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.

62. Cupid's Stupid

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 62 / Cupid's Stupid

"Love was the most savage monster of all."
- Rick Riordan

---

Ten Days Later

It was around one in the afternoon and pretty hot outside for mid-May. In the somewhat-forgiving shade of the covered garage adjacent to Bobby Singer's house, the Chevelle sat with its hood yawning widely open. Hair of the Dog played on a classic rock station in the background. Bent over the car engine, Alex wiped her brow with the back of her hand, momentarily pausing the work. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she wore long-sleeve navy blue coveralls over her regular clothes. Grease and grime smudged her face, clothing, and hands; her fingernails were lined in black. Perspiration wiped away, Alex returned to deftly twisting the torque wrench. The tool produced the familiar clicking sound as she finished installing the last spark plug. She went by feel carefully, waiting for the plug to feel settled and tight but not too tight. One more click… and she was satisfied, pulling the wrench and socket out then sticking the ignition wire back into the shaft above the new spark plug.

Alex rested for a moment, leaning with her hands spread wide to brace against the car. Lazily, she let her eyes wander the car engine. Cylinder head, fuel pressure regulator, intake manifold, intercooler, battery. Below all the top components she could see glimpses of the charge pipe, the valves, the distributor, the timing belt. Engines were pretty cool. All these parts on their own didn't do very much, and if one was out of sync with the others it could mess up the entire function of the car. Harmony. Engines demanded harmony. It was therapeutic to figure engines out: getting them to work, maintaining their functionality. But it also made her miss Dean, of course, to do any kind of engine stuff. She'd learned most of this from Dean after all—Sam definitely wasn't mechanically minded. He had a knack with computers and technology that Dean and Alex for sure didn't have.

Alex refocused and cleaned up the top of the car battery with her rag then shook her head ruefully. Bobby didn't take care of his car well enough, that was for sure, and he was lucky Alex had thought to take a look at it when she had. His spark plugs, for one, had been appallingly corroded. She'd spent all morning out here giving his car a little TLC: tightening loose valve nuts, inspecting the rotor shaft, cleaning the air filter, replacing the spark plugs, changing the oil, replacing some shoddy old wires and coils. Bobby knew how to do all this stuff—he'd been a mechanic by trade before he'd been a hunter after all—but he just didn't seem to like working on cars anymore. Alex however liked it plenty and was happy to do it for him… it was a hobby that was intensely useful and made her feel smart, relaxed even. And she needed to feel relaxed right now.

She was more high-strung than she was letting on, and was it any wonder? With everything that had happened in the past couple weeks, she was a little on the insomniac side, a little on the worried-as-hell side. What a fucking year, huh? Alex shook her head. Mental note: see if I can track down Jamie when I've got a spare few days. She had to be out there somewhere. But her phone was off and she'd seemingly vanished off the map completely. When Alex thought of Jamie, she thought of Jamie's brother and her mood sobered a little. The Glen thing had shaken Alex's life and mind up not once but twice. She shivered a little, remembering Cas burning that asshole to dust. Cas had never seemed so furious or frightening. Glen was definitely, definitely dead. So… why was Alex still having nightmares about it? By it, she meant what had happened. What Glen tried to do. It had impacted her more than she'd acknowledged, maybe even to herself. She had never been one to look at a strange man and feel a shrinking sense of fear before Glen's assault, but now she found herself suddenly cautious and nervous around big, unfamiliar men.

It did help explain why she'd given in so readily to Dean's appeal for her to take the bench for awhile. Her self-preservation made sidelining herself an easier decision than it would have been before—and Sam was scary, no doubt, dangerous even. Even though it still logically felt like the right move to have made for herself, Alex felt bad and guilty knowing that Dean was out there alone with robo-Sam. What if he needed her help? And wouldn't he be lonely, sort of? What if Sam hurt him or didn't have his back?

Alex straightened up and worked on reconnecting the battery cable, her brow furrowed in tense thought. He wasn't Sam. He just wasn't, not without that all-important missing piece of soul. Was his soul suffering in Hell? Was the Sam she loved screaming and burning alive at this very moment? I hope not. God I hope not.

All in all, it was pretty damn bittersweet to go opposite directions so soon after reuniting. The year apart had changed all of them a lot. Alex was more inclined to independence and self-reliance. Dean had showed himself to be more patient and accepting and respectful. And Sam, of course, was a soulless douchebag who thought it was okay to let his siblings get turned into vampires.

Alex accidentally knocked a socket wrench off the edge of the engine where she'd set it and grumbled to herself as she worked to get it out of where it fell. Successfully getting the tool free, Alex gave it a dirty look and tucked it into her utility belt.

Dean had called every day just as promised to check in. There was always a note of forlorn and brow-beaten tiredness in his voice when they spoke. He surprised her with his attempts to be supportive of her, though. He asked about Cas and if she'd heard from him, asked if everything was okay between them, told her to 'go easy on him'—whatever that meant. All of what he said about Cas was said very awkwardly and forcibly, but said all the same. It was like he was trying to be a normal and emotionally independent big brother. It was very striking. Dean was growing up. And so was she.

It just sucked that they couldn't be together right at that moment. She missed him—of course she missed him. And Sam, too. The old Sam. The Sam who'd been present and emotionally giving, the Sam who got excited about research and prissy when you goaded him; the Sam who was a reliable moral compass and made the best are you friggin' kidding me? faces on earth. The Sam who hugged her tight and could tell when something was wrong and gave her 'cheer up' smiles when she was down in the dumps. It was a real dick move of Crowley to bring Sam back soulless like that. The demon knew exactly what he was doing, too, hanging that over Dean's head. Still, why would Crowley have waited so long to involve Dean and make his demands known (work for me or I throw Sam back in the fire!)? Something felt a little off. Story of her life, she guessed.

Speaking of people she missed…

Cas had called her eight days ago (he got a new phone) and when she told him where she was and how she was taking a break from Sam and Dean, he'd come to see her at Bobby's. He had looked good: No more blood on his face, no more woozy or weakened state. However, that tired and distressed nature had been ever-present in his eyes, even in the way he stood. He had said hello and told her of how the Horn of Joshua was destroyed in a hand-to-hand struggle (apparently it went sailing into the outer edge of the Holy of Holies and was vaporized on impact). Even as he was asking how she was, he was abruptly summoned and the visit (all thirty-some seconds of it) was cut short. He'd been frustrated, she'd been frustrated (but had tried not to show it too much). He'd promised to return as soon as he was able. She hadn't seen or heard from him since.

It was nerve-wracking thinking of him up there fighting and risking his life every day. She wished she knew how to be there for him better. In fact, when she thought about how much pressure Cas and Dean were both under, she felt guilty all over again about being tucked away at Bobby's. However, she wasn't sitting around doing nothing. She and Bobby spent several hours every day researching anything and everything to do with soul lore. So far, they found nothing that would help with Sam's issue—but they weren't set on quitting anytime sooner, either. Besides that, Alex made herself useful by helping Bobby with errands, cleaning, and stuff like fixing his car today. She'd taken up residence in the attic—she told Bobby it was so that she could sort through his ridiculously cluttered collection of volumes up there (he must have had hundreds of books stacked up against the attic walls). And that was part of the reason... but she also loved the attic for another reason. It was nice, quiet, insulated and climate-controlled, yes… but most of all, it had appeal for her because of the memories she associated with that small, bright space. She and Cas had been there together once.

Every night when she went to sleep (if she went to sleep), she remembered how she and Cas had been there in that same bed, holding each other each a year ago before everything had fallen apart. Before they'd been torn apart. They'd been younger then, more innocent somehow. She missed that time in their relationship. Even though she guessed that things were relatively patched up for now, it still felt different. Cas seemed distant, and maybe it was because of the war, maybe it was because he stayed gone so much currently. She just wanted so much for him to be there for a day or two, for there to be time together so that she could feel sure again. She was resigned to the fact that for now, she had to wait. The whispering questions and stressful doubts at the edge of her mind made her feel guilty and dubious. Their time in the motel eleven days ago—a couple snatched hours of intimacy and conversation—it had been a lifesaver, but she needed the same again.

It was hard when your husband was away. Ha. Husband. Cynicism colored her thoughts as she tried to decide what to do with that. Some days she loved the idea of being married to Cas, other days she didn't even understand what it meant. At the time it had happened she'd thought the world was going to end and just screw it had been her mentality. Plus she'd been so in love with Cas that she would have probably done anything he asked or said. She still loved him, of course she did—in fact she loved Cas so much it hurt, but the secret they were keeping only added to her anxiety. The year apart had embittered her, and it was hard to just bounce back or heal immediately from all the bad feelings and doubts that had soured her over the months when she hadn't known where he went. She understood well enough: the miscommunications and the misunderstandings, Cas staying away to protect her from Raphael… but it just wasn't fair what had happened. And as a result, their relationship was wounded. Or maybe that was just her.

It was weird, because when he was with her, physically in the same room, she had no issues with the thought of being married to him. When when he was looking at her and speaking to her and holding her gaze with so much care, when he was in bed with her, when he was kissing and touching and holding her, she knew she belonged with him. But when they were apart and his absence was so deeply felt (like right now), the questions started. Was it real, really real? Would it last? Hadn't he wanted marriage solely on the fact that he'd been 'human' more or less? Did he feel the same about her now that he had angeled-up again? Round and round her thoughts went, settling nothing, resolving nothing, just further agitating and stressing her. The endless feeling of in-between was what was so hard and harrowing. Cas—just come see me and make everything all right, okay?

She faded out of her thoughts when she became aware of a car approaching. She turned her head and squinted up and over into the salvage yard where a sad, beat up nineteen-seventies Ford Ranchero Squire was pulling in slowly. A familiar sounding song thumped rhythmically inside the car—was that… No Diggity? That brought her back to the nineties right away. The car creaked to a stop not far away and the engine cut off. Not recognizing the vehicle or the person in it, Alex straightened, cautious. Her gun was nearby on the little rolling work bench she had out. Better to be safe than sorry. She grabbed and stuck her piece down into the back of dorky tool belt she was wearing. He might just be someone here to buy scrap metal or something but it never hurt to take precaution as far as she was concerned… especially after the year she'd had.

Feigning nonchalance but aware of every single thing happening, Alex closed the hood of the Chevelle. She slung her rag out of where it had been tucked into the coveralls and scrubbed at her grease-streaked hands with calculated casualness, eyeing the newcomer who was leisurely unfolding out of his car. He didn't look like bad news. He actually looked kind of… comical.

Tall and scrawny like a beanpole and wearing a rumpled outfit that did him no favors, the guy was reminiscent of a gangly teenager even though he had to be thirty at least. His jeans were too short above his converse shoes, his plaid shirt swallowed him alive. Shaggy brown hair peeked out from underneath a haphazard ball cap that was worn far back on his head (a head that was too big for his stick-figure body). He had huge ears that stuck out awkwardly and his face was made up of oddly small, elfin features… except the huge nose that reminded Alex of a ski slope. He loped over her way, adjusting his old grimy ball cap in greeting as he reached her. He had a pleasant and laid back demeanor that was obvious before he even spoke.

"Howdy little lady," he said affably, smiling pleasantly. He acted like he knew her and was a hundred percent at ease, but she had no clue who he was. She gave him the beginnings of a questioning look even as his smile widened and he nodded as if pleased. "Guessin' you must be the famous Alex Winchester," he said in the slightest southern drawl. "Heard a lot about you," he said, then looked around at all the tools she had laid out. "Getting your elbow grease on, eh?"

Alex remained skeptical. "…And you are?"

"Name's Garth, mon amie," he replied breezily, an unexpected and great self-confidence to his demeanor—he seemed to think highly of himself and have no shortage of smiles that made his eyes sparkle. He swept his hat off for dramatic air. Was he… curtsying? "Garth Fitzgerald the fourth," he introduced himself. "Hunter, hip-hop enthusiast, Jenga expert." He plopped the hat back where it'd been, a crooked I'm-so-charming smile slouching on his face.

Alex gawked. …Hunter? And more importantly: Jenga expert? "Uh… okay…" She hesitated and dumbly stared, waiting for further explanation. No way he was a hunter-hunter. Maybe he meant deer hunter or something. He said nothing else, his silly grin holding steady, and she was forced to fill the silence. "So… can I help you?" she asked, eyeing him closely. He didn't look like he could be a hunter. Way too skinny and bright-eyed. "Need some scrap metal, or…?"

He laughed as if she'd just made an adorable mistake and he found it cute. "Oh no no no," he said, and sighed as if trying to withhold his amusement. He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, still grinning. "Workin' a job couple hours over. Called Bobby for a hand."

Alex stared with a dumb look on her face. Was this a joke? "You're a hunter," she stated, and it was a question and a flabbergasted statement at the same time.

The door groaned open behind Alex. "Hey Garth," Bobby greeted. He was his predictable grumpy-around-the-edges self. "That was quick, you musta done ninety the whole way here."

"Bobby!" Garth's smile doubled in enthusiasm and he went right on over and hugged a protesting Bobby zealously, slapping him on the back as he laughed. He drew back and gripped Bobby by the upper arms, his expression suddenly soft and serious, like he was trying to be philosophical. "Speed limits are for the simple-minded, amigo. Always remember that."

Bobby looked as befuddled as Alex was about that statement. "Uh… right." Garth let go, smiling again. Bobby glanced at Alex briefly. "So I see you two've met."

"Yes, yes we have," Garth answered immediately, then smiled at Alex as if in fondness and approval. "Think she'll do just fine, Bobby."

"…I'll what?" Alex asked, making a face like did I hear you right? When Bobby made a face like it's not my fault and Garth just kept smiling and nodding, Alex got exasperated. "One of you explain, now."

Garth's face fell and confusion showed, he looked at Bobby for explanation. Bobby shrugged and threw his hands up. "Hey, I didn't say she'd do it, I said you could come make your pitch. So… get blabbin'."

Out of the loop and not liking it too much, Alex leveled Garth with an impatient tell me now look.

Garth's crestfallen expression was gone, replaced with a look of almost excitement. He spoke with his hands, maybe imagining himself captivating or mysterious. "Picture this. A successful nightclub in Omaha, barely two hours from here. Every night it's packed to the gills with people looking to get it twisted. Two weeks ago, the disappearances start—couples, always couples, and seven of 'em so far. The profile? Deeply unhappy lovebirds who're on the rocks, or people who're cheating on their partners. The culprit? Remains a mystery." He paused, expectant. When Alex said nothing, he shrugged. "I've been working the case for a few days now, can't get any further, couples keep on going poof." He resumed his attempts to sound alluring. "This, my friend, is where you come in."

"What, you need backup or something?" Alex asked dubiously.

Garth laughed openly at her question, shook his head as if in fond chagrin. "Alex, Alex, Alex," he said, then sighed dramatically, smiling at her even wider. "We gotta go undercover," he said, then pointed two fingers at her. "I need you… to be my girlfriend."

Alex's expression fell. Seriously? She let her gaze slide to Bobby. What, so Garth had called Bobby looking for a female hunter and Bobby had just volunteered her? Nice, Bobby. The older hunter ducked her piercing gaze. Alex returned her eye line to Garth, who was waiting, clearly confident that she'd say sure, let's go! But she found herself cracking a sarcastic, doubtful grin. Undercover as his girlfriend? Maybe it was mean of her, but she said it anyway. "No one would ever believe that."

Garth's response was pure gold. "Now I know I'm a catch, but don't sell yourself short, Miss Winchester," he encouraged earnestly, prompting her eyebrows to shoot up in baffled amusement. His expression was sympathetic and overly-earnest. "Even in those ratty coveralls, you're still pretty as a picture."

Her mouth was open in a dumbfounded gape and she was honestly speechless for a couple seconds. Alex settled on finally holding a finger up to him. "…Hold that thought." She then grabbed Bobby by the shoulder and steered him out of earshot of Garth, who started poking curiously through her tools. He clumsily knocked some over and they clattered loudly on the cement floor.

"Don't touch those, Fabio!" Alex called, then looked at Bobby like he was nuts, lowering her voice to an intense whisper. "Seriously Bobby?"

"Hey, I try and help him out sometimes," Bobby defended mildly. "Plus, thought maybe you'd like to get outta the house."

Garth was picking up the wrenches he'd knocked over and held two on top of his head like bunny ears. "Hey look, I'm a bug!" he called to them and giggled shrilly at himself.

Alex stared a couple more seconds at Garth the bug and then looked at Bobby, who appeared entirely embarrassed by association. "Is this guy for real?" she asked, not sure she could actually believe that this goofball was legit a hunter.

She got a side glance. "Unfortunately," Bobby grumbled, then shrugged. "Kid's a real loon. Dunno how he's still above ground. Kinda an idjit most of the time, as you can maybe see. But… s'got heart of gold. Tries hard. And plays a mean game'a Jenga." At that comment, Alex's face did a small double take. What was with the Jenga? Bobby gave her a half-smile. "Go crazy. Every hunt I ever did with Garth was one for the books." He paused. "The comic books, maybe." Alex's look of hesitance prompted Bobby to give her an encouraging look. "Come on, I know you're bored off your ass doin' house duty."

"I am not!" Alex protested.

"I'm just sayin'… I only got so many engines you can fiddle with," Bobby said, casting glances around the garage and salvage yard beyond. He was good at reading her… the idea of a hunt was appealing for sure. It would be a nice distraction from everything else, and Garth was a total goofball, Bobby obviously trusted him, there wasn't a threat there—Alex could definitely take Garth's stick-figure build in a fight. Bobby patted her on the back reassuringly, gruffly. "Go do the hunt," he said, and he sounded very fatherly in that moment. "It'll do you good to do somethin'." At Alex's remaining look of reluctance Bobby pulled a face. "Or fine, stay, I need some help mendin' socks and readin' volumes as thick as a roof shingle."

…That didn't sound so appealing, honestly. The idea of a hunt sounded so tempting. Alex looked at Garth, who was putting an arm out to lean in a debonair, casual slouch against her rolling tool bench. He didn't realize about the wheels and almost fell over completely when the cart rolled away under the weight of his lean, which quickly turned into a frantic, flailing, tool-clattering debacle. The guy was like an accident on legs. Alex shook her head in disgruntled chagrin. What the hell. She couldn't quite believe what she said next: "Think I'll go with Garth."

---

Alex presently found herself in the last place she'd expected to be that morning when she woke up… on the road with the most inexplicably optimistic hunter she'd ever met. Poison by Bell Biv Devoe pumped on Garth's shoddy sound system and he bobbed his head in time to the early-nineties hip-hop, his shoulders doing some kind of weird sitting-still dance as he drove them down the road at crazy speeds. He had on aviator sunglasses that were huge on his face. "This is my jam!" he announced gleefully, oblivious to Alex's are you serious side-eye.

"So I gathered," she commented neutrally, not sure if she believed he was really this guy were for real or not, and if he was for real… how was that even possible?

"Gotta keep it nineties, that's what I always say," Garth said contentedly, leaning back casually in the driver's seat and keeping one loose hand on the wheel. He was insanely chatty, overly friendly, and a big-time space-case. She'd only known him for about an hour now, but the guy was... unique, she'd give him that. And sort of annoying. Like right now. "That girl is poiso-ooooon!" he sang along in a nerve-wracking falsetto as he dipped his shoulder down, letting his head follow it, thinking he was real cool as bobbed his head like a chicken to the music again. Apparently, he was having the best day ever or something. Alex felt like backing away slowly. This much zeal for life wasn't normal, was it? He reached for the volume knob and dialed it down a few notches. "So, do ya think we should change our names for the cover?" he asked. "I always thought I'd make a good Darryl or Miguel. I think you'd make a good Ashley or Nicole…" he was overly thoughtful. "Britney, maybe… not Melinda, you don't look like a Melinda…"

"Uh, I think our current names are fine, Garth," Alex said. She didn't quite know how to take this dude. "Cover works best when not all of it's made up."

"True dat, home slice," he replied, completely genuine, a laid-back smile playing on his thin lips. "Good thinkin'. I can see why Bobby keeps you around."

I can see why he wanted to palm you off onto me. "So." A short silence hung. Alex eyed him mistrustfully and curiously both. "How long you been hunting?"

"Ah, few years, give or take," he said vaguely, then glanced at her pleasantly. "You're a lifer, right?"

"A lifer?"

"Yeah. Whole life hunting. A lifer."

"Oh." She had never known there was a name for it. "Yeah, I guess. Pretty much."

Garth nodded with utmost knowingness. "I can see it in your old-soul eyes," he commented casually. "Also, the Winchester fam's pre-eeetty famous in Hunter-land," he continued, oblivious to her bemused expression.

"…Are we?" She was more and more befuddled by the moment with his off-the-wall statements and observations.

"Let's just say I might need your autograph later," he said, winking at her like he thought he was super suave and charming. He was neither. He was nerdy and cringy.

"O…kay," Alex managed, then cleared her throat. She didn't want to laugh in his face or make him feel bad with the faces she kept making without a second thought. But it was definitely a challenge. She tried to stay professional and refocus things to the job. "So, the hunt," she said, trying to remember what he'd told her. "No trace at all of the couples once they disappear?"

"No trace," Garth confirmed. "No bodies, no leads, no nothing. They always disappear from inside the club, too, seems like. Seven couples in two weeks. Police can't make heads or tails of it, club owner's stumped, staff hasn't seen anything weird. All I know's the couples who disappeared were seen arguing loudly in this club before they went ka-poof. Oh, and a few solo-flyers, cheating types, disappeared from the club, too, forgot to mention that. The interesting part there? All of them had left spouses at home, who also disappeared."

So, fourteen people gone without a trace. Considering the possibilities and taking the facts in, Alex mulled it over. "What, so someone has some kind of bone to pick with couples on the rocks?"

"Bingo," Garth replied, animated. "Hard to know who though. The couples had no connections to each other that I could find." He held up a finger in thought. "One weird thing though… the local fast food joints have all reported heavy french-fry theft in the past two weeks."

Alex frowned deeply like she'd heard wrong. "…French fry theft?"

"Yup," Garth confirmed flippantly. "Huge quantities of golden potato goodness just gone outta McDonalds and Burger Kings sight unseen."

"…And you think that has something to do with the case?" Alex surmised doubtfully.

Garth shrugged. "Maybe…" he sighed long and gusty. "Can't make heads or tails of this one, to be honest. But it's definitely freaky, so… might be connected somehow."

Alex couldn't think of a specific monster or creature who took interests in wayward couples or ate french fries. Huh. Stumped, she shrugged. "Might be witchy, maybe?" She suggested uncertainly, thinking that maybe the french fry thing was just a coincidence of some kind.

"That's what I thought too, but I broke in there during the day and scoped the place out," Garth said casually. Alex pictured him busting in through a window and falling over his own legs. "No hex bags, no talismans or spell work anywhere. Place was clean."

Huh. His use of familiar terminology and the growing realization that he really was a hunter had her intrigued. Maybe the second he was in the zone he turned into James Bond. Maybe she was misjudging him. Probably not, but maybe. "How'd you learn all this stuff in just a few years?" she asked, wondering how he'd stumbled into hunting and more importantly, how he'd stayed alive so far. It didn't fit at all.

"Guess I just catch on quick," he said, a humble and pleased smile playing on his face. He turned to look at her and pulled his sunglasses down his nose to peer at her slyly over the tops of the rims. "I was homeschooled."

"... Right. And you… usually hunt by yourself?"

"What can I say?" Garth asked, shrugging and smiling with that same sense of sly modesty. "I'm just a lone wolf."

"Uh huh," she returned uncertainly, then made herself focus. "Okay, so what's your game plan, Garth? I'm guessing you wanna lure the perp out, right?"

"Well Lexie,"—she looked at him very quickly when he abruptly used a nickname she never used—"I thought we'd dress our best and infiltrate the premises tonight all while playing the part of an unhappy couple in order to lure out the entity behind the deaths." He spoke so properly, but with his easy, lazy southern drawl.

"No problem," Alex said, even though she wasn't entirely sure about pretending to be his girlfriend. As long as it didn't involve anything physical or creepy, fine. Anyway, they were going to be playing unhappy people, right? So she probably didn't need to even worry about putting on a lovey-dovey act. Out of nowhere, she thought of Cas and a pang of longing and worry struck. She missed him and was abruptly hit with how much. She looked out of the car window and up into the clear blue sky. Hope you're okay up there. The thought of him risking everything and running himself ragged, fighting day in and day out for victory, for a future together, for her… it struck her with sudden and unexpected power, making her eyes ache with emotion she hadn't expected. Not comfortable with appearing vulnerable, Alex focused on the present moment. "So you got a real girlfriend somewhere out there?" she asked Garth with a put-on conversational tone.

"At present, no," he answered, then shook his head just once as his eyes lit up a little. "But there is a little filly I gots my eye on. Shew-wee, she's a tall drink of water," he said then gave her a coy smile, raising his eyebrows quickly and letting them fall back down. "Nurse."

"Ah," Alex said. Dean liked nurses too. The porno kind, anyway. "Every guy's fantasy."

Garth sounded like he was lost in fond recollection. "Patched me up real good back in New Orleans a few months back. Real peach. Really shoulda gotten her number." He paused. "And name, maybe. Hm. Can't remember her name…" he shrugged it off then looked at Alex. "What about you? Got a gentleman caller?"

Alex hid a smile, glancing out of the window to hide her face temporarily. "Guess you could say that."

"Wait, don't tell me," Garth said. "I'm good at this stuff." His voice took on a thoughtful tone. "He's average height, beardy. Real life of the party with a bad boy side. Likes motorcycles and clubbing and yoga."

"'Beardy'?" she repeated, thrown and amused at the same time. She pictured Cas in black leather at a club doing yoga and wasn't sure if that mental image were hilarious or somehow hot. "Anyone ever tell you you're kinda weird, Garth?" She was absolutely out of her element with this guy but somehow starting to find it kind of... fun.

"Ah, we're all weird," he replied breezily. "And life is weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with our own, we call it love." The sudden philosophy startled Alex, who looked at Garth in surprise. He was kind of totally on the money, but where had that come from? He didn't notice her astonished stare. He reached down between the seats and held up a packet of dried meat. "Jerky?"

Alex couldn't stop herself. She laughed out loud because she liked this guy and his offbeat sense of timing, his out-of-place comments, the way he was so unapologetic about his awkwardness. He didn't seem to care, at all, about what anyone else thought, and you know what? That was cool.

She accepted his offer, momentarily charmed by his oddness. "Sure, why not. Jerky."

---

That Night
Omaha, Nebraska

At some stuffy department store the likes of which Alex had never in her life stepped into before, she waited outside the dressing room for Garth to hurry up. She stared off at the perfume department (a whole department dedicated to perfume. She still couldn't get over that—how many different kinds of perfumes did people need?).

Garth had picked out his "clubbin' duds" with painstaking slowness. Alex in the other hand had grabbed the first flashy dress she saw on the rack: a gold sequin-covered strapless thing. It was blinding and ridiculous but eye-catching, which was part of the ruse, right? She was wearing it now—it fit like a glove and was hard to move in, hitting mid-thigh. It felt really revealing and left no place for weapons to be concealed except right up at her inner thigh. She had packed her weapons bag in Garth's car and did have a thigh holster for her gun—so that'd have to do, she guessed. Club security would probably be pretty tight. Garth would have to smuggle in the majority of their weapons. Garth. All day as they'd prepped for this "sting operation" as he called it, she'd been increasingly baffled and amused at him. He was genuinely kindhearted and sweet, two things she didn't know how a hunter could ever be, but he was somehow. It almost made her anxious, because the kid could get killed doing this stuff. Kid. He was older than her and here she was thinking of him as a kid.

At that moment Garth came out of the dressing room wearing a hideous bright purple silk shirt, the kind that looked shiny and slippery. It was unbuttoned a couple buttons to show a sunken, scrawny chest and the shirt hung off him too big. He'd tucked it into his pleather black pants which were way too tight, the shoes he'd picked out made his feet look like boats, but he was swaggering with a grin. "Righteous, yeah?" he asked, the picture of self-satisfaction as he checked himself out in the full-length mirror. He smoothed his hair to the side, pleased with what he saw. "So balls."

"Yeah," Alex agreed, suppressing a smile again. 'So balls'? It was like a car-wreck… she couldn't look away. "Great."

He grinned at her, nodded approval. "Cool duds, Lex. Super fly."

She didn't bother to correct him. He'd been calling her Lex and Lexie all day and she didn't have the energy to fight this nicknames. "Thanks," she said, wishing it was possible to get into a club wearing jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt instead. Either way, she was anxious to get a move on and get to the ass-kicking. "Ready to go be unhappy in love?"

In response, Garth whipped out a pair of Ray Ban style sunglasses he'd apparently had in his back pocket, putting them on smoothly and spreading his hands out in a pose. "Booya."

"So… yes?" Alex asked, an unsure little smile at his antics creeping onto her face. He was so ridiculous.

"You know it, amiga!"

Alex contemplated him with a slightly cringing expression even as her smile remained. "Hey, you know only douchebags wear shades inside at night, right?"

He made two finger guns at her way. "Exaaaaactly," he said knowingly, then popped the collar of his shirt, making it oh so much worse than it'd been before. "I'm gettin' into character! Hate me yet?"

Smirking and shaking her head, Alex played along. "Can't stand you."

"Perfecto, mamacita!" Garth said, grinning. He suddenly frowned at her feet, whipped his sunglasses of, and shook his head. "Oh no no no, those boots will not do." She was wearing her work boots with the dress. "You need heels."

Alex made a face. "Heels?"

Garth gave her a lecturing look. "Heels."

Immediately grumpy, Alex gave an insolent sigh. "Now I really do hate you," she muttered.

---

What happened that night at The Halo would go down in Alex's memories as the most ridiculous and off-the-wall hunt she was ever a part of.

Wobbling into the dark and noisy club in sky-high stilettos, she was convinced that she looked crippled from the way she was walking—she was barely able to move at all without holding her arms out for balance. "Who… the fuck… invented these death traps?!" she complained—the rickety heels she wore were even harder to walk in than those asshole spiky boots she'd sported last month to lure vampires. There must be an art to walking in these things, but she hadn't learned it yet, obviously. She clutched onto Garth to keep from falling, but he wasn't very reassuring… his rail-like physique looked and felt like he might fall over if the wind blew particularly hard. Stumbling as her heel turned under her, Alex squinted at the multi-colored laser lights beaming down into her eyes. It was loud and confusing in the nightclub, and it smelled like human sweat and alcohol. People did this shit for fun?

Trance music pumped loudly and Alex hung on tighter to Garth's stick arm, not sure where they were going. He still had his sunglasses on and as such, he blindly walked right into a cocktail table he didn't see. "Oops, sorry, sorry!" Garth apologized—he sent drinks spilling everywhere, including onto a couple of people.

"Hey watch where you're going, asshole!" a drink-doused guy with greased back hair snarled.

"You have my apologies, good sir!" Garth called over the music. He was already moving on, getting them past the angry table of people he'd just knocked into. He almost walked into another table and Alex foresaw it, yanking him to a stop.

"The shades gotta go, Garth!" she yelled over the headache-inducing electronic music.

"What?" he asked, pointing at his ear.

She raised her voice even more. "I said, the sha—"

"Just kiddin'!" He laughed and took off his sunglasses then tucked them into his pocket. He shouted over the din. "Heard ya the first time! I got ears like a snake! So check this place out, huh?"

The Halo was full to the gills, packed with people mingling, dancing, and drinking. There was a lounge area, a big dance floor, a currently empty stage, a bar, a DJ booth. A super high ceiling stretched out the expanse and exposed industrial beams gave the place a modern feel. On the ceiling, alien-like symbols made a mosaic in faint black-light paint. Alex thought the weird symbols almost looked like sloppy, cartoony Enochian. But it was hard to see very well and she moved her gaze onward to take in the rest of the club. Moody up-lighting set the scene and made for more atmosphere: bright pinks and vivid purples glowed off the walls and ceilings, an ever-changing rainbow of lights swept over the busy dance floor. Alex made several cops, a few plain-clothes and a few uniformed. Garth had told her that earlier how the club was under a strict watch and would close soon completely if the disappearances didn't stop. But apparently even with police presence, the disappearances were still happening. Last night, an arguing gay couple had disappeared right off the dance floor according to Garth.

As Alex and Garth stood there and observed how chaotic and noisy the joint was, Alex realized that this seemed like an unlikely and difficult place for a perp to pick victims. "How the hell would anyone even be able to see a fighting couple in this craziness?!" she asked Garth, leaning close to shout in his ear.

He mimicked her, putting his mouth right near her ear. "Maybe they're targeted outside of the club first?" Garth asked, deafening her.

Well if that were the case, if the couples were being chosen by some kind of human serial-killer or something at their jobs or homes, this was a huge waste of time. But, if somehow some paranormal baddie was choosing couples here at the club by supernatural means, they would find out soon enough, she guessed. Either way, the bar was looking pretty good to Alex and she pulled Garth (currently functioning as her walking cane) that way. "Let's get drinks."

They managed to get there without Alex tripping over her own feet. Garth ordered a Mike's Hard Lemonade—a dweeby, barely alcoholic drink—and then insisted he needed to take it slow if he wanted to be "any good" for the job. Alex got straight up Jack Daniels as usual and sipped on it thoughtfully as they skulked around the bar pointlessly. Alex was trying to respect that this was Garth's hunt, but she was itching to take control and do things her way, AKA, better. First, she would have broken in during the day and hidden a cache of weapons and resources for herself to access during this particular point of the job—as it was, Garth had a knife in an ankle holster, her angel blade strapped onto his other ankle precariously, and she had a gun barely hidden inside her inner-thigh holster.

It was bad enough that Alex felt so weaponless but they literally had no clue who or what was behind the disappearances… yet here they were, trying to lure out the baddie without any knowledge of who it was or what its weakness might be. Alex was all-in-all feeling a little apprehensive about Garth's hunting style (which seemed sort of cavalier). She was staying hyper-vigilant, trying to get a read on everyone in the nearby vicinity, trying to cast around for any clues about what sort of monster or whatever they were dealing with. Nearby there was a stressed-out looking bartender, a few flirting patrons seating along the bar, some gyrating couples nearby at the edge of the dance floor. Nothing out of the ordinary. No red flags at all.

Garth had already played journalist apparently and interviewed a few staff members and the club owner about the disappearances. One of the staff said he'd seen a couple on the dance floor arguing and pushing each other angrily and drunkenly—he'd looked away for one second, looked back, and they'd just vanished and hadn't been seen or heard from again. The other accounts of disappearances were all similar—they'd been in the club one second, gone the next. Alex glanced at Garth, who was bobbing his head to the electronic music. Alex couldn't hear a single real instrument in it.

Right. So, acting like an unhappy couple.

Alex downed the last of her liquid courage and glanced at Garth's drink. He'd had less than half of his beverage but something about his demeanor said tipsy. "Hey, you wanna take it easy there bud?" Alex asked, then made the decision for him and snatched the bottle away from him, giving him a you'll thank me later smile.

He burped loudly and made a sound of protest, closed a fist and thumped his chest uncomfortably, then looked around sort of aimlessly. "So should we dance?" Garth asked innocently, pointing to the dance floor with a really unsure scrunched up face.

"Dance?" Alex asked. She only danced when she was raging drunk, and only to classic rock. Not… this 'music' playing in the club. Eugh, no thank you. She shook her head no.

Garth seemed to remember why they were there. "Okay, well… let's just stand here and argue! Right? That's what unhappy couples do!" Garth was a little uncoordinated, clearly tipsy just as Alex had thought… from like four gulps of beer. "Just remember not to take any of the things I say serious," he warned covertly, then abruptly raised his voice to a deafening shout, putting an ugly look on his face… and proceeded to make the least convincing rant Alex had ever heard. He flung an arm out for drama. "You suck! Everything about you sucks!" he yelled, drawing a couple curious glances from people within a ten foot radius.

His choice of words and the jumpy way he was holding himself—arms ramrod straight at his sides, fists clenched, Alex had to try not to laugh at his sudden outburst. She leaned close, eyes shifty as she tried to be discreet. "That's not how people argue, Garth."

He didn't break whatever insane character he was playing at the moment. "Oh, how do they then?" he asked, sneering ridiculously and gesturing jerkily, reminding her of a cartoon character. "How do they fight? Huh? Oh my god oh my GODDDDD!" He suddenly grabbed his own hair with both hands. Alex's eyes were wide like saucers and she froze, not sure what to do—people weren't going to think they were an unhappy couple, they were going to think he was a nutjob (Alex was wondering at that point, honestly, if he were). What was he doing? Hadn't he ever, you know, seen real people? He continued his comical, enraged, soap-opera worthy rant. "Woman! You drive me crazy!" he continued at maximum volume. The bartender was definitely paying attention as Garth used his hands to emphatically flap around in the air. "I cannot with you anymore! Cannot! Will not! I'm so unhappy with you! UNHAPPY!"

Alex grabbed him by both arms. "Garth, stop, what are you doing?" she asked in a hiss. He winked at her super quick, that goofy smile breaking through for just a second before he suddenly resumed his antics.

"Oh, am I embarrassing you?!" he asked loudly, making a face like disgust, not taking her cues to take it down a notch. He pulled away and gave a dramatic finger point. "Well! You embarrass me! With your, your ways, and your face!" He suddenly leaned close, excited about something. "Slap me," he said loud enough only for her to hear. "Hard! Don't hold back, make it look good!" His voice raised back to a loud shout as he drew back again. "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it? Are you super unhappy? Do I make you miserable?!" He stood there expectantly and waited for her to slap him.

Not able to believe she was going along with this, Alex gathered all of her inner courage and prepared to say the dumbest thing she ever had. Thank god no one who knew her was here to see this. "You're the one who sucks... man!" She shouted, trying to put believable amounts of anger in her voice as she hauled back and slapped him in the face, not holding back at all.

And poor Garth. He didn't just reel from the hit. He fell down onto the floor on his back… and didn't move. Oh crap. Alex stared, wobbling in place on her stilettos. "Uh, Garth?" She went down onto her knees beside him, smacking him on the side of the face, but he was out cold. Not sure if that were hilarious or the worst, Alex made to pick him up. However, before she could do anything else, everything went black and she lost consciousness completely out of nowhere, with no discernible point of origin. Softly, like suddenly falling asleep.

---

There were hard metal lines poking Alex's back painfully and cold ground underneath her legs. She could hear the sound of the club music, muffled somewhere nearby. They were in some kind of old storage room that never got used—old broken glass from bottles littered the floor and cobwebs and dust covered the dim, dank space. Immediately nervous about spiders, Alex sat awkwardly and realized one of her wrists was cuffed… to an old rusty radiator she was slumped against. She gave a good yank and found herself very restrained. Beside her, Garth was still unconscious and cuffed too, his head lolling on his shoulder, mouth open with drool dripping down.

"Garth," she whispered. When he didn't respond, she reached out to smack him lightly and repeatedly.

"Five more minutes," he muttered, and she smacked harder, trying not to make too much noise in case the big bad was somewhere nearby. Garth's eyes flew open. "Ow!" He looked around and got his bearings, then stopped abruptly on one place. His mouth dropped open and a look of shocked uncertainty filled his face. "Uh…"

"Well. Well well well," came a soft male voice. Alex followed Garth's gaze and balked. Where there had been nothing and no one before there was now a heavyset, burly guy appearing to be in his mid-twenties. He had wild curling blondish hair, an untrimmed beard, and absolutely nothing on. His expression was dramatic and chastising. "How the turns have tabled," said the man as if in great superiority, then narrowed his eyes at them.

Alex made a sound and looked away, grimacing. "Aw, dude, why are you naked?" she complained, not even giving attention to his verbal gaffe.

"Why are you clothed?" he countered, but the way he asked was distinctly childlike—he shrugged widely, drew his face back into his neck, giving himself a triple-chin in the process as he widened his eyes and pulled a face. "We could drive ourselves crazy with these questions!" Alex tried just to look at his face. Everything else was… really uncomfortable to look at. And flaccid. Ugh. The naked guy paced, hands clasped behind himself. "Speaking of questions…" he stopped walking dramatically. "Where… did you… get this?!"

He had nothing in his hands and Alex glanced at Garth, who shrugged, looking as mystified as she was. "Get what?" she asked cautiously.

Naked man inspected his hands incredulously. "Wait… where did I put…" he looked around the dim room. He saw what he was looking for sitting on a large box and pounced on it, brandished the item high above his head. "This!"

Shit. Her angel blade. Even as Alex was wondering if she and Garth could pull the radiator off the wall with combined efforts or if she could shoot her handcuffs off—wait, gun was gone, dammit—she answered neutrally. "It's mine."

Naked guy seemed to think that was a load. "Cow excrement!" he shouted. Huh? Did he mean... 'bullshit'? "You think you're soooo smart, huh?" he asked in a clipped, breathy voice. "Trying to trick me? No one tricks Timmy. Ha! Ha ha, ha! You'd have to kill an angel to get their blade. So, lady in the shiny dress, what angel did you kill, hmmmmm?"

Was this guy for real? Alex stared, trying to figure out who he could possibly be. "Well, if you really have to know. Zachariah."

Timmy's face showed distaste. "Oh. Ohhhh. Ew. Hated that guy. Bleh." Sudden zeal and approval overcame his face. "You killed him?" He let out a sloppy sounding laugh that hiccuped at the end. "Super awesome."

The knowledge of angel stuff, the apparent involvement in couples disappearing, his nakedness, the angelic-looking symbols she'd glanced on the ceiling at the club… Alex's mental lightbulb went on brightly. "Wait a minute… are you a cupid?" she asked intensely.

Timmy's eyes went wide and he gasped, put a hand on his gaping mouth. "How'd you know that?" He looked at Garth. "How'd she know that?!"

"Are you the one behind all the disappearances from this club?" Alex pressed.

Timmy bared his teeth apologetically, putting his fingernails against his lower lips. "…Maybe?"

Alex leveled the cupid with an exasperated gaze. "Yes or no, Timmy."

Again, the cupid was dumbfounded. "How'd you know my name?" he asked in vast wonder.

Alex faltered. Was this an act or real? "…You said it a minute ago."

Timmy nodded slowly, studying her with a small, crazy-eyed smile. "Fascinating…"

Garth leaned close to Alex, spoke under his breath. "Guy seems a little unstable." Alex cut a quick glance at him. A little?

The cupid had his eye on them, and he looked like he was feeling triumphant. "Also, I know you're not a real couple," he said, making a prissy face. "Cat's outta the bath." Another jumbled up saying.

"Sure we're a couple, aren't we Garth honey," Alex said, not really even trying.

Garth grinned, punching her in the shoulder lightly with the hand that wasn't cuffed. "Sure are, love duck."

Timmy chuckled, pacing again. Everything swung around when he walked and Alex suppressed a grossed out sound as she looked away. "Okay, there are three reasons I know you're not a couple," Timmy said with utmost enunciation, holding an index finger out for emphasis. "A, because you kinda suck at pretending to be one. Two, because I'm cupid."

Garth caught Timmy's gaffe and looked at Alex sidelong. "Is he cupid, or is he stupid?" he asked in a sly mutter.

Unfortunately, Timmy heard and utter devastation overcame his features. "That is mean," he said as if he were greatly insulted, voice rising emotionally into an all-out wail. "That is so mean!" He turned his back on them and gave them an excellent view of his saggy ass as he sobbed into his hands.

"Whoa." Garth looked like he either felt bad or impressed. "…I made cupid cry."

Alex shook her head. She was about a hundred percent done with this this day. "They do that a lot."

"We do not!" Timmy retorted passionately, whirling around to face them again. Alex valiantly averted her eyes from his swinging junk. "And I'm not crying, I'm just allergic to meanies!" Timmy threw Alex's blade down petulantly and Alex eyed it longingly, pulling at her handcuff. What was it with angels and handcuffing her? "It's just really hard, okay?" Timmy asked.

"What have you done with the couples you took?" Alex asked, keeping her voice hard and assertive. His crying wasn't gonna get to her.

Timmy grew desolate and irate. "I love love, okay? But also, I've noticed love sucks! And I've had it! Because no one stays togethered even when they promised they would—and what's worst is when people stay together but treat each other so mean. It's not right!" He let his hands slap down nosily against his naked, hairy thighs and his great passion faded into deep sadness. "That's why I've been putting them into time out."

Intent, Alex leaned forward. "You what?"

"They deserve it, okay?" Timmy said defensively then gave an exasperated laugh. "I don't care if it's not Heaven's orders, the war that Castiel started means I can do what I want!"

At the abrupt mention of him, Alex went still in surprise. Garth however looked at the cupid sadly, gave him puppy dog eyes, and spoke to him with overly-sensitive tones. "What did you do with the people, Timmy? You can tell me. I'm here to listen."

Timmy gave Garth a baleful face. "No, you're here to say mean things to me!" he said, then stuck his tongue out.

"You said you've been putting couples into time out—what's that mean?" Alex prompted, totally focused on finding out what was going on. Beside her, Garth was fidgeting for whatever reason.

"It me-aaaaans they were supposed to love each other," Timmy replied, his tone bordering on sassy and angry at the same time. "The world and stuff messed up their love, so I took them out of the world." He seemed very proud of himself, like he'd had a stroke of genius. "I locked them all away until they love each other again like they're s'posed to." He paused, cringing as he scratched the back of his neck. "…So far though they all just kinda hate me."

Alex stared at him testily. He seemed like a child, so she spoke to him as such. "You can't do that, Timmy, you have to let those people go."

He began to shake his head vehemently. "No, no, nooooo. Nope! Nuh-uh. They haven't learned their lesson yet."

Beside Alex, Garth had stopped fidgeting. "If you don't let them out," he said with utmost seriousness, "we'll have to stop you."

Timmy narrowed his eyes. "Those are fighting words you just talked…" his face changed to amused questioning. "But how are you gonna get me if you're stuck to that refrigerator?"

Garth suddenly shot to his feet and shouted "Auuuughhhhh!" as he charged Timmy. It was probably supposed to sound like a war-cry, but it sounded more like a shriek of terror. Stunned that he'd somehow slipped his cuffs, Alex stared dumbly for a couple seconds at what was the goofiest and stupidest fight she'd ever seen.

Garth barreled into cupid and promptly bounced right off, falling back as Timmy laughed. Not giving up, Garth grabbed Timmy's ankle and pulled on him valiantly, trying to yank him down. Timmy flailed with great uncoordinated arm-spins and fell sideways then grabbed onto a metal support beam to keep half-standing even as Garth stood up and made two fists, held them in front of himself all wrong, then jumping around like a fight-ready video game character. He looked like a parody of himself, and Timmy, naked, indignant, and close to tears at being attacked let loose a cry and charged Garth.

They began to slap each other in the face, leaning their heads back with arms at full length. An exasperated Alex stood as much as her cuffs would let her and put her foot to the wall, grabbed the radiator with both hands, and began to yank on the radiator with all her strength, trying to pull it out of the wall. It was old, and her prospects were good—it shuddered and she doubled her efforts as behind her, Garth and Timmy continued to slap each other hard, then suddenly took hold of each other by the throats.

"Use the blade, Garth!" Alex called, grunting as she pulled hard on the hard metal radiator with both hands. The structure began shuddering as the drywall began to give out. Encouraged, Alex pulled even harder, cursing the radiator under her breath. "Son of a bitch, come on!" she yelled, turning red from exertion. Just—a little—more!

Garth head-butted Timmy... and subsequently knocked himself out. "Ow—!" Timmy complained, holding a hand to his head. Then he saw how Garth was laying unconscious. He pumped his hands into the air with sudden delight and elation. "Ha! I win! I win!" He backed up, celebrating his victory as he shrieked with laughter. He turned around to address Alex, who had just fallen over and taken the just-freed radiator with her. Unfortunately for Timmy, he turned around and walked right into a low-hanging metal beam—which he hit forehead-first. Cross-eyed and slack-jawed, Timmy went timber like a tree.

Alex, out of breath from wrestling the radiator she was still cuffed to but now mobile with, staring at the two unconscious guys dumbly. "You have got to be kidding me."

So, apparently cupids were a lot weaker than regular angels if he could get knocked out like that—but how long would Timmy be out for? Alex stood up with effort, teetering on the heels she was wearing but forced to stay in them because of the broken glass on the floor. She hugged the massive radiator to her chest and grunted from exertion as she shakily walked all of five steps to the fire alarm near the door. She pulled it with some creative maneuvering and immediately alarms blared and she heard water spraying outside of the room, people beginning to scream and run a few rooms over in the main room of the nightclub. Good. Civilians would all clear out and be safer from whatever threat, if any, Timmy posed. The sprinkler in this room sputtered weakly and no water came out. It was rusted shut. Alex tried the door while precariously balancing the damn radiator in her arms. The way out was locked solidly. Great. There was another door marked Basement a little further back. So, no way out, Garth useless on the floor… Wait! Her angel blade. She inched her way to it, heels crunching on glass and errant trash and debris.

The radiator's dead weight was killing her and she wracked her brain for a way to get out of them. She could break her own thumb to slip out, but that was last-resort. Where was her gun so she could shoot the chain in half? It was nowhere to be seen at all. She had nothing in the way of a lock-pick and anyway, with the revelation that this whole thing was angelic in nature… Alex bit her lip in hesitation, then decided it didn't hurt to ask. She looked upwards in trepidation. "Uh… Cas? I don't mean to bother you bu—"

"Alex, what is it?"

She turned at the sound of his familiar voice so fast that she almost fell. He steadied her. His sudden presence and proximity was startling. He took in how she clutched the heavy radiator to herself and wore such a strange outfit. With rising concern, his eyes briefly took in Timmy and Garth before he looked back to her in alarm. She saw how he looked her over for injury and noticed the handcuffs. "Are you all right? What's happening here?" he asked, his tone becoming off-kilter in sudden angered demanding. Before she answered, he was already snapping her cuff chains in half with his hands alone; he took the radiator from her with a single hand and tossed it aside like it weighed nothing. It cracked the cement floor when it landed.

"Uh—it's—a hunt," she said, staring at the radiator he'd tossed in something like awe. He took hold of her wrist with a gentle hand. The cuff still encircled her wrist until Cas took it between both of his thumbs and forefingers, twisting the metal apart and breaking it easily. She watched as the cuff fell to the floor and she was yet again surprised by him. Even though she knew how powerful he was, it was stilling to see it with her own eyes again. Cas took hold of her by both arms, looking over her sequin dress and shoes with obvious confusion. "What's going on, Alex?" The anxiety in his voice brought her back from the haze of surprise she'd been in. "You're all right?"

"I'm fine," she assured, brushing it aside. "One of yours, terrorizing the locals." Alex nodded toward Timmy.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the cupid and then seemed to recognize him. "Timeus." His eyes narrowed into little slits as he looked to Alex for explanation. "Terrorizing how?"

"He's taking unhappy couples and locking them up somewhere, don't know where yet." She paused, a little nervous. "Is this a Heaven thing…?"

Castiel's furrowed brow darkened and she saw his guard raise imperceptibly. "No. Right now the cherubs are doing next to nothing because of the anarchy up there," he said slowly, clearly thinking hard. "Timeus must be acting on his own. But why?"

"From what he said, sounded like he jumped on the free will bandwagon," Alex answered, glancing in the unconscious cupid's direction then grimacing and looking away again.

Alex missed Cas's look of pure guilt at the comment about free will and what it meant: that Castiel held himself responsible at the root since he was the one who'd started the war for choice and freedom in the first place. He redirected the conversation. "Who is the small boy?"

Alex chuckled at that comment. "That's Garth. A hunter friend. And believe it or not... a full-grown man." She looked back at Cas and her expression grew softer, slightly concerned. His energy was off. "You okay, Cas?" She worried all over again when she thought of the war, him fighting, and their time apart. "Everything all right up there?"

He looked at her sidelong. "I wouldn't say everything's all right. But I'm alive. And not past victory yet." He sounded haunted. He moved forward toward the cupid, kneeling down beside him. His demeanor troubled Alex, but she pushed it aside for the moment as Cas focused on the task at hand. "I need to wake him up and question him."

Cas put his hand against Timmy's head and Timmy's eyes snapped open then widened in stunned recognition. "Brother! Castiel!" A huge grin came over Timmy's face as he sat up and threw his meaty arms around Cas's shoulders in a tight hug which Cas grunted disapproval at. Timmy however was cuddling his head into Cas's shoulder, shutting his eyes, smiling to himself, and making a soft sigh that sounded like mmm.

Clearly aggravated, Cas stood up easily even as Timmy held on. Cas held the cupid at arms length and leveled him with a serious, impatient look. "Timeus, what is going on here? Explain yourself."

Looking like a scolded child, Timmy tried to appear in control and certain of himself. Unfortunately, he didn't quite manage. "First of all, it's Timmy now, because…" he faltered, "reasons that I don't remember."

Approaching but not too much, Alex stooped modestly and carefully in the short dress to pick up her angel blade from where it had been thrown. Timmy looked at her and frowned, then made a face of gasping discovery as he looked at Cas then back to Alex again. "Wait… waaaait. Ohh!" He grabbed Cas in vast excitement, looking at Alex in utter delight. "That's her! That's her!" He exclaimed. Alex was confused even as Cas looked down in what appeared to be mild embarrassment. "Wow. Wow wow wow WOW!" Timmy yelled zealously, mouth open in a wide smile of jubilation.

"I'm who?" Alex asked, realizing that she was shrinking away just slightly from Timmy's crazed smiling face. Cas was holding him in place, but it didn't seem to matter. Wonder and awe and starstruck giddiness held the cupid in place.

"The one he fell in love with, of course! I see it now! I can see it!" Timmy replied in zany cadence, looking at Cas and then her again, seeing an invisible something between them. "It's the most uniquest match of all time, the most epic love story I've ever heard! The other angels are turd munchers for saying the mean stuff they do about you two—I mean so what if it's not normal or isn't allowed?! We cupids know it's not all bad." He got a dreamy look on his face. "Love isn't about following the rules, it's about knowing who you belong with," he said knowingly, drawing an even deeper confused face from Alex. That was actually kind of beautiful. Timmy was still going, his expression dreamy again as he looked at her with a fond smile. "All of Heaven knows about who you are, the human Castiel loves, but no one said how pretty you were, in your shiny dress with your brown hair and sharp shoes… can I have your autograph, Alex Winchester?"

Alex wasn't exactly sure what to say to all that. "Uh…"

"Or a hug, let me hug you hello!" he said, and made to move, but Cas gripped him all the tighter.

"No hugging," Castiel commanded gruffly. Timmy looked confused as to why. Cas was full of chagrin. "You're naked."

"I'm always naked!" Timmy said proudly, not understanding even for a second.

"My point exactly," Cas said wearily, then stepped back, keeping himself between Timmy and Alex. "Timeus, enough with this. Answer my question. She told me you're interfering with couples without orders."

Timmy's expression went wan, then annoyed, and he gave Alex a dirty look like he was mad at being told on. He groaned loudly and rolled his eyes and could have been four-years-old for the way he was acting. "Yes, fine, okay?!" He began to rant in great animation and passion: "No one cares about love anymore! All these couples being meanies to each other, being horrible and rude to the person they used to love the mostest? What's right about that?! And all these married couples who never see each other or spend time or go on dates with each other anymore! Why would you promise to be with someone forever then not work on making the relationship nice? I hate when love falls apart, I hate it! These people I put into time out… they asked for it, they went back on their promises and the sacredness of the love they found—they were treating each other like poo and fighting and acting bad! So I'm making it right. I'm making them remember why they love each other!" He took on a wide-eyed innocence in an attempt to sell it.

Cas and Alex glanced at each other in mutual uncertainty, neither sure how to respond. Alex spoke first and didn't say anything about his opinions because angering him or something wasn't smart. Finding out where these poor saps he'd kidnapped was priority. "Where'd you lock them up, Timmy?"

A smug smile came over his face. "Wouldn't you like to know?" His eyes slid to the basement door tellingly and Alex called his bluff, moving her foot slightly as if she were about to take a step.

"The basement then, huh?" she asked.

Timmy face-palmed. "Aaaauuughhh. Fine, the basement!" he moaned, then quickly changed his face to assertive earnestness. "But they can't come out yet! None of them are in love again yet."

Alex scoffed. "Timmy, you can't just shove people into loving each other. If it's over, it's over."

Petulant, his chin wobbling with upset, Timmy stomped his foot down. "No! Love is supposed to be until forever, I don't care what you say."

Alex tried a little bit more gentleness. "You can't force it, come on. Love doesn't always last. You're a cupid, shouldn't you know that?"

Timmy pulled a highly bitchy face. "I believe in true, lasting, eternal love, okay? So sue me! I believe when two people say they love each other, when they're meant to be together, they shouldn't ever let themselves fall out of love!" He was heartfelt about it, almost teary-eyed at this point. "Just because things get hard and they don't always feel happy doesn't mean people should drop everything. I want love to last." He looked at Cas with big pleading puppy dog eyes, then at Alex. His eyes locked on hers and he frowned a little, his face fell. "…You're having doubts," he suddenly accused in a soft surprised voice and looked at Cas in mounting horror. "About him!"

Alex was shocked at Timmy's sudden proclamation and Cas's immediate startled, disconcerted look of is that true? "What? No I'm not!"

Timmy gaped as if he were shocked by audacity. "Yes you are!" he insisted, wide eyes staring at her in wounded disbelief. Timmy shook his head as if heartbroken and he appealed as sudden tears glittered in his eyes. "How could you? Don't you know how much he loves you? It's all Heaven talks about some days and you're here on earth… doubting him?!"

It was all Heaven talked about some days?

Cas was looking at Alex with a growing look of surprised hurt and Alex shook her head vehemently in denial, trying to sound flippant, trying to scoff off the cupid's words. "I don't know what he's talking about—Cas, he's crazy." And it occurred to Alex she was so shaken up by the accusations... because they were somewhat true.

"Psssh, please! I can feel it!" Timmy replied indignantly, then pointed a finger at both of them in turn. "I should lock you both up, too!"

Castiel's face was a hard, indifferent, businesslike mask again. "I'm sorry Timeus. But for now, you're the one who's going to be locked up."

Timmy looked shocked. "What?! Why?"

"This isn't allowed," Castiel told him firmly. "You can't just do whatever you want."

"But that's what your war is for, isn't it?!" Timmy asked, astounded. "So we can do what we want?"

Clear exasperation overcome Cas. "No, it's not that simple," he said with clear frustration that he tried to hide. "Free will is—" he paused, let out a heavy breath, and shook his head grumpily. "I don't have time to explain. And I have a feeling it would be lost on you, anyway." He gave Alex a brief look and put a hand on Timmy's shoulder. "I'll be right back."

The two angels disappeared and Alex stood in the sudden quiet (well, she could hear garbled music, fire alarms, and sprinklers in the background) feeling a little sick. Cas had looked so quietly heartbroken at Timmy's accusations of Alex's very real questions and doubts. She hadn't wanted for Cas to know about her inner conflict for that exact reason. She hadn't wanted to hurt or disappoint him, two things he clearly was. Dammit. She couldn't do anything right, not even love.

"Ugggghhhh," came a pathetic little moan on the floor behind her. Garth was stirring with a hand on his head as he sat up. "What'd I miss?"

Alex stretched a tight smile across her face and pushed away her deeper thoughts, compartmentalizing her inner struggle. She held a hand down to Garth and hauled his light frame up easily—starting to maybe get the hang of the heels she was in. "Well, Timmy's taken care of, on his way to Heaven prison—and the couples are all locked in that basement."

Garth looked impressed then unsure. "How—" he started to ask, then his eyes jumped to a spot over her shoulder and his eyes went wide. "Whoa."

Behind Alex, Cas had reappeared and he approached her side, his expression inscrutable. Garth almost looked like he was about to try and attack Cas (after all, kid had no clue who he was). Alex held out a staying hand before that could happen. "Garth, this is Cas." She paused heavily, not sure how to word it. "He's a friend."

Cas glanced at her sidelong and she guiltily met the glance with one of her own. Well, what was she supposed to say?

"The Cas?" Garth asked, oblivious to the tension there. "No way!"

"You've… heard of me?" Cas asked uncertainly. Alex was surprised, too.

"Well sure I have," Garth said affably. "Word gets around in the hunting community." He stretched his bony hand out for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, amigo," he said, shaking Cas's larger hand very firmly and pleasantly as he bowed his head dramatically. "Garth Fitzgerald the fifth. Hunter, chess champion, sharp cheese aficionado." Alex looked at Garth sidelong. He really was the weirdest.

"Castiel," the angel replied then paused, sounded uncertain about the next part. "Angel of the Lord."

"So balls," Garth said admiringly, his eyes a little dreamy. He then nodded his head toward the basement door. "What say we free some unhappy couples, huh?"

That's exactly what they did. Cas removed the basement door from its hinges easily (the door had been rusted shut; apparently the basement had been inaccessible for years and Timmy had teleported his victims in). Huddled in the basement with lots of empty french fry boxes and bad attitudes they found seven couples who were divided—men on one side of the room, women on another, except for the gay couple. One of the men had sided with the women. Apparently Timmy had seen TV commercials and thought that french fries were an acceptable nutrition source for humans. He'd fed them nothing but fries in huge quantities for the past two weeks. The people in the basement were all hungry, cranky, filthy, and definitely not in love with anything or anyone except the idea of escape. Alex found herself wondering how these people, who had once been coupled up and in love with each other, could take opposite sides of the room and glower hatefully at one another.

It was sad when love was broken, when what was once close and intimate and fond became harsh and disconnected and broken. When she thought that, Cas caught her eye and she looked away, guilty at the pain hiding in his eyes.

Cas kindly teleported all of the disgruntled people to the nearest emergency room and returned to Alex and Garth then helped them get out of the locked storeroom—which, as they learned, had been closed off completely from the nightclub. That's why Timmy had been able to keep the people in the basement without being noticed—the wall in front of the door to the storeroom had been rebuilt completely for who-knows-what reason (probably an attempt to duck a health code violation, Alex guessed). No one had even known about the basement.

Once they were back in the main area of the nightclub, Cas took one look at the ceiling and said the symbols there were Timmy's own surveillance system, so to speak. He then locked all the doorways into the club supernaturally to prevent firefighter or police presence. Cas stood in the middle of the wet dance floor and stretched a hand up, erasing the symbols bit by bit, his face a handsome mask of concentration. The lights still beamed down on the dance floor, casting a hot-pink glow around him, reflecting off the water pooled in places from the sprinklers going off. From the beams in the ceiling, water dripped in an uneven, unpredictable pattern. He was beautiful in that strange, unexpected setting.

Alex watched him, not sure if he would be angry with her for what Timmy said or disappointed. Disappointed was worse. Her nerves were shot because ever since Timmy said she doubted Castiel, Cas's eyes had been looking at her with dread and sadness alike. As a result, Alex felt small inside for her doubts, weak because she let the questions have power over her. Stupid because Castiel loved her and she knew that, dammit. With Cas nearby, sending a glance to her in between his work, the only person she doubted at the moment was herself. Why hadn't anyone ever told her relationships could be so difficult and painful? Everything had seemed fine the last time they were together in that motel room, but then the time apart—not even two weeks—had eaten Alex alive. Was two weeks really all it took for her to lose faith in him? She wanted to smash her own face into a wall out of the bitterness she suddenly harbored for herself.

She remembered reading the predictable parts in romance novels where the couple didn't see eye to eye or one had doubts about the other—she'd read those parts of the stories and roll her eyes, complaining internally at the couple to just get over it and get back together already. Now she was in that part of the story and it was so much worse and harder than imaginable. Love seemed so much easier on paper, when it was two imagined people in some made-up world far away.

"I was way off about him," Garth said admiringly. He stood beside Alex with his arms crossed as he watched Cas with fascination.

Taken out of her thoughts, Alex looked at Garth sidelong. "Huh?"

"Not the bad boy type who likes clubbing and yoga," Garth said, a smile playing on his lips. He looked at Alex knowingly. "You're into the tall, mysterious, dashingly trench-coated variety."

Yes. Yes she was. Alex looked at Cas again, seeing how close he was yet feeling the distance deeply. "Maybe I am," she replied softly, eyeing the angel who had married her in secret.

Garth chuckled to himself and Alex turned her gaze from Cas, fixing Garth with a questioning little look. She was curious about something. "How'd you get out of the cuffs back there, Garth?"

Garth threw his hands up in a humble shrug. "Bony wrists and double joints, Lexie, what can I say?" He put a hand on his hip and leaned casually, looking around the club with a fond smile. "Crazy hunt, right? Think we made a pretty good team back there."

Alex gave a good natured, short, and derisive laugh. "Best dressed at least," she wisecracked sarcastically, eyeing his ridiculous getup. Garth however thought she was serious.

"Hells yeah, muchacho!" He replied, holding his hand up for a high-five which Alex couldn't leave him hanging for. She half-heartedly gave him his high-five, the best she could do at the time... she just wasn't in an elated mood like he was. "What about some real music, huh?" Garth asked, ducking behind the DJ table and fiddling around with the complicated-looking console of knobs, dials, and slides.

"What, you know how to work that thing?" Alex asked in surprise.

Garth was pulling on the over-sized headphones. "Used to be a DJ," he replied and gave one of the discs a good scritch-scratch for effect. "Worked my way through college spinnin' discs!" There was no end to things about Garth that were surprising. The hunter began fiddling with the playlist and Alex looked to Cas again, contemplating him. He looked like he was finishing up and a little anxious, Alex decided to go to him, maybe try and smooth things over.

Carefully, Alex walked to Cas through several little puddles across the huge dance floor, congratulating herself on the beginnings of being able to walk in these damn shoes. When the angel noticed her approach, he turned to face her straight on, watchful of her steps. Walking shouldn't have to be such a chore, she reflected, but was proud of herself for not falling—and just as she thought that, one of the heels turned out from under her and she stumbled badly, lost balance, and made a sound of surprise. Cas was suddenly five feet closer and had her in his arms, breaking her fall.

Surprised, Alex straightened slowly as she found her footing again. His face was hard to read and she tried to smile despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Can't walk in these damn shoes," she commented pitiably, trying to fill the awkward silence. She was standing again and Cas let go of her. His downcast gaze, his look of general hurt—Alex felt utterly devastated.

Cas didn't move far away, but his body language was different than before. Stiffer, closed off. Ashamed, almost. He didn't look at her when he spoke—instead he looked down to the side. "I'll be keeping a better eye out over the cherubim," he said heavily, avoiding the elephant in the room. "I knew some of them were restless, but I didn't know any had done as Timeus did." He shook his head and his features seemed so age-weary to Alex in that moment. "They aren't warriors. They're typically quite useless on the battlefield."

"No kidding," Alex said softly. Cas still wouldn't look at her.

The music abruptly changed from pulsing electronica trance to the familiar piano-intro of the Rod Stewart version of I'll Stand By You. Alex looked back at Garth, who gave a huge two thumbs up from the DJ booth, grinning and nodding like he was doing them a huge favor. "Oh god," Alex muttered, putting her face into her hand, embarrassed by the song choice and also how Garth was clearly trying to get them to dance with each other.

Cas followed her gaze to Garth, who was still flashing the thumbs up and a huge stupid grin. "Your friend seems... very peculiar."

Alex made a soft pssh sound. "That's one word for him."

The cheesy, soft love ballad echoed through the empty club.

"When the night falls on you, you don't know what to do—nothing you confess, could make me love you less. I'll stand by you."

Cas frowned in confusion as he finally looked at Alex through veiled eyes. "…Why did he change the song?"

Alex shrugged. She was the one who couldn't quite look at him anymore. "I think he wants us to dance."

The tension between them was so great that it transcended their current conversation. Cas looked unsure. "I… don't think I dance."

"I don't think you do either," Alex said softly, and she was torn by utter love of him and feelings of self-loathing. Wordlessly, she drifted closer and put her arms around his middle. With the heels on, she was his height, more or less, and was able to rest her cheek against the curve of his shoulder. She felt his arms uncertainty and haltingly return the hug. For a moment, they stood there like that, embracing in mutual trepidation, each caught in their own worries. What the hell had happened? How did things always get turned upside down like this?

"You didn't tell me you would still go on hunts," Cas finally said, his low warm voice soft in her ear. "I thought you were going to stay at Bobby's."

His voice soothed her—he sounded more like himself at that moment. "Well I am, for the most part," she replied, head still on his shoulder. A rueful expression saddened her face further. "Took up residence in the attic, actually. But… couldn't resist the lure of a job, I guess. Feeling kinda restless." Restless was just the tip of the iceberg of the things she was feeling. But right now, that wasn't important. She drew back, arms still tucked around his torso. "And hey, I got to see you, right?" She tried for a smile, but the confused and wounded look in Cas's eyes made her falter.

"Why did he say that?" Cas asked abruptly, making Alex's stomach twist unpleasantly. "About you doubting?" He paused, and the way it bothered him was so apparent. "Cherubs are almost incapable of deceit. They're built much more simply than other angels."

Yeah, she'd definitely gotten that. His question begged to be answered and Alex tried to put it into words that wouldn't upset him further. "I… just miss you so much," she confessed honestly, nervously, her stomach tumbling around in distress. If she said this wrong or somehow made the pain in his eyes worse, she couldn't bear it. She tried to word herself carefully. "And it's hard, because…" she took a long pause. "Every part of my life feels uncertain right now, I guess. And… you're always gone." At the pained look on his face she rushed to tell him she wasn't outright complaining or trying to be utterly selfish. "And I know why, don't feel bad about it—you can't be everywhere at once, you know? And keeping the apocalypse from restarting's important. Top priority. I know that. And I'm proud of you for fighting." When she'd first met him, he'd had no causes he fought for, only orders he followed. "But knowing why you're away doesn't make it any easier." Her voice broke and wavered. "I worry about you all the time."

He seemed both touched and even further saddened at the exact same time. "Thank you," he said, an unexpected response. His eyes were downcast again, weighted in burden. Alex studied him in growing concern.

"Cas—what is it?" Something was off about him, and new worries began to grow in her mind and heart.

"I worry too." His eyes found hers again. "That I won't be enough to win this war. That everything I fear will be realized. That everything I've done will have been in vain. And that you'll… tire of waiting for me."

That last part was devastating. She shook her head vehemently, meaning every word. "No. No, I won't," she insisted in a low, strong, resolved voice. Everything was suddenly wrong—the music, the wide-open cold feeling of the club, the bright lights, Garth nearby. "Can we… just get outta here?" she asked Cas softly. She saw confirmation in his eyes and turned to Garth, who was coming out from the booth. "Garth! We're heading out."

He smiled crookedly, nodding easily, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm about to dip out the back."

Alex teetered her way over to him, Cas right behind her. "Thanks for an interesting day," she told Garth politely, distracted. "See you later?"

Garth grinned. "Of course! Someday maybe I get to meet those two crazy brothers of yours, huh?" He made an eager sort of face.

Alex shook her head at him, unable to do anything but smile. She really hoped he stayed alive. He was kinda special, in his own very oddball way. "Yeah, maybe."

Garth turned to Cas and clapped a hand onto his shoulder, giving him a serious look. "Take good care of this one, Cassie. She's special." Alex felt her eyebrows rising. 'Cassie?' Garth held his arms out to the angel with a playful and friendly smile. "Bring it in, buddy." And with that, the gangly hunter hugged a very uncertain and perturbed looking Cas then he turned to Alex and enveloped her in a tight, thumping hug too. "It's been real, ya'll," he said, then raised two fingers to his temple in farewell, turning to head for the back entrance of the club.

Alex watched him go, hearing 'his jam' playing in her head briefly as he loped out in long strides. "Bye Garth."

Taking in a deep and steadying breath, Alex turned to face Cas again, who waited silently. Wordlessly, he reached out and touched her shoulder, instantly taking them to the quiet and comforting space of Bobby's attic. They stood near the window, beside the bed, and the sudden transition from noisy club to quiet attic was jarring.

The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm glow across the small, dark space. Outside, the night sky was the darkest black. Cas looked around the attic, and Alex found it strange, thrilling, and sad all at once that he was there again with her. The last time they'd been there together ran through her mind briefly.

Cas's eyes traversed the small space—the disorganized books, the unmade bed, her bag on the ground with clothes scattered all around it, the two boxes stacked as a nightstand beside the bed. There was a pen and a notepad there, an ancient Egyptian lore book too. "You said that you're… living here?"

Alex sat on the bed to take off the heels which were killing her feet by now. "Mm-hmm," she confirmed, almost nervous about whatever kind of conversation was about to take place. "Sorting the stacks, helping Bobby out."

She got one shoe off, then the other, wondering why Cas was being silent. Then he spoke. "You chose the attic," he uttered softly, startling and stilling her, his eyes studying her quietly as she looked up at him wordlessly. "Last time you were here, you took a room downstairs," he said. It was almost a question he was asking: Did you choose the attic because of us?

Sometimes when he knew things about her like that, Alex felt very much stripped of pretense. She was barefoot now and had her hands on either side of herself as she sat. "The attic has more meaning for me," she said softly, and she thought from the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what she meant. Watching Cas as he stood off by several feet broke her heart and Alex felt the silence and separation down to her bones. Her voice softened further. "I don't know why Timmy said what he did, Cas." His eyes shifted to hers and the space between them felt impossibly vast. She felt like she was lying, and he seemed to think she wasn't telling the entire truth, either… but he was deflated about it, not incensed.

"I don't want you to doubt me." His pained earnestness was crushing, as was the way he seemed to see through her to the root of the issue; the way he was forgiving her wordlessly. "Or what… what I feel about you." The things carried in the weight of his words were devastating and painful—and Alex felt lower than low for doubting him ever, at all, even once. He turned away to look out the window and Alex stood up. It was almost like he was trying to hide himself from her. "But I understand completely," Cas continued. He sounded as guilty as she felt. "I've wounded you." Alex wanted to cry because when he said that she knew he understood. "I've gone against my vows," he said, emotionally compromising her further. "I don't feel I can ever apologize enough."

"You don't need to apologize anymore," Alex appealed, trying to be understand and gentle but firm despite her own emotional distress. She came to stand beside him and touched the back of his arm, peering up at the side of his face. Her chest was tight with emotional pain. "It's in the past now," she said, willing to put it all behind them, once and for all. "I don't doubt that you love me. Not at all." He looked up from where his eyes had been downcast, meeting her gaze. She abruptly thought that maybe he wasn't who she'd been doubting at all this whole time. "I... I think I doubt myself," she said, voice soft in epiphany.

Cas took in her dejected features and his own feelings of inadequacy were forgotten as he turned to face her straight on. "Why? I don't understand."

Embarrassed at herself and not totally sure, Alex shook her head, looking down. She wasn't exactly the poster-child for self-confidence and had always thought herself unworthy of Cas's love. Maybe that's where the self-doubt came from. "I don't understand either," she said, shaking her head again. "I'm just… bad at trusting lately, I guess," she murmured, ashamed. "And what happened this past year did something to me. To us."

He took a long, heavy pause. "I know."

Their eyes met and locked, and she was abruptly taken back to the many moments that had brought them together, cemented their bond, and knit them together forever. Love rose up in her powerfully, and that feeling was greater than any doubt or heartache she possessed. The time apart sucked, but she had to let it stop getting to her. Cas needed her to be strong for him. He needed support and affirmation right now. He hadn't asked her for it outright because he either didn't know to or didn't want to impose. But now that she thought that, Alex felt conviction rising up inside, constricting her chest as her fighting spirit came alive. If there was anything worth fighting for out there, it was this—them. She reached her hand out just barely, brushed her fingers against his, then slipping her hand into his. "Even though bad things happened, I won't give up on this," she said, brave, renewed, determined not to let her doubts control her like that ever again even though it was scary. "Even though it's hard as hell. I promise. And I'm sorry." For hurting himl, for making him sad, for adding more burden to his breaking shoulders.

Cas appeared to be touched and he shook his head. "Don't be sorry," he said, softening. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"No you're not," she insisted quietly, then let a sad, slow smile crook her mouth upwards on one side. They could probably stand there all night and say they were sorry and argue about who was sorrier, but that would get them nowhere. "How about we both stop being sorry and just get through this?" she asked faintly, hopeful despite her instinctual fear of being hurt again. "Together?"

His eyes softened and he took her into his arms then, embracing her with all the conviction he'd lacked before, holding her in a solid hug that melted anxiety. "Yes," he said, his deep voice reverberating through her body because of their proximity. He cradled her with familiar tenderness and Alex's eyes fell shut. Her heart, which had been beating fast in unease calmed. Relief swept through her like the incoming tide and she tightened her arms around him. And then Cas stiffened.

Alex drew back to look at him and his face showed deeply distressed thought. "What is it?"

He seemed reluctant. Afraid almost. "You realize the day Raphael gets a new vessel I'll have to… stay away again, don't you?" No, she hadn't.

"But what about that spell thing you did before in Pennsylvania to hide me from him?" she asked, sick at the thought of being separated like they'd been for that cursed silent year.

Cas shook his head mournfully. "Weak, shoddy, ineffective." At the look on her face, Cas's features grew painfully sympathetic and longing at the same time. "I won't risk you, Alex. Raphael is too powerful, and if he got his hands on you…" Cas's jaw tightened and he shook his head, looking down, no doubt imagining a hundred horrible scenarios. "There is no telling the tortures he would make you face." He took hold of her hands sadly, sounded confused and lost about what he said next. "All because of the love he knows that I have for you."

Sometimes she felt guilty for what she meant to him when he said things like that.

"Look," Alex said waveringly, because she couldn't do that, she couldn't wallow in the dark possibilities of the future, she needed hope and she needed to know there was light at the end of the tunnel—and she had a feeling Cas needed those things, too. "If he gets a vessel again, we know better now. You have a phone you can call me with to tell me. You could even mail a damn letter to Bobby's—I'd know what happened this time, I know you'd make sure." He seemed depressed at everything she said and Alex put a hand on his face, tried to bring him back from the abyss. "Cas," she pleaded, feeling his sadness like it were her own. "Don't look so sad, it's killing me."

His eyes met hers and shocking amounts of weariness swam in the crystal depths. "This war is tearing me apart, Alex," he confessed, and the vulnerability he showed was staggering. "The burdens on me are impossible. I want it to be over." He was afraid, he was stressed out beyond compare, he was carrying the weight of the world but he only had two hands.

How utterly powerless to help him she felt in that moment. "Oh Cas." She wanted it to be over, too. Alex moved her hand from his face to the back of his neck, trying to put reassurance into the way she touched him, looked at him, spoke to him. "It's gonna be okay," she insisted, putting assertiveness and determination in her voice. "We're gonna get through this. All of it."

Cas looked rueful—like he thought it was a nice thought, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. "You have no way of knowing that," he said softly.

"I do though," Alex replied stubbornly, because if she knew one thing, she knew Cas had it in him to win this war and that sometimes having someone believe in you could make the difference. "Look at me, Cas." He did. "Come Hell or high water, we're getting through this." She sealed the promise by leaning in and up with a brief, soft, careful kiss. His eyes closed at her touch and stayed closed even when she drew back, opening back up after a couple beats to look at her in a way that seemed pleading. He was doubting, she realized. That he had what it took to win the war, that he would make her happy, maybe even if she would still love him after everything. Maybe he was dreading Raphael finding a vessel and separating them all over again. But that moment wasn't now.

"We're together right now," she said softly, needing him. Their faces were close and the dimness of the attic made for a feeling of intimacy. "And we always will be, even when we're apart." She touched his face again, letting her fingers speak wordless affection to him. He leaned into her touch, seeming thirsty for it. "Just stay with me tonight?" She asked, a faint whisper. "As long as you can?" His eyes raised to hers and she kissed him again—a questioning kiss that asked if he would be with her. He answered falteringly, carefully, and Alex asked again by giving another lingering kiss, then another and another. At first, he was tentative, returning her kisses with hesitance and uncertainty, tortured indecisiveness. For a moment, Alex wondered if he would pull away and say he had to leave or that he couldn't do the thing that had damned her soul again. But then it was like a dam burst. He took hold of her with strong arms and hands then began to kiss her with great pent-up passion and frustration.

They fell to each other all over again in that attic bed, committing the sweetest sacrilege in each other's arms. He made love to her like he would never see her again, like it was the last time, like she was his addiction and religion, his everything. And when the moment of ultimate ecstasy crashed over them, Cas dug his fingers into her back and hair so hard that it truly did hurt to the point of bruising and hair-pulling, but she said nothing about it, not wanting to upset him further. But to her, the way he lost slight control over himself enough to grab her that hard was testament to how truly distracted and emotionally compromised he was, how weighty of an impact the war in Heaven had on his tender conscience.

When it was over, they laid together and he held her close. Whispers drifted between them like ships in the night and the doubts the cupid had spoken of were nonexistent for Alex and Cas both. Certainty anchored them together again. Alex drifted off to sleep in the safety of his arms, feeling that they'd finally and truly made amends.

She woke in the morning alone, finding a note beside the bed. He'd left a single purple flower with it which made her smile. She recognized the flower—they grew wild at the end of Bobby's road. Castiel's handwriting was beautiful and strong, reminding her of the spidery and elegant handwriting she'd seen in civil war letters on a TV special one time.

Alex —
I'm being summoned away and simply cannot bear to wake you from your sleep. I'll return to your side when I can.

Following those words was what looked like a sentence of Enochian. Alex studied the unfamiliar characters for a moment curiously, a warm feeling rising up in her—Cas had left her a secret message, a riddle to solve in his absence. He always surprised her with his romantic tendencies and these glimpses of his tender, sweet side. She folded his note up and kept it in her wallet, beginning to work on deciphering it in her spare time.

Thus began what Alex would recall as 'the attic months' in her mind at a later time. The months that were staggeringly perfect in comparison to the darkness that came after.

---

Author's Notes: What'd you think of the all-original hunt?! I had fun brainstorming this one. The rogue cupid, Timmy, was played (in my mind) by Chris Pratt (Andy Dwyer off of Parks and Rec!).