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.

66. Slow Burn

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 66 / Slow Burn

"Take this nothingness from me."
- RED

---

Three Weeks Later
Flint, Michigan
3:40am

What the hell? Dean Winchester blinked a couple times, woozy, coming to and not remembering getting knocked out in the first place. It was dark in here… last he recalled, he and Sam had been hanging around in an abandoned old house while discussing (well, arguing over) the whole working-for-Crowley thing and where it was getting them: abso-freakin-lutely nowhere. Then Sam had disappeared when Dean had turned around… and sixth sense telling him something was off, Dean had crept through the abandoned house with his gun drawn. Someone must have gotten the jump on him from behind.

Son of a bitch his head hurt! Dean stifled a pained groan as he looked up. Across from him, Sam was regaining consciousness too—he was tied to a chair just like Dean was and brothers faced each other, six feet between them. A man dressed in leather with a bald head stood in the corner of the dark and dilapidated room and watched them closely—his eyes were black as the night outside the ramshackle house they were in. Not in the mood for any of it, Dean let out a foul breath. Great, more freakin' demons. Just what he'd wanted.

"What now?" he asked churlishly, sending a glare at stunt demon number two. Was this one of Crowley's henchmen or what?

Clicking footsteps sounded behind Dean. Someone was slowly waltzing into the room but he couldn't see who. Were those high heels? Sam's eyes narrowed as his eyes caught sight of the owner of the footsteps. "Well this is a surprise," he commented darkly.

Dean craned his neck sideways and up, and the second he saw her, his blood curdled and pure hatred overcame him. "Evil bitch," he muttered, clenching his jaw and straining against the ropes. She had two more shady looking demon henchmen with her. This was not good.

"Keep sweet talking me this could go a whole new direction," Meg drawled through a self-assured smirk, leaning down beside him. Some of her hair trailed along his shoulder and touched his neck in a whisper before she straightened.

"Meg," Dean said, smiling coldly to keep from flying into a rage. "I've been dying to see you again!" This was the demon who had killed Ellen and Jo and as such, Dean had the most brutal of revenge murders on the mind.

"Well, here I am, big boy," the demon replied, sashaying over to stand in front of him. She bit her lip and let a dark eyebrow arch up, voice dripping with suggestiveness. "So, what should we do now?"

"How about I rip you to shreds?" Dean suggested.

"Kinky, I like!" Meg returned lightly, enjoying the clear hatred in Dean's eyes. "A little Q and A first, if you don't mind. Where's your boss?"

Sam scoffed and huffed loud enough that Meg turned to look at him. "You think we work for somebody?" he asked scornfully.

"I happen to know for a fact you've been juggling Crowley's orphans," Meg replied easily, undaunted. Sam and Dean exchanged a brief glance. Great, so that was public access info now? Dean wanted to punch a wall. "Now where is he?" Meg pressed.

"Don't know," Sam returned in perfect apathy. "Don't care."

Meg's outward facade wobbled a little—impatience made her get a little indignant. "You've been working his beat for months," she pointed out in a strained voice.

"Doesn't mean we get face time," Sam said blandly.

Meg was quiet for a long moment, her expression darkening. Then she smirked again and pointedly ignored Sam, came over to Dean, and stroked a hand down onto his shoulder before swinging a leg over him to straddle his lap. Repulsed, Dean tried not to show it because he hated for her to get the upper hand in any small way. "Where's he take all those things you snatch up for him?" she asked him in a purr. "I bet you an all-day sucker that's where his majesty's holed up!" When Dean said nothing, just let a little fuck you smile play on his lips, Meg's catty smile dropped and her voice deepened with displeasure. "Okay, officially over the foreplay." She pulled out a knife—the demon blade—and held it to Dean's neck hard. His smile fell. She spoke through gritted teeth. "Satisfy me or I please myself."

Sam laughed suddenly, a rich and confident sound that made Dean even more pissed off than he already was. "Something funny, Sam?" he asked, tense all over at the feeling of sharp, cool metal against his throat. One flick of the wrist and he was a dead man and Sam was just laughing it up?

"Yeah," Sam replied, looking at the female demon. "Meg."

"Really?" Dean challenged. "'Cause where I'm sitting—"

"Don't worry," Sam said, smiling in that sharp, chilling way he had now. "She can't do jack squat. She's totally screwed."

"Sam, not helping!" Dean protested when Meg held the knife tighter against his throat. Her face worked against a fury Dean didn't understand.

Sam's smile held steady as he looked Meg over with a pleased glitter in his eyes. "Look at her, Dean. She's furious. If she could kill you, she'd've done it by now. She's running."

Meg's exterior showed anger and she slowly turned her head to look at Sam. "Am I?"

"Judging by the level of flop sweat on all of you, yeah," Sam returned, cool and aloof. Meg stood slowly, no longer interested in Dean. "Which means you're running from Crowley," Sam continued, the picture of casual and conversational. "Which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he's the big man on campus."

Meg sauntered over his way, hips swaying with more show than necessary. "Okay, you know what…" she said lowly, voice filled with taunting and threatening tones.

Sam didn't bat an eye. He looked at the knife in her hand then back into her eyes. "What?" he challenged. "Go ahead. Kill me." He smiled at her, and the smile only grew wider and more triumphant as she stood there and did nothing but glare at him with a deepening scowl. "That's what I thought," he said, then his smug gaze cut to Dean. "She can't kill us. She needs us to get her to Crowley so she can stick that knife in his neck." Smirking now, reveling in his insight, Sam looked at Meg and raised his chin, narrowed his eyes. "How long exactly have you been looking for him, Meg?" He sounded like he was taunting her.

Meg was chilly and curt but trying to maintain her who cares attitude. "Long enough, sweet cheeks."

"Huh, I bet," Sam commented, enjoying himself. Dean wasn't sure where this was going and fiddled against his ropes, glanced at the bald demon over in the corner and the one with locs that was a few feet off from Meg—there was another one behind Dean where he couldn't see, too. How were he and Sam gonna get out of this one? Even if she couldn't kill them, torture was a fair bet.

"So, you know what you gotta do now, right?" Sam continued, addressing Meg like he was the one in control.

"What's that, Goldilocks?" Meg asked. She sounded like she wanted to strangle him.

Sam's reply was quiet and shocking: "Work with us."

Dean did a double take. Did he hear right? "Whoa, w-what?"

Sam ignored him and kept speaking to Meg. "We'll hand you Crowley with a bow," he said with no shortage of authority. "On one condition: we come with you and you help us wring a little something out of him before you hack him to bits."

Interested, Meg's head canted slightly to the side. "Wring what out of him?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam said brusquely. "Question is, can you get us what we need?"

This was crazy. Sam had gone loco. "I apprenticed under Alastair in Hell just like your brother," Meg said proudly, and the reminder gave Dean a sickening jolt in the stomach. She smirked his way, playful and annoying as usual. "So Dean, can I make Crowley do whatever I want?"

Memories of the horrors he had inflicted on souls under Alastair came back and darkened every part of Dean. He remembered screams that begged for mercy that he refused to give. He remembered why he'd finally broken… he'd still never told anyone the real and exact reason he finally took up the instruments of torture, because it was something no one needed to know but him. He pushed it from his mind. "Yeah," he said heavily and unwillingly, addressing Sam and not Meg. "She can."

"It's a deal then," Meg said, pleased again, and her lips slid open to reveal white teeth. "Hugs and puppies all around! You boys get to work on finding where Crow-Crow is and give me a ring when you find him, hm?"

Dean wouldn't look at her. He just stared straight ahead. Was Sam out of his soulless mind? "You gonna untie us?" he asked the demon in a low, tight voice. Because if she did… he'd take that knife from her and stab it into her quicker than she could say boo.

"Please…" she murmured, looking at him with eyes that suggested sensual things. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy it." She made a phone sign with her hand, held it up to her ear and mouthed 'call me' then chuckled slow and deep before leaving. Her footsteps clicked out of the room and he heard her pause at the doorway.

The silent bald demon looked at Sam and Dean intently, walking uncomfortably closer to Dean to give him a piercing glare. "…What, you gonna kiss me?" Dean asked insolently.

Somewhere near the doorway where Dean couldn't see, Meg gave a soft little laugh and called her demon mook away. "Come on."

The sounds of their steps faded then stopped completely as they disappeared into thin air from Dean's best guess. He stared at Sam hard. Even though he was mad enough to spit, he forced himself to be quiet for a few beats and stay calm because honestly, it was getting to the point where he didn't know what Sam would do—ever. He didn't want to poke the bear by flying off the handle while tied up and weaponless—Dean wouldn't put anything past his brother anymore and he was subsequently reaching a breaking point with everything—the working for demons and getting nowhere, the soulless brother who had no empathy or heart, the sister who was off on her own and going stir-crazy… it was everything Dean hated, having the family divided like this. Being all on his own like this.

Sam was looking down at the ropes that were around his chest, thinking deeply, not seeming to be bothered one way or another by what had just happened.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Dean asked his brother with great amounts of restraint. Working with Meg was even worse than working with Crowley.

His brother glanced at him with eyes that had no anything at all in them. "No. I just know how to play the game," Sam replied factually and stood up (he had to hunch over since he was tied to the chair) and then rammed backwards into the wall full force a couple times, breaking the wooden chair he was in completely to get free. Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed at the statement and actions alike. Sam let the pieces of chair fall off and subsequently shrugged the ropes off and over his shoulders—then stopped sort of suddenly. He was looking at the door in mild surprise, seeing someone there. Great. Meg was back. Dean turned his head toward her, temper flaring again.

"Okay, listen you little bitch, if you think—" he started, hearing her walk into the room more fully. And then she leaned, cross-armed, into his view and Dean balked, went wide-eyed. Oops. Not Meg. "…Alex?!"

His sister put an impish little smile on, eyeing his ropes. "Hi. Nice to see you too." She looked the same as she always did: messy hair, jeans, work boots, an old cargo jacket over her old gray ARMY shirt.

Dumbstruck at her unexpected appearance, Dean found speaking difficult as he tried to understand. "How… where'd you come from?" he asked, freaking out because she'd come thisclose to a solo run in with Meg and company. "How'd you find us?"

"I was in the neighborhood," she wisecracked, further mystifying Dean. She clomped a boot up to rest against the chair's arm and she pulled out her switchblade from an ankle holster. She let the blade flick open and put her foot back down. At the look on his face (how the hell did you find us, no really), she paused. "Seriously, Dean?" she asked, sounding a little let down. "How long have we been doing this stuff? The GPS on your phone, dummy." Ah. Of course. Oldest trick in the Winchester book. Alex stood behind the chair and severed the ropes holding him to the chair with a few upward slices. "I was in state, wrapped up a hunt then looked around for Jamie awhile, figured I'd check in with you two before heading back to Bobby's." She glanced at Sam, who was standing back and observing without much of an expression on his face. Alex hugged a very shell-shocked Dean around the neck from behind briefly then ruffled his hair. "You didn't think I'd spend all this time not knowing where you two were at all times, did you?" she asked, then shoved him by the head slightly with roughhouse affection.

So she'd been keeping tabs on them this whole time…? Dean was double surprised—he was supposed to be the one who did that kind of stuff. "You didn't tell me you were in Michigan," he accused, standing up and rubbing his left bicep where a rope had been cutting in uncomfortably. He thought she'd been at Bobby's this whole time—she hadn't said she was or wasn't but he'd just assumed because whenever he'd asked what she was doing, she'd said research and reading and when he'd asked if she went to look for Jamie a couple weeks back she'd answered 'not yet' and changed the subject. He looked at his sister closely. She was kind of sneakier than he remembered her ever being before and it bugged him. Whatever. Too surprised and also knowing that complaining at her for it would do nothing but probably provoke a fight, he asked about Jamie instead. "So you find her or what?"

He saw the no before she even said it. "No. Nothing," Alex said, pensive. Her expression gave away the conflict she felt over not being able to locate her old hunting partner. "Looked for a whole week and a half. No leads, no anything. She's just gone."

"Damn," Dean commented, feeling the same. Where'd that girl drop off the face of the planet to? Maybe they'd never know. Despite himself, he worried about her, witch or not. She'd proven to be different than he thought. And he wondered about her more often than he'd ever admit. He pushed it out of his mind and remembered himself. "Well, good to see you anyway," he said, and looked at Alex carefully—she didn't look any worse for the wear—in fact, she was pretty bright-eyed and bushy tailed for the middle of the night. "You doing all right?"

She had a cute little smirk pop up onto her face. "Better than you two," she said, looking over at Sam briefly then back to Dean. "Whose ass do I need to kick? Who tied you guys up?"

Dean wished it were a laughing matter. "Meg."

Alex's playful act immediately dropped in favor of shock. "Meg?" Anger and slight fear rippled through her face. "What the hell was she doing here?"

Dean sent a dark glance his brother's way. "Wanted to know where Crowley was."

Alex glanced at Sam too, her eyebrows twisting in towards each other as she got more and more confused, suspicious, and uncertain. "And you guys would know that how?"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," Dean replied then gestured toward their brother with a choppy hand. "But Sam here had the brilliant idea to work with Meg to get to Crowley." The reminder to self made him see red all over again, especially when Sam just stood there looking so fine about everything.

"Work with Meg?" Alex repeated, sounding just as insulted by the idea as Dean felt. Thank god, Dean thought. Someone agrees with me. Alex looked at Sam with no shortage of righteous anger and growing disgust. "You wanna work with a demon again?" She copped an attitude in a millisecond flat. "What, you didn't learn your lesson the first time?"

"We're working with a demon now," Sam replied, not seeming to see the big deal, only seeming to dislike the verbal attacks.

"No, you're working for one," Alex corrected vehemently.

"What's the difference?" Sam challenged. His tone was businesslike and cold. "I wanna screw over Crowley point blank, end of story." Nonplussed at the looks his siblings were giving him, Sam shrugged him mouth downward briefly. "Meg can do things we can't. All we need to do is figure out where Crowley is and then let Meg do her worst." He brushed past them, walking up toward the front of the house.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing and went after Sam without hesitation, his sister on his heels. "She killed Ellen and Jo," he said loudly, trying to jog some kind of response from Sam. "She ripped Pastor Jim apart, she killed more innocent people than we could probably count!"

Sam stopped near the front door and turned around, seeming annoyed at Dean's comment. "I know. But you can't look at this emotionally, Dean."

"You're the one without emotions here, Sam!" Dean fired back, getting incensed—he had been there, he'd seen Jo laying there suffering and dying and scared and now Sam just wanted to be best buddies with the demon who'd done that!?

Sam shrugged. "Like it or not, we need her."

"The hell we do!" Dean shot back. "That little bitch is gonna screw us over so fast—"

"Of course, which is why we'll screw her first," Sam said, finally getting a little riled up—but only because Dean and Alex didn't agree with him, apparently. "Meg and her little posse are dead the second we're done with them."

His twin, who had been listening beside Dean with a cynical expression on her face, balked. "Are you nuts? They'll kill us the second they get Crowley's location out of us, if we can even find it."

"They won't try a thing," Sam said, regulated and calm again, calculating. The slightest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "'Cause we're bringing insurance."

"What insurance?" Alex demanded, getting more and more dumbfounded by the second.

Sam looked between both of his siblings, his eyes unreadable and distant. "I'll go get it. Gimme five minutes." He turned around and let the door slam behind him as he strode outside into the night.

Alex stared at the shut door, seeming both astounded and disappointed at the same time. "Damn Dean," she commented, all she could say about her twin currently. "Working with Meg?" she mulled out loud, trying to understand. "Of his own free will?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "He's a real piece of work these days… but maybe he's right. Maybe this is the only real option we got left." He tightened his jaw and glanced toward where he'd dumped his stuff off earlier in the dilapidated kitchen. "I need a drink." He walked across creaky floor and dug around for his flask, glancing up at his sister who followed with distracted airs—arms crossed, head turned to look out the dusty window to watch whatever Sam was doing. Honestly, Dean felt so pissed that if Sam wandered off and never reappeared, he wouldn't care. Of course you'd care. That's your brother. Get it together. Dean took a deep breath, let it out, then took a shot of whiskey from the flask. Better. That was a little better.

Contemplating his sister who he hadn't really talked to much lately—he'd been so busy catching monsters that he'd mostly texted her just to basically say hi, still alive—he wondered how she really was right now during all of this. He got this weird feeling that she was acting okay for his benefit. Wasn't that his job? Being the one who acted like everything was fine so no one fell apart? Damn if life wasn't upside-down-backwards these days. Dean scrubbed a hand down his face wearily—he couldn't find where the problems ended. All he wanted was the light at the end of the tunnel—was that too much to ask?

Changing the conversation topic (because the subject of Sam was one he didn't even want to think about currently), Dean moved to a subject he was only marginally more okay about. "So." He took another sip from the flask, let the burn set in as he hissed slightly. "How's your boyfriend these days?" He tried to act only half interested, but he was paying close attention to her reaction. His question seemed to startle her slightly and knock her onto shaky ground.

Alex sent him a quick little hooded glance. She tried to look inscrutable but Dean could see right through her: she was sad. "I… dunno how he is," she said uncertainly, her voice hollow. "Haven't heard from him in three weeks."

Few things made Dean Winchester feel worse than seeing his sister so clearly upset and sad. "What, he can't send a freakin' text message?" It was both a joke and an honest question, but the joke part fell flat the second he asked it.

She looked miserable: eyes downcast, mouth sort of pursed in conflict, eyebrows faintly pressed in together. She tried to sound unbothered by it, which was the saddest part. "He's just got so much going on."

Dean felt his heart go out to her and he was both angry with Cas and angry with himself at the same time. Come on, Cas. Isn't one of us constantly letting her down and being absent enough? Empathizing with his sister who was obviously tired of the present situation and very lonely too, Dean offered his flask—she probably needed it just as much as he did. She eyed it for a second then accepted and took a drink, handing it back as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "Guess it doesn't help that your brothers are off in the great wide world while you sit around and twiddle your thumbs, huh?" Dean asked, feeling bad about having to abandon her for all these months. She said nothing, just put a little cynical smile on and visibly pushed away her more sad feelings. "Hey wait, you said you went on a hunt last week or something," Dean said, suddenly on a different mental train track. "With who, with Bobby?"

"Uh, no, with Garth again," Alex said, and the beginnings of a real smile played on her lips as she remembered something that amused her. "Remember I told you about him and that crazy ass cupid job I worked?" How could Dean forget? This Garth dude sounded like a walking joke. "Well, he called me a couple weeks back and said he was onto some kind of monster in the woods and he needed my help." She chuckled at that point, rueful as she shook her head and looked down. "Turns out the monster was just bears having really noisy sex…"

Dean was so surprised and amused that he almost spat out the whiskey he'd been taking a sip of. "…Smokey the bear was getting it on in the woods and this Garth guy thought it was a big bad?" He asked, eyebrows high as a grin widened his face. I'll be damned. "That's not a hunt, Al, that's animal planet gold!"

"I know," she said, and Alex was back to being outwardly fine again, her tone fond. "He's… very different. And sweet, I dunno." She laughed soft and rueful. "Anyway, thought I went out there for no reason after it became clear that it was bears, not banshees. But then we realized one of the museums in town was haunted right before I was about to split. Your standard research-salt-burn thing."

Dean was still chortling about the animal thing. "Bears having sex," he said, shaking his head. That was hilarious. Alex rolled her eyes at him even as she tried to hide a smile. She knew full well that his sense of humor was grade school.

"Hey—share," Alex said, making a give it to me motion with her hand as she indicated the flask. He handed it over, still chuckling.

---

Outside

While Dean and Alex were inside and talking about bears and hunts, Sam walked out into the open road in front of the abandoned house. It was empty and no cars were in sight—just a few empty fields around, an old wooden fence rambling along the edge of the road. The night air was warm and muggy. Sam looked upwards, letting out a breath of air—this better work. If they didn't have this quote-unquote insurance, his little scheme probably wouldn't work.

This was a great opportunity—Dean and Alex couldn't convince him otherwise. An 'in' with Meg to get them to Crowley was the shortcut to the all-important soul Sam supposedly needed. It was funny though—without a soul Sam didn't need sleep, was a better hunter than he ever had been before, and enjoyed life more than he had in the past. It was because emotions didn't hinder him anymore. He was free and powerful because nothing had real hold over him, not really. Still, apparently this soul was important. Be that as it may, he was fed up with waiting for the damn thing and didn't agree with Dean's slow, subservient method of obtaining it. Now it was time for Sam to do things his way: Smart, subtle, cunning.

Dean and Alex wouldn't like what he'd meant by 'insurance' but Sam couldn't have cared less. "Castiel, we need you," he said, squeezing his eyes shut in case that's what made a prayer legitimate. "It's important." He cracked open an eye—nothing, no one. No Cas. Impatience made cold anger flare, the only thing Sam ever really felt anymore besides apathy. Come on, you winged asshole. If we don't have you, this plan is a bust. Sam thought for all of one second about the quickest way to get Cas to appear and then smiled, laughing softly to himself. Too easy. Why hadn't he thought of it before now? He knew what would make the angel come running. He put on a voice of concern and urgency and looked upwards again. "Cas, it's Alex. She's sick man, real bad, probably dying, I don't know if—"

"Where is she, Sam?" Sam turned around halfway through his sentence to see Cas standing there with a stupid worried look on his face. The angel was approaching Sam with alarm. "What's happened to her?"

Sam felt himself smiling. "Wow, Cas," he marveled, pretty pleased at how quick that worked and how gullible Cas was and therefore easy to manipulate. "You are whipped."

Castiel didn't even seem to hear him. He was looking around then he spotted the Impala and the Mustang and looked at Sam in deeper panic. "Where is your sister?" he demanded, looking like he might grab Sam and shake him in a second. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, idiot," Sam said through a cold smile. "I was lying to get you here."

Cas's face fell in confusion as he clearly struggled to understand what Sam had just told him. "So… she's not hurt?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Sam thought Castiel should feel stupid for allowing himself to be that easily emotional over anything, let alone her. "No."

The angel's face darkened and tightened, becoming hostile when he realized Sam had fooled him. He turned and walked off a couple steps. "…I'm mid-battle, Sam—why did you trick me into coming to you?"

Sam's eyes narrowed into slits—like he cared. "First of all, I could give a rat's ass about your little pissing match with Raphael," he said brusquely, setting the record straight.

Cas turned back to face Sam and looked almost surprised, and then increasingly offended. He was going to refuse Sam's demands, and Sam could already tell. "Listen to me, Sam—" the angel started in a voice like gravel.

"No, you listen!" Sam demanded angrily, because he was over this angel's shit, his loyalty to Alex in contrast to his silence when Sam had called him all those times before during the prior year. "I don't care what you're dealing with up in Heaven—you owe me and it's time to pay up. We need your help finding Crowley." Sam looked at the angel in no uncertain terms, letting his gaze be expectant and almost threatening.

Castiel looked taken aback. "Crowley?" His jaw tightened and he shook his head, recomposed himself, then became gruff again. "Sam, I can't just leave the battlefields to—"

Sam cut him off again. "Listen, if you don't help us, I will hunt you down and kill you," he promised, holding Cas's gaze in his own threateningly.

Cas's expression became almost amused and he came closer, undaunted by Sam's height and words. "Will you, boy?" A challenge. "How?"

Sam felt himself smiling again. How stupid was this angel? "Really, Cas?" He asked quietly. "I know you. I know your weak spot." He knew precisely how to hurt and control and frighten this angel and it made Sam feel superior and amused.

"Meaning what?" Castiel asked, eyes narrowing further. Sam smirked all the more at Cas's confusion.

"…Meaning can you really watch her twenty-four-seven, Cas?"

Cas definitely got it that time, and Sam realized maybe he'd gone too far with the threat when he was abruptly grabbed and thrown like a sack of potatoes into the wooden fence lining the road there. Even as Sam was hitting the ground and groaning, Cas was in his face again, grabbing him by the front of the jacket. "If you ever threaten your sister's life again I will obliterate you," Castiel snarled, his face inches from Sam's. He seemed livid as his eyes bored into Sam's and his voice lowered to a low growl. "I should put you back into the ground, Sam Winchester." Cas let go with a harsh shove and stood over Sam, who held a hand against the side of his face where there was a good cut and some blood.

"So then why don't you?"

Cas looked down at him with a strange expression almost like self-loathing. His anger lessened and became more akin to depression. "Because of a ridiculous notion which I believe you call hope." Cas's jaw squared and he looked away for a moment, contemplating something before he told Sam lowly: "Get up."

Sam did, then dusted off his hands and tempted fate. "So are you gonna help us or not?"

Cas's features twisted foully. "If you think that calling me here by lying and then subsequently threatening your sister's life would persuade me to—" he suddenly stopped, looking over Sam's shoulder and toward the house like he abruptly saw someone or something he hadn't expected to see.

Sam followed his gaze and he saw nothing there—just an old dark cabin with a sagging roof. "What?" he asked, looking back at Cas. Was the guy seeing things?

"Your sister is here with you?" Castiel asked in confusion and surprise, still staring at the same place.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Could Cas see through walls or something?

Cas did not reply. Instead, he walked forward a few steps and kept looking at the same spot—his facial features almost suggested he were speaking with someone silently, but there was no one there in the place where Cas stared. And then Cas shook his head no and seemed to indicate that his imaginary friend should leave. Sam watched, mystified. This guy was cuckoo for coco puffs.

The angel turned back to Sam and he was stern. "I'll help you as best as I can," he said grudgingly. Well, good. "But only because of who you are to Alex and Dean, and only because she is here," Cas said, like that would get some sort of reaction out of Sam.

The hunter scoffed, because he didn't care why. "Yeah whatever, come on."

---

Alex handed the flask back over to Dean—he was sitting in a slouch on a discarded plastic milk crate and she was sitting on an old coffee table across from him, leaning over her knees as she and her brother waited on Sam.

"Yeah so then I told Garth to—" she stopped mid-sentence when the front door opened and she saw who entered.

She shot to her feet as her heart jumped through her chest in surprise. Castiel! Their eyes met briefly and she hurt and healed all at once—what was he doing here? She remained frozen and didn't go to him, because something seemed off to her immediately. Sam followed him in and Alex stared at Cas, dumbstruck, realizing what Sam had done. "Cas is your 'insurance'?" she blurted incredulously, looking at her twin in utter shock and immediate disapproval. "Sam…"

"I don't wanna hear it, Alex," her twin snapped, testily holding a finger up to silence her.

"Hey, watch your tone, Sam," Dean corrected roughly, voice ringing with brotherly authority. He paused, noticing at the same time as Alex how there was some blood on the side of Sam's head. "What happened to you?"

Sam cleared his throat, eyes dodgy. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Tripped and fell."

Dean paused, clearly not fully believing that. He decided to give his brother the benefit of the doubt, and instead looked at Castiel. "You wanna clean him up, Cas?"

Surprisingly, Cas did not take Dean's suggestion. "He'll live," he replied, two words that were said in a deep voice that sounded extremely grouchy. Alex looked at him questioningly. What was wrong? Cas looked upset about something. What had Sam said to him? Or maybe Castiel was upset that she wasn't at Bobby's. Or maybe things were going more badly than before for him upstairs. He didn't look hopeful and that worried her, bringing a thousand questions to mind.

"O…kay," Dean said slowly in response to Cas's refusal to heal Sam. He looked at Sam for explanation. "How'd you talk Cas into showing up, anyway?"

"Asked nicely," Sam answered glibly.

Dean looked between the two of them for a second. "Well, chivalry isn't dead," he said, adopting an uninspired and sarcastic joking tone.

Cas dodged Alex's concerned gaze and looked at Dean instead. "Someone please explain to me what is going on and what you hope to gain with my presence."

Dean, still very staunchly resistant to the idea, looked at his brother insolently for a second. "We need help finding Crowley's evil lair."

Cas's eyes crimped just a little in what looked like suspicion. "For what purpose?"

"We've got a friend in low places who's gonna force him to give my soul back," Sam said. "We're tired of working for a demon. So it ends now."

Still hesitant (and understandably so), Cas looked at Sam. "And what is it you would have me do in this plan of yours?"

"Help us find him," Sam said plainly.

"And tag-team with us to make sure Meg doesn't pull a fast one," Dean put in.

"Meg?" Cas seemed shocked. "Meg the demon?"

Dean was mildly embarrassed. "Yeah, I know."

"She's gonna see if she can rip my soul back out of Crowley's talons for me," Sam said with a shrug. "It's worth a shot."

Cas looked at Alex again and she could see that he was wondering why she was there and perhaps even mildly hurt, assuming she'd gone behind his back or something to rejoin her brothers. His eyes fell away and his jaw flexed. "This is not a prudent plan," he said in dark thoughtfulness.

Sam was just a touch amused. "Kinda past the time of prudence, Cas."

The smallest instance of anger showed and Cas's sharp eyes darted to Sam. "Crowley is very dangerous."

"Yup," Sam replied apathetically. "We get that."

"If you 'got that' you wouldn't be attempting this," Cas replied accusingly. "I know that you three have a tendency to be reckless, but this is shocking even to me." His gaze glanced upon Alex then left her again.

"Look." Dean wet his lips, exhaling heavily. He had the look of a man who had exhausted himself and his options. "We just want his soul back. I hate it too, Cas, but I mean… I'm tired of working for Crowley, man. And maybe this'll work."

Cas took a pause—and what none of the Winchesters could know was that inwardly, the angel was realizing that he didn't need to continue to argue against this plan of theirs. After all, he could pretend to try and locate Crowley and then lie and say he was unable. If he continued to argue to no end, they might see through him and suspect how he was attempting to hide things and cover over his own deceptions. So Castiel took care to appear properly grudging and not look his wife in the eye as he let a barefaced lie come forth from his lips. "I'll see if I can find his location." He paused, lamenting the way he had become and the things he had to do to keep his plans on track. "I'll be right back. I need a few things."

He disappeared for all of three seconds and reappeared in the middle of the old living room, right across from Alex, who jumped slightly. He had an arm full of stuff that he set down onto the coffee table—candles, a couple metal bowls, some assorted herbs and elements. He dumped it all down onto the coffee table without grace and looked at it all with a grim expression. "Do you have a map of the continental United States?" Alex almost felt like he were avoiding looking at her.

"Sammy?" Dean prompted. They had a bunch of roadmaps in the car and Sam was already on the way to get them.

"Yeah, be right back," he said, already heading out the door to go get the map from the car.

Cas was setting the big, squat candles that had fallen over upright and Alex did it without a second thought: began to help Cas right the candles—the two of them were on different sides of the coffee table and when she began to help him, he paused, looking up across at her with an unreadable expression. She paused too, candle in hand. For a second their gaze held and she wondered what emotion or pain that was resting in his darkish eyes. He reminded her of Dean: near a breaking point and struggling not to crumble underneath all the weight he so clearly carried. Stress and worry made her heart clench tight.

Dean cleared his throat at their tense silence and intense stare. He then jerked a thumb over his shoulder, muttered something about needing to get something from somewhere and then he backed off, sending a couple suspicious glances back at them as he went into another room of the house and shockingly, kindly gave them a moment. Alex was a little surprised at that, but wasn't gonna question it. She looked at Cas with poorly concealed worry. "Hi."

Cas's gaze faltered away from Alex's almost guiltily and he looked like he were searching for the right thing to say. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you," he said in a weighted tone. "I've been trapped in battle without ceasing."

There was a lot of heartbreaking sadness and regret and worry in his voice—and the way he was clearly ashamed could have easily let the current inexplicable tenseness continue between them, but Alex refused to accept that. It had been too long since she'd seen him and when the next minute together was never a guarantee, she couldn't afford to err on the side of caution. She loved him, she missed him, she understood—and maybe he needed reminding of that. Wordlessly, Alex set the last candle upright with a loud clunk then rounded the coffee table, barreled into him and slipped her arms around his middle, hugging him fiercely, letting her face turn in towards him so that her forehead molded to the curve of his neck and shoulder. He was stiff against her for a second as if surprised, then he exhaled a breath and became pliable, receptive. He let his arms circle her, let his hand cup the back of her head to hold her to him in a way that silently attested to the fact that he missed her, too.

When at last she drew back, he was looking at her with a vexed expression that she found utterly troubling. Close together in the darkness of the abandoned house, he touched a hand to the edge of her face, brushing some strands of hair away from her cheek. His whisper-soft touch sent warmth fluttering over her like embers.

"Why are you with your brothers?" he asked in quiet concern, and Alex looked down a little, hearing how he did not approve of it. She understood his worry because of the whole soulless Sam thing, but these were her brothers. And it was only a visit… she didn't plan to stay on the road with them. Not unless maybe she changed her mind…

She tried to deflect and make light of it. "Thought it was time to catch up with the family."

Cas only looked further agonized. "Alex… it's not safe for you to be near Sam right now." He sounded absolutely sure about that and Alex immediately felt put off—she didn't want that to be true.

"Oh come on, Cas," she said wearily, pulling away to herself frustration—she kept getting told it wasn't safe, that she couldn't come along to this, that, and the other and she was really getting tired of it. This had been too much of her life. "You don't know that for sure." In her mind, she had rose-colored memories of the things Sam had done a few months ago. And she wasn't made out of glass. She'd lived a tough life and had earned her stripes. She could take the hits and risks and pains that came with hunting.

Castiel's expression was grim—he opened his mouth slightly to say something then changed his mind, drew in a breath, then heaved that breath back out. He sounded as exhausted and as over it as she felt. He glanced toward toward the sound of Dean's pacing footsteps just beyond where they could see. "How long have you been with them?" he asked quietly, looking at her intently for the answer.

Mild annoyance flared—she knew he was just worried but damn. She answered, but sounded irritated when she did. "Fifteen minutes." His jaw worked in slight thought and Alex just knew he was wondering how he could talk her into going back to Bobby's. But she wasn't ready to go—especially not if they were about to go up against Crowley. Dean and Sam would need all the extra help they could get and she wasn't going to let any of them shelve her—not even Cas. But, at the look of mild hurt and confusion in his eyes, she corrected her tone and spoke with more measure. "Cas," she explained more gently, "this is my family. I can only stay on the bench for so long. And this, what we're doing right now is about Sam's soul—something I have a lot of responsibility for—so I'm not going anywhere. Sorry."

He listened to her with a face full of resistance. When she said sorry, a surprising and defeated little smile appeared on his lips and he looked down, shaking his head ever so slightly. Castiel let out another breath, resigning himself. His eyes were chagrined and soft when they came up to hers again. "I find your stubbornness to be both frustrating and endearing." Alex felt pleasant surprise at his grudging acceptance and almost affectionate reaction to her insistence. She had to wonder if he were being agreeable because he was there with her where he could have eyes on Sam, though. He might change his tune if he got called back to Heaven and had to leave…

Speaking of, Sam re-entered the house with a rolled up map in hand. "Found it," he said, handing it over to Cas, who accepted the map and looked it over.

"Thank you."

Dean poked his head back in and casually re-entered the room, eyeing Alex and Cas curiously in turn. He watched as Cas spread the map out onto the table and began to sort the candles over it in a pattern then mix ingredients in the two metal bowls he'd brought. "How's that findy thingy comin', Cas?"

"I need matches," Cas said, distracted.

Dean dug into a pocket then held up a matchbook from a random motel. "These work?"

Cas's eyes darted up and he took them. "Yes." He lit the candles then said some words in Enochian, glancing at the Winchesters in an almost nervous way as they stood back and watched. Alex thought he seemed more afraid of Crowley than what made sense. Cas dropped a lit match into one of the metal bowls and the contents flared red-hot. Cas looked down at the map with a pinched expression, then up at them. He shook his head no. "It's not working. Crowley's hidden from me."

Dean nodded, pursed his lips in thought, looked down. "Well, looks like we're gonna have to try this the hard way."

"What's the hard way?" Castiel asked, expression darkening.

"Poking our noses where they don't belong," Dean said. "Samuel works for the S.O.B., right? We go see if he's got any clues laying around that little office of his."

Cas looked resistant. "It's only like thirty minutes from here but… you mind, Cas?" Dean asked.

There was a dark consideration in Cas's face. Then he conceded even though he didn't seem thrilled about it. "Let me check first to see if he's in there," Castiel disappeared. He reappeared two seconds later, looking unhappy. "His office is empty."

Dean was pulling out flashlights and tossing them—one for Sam, one for Alex. He held one out with a questioning glance to Cas, who gave him a look that seemed to say come on Dean. Angel, remember?

"All right, Scooby Gang," Dean said. "Let's go."

---

After Cas zapped them over to Samuel's dark and deserted office, the four of them set to work searching quietly for any clue as to Crowley's whereabouts. In the moonlit dimness, their flashlight beams criss-crossed and swept over the small space. Cas rifled through some loose papers set onto the desk, as Alex crouched in front of a filing cabinet and looked through the bottom-most drawer. Nearby, Sam searched through the bookshelf as Dean pulled every drawer in the room open and poked through the contents.

Sam paused, finding something odd in between two books. He picked it up and held it up into the light of his flashlight: it was a single strand of long, golden hair. He didn't remember anyone in the compound having long blonde hair… huh. Maybe Samuel had a hooker in here or something. He flicked the hair away, disinterested. He sauntered over to his sister and pointed his flashlight down at her. Looked like she was finishing going through the contents of the file cabinet. "Found anything?"

She squinted up into the beam of his flashlight, clearly annoyed at the bright light. "No. I mean, what file am I even looking for?" She stood and kicked the file cabinet shut. "'The King of Hell's secret monster stash'? I doubt Samuel's stupid enough to keep Crowley's locale on paper." Sam smirked, returning to the bookshelf.

Alex went to Cas's side, her shoulder brushing his as she held up her flashlight to look at what he was rifling through. A stack of papers. "What are these?"

"Maps," he replied, looking down and sidelong at her. "I'm not sure what the markings indicate." They were state maps printed off onto paper and there were circled cities and areas in each state.

"Maybe where granddaddy's found monsters before?" Alex guessed, looking back up at Cas. The moonlight outside lit his face a soft silver and she shivered slightly, forgetting what they were doing there. His eyes never seemed to stop astounding her. That, and the way they looked at her. The darkness and their closeness made her think of the attic, and the attic made her think of him and her doing naughty things…

A flashlight beam suddenly swept up to illuminate Cas and Alex. It was Dean, and he was annoyed. That's when the lights all came on. Everyone turned in surprise.

Samuel stood there with a raised pistol in hand—he'd slipped in from a second entrance to the office. Mild surprise showed when he saw who they were, then darkness clouded his features. He lowered the gun. "Can I help you?" he asked sarcastically, his eyes darting over all of them in turn. "What do you want?"

Well, crap. Busted. Dean stepped to him, clearly deciding to be straight up about why they were there. "We wanna know where Crowley is."

Samuel's eyes narrowed coldly in suspicion. "…Even if I knew, why would I tell you?"

Alex scoffed. Please. "You know where Crowley is," she declared. Samuel only glanced at her inscrutably.

"Samuel, I'm gonna get my soul back," Sam said, explaining the reason behind their questions.

"Who says you can get it back?" Samuel asked, looking confused at the idea of that.

Sam's response was immediate: "Me."

Sighing heavily and shaking his head, Samuel looked down. "Look, I'd like to help, but I'm sorry."

Dean's mouth twitched. "It's your grandson's soul."

Samuel's eyes snapped up and his voice raised. "I can't."

Anger was starting to light Dean up. "What is wrong with you? What, do you wanna work for Crowley? You like being a bitch boy to the King of Hell?" Samuel's face was hard to read and when he continued to be silent, Dean turned and glanced at the angel standing beside his sister. "Cas, can you give the family a minute?" Cas nodded, met Alex's glance, then disappeared from her side. Dean was approaching Samuel and trying real hard to be calm and reasonable. "Look. We're your blood. If you don't wanna help us I can't make you. But I just gotta know why. What is Crowley holding over you? You owe us that."

Guilty, Samuel dodged their glances and bent over his desk then pulled a photograph out of a drawer, holding it out to Dean. Sam and Alex moved a little closer to see: it was a young woman with blonde hair that Alex instantly recognized.

"Mom?" Dean asked, staring at the photo in soft shock.

"He's gonna give her back to me." Samuel's heavy statement rendered the room silent for a short beat.

"What, Crowley said he'd, he'd bring her back from the dead?" Alex asked in disbelief.

Samuel looked at Dean and Alex in turn. "You two tell me you don't want her back."

Dean could seem to find no words but Alex blinked a couple times, stunned. "Like this?" she shook her head, deeply troubled. "Doesn't seem right."

"Sometimes right is just a point of view," Samuel said in a tight voice. He looked angry and his eyes flickered between Dean and Alex alike. "You know, the one difference between us: you know how to live without her."

Alex looked down, guilty. She didn't remember Mom and yeah, she did know how to live without her. Had to know how.

"Look, I know how you feel," Dean said, attempting to smooth things over.

"No, you don't," Samuel said, great sadness in his old features. He got slightly choked up. "She's my daughter and she's dead, and I can do something about it." His sadness gave way to anger there at the end.

"You really think Crowley is gonna make good here?" Dean challenged.

"He brought Sam back!" Samuel snapped. "And me!"

"Yeah, to use you to find Purgatory," Alex said, her voice rising to match his. She was mystified. "How stupid are you? He'll turn on you the second he's gotten what he wanted from you." Dean looked at Alex sidelong, obviously feeling like she was lobbing that accusation at him, too. Which, honestly, maybe she sort of was.

Samuel was stone-faced. "Well that's just a chance I have to take."

"Trust me, don't go down that road," Dean warned, full of cynicism and chagrin. "Quit while you're ahead, man. It's gonna go nowhere good." Dean got almost pleading in his appeal at that point. "Samuel, I know we've had our differences, but I'm your grandson and I'm telling you that this is wrong for so many reasons."

Samuel almost sneered. "You hypocrite."

"I'm asking you to learn from our mistakes!" Dean protested loudly, voice wavering with angry conviction and Alex heard every guilt he carried over the things he'd done and deals he'd made to protect his family, including what he was doing now. "Doing this, this is how the bad guy gets us every time! It's our Achilles' heel. Apparently it runs in the family!" Slightly out of breath from his rant Dean relented for a second, then tried to extend a peace offering Samuel's way. "We will figure something else out. Okay?"

Samuel was shaking his head. In what seemed like a pretty desperate attempt, he looked at his granddaughter. "Tell me you don't want your mother back, Alex," he said steadily and appealingly, using her nickname and not her formal name for the first time he ever had. "You tell me you're really okay with letting this opportunity fly in the wind."

Surprised he would put her on the spot like that, Alex's eyebrows rose slightly. It was a useless appeal—Alex wasn't on board with him at all—but it did make her feel pretty shitty to have to say it out loud. That she chose her brother over her mother. "She's not here," she said quietly. "Sam is."

"Unbelievable," Samuel assessed quietly, shaking his head and looking down his nose at Alex with mild disgust.

Dean tried again. "Come on, Samuel. Please."

Samuel shook his head, refusing with finality. "I'm sorry Dean, but—"

"Fine," Dean snapped, turning his back on Samuel and pacing off a few steps, growing sharp and cold in his fury. "You bring her back." He turned around, standing beside his sister now. "But what are you gonna tell her? You gonna tell her you made a deal with a demon?" Dean's voice raised several decibels. "That you wouldn't help out her sons and her daughter?!"

"That's enough!" Samuel bellowed, reaching a breaking point. He jabbed an accusing finger at Dean. "I'm not the only one around here making deals with demons and you'd be wise to remember that, Dean!" He breathed heavily even as Dean withered slightly. Samuel shook his head, backed off a little, threw his hands up, silently saying he was done. "Just get out."

Dean contemplated him for a second longer then gave up on the endeavor and walked toward the office door. He paused briefly at the door and looked back to try one last time. "You change your mind, we're staying at one-thirteen Old Oak over in Flint," he said, and gave his grandfather an earnest look. "Think about this, Samuel. Please."

---

Castiel took the Winchesters back to the abandoned house when Dean summoned him back. When they returned there, the three siblings debated how was best to find Crowley and Castiel remained quiet and gave no answers or advice unless he was asked outright. He feigned total ignorance and inability to help as, simultaneously, guilt made him feel heavy and weary. Dean and Alex set to work marking up maps and trying to figure out if there were patterns to where Crowley had gotten the Winchesters to deliver monsters to before. Sam was on his laptop and Castiel wasn't sure what for.

The house the Winchesters were squatting in had electricity still and as such, Dean switched on the outdated television set, telling Cas to sit down and watch it and quit distracting Alex. Cas hadn't meant to distract her… he'd only stood there and watched her without ceasing and she'd looked and looked at him again and again as she and Dean worked on their maps. Dean apparently got tired of it and told Cas to sit down in the old armchair across from the TV and 'veg out,' whatever that meant.

Even as the television droned on, Cas found it uninspiring and watched Alex instead. She was sitting at the nearby table with a map spread out in front of her. A red marker hovered in her hand and an old lamp illuminated her face, which was currently tight in thoughtful concentration. Dean was next to her, and next to Dean was Sam. They were all deeply focused in their quest to find Crowley. Cas felt another twinge of guilt as he thought of how he was willingly keeping the truth from them. He knew exactly where Crowley was. Someday he would explain everything to them and they would understand the dilemma he had faced, the price paid to keep everyone safe and the apocalypse from being restarted. But until then, none of them could know. Not even her. It made for a lonely and dark feeling and he wanted to be forthcoming with her especially, but it wasn't a choice at this time. He had to bear the burden alone: the burden of knowing he was the one who was responsible for Sam being soulless and the Winchester family being torn apart. Castiel was afraid he would never be forgiven for this if he couldn't find a way to fix it. How could he fix it? Even if he could somehow get Sam's soul back from the cage, it would be a beaten pulp.

This was truly all his fault and he mourned for his reckless decision last year. He thought he could bring Sam back to his whole self and that notion had been foolish, proud, and thoughtless. Thinking of it pained him and alarmed him, because his choices always seemed to backfire or self-destruct. And no one else bore responsibility for his actions except himself. What a great and terrible burden. His eyes drifted to Alex again from Sam.

Alex glanced up at that moment, eyes latching onto his and he felt a rush of guilt and love all at once. Especially when her mouth curved upwards slightly to one side in a secretive little smile just for him. Would she smile that way if she knew what he was keeping from her? He didn't know. She looked a little sad, a little bittersweet and he wished for quiet and solitude with her, time together that wouldn't abruptly come to a jarring end, time in which he could seek comfort and be comforted in return. She helped him forget everything, even himself. She looked at him like he was wise and trustworthy, two things he wasn't sure if he were at all.

At that moment, she did the strangest thing. Flicked her gaze to her left twice, fast. Did she want him to look that way? He saw nothing there and felt himself squinting in confusion. She did it again, trying to tell him something.

She stood up at that moment. "I'm gonna hit the woodline," she announced. Cas then understood. She was going to go outside and she wanted him to come see her there discreetly. Even as he understood her furtive little glances, Dean unwittingly sabotaged it.

"No need, milady," Dean said in a joking, cavalier tone, shifting some papers around. When Alex looked at him questioningly, he gestured vaguely with the hand holding paper. "The house's on well water. Bathroom's back there. Go crazy." He returned to studying the papers he held and Alex had a look of annoyance on her face. She looked at Cas sidelong, shrugged a little and shook her head, seemed to give up on the little plan. Alex muttered she'd be right back and her booted footsteps clomped heavily even as she disappeared through the doorway to the hallway. Cas listened to the fading sound and watched the place where he'd last seen her for a moment, then looked down at the plastic thing Dean had given him earlier.

This was called a remote and could apparently change what was on the television screen. The volume was very low, almost too low to hear, but Castiel had sharper senses than the humans did. Currently a black-and-white show was playing and a woman was drunkenly shouting about "vita-meata-vegamin!" Cas pressed the channel-changing button Dean had shown him. The image changed to color. A different woman smiled as she stirred a pot of food on the stove and said something about adding oregano for the best flavor. She began to chop some vegetables with a sharp knife and talk about cutting techniques. Cas pushed the button to find something else. Now a gazelle was shown running through a field as a man's disembodied voice said "…some are able to run at bursts as high as sixty miles per hour…" Cas pushed the button again and halted. Music that sounded lazy and sultry and overly-edited played as a man carrying a pizza box spoke to a very blonde woman in a bathrobe.

"Oh, but I didn't order sausage," she giggled, leaning against the doorway into a house.

"Maybe not, but that's what I'm delivering, baby," the pizza man said, looking at the woman in a strange, wolfish way. "Can I… come in?"

"I mean the kids are asleep and babysitting is boring so why not?" she asked, sounded stilted and unnatural. She was smiling in a way that seemed inviting. Castiel noticed her face was overly painted and she had eyelashes that looked too black and thick to be real. "Come on in big boy," the woman purred.

The pizzaman abruptly tossed the pizza box aside and took hold of the babysitter passionately, kissing her with a hugely open mouth and lots of very breathy sounds. "Uh, yeah," he kept saying as the babysitter wasted no time in touching him and helping him undress. So they were lovers, this pizza man and babysitter. Castiel frowned, intrigued, because he had never witnessed sex in his human vessel before… only participated in it. He recognized that the encounter on the screen was heading that way and fast. The pizza man proceeded to tear the babysitter's robe off and then pulled off his own clothes—Castiel gaped at the woman's hairless body—was she deformed? Perhaps a strange disorder. She had hair on her head after all…

The pizza man sat the naked babysitter on a kitchen counter and spread her legs then used his hand to give her pleasure as he touched his own sexual organ in concert. Castiel was dumbstruck. You could do that? The woman keened, obviously reaching the height of pleasure as she screeched about how she was 'coming'—which Castiel understood to mean reaching climax and release. She jerked and arched and cursed quite a bit and then went slack.

Cas was surprised when the pizza man abruptly took the babysitter and threw her onto a couch and then began to make love to her so hard that their skin slapped—then the pizza man moved the babysitter's bent legs up very high so that her knees were almost touching her ears and Cas's head tilted to the side. Another thing he had never thought to do—what was the purpose of it? The woman was very loud and the man was grunting and saying things about his 'cock'—things such as "do you like it? Do you want it?" But Castiel saw no chicken anywhere and saw no reason that the babysitter would like or want some imaginary bird. However she expressed eagerness about it and said yeah every time he asked her about this chicken. The woman said something about what he was doing to her feline and Castiel was mystified all over again. There was no cat anywhere to be seen.

Cas was very surprised when the woman began to orgasm again. So soon? That was possible? Apparently yes. She was throwing her head back and talking about it in between repeated gasps of "Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" Castiel found this woman's reaction to pleasure to be unappealing. He thought of Alex, who he had seen in the throes of absolute impassioned ecstasy. She was incomparable and beautiful to him that way, so impossible to describe, so perfect in the moment of release. This woman seemed false somehow, as if she were trying to make a show of it. Cas's eyes narrowed as he watched the lovers continue to mate. It was strange—their copulation seemed very passionate but something was missing, however, he could not say what.

Cas was once again confounded: The pizza man turned the babysitter around and took her from behind as she stayed on all fours, panting and moaning loudly. Cas frowned—but the pizza man couldn't see his beloved babysitter's face or kiss her like that, could he? In fact, the pizza man stood on his knees as he continued to thrust into the babysitter, and the distance between them struck Castiel as being strange. Wasn't the purpose of lovemaking to be close to the person with whom you were copulating with? The babysitter began to yowl about how she was coming again and Castiel was beside himself. Again? "It's very… complex," he said aloud, amazed at how many times the pizzaman was bringing this woman to ecstasy. His passion and love for her must be very great. In fact, watching them engaging in sexual relations was making Castiel, well... slightly aroused.

Dean barely glanced up. "Mm-hmm."

The pizza man began to slap the babysitter's rear over and over again and she cried out in little in protests like she was either enjoying it or given slight pain by it. Surprised, Castiel watched a moment longer, trying to understand. "If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?" He then realized it may be some form of punishment. "Perhaps she's done something wrong." At that moment, the pizza man began to tell the babysitter she'd been a very bad girl. Cas wondered what she had done, even as he realized Dean and Sam were both looking at him with odd expressions.

"What the hell, Cas?!" Dean asked. "You're watching porn?"

The pizza man slapped the babysitter's rear so hard that it began to turn red on one cheek. "He shouldn't slap her that hard," Cas said in mild worry, focused on the screen and wondering why the babysitter seemed to like it.

"Okay, first of all: You don't watch porn in a room full of dudes," Dean said. "And second, you're don't talk about it. Just turn it off."

Cas just stared as yet again the woman began to scream yet again about how she was coming. Really, it seemed quite a feat and Cas thought of Alex. Could he do this same thing to her? He would like that very much if he could, and the thought seemed hot to the touch in his mind, warming him all over in a single flush. It had been a long time—or it felt like it had been a very long time—since they had been together that way. He was very desirous of her and it struck him suddenly as the pizza man and babysitter continually moaned and groaned and carried on in the throes of pleasure.

Cas wanted Alex so intensely all the sudden and he looked over the top of the television in the direction she'd walked a few moments ago. The last two times they'd attempted to be intimate it had fallen flat and had left him physically frustrated, and the frustration came surging back anew. He couldn't think of anything else. Unbidden he was imagining a barrage of images: her naked beneath him and flushed with pleasure, breathless in bliss, eyes dark and full and adoring of him. He could imagine her hot, sweat-damp skin pressed to his; he could conjure in his mind the beautiful sounds she'd make and the honeyed sweetness in her voice as she would breathe his name like a prayer… Cas suddenly frowned, looked down at himself, realizing he was fully aroused.

"Well, now he's got a boner," Dean commented in an exasperated mumble from over at the table.

There was a knock at the door and Sam and Dean both rose to answer it. Cas continued to stare at the place he'd last seen Alex. He heard Samuel speaking at the doorway but was so distracted that he couldn't bring himself to care—Sam and Dean could deal with whatever that man wanted. Cas stood up and moved himself out of the room and to the back of the house in the span of a second, looking for Alex, thinking about nothing else but the kiss of her mouth and the touch of her hands.

---

In the back of the house, Alex sat against the bathroom sink with folded arms as she waited unhappily. She checked her watch impatiently, again, giving herself a couple more minutes in here for appearance's sake. She didn't even have to use the bathroom, she'd just been trying to get Cas one-on-one away from Sam and Dean.

Alex scrubbed her hand against her face. This was a crazy night to say the least. All she'd wanted to do was pop in on her bros and see how it was going, maybe stay with them a few days, possibly help out with a hunt or something… and now she was caught up in this crazy Crowley scheme that turned her stomach. Not only was that a surprise but Cas was nearby which was killing her slowly. The last three weeks had been torture and now Cas was here again yet being so quiet and standoffish. It was sort of depressing… he didn't seem happy to see her, he seemed distracted and guilt-ridden. Not exactly the reunion she'd been imagining and envisioning for the past three weeks. It's not all about you, stop being like that. He's stressed and under a lot of pressure and his world doesn't revolve around you.

Still, she was disappointed after having spent the past three weeks imagining a passionate reunion: him showing up maybe in the middle of the night, waking her up and drawing her into his arms, kissing her with fire and touching her without hesitation, reassuring her that he hadn't forgotten her, that he wouldn't leave, that he knew how difficult this was for her and that he was going to make it up to her in every way he knew how. Those are the things she dreamt of both waking and sleeping. Stupid? Maybe. Unrealistic? Yeah.

Alex huffed and straightened, turning around to look in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and she made a face at herself then raked a hand through the unmanageable mane—it did nothing, really, and she vaguely wondered how come all those chicks in magazines got long shiny pretty hair while she was stuck with this wavy disaster. She glanced at her watch again and figured that was long enough. She was too impatient to wait any longer anyway. Sighing tiredly, she opened the bathroom door—and was grabbed as soon as she did.

Cas had apparently been waiting for her. He took her by total surprise: invading her space and sweeping her up into his arms before she could even halfway react. He manhandled her like no one's business: he turned them, pushing her back into the dark room beside the bathroom and without so much as a word, he let his mouth crash against hers with blazing passion. He pressing into her fervently, a hand raking through her hair as his other hand demanded she press into him, too. Her back hit against the wall as he drowned her completely in his kiss. Holy crap! Alex was stunned for a few seconds, floundering underneath him—what had gotten into him?! He was kissing her like he was starved for her. Heat surged through Alex as he demanded she surrender to his deeply searching kiss. Quickly becoming pliable in his arms to his fervent touches, she let his mouth ravish hers because she was starving too and becoming just as impassioned as he was—she took his face in her hands and let out a soft sound as she returned the kiss with growing urgency and all of the conviction she'd saved up all this time apart. She'd misjudged him—he was glad to see her and had missed her just as much as she'd missed him. He was clearly just as anxious for her as she was for him. And then her eyes flew open as she gasped. Holy shit!

His hand had descended down to grab her between her legs over her jeans. "Cas—!" she gasped in a strained whisper, shocked at how he was rubbing so knowingly. "What are you—ah—doing?!"

He looked at her straight in the eye, sending sparks scattering through her stomach and lower too. The moonlight filtering in through the window near them made him look so damn sexy—his eyes smoldered, his expression seemed half wild. "I am desperate for the things only you know how to do to me," he breathed in a whisper that was intensely dark and thick and warm, filled with intention. He leaned close, his lips dragging at her jawline as his hand tightened on her below the belt. "Let me give you release."

Holy shit! "Right now?!" she asked in breathless flabbergast, even more shocked than before because Cas was being so uncharacteristically reckless and passionate—but it was hot and her body was winning out over her mind.

"I feel that I can't wait any longer," was his deep breathy reply against her throat. Yes, now. Holy crap, she couldn't wait either.

She shuddered in erotic surprise, a yes on the tip of her tongue but she still resisted slightly, nervously glancing at the doorway. "But my brothers—" she protested weakly. He hadn't stopped applying heavenly pressure between her legs or slowly and wetly kissing her neck and she didn't want him to stop. Her eyes fluttered closed and her eyebrows screwed together as she was turned to putty underneath his warm mouth.

"Won't hear us," he murmured huskily against her neck, and his other hand slid up to cup her breast boldly through her shirt. Her head fell back and she let out a soft desperate exhalation of air. She grabbed at his hand uselessly, half encouraging him to continue feeling her up, half moving to stop him. She lost the battle against herself and just pulled his hand against her harder then sought his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply and hungrily. Who cares. Just, who cares. I want this. He kept touching her through her jeans with brazen urgency. She slid her hand down and grabbed him by the belt then pulled him closer hard, durving her hand around to pull him against her by the ass, helping him grind against one of her thighs. He whimpered ever so softly as his hand made her weak in the knees and rendered her a slack heap against the wall. They were uncoordinated and frenzied in the way they pushed against each other in that dark back room. Beautiful heat built and built, Alex was making soft and breathy noises—mm's and ah's and nrgh's and Cas broke their kiss. "Shh…" he reminded, and she heard the honey-like pleasure dripping in his voice, pleasure that was there because he was making her feel so good.

"Cas—" she whispered against his lips in breathless admiring arousal—he was exhilarating, like a high from another planet altogether.

He abruptly took her face in his free hand, holding her gaze intensely—his thumb was at the corner of her mouth and his eyebrows suddenly drew in together, making him look like he was very worried. "Say that you know I love you," he beseeched softly, and it sounded like he was begging her, like he was afraid.

Immediately feeling that something was wrong for him to say that, she froze, her expression beginning to mirror his. "Yes… of course I know that…" she replied slowly, confused. His worried dissipated and his face again filled with desire and passion and before she could question him further, he kissed her again, clenching his hand into her hair in a manner that seemed possessive and demanding in the best of ways—and whatever questions or doubts had plagued him were forgotten by them both. He pushed her shirt up, grabbing and thumbing her breast through her bra even as their mouths clashed thoughtlessly—a soft little moan sounded in the base of his throat—that sound was her siren's call, her ultimate bliss. His hand snaked around her middle and around to her back underneath her shirt and he pulled her close, his warm hand splayed against the curve of her spine—his other hand continued torturing and gratifying her between the thighs, picking up in intensity, like he couldn't stand the wait and was determined to get her off and now.

Oh my god, to be wanted with such obvious desperation, to be touched so frantically… Alex was high on bliss and exhilaration and mounting pleasure. This was so dirty and thrilling, so dangerous, and so much better than every fantasy she'd imagined during their separation. She moved her hand down to sneak in between their bodies and stroke him below the belt. He groaned lowly without meaning to, pushed into her hand with a little urgent sound, maybe tried to one-up her with what he did next: He roughly shoved his hand down into her jeans and made her stupor of ecstasy that much more insane when his fingers slid down and both soothed and stirred the ache he'd given her, then went down further and thrust into her deep.

She shuddered in astonished gratification, mouth gone slack against his even as he made a little sound of arousal and moved his other hand to grip her behind the head, make her look him in the eye—it was like he wanted to see what he did to her, read her emotions and feelings in the mirror of her eyes. His face was full of expectant and tense adoration, of heated fascination as his eyes briefly flickered between hers and then traversed her face. Seeming satisfied with what he saw there, he pulled her face to his and crushed his mouth to hers, kissed her searchingly and bruising.

So caught up in their more raunchy activities, Cas and Alex didn't hear that they the soft footsteps or realize that they had an audience.

"Hey hey hey!"

Jarred, they pulled apart, startled and caught. Dean was standing there in the doorway with an utterly shocked, traumatized look on his face. His voice had risen several pitches into a high, tight voice and it broke like a teenage boy's voice would. "What the hell!?" he demanded, aghast and fumbling royally. He was turning red and gaping with the oddest, most uncomfortable expression ever. Cas and Alex were embarrassingly out of breath and Dean withered. "Y-you two pick right now to… to… that?" he asked in that strange, high voice. "Really?! Ugh!"

"…Uh…" Cas managed, looking at Alex with a sort of nervous, embarrassed expression. She glanced back at him, at a loss for words and actions—all she felt now was the most intense embarrassment she'd ever felt in her whole life, ever.

Dean's shocked embarrassment morphed into anger and he held a hand up to block his vision even as he turned away. "Pull your shirt down!" His voice was much higher than normal.

Alex was red for real and yanking her shirt down back over her torso even as Cas became quite sheepish. "Dean—" Alex started, flustered but soldiering through.

Dean was totally squeamish about her in that moment and shook his head no. "Just don't say a damn thing," he said tersely and then stepped aside, motioned for her to walk through the door and hustle, too—he looked down at the floor haggardly having to make himself stay calm. "Go, go," he said, face twisted like he'd eaten something sour.

She said nothing and stalked through the door in a huff. Cas watched her go and then his eyes wavered underneath Dean's glare. "Dean…" the angel began.

"Nope," Dean said, mouth in a thin line. "No. Not a damn word, Cas."

Cas hesitated and frowned more deeply, opened his mouth slightly to speak anyway. Dean held a finger up, daring Cas to go ahead and say something. Showing himself to be wise, Cas closed his mouth and said nothing. Disgusted and scarred for life, Dean had to walk out. Not what he had expected or wanted to see, holy crap. What the hell! He went up the dark hallway toward the front of the house, jamming a hard through his hair with caged energy. He had never been so embarrassed in his whole life.

Sam popped into the top of the hallway suddenly, close to the front door. He jerked a thumb toward it, oblivious to or ignoring Dean's disturbed demeanor. "Meg's outside."

"Oh well good for her!" Dean exclaimed, brushing past his brother harshly.

Sam surveyed his brother with faint puzzlement. "…What's got your g-string in a knot?"

"Everything!" Dean bellowed, stalking into the living room—where Cas stood with Alex. Dean came up short.

"Working with Meg is a bad idea, Dean," Cas said sternly. Alex avoided Dean's gaze, and instead rubbed the back of her neck.

"How did you…?" Dean began. For a minute, he forgot that Cas could just poof place to place like a damn Star Trek character.

Cas was of a one-track mind: Meg. "She's not trustworthy," he insisted, walking forward to Dean adamantly. "Her kind is an abomination."

"Oh now you're all holier-than-thou, huh," Dean accused, disgusted and still way mortified. "Weren't you the one watching porn a minute ago?!"

Alex's head tilted sideways and she looked at Cas with a funny little expression on her face as she came forward, too. "You were what?" she sounded faintly amused.

Cas's eyes narrowed slightly and he looked at Dean questioningly, then at Alex. "We're… not supposed to talk about it," he said in that deep rumbling voice Dean hated.

"Yeah so he decided to go back there and make a porno instead!" Dean shouted at no one in particular. Of all things, Alex suddenly got a look on her face that could only be described as almost pleased, like she was beginning to think that her brother's reaction was funny. Indignant, Dean looked at Cas, that smug bastard.

"Never mind Dean," Sam said, seeming to find something darkly amusing as he sauntered into the room from where he'd been observing at the doorway. "Cas, Alex: Samuel just showed up and gave us the location to Crowley's compound."

"Seriously? Huh, wow, old man came through," Alex commented in faint surprise and mild admiration.

However, Castiel's expression went cold with thunderstruck shock. "He what?"

"Yeah," Dean retorted, cutting a sharp glance in the angel's direction. "Happy freakin' birthday to us."

"What made Samuel change his mind?" Alex asked intently, seeming to be past her embarrassment for the time being. She was instead halfway suspicious.

"Said it was what Mom would have wanted," Dean said, reluctant to look at her fully. He wasn't past his embarrassment. Alex looked a little surprised and then guilty about the Mom mention then said nothing else.

"Yeah, so let's go see about telling Meg how it's gonna be," Sam said, focused on the task at hand and already heading to the door.

"Are we sure we really need her?" Alex asked, uncertainty gathering. "I mean, this is Meg we're talking about. It's a bad idea. Cas, couldn't you get Crowley to spit Sam's soul up?"

Cas was silent and heavy, his gaze downcast and filled with avoidance. "No. I don't think I could."

Dean didn't want to discuss it anymore—it was time to just do this stupid thing. He grabbed Cas by the shoulder of the coat and manhandled him toward the door, grumbling the whole way, wanting some distance between the two hormone-ridden lovebirds. "Come on, Rico Suave." It was one thing to know your sister and an angel were screwing, but what he'd seen a minute ago brought Dean to a whole level of realization about how real that fact was: Cas and Alex were fucking. Bigtime. The weirdest and most disturbing thing to Dean was how Cas (awkward, cardboard, normally-clueless Cas) really looked like knew what he was doing back there when he had Alex against the wall. Gross.

Outside the old house, Meg and her posse waited—four demons stood there in total, and Meg's smirking demeanor lit up when she saw the hunters and the angel coming down the creaking wooden stairs to her. Her eyes first went to Alex and she copped a flirty attitude. "Well if it isn't the prettiest Winchester," she drawled, looking Alex over with a lazy floating gaze. "It's been a little while. And look, you brought your sexy little boy toy…" her eyes flickered over to Cas and she looked him up and down appreciatively, got a bitchy expression and stony silence from Alex. One of Meg's eyebrows twitched as that shit-eating smirk widened—she seemed to enjoy Alex's reaction. "What, not gonna talk to me? My feelings are hurt." Her eyes went back to Cas and her voice lowered into a deeper purr. "So, remember me? I sure remember you, Clarence…"

Cas looked absolutely reviled by her. "Remind me why we are working with these detestable hellions," he muttered, glancing sidelong at Dean.

"Keep talking dirty," Meg encouraged, her smile growing and her voice lowering. "Makes my meatsuit all dewy." She bit her lip, eyed him inappropriately even as Alex scowled at the comment. "You are a naughty boy, aren't you?" Meg asked, seeming to enjoy Cas's look of disapproval.

"Yeah you don't know the half of it," Dean muttered, butting in and refocusing the stupid conversation. "Look. We know where Crowley is."

"Great, do tell," Meg said, focusing on him now without enthusiasm.

"Yeah, tell you, so you can just leave us for dead," Sam said.

"You all have serious abandonment issues, you know that?" Meg replied sarcastically.

Alex scoffed. "So can you get through a sentence without being a stupid bitch or no?"

Meg smiled like she were pleasantly surprised. "Aw, look who can hold a grudge just like the rest of her wittle family," she baby-talked then shrugged her eyebrows up once. "Pretty cute when you're angry, Ariel…"

Ariel? There was no explanation for the nickname. Sam was impatient. "Cut the crap, you two," he said, then addressed Meg firmly. "We'll show you where Crowley is, alright? But we're all going together."

Meg's eyebrows went in slightly and she looked over the Winchesters and angel in amused skepticism. "What, I'm just supposed to trust you?"

The bald-headed demon beside her glared daggers at Sam, murder clearly on the mind. Sam met the gaze with a hard one of his own. "No, you're not that stupid." Sam's eyes drifted low to where Meg had the demon blade tucked into her jeans—the stolen demon blade. "Give me the knife for a minute," he said.

Meg's eyebrows rose fractionally. "No, I'm not that stupid," she retorted.

Sam's face and voice were both deadly. "Do you want us to take you to Crowley or not?" he challenged. "The knife."

Meg's little smile faltered then fell completely. She eyed Sam threateningly and didn't take her gaze off him for a second—she whipped the knife up, warning him silently with her dark eyes, then handed it over, seeming to feel pretty annoyed about having to do what he asked. Sam took the knife and looked it over mildly—then without warning lunged at the bald-headed demon beside Meg, killing him before anyone had finished reacting to the sudden flurry of movement. Sam whirled and held the knife out toward the other demons who had gone into defensive. "You saw him," Sam seethed, daring any of them to challenge him. His eyes were a little wild. "He was more interested in killing us than getting the job done. I just did all of us a favor." Dean and Cas had both instinctively stepped to shield Alex when Sam had attacked the demons, and they looked at each other, irked when they bumped shoulders.

None of the remaining demons said anything or made any further moves. Sam backed up two steps and turned. "Hey!" Meg said, confidence wavering. "You just gonna keep that?"

Sam turned back, anger making his nostrils flare. "You took this from us," he said, yanking the knife up to show it to her. The demon blood on it glistened wetly. "I'm taking it back." He glanced sidelong at his family and Cas. "We leave in thirty minutes." He turned his back on them and strode back toward the house.

Meg gave a tight, annoyed smile. "Fine. Smoke if you got 'em. See if I ever lend you anything ever again, Sammy." She gave Cas and then Alex suggestive looks then sent a little pursed-lips look at Dean. "See you kids soon." The demons disappeared without anything further leaving Dean, Cas, and Alex in the cricket-chorus filled night.

"Well." Alex sounded irritated. "This should be fun." The door to the house slammed as Sam went inside. She looked like she was going to argue some more about this plan, but Cas, who was staring off into the distance with a strange, gaunt expression, spoke before she could.

"I have to, uh, speak with my lieutenant for a moment in Heaven," he said, glanced at Alex, then looked at Dean. "Do not leave your sister alone with Sam, Dean."

"Wha—" Dean started to ask, but Cas disappeared without any further explanation. Scoffing and crossing his arms, Dean glared. "Fine then." He looked at his sister, who looked as suddenly uncomfortable as he was. Wordlessly, Dean proceeded to ignore her out of embarrassment and went to the Impala, yanked the trunk open, and began to dig around in there aimlessly.

---

Evergreen, Missouri

Castiel did not need to speak to Rachel or go to Heaven… what he had just said to Dean had been a total lie.

He left the abandoned house and went directly to Crowley's prison—his heart was hammering uneasily, affected by his thoughts. Panic was setting in at what was happening and how out of control things were on the verge of spiraling into. He found the demon in the old lunchroom of the prison. Castiel was immediately set at even greater unease.

Broken tables were all pushed against one side of the cafeteria and decrepit baby cribs dotted the dim, trashed space—at least ten of them. Blood was splattered everywhere and there wasn't a sound to be heard. Crowley stood over a silent crib and looked up at Cas's arrival. The King of Hell wore his white apron and it was bloodstained. In his hand at his side a machete glinted. A sinister little smile curled the demon's lips upwards as his eyes lazily drifted over Castiel.

"Ah, Cas," he greeted, rounding the crib with a pleasant attitude in his posture and expression. "What brings your little feathered rump to see me today?"

"You know what," Cas said in a low voice, looking around at the carnage darkly. He was ashamed and horrified all over again to be associating with this demon, sickened that he had aligned himself with this abomination—yet he had was in too deep to turn back. Bracing himself against self-loathing, Cas warned Crowley even though he wanted nothing more than to kill him. "Samuel Campbell just gave away your location to the Winchesters and Meg."

"Yes," Crowley replied breezily, sauntering forward a bit as he wiped off one side of the bloody machete on his apron. He wasn't surprised in the least at Cas's news, which mystified him even further. "I know. Samuel told me."

Cas withered internally at what that meant. The Winchesters' own grandfather was betraying them? Leading them into a trap? "I'm making finger foods for their visit," Crowley continued offhandedly. He paused in his steps, pretending to be thoughtful. "Maybe some mimosas. Veal too I think…" he smiled darkly, suggestively, letting his eyes drift to a crib. "Baby shifters are so tender and juicy."

Cas's jaw tightened and hatred coursed through his veins. He would end this demon once and for all when he had the power of the Purgatory souls. But right now he needed to know what this villain had planned for the people he viewed as his family. "What are you planning, Crowley?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"

Crowley chuckled and set the machete down on a small stainless steel table nearby. "The boys have done good by me, brought me loads of monsters. But they're getting quite impatient and as you and I both know, and I can't deliver what they're working for. Sam's soul is hanging out in the wind. They find that out on their own, I'm as good as dead. Not what I'm aiming for. But, it's all right. I've got Samuel under my thumb and his little crew, too. They'll keep getting me my monsters. So—while I've enjoyed the ride—it's time to take care of the Winchesters before they become a problem."

"What are you saying?" Castiel growled, not liking the way this sounded.

"Allow me to quote a cinematic classic: it's a trap!" Crowley seemed vastly amused at himself then annoyed when Castiel only glared. "Oh get your wings out of your ass, will you? I'm not going to kill them, I'm going to trick them. For your sake, too, Cas, not mine. If it were up to me, I'd just kill them. Listen. This is how we do what I like to call a bit of classic misdirection."

Already frustrated and impatient, Castiel approached Crowley more closely and let his voice bear a tone of threatening command as he demanded true explanation. "Speak plain."

Crowley sighed gustily then began to pace around Cas in a slow circle as he gestured calmly with a hand here and there. "The Winchesters and the gang come here with your guidance and help… and then oh dear me, Samuel sends you blasting away—without their angel, the three stooges are captured by me and must fight for escape—an escape I'll allow them to make. They catch me unawares after said escape and confront me and demand whatever they will, I say no, they trap me and what have you, think they have me where they want me… then I regain the upper hand, you appear and save the day and kill me." At Cas's look of really? Crowley gave him a look. "Not really, Cas."

He snapped his fingers and he suddenly held an old, large burlap sack in his hand. "What is in that?" Castiel asked suspiciously.

"My bones," Crowley replied, a wicked smile playing on his face. "My stand in bones, which you will set on fire as they watch." His smile grew wider, cruel, conniving. "And the crowd… goes… wild. Crowley's dead, Winchester's get off my ass to kiss yours. Win, win, win."

Castiel's temper flared. "You're asking me to lie to their faces."

Crowley looked up, seemingly in contemplative thought. "Um… yes." He chuckled. "What seems to be the problem?" That maddening, scheming smirk remained plastered across the demon's face. "Look, Mr. Morality. I told you this would take total commitment. And really, what's one more lie to add to the heap you've made so far, hm?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, whose guilt tripled. What a tangled web he was weaving. Crowley was right, but Castiel didn't want to admit it. In order to maintain the deception, he had to continue to deceive. But he didn't want to, and he couldn't continue it much longer—he was trapped and alone and afraid of the consequences of his lies. "Come on, Cas," Crowley coaxed at the angel's silence. "Don't be such a prude. You know what's at stake here." The demon's eyes glinted suggestively as his voice deepened a little—his eyes flitted over Cas's shoulders and chest briefly. "Can smell her sweet little scent all over that trench coat of yours… now, are you going to follow through or not?"

Fists clenched at his side, Castiel gritted his teeth tighter. "It would seem that I have no choice," he muttered, wondering if there had been some way other than this one, some solution he'd overlooked. Anything would be better than working in partnership with this evil demon.

"Ever the dramatic, aren't you?" Crowley asked, clearly pleased with himself. "Now, listen, Cas. It has to be good, our little mid-season finale. We need to sell this." He looked at Cas meaningfully and when Castiel realized what he meant—that in order for the Winchesters to believe the ruse they would be put in danger and perhaps even hurt.

Castiel bristled. "If you hurt her Crowley—if you hurt any of them—"

"Relax, Cas," Crowley said, rolling his eyes. "I will hair nary a hair on their precious little heads."

So said the demon who had just ruthlessly slaughtered a nursery full of shifter babies.

---

Flint, Michigan

Inside the dark house, Dean shuffled around sort of aimlessly, checking his watch. Cas had been gone for sixteen minutes. Better hurry up and get your ass back here man. What would happen if Cas bailed? They had one demon knife and Alex's angel blade against Crowley, Meg, and all the other mooks in between… as much as Dean was loathe to admit it, they needed Cas on this one. Handsy, horny Cas who apparently enjoyed watching porn and having ill-timed sexual encounters.

"Hello Dean," came a sudden deep voice right behind him. Dean jumped and whirled. Cas was a few feet off with that familiar constipated expression on his face.

"Geez, Cas! Almost gave me a heart attack," Dean complained, looking Cas over with a quickly-returning scowl. "Where'd you go?"

"Matters concerning the war needed my attention," Cas said heavily, looking around with eyes narrowed into slits. "Where are Sam and Alex?"

Dean paced over to the kitchen counter and looked through the guns he had laid out there, selecting a shotgun. "He's in the bathroom, she's outside reorganizing the arsenal or something, I dunno." Cas went to the window to verify what Dean had said and watched Alex closely, expression softening as his eyes drifted over her openly. Dean glanced out and saw how she was bent far over as she reached for something far into the trunk—the way she was bent made her butt stick out prominently, and Cas seemed to be looking at said butt.

Dean gaped at the angel. "…Really Cas? Are you… checking her out?" He asked, mortified and slightly indignant. If it had been anyone other than Alex that Cas was gawking at Dean would have been proud. But that was his sister getting the moon-eyes from Cas. Dean felt incredibly uncomfortable and slammed the guns into his weapons bag harder than necessary. "Killing' me here, Cas," he muttered.

Cas looked away from the window and studied Dean for a second. Chagrin and mild, shared embarrassment drifted between them. "I'm sorry Dean, about what you saw me doing with your sister earlier," Cas said after a moment, eyes avoiding Dean's. "I know it upset you."

"Your existence upsets me," Dean retorted thoughtlessly, sarcastic. Cas took him seriously though and it showed as hurt flashed across the angel's face. Dean regretted his choice of words, or at least the effect they had on the poor guy. Yeah, Dean was forever parked on the fence about Cas and Alex, but aside from that, he thought the guy was decent overall. Dean felt bad and swallowed his pride and grudgingly apologized even though he didn't want to. "Sorry. Didn't really mean that." He felt so much discomfort as he broached the reason why he was acting weird: "I'm just not supposed to see stuff like what I saw back there, okay? It's gross."

Mild confusion showed on Cas's features. "I don't find it gross."

A short, derisive laugh escaped a very cynical Dean. "Obviously not."

Cas sighed, looking out the window. He seemed wistful, almost dreamy. "Your sister's body…" he began.

"Hey, whoa, no!" Dean protested adamantly, flustered. Cas looked unsure about why Dean had cut him off and Dean, grim and a hundred percent done, held out a lecturing finger. "Cas… here's the quick four-one-one," he said, trying to stay even-toned. It didn't really work. "You do not tell a guy how his sister turns you on unless you wanna get punched in the face!"

Cas, as usual, looked like he had never heard such a thing but he did seem to understand that he'd said the wrong thing at least. He was obviously trying to process it even as he spoke. "My apologies," he said, chastened. "I don't always know the right things to say."

Dean snorted. "Really."

The other guy's frown deepened. "Yes, r—" he stopped short, understanding. "Sarcasm," he observed, seeming a little pleased with himself.

Dean suppressed an eye roll. "Someone get the kid a prize."

Again Cas seemed to understand the sarcasm, but this time he was mildly hurt by it. "I was only trying to apologize if what I did was offensive to you." He sounded like his feelings were hurt.

Dean glanced Cas's way. How did Cas always do that? Make Dean feel like he owed him an apology or explanation? "Yeah thanks," he mumbled.

Cas watched him a moment more, expression hard to read. Maybe sad. What, did the guy wanna be best friends for life or something? Dean didn't know about that—he was still trying to get used to Cas being Alex's boyfriend or whatever. Letting it go and trying to move past the chick flick stuff, Dean went back to the counter and checked his pistol for ammo again. Cas looked out the window for a brief moment. "Dean, can I ask you something?" he asked presently, appearing very anxious and serious.

"You're gonna anyway," Dean pointed out, then turned and looked at Cas, waiting. Seemed like it was going to be a serious, important question.

Castiel's expression was grim and he posed his deadly serious question to Dean: "What is the significance of a chicken during sexual intercourse?"

Dean's eyes squinted in confusion. "…What?!"

"The pizza man kept asking the babysitter if she liked his cock but I saw no rooster anywhere and I'm very puzzled," Cas explained in utter severe sincerity. "And then the babysitter kept saying things about her pussy, but there was no cat to be seen. Why did she keep talking about this feline to the pizza man?"

"Okay, stop stop stop." Dean held a hand out, grimacing and a little cynically amused despite himself. Of all the things he had thought he'd be doing today, explaining sex slang to an angel was not one of them. "Those words are slang, Cas. For… you know. Man and woman parts."

Cas looked suspicious of that answer. "Surely penis and vagina are more fitting and universally understandable."

Dean's face went slack in exasperation. "Please stop. Please just stop." He shook his head, making an ungraceful comment. "Sex with you must be like having sex with the dictionary."

"I wouldn't know," Cas answered automatically, taking Dean seriously, trying to be helpful. "Ask your sister."

Dean's face fell further… are you kidding me? He muttered "oh my god" under his breath, imagining strangling Cas for that unwitting comment. Cas hadn't meant it smugly or anything but Dean's big brother hackles were definitely raised. He shook his head and turned his back on Cas, trying to refocus himself. "Remind me to sign you up for sex ed sometime soon," he muttered unhappily, because Dean did not want to be the one forced to listen to all the awkward and mortifying things Cas wanted to know or talk about concerning this subject.

Cas sounded skeptical. "Who is Sex Ed? A friend of yours?"

At the point of face-palming, Dean wondered if he was allowed to just give up on life right then and there. "Just forget it, Casanova," he muttered and grabbed the old tin they used to make salt lines, checking the contents broodingly. It was full to the top of salt and he closed it then turned to the kitchen table where his bag was and set it in there with the rest of the stuff. "You know, Cas, you could help," he said crankily. Instead of standing there and talking about my sister's body and asking TMI sex questions.

Cas made no move to help, only hesitated. "Dean… I'm ambivalent about what we're attempting," he said, as if this were a big secret he was revealing.

Dean looked at him for a second. "Well, breaking into monster Gitmo is not exactly a two-for-one in the champagne room," he said, brushing it off.

There was a weighted silence on Cas's part. "Allow me to be honest," he said, his expression becoming deeply vexed. "I'm not sure retrieving Sam's soul is wise."

Dean stopped what he was doing. "Wait, what?" He abandoned his task completely and rounded the table, demanding explanation in mounting trepidation. Cas looked like he knew something Dean didn't. "Why?"

Again there was a lengthy, heavy silence in which Cas looked down, his features working in harrowed thought. "Sam's soul has been locked in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for more than a year," he said, looking at Dean fully. The unhidden worry on the angel's face grew as he spoke to Dean in soft, earnest trepidation. "And they have nothing to do but take their frustrations out on him down there. You understand? If we try to force that mutilated thing down Sam's gullet, we have no idea what will happen. It could be catastrophic."

Dean swallowed away the sick feeling, unwilling to let his true horror at this thought show: "You mean he dies."

"I mean he doesn't," Cas replied immediately. "Paralysis—insanity—psychic pain so profound that he's locked inside himself for the rest of his life."

No. Those things couldn't happen. Not to Sammy. Dean struggled to understand. "…Why's this the first you're telling me about this?" he asked Castiel with an almost hurt tone to his voice. "Y-you couldn't have mentioned this before?"

Guilt flashed across Cas's face. "I didn't want to lessen your hope and…" his voice softened. "Your sister, she's…" Cas looked down and Dean watched the angel's face in rapt distress. "As we both know she believes this is ultimately her fault, Sam being like this. Because of what happened with Lucifer. I only thought that if she could have hope for the future things would be better. I… didn't want her to know she may never see the Sam she knew before." Dark things filled Cas's downcast eyes. "It would devastate her."

Dean was fully taken aback. At the care and worry and insight Cas showed, in the foresight, in the fact that Alex had apparently confided one of her deepest pains to the guy. At the fact that Cas thought Sam might never be himself again. Dean refused to accept that last part. "Look… I get you're worried about his soul," Dean said, fighting small panic. "But he's strong. He's a fighter. I went through Hell and hey, I made it just fine."

Cas frowned, eyes coming up to Dean's intensely. "Both you and I know that is far from the truth, Dean." A simple sentence that whacked Dean over the head, rendering him unable to make reply. "And you weren't locked in a cage with Lucifer, the devil himself," Cas continued. Each thing he said made Dean more worried and alarmed. "I have concern over this," Cas continued. "Valid concern. The more time that Sam's soul is in the cage, the less chance for survival."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?" Dean asked, getting frantic inside. "I gotta get him outta there, Cas!"

"Dean…" Cas started, sounding like he was breaking bad news. Like he thought it was a lost cause.

"You're saying you don't know anything for sure," Dean cut him off, needing some hope here, a little ray of light to grasp onto. "I mean, he could be fine."

"He could be, yes..." Cas conceded inscrutably.

"Okay then," Dean said with finality. "Let's bank on that."

Cas however didn't let Dean have the final word. "I sincerely doubt he will be fine, Dean."

Getting mad for any and every reason, Dean's voice tightened. "Well, if he's not fine, then you fix him."

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Cas replied, contrite but seeming to accept that this was the final verdict: Sam either soulless forever or a crippled, slobbering mess. No other solution.

"Then you figure it out, Cas!" Dean thundered intensely, stepping into Cas's space, trying to get a response. "If not for me, then for Alex at least, right?" Despair and fear were making his voice shaky. "Come on, I mean, Sam's a frigging replicant. He needs his soul and I need my brother and if I can't get him back…" he trailed off, thinking about that. Life without Sammy. Dean couldn't even begin to even fathom that and he sure as hell hadn't spent these past three months trying to get Sam back only to lose him. "Look, we get it back," he reiterated firmly, voice wavering with desperation. "And if there are complications, then we will figure out a way to deal with those, too, okay?" He looked at Cas in a way that suggested you better not argue with me again.

Cas sighed softly, shoulders sagging as he looked down. "Of course." Dean was a little surprised at the grudging agreement from the angel. But he wasn't gonna press his luck. The angel was on board, that was all that mattered. Dean turned around to head back to his packing. And then Cas spoke again. "Or we fail, and Sam suffers horrifically."

Dean paused, bad attitude making him scoff and huff as he turned around and leveled Cas with a pinched, accusing look. "You sound like you don't even want him to have it back."

"Of course I do," Cas said, mildly indignant before becoming somber and reflective. "The way he is now is wrong and cannot continue. We both know that, Dean." Again, Dean was surprised at Cas, who had a penchant for being wise and intuitive in unexpected moments. Just like now. Cas considered something, wondering whether or not to share it with Dean. "He threatened Alex just today," he said quietly, seeming to be filled with antipathy and conflict over it. "Sam would never have done that before."

"He what? He threatened her?" Dean asked intensely, approaching Cas again with a dangerous tone. "Threatened her how?"

"He said that if I would not help you find Crowley, he would kill her," Cas replied, looking at Dean with a silent question in his eyes: Can we let him live if he keeps making threats like that?

Dean was beside himself, unable to believe it. His heart felt ripped. Betrayal of every kind came over him. "He said that?"

Heavy footsteps sounded, and speak of the devil, Sam came out of hiding—he'd been just out of sight for apparently the whole time. "I wasn't serious," he said, blunt and apathetic. "Lighten up."

Dean saw red and snapped, barreling over to Sam and snatching him by the front of the shirt, shoving him into the wall behind him hard, making dust drift down from the force of impact. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" he demanded, enraged. "You're on real thin ice as it is—man, why am I even trying with you anymore?!" He was incensed and totally taken aback at his brother and the things he was doing these days. "That's your sister Sam!" He exclaimed, a certain note of pleading in his trembling shout.

Sam grabbed Dean's wrist hard, his face a cold mask of anger. "Get… your hands… off me," he said, low and dark, maybe about to start a fight. That was when Dean realized Cas was right behind him, backing him up, silently warning Sam not to hurt his brother or start anything. And even though he wanted to punch Sam in the face, Dean let go with a hard shove. He wasn't worth it. Sam sent a dark glance at the angel and then his brother. "Look, Dean. Titles don't matter to me," he said brusquely. "Sister, brother, uncle, cousin, whatever. I don't care. Just telling you like it is. But I won't kill her, understand? Even I know that's taking it too far. Cas, I was just trying to get a rise out of you, okay?" Sam sounded annoyed.

A rise? What, death threats were how Sam got under people's skin these days?! Death threats to their sister? Soulless or not, that was unbelievable. Cas was giving Sam a hard, baleful look. Dean suddenly realized why Sam had that blood on the side of his face and why Cas had refused to heal him earlier. Because that 'rise' had culminated in Cas apparently kicking Sam's ass. Unexpected pride welled up. Damn straight, Cas. Dean approved wholeheartedly and suddenly felt like Cas was all right by him. Still, as Dean gave his soulless brother the silent third-degree with his glare, a realization came over him. A horrible, horrible realization.

The front door opened at that moment and Alex came in, walked into the kitchen, then saw the three men standing there glaring at each other. Her expression fell into skeptical suspicion. "Hey—" she paused in slight worry. "What's going on?"

Dean looked at his brother darkly. "Go outside and wait, Sam."

Wordless but with a bad attitude, Sam complied, brushing past Alex hard, slamming the door hard behind him. Clued in to something being wrong, she looked between Cas and Dean in concern. "…Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, sticking a little smile on his face, pretending things were a whole lot finer than they were. "You wanna double check my bag?" He feigned a little grin. "You know me, space case. See if I forgot anything?"

Clearly not buying it, she looked at Cas then Dean with a deepening squinty frown. "Yeah… sure," she said, eyes flickering over them suspiciously.

As she half-heartedly did as Dean asked over at the kitchen table, Dean pulled Cas away out of earshot and leaned in super close. That horrible realization he'd had? Here it was: "Cas… if I can't get his soul back and soon…" Dean could barely bring himself to say it however whisper-soft. "I'll have to kill him."

Cas looked sorrowful. "I know Dean."

"I don't think you do," Dean protested in that same strained whisper as he looked at Alex, made sure she wasn't listening. "Cas, I can not kill Sam. I can't!"

Contemplating him with old, sad eyes, Cas took a long beat to reply. "If it comes to it, Dean… if that's the only option we have left…" Cas let out a regretful breath. "I'll do it so that you won't have to."

God. Was that supposed to be comforting? Dean didn't know but his heart was broken right now beyond repair and Cas's offer made him feel worse. Please, please let this getting-Sam's-soul-back plan work. Please. Dean looked down and shook his head, wanting to cry. This was insane. He never thought he'd see the day where he suddenly trusted Cas more than his own brother. "Don't tell her this stuff, Cas," he said, wanting to protect Alex from the pain he was feeling. "Just don't. It'd break her damn heart."

Cas had sympathy and understanding in his eyes. "I know, Dean."

Alex zipped Dean's bag closed, picked it up and clomped loudly their way, holding the bag out to Dean. "You forgot one thing."

Dean forced himself to look fine. "What's that?" he asked, accepting the bag from her.

"Your pretty pink hair-bows," she quipped, grinned, then patted him on the shoulder, seeming to sense he needed some reassurance. She was eyeing him and Cas with faintly questioning eyes as her grin faded. She definitely saw that something was amiss but she didn't ask about it. "We ready to head out?"

Dean's jaw tightened and he nodded, guessing it was time to get this shady thing done. "Yeah." He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed to the front door.

Alex and Cas stayed where they were. She was peering at him in mild concern, taking in his downcast eyes and the way he seemed so hesitant to follow after Dean. "You okay, Cas?"

His eyebrows twitched inwards as he met her gaze. "Are you sure about going along for this?" He was deeply reluctant for her to go. It showed in every facet of his expression and demeanor.

Smiling with a little ruefulness, Alex shrugged. "Come on. Do you really have to ask me that?"

Cas sighed ever so softly with resignation through his nose. "I'll take that as a yes," he said in fondly grudging affection—he touched the side of her face sweetly, sweeping a few stray hairs away from where they'd been pulled across her cheek. It looked like Cas might be about to lean in and kiss her.

"Hey, come on will ya?" At the door, Dean looked impatient and annoyed. "Hands where I can see 'em."

Annoyance came over Alex's face and she glared at her brother—then in an act of defiance seized Cas by the lapels and kissed him hard, startling him and Dean alike. She wrapped her arms tightly around Cas's neck, grabbed a handful of hair, and left Cas a little dazed when she pulled back from the kiss. Alex looked at a gaping Dean challengingly then gave a smug little whatcha gonna do about it? smile. Cas, hair sticking out where she'd grabbed it, watched her with a puppy-dog look of total rapture.

As Alex breezed past Dean, heading outside, she muttered "world's biggest cockblock," at him.

"Cock means penis," Cas volunteered proudly as he followed her dreamily—trying to impress Alex with his knowledge of slang. She turned on a dime at the door and looked at him in surprise with a slack jaw. Her expression seemed to ask did I hear you right?

Dean shook his head with a thin expression and rolled his eyes, lamenting his reality.

---

Evergreen, Missouri

An angel, some demons, and some hunters all walked into an abandoned old prison—not the beginning of a joke, either.

Cas had zapped them all over to the location Samuel gave them and then let them in through a side door with no problems at all. Alex swept her flashlight down one of the filthy old cellblock halls—this was creepy as fuck. They kept passing cells that were occupied by monsters. Some were dead, some were still alive. The prison was silent and eerie overall, with no sign of Crowley anywhere. Feeling very unsettled, Alex glanced at Cas, who was walking beside her and looking around into the darkness with a very hard, cautious look on his face. What was it about Crowley that made him so nervous? Maybe he just felt what Alex did: a very strong sense that something was not right here…

They presently came to a hall in the prison that wasn't dark like the other ones—the blue buzzing lights were on. Meg sauntered over Alex's way, nudging her shoulder in to Alex's as she stopped to turn her flashlight off. "I've heard about you and Clarence, Ariel," Meg said, grinning and wrinkling her nose up like something was cute. "Just makes my little fluffy fairytale heart so warm and sparkly!"

Alex struggled not to hit Meg over the head with the flashlight she held. "Okay, why do you keep calling me Ariel?" she asked in a strained tone.

Meg rolled her eyes as she smiled with a gaping mouth. "Girl who's hot and heavy for a guy from another species, the whole voiceless curse…? Too easy." She bit her lip, looking Cas up and down unashamedly. "So tell me, he a freak in the sheets?"

Rolling her eyes with gusto, Alex turned and walked off, pulling Cas along with her. Meg and her two stunt demons followed. Sam and Dean walked ahead, peering into doorways on either side of the hallway. And then Cas stopped abruptly. "Wait…" he said, squinting like he heard something. He looked back from where they'd come and so did everyone else, trying to see what he heard.

"What is it?" Dean asked. And that's when they all heard: dogs barking and baying.

"Dammit," Meg breathed. "Here come the guards."

Dean's face was slack. "Hellhounds," he said even as the barks came closer and closer at impossible speed. "Go!" he shouted, yanking on his sister's arm and taking off at a run with everyone else close behind. They burst through a set of double doors even as Meg's two henchmen went down and were ripped to shreds on the dirty floor. Screams echoed as Sam and Dean wedged the doors shut with a stake Alex tossed out from the weapons bag.

Quickly, Sam poured a thick line of salt across the floor in front of the doors even as a slightly out of breath Dean let Meg have a dirty look. "I knew this was a trap."

"What do you want, a cupcake?" she sneered.

"Relax, that should keep them out," Sam said, pointing at the salt line and wood jamming the doors shut. Alex peered through one of the blood-splattered windows, trying to catch sight of the invisible hellhounds—then jumped back with a gasp when the door jolted and a sharp barking noise sounded on the other side.

"Yeah right, not for long." Dean looked at Meg. "How many of them are there?"

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Lots. I'll be pulling for you… from Cleveland."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed.

Meg shrugged, smiling cooly. "I didn't know this was gonna happen. Bright side: them chewing up my meatsuit ought to buy you a few seconds. Seacrest out." Meg looked up and opened wide, preparing to desert the body she was possessing… and then nothing happened. Confusion showed on her face as she waited with a gaping mouth.

"What's the matter?" Alex asked, smirking now. "Can't get it up?"

Meg shut her mouth and looked back down, glared at Alex deeply.

"A spell, I think, from Crowley," Cas said. "Within these walls you're locked inside your body." He, too, had the faintest instance of a smirk on his lips. Meg's expression soured further.

Dean had a little smile out, too. "Karma's a bitch, bitch." Sam, deep in thought, pulled out the demon blade, looking at it intensely. "What are you doing, gonna slash at thin air until you hit something?" Dean asked his brother sarcastically.

Surprising everyone, Sam switched the blade so he was holding the sharp end—and he extended the handle to Meg. "You can see them. Take this. Hold them off. It's our best shot."

"Yeah it's our best shot," Meg said, grim. "At Crowley. Take it and go. You kill the smarmy dick. I'll hold off the dogs."

Alex scoffed. "And how the hell are you gonna—" she didn't get to finish her sentence. Meg reached over and seized Alex by the back of the head, cutting her off mid-sentence with a very unexpected open-mouthed kiss that included a lot of tongue. "Mmff!" Alex protested, pushing Meg with two hands even as her brothers and Cas stared, too taken aback to do anything. Smiling as her eyes sparkled with mirth, Meg let go of Alex, who looked like she'd just been victimized. "…what the hell, Meg?!"

"Don't pretend you didn't like it, sugar lips," Meg said, waggling Alex's angel blade at her chidingly.

Alex glared and bristled. "Give that back," she warned, really pissed. That was hers.

"Finders keepers," Meg drawled, walking backwards a little, teasing.

"Ugh, Cas, really?" Dean asked, and everyone looked to see what was… oh god.

Cas looked down at himself in puzzlement. "I don't understand. I found the sight of a demon kissing my w… woman abhorrent," he said, catching himself. "But my body seems to like it." Yeah—he had a boner to prove it, too.

"Your woman?" Dean asked, then let it go in favor of something he found more disturbing at the moment: "Ugh, Cas, no one wants to hear your personal problems! Put that thing away!"

"…Why are you staring at other guy's wangs anyway, Dean?" Sam asked, seeming to be amused. "I didn't even notice until you pointed it out." Dean gave his brother a deadly glare. Nearby, Cas attempted to conceal his state of arousal, patting his erection upwards uncertainly, muttering a comment about how unwieldy it was. Dean made a sound of utter disgust and rolled his eyes, looking away. Alex watched with a frozen look of sheer what the hell is happening?! on her face.

Meg wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Dean and Cas… now that's a sandwich I wouldn't mind being in the middle of," she purred.

"Yeah well dream on, princess," Dean retorted.

"Oh I will," she said, grinning slyly. "But not now. Gotta go." she held up Alex's blade meaningfully.

"Hey, whoa—is that even gonna work on a hellhound?" Alex asked.

Meg shrugged. "Well, we're about to find out. Run." She winked at Alex before turning around to face the doors.

---

Cas led the Winchesters into a lower part of the prison, saying he thought he could sense Crowley there. It was darker there than anywhere else and the flashlights were necessary again. "Can't see jack," Dean complained as they walked down old concrete stairs.

"Shut up," Alex hissed, because he was being too loud. At that second, blinding light suddenly erupted from Cas and there was a horrible screeching sound—when the light died, Cas was just gone.

Dean fell back slightly in surprise, clutching the handrail of the stairs. "Cas?!"

Alex however had caught a very shocking sight in the beam of her flashlight and she stared in utter betrayed fury at what she saw: Samuel. Standing beside a blood sigil. Dean saw him, too. "You?" he asked, voice soft with disbelief. "You sold us out?!" Alex was to the bottom of the stairs, ready to lay her grandfather out when she was suddenly seized by strong hands even as her brothers were, too—"Damn you, Samuel!" Dean roared, fighting against the demon who'd appeared and grabbed him from behind.

From the doorway behind Samuel, Crowley slowly sauntered. "I have to say, best purchase I've made since Dick Cheney," he commented breezily. Samuel said nothing, just stood there with a stony expression.

"Hiya, Crowley," Dean greeted, half grinning half grimacing against the hold he was in. "How's tricks?"

Crowley chuckled and pinched one of Alex's cheeks roughly, then looked at Dean challengingly. "Ask your sister." Dean looked like he was going to explode from anger as he fought the grip the demon had on him uselessly. "Oh calm down, Ape. I've been working. Big things. Alas, you'll be too dead to participate."

"Really," Dean commented lowly, insolence tightening his features.

"Shame I have to do away with you three," Crowley said. "Rather enjoyed your indentured servitude." He smirked and looked at the demon holding Alex tight. "Lock the wonder twins up together, will you?" He looked at Dean smugly. "Put Captain Rageface in his own private suite."

The demons started to drag the Winchesters away. Dean's shouts echoed through the drafty old prison. "You're a dead man, Samuel! A dead man! You hear me?!"