas frowned deeply to himself. He hadn't dwelled on these things in quite some time—and hearing how much she had hurt him. "No. Lucifer would have found a way to trick or persuade Sam into being his vessel no matter what you did or didn't do." He remembered a moment that had been so frightening for him. "But why did you? Without telling me? Without... saying goodbye?" he asked faintly, his tone tinged with pain. "I woke up and you were gone."

"I know," she murmured remorsefully. "I was trying to do the right thing. Didn't want anyone to talk me out of what I thought was gonna save you all. So I just... left without saying anything to anyone." She shook her head, sounding a little bitter. "Guess you're not the only one who left when you said you wouldn't." Her voice darkened even further. "Fucking Crowley," she muttered scathingly.

Cas was slammed with suspicion at the unexpected mention of the King of Hell. "...Crowley?" he asked, trying to sound neither too upset or too nonchalant.

"The one who told me all the bullshit about how I could kill Lucifer," she said with a sigh. Shocked and then very angry, Cas remained stone-silent. He hadn't known that Crowley had perpetuated Lucifer's lies that almost ended Alex's life. "It doesn't matter now," she continued, oblivious to Cas's inner thoughts, "but I mean… if I saw him right now I'd definitely stab him in the throat." She drew back and looked at his face. "Why do you look so surprised?" she asked. "Crowley's a demon. I should have known better than to listen to him."

"Yes," Castiel said, trying not to be as terse as he wanted to be. "Demons lie." The irony wasn't lost on him: angels lied too. Either way, Crowley would pay. But for now, Cas focused on Alex. He pushed his boiling angry thoughts away and took in a deep breath to refocus. "Does Dean know that Crowley said these things to you?"

"No. He'd roast me alive for being so stupid. And for never telling anyone."

Cas paused, trying to be delicate. "Surely you realized Crowley's information could be untrustworthy?"

A soft sigh came from her lips. "I thought I was smarter than him I guess. I dunno. I wanted to be the one who could save everyone, for once… and I thought if I told you or Dean or Sam about it, you would just try and protect me." A wan smiled came over her mouth. "Maybe I should have let you, huh?"

Cas tightened his arms around her and was silent for a long moment. He wanted to say they should always tell each other everything, that she should never keep anything from him, not anything—but if he said that and then withheld all the things he was keeping a secret… that would make him a despicable hypocrite.

"Do you remember your time being possessed?" he asked her softly, thinking back to the day he had faced Alex and she hadn't been Alex.

She became very quiet. "Yes. It was cold. And I was very, very scared."

Only a handful of words, but they chilled him. She'd been tricked, used, and left for dead by Lucifer. Cas was left to shake his head mournfully. "I would have saved you if I could have," he said, wishing he had been able.

"You did save me. You brought me back from the dead."

Cas drew back, moving a few loose strands of hair away from her face with his fingertips. He would always try and save her and he didn't understand when she didn't give him the opportunity. "Why didn't you call me when you were turned into a vampire?"

The question quickly embarrassed Alex. "I… I was a monster. I didn't want you to see. I was ashamed," she admitted to Cas's great sadness. "I thought I was gonna die and… I guess I wanted the last you saw me to be something good. Not more of me after blood." Her eyes were downtrodden and low.

"Alex." He gazed upon her somberly, grieved that she would think that way. Her eyes met his haltingly. "You should know by now… nothing will stand in the way of my love for you. Nothing." It was terrifying, and it was the truth, and both of them were somehow afraid of how much he meant the words.

After a short silence, Alex quietly told Cas about what had happened with Sam, the vampires, all of it. The details were very alarming to Cas—how Sam had so willingly endangered his siblings, how Dean had run away, how Alex had fed on Sam and then how Dean and Alex had tried to fix the problem themselves with their grandfather Samuel's cure. And then when Cas learned of this woman Jamie Ward's involvement, how she'd saved Alex's life and then been hurt by it then disappeared completely, Cas nodded thoughtfully. "I'll see if I can locate this Jamie Ward and see if she is in fact all right," he said slowly. "We owe her your life after all, it seems."

Alex looked at Cas in sad hopefulness. "Don't you already have a million other things to do already?"

"Well, not a million," Cas said, believing that to be a grand exaggeration. "Several hundred, perhaps." He began to wonder why Alex was smiling like that. The way she always had when she joked. Cas was too busy thinking about something else. "I don't want you near Sam right now," he confessed, trying to convey how crucial this seemed to him. "Not after this week and what he's let happen to you, what he's done."

To his surprise, Alex didn't protest vehemently. Instead, she went quiet for a minute. "But… he's my brother."

"I know," Cas said. "But he's dangerous right now. He has no moral compass, no empathy. I know that Dean will try to keep you safe, but…" he trailed off. "And I can't watch over you very well right now." Admitting that was difficult and disgraceful, but true.

"Cas, I can take care of myself." Alex paused and thought about it. "Well. Most of the time."

Cas touched her shoulder cajolingly. "Please. Consider for my sake separating yourself from him for the time being. Until a solution presents itself. I don't want you in harm's way."

At his gentle request, the headstrong and stubborn Alex he knew and loved did not dig in and resist. She surprised him when instead of answering she studied him with tender eyes, looking into him deeply, seeing all of him (or so it felt). Finally, she spoke. "You seem so grown up to me right now," she observed in a soft voice. Why did it sound like she felt bittersweet about that? He'd had to—he'd had to step up and do the things required of him. Did that make him more grown up? Alex was still focused on his request. She nodded once. "I'll consider it," she said, seeming sad about that. "Especially if Dean keeps acting like a jerk to me about..." she trailed off and sighed, her eyes falling sideways furtively. "Things."

He heard how she was hurt thinking about her oldest brother. Cas's hand was still on her shoulder and he caressed the skin there, trying to comfort her. "He loves you very much, Alex," Castiel said. "I know he does."

Alex's eyes flitted back to his as she managed a rueful smile. "I know he does. He's just kind of bad about knowing where his business ends and mine begins." She sighed then looked at him with an abrupt glint of interest in her eye. "Speaking of that… how much longer can you stay?"

Cas frowned and shook his head slightly. To his best knowledge, he wouldn't be called away for at least another hour or two... but he couldn't exactly predict it, either. "I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "Why?"

She answered by leaning in and kissing him softly, sweetly—oh, that's why—and she shifted herself closer, enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her skin, then closer still until they were chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh—her mouth opened to him and he understood, giving in to her without protest. The rift that had been lodged between them was slowly closing with every touch and word and gaze. How long did they lay there kissing languidly, side by side, hands exploring each other's hair, each others arms, sides, chests? Castiel didn't know, but as his hands took in her body, he was once again thankful at how much healthier her physical form felt.

"You feel so much softer than you did last year," he murmured appreciatively, letting his hand grasp the firm curve of her behind (she made a gasping, giggling sound when he did that) and then he finally began to roll over onto her, laying her down onto her back. There he took his time to thoroughly, deeply kiss and touch her neck, jawline, collarbone, sternum, breasts, stomach, hips. She clung to his head with her hands as long as she could, not laying down but craning toward him, as if she couldn't bear to be separated from him. Every last part of her was beautiful and he wanted to show her the extent of his adoration.

He kept dragging his lips further and further downward, to the place where he knew she loved to feel his mouth. She reacted with a soft intake of surprised breath, their eyes met briefly and she murmured a coarse swearword and Cas felt his mouth grinning crookedly at her strong reaction. Just as he remembered… she liked this very much. He continued, lavishing affection upon her and tasting her deeply, his hands exploring and caressing her thighs and hips and sides. She was breathing hard and writhing in torment at the work of his mouth, whimpering his name like a prayer.

For almost an hour, the encounter continued—with the kissing of mouths and hands that explored every inch of the other; with whispered words and gentle comforts and then finally deep and slow lovemaking that was intensely appreciative and soulful, almost tantric in nature. It was like being high off of the other, like reaching nirvana. It ended as Cas sat back on his heels with her straddling him. Their arms wrapped around each other and left no distance at all between their heaving and sweat-damp bodies. Their mouths were a breaths distance apart and open so that they breathed the exhales of the other. Slow and powerful bliss came over them like the deepest inhale of sweet mountain air, like a sunrise over the ocean, like salvation itself.

---

Lansing, Michigan

"Turn here," Sam directed. Dean complied. Under the cover of darkness, the Impala bumped down a rundown gravel road seemingly to nowhere.

"This place sure is out here," Dean complained, switching hands on the wheel restlessly.

"Yeah, Samuel likes things discreet," Sam said offhandedly, then paused. "So, Dean—"

"Will you shut up already?" Dean was in a sour mood and not exactly excited to be riding around with a soulless douchebag for a brother. "I already told you. Don't wanna talk to you right now."

Sam sighed, sounding so very much like Sam for a second. "Come on Dean," he said levelly. "It's me. If we're gonna do this, hunt together, we have to trust each other."

"Oh that is rich," Dean mumbled. Trust each other. Ha. In the back of his mind, he wasn't too sure about keeping Sam on. He had Alex to think about, too. This sucked, being stuck in the middle—which sibling should he be loyal to? The brother who needed help getting his soul back or the sister who'd just overcome a demon blood addiction and had issues picking her boyfriends?

Dean had seethed for the first thirty minutes of the drive after leaving Cas and Alex in Calumet City. Then he'd gotten pissed at himself for actually going along with Cas's 'I need to talk to her alone' thing. Talk. Right. Now, three hours after leaving them at that motel room, Dean was kicking himself.

What, so he fucks Alex and makes her think he loves her, then disappears for a year and leaves her a brokenhearted mess… then just thinks he can waltz back and get some more? Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. Whatever. It was her choice—clearly Dean couldn't stop her. He'd tried last year and just gotten pushed away and alienated. All Dean could think was, really? Cas? Awkward doofy constipated Cas? Yeah, he got that Cas had saved her life and done some pretty amazing things for her, but at the end of the day, Cas had the sex appeal of a nail file. Or that's what Dean thought, anyway.

Dean wasn't a prude by any means—his views on sex were pretty self-centered and he had casual sex, one night stands, you name it. So did Sam and more power to him. But that stuff was below his sister, who was tenderhearted and a romantic at heart. Special. Dean was past hope of having a monogamous, long-term relationship, he was pretty sure about that now after the trainwreck of trying to make it work with Lisa. But Alex deserved better than he did. Empty sex with strangers, feeling good for a few minutes and then being alone again? Sometimes that was exactly what Dean wanted. But he was getting older now and... it wasn't always a fair trade. Dean guessed he could get by on meaningless sex, but Alex deserved a guy who would stick around and make her life better, someone who would give her stability and safety. And maybe Cas thought he was that guy but really. How could he be? Cas wasn't emotionally or mentally all there, he was a friggin' angel and wasn't even from the same planet that Alex was. The two of them were messing around with something dangerous. Dean couldn't shake that thought.

It wasn't even the idea of the two of them having sex that upset Dean the most... although it did disturb him—there were other reasons the idea of the angel and his sister bothered him. Much more important reasons. Cas was strong and powerful and not human. He was way into Alex. Obsessed, even. And that left Dean uneasy, knowing the angel who had started a war in Heaven was gunning for his sister. What were his intentions? What was he expecting to get out of this 'relationship'? Did the angel view Alex as a person, or a possession? Dean was going to make it his business to find out. Just as soon as he got over this crisis. He glanced at his brother sidelong. He really missed the old Sam right about now.

"There," Sam said, indicating a chain link fence gate up ahead. "They know to expect us."

Sure enough, the gate began to open as Dean drove up. He drove through and two guys with guns waved them in. Dean steered the Impala into what looked to be a pretty impressive compound—fortified and guarded, several smaller buildings clustered around a larger one, maybe an old warehouse or factory. "Park there," Sam said, pointing over at Samuel's familiar black van and Dean did so then got out and let out a heavy breath.

"Guess it's time to call the lovebirds," Dean grumbled then gave a windy, disgusted sigh. "Cas. We're here. Wanna get your ass over here, Romeo?"

Leaning his arms onto the roof of the Impala, Sam looked around expectantly. Dean got annoyed fast when Cas didn't appear right away. And then, behind him, Cas's unmistakable voice. "Hello Dean."

Dean turned around—there was Cas, looking the same as always—no, he looked a little different. His expression was less I have to poop than usual. Beside him, Alex looked the same as she'd looked when they'd left, only—her hair had been brushed (she never brushed it) and her cheeks were rosy, like she'd been for a very vigorous run—her expression was calm. Dean withered and got flustered. He found his voice as he struggled to hide his gaping expression underneath a mask of I am not amused. "Yeah, hi—" he shot a glare at Cas, unable to stop himself from making a comment. "You two have a good talk?"

Cas looked at Alex with a perplexed what do I say expression even as Alex just shook her head and chuckled, further maddening Dean. "Yeah, great. Listen, how about you meet us inside, lover boy?" Dean snapped at Cas. "Look for the huge shiny bald guy. Can't miss him."

Cas narrowed his eyes discerningly and glanced at Alex, communicating with her silently, then nodded to Dean. "I'll see you there." He disappeared.

Dean set his sister with an expression that suggested he was dead inside. "You're glowing," he commented flatly.

She gave a soft little chuckle and walked past him with a rough-housingly affectionate pat on his shoulder. "And you're adorable." Great, so she was gonna be a little shithead. Well, at least she wasn't slapping him anymore. She acknowledged Sam with a nod, pointing at the compound. "Sam? You wanna show us around?"

"Yeah, right this way." Sam took the lead.

Grumbling, Dean hurried to follow. He wasn't going to let Sam and Alex too close to each other, and he definitely wasn't going to let them be alone together after what had happened.

Inside the compound was dark with a low ceiling and bare, industrial walls. A few cheap fold out tables lined a big main room where Dean quickly counted about fifteen people—sharpening machetes, loading guns. A few glanced up, recognizing Sam but eyeing Dean and Alex dubiously. "Gramps throw a barbecue, leave us off the e-vite list?" Dean muttered even as a familiar guy came to greet them. Christian Campbell—their third cousin or some crap like that. Dean had met the guy once or twice before and didn't like him much. Christian had a bad attitude and strong, plain features. His light brown hair was slicked back from a receding hairline and he carried himself with an air of pompous swagger.

"Sam!" Christian laughed, greeting him with a handshake and clap on the back. His smile faded as he laid eyes on the other two Winchesters. "Dean. Alice."

Alex corrected him immediately, sizing him up, probably remembering him from a few months ago when she'd seen him before. "Alex."

"Right," he said, eyeing her a little rudely.

"Hello, Newman," Dean snarked. "Where's the man?"

Christian jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, eyeing Dean with open suspicion. "Down the hall, third door to the left." Dean set off in that direction without another word, his siblings right behind him. Third to the left… Dean counted doors, found the one they were looking for and all but burst into the room, hellbent on this task of finding out if Samuel was soulless, too.

Samuel was seated at a desk in what appeared to be a makeshift office—he'd been studying a slip of paper but upon Dean's rude entrance, he hurriedly put the paper away into a drawer of his desk. Huh. Interesting. "Well come right on in," Samuel commented a little sarcastically, trying to hide his emotions.

"Need to ask you a few questions," Dean said, getting straight to the point as his sister stood beside him with arms folded. Sam shut the door behind them.

Samuel glanced at Sam, then Dean again. "What's wrong?"

"The day you got back," Dean said. "What happened?"

Samuel's expression showed impatience. "We've been over this," he said, apparently not in the mood to chat.

Beside and behind him, Castiel appeared. "Well, recap it for our wingman," Dean said, glancing at Cas and indicating Samuel look, too.

Samuel swiveled in his office chair and looked Cas up and down, summing him up. If he were startled, he didn't show it. "This Castiel?" he asked mildly. Cas nodded shallowly. The bald hunter smiled condescendingly. "You're scrawnier than I pictured."

Cas recognized that he was being shaded and came back with a surprisngly cool and catty, "My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building."

Alex's expression froze as she visibly tried not to laugh.

"All right, all right, quit bragging," Dean muttered, pretty sure Cas meant it the way Dean thought he did. Classy, Cas. He rolled his eyes briefly before he returned his attention to Samuel. "So, you were dead, and…"

"And, pow, I was on Elton Ridge," Samuel returned blandly. "Don't know how. Don't know why. I got nothing to hide, guys."

"Well, you mind if Cas here double-checks?" Dean prompted.

Samuel's expression showed confusion. "Double checks?" He asked, then saw how Castiel was rolling his sleeve up. Samuel got a little skittish. "Double checks for what?"

"Your soul," Cas replied.

Samuel's dark eyebrows shot up, and, quick on the uptake, he put two and two together. "Wait… so that means… Sam?"

"Fresh outta soul," Dean wisecracked blandly.

Sam shrugged. "Whatever dragged me out... left a piece behind."

Samuel looked a little unsettled and then glanced at Cas, nodding. "Yeah, fine. Go ahead and check me."

"This will be very unpleasant for you," Cas said. "You have my apologies." He approached Samuel.

"Usually I have 'em buy me a drink before they get handsy," Samuel muttered, watching Cas reach toward him with heightening apprehension. And then when Cas reached into his chest, Samuel screamed in pain and writhed violently, obviously not expecting it to hurt as much as it did. It lasted only a few scant seconds. As Cas withdrew his hand, Christian burst in, a gun clutched.

"Hey, hey!" Alex raised a hand even as Sam moved to intercept.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam held both hands up. "It's okay. It's okay."

"What the hell's going on in here?" Christian demanded, staring first at Cas who was rolling his sleeve down, then Samuel, who was doubled over in pain.

"Angel cavity search," Dean quipped.

"I'm fine, Christian," Samuel grunted. "Just... give us a minute."

"But—"

Samuel used a much firmer voice—the likes of which seemed threatening almost. "Just give us a minute."

Christian didn't look happy about it, but he backed out and shut the door behind himself.

"Well?" Dean asked Cas.

"Unlike Sam, his soul is intact," Cas said, moving away from Samuel and a little closer to the Winchesters.

"Did you know?" Sam asked Samuel. "About me?"

Samuel's expression was terse. "No, but I…" he trailed off. "I knew it was something. I... you're a hell of a hunter, Sam, but... the truth is, sometimes you scare me." He shook his head. "So, what's the deal here? How do we fix this? How do we get his soul back?"

Dean shook his head too. "We don't know yet, but we have to." Cas looked toward the ceiling quietly, frowning, and Alex was watching him.

"Well, I'm here to help, of course," Samuel said. "What leads you working?"

"A bunch of dead ends and... you," was Sam's reply.

Samuel crossed his arms, resigned and tired. "Well, then, we'll just have to dig."

Castiel spoke suddenly, still staring at the ceiling. "Sam, Dean, Alex... I have to get back. I'm being summoned."

Alex sounded surprised and reluctant. "Now?"

He looked at her fully, seeming to apologize to her silently with his gaze. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"You're leaving?" Dean asked, staring—they could really fucking use Cas's help on this one.

Cas seemed slightly offended at Dean's flippancy. "I'm in the middle of a civil war, Dean."

Dean wasn't in the mood. "You better tear the attic up and find something to help Sam."

"Of course," Castiel said, his voice dark with surprising sarcasm. "Your problems always come first, Dean."

Well, I never. Dean was taken aback at the somewhat sassy comment.

Alex, voice softer than Dean's, drew Cas's gaze, which softened immediately. "Cas, just be careful up there," she said, and there seemed to be deep meaningfulness in her voice.

"Of course," Cas said, the same two words he'd said to Dean, but they were uttered in a gentle, considerate way. "And I will attempt to find some way of helping Sam." He paused, holding her gaze, like they were the only two people in the room. "Think about what I asked you to consider." Dean's eyebrows rose at that comment even as Alex nodded yes, she would. And then Cas disappeared completely. Dean looked at Alex closely. What he 'asked her to consider'? What did that mean?

"Would've asked him to stick around for a beer," Samuel commented wryly, a hand to his torso as he still grimaced in pain. He glanced at Alex briefly. "Seems to like you pretty well."

"You got no idea," Dean muttered, looking at Alex studiously. "What did he mean, what he asked you to consider?"

All he got from his sister was a side-eye, a slight shake of the head, and a muttered "tell you later."

Dean was unenthused. "Yeah great." He looked at Samuel, resigned to keep trying to find things out from closed off family members. "So, what's with the book club outside?" he asked. There was had to be a reason there were so many hunters around.

"Putting together a hunt," Samuel replied, pulling an ammo box up off the floor and opening it.

"That's a lot of guys for one hunt," Dean commented offhandedly. Alex was eyeing the shelves of books and taking in the titles silently as Sam narrowed his eyes at his grandfather.

"You found him, didn't you?" Sam asked, sounding mildly excited about it.

"Found who?" Alex asked, immediately latching onto her twin's intensity.

"He's got a lead on the alpha vamp," Sam replied, obviously into it.

"Really?" Dean asked, mildly impressed if that were true. "How'd you track him down?"

Samuel was mildly amused. "We're good."

Dean watched his grandfather carefully. "That's all I get? 'We're good'?" Why all the beating around the bush?

"When's the run?" Sam asked. He sounded awfully eager about it, too.

Samuel hesitated, clearing his throat. "Dawn."

Sam faltered, frowning. "You didn't call me? Why?"

Samuel looked down, didn't answer.

"'Cause of me," Dean supplied, then glanced at Alex. "And her." Sam narrowed his eyes at Samuel a little. Alex pondered Samuel carefully, then glanced at Dean sidelong. From that quick glance, Dean got the feeling she didn't trust Samuel any more than he did—and obviously, the feeling was mutual. "You don't trust us very much, do you?" Dean asked his grandfather. "Especially when it comes to big game like this."

"That's not true," Samuel said immediately, probably trying to keep the family peace or some crap like that.

Dean shrugged and smiled easily, testing Samuel. "Okay, well, then, we're in."

Samuel's eyes flickered with unease and he tried to backpedal. "No offense, but—"

"So you don't trust us," Dean surmised.

There was a long pause. "No, I just don't know you two. Not like I know Sam."

Fair enough, Dean thought. But there was something going on here, Dean could sense it. So he kept trying to volunteer them for the little morning run Samuel was planning. "All right, how about this. You call the plays. A hundred percent. I'm here to listen."

Samuel chuckled. "You? Since when?"

Dean played it close to his sleeve. "Since big daddy bloodsucker. I ain't gonna miss that." He could feel Alex's curious eyes on him but he held Samuel's gaze. "I get it. This is your deal, not mine. I'll follow your lead. I trust you." All total bologna of course. And Samuel didn't look too sure.

"You really gonna turn away a couple extra hands?" Alex added in, drawing her grandfather's cool, unreadable gaze. She must have guessed Dean's plan, because she was put on the passive aggressive moves like a pro. "We owe you for everything last week. Let us help."

Grudging, Samuel glanced at all the Winchesters in turn, last of all Alex. He snapped his ammo case closed with a loud click. "All right. I just hope you're good with a machete, kid."

---

"I don't trust him," Dean said definitively as the three of them went back outside and headed for the Impala. Cold incandescent floodlights cast a glow over the gravel lot where cars were parked helter skelter. "Dude's hiding something." Sam gave Dean an odd look as they walked in the chilly night air. Dean was in the middle and shaking his head. "I can feel it," he continued, seeing how Sam didn't have a frigging clue. "And if you weren't Robo-Sam, you'd feel it, too."

"Huh," Sam said in pronounced thoughtfulness.

"What?" Dean asked, stopping to look at his brother, who had a look on his face like he was trying to figure something out.

"Just… you, saying you don't trust family," Sam said, frowning mildly. He turned his gaze to Alex, who stood beside Dean, shoulders almost touching. "What about you, Alex? You trust Samuel?"

She scoffed mildly, keeping her hands in her jacket pockets. "Not for two seconds."

Again, Sam looked confused, but willing to hear her out. "Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Just don't. He gives off major bad vibes."

Sam narrowed his eyes, looked at her in continuing studiousness. Dean wet his lips and lowered his voice a little, casting glances between his two siblings. "Look, we hang close on this hunt, we blend in, we see what we can pick up. That's the plan."

"You still think Samuel's connected to this whole soul thing?" Sam asked.

Dean was out of answers. "I still think he's the only lead we got." He glanced at the Impala. "Now let's go get our gear and get in on this family reunion, huh?"

---

Alex wandered back a little further, her boots crunching on the gravel. She was outside, exploring the compound a little as she took in a drag from the cigarette she'd bummed off of one of the hunters inside. Mark, Matt—something like that. She'd spied the familiar cigarette box square in his shirt pocket and asked for one, struck by the sudden desire for one. It had been awhile. She blew out and watched smoke flutter out into the dark night air. It had been awhile for a lot of things.

She'd woken up this morning depressed, without hope, unsure of a million things, scared of everything and nothing in particular. And now she felt centered again, renewed, okay, more like herself again. Castiel. She smiled a little, warming when she thought of him. His name relieved her, the things he'd said to her strengthened her bones, the smell of him still clung to her skin. Somehow, they were going to make this crazy thing work, and she could believe that again now. It made current problems feel a little less dooming, at the very least.

She kicked at some gravel errantly, peering around the back of the compound curiously. A couple smaller buildings were huddled there and she drifted toward them leisurely. Samuel had really managed to put together quite a little business here—all the extra hands inside, all the weapons and what she had observed to be a pretty good arsenal of literature in Samuel's library. But. Impressive or not, Dean was right… there was definitely something off about Samuel and this place in general. It felt like something was being hidden or kept secret. Alex stopped at a little building that was padlocked, realizing immediately... none of the other buildings had padlocks. Curious, Alex threw a glance over her shoulder. No one was around. She crept closer and checked out the padlock, peered at the lock in the darkness. It would be easy enough to pick. If Samuel was hiding something, she wanted to know what. She dug around in her jacket pockets, found a bobby pin, and stuck it down into the padlock.

"You lost?" came a female voice.

Alex whirled, heart in her throat. Standing there with a plate of food in hand was one of the Campbell cousins. "Jen," Alex greeted cooly, trying not to look guilty, not sure if she even remembered this chick's name right.

"Gwen," the brunette corrected. She was shorter than Alex, with elfish features and big eyes that made her look perpetually surprised and a little crazy.

"Right. Gwen."

Gwen looked at Alex suspiciously. "What are you doing out here?"

Alex held her cigarette up. It balanced easily between two fingers and she cracked a facetious little grin. "Getting lung cancer, you?" She looked at the plate of food. It seemed pretty late for dinner and pretty early for breakfast.

Gwen didn't seem to like the question. "Look, you probably shouldn't be wandering around out here," she stated neutrally, but there was some definite hostility beneath passive tone she used. "People might think you were snooping."

"Hm. Yeah. You're probably right." Alex took a drag. "See you inside." She walked off without waiting for Gwen to reply and kept going until she got to the corner of the building, walking loudly… then stopped and doubled back silently to peek around the corner. There she saw Gwen unlocking the padlock then entering the hut with the plate of food. All while throwing distinctly shifty glances around. What the hell was going on in this place? Who was in there?

"Hey."

Alex almost fell over at the deep, masculine voice right behind her and she turned fast, dropping her cigarette and reaching for a weapon… then stopped when she saw who it was. "Christ, Dean!" she hissed at her brother. "Don't sneak up like that!"

He looked a little smug that he'd gotten the jump on her. "Don't get snuck up on," he countered.

Alex picked up her dropped cigarette grumpily and then grabbed him by the crook of the arm, walking him back toward the front of the compound briskly. "There's something weird going on here," she whispered intensely, casting careful glances around and stopping them beside the Impala.

"Tell me about it," Dean replied, seeming to share her misgivings. "Just tried to snoop around in Samuel's office and Christian cockblocked me. They're hiding something." He eyed her cigarette with distaste.

"Don't say it," Alex warned him, recognizing the look in his eye.

"I'm not, I'm not," he said, sounding sullen. But just to humor him, she took a last drag then tossed the cigarette down and crushed it with the heel of her boot.

"Where's Sam?" she asked, crossing her arms and looking at her brother carefully. He looked tired and harrowed, but more than usual.

"Inside, polishing his blade." Dean cracked a juvenile grin that chased away the weariness etched on his face.

"Grow up," Alex said, even though she was amused at the immature quip, too.

"You first," he said, because she was grinning despite herself. She rolled her eyes, trying to be mature and failing. Dean cleared his throat, got quiet and thoughtful, then leaned his back against the Impala. It sounded like it took everything he had to ask what he did next. "So—uh… things with Cas. Better?"

His gruff, stiff question sort of shocked her and her eyes darted to him in surprise. Yesterday she'd vomited out a lot of private thoughts and feelings about Cas and how much she loved him and how unsure she was about how he felt about her. All under the truth curse, and all to Dean. She would rather he didn't know that stuff, but… oh well. He did.

She answered him very carefully because she was sort of suspicious of his motivations for asking. "Yeah. Better."

Dean looked like he was trying to swallow a very large emotional pill. "That's… that's good."

Alex gave him a funny look sidelong, because he sounded like he was having to drag the words kicking and screaming out of himself. "You really mean that?"

He sighed loudly, giving up on trying to maintain the farce. "I dunno." At Alex's look of mild disappointment, he shrugged in chagrin. "Hey, at least I'm honest," he said. Even he sounded a little disappointed in how he was reacting. It was obvious what a hard time Dean had with the idea of Cas and her, but it was a pretty big step for him to at least try and ask her about it like a normal big brother would. Dean was looking at her in a soft, sad way. "He really does make you happy, huh?" He seemed to feel bittersweet about it.

Her heart lodged in her throat as everything inside of her shouted yes! Aloud, she answered him neutrally. "Yeah." Alex wished she could tell her brother everything but he just wouldn't understand. Not yet.

Dean's expression stayed all soft and sad, like he thought he had lost her or something. "Guess I can't be too mad about it then, right?" he asked, trying to joke around, but he really sounded like he didn't know how to feel still. Alex didn't know what to say and stayed silent, glad that at least Dean wasn't freaking out.

Maybe Cas was right, maybe Dean just needed to be sat down and made to understand some things. But the question was, would Dean ever really get it or understand and let her go? Dean wasn't like normal big brothers—he was better, yes, but he was also admittedly way too attached to herself and Sam—he viewed them as his siblings and also as his children, his responsibilities. He wasn't the only one with unhealthy attachments… Sam and Alex were pretty twisted up in the family dysfunction too, but Alex moreso because of the way she'd been voiceless growing up. She'd always clung to Dean and vice versa, more than other brothers and sisters did. The life they lived, there had been little other alternative. Alex tried to remember these facts when Dean got so petulant and psycho over her life and wellbeing. But it couldn't stay this way forever—they couldn't hold onto each other like they had before, and they both knew it. She was growing up and had found something new to hold onto: Cas.

Even though Alex was pissed at Dean for the better half of most days, she would always be there for him when he needed her. And Alex was suddenly aware that maybe this was one of those times. Dean had just broken up with Lisa yesterday and then found out that Sam was soulless—add to that finding out how Cas and Alex had 'screwed,' as Dean so charmingly put it and you had one thing: Dean feeling like he was all alone. Why hadn't she realized that before? Maybe Dean looked sad right now because he felt like he had lost everything at the same time. Lisa and Ben bowing out of his life, Sam not Sam without his soul. And Alex with her heart so clearly invested in the trenchcoat-wearing angel.

Alex was suddenly overcome with compassion for her brother and grabbed his arm reassuringly, patting a little. When he looked at her sidelong questioningly, she gave him a truce smile, trying to be hopeful. "Hey. Don't look so bummed out. We're gonna get through this Sam crap, okay?"

He didn't look assured. He tried to sound strong, but she heard how he was scared deep down. "And what if there's no getting through this one?"

Alex didn't want to acknowledge that as a possibility. "We always find a way," she said, then shrugged like it was no big deal. "This time's no different."

Dean took in what she said and nodded, trying to look like he agreed, then swept the conversation aside. He nodded toward the compound. "I need some caffeine, you in?"

She told him sure and they went into the Campbell compound and spent the rest of the night getting ready for the hunt that was happening at dawn.

---

That Morning

Alex leaned against the pickup truck, bored and annoyed. Some 'hunt' this was. It was insulting, being left behind to guard the cars. The sun wasn't quite all the way up yet and the day was both cooland foggy. Alex looked up and down the road again. It was a rural location in the middle of countryside nowhere. The alpha vamp was apparently holed up in a house that was about half a mile through the trees to the west. And here she was… babysitting the convey. Restless, she paced across the road and scrubbed at a smudge of dirt on the Impala out of habit. She gave a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms and turned and leaned against the Impala then tapped her foot slowly. This was, in a word, bullshit.

Dean hadn't been given a much better task than she had… he was with Gwen and had been told to hang back and take care of any straggler vamps. Basically, Samuel had made sure to keep them out of the hunt. Dean had wordlessly shot Alex a look that said just do what he says when he'd seen her protesting internally.

But how the hell were they supposed to find out what Samuel was being so weird about if they didn't do any investigation? Dean had said they were supposed to blend in and stick close—so what had happened to that plan? A crow called somewhere nearby and a deer or rabbit broke a stick somewhere in the woods behind her. Uggghhhh… this is stupid. Alex's impatience boiled up and she decisively grabbed her machete and muttered "screw this," then headed off into the woods in the direction everyone had gone. She didn't see or hear how she was being followed. Stalked. Not until it was too late.

She paused when she got a fair distance from the road and turned to look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed deeply when she thought she heard a sound. What was—

Pain exploded and her vision went white-hot as something powerful struck the side of her head, stunning and blindsiding her with enough force to make her spin and stagger a few steps sideways—before she even knew what had happened she was crashing down painfully, unsure of which direction was which. She heard someone groaning nearby. No wait, that was her. Vision swimming, head pounding where she'd been hit, Alex struggled to maintain clarity and rolled herself over, trying to find her machete with blind, groping fingers, trying to identify and locate her attacker. Above her, trees stretched up into the dull gray sky, doubling and tripling and spinning and she panicked, trying to push herself up—but she was slammed back down to the ground, hitting the back of her head from the force of the action.

Her wrists were held on either side of her head in vicelike grips by cold, crushing hands and she followed one of the arms, looking up in a disoriented search for the face of the person who was doing this.

Pinning her down, a familiar and towering blond man with piercing gray eyes. "Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?"

The confusion suddenly ended when she recognized him; her heart clenched in complete terror when she realized Glen Ward had apparently come back from the dead. On his face there was a chilling, triumphant smile.