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.

65. Calling All Angels

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 65 / Calling All Angels

"I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me."
- Train

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Bobby Singer reclined in the study with a book as the hour approached seven in the evening. He glanced up skeptically as Alex banged around in the kitchen for what was the third or fourth hour now. Lord don't let her burn the place down. It smelled suspiciously good in the house (only the faintest smell of burnt things was present which was a new one)… but Bobby was hesitant to believe it actually was good after a couple months of trying the barely-edible things Alex had cobbled together. The girl was a pretty hopeless cook, but Bobby had just sucked it up and tried everything she made, supporting her strange and sudden interest in cooking. He even gave her one of Karen's pretty old gingham aprons when he realized she was serious. She was wearing the apron right now over her usual jeans and flannel and Bobby smiled, bittersweet. He sure did love that girl.

Yesterday she'd run into the house and looked like a kid on Christmas morning as she announced that her brothers were coming back and she needed to make things and go to the store to get stuff they liked—she'd been practically giddy and Bobby was pretty sure she hadn't slept at all last night. He didn't know she ever got that excited and it was sorta odd, to be honest. She was usually one to project an inscrutable exterior, she was usually cautious to trust or be enthusiastic about anything. Bobby understood that. He was cut from the same cloth after all… coming from a life of disappointments and pains just did that to a person, making them inclined to take everything with a pound of salt. Well. This was a whole new ball of yarn, Alex bustling around the house like a mother hen in preparation for her brothers' homecoming. There was an uncharacteristic spring in her step and a palatable anticipation as she constantly glanced at the clock and chewed her lip in between her other moments of all-out destroying the kitchen.

The place was a mess—pots and pans and mixing bowls everywhere, flour exploded onto the counter and down the side of a cabinet, apple peelings in a pile, used measuring cups and spoons haphazardly scattered on every available surface. An empty box of chopped frozen spinach was next to a container of sour cream with a spoon in it, mayonnaise was knocked onto its side and oozing out beside the stove, a jar that used to have artichoke hearts in it was now the soaking spot for used spatulas and spoons. For the past few hours Alex had been stressing herself out over making her brothers' favorite treats—apple pie (Dean) and spinach artichoke dip with some sorta froofy pita bread things (Sam). There were a lot of frustrated sounds and muttered swear words as Alex kept having to look up the terms in the cookbook she was using and get detailed instructions about what certain terms meant. It looked like she was finally reaching a stopping point though after her hours of labor. The pie was on top of the stove and cooling (it was lopsided and half the crust was burned on one side) and she bent to pull the dip out of the oven then muttered something cranky at it that ended in "you son of a bitch," before she set it down loudly next to the pie and turned the oven off. She stood back, dusted off her hands, and observed the mess she'd made. She made a tired, deflated sound like whew.

Red-faced, she turned around to look at Bobby. Her hair was in a thoughtless ponytail and frazzled wisps stuck out all around her hairline, flour and pieces of all kinds of food splattered her apron. "Holy shit cooking is hard," she said, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand. "How do people do this every single day? I'm exhausted." Just after she said that, like a squirrel, she suddenly went prone and tall as if she heard something—a smile suddenly popped onto her face and made her look young and childlike—and she tore out of the house without further ado. What, were the boys here or something?

Bobby looked out the window to see what she'd heard with those spry young ears of hers—sure enough, there was the Impala rolling to a stop and two familiar boys within. Dean was already getting out of the car and his face cracked a huge grin at the sight of his sister and it was the kind of smile that was Bobby hadn't seen on that face in a long, long time. Alex ran to her oldest brother and jumped on him, knocking him back a little as she locked arms around his neck. He lifted her off the ground into a tight bear hug and spin them around once, laughing. Bobby smiled to himself. It did him good to see them like that. The second the siblings drew apart, Alex punched her brother in the shoulder jokingly then ducked his attempt to ruffle her hair. She appeared to chide him playfully with a wagging finger and he made an innocent face, holding his hands up as if he were telling her something wasn't his fault. He indicated her apron with a mystified, amused expression then asked her something. She smacked him in the chest, scolding him through a grin and he smiled bigger. She hugged him again, this time with her arms around his middle, head tucked under his chin. He kissed the top of her head, patting her back and ruffling her hair for real that time when they pulled apart, messing it up good on top and then obviously enjoyed the way she batted him away.

Sam got out of the car leisurely and glanced their way without any flicker of interest or emotion—then said something short before heading into the house.

Dean and Alex both sobered and stood side by side, exchanging a tense glance. Bobby felt bad for them automatically. The previous happiness was gone from their faces. It was a damn shame what had happened to the middle Winchester. It was like Sam didn't even really exist anymore. Alex and Dean began talking intently, it looked like she was questioning him in concern and Dean was shaking his head, shrugging with a pensive look on his face, glancing at Sam's retreating form. Alex nodded with an anxious expression and grasped his shoulder as if to reassure him. Dean apparently changed the subject or told her to forget it and smiled through his pain, gesturing toward the back of the car, probably wanting to bring some things in.

The door opened to the house then slammed shut. "Hey Bobby," Sam greeted automatically in passing and walked straight through the house, probably heading for the bathroom. Point proven. That wasn't the Sam that Bobby knew and loved. There was a moment of silence and Bobby listened to Sam's heavy footsteps fading then the sound of the bathroom door opening. Honestly, this version of Sam made him sad as hell while giving him the creeps. There was just something wrong about him. Not sinister, but not quite safe either.

The door opened again, slamming and alerting Bobby to the fact that the other two Winchesters were inside now. "What's that smell?" Dean's deep voice asked from somewhere that Bobby couldn't see. "You burning a candle?"

"I made pie!" Alex said, sounding very pleased at her announcement.

They came into view, Dean's arm slung across Alex's shoulders as he stopped them between the study and the kitchen and looked at her in playful disbelief. "You made pie."

"Yes…" she said emphatically, ducking out of his embrace and darting across the kitchen. She picked up the pie and showed it off with a proud expression, her grin big enough to split her face. "Even the crust!"

Dean chuckled, sounded both impressed and puckish. "I can see that!" he teased, because the pie was very messily put together, the crust wasn't evenly distributed in the pan, half of it was overly browned. It was easy to tell how the apple pieces she'd cut up were all kinds of different mismatched sizes underneath unevenly-spaced and crooked lattice.

Alex gave her brother a halfway serious challenging look at his teasing. "Don't sass me. I'll cut you." She put the pie down onto the kitchen table with a pleased grin.

"It's great, Al," Dean said, speaking genuinely now, setting down the grocery bag he'd been carrying. He clapped her on the shoulder and she seemed thrilled with the praise. "Didn't know you had it in you." He turned and looked over and saw Bobby and grinned, heading his way. Bobby stood up, a fond smile spreading across his face as he met the man he viewed as a son halfway. The two men embraced briefly in the study and then clapped each other on the shoulder. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Bobby," Dean said when they pulled back, and Bobby saw a certain level of relief there in the kid's bright green eyes.

"How you holdin' up?" he asked, scrutinizing the younger man's face for signs of well-being. Couldn't be easy living with soulless Sam.

Dean's expression hid more somber things and he shook his head slightly, ducking the question more or less. "More on that later," he said in a tone that suggested he wasn't doing so good. He shrugged his jacket off, clearly trying to do something to dodge Bobby's inquiring gaze.

"What are these for?" Alex asked from the kitchen, giving a distraction that Dean jumped on. She was poking through the bag her brother had brought in. She pulled out a clear plastic container of grocery-store cupcakes with white icing and confetti sprinkles plus a package of little cake candles.

"Late birthday thing," Dean said, sounding mildly sheepish. "Super late birthday thing." He held his hands out plaintively. "I never stopped feeling bad about it, so…"

Alex was touched, like she was thinking aww and you shouldn't have at the same time.

Sam reappeared sans-jacket in a v-neck shirt. He saw the cupcakes. "Hey," he said, seemingly both to Alex and Bobby before he looked at Dean. "So, what, you wanna do the candle thing now or what?" He seemed both disinterested and assertive, an odd combination.

"Uh, sure," Dean said, clearly trying to stay outwardly positive and act like there was no problem despite his clear inward defeat at Sam's cold demeanor.

Sam glanced over at the stove where the pie was and walked that way to look it over. "Made Dean's favorite, huh? Looks burnt."

Alex ignored the blunt, useless comment and soldiered forward, trying to sound positive. "I made you your favorite thing too, Sam." She showed him the pan of green and cream colored swirly stuff. "Spinach artichoke dip…?" She looked hopeful but was obviously trying not to look that way.

Sam barely glanced at it. "I don't really eat that anymore," he said, and losing interest he went and sat at the kitchen table.

Alex's face flickered and her jaw tightened just slightly. "Oh." A single word that carried vast and heavy disappointment.

Dean, ever watchful, didn't seem to like that. "I do!" He said and grabbed a very unevenly cut, overly-toasted pita bread wedge that Alex had made. He scooped it into the dip, acting extremely excited about it. "I eat it. Love this stuff." The pita crunched loudly (too loudly, must have been burned to a crisp).

Alex was making a bit of a suspicious face at her brother. "…Since when?"

"Mmm," Dean said, but his nostrils were flared and he was clearly struggling with the taste. "So much spinach," he commented through a mouthful, grimacing. He redoubled his efforts to look like he was enjoying it, but it was painful to watch. Still, he complimented the food he obviously had no taste for. "This is the best ever."

"Stop," Alex said affectionately and took the rest of the pita out of his hand, tossing it toward the trash can. "You hate this stuff and you always have." But she was clearly cheered up by his attempt to make it better.

Bobby, trying not to impose much, grabbed a few brews from the fridge and passed them out—one for Dean, one for Sam, one for Alex, one for him. He leaned back against the counter and watched as Dean took two cupcakes out of the plastic clamshell container then plunked a candle into each confection with great focus. "One for the gigantic one," he muttered, pushing one over to where Sam sat. Alex was sitting down across from Sam and Dean pushed the other cupcake her way. "And one for the cute one."

Pleased and embarrassed at the same time Alex crossed her arms and looked up at Dean as a smile played awkwardly at the corners of her mouth. "If you sing to us, I swear to god…" she warned. However it didn't sound like she'd hate it that much.

Dean chuckled. "Don't worry, don't worry," he said, then held out a finger, silently saying wait a minute. "But I do have a little something for you." He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a sleek red and silver object and held it out to her with an almost lecturing expression. "New Swiss army knife since you're always losing 'em."

Alex accepted the knife, shaking her head ruefully through a smile she pressed away. It was both a gift and a brotherly reminder to stop losing the knives. "Thanks Dina," she said, then looked at her twin hesitantly, thinking of something and sobering because of it. "I, uh, didn't get you anything Sam, sorry."

Sam shook his head, barely invested at all—in fact he had been looking off out the window, not paying attention. "No skin off my back."

His demeanor made the mood increasingly heavy but Dean ignored it forcibly, pulling out his lighter and lighting the candles. He pointed at his brother and sister at the same time, businesslike. "All right, twins, make wishes."

Sam stifled an eye-roll and put his candle out between two fingers and sat back in his chair, folding his arms as Alex looked at Dean like she was wondering if he really wanted her to make a wish. His expectant look and go on now gesture of the hand made her give up. She squeezed her eyes shut very tightly then blew her candle out and pulled it up out of the cupcake. She sucked the icing off the end of the candle before throwing it into the trash can from across the room. "What'd you do for your birthday this year, Dean?" she asked as he finally took a seat at the head of the smallish table. She picked her cupcake up and started peeling off the wrapper.

Dean glanced up in surprise then shrugged it off, scratching the back of his head as he pulled the pie she'd made closer for inspection. He didn't really want to think about that, because it reminded him of what he'd lost—Lisa and Ben. It still hurt, two months later, to be rejected like that. "Ah, had a few friends over at Lisa's, some dinner and games. Nothing too crazy." He paused, recalling. "Lisa bought me this weirdo thing called tears of mizu or something."

Sam smirked, eyes glinting. "Tiramisu, Dean?"

Dean glanced over at his brother—everything Sam said and did these days irked his every last damn nerve. "Yeah, that." He crossed his arms, turning his attention back to his sister. "Didn't like it that much." It had been too fancy-schmancy and not sweet enough, too much weird cream custard stuff. What Dean liked best were sugary gobs of gooey fruit encased by buttery, fluffy pastry. Pie.

"Hm," Alex said, then plucked the candle out of Sam's cupcake and stuck it down into the middle of the apple pie then lit the candle with her lighter and spread her hands, surprising Dean. "Happy even more belated birthday to you, biggest brother," she said impishly, knowing that he always requested birthday pie in the past. "Your turn. Make a wish."

Dean looked at the pie, thinking back to Lisa's picture-perfect tiramisu thing that he hadn't liked. This ugly-ass pie that his sister had made just for him was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen and it made him emotional all of the sudden and he cleared his throat, covered his emotions, then blew the candle out in a single short puff. "I wish…" he said with great airs and a gruff voice, "that you wouldn't stick candles in this beautiful pie."

Alex wrinkled her nose at him, seeming to question his sanity. "You need glasses if you think that thing is beautiful," she said and passed the pie server his way. "Tell me how it is. Never made one before, so, uh…" She smiled nervously.

Three slices were made—one for Bobby, Dean, and Sam. Bobby poked at his suspiciously where he leaned against the counter. Sam and Dean both took bites at the same time as Alex nibbled at her cupcake and watched the boys with hidden anxiety—she clearly wanted them to like what she'd made.

Sam's face pinched in distaste. "This is—" he started.

"So good," Dean cut in loudly, sending a quick glare his brother's way before plastering a smile across his face in his sister's direction. "Fantastic. Mmmm."

Sam's expression seemed to question if Dean had lost his mind. The washing machine buzzer sounded over a couple rooms over and Alex responded sort of like a hound who'd just heard a fox—she sat up straight, abandoning her half-eaten cupcake and sticking an icing covered finger into her mouth. She threw a "be right back" over her shoulder as she hurried to answer the call of laundry.

The second she was out of earshot, Dean spit out his bite of pie with a sound like puh. "Holy shit, what'd she put in there?" he asked in an almost whisper, dumbfounded because the pie looked like pie, but it tasted bitter—not unbearably bad, but the crust was grainy and the filling part was sort of sour-ish.

"How about what she didn't put in?" Sam asked, amused now, seeming to feel superior. "Sugar, I think."

"Hey, this is a lot better than the other stuff she's been making," Bobby said, sampling a forkful and seeming to find it surprisingly good.

Dean looked at Bobby with raised eyebrows. "Other stuff?" He asked, cluing in to what Bobby was saying. "You mean she's been cooking food for you regular or something?"

"Food's... one word for it," Bobby said, a smile playing underneath his whiskers. "I'm tellin' you boys, it's freaky. Cooking, baking, cleaning… even folds her laundry."

Dean's eyebrows crawled further up his forehead. "Folds laundry?" he asked, then he cracked a grin because that was weird. "We sure that's Alex? You tested her?" He joked—Alex must be way more bored than she was letting on to resort to trying to cook and bake and fold laundry. "Invasion of the body snatchers, huh?"

"You boys are in for some interesting meals, that's for sure," Bobby said, then set his pie down. "How long you two figure on staying, anyway?"

The wrinkles around Dean's eyes softened as his smile fell. He didn't want to think about that, but he guessed he had to, huh? "A day or two. Not much longer. Gotta get back to work. Sooner we're done the better." Waking up every day and knowing he was working for the King of Hell was killing Dean Winchester. Killing him. The current life he was living was basically Hell all over again: being with Sam who never slept, who had no empathy or love left in him. Sam who only had the drive to work and get jobs done. It was lonely and strange living with the brother he loved more than anything… because when he looked at Sam, Dean saw nothing left that made Sam Sam. It was hard not to get discouraged and feel like Sam was gone for good. It hurt, a constant dull ache that drove Dean to drink and wallow and feel the panic of helplessness. The only consolation was that Alex was safe and sound with Bobby. Dean was able to keep going and trying and fighting to get Sam back when he thought about her. He had to put the family back together. Had to.

Bobby looked up at the place behind Dean, a slightly startled look on his face. Dean noticed and turned, followed his gaze. Standing there with a stern look on his face was Cas. "Hello Dean, Sam, Bobby," the angel greeted, seeming to find their presence as surprising as they found his.

"What, you just pop in whenever you feel like it?" Dean asked, immediately a little cranky at Trench Coat's appearance. He hadn't laid eyes on Cas in a couple months but seeing him again his first thought was this: oh look, it's the dude who's screwing my sister. Ugh. He should have known Captain Weirdo would show up. Dean wondered in suspicion how often he visited. It sounded like not a whole lot from the phone conversations he'd had with his sister but maybe she was hiding the facts from him. She always avoided the subject of Cas, like she was embarrassed by it. She definitely didn't like talking to Dean about the angel. He still didn't quite get it: What did Alex see in this guy?

Cas's mildly concerned gaze was sweeping the kitchen and not finding what he was looking for. "Where is Alex?" he asked predictably, even as she suddenly rounded the corner with a laundry basket in her hands and came to a startled stop at the sight of his back.

"Behind you," Sam supplied blandly.

To Dean's surprise, when Cas turned around Alex dropped the laundry basket as a huge grin made her entire face smile—she threw her arms around him, hugging him with closed eyes and no hesitation, no care for who was watching. Dean felt even crankier. She looked just as happy to see feather-brain as she had been to see him. Dean inwardly critiqued Cas's awkward return hug as he sat back in his seat petulantly, watching them with a sullen stare. He'd made up his mind to be okay with them, but honestly, he still wasn't. His sister deserved the best and Cas was an oddity, a gamble, a risk.

"What're you doing here?" Alex asked Cas when she pulled away, slight concern tightening her features. Her hands remained on him, and his on her.

"I had some time and thought I'd visit," he told her. Dean noticed how his voice was much softer and relatable when he spoke to her. She smiled, seeming to find his visit extremely pleasing and for a second, they were off in la-la goo-goo land, staring at each other so sappily that Dean rolled his eyes and looked away. Cas looked back toward the kitchen, mild curiosity on his face as he took in the disaster area. "What happened to this kitchen?"

"She did," Dean answered testily, shooting a side-eye at the angel and getting a please, Dean, don't look from his sister.

"Have some pie, Cas," Sam said, getting a forkful out and extending the fork to Cas. "Alex made it."

Dean shot his brother a dark look. This version of Sam had a sort of cruel streak of humor. Cas accepted the fork unawares and took the bite of bitter pie. It was strange to see him eat—he did it so properly and hesitantly, his brow wrinkling in thought and perhaps distaste as he chewed with a furrowed brow. It was hard to tell what he thought of the food. Sam was watching closely, his eyes glittering as a little smirk curled his lips upward. "So what do you think?" he asked. Alex looked pretty interested in the answer, too.

Cas hesitated, uncertain. "Is this supposed to taste so—"

"Delicious?" Dean asked loudly, giving Cas a go with me on this one look. He prompted him again: "Awesome?" He got that Al had spent a long time making this and working on it and didn't want her to be crestfallen or disappointed.

Cas hesitated again, looking at Dean with eyes narrowed into questioning slits. Dean's look intensified—compliment the damn pie, Cas—and Cas's squint deepened as he tried to understand what Dean was trying to tell him non-verbally. Alex, cluing in to something being weird, was also starting to squint, and looked at Cas questioningly. "As Dean says," Cas said very uncertainly, looking at her with a peculiar expression. "The pie tastes very 'delicious' and 'awesome.'"

Dean nodded in agreement, a huge thin smile pasted onto his face. Cas, uncomfortable and looking very clueless, just stood there as Alex made a face, seeming to wonder what the hell was going on. "They're lying to you," Sam announced, his smirk becoming a rakish grin. Clearly, he was enjoying the scene unfolding before him and felt like he was above it. "It's horrible. They hate it."

"Hate's a strong word," Dean defended even as Alex grabbed the fork from Cas and took a bite of Sam's pie then immediately made a face and spit it back out.

"…Guys!" she admonished, her face twisted. "This is the grossest thing I have ever eaten!" She smacked Dean in the back of the head.

"Ow!" He complained indignantly, flinching way after the fact. "What was that for?!"

She didn't answer. She was staring off into blank space with a funny expression on her face. "Sugar. I forgot the freaking sugar, dammit." She threw the fork at the table and grabbed a sack of sugar from the disastrous, war-torn kitchen counter. She carried it over even as she dug her hand in. "Here." She grabbed a handful of the granular substance and plopped a huge amount on top of Dean's slice, then more on top of Sam's slice and more on Bobby's slice too. Mountains of white now sat on top of the slices of pie.

"…Well that's one way to do it," Bobby commented mildly, looking at the little sugar hill on his piece of pie.

Dean patted the sugar down with his fork and swirled the pie around in the sugar that fell off, took a bite of sugared pie and shrugged, seeming mildly impressed. "Hm. Not bad," he said. "It's unique, I'll give you that." He smiled up at Alex from where he sat. "And hey, if nothing else, this is the first time anyone's ever made a pie just for me. Can't complain about that." He began to work on polishing it off. Sam didn't touch his. Instead he sat there looking vaguely impatient, like he had somewhere to be.

Cas, who'd been watching curiously, saw the candles and the cupcakes on the table and seemed to put two and two together. "What are you celebrating?" He was curious in that stern way he had.

"The twins' belated birthday by like two months," Dean replied through a huge, rude mouthful of pie. At the look of slight uh oh, oops on the angel's face, Dean took the opportunity to one-up Cas. "What, didn't you get her anything?" he asked smugly. "Not even flowers or a card?"

Cas's eyes squinted. "A… card?" It sounded like he'd never heard of such a thing.

Dean scoffed. He shoveled in another mouthful of pie. It wasn't that bad with sugar all over it. "Yeah. It's what you do for birthdays." He glanced at Alex, who was off a few steps and against the kitchen counter, reluctantly contemplating the mess she'd made. She was clearly distracted by the thought of cleaning up. "Real Romeo you got over here," Dean said to her as he crammed another huge mouthful in. He'd demolished the slice in just a few bites.

In response to his passive-aggressiveness, she looked up and smiled Cas's way, unfazed by the would-be insult. "I know."

Dean didn't like the way Cas was smiling back at Alex or how they seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. They were like lovesick puppies. "Ugh… couple of saps," he grumbled in complaint, then stood up with his empty plate in hand and pointed at Cas roughly. "You—kitchen duty with me."

The smile on his face was replaced with confusion again as he looked at Dean with puzzlement. "Pardon?"

Dean gestured at the messy kitchen with gusto. "This place ain't gonna clean itself."

Alex protested and tried to help, but Dean wouldn't let her—he insisted she "take it easy" while he and Cas took "care of business." Bobby and Sam retired to the study where Sam was content to look through gathered news clippings for potential jobs as Bobby switched the TV on. Alex sat at the kitchen table, took off her apron, and finished her cupcake as Dean gruffly taught Cas how to do dishes. Cas complained about the slipperiness of soap and dropped and broke a couple of plates before Dean got exasperated and made him dry dishes instead of wash them.

After a few minutes, Dean hollered for Sam to "get your ass in here and make yourself useful." Sam was put to work cleaning the stovetop and then sweeping—he did it with precision and calculation, keeping his head down and saying nothing. Alex tried to help again and Dean again told her to let them do it. So she sat there and watched her family cleaning the kitchen together and for a minute she imagined that Sam was himself, that Dean wasn't working for Crowley, that Cas wasn't tied down to a war in Heaven. She imagined that this was a regular occasion, them getting together and eating and Dean and Cas arguing in mostly good nature about dish drying techniques. Cas kept doing it angel-style (magically) and Dean kept insisting that it was cheating. "Use the damn rag!" Really, he was just jealous Alex thought, jealous that he didn't have superpowers. Either way… this was her favorite day in a long time. It felt so good to have all the ones she loved nearby.

Cas kept glancing back at her over his shoulder as he helped Dean, his eyes telling her that he was happy to see her but that he was also yearning for time with just her... but she kinda got the feeling that alone time wasn't in the cards for them today. Not with Dean and Sam here and wanting to visit. Well, Dean anyway. Sam couldn't have cared less and it was obvious. She gave a charged sigh and took a pull of beer, meeting another one of Cas's indescribable glances. Dean was currently rambling, telling them about the past two months. He'd been doing so on and off for about fifteen minutes as they cleaned the kitchen.

He suddenly paused his monologue. "Cas, quit screwin' around, wipe that side down," he instructed, apparently getting tired of the constant lulls in accomplishment Cas kept having. Dean even shot Alex a look that seemed to say quit distracting him, will you? Dean returned to telling them about the past couple months. "Anyway, and then we caught this Lamia Alpha, that was freakin' nuts, lemme tell ya… slippery bastard, almost didn't trap him at all." Dean crouched and wiped down the cabinet covered in flour as he looked up at Castiel. "What about you, Cas? How's the attic situation going?" Cas faltered and Alex felt like oh no, he thinks Dean means our attic—but when the confusion was apparent, Dean clarified. "The war upstairs."

Cas's gaze flickered to Alex for a brief second. "Oh. Of course. That attic." He regrouped. "It is very trying. Mentally and otherwise. Thank you for your concern, Dean. I appreciate it."

"Hey, what're friends for?" Dean replied somewhat automatically, tossing his dishrag into the sink. He missed the touched look on Cas's face at the word 'friends'. "Hey Al, wanna play chess?" Dean asked out of the blue, dusting off his hands. Alex looked at her brother uncertainly—chess? He grinned at her, adopting that devil-may-care attitude he hadn't really possessed in years.

"What, you feel like losing at something tonight?" she joked.

He grinned even bigger. "You're getting it backwards… I'm the chess champ around these parts."

"Sure you are," she retorted and pushed back in her chair to stand up. "I'll go find the set." Bobby had one in a closet somewhere. She headed down the hallway then heard Dean pull Cas aside.

"Got my eye on you, buddy," he said in a low, friendly-but-warning voice she wasn't supposed to have heard. Alex paused and shook her head, rueful. Oh Dean, you never change, do you? She was poised to turn around and go back in there and tell Dean to back off. But she waited a second to see what Cas's reaction was.

Cas sounded unsure about what 'got my eye on you' even meant but replied in that endearing way he had: with gravelly uncertainty and stoic tones. "Uh… all right. 'Buddy.'"

Dean could be heard giving a heavy huff of air in response. Alex could visualize him pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Smiling a little to herself, Alex carried on further down the hallway in search of the old chess set.

The next hour plus was spent playing chess in the study. Sam didn't participate, he just vegged out on his laptop and ignored everyone. Bobby did join in, playing a couple rounds of chess and putting his two cents into the conversation here and there as he studied another volume afterward. Whiskey and beer were consumed in copious quantities (mostly by Dean) and Alex taught Cas the rules of chess. He took to it immediately, understanding the logic of it better than them and once he grasped the rules he became an instant champion—his penchant for being able to apparently calculate every possible outcome made him unbeatable. First he beat Alex, then he beat Bobby, then he beat Dean. He seemed pleased with himself and the constant weight of the war lifted from his shoulders as he very smugly (for Cas) claimed victory over Dean three times over. It was funny… the two of them actually got along when Dean wasn't reminding himself to be unhappy about Cas's interest in Alex.

Alex sat off with a beer in hand, feeling a pleasant buzz and happy feelings as she watched her brother and husband playing chess together. Guilt seeped in briefly as she thought of how Dean and Bobby and Sam didn't know. Cas looked up at that moment after announcing "checkmate, Dean." His eyes were soft on hers and made her abruptly long for privacy and quiet and his limbs tangled with hers. It had been two weeks since she'd seen or heard from him and she missed him in every possible way.

Whatever movie was playing droned on in the background and the woman was asking her lover to "talk dirty to me, baby." Alex blushed a little thanks to the alcohol and the sudden curiosity of what Cas's deep husky voice would sound like saying dirty things in her ear. She'd have to ask him to try that sometime… their eyes were locked currently and her lips lifted just slightly into a secretive smile. Mirroring her, his lips lifted at the corners just faintly and his eyes held a question in them.

Dean had been imposing himself and very immaturely wedging himself between Alex and Cas all night—they hadn't had a single moment alone. Alex wondered if she could get some alone time with Cas right now—the looks he'd been giving her this whole time suggested he was wondering the same thing. Alex glanced at Dean—okay, how to get the alone time with Cas though? Announcing "Cas and I are going to go have some alone time" would inspire her oldest brother to try and sabotage it or act a fool… and Alex would rather keep the peace, not rock the boat. She needed to figure out a discreet way to make this happen.

Dean was currently grumbling about losing to Cas and got up, headed to the kitchen for more whiskey. Realizing this could be their opportunity, Alex quickly picked up a sticky note from the desk she sat beside and scrawled 5 Minutes - Meet Me In The Attic and pulled the note off, palmed it, got up and sat across from Cas. She fiddled with the chess pieces with one hand and passed him the sticky underneath the card table with the other. Sam didn't notice, Bobby wasn't looking, and Dean had his head in the liquor cabinet.

Cas took the note and read it discreetly, looking at her and understood much quicker than she had expected. Even as he closed his fist around the note, he sat straighter and spoke loudly so that everyone would hear him. "I have to leave now," he said, but he looked at Alex as he said it with a gaze that was filled with anticipation. "Thank you for the pleasant evening."

He disappeared before anyone could say anything. "And I was just about to offer him some good stuff," Dean said, sauntering back into the study with more whiskey. Alex noticed the way he walked and realized he was pretty damn tipsy, maybe even more than tipsy. She hid another smile. "All right, rematch?" he asked her, because they'd played earlier and she'd beaten him (just barely though). He sat down where Cas had just been and took a huge pull of whiskey.

Alex felt bad about it but she lied. "I'm super tired, actually," she said, making a weary sound. "Think I'm gonna head up for the night."

"What? Come on, it's too early for that!" he protested, obviously disappointed.

Alex felt guilty, but she'd make it up to him tomorrow and spend time with him all day. Right now, Cas would be waiting on her. "Sorry Dean—we'll hang out all tomorrow, okay?" She got up and ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head before heading out of the study.

"Night Bobby," she said, then glanced at her twin. "Sam."

"Night," Sam said without looking up from his laptop. Alex looked back at Dean semi-guiltily as he gave her a crestfallen little smile.

"Night, Al."

"Night Dean."

She did feel bad about this… Dean had been gone for two months and it was really early in the night... but Cas.

Alex made herself walk slowly to avoid giving away the fact that she was in a hurry to get to the attic. Her heart was beating a little faster and her stomach was fluttering because every step took her closer to him. She went down the hallway, up the main staircase, down the other hallway and toward the attic stairway. She opened the door to the attic stairs and the second she did, the overwhelming scent of flowers hit her nose. What the…? She climbed the stairs slowly out of caution and when she came into the small space of her attic, she stopped, stunned. There were flowers everywhere. The lights weren't on but the rising moon illuminated the room enough that she could see arrangements were set onto every free surface, stacked onto boxes and piled on free spaces on the metal shelves. Even more arrangements crowded the floor. In the dead center of the smallish space, Cas stood with his arms slack at his sides. Alex's hand had been hovering at the light switch but she didn't turn it on when she saw him, because the way moonlight illuminated him was magical.

"Hello," he greeted and held out something small, rectangle, and flat to her as she went to him in a slight stupor. "I got you the card." Huh? Wait. Alex remembered how Dean had goaded him for not getting her a birthday card or flowers. Well, he'd clearly taken the advice to heart… holy shit. How did he do all of this in two minutes flat?!

Alex took the card and angled it toward the window where moonlight streamed in. She could see the card design more clearly: It was a teddy bear holding a balloon. She stifled a sudden laugh. Cas obviously hadn't noticed what the cursive words on the balloon said. Happy Birthday, Son! She could just picture Cas standing in whatever store he'd found this in and grabbing the first one he saw, not even knowing how many different kinds of cards there were. He hadn't written anything inside of it either. "I love it," Alex said honestly, grinning at his mistake and the thought behind the gesture. She looked around the room again. There were flowers wherever she turned. "Did you bring me enough flowers?" she teased. There must have been a hundred arrangements littering the attic at least.

"I don't know," he said, suddenly skeptical of himself and looking around in slight worry. "Did I?"

A soft, impish smile played on her face when she looked back at him. "I think so." She drifted over to an arrangement of some kind of huge rose-like flowers and sniffed. They smelled amazing.

Cas watched her and she could hear the affection in his thick voice. "I couldn't choose. They were all so beautiful and pleasing and I wanted you to have them all." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm sorry it's belated," he said regretfully. "Next year we will celebrate properly." Alex looked from the flowers to him.

"This is proper enough," she replied, voice softening to match his and she forgot her interest in the flowers, going to him like a magnet to a magnet, putting her arms under his to loosely circle him. She looked up at him, wondering if the buzz she felt was from the beers or from the happiness of being close to him again. "Just being with the people I love's enough for me."

His eyes were full of his heart. "I do love you," he said quietly. He reached for her and touched the side of her face with whispering fingertips as his gaze searched hers, saw into her, called her to him. In the dim and flower-filled attic as moonlight touched the floor and turned the two of them into silhouettes, Castiel kissed Alex soft and slow, sweet and warm, arms circling her and drawing her more closely to his solid form. Her arms snaked upwards, fingers going to twist into his thick hair, pulling him deeper into her kiss. He made her tipsy and drunk all at once, turned her into soft putty, set her on fire, made her feel hot and bothered and so ready for him in the span of seconds.

She let him turn her and cradle her and lay her down onto the bed and all she could think of and feel were good things as endorphins and pleasure pooled in her stomach and veins. She had one thought in her mind. Finally. They were sideways on the bed—her legs still hung over the edge, feet brushing the floor as he stood between her legs, bent closely over her, his warmth seeping into her. He broke the kiss, cupping the back of her head as his lips found the hinge of her jaw and hollow of her throat. Her head arched back into the bed and her eyes fell closed as her arms wandered around his neck and shoulders. A soft little sound of pleasure escaped her lips as his mouth scorched her skin with electric bliss. "I've missed you—" she breathed as he trailed warm, wet kisses along the side of her neck. She suddenly thought of the dirty talking and with her stomach flip-flopping, she decided to ask. It was dark, she felt safe to chance it and the pleasant buzz she had afforded her courage. She bit her lip. "Tell me what you want to do to me right now, Cas," she requested lowly, and he stopped what he was doing, drawing back to look at her face.

"…What I want to 'do to you'?" he repeated, staunchly confuse. Nevertheless, he answered her. "…I want to have intercourse with you," he said slowly, timidly, with growing uncertainty like he thought he'd done something wrong. "Was… that not clear?"

Biting back a giggle at the way he phrased himself, Alex tried to explain better and trailed a finger down the side of his neck. "No, I know that… tell me the details."

Cas, clearly not getting it at all, took a moment, trying to think of what answer was right. He basically repeated himself, sounding more and more unsure every second. "I want to… have intercourse with you… on this bed." Further confused, he added, "If that's all right."

Again fighting off giggles that escaped out of her nose as little stuttering breaths, she pulled him closer and tried again to prompt it out of him. "How's it going to happen?" she asked, trying to be sexy and get him to play along. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Uh…" He studied her with a confounded, squinted expression. "Alex, are you feeling well? Have you forgotten how copulation works?"

She did giggle then, pulling him close, trying to show him. She spoke right into his ear. "No… I want you to um… tell me what you want to do to me in detail." She pressed a whisper soft kiss just below his ear. "It's hot," she said shyly. "Try it? For me… please?"

Obviously both perplexed and aroused, Cas consented uncertainly. "All right," he said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "If you really want me to." He paused, and he sounded stilted, unnatural. "I want… to kiss you," he said flatly, as if he were thinking things through in his mind scientifically and trying to remember a specific order of events. "I want to touch you." He quickly added, "With my hands." He sounded flustered and increasingly lacking in confidence, almost embarrassed by the things he was saying. "Then I'll, uh, I'll… penetrate… uh…" he stopped, because she was shaking with smothered laughter. "…Alex, I really don't comprehend the significance of this exercise," he said, sounding faintly worried.

Deciding to lead by example, she kissed his neck languidly, letting lips, tongue, mouth, and teeth drag against his skin then suck inward—she nipped his earlobe and let her tongue sneak out to tease the skin there. "Do you like when I kiss you here?" she asked in a voice that was more soft and sensual than she knew it could be.

His breathing had shortened and his voice tightened. The discomfort fell away, his body wasn't stiff against hers, he felt more pliable. "Y… es…" he answered, strained, focused.

Enjoying the effect she had on him in the most salacious of ways, she let her lips go lower and she pulled at his collar to expose more skin so that her kisses trailed to his lower neck then his collar bone. "What about here?" she asked, other hand raking through his hair and pulling him closer. He replied in a failing voice with another yes. She sucked at the curve where his neck and shoulder met and he made a sound of surprise, breathing out softly, holding onto her tightly with one hand. Alex grabbed and moved his other hand from beside her on the bed to the curve of her bosom. His breathing hitched, her breathing hitched. "I want you so damn bad," she confessed in a tight, urgent voice as she pressed his hand to her chest harder, insisting that he grab her there. He groaned into the side of her neck and a hot breath hit the sensitive skin there—he tightened his hand on her breast and pulled back, looking down at her. His dark eyes caught moonlight reflecting off the floor.

"Allow me to show you what I wish to do to you instead of speaking about it," he whispered in a husky voice that sent electric shivers of anticipation through her entire body. Yes please.

Flushed over and suddenly feeling less dominant, especially when he rubbed a thumb across her nipple through her shirt and bra, her mouth fell open into a gasp that he silenced with an open-mouthed kiss. His timidness was gone and replaced by some feral and certain desire: He let his hands hook into the waistband of her jeans decisively and he basically yanked her down the bed toward him, putting her underneath him more fully as he pushed her shirt up to the top of her ribcage, exposing her torso. He grasped her by either side of the waist and held her, began to press kisses to her bare skin there, trailing his lips downward as his hands moved to roughly unbutton and unzip her jeans. His lips were trailing lower and lower, his hands were poising to pull her jeans down, he was beginning to move into a crouch and was pulling her even further down to him so that her legs were shifting open wider, his face was descending toward the juncture of her thighs, her nerve endings were screaming in delicious anticipation of what he was going to do. Her fingers tightened a little onto the back of his head as he drifted maddeningly lower. Alex was breathless with anticipation, her entire body straining for him—she was reduced to nothing but a raging inferno of impossible desire that needed quenching.

And then heavy footsteps coming up the stairs cut the encounter short. They froze, realizing they were about to have company. "Al! Alex! Al—lex," Dean's voice called lazily, his slow footsteps plodding up the steps even as Castiel and Alex looked at each other, frozen for the slightest instant. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing: oh shit. Alex yanked her shirt back down and Cas fumblingly re-zipped and buttoned her jeans at the same time as they stumbled up and away from the bed and into a less compromising position.

"Come on, little sister, it's too early for bed—I can understand not wanting to hang out with soulless dude," Dean said and flipped on the lights as he got to the top of the stairs, "but I mean your big broth—oh." He stopped, darkening when he saw Cas. "You're here." He noticed the flowers and did a double take. "And so's the whole damn flower shop." He squinted Cas's way suspiciously, then looked at Alex carefully, seeing her disheveled clothes. "Uh huh," he commented wryly, then seemed to get a headache and temporarily forgot about everything else. He put a hand on his head. "Whew I'm drunker than I thought."

Alex looked at him nervously, embarrassed because of how just a few seconds ago she'd been underneath Cas. "I didn't know that even happened anymore," she muttered, self-consciously smoothing her hair. It was probably stupid to try and disguise evidence of the frisky nature of what she and Cas had just been doing. Dean obviously knew he'd interrupted them.

"Well… it does still happen," he said crankily, pointing at her with his flask with a glare. Some of it sloshed out and Dean looked at Cas, who was contemplating Alex with clear longing, then shifted his gaze to aim at Dean with mild reproving. "What are you lookin' at, Mr. Wonderful?" Dean challenged. "I'm not leaving anytime soon so suck it." He smiled, catty and rude and cool.

Grumpy, Cas exhaled through his nose. "You're very unpleasant when intoxicated. More so than usual."

Dean's expression twisted. "Your face is unpleasant," he retorted stupidly.

"Really good one Dean," Alex muttered.

Dean, who was always pretty unpredictable when hammered, just glanced at her sullenly and mumbled something like "…Stupid… stuff."

As much as she didn't want to send Cas away, Alex felt like Dean must need something and he was going to be petulant until she gave him some one-on-one. Dammit.

"Cas, can you give us a couple minutes?" she asked grudgingly, looking at her angel regretfully.

He nodded, clearly sharing her feelings of reluctance but respecting her request all the same. "Of course." He disappeared.

Dean was mildly appeased when it was just the two of them again. He looked around at the flowers, batting at one. "So you and Cas… still a thing, huh?" He looked at her sidelong with hooded eyes.

"Still a thing," she confirmed. She tested his reaction gingerly with a half-truth. "It's… pretty serious Dean."

In response, he scoffed and kept pacing the edge of the attic while poking around at the various flowers like he was unimpressed. "Yeah, uh huh." He emptied the rest of his flask and hissed as it went down.

Deflating at his negative reaction, Alex didn't bother to hide her sadness. "Why do you have to be like that?" She was hurt that he was obviously not warming up to the idea of her and Cas as much as she wanted. How the hell would he ever deal with the fact that she and Cas were kind of in it together forever…?

Dean waved something invisible away with his hand flippantly. "Ah. Never mind. I've learned my lesson."

"What lesson's that?" She folded her arms.

He made a face. "Don't talk to Alex about Cas, do not pass go, do not collect a hundred dollars." Dean plucked a daisy out of an arrangement and stuck it behind his ear, giving her a deadpan look. "This make me look pretty?"

Shaking her head in chagrin Alex wasn't sure if she should be amused or mad. "Oh my god you're a fuckin' train wreck," she commented helplessly.

"Maybe I am," he replied somewhat seriously, then suddenly put a hand out as if to balance himself. The flower fell out from behind his ear. "This floor's uneven, need to fix it—son of a bitch."

Wow, he hadn't been this trashed in a long time. "It's not uneven," Alex retorted and went over, taking his arm and trying to move him to the bed to sit. Annoyed that he was up here and getting in the way and being a drunken mess, she tugged him toward the bed. "Come here and quit walking around before you fall down."

Not cooperating, he chuckled, seeming to find her actions amusing. "Gimme a hug, shortstack," he replied and promptly clobbered her with an embrace, smashing her face into his chest.

"I'm not short!" she protested into his burly chest, and he sighed, hugging her and swaying forward slightly. Alex made an irritated sound like awwwgh and batted him away, pushing him toward the bed to sit down.

He collapsed down onto his back on the bed, suddenly giggling. "You remember the time when we were real little, we found some weed and tried it out in the salvage yard and Sam got so jacked up that he thought that there were cops hiding in the trees?"

She had forgotten about that, but the second he said it, she remembered. They must have been like thirteen or fourteen at the time, her and Sam. She grinned and forgot her grumpiness as the memories flooded her mind. Alex flopped down beside her brother on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. "Hey, what about me?" She was starting to laugh as she remembered what she'd never been able to tell them outright. "I looked at you two and I was so high that you both had mountains for faces."

Dean basically guffawed. "Mountains for faces," he chortled, probably trying to picture that. "Where do you come up with this stuff." He grinned at the ceiling. "We need to get Cas high," Dean said. "That shit would be hilarious."

Instead of agreeing, Alex suddenly remembered the Castiel in 2014 and sobered. She shivered slightly. They had so narrowly avoided that future. If Cas didn't win the war, if Raphael put the apocalypse back on the road, could that future be the future again? She hadn't even wondered that before now. Her stomach sank slightly and she stared ahead blankly, fretting, remembering the broken man her Castiel had been in that version of the future. Dean was looking at her, taking in her pensive silence. "So I'm guessing no leads on getting Sam's soul back?" he asked after a second, maybe thinking that's what she was reflecting on.

Alex shook her head then studied her short fingernails grimly. "No. Nothing, nowhere. It's getting old." She let out a dissatisfied sigh. "I want back on the road."

Dean shook his head somberly, face gaunt, eyes searching the ceiling tensely. "Trust me, you don't. It fucking blows. Our brother's this cold, unfeeling asshole who never sleeps and doesn't give two craps about anything." Alex studied her brother's profile with growing pain and worry. Dean's jaw worked oddly as he thought. "Seeing him like that's… it's one of the worst things that I've ever seen." He glanced her way briefly, pain filling his eyes and he looked away again, shaking his head and rubbing his hand across his face tiredly. "I just love you guys so fucking much and…" his voice cracked. "It's falling apart." He sat up, abruptly mad at nothing and everything. He got up and walked away, putting his back to her.

He leaned a hand against a bookshelf that was filled with flowers, bent his head and began to confess what he probably wouldn't have if he'd been sober. His voice was shockingly weak and emotional and he was shuddering as he clearly tried not to flat out weep. "This is my whole life—this is all I have and it's going to hell, it hurts so fucking bad," he confessed in a stunning torrent of agony-riddled words that made Alex sit up, staring in worry. "Everyone left, Al—Lisa, Ben, Sam, you—" he gave a soft chuckle like he was laughing at how pathetic he found himself. And as quickly as he'd laughed, he made a soft sound of distress, almost a sob. "It's tearing me apart. I can't do this anymore, I can't. I can't be everywhere and do everything, god—" He had his face bowed down into his hand and Alex saw how his other hand tightened on the shelf until the knuckles were white. "I need him back, Al—I need my brother back, I need something from how things used to be or I won't fucking make it."

Alex was behind him now, having gotten up to go to him. She was touching his shoulder carefully, trying to comfort him but doing so cautiously, because he had a tendency to snap after being emotionally vulnerable. Still, she chanced it. "Hey, hey," she said, refocusing him, not sure how to even speak to the scattered things he was saying. "You're not supposed to carry the whole world, Dean. That's not your job." He wouldn't look at her, just stared straight ahead of himself and struggled to keep his face still. "I want Sam back too, and we're gonna find a way, believe me. We'll find a way. You know I've got your back, right? It's okay." She tried to hug him but he shook his head, held an arm out a little, rejecting her touch. A little deflated, Alex tried again. "Dean, lemme come back in with you guys, I don't care that—"

That got her his gaze finally, and it was wild and angry. He cut her off mid-sentence authoritatively. "No, no. That is not gonna happen."

"But I'm going crazy here and you need help," Alex said, getting a little pissed herself now. He was being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.

"What I need is more fucking booze," he retorted, turning and walking away to the middle of the room, fidgeting by scratching at his neck, rubbing his palm down over his mouth and chin, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He didn't walk evenly and in all honesty he was reminding her of Dad right now, who would get angry and volatile when drunk. It always started with curse-filled verbal rants before it escalated into physical violence.

"You've had enough, D," she said wearily. She might have to call Cas back if Dean got too crazy. She hoped he wouldn't.

As quickly as he'd gotten huffy and riled up, her brother was defeated and depressed again. "I have had enough. It's too much, Al. It's too much. The things I've done and seen, the man I am today, none of it's what I wanted… I don't even know what I wanted, but not this." He looked like he wanted to punch something or throw something. "I'm a failure in every part of my goddamn life."

"Dean—" she started firmly, taking a step toward him.

"No, no!" He said, face twisting into an ugly expression as he shrank back from her and raised his finger again at her. "Don't try and tell me it's okay or it'll all be okay! You crazy?! How the hell will it ever be okay?!" He was throwing his arms out and gesturing with angry gusto and Alex wasn't going for it anymore. "It won't!"

"Dean, Dean!" He needed to stop before he got himself worked up too bad. "You're not a failure—ever—period." He shook his head, contemptuous like he thought he was the worst person alive and her attempts to say otherwise were an insult to him. "You're allowed to make mistakes!" She insisted, wanting to shake him.

"Mistakes?" he repeated, seeming to think that was a mild way of putting it. "All I do is break things," he replied, brushing aside her attempts to get through to him.

That really hurt to hear. And damn, if she didn't feel the same. "You're not the one who got tricked into saying yes to Lucifer," she said without a thought—that was the thing that ate at her day and night and she had to carry that burden without ceasing. "Look what happened to Sam because of that." Her voice broke around Sam's name because she held herself a thousand percent accountable for her twin brother and when she actually let herself think about it, it broke her in two. He had saved her life by taking on Lucifer in her stead and it killed her to think about how that had led to his death and his current condition of soullessness. She felt like she had done that. No one else. She had to force a cynical smile to keep from crying. "So if you wanna talk about people who break things…" She spread her arms out. Her lips thinned into a grimacing expression before she let her hands hit down at her sides with a loud, baleful slap. She'd never really talked about it out loud and it made her feel a hundred times shittier to put it out there, but now Dean knew and probably Cas, too. She had a sneaking suspicion he hadn't actually left but was nearby listening and watching.

Dean stared, surprised at what she'd just said, and then very quickly he got righteously angry. "Whoa—no," he almost growled. "Don't you do that crap."

"What, you're the only one allowed to feel bad about yourself?" Alex challenged, then looked up, huffed, and rolled her eyes, trying to find composure. This was stupid and she was going to lose it if they talked about Sam anymore. She just couldn't right now, so she blinked a few tears back, wet her lips, shrugged and forced herself to be outwardly hard. "Look. We've both done things and failed each other and Sam too. Feeling shitty about it isn't the answer. Making it right is what we need to focus on."

Dean scoffed, self-loathing clear in his expression. "Making it right," he repeated bleakly, once again turning to his inward thoughts. He looked down, shook his head regretfully, misery on his face again. "Man if I could do last year over." He looked at her with suddenly pained eyes. "The stuff that happened to you. The demon blood, the…" he trailed off, a slightly alarmed expression in his eye. He hadn't meant to say that.

At the abrupt mention of the things she wanted to bury and forget forever, Alex stiffened and faltered, wanting to disappear. "I'd rather not think about that stuff anymore," she said tightly, looking away and hoping he'd take the hint.

He sounded just as torn apart as she felt. "Me either, but I still do."

He was worried. Still worried about all that and Alex took a deep breath to be brave enough to meet his harrowed, questioning gaze. "I'm okay." Now don't ask me again.

Dean's eyes studied her as his brow tightened with uncertainty. "You promise?" he asked softly.

Alex gave him a small smile and shallow series of little nods. "Yeah."

He didn't look fully convinced but he let out a heavy breath and gathered her into his arms and hugged her tight, letting their argument roll off his back. He smelled like leather and whiskey and aftershave and his familiarity comforted her immediately. She imagined that if Dad had ever hugged her like a father was supposed to, this is what it'd be like: reassuring and filled with safety and affection that was familial, constant, unconditional. John Winchester had never hugged her, or not that she could remember. He'd put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder a few times. But that was all.

Dean's big arms tightened around her a little. "Love you Al," he said quietly, in a voice that was tight with emotion. "I really do. Wish I'd been there for you this year. I promise when Sam's Sam again, we'll be a family again."

God, she wanted to be able to believe that, but she had so many worries inside preventing her from believing that things would ever fully be okay ever again. And guilt tore her apart inside over how she was keeping such a big thing in her life a secret from him. Tears sprung to her eyes and her stomach felt sick. The longer she put it off, the more scared she was to tell him at all. Alex pulled away, trying to hide her shamefaced feelings. She patted him on the arm and forced a brighter smile. Dean needed hope right now, not more things to stress him out or freak him out. "Sounds good."

Dean burped suddenly and grumbled, hitting himself in the chest with a fist and making a grossed out sound. After that, he looked at her again. "So, look… you and Cas," he said, gesturing around at all the flowers. "Where d'you see that going? Like, big picture."

His sudden question, the exact one she didn't want to answer, made her feel very small and nervous. "I uh… I dunno," she hedged, trying to appear nonchalant even as her heart hammered into her chest. Liar. Liar. Liar. "I could see us together for a long time I guess," she said, because that was true enough.

Dean was trying hard to be reasonable and Alex could tell. "How long, though?" he pressed. "I mean… guy's a frickin' different species, might live forever—last time I checked you were mortal as they come. You really thought this through?"

April 29th, 2010 ran through her mind and then more guilt followed. "Yeah, I have," she answered, avoiding his gaze. He wouldn't stop with the skeptical narrow-eyed stare and Alex got flustered, defensive. "What?"

He put his hands up slightly as if in defensive surrender. "I'm not trying to be an asshole, I'm just trying to look out for you, I promise," he said, and his eyes narrowed again. He frickin' saw straight through her. She couldn't hide the fact that she really, really didn't want him to know something—and Dean's eyes squinted even further in slight worry. "…Something you aren't telling me?"

Panic froze her. And then the sound of angel's wings was heard. Right behind Dean, Cas stood. "Hello Dean," he said, effectively saving Alex from the question Dean had just asked.

Dean whirled, off balance. "Jesus, Cas—where'd you come from?"

A brief, unsure pause. "Well, initially I was created in the inmost parts of Heaven to—"

Dean shut his eyes briefly in a grasp for patience. "Not what I meant, Cas," he said, then looked at Alex. "He kinda grows on you, doesn't he? …Like some kinda weird fungus." Dean chuckled at his own joke then reached out with his pointer finger and tapped Cas on the nose. "Boop."

Cas leaned back, uncertain of what had just happened, then looked at Alex questioningly. She shrugged behind Dean's back—she had no idea how to get rid of her very intoxicated and erratic big brother. Dean chuckled, a heh heh that was almost smug. He saw the frustrated look passing between Alex and Cas. "Nope. I'm gonna stay here all night and make sure there's no funny buses," he said, then caught himself, frowning. "Funny business. Damn."

"You're so drunk," Alex muttered, shaking her head, humiliated and annoyed and a touch amused.

"I'm fine, I got this. I just… the bed," he said and pitched over that way, collapsing onto it in the dead center. He then belched abruptly, louder than before. "Ugh—tastes like regret and stomach acid," he complained and pushed a book off the bed peevishly as he rolled onto his side. "How many fucking books are up here anyway, goddamn…"

Alex looked at Cas sidelong and he seemed bemused at what was happening. Alex decided to kick Dean out point blank and went over to him, pulling on him by the shoulder. "Okay Dean, look—" she stopped, seeing how his eyes were shut and his mouth was gaping open slackly. "Dean." She shook him a little but he was limp, passed out, making a soft little snoring sound. She stood up, looking at him in disbelief. "Wow. Stay classy, Winchester." She shook her head and looked back at Cas with a wan expression. "He's stone cold out."

Cas stood on the other side of the bed and studied Dean. "He seems highly intoxicated."

Tired, Alex sat beside her brother—his head was halfway down the bed, not even close to the pillows or headboard. Alex reclined at the headboard and reached down and touched Dean's head affectionately, feeling a sad for her hurting sibling. "Yeah. He had a little too much."

Cas waited a moment then sat down as well, mimicking Alex's position—back leaned against the headboard, feet on the bed. Dean was a lump in between them and Alex looked over at Cas ruefully. "Not exactly how I pictured our time in bed together," she said softly.

In response, Cas reached out and put his hand over hers. On the pillows, their hands held. "It's not disagreeable to me," he said quietly.

Alex felt herself smiling. "Yeah, it's not all bad." Just being together. Wait. She suddenly looked down at Dean's head beside her leg, suspicious. "Zeppelin sucks," she said loudly. No response from Dean at all. "Turkey burgers," she said. Nothing. Then the best one she could think of. "Cas is touching my boobs." No reaction.

Well, Cas reacted to that, looked at her with vast confusion. "I'm not…" he trailed off, eyes squinting into little slits and he looked at her chest, then his hand in hers.

Alex grinned his way. "I was seeing if he was pretending to be asleep," she explained.

Cas's confusion lessened slightly. "Oh." Dean snored softly.

"I'm glad you're here," Alex said, hunkering down a little, turning and facing him, laying on her side and propping her cheek into her hand, elbow on the pillow. "I've been worried about you."

Mimicking her again, Cas shifted too and laid on his side and used an elbow to support his upper half. He looked sad and made no reply, seeming to feel guilty that she worried about him. Their hands still held and Alex contemplated that sight, tracing random patterns with her fingertips across the backs of his fingers. "Were you here the whole time just now?"

"Yes," was his soft, quiet answer. So, he knew. He'd heard the things she'd said. She could hear the heavy concern in his voice but she just kept looking at their hands, getting more and more upset. She broke things and she'd broken Sam as a result of her stupid actions and it was fucking depressing as fuck. Cas saw her getting distressed and his hand left hers to gently turn her chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "Alex," he consoled quietly, seeking her downcast gaze with a dipped chin. She made herself meet his waiting gaze and his eyes held vast amounts of empathy, sadness, and a certain sort of pleading for her to not blame herself for what happened. "It hurts me to see your pain," he told her softly, moving his hand to the side of her face instead of underneath her chin. Alex settled her cheek down onto the pillow and pulled Cas's hand closer to her face. She accidentally kicked Dean's ear with her knee as she shifted and he snorted before going still again.

The room was silent for a minute. "I miss Sam," she said in a hollow voice. "I miss him." He was downstairs and he wasn't him and she missed him so much that she ached—and it was her fault and no one would ever convince her otherwise.

"I'm so sorry," Cas said heavily, as if he had some personal guilt in the matter.

"I just want him back, you know?" She shut her eyes for a minute, trying not to get too emotional. It wasn't fair. Sam had finally been coming to terms with himself—they had been friends again. He had been so brave and she loved him so much and now he was some robot-version of himself. Getting agitated, Alex suddenly sat up and whacked Dean in the side of the face with her shin in the process. Oops. He thankfully kept on sleeping. Alex sat against the headboard and hugged her arms around her knees, looking down towards her feet. Cas, still propped on his side, looked up at her silently, his features gaunt with quiet emotional distress. Alex looked at him and wished he could just magically fix everything. "You sure you don't know a way to steal a soul back from a demon?" she asked, because maybe he'd stumbled upon some solution or would remember something he'd forgotten.

Immediately, she saw the no in his eyes. "No. I don't know how to steal a soul back from a demon," he answered heavily.

Pain and frustration washed over her anew. "There has to be a way," she said, so tired of looking and not finding anything. Cas was sitting up now too. "There has to be."

Cas contemplated her sidelong with vast apprehension. "What if there isn't?"

His question and the look in his eyes was like a sledgehammer to the stomach. "...Then I guess Sam and Dean earn it back how they have been," she said, stressed to the point of puking at the thought of possible outcomes. "Getting Crowley his monster daddies. And once Sam has it back… Crowley's a dead demon walking." Alex was trying not to think about the alternative: Sam possibly never having a soul again if things went south and if Crowley screwed them over. And here was Alex's darkest fear: what if Crowley didn't even have Sam's soul?

In an unexpected move, Cas shifted closer and put his arm around Alex, pulling her closer to his side silently and sending a rush of comfort through her. He took her hand and pulled it close, kissing the knuckle of her middle finger, running his thumb across all of her knuckles afterward. Alex forgot her worries at Cas's silent comforts. It was going to be okay. Somehow. At least she had Cas. And Dean. And Bobby.

Cas continued to hold her hand, a silent I'm here. Alex contemplated his familiar face and expression and wondered what his life was like up there with the war and everything. She wasn't the only one going through crap right now. Not knowing what his burdens were or being able to help him in any way was hard.

Cas had been vague earlier when Dean asked about the war, so Alex chanced asking again. He would tell her the truth. He always did. "Balthazar said that things aren't going good for you upstairs," she ventured cautiously. "Is that true?"

Cas was immediately a little less open. He seemed to be stressed underneath the surface, weary—not exactly afraid but not confident either. "No," he said, not looking her in the eyes. "Things are not going well."

Worry and fear closed around her heart and then alarm. She was so powerless that she wanted to scream. She held his hand tighter. "Isn't there something I can do to help?" Maybe it was a stupid question but she wanted to do something. Anything. It felt incompatible with how she loved to do nothing to help.

Fondness softened his expression as his eyes rested on her face. "This is my burden to bear, Alex, not yours."

"I'm here with you though," she said, refusing to accept that. "I promised you that whatever you faced, I would face too. You don't have to do this alone."

His hand tightened on hers. "I'm not alone."

It warmed her heart to hear that, to know that he didn't feel like he was up against the entire world. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, savoring this time together and feeling a little relief, just a little. "You should know that I've put a new watcher on you," Castiel said presently. "Samandriel will not disturb you as Balthazar did. He is very loyal, not prone to disobedience. He remains outside of the house and will not disturb you or spy on you but will follow you if you leave here, to ensure your safety."

Alex nodded understanding, still not loving the idea but figuring oh well. It obviously made Cas feel better. She thought back to what Balthazar had said about the other angels passing judgment on Castiel because of her and she sobered, staring into the knot of Cas's tie and letting a long moment of quiet pass. "Cas, do all the other angels think I'm bad news?"

Maybe he was surprised at the question or didn't understand it. "What?"

"Balthazar implied that you get a lot of shit because of me," Alex replied, still looking at his tie.

Cas was quiet for a moment. "If you mean that the angels disapprove of us… yes. Most of my brothers and sisters fail to see what I find so captivating and precious about humanity. About you." She melted to hear him say that, leaning back and looked up into his crisp blue eyes that reinforced what he'd just said: they beheld her as wonderful and beloved. It struck her all over again and stunned her to be loved like that. "Some judge me for it, others misunderstand," he said, growing a little downcast as he looked at her with pain in his eyes—pain and fear at the thought that his love might endanger her. "Others still seek to use you as leverage over me… the price I pay for being so transparent in what I feel for you."

That's one of the things she loved about Cas though. That his love for her had demanded to be known, had reached out to her even before he'd had a human body in an act of selflessness and compassion: restoring her voice. She was sorry that he faced discrimination but that seemed to be a theme with their relationship—people didn't understand it. She smiled a little, brushing her fingers against his cheek, thinking of how crazy lucky she was. "Haven't you ever read love stories?" she questioned softly. "There's always risk and danger in the best ones."

He smiled back, affection hidden in every crinkle near his eyes. "I don't read love stories," he said huskily. "You're the one who does that."

"True," she replied, loving his cheekiness—she never knew when it would appear but it made her giddy every time it did. She studied him, growing warm with feelings of love and appreciation. "Ours is my favorite though."

He smiled a little, looking like he wanted to kiss her then, but he glanced down at Dean and seemed to think better of it. Chagrin rested in his expression and for a moment, they sat there in mutual frustration… Alex's mind wandered to possible escapes. Cas could poof them away to anywhere on earth, or poof Dean back downstairs easily. Cas however, for the moment, was becoming distracted, falling into somber reflection. What was he thinking about? He looked like he were about to ask something important. "Do you remember I once asked you how to know if a choice were right or not?" he asked slowly, looking at her with a very knitted brow and great amounts of trepidation. "I still don't know."

Something in his tone made her sit up, propping onto her elbow again. "I do remember. And I remember telling you that sometimes you just won't know." She studied him with increasing apprehension—something was eating at him. "What it is, Cas?"

His eyes came up to hers, and the inscrutable emotions held inside those blue depths were impossible to fully comprehend. "Do you agree that the apocalypse should be stopped at all costs?"

Alex felt suspicious for some reason, unsure of where he was going with this. "Yeah… definitely." But why was he asking that?

The anxiety didn't budge from his demeanor. "So do I," he said. "But many in Heaven question my methods. Including myself."

Head canting to the side a little, Alex tried to read him. "What do you mean? What methods?"

He shook his head, appearing to want to avoid talking about it in depth. "Just… everything."

Studying him quietly for a moment, Alex decided not to press him. "I trust you," she said earnestly. "If anyone can do this, it's you."

Mild relief showed on his tired features and gratitude shone in his eyes. He held her hand again. "Thank you, Alex. Your faith in me is very meaningful."

Dean made a snorting sound and moaned softly, mumbling "no, I said bacon," then went quiet again. Cas and Alex looked at him in tandem, silent for a minute. His mouth hung open and his arm was flopped across his stomach, legs twisted funny across the lower part of the bed. He didn't move or speak again.

Alex looked at Cas again, studying in depth, wondered where his wings were right now, imagining what they might look like if she could see them again. She tried to remember exactly what they had looked like and couldn't really remember the details. It was a mystery she had contemplated for the past couple of weeks and she looked to him for an answer while she was thinking about it. "Hey Cas, why could I see your wings in that dream?"

"It wasn't a dream—you were completely unconscious," he said, and he was thinking hard. "The human mind and soul are closest to the astral plane of existence most closely when unconscious. I think that is why you could perceive them."

Alex took a second, trying to translate what he'd just said into more easy to understand terms. "…So I have to be knocked out on my ass to see your wings?"

Cas looked at her and was that amusement scattered among slight confusion? "That's… not how I phrased it."

"I know," she said, a crooked grin on her face.

"Mrrfffgrr." Dean suddenly twitched and one of his feet kicked erratically.

Cas looked at the other man with a lessening smile. "The noises he makes when he sleeps are very annoying."

After a lifetime of his and Sam's noisy snores and nonsensical sleep-talking, she somewhat agreed but still found a fond smile softening her face as Dean turned his head a little, making a face in his sleep. "Nrrghuhwhhh?" he moaned softly. Oh, Dean.

Cas contemplated the oldest Winchester quietly and his voice was just a soft breath when he spoke next. "When can we tell him?" he asked Alex, looking at her anxiously. "About us? All of it."

It made her automatically terrified to think about that. Her stomach twisted and her heart clenched. "Not yet," she said, because she couldn't imagine a worse time to come out with it… while Dean was close to an all-out emotional break and Sam wasn't himself. They needed to wait until there were less problems and issues stacked against them then very carefully sit Dean down and explain it and hope he didn't lose his mind. "When the war's over, when Sam's got his soul back maybe," she said aloud, avoiding Cas's gaze for the moment.

He observed her for a moment, trying to understand the hesitation in her voice. "You seem apprehensive."

"I'm... nervous about what he'll say," Alex admitted. And nervous wasn't quite the right word. If the family fell apart because Dean refused to accept her and Cas being married… she wouldn't be able to take that. And she already knew that Dean would be so angry that she'd done what she had without even talking to him about it, he'd be hurt that she kept it from him and didn't let him be part of it. What a mess. Alex was scared shitless for the coming day when she'd have to come clean about it and face the music.

"Do you think he'll accept it?" Cas asked, pressing gently for more from her.

Alex looked at Dean's slack, snoozing face. "Hard to tell," she said darkly, wondering if she'd dug herself into an inescapable hole with this situation. "I hope he will."

Cas took her tense silence in for a couple seconds then took her hand again comfortingly, trying to draw her gaze. "I think perhaps he'll pass less judgment when he knows that I'm not a fleeting lover," he said, holding her gaze in his own—his eyes were warm and gentle. "That I'm committed to you as your husband."

Her heart caught and breath stuttered, she glanced at Dean nervously when Cas said that out loud. Sometimes she thought maybe it was all in her head—some romance-novel fantasy or daydream, what her relationship was to Cas. But, it wasn't. He was in on it with her and it was real. She melted again. How is this even my real life? From the way he was looking at her with hungry and affectionate eyes, she thought he was getting ready to take them someplace and have his way with her… and then his expression abruptly changed. Annoyance and grudging came over his features, his mouth thinned and he looked upward in exasperation. "I'm being called away again." He let out a frustrated exhale through his nose and looked at Alex, then at Dean. "Do you want me to move him for you?"

Disappointed but becoming accustomed to his sudden disappearances (plus grateful for the time they had had), Alex shook her head, smiling softly and sadly. "Nah."

Cas nodded, looked at her with marked sadness. "I want to kiss you goodbye."

She smiled a little at that. "Okay." She leaned in to give him what he wanted but he shook his head, surprising her.

"Not here." He stood and held his hand out to her, beckoning her to come off the bed—she took his hand and scooted off the bed and to stand up in front of him. He readily kissed her in a way that felt like it was supposed to be a brief goodbye. But when Alex pulled back from the kiss, Cas did not.

His face followed hers, lips parting softly and the lower half of his face tilted in to hers again, nose brushing her cheek as his open mouth brushed and kissed hers in a slow, burning, deep way that surprised her very pleasantly. His hands came to twine through her hair and pull her face even further to his as he kissed her in a way that left her hot all over. One of his hands snuck down and pressed into the small of her back, pulling her against him fully as his mouth explored hers. She made the softest little whimper, fully aware that her brother was only a few feet away and that Cas was hot and heavy making out with her. Even as she thought that Cas pulled back, regretful and breathy, his thumb grazing her jawline as she resisted his loss, eyes heavy-lidded for a moment as if she were drugged—that's how his kiss made her feel. High as a kite. She opened her eyes to look into his, which were dark, dilated—his thumb dragged against her lower lip. "I want to traverse every part of your body with my mouth," he said in the softest sandpaper whisper, and Alex died a little. Now that was sexy. And fucking maddening. Maybe he would be good at dirty talk someday.

"Don't tell me stuff like that when you're about to leave," she whispered back, wanting so badly to selfishly beg him to stay and do what he had just told her he wanted to do—she'd throw Dean out the window if she had to, that's how desperate she was for Cas. But she didn't beg. She bit her tongue and stowed her frustrations and yearnings and touched his face, wondered how long it would be before she saw him again. "Be safe and come back soon," she said, heart breaking a little because the goodbyes never got easier. In fact, they hurt worse each time.

He looked unwilling to go, but they both knew he had to. "As soon as I'm able," he promised, squeezing her hand before he left.

The attic felt empty at the loss of his presence even though the space was stuffed to the gills with flowers and a long-lost brother snored in bed just a few feet away. Sadness ached within Alex and she stood there a couple minutes in the quiet, her harrowed thoughts at the forefront again. Dean smacked his mouth in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent, drawing her attention. His legs were hanging off the bed… moron. Alex sighed and walked around to the side of the bed he occupied and hooked her arms underneath his armpits, pulling his huge brawny shape upwards with a grunt and very little finesse until his head was on a pillow and his legs didn't hang off the bed uncomfortably.

She went to the other side of the bed and sat there with her feet on the bed again, looking at him sidelong. "No, no," he muttered, eyebrows knit together like he was in pain or distress. "No," he repeated. Alex reached over and took his hand and his tense face relaxed a little, he went quiet. She studied his face with trepidation. His breakdown earlier ran across her mind again. Tomorrow he'd wake up and say it was the alcohol talking, he'd say he was fine and that she didn't need to worry. But she didn't believe he was fine. Ever since Hell he'd been different. And who wouldn't be? Alex worried. Was Dean going to snap under all this pressure? Should she insist about rejoining him? Cas wouldn't like that but… Alex didn't like the sidelines. Maybe she couldn't help Cas in Heaven but she sure as hell could help Dean on earth… Dean's hand twitched, suddenly tightening on hers in his sleep and she smiled a little. Mr. Tough Stuff, aren't you?

She was reminded of the days when she and Sam had been little. When there were loud storms Dean would sleep on the floor beside whatever bed she and Sammy shared so that Alex's arm could hang off the bed and hold his hand. Loud noises used to freak her out. And being able to reach down and know her big brother was there had always set her at ease. Made her braver. Wasn't it time to return the favor? Be there for the brother who had always been there for her? Dean had sacrificed so much over the years for her and Sam, but especially for her. It was unreal how much this guy cared about family and keeping it together, looking out for each other. Alex thought back to the day she'd dropped out of school—at fifteen it shouldn't have been legal but she'd done some pretty clever forgery and pulled it off without a hitch. At nineteen, Dean was still in high school at that time but endlessly languishing in the tenth grade. He'd clearly given up years before he actually dropped out—he'd always been several grades behind—but he just completely stopped trying one day. He stayed in school though. Not to learn or to graduate. To make sure someone always had Alex's back. He'd never said that, but the day after she dropped out, he'd dropped out too. Sam of course had denounced them both as lazy and brainless then yelled at Dean for being a bad example, for being content to go nowhere fast. Alex hadn't agreed. She'd known all over again that her oldest brother was better than a superhero.

She still knew that. Dean snorted in his sleep and turned onto his side away from Alex, pulling his hand out of hers as he mumbled some word she didn't understand. Alex shook her head, sighed affectionately and got up and began to look for a spare blanket to put on him.

---

Castiel left Alex's side unhappily to respond to Balthazar's very untimely summons. He went from the attic to the place where Balthazar had hailed from: It was twilight in this place—the clear sky was a dark burnt orange and all around low desert stretched. A billboard that said NOTHING in large block letters towered over a small, squat, yellow building. The decrepit parking lot that Castiel found himself standing in was overgrown and empty.

Balthazar stood beside Cas and put a cheeky grin on. "Well, I've found Hezion," he announced proudly, indicating the sad little building they stood nearby.

Hezion was hiding here? Castiel looked at the still, lifeless building and then his brother sidelong, skeptical. "And the weapons?"

Balthazar hesitated. And then without warning, Hezion appeared in front of the other two angels. Dark, striking features set into fair skin were a mask of hostility and mistrust.

"What are you doing here?" Hezion asked defensively, and Castiel's eyes glanced downward, seeing how the other angel's blade was clenched at his side.

"We could ask you the same," Castiel returned, letting his own blade slide into his hand as a silent answer to Hezion's stance. "We're here for the weapons."

Surprise rippled across Hezion's face. "The weapons?" he asked, as if he had forgotten about them completely.

Balthazar smiled smugly, arms crossed. "What did you think we wanted, that tacky jacket you're wearing?"

A dark glance slid sidelong from Hezion to Balthazar. "I don't have them anymore."

"Pardon?" Balthazar asked, his smile falling.

Hezion said nothing. "Where are they?" Castiel pressed dangerously, because he needed these weapons desperately to turn the ride of the war.

Hezion's jaw tightened. He was straightforward but distracted all at once. "I don't know. I hid them in the Mulu caves but someone must have found them. They're gone."

Anger ran through Cas's veins. "You're lying," he accused in a dark voice.

Hezion shook his head, almost apathetic or disinterested. "I'm not. I would give them to you if I had them. I want nothing to do with Heaven anymore. I want to be left out of it and left alone."

"You took half of the heavenly weapons—and until we have them again, you will not be left alone," Castiel replied threateningly, angered at Hezion's gall.

Hezion shook his head. "I hope that you defeat Raphael, Castiel," he said, further confounding Cas. "You have my apologies for the things I've done. I was wrong about everything."

"…What sort of trick are you trying to pull?" Castiel asked, mystified. Hezion seemed different than Castiel remembered him ever being. He wasn't cocky and smug with an ever-present smirk. He seemed contrite and anxious, two things that didn't fit with his personality.

"Hello-ooo," called a female voice. They all turned to look at the owner of the voice.

About fifty feet away a young woman with tanned olive skin and raven hair leaned against the doorway to the little yellow building. Her appearance was wild and strange—she wore a flowing Middle-Eastern influenced dress, no shoes, and vivid powders smudged her arms and face in curious patterns. She had her head cocked deeply to the side and looked at them with interest, her eyes traversing their heads, seeing their halos.

"Oh my," Balthazar commented in surprise at the sight of her.

Castiel's mouth opened slightly in stunned epiphany as he looked at the young woman. He recognized her for who she was immediately and looked at Hezion for explanation. Hezion's face held panic in it when he saw that Castiel and Balthazar knew. "She doesn't remember and her Grace is gone," he stumbled out in a hurried and low voice to keep from being overheard. He held his hands out slightly, begging Castiel not to do or say anything to the young woman. "You can't tell her, it might destroy her mind—they cursed her before she fell and she remembers nothing, not even who or what she is."

"Oh don't be dramatic," Balthazar said, scoffing and moving forward for the young woman.

Hezion blocked his way immediately, blade flashing ominously, shoulders heaving with passion and conviction. "Take one more step and I will kill you where you stand," Hezion growled desperately. His hand turned white on the blade.

Balthazar looked at his brother in judgment, like he thought Hezion was pathetic and amusing. "…Little overprotective, aren't you?" he asked skeptically.

But Castiel suddenly understood everything he had always wondered about and looked at Hezion in a new, dawning light. "She doesn't remember," Hezion repeated, sounding very much afraid of what Balthazar and Castiel might do if they didn't believe him. "And I didn't either—they erased everything, everything. But when I found her a few months ago… I saw her and remembered."

"It was you," Castiel said, looking at Hezion in something almost like wonder.

Hezion looked at Castiel with a face full of despair. "Yes." He looked back at the young woman who watched from the doorway. "And she doesn't remember me at all," he said, sorrow filling his voice. "Not even a little bit."

---

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. In the beginning God created the angels—Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Watchers. But before these were created, the five archangels existed.

Among the archangels, she was beloved of her brothers Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel. The angel of wind and color, Genesis was a fierce beauty to behold, festooned with eight wings and feet of fire, a face that blazed with a golden aura in her true form. Some said she was God's favorite because of her smaller and more delicate beauty. Her brothers loved her and the lower order angels revered her when they were created. But none so much as Hezion.

When God placed the first two human beings onto the earth, all of the angels gathered to watch this new chapter unfolding… but two angels were not present. Genesis and Hezion, having loved each other from afar for the billions of years went to the inmost parts of Heaven and confessed their feelings for one another secretly. They made plans to hide on the earth once enough humans populated the planet enough for them to go unnoticed and be safe from discovery. It wasn't long after this that God disappeared from Heaven altogether.

A thousand years passed and the earth filled with human beings. Genesis and Hezion met again in secret at last, preparing to rip out their Graces and fall together. But Michael and Raphael discovered them and were deeply angry. The oldest of the archangel brothers, Michael, tore them apart from each other and imagining himself as the leader in their father's absence, Michael decreed that Genesis would have what she wanted: she would fall to earth and never know love or remember who she was. She would wander the earth and be born over and over again, die over and over again for the blasphemy of loving her brother. Hezion's punishment would be that he would not remember her face or name, that he would be forced to forget it all. And so it was carried out. Genesis was thrown to earth after Michael tore her Grace out of her and Hezion's mind was erased completely as he struggled with all of his might to escape, follow his lover, fall with her. But he did not have success. With the memory wipe he lost all semblance of the angel he had been. Instead of the former things, he pursued self-gain in a desperate attempt to fill the strange void he experienced, the constant feeling that something was off or wrong or missing. It would be thousands of years before he realized and remembered. And then the guilt would begin for the choices he'd made, the mistakes he had fallen victim to.

The name Genesis was struck from the heavenly record. But some remembered and told the stories of the mysterious archangel who took her lower-order angel brother as a lover. Many believed it was a myth and legend. But it was not. And it was not over, even though Michael thought he had ended it for all time with his actions.

---

Castiel looked at Hezion in quiet wonder, questions scattering across his mind. "How did you find her?" he breathed, studying Genesis with intrigue. She stood off and watched with a dreamy, unaware look on her face. She had the halo of an archangel—fierce and fiery, grander than any other angel.

Hezion spoke in hushed tones. "I was hoping to find the missing archangel and deliver her to Raphael to cement my status in his ranks," he admitted shamefacedly. "I heard that you were searching for her and I thought…" he trailed off, loathing passing across his face. "All I cared about was my position in Heaven and serving whoever was on the winning side. And when I found her… I remembered who I am. Or I guess... who I was." His face was etched in staunch worry. "She can't know who she is yet, I'm afraid it will break her." He glanced at Balthazar warily. "I thought we were safe here but it appears I was wrong. I am going to take her someplace where no one will ever find her, where I can protect her until the end of time."

Castiel looked at Hezion closely. "Does she… care for you?" he asked, wondering how Hezion would remember Genesis but Genesis would not remember Hezion. Surely if they had such a deep connection she would recall something. And even if she didn't remember him, perhaps she would have fallen in love all over again.

Hezion didn't look optimistic. Only more grim. "I don't know. I told her that I am her guardian angel, because she knew I was an angel right away. She believes she's a mystic or a prophetess." Hezion's sadness was easy to hear. Sadness and love. Castiel recognized the care in his brother's voice. "She's… lost. Confused. Not who she used to be. She calls herself Aura. She remembers nothing of who she is."

Balthazar leaned in toward Cas slightly. "A word, Cas, if you don't mind. Shoo, Hez, will you?"

Hezion looked at Balthazar mistrustfully but backed off, going over to Genesis, who smiled up at him pleasantly, seeming childlike and diluted to Castiel. Hezion met her smile with a thin, forced, pained one of his own—full of wounded love. Cas was stricken: he was not the only angel in creation who had fallen into inescapable love.

Balthazar took hold of Cas's arm, demanding his attention. "Cas, buddy, if the archangel is mentally damaged, this could work in our favor," he said, sounding mildly excited. "I know a few angels upstairs good at… ah, fiddling with things, directing mindsets. Do you know Naomi?"

Cas narrowed his eyes. Did Balthazar mean he wanted to reprogram Genesis to be a pawn? The thought of fighting a war of free will that way was morally abhorrent to Castiel. Additionally, when he looked at Hezion and Genesis, he saw himself and Alex. He saw how Hezion loved this angel even though she didn't know or remember him anymore. Cas found himself remembering when he had loved Alex in the beginning and she had looked at him with fear, mistrust, even hostility. He hadn't understood what he'd felt for her but it had been there all the same. Care, devotion, love. In the past, Castiel might have done whatever it took to achieve an end. But now, Castiel was different. Even though he was despairing to win the war, there were some lines he would not cross. This was one of them.

He shook his head. "No." He looked at Balthazar grimly. "Leave them alone."

Shocked, Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"We will find the stolen weapons," Castiel said plainly. "Hezion and the archangel will be left out of this."

"You can't be serious…" Balthazar said, seeming to think Castiel was joking. When he saw that Cas was serious, he got a little aggressive. "This is a programmable archangel and could turn the tide of the whole bloody war, forget the weapons!"

Castiel's face darkened. "I said no," he repeated in a voice that reminded Balthazar of his place. At that moment, the familiar voice of his lieutenant sounded in his mind and Castiel glanced upwards, any hope for seeing Alex again that day diminished. "Rachel is calling us to the battlefields," he said, growing weary at the thought of more endless fighting. "Go, Balthazar."

Appearing indignant, Balthazar nevertheless did as he was asked and left.

Hezion came back over to Cas as Genesis stared at the sky with a vapid, mindless smile on her face. "Take her far from here, Hezion," Cas decreed heavily, hoping this was the right choice. "If she remembers who she is and is friendly to our cause… you know how to find me."

Surprise and gratitude and utter relief came over Hezion. "Thank you, Castiel," he said, not seeming able to believe the act of mercy. "I can never repay you for this." He paused, regarding Cas regretfully. "I'm sorry for the role I played in bringing any harm or trouble to the human you love." Cas said nothing, but inwardly he struggled. Everyone knew about him and Alex. Everyone. "I didn't know what I was doing. I have a lot of penance to pay." Hezion paused, his face filled with earnestness. "I will make it up to you someday, brother. I promise you."

Castiel heard Rachel calling more insistently and growing exasperated, he looked at his brother briefly. "Go now, Hezion," he commanded. And without anything further, Castiel returned to the war in Heaven, the place where he felt trapped and consumed and defeated. He would remain there for some time to come.

---

Two Days Later

Alex walked Dean out onto the front porch of Bobby's house. Her expression was pinched. "Got everything?"

Dean had a duffel slung across his shoulder. He nodded. "Yup." He stopped in the middle of the porch, turned and gave her a look of contrition at the way she glowered at him. "Hey. Don't look at me with those big sad eyes," he said, trying to get her to lighten up.

As a result, Alex got even more sullen. "What, you want me to look happy?" She was foul-tempered. He was leaving with Sam after two days of visiting and he was not letting her go with and she wanted to strangle him. They'd fought about it last night and he'd refused to hear her out. "I'm not supposed to be here sitting around," she grumbled, then crossed her arms, shifted her weight, and sighed. Dean had been insistent. Under no circumstances was he going to 'let her' work for Crowley. She scratched her ear, thinking out loud. "Think I might go look for Jamie some more."

Dean looked hesitant about that proclamation then like he was briefly considering changing his mind about her going along with him and Sam. But he settled on a thin smile and a well wish. "Just… be careful out there, Alex," he said, and hugged her tightly. "Really, really careful, hear me?"

She gave in and hugged him too, even though she was still very unhappy. "You too," she said grudgingly with an agreeing nod.

He pulled back, held her by both arms. "Won't be much longer," he promised.

She was cynical. "That's what everyone keeps saying."

"I mean how many more damn monsters can the King of Hell need?" Dean asked, cracking a grin despite how squicky he obviously felt about the job at hand. He turned to Bobby, who was waiting to say goodbye. The two men hugged briefly. "Take care of her Bobby," Dean said, re-hefting his duffel.

"Usually's the other way around," Bobby returned, sending Alex a fond glance. "You boys be safe."

They all looked to where Sam was: he waited in the car, engrossed in his phone screen, ignoring them all. Dean nodded at Bobby, sent Alex a pensive smile, then held a hand up in farewell. "Will do."

This is such bullshit, Alex thought as she watched the car rumble down the driveway then disappear. Every second that passed left her feeling more and more powerless and pained. She couldn't stay cooped up here—she was going to go nuts for real. She glanced at her Mustang where it sat, deliberating. Then deciding.

Well, Samandriel or whatever your name is, hope you're up for a road trip.

Alex went inside to pack.