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.

80. Taken

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 80 / Taken

"Am I alive or just a ghost? Haunted by my sorrows.
Hope is slipping through my hands, gravity is taking hold."
- RED

---

...April 11, 2010
(Almost Two Years Ago)

In an unremarkable motel room in the mid-morning hour, a fallen angel and the woman he had secretly married the day before were lost in each other's arms. On the table nearby, the abandoned breakfast of vending machine snacks he had gotten for them a few minutes prior. Discarded at the edge of the bed, the towel she'd been wrapped in before they'd decided that breakfast would have to wait.

A moaned whisper of, "Ah, Cas—" could be heard and then a whimper of pleasure. His dark head of hair was buried in the crook of her neck as he planted breathy kisses up and down against the curve of warm skin there. He held her to himself on that bed and made love to her in a way that reduced them both to a euphoric stupor. Hair still wet from the shower she'd just taken, Alex had her eyes shut to better savor every touch and movement—one of her hands was clenched into Cas's hair and her back was arched off the unmade bed as she gasped for him to keep going, keep going.

He pressed a hard, fervent kiss against her lips then groaned out a high, distressed "ah" against her mouth, which had fallen open wide to gulp in gasping mouthfuls of air as the inevitable dam broke over them both. He murmured her name anxiously like he was having a holy experience, like he was worshiping her. To see how they held onto each other during that moment of euphoria and afterward was a visible testament to how deeply they loved and needed one another. It didn't even need saying at all but when it was all over and they were left trembling and thunderstruck, Castiel breathlessly drew back just enough to look his Alex in the eye and he told her what was already so obvious. "Heavens I love you," he whispered, touching her face and looking at her with eyes that were adoring and amazed. A soft, exhausted laugh escaped her as a smile made her bright eyes crinkle up. She craned her neck forward and kissed him lingeringly. She loved him too.

As they laid together and recovered from the exhaustion of ecstasy, Cas turned them onto their sides and held her close—she nestled her face into the firm, warm skin of his chest and rested, breathing him in as his elevated heart rate echoed through her. After a moment he gently took one of her hands into his. He seemed to be in deep, reverent thought. "How can every time be so incredible?" he asked quietly, earnestly. His voice became mildly shy. "We've… done this seven times now and somehow each time seems better than the last."

She smiled into his skin, flushing over a little because she thought so, too. "You're keeping track?" she asked teasingly.

"How could I forget?" he countered softly, stroking a hand down the side of her head. She heard the reflective smile in his voice. God… every day she was more in love with him. Hoping it would always be like this, she pulled back a little to smile at him and see his face. His hand remained at the side of her head and his eyes contemplated her with almost childlike wonder. "Before you, I would see humans engaging in coitus and I thought it seemed such a banal and repetitive activity," he said thoughtfully. The ghost of a smile tugged at his wide lips. His chin dipped down slightly and his eyes seemed knowing, coy. "Now… I see why people find it so appealing."

Smiling back too, feeling like it was a thrilling little secret that was only theirs, Alex had to agree. She'd spent so many years wondering about sex and being depressed that she didn't have it… she'd felt defective her entire life and the seemingly never-ending virgin status had only added to her stockpile of insecurities. But she would do it all over again and wait twenty-seven freakish years for Cas to come along and be the one she had that first moment with. It was so worth it and being with him was absolutely astounding in every way. He was still looking at her, but now he was getting that more serious, sappy look in his eyes. "I don't think I'll ever tire of copulating with you, no matter how many times it happens," he said softly, and it was meant to be a romantic sentiment but…

She couldn't help it—she busted out laughing at how he phrased it. After yesterday and last night and this morning she was rendered playful, uninhibited, and completely happy. "Don't call it 'copulation' you giant dork," she chided affectionately.

He was smiling too but slightly confused. "Then… what should I call it? … Intercourse?"

"No!" she laughed—that was even worse. "Call it… call it sex." She paused and considered the other ways to say it. "Or fucking. Screwing. Getting down and dirty. Doin' it." She said that last one with a note of immature glee and bit her lip, trying not to get silly. Cas seemed to find all those terms confusing and Alex sobered. "Making love?" she suggested quietly, then had to suppress another laugh because saying that out loud made her want to roll her eyes.

Cas's frown faded. "I like that one," he said, seeming pleased.

Grinning at him, Alex scrunched her nose a little. "Of course you do."

Cas was faintly confused and amused at the same time because of her tone and expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're such a sap," she explained, but it wasn't an accusation or an insult. It was an admiration, a playful affection.

Cas's smile returned and it was knowing. "You like that about me." He was almost playful, too.

Alex grinned again and grabbed him around the neck, pushed him down onto his back and kissed him, catching him off guard in the most pleasant of ways. She smiled against his lips and then drew back just a little, touching the side of his face and letting her thumb brush his cheek as her eyes flickered back and forth between his. "I love that about you."

---

Present Day

Nearly two years later found Castiel and Alex in a very different place altogether. They were laying on a bed together again… but things were so very different.

"I—I just don't understand how," Alex managed, and her voice was muffled because her face was buried in the front of Cas's coat. Her voice was cracked, rasping, and weakened from crying. "If I had known… oh god, if I had known…" her fingers tightened as they clung to the fabric of his shirt and she quaked from the spasms of grief. His arms tightened a little around her.

"You didn't know," Castiel consoled, but the words felt rude and pointless and he was so shocked and grief-stricken himself that he could barely speak. Still, he kept trying. "You couldn't have known. None of us could have." But… he felt like he should have sensed it somehow, angel powers or not, he should have felt or known that she carried the beginning of a child inside of her. Their child. Could any discovery be more horrific and saddening? To know that all this time a little life they had put into motion had been extinguished before even being recognized or acknowledged? It was a burden that cracked Castiel in half. He held Alex all the tighter, not knowing what to do or say. How could anyone ever be prepared to receive news like this?

Sam had dropped the bombshell a few moments ago and Castiel, who hadn't left like he'd been asked previously (remaining there and invisible instead), had been present when brother told sister that she had been pregnant at the time of possession. After Castiel made himself visible again, Sam left them to themselves. Cas went to Alex and the current state of their crumbling relationship was forgotten. They put it aside, especially Alex, who wouldn't even touch or look at Cas previously. One moment he had been fighting for her to stay with him and not end their relationship, the next they were grieving a lost baby who didn't even have a name.

In the moments that followed that horrible revelation, Alex became so physically exhausted by her tears and so bereaved that Cas laid them both down on the bed and there he held her tightly as his mind and heart raced sickeningly. He tried to calm her down even as he fought to grasp what had been brought to light. He felt as though it couldn't be true. Or maybe that was just a selfish desire. It's too much, it's too horrible, it's too unthinkable. I don't want it to be true.

If Alex hadn't said yes to Lucifer, I would be a father right now.

That single realization struck him as if with lightning and left him feeling hollow, strange, defeated, and lost. A father.

Without meaning to, Cas visualized a little toddling girl with dark hair like his and eyes like Alex's—this baby girl would be nearing her first birthday in present time had she lived. But she didn't exist anymore. She was gone. Everything her life would have been was now only a quiet thought and an unanswered question. The word 'tragedy' did not need explaining to Castiel. Not in the least. He now knew firsthand, and he despaired because it was too late to change it.

Even as Cas struggled to comprehend and come to terms, Alex shuddered and sobbed weakly against him. That sound drove him to excruciating emotional agony. How could he make this better? What were they supposed to do now? How could anything ever be all right ever again? Cas held her closer in the darkness, as if maybe being closer to each other could heal the feeling of being torn open and apart. "How could I have l-let this happen?" she stumbled out in between tears and uneven, sobbed breaths.

Cas felt another jolt of shock. She thought this was her fault? Even as he realized why she would think that—saying yes to Lucifer had signed her own death certificate and that of the child they hadn't even known about—he was horrified. "Alex, don't blame yourself for this," he implored anxiously, beside himself to think that she would feel this way. "This isn't your fault."

"Then whose is it?" She broke his heart all over again with that quiet question and the way she asked it.

"…Mine," Cas murmured wretchedly. How stupid and thoughtless and reckless had he been to not account for this or be responsible? "I should have realized it would have been a possibility that you could have been able to conceive when I lost my powers but… I didn't even think of it."

He felt her shaking her head 'no' against him and his hand tightened behind her head. "I'm the one who walked up to the devil and said yes," she whispered. There was a long silence. "I don't even know what to think or feel right now." Her tears were slowly lessening into a more blank demeanor. "How can this be real?"

He wondered the same thing. "I don't know," he answered, hating that he had no words to take away the pain or comfort her. Nothing could have prepared him to learn of this.

She shivered and sniffed for half of a minute, calming down as Cas gently kissed her forehead and then cradled her head in his hand, pressing his forehead against hers. They were both lost and he felt it, but the one saving grace was being able to hold her close. Perhaps her previous rejection of him would change. "W-what happens t-to babies that young?" she asked in the softest whisper. "When they—" her voice almost completely failed her. "When they die?"

That question made another wave of grief wash over him. Cas drew back a little and contemplated her with gentle, sad eyes. She was looking to him for hope, for answers, for comfort, for reassurance. He wasn't sure if the truth would help or harm her. "There's a garden hidden deep among the heavens," he said slowly, recalling that verdant and serene place, "where the flowers that bloom are all the young souls that were never born or who died when they were just infants." He paused heavily. In all of Heaven there had never been a more sad or beautiful place to him—such vivid life blooming in every color known to man, these flowers that scattered the landscape in all directions. A deep feeling of peace and sorrow rested there. All these souls who had never lived to their full potential or been given what he thought they should have had: a chance at life on earth. But now, having had experienced the brutality of life firsthand and having learned that pain and failure seemed inescapable… perhaps that was a better fate. To dwell quietly among the silent flowers for all eternity. "I've only seen it once," he murmured, and he realized that if he should go again, one single flower among the millions would belong to him. "I suppose she's there," he said, almost to himself. His voice was stark as he thought of this human being he had taken part in creating. "I hope she's there."

Alex stiffened. There was another anguished sound from her as she clung onto his coat even tighter than before and buried her face in his chest because she was unable to face the world. "I killed Sam, I killed you, I killed her, oh my god!"

Alarmed, Cas held his grieving wife more securely. "You... did what you thought was right," he said, trying very hard to comfort her. It was difficult, because he needed comforting too.

"And I was wrong!" she exclaimed tearfully, then pushed away, grabbing him by the forearms as they laid there. She looked desperate and urgent. "Cas, please—I am begging you. Don't work with Crowley. Don't do this Purgatory thing. Please. Let's find some other way." Her face distorted. "H-haven't we lost enough?"

His heart was weighted down impossibly because she was so deeply grieved. He gently traced away wet hairs that were stuck to her cheek and the place underneath her eye. "We have lost enough," he agreed quietly, and when he thought of all that had gone wrong for them he could have wept, too. "But we could lose everything." There was one small hope Cas was holding on to in that moment. That Alex would cling to him like he wanted to cling to her. That her previous statements about it being 'over' were just emotional overreactions and that they would remain together in the eleventh hour when he thought they needed each other the most. Cas tried to make her understand again. "Alex—I have to do this. I've invested too much, I've gone too far, I have no other choice." Her face twisted up pleadingly and the tears that glittered unfallen in her eyes made him hurt. "Please. I'm asking you to trust me," Cas implored gently, laying it all on the line and once again begging for her to believe in him. Surely she would, because he had done everything for her, he had given all, and she knew that. Or, she knew most. "I've tried other solutions, I've considered all avenues—this is the only way."

Alex searched his eyes with her pained ones. "How can it be?"

Cas hesitated, then reached out and touched her forehead with soft fingertips. "Let me show you." When she realized what he was doing, she pulled away with a note of disgust on her face, but it was too late. He'd already put back the memories he took—and now she remembered it all. She blinked in surprise at the rush of new recollections, her pupils dilating a little wider. Her eyes fell down in thought as she silently processed what was suddenly in her mind again. Cas could have held his breath. Surely she would understand now. Now she remembered what he had stolen away after the soul touch, now she would retain memories of everything she had seen. All of it. She would see his meeting with Crowley, his conflict and near-death at Raphael's hands, the impossible dilemma he was faced with: the apocalypse restarting, him never being able to see her again, her soul being damned, the world being devastated and possibly wiped out completely. She would see how he tried to undercut Crowley by creating all those new souls, she would see how that plan crashed and burned and how she died in that alternate timeline. She would know how deeply it pained him to keep everything from her, she would know his true motivation had always been to keep her safe.

At her extended silence and lack of reaction, Cas was more and more worried. Her face remained mostly expressionless. She was perhaps a little vexed, but he couldn't see her feelings otherwise. Then she suddenly sat up and turned away from him, letting her legs hang off the other edge of the bed. Cas pushed himself up with an arm, confused at her silence and sudden movement. And then, with a great deal of attitude, he heard her scoff. "Fuck it," she said forcefully. "Let the world end, huh? Maybe the apocalypse is supposed to happen, maybe the earth is supposed to die out and go to hell. Why fight it if it's fate or whatever?" She sounded cynical and bitter. "I don't really care anymore."

Cas felt almost angry because what she said was an insult to all the things he'd done and the sacrifices made. "You don't mean that," he said, but it was a question and an admonishment at the same time.

"Like hell I don't!" she snapped, standing up and whirling to look at him where he sat on the bed. She was volatile and past her breaking point. "Hasn't this fight done enough damage?" she demanded in rising distress. "We walk away while we still can, while there's still something left!"

Cas stood too, and the bed separated them. "No," he said, shaking his head multiple times. "I can't walk away. The fate of the entire world hangs in the balance, your fate hangs in the balance."

She threw her hands up briefly in a gesture of angry apathy. "Who cares?"

Getting more and more confounded at her behavior, Cas rounded the bed. "I do," he said, his tone implying that she was shocking him. "And so do you." She looked away and shook her head, quashing away visible self-hatred. He knew her. She fought tooth and nail. She didn't give up easily. The only times he'd seen her give up before were when she felt completely alone and out of help. As such, Cas stayed himself then tried a gentler approach. "Don't give up," he pleaded, approaching until he was close enough to softly touch her arm. At his touch, she shut her eyes briefly and struggled. "Not now," Cas continued. "Not after everything."

Her glassy tear-soaked eyes opened and looked up into his. "But what's left?" she asked in a whisper that broke.

Cas swallowed, because his throat was malfunctioning and it felt as if some large object were stuck in it. "Us."

Her gaze fell and her jaw tightened. "I don't know about that."

The hope he'd been feeling was abruptly crushed again. He couldn't bear this horrible looming threat of the end of everything. Why, why hadn't he had the foresight to tell her everything before this? He was not too ashamed to beg. He knew after everything he'd done he had to. "Alex…" he began, not sure how to say all he felt, not sure why she would reject him even after having the memories back. She knew his motivations and feelings now, didn't that explain everything? Couldn't she find it within herself to have mercy on his mistakes?

Alex pulled away from his hand and looked at him with eyes that were tortured by conflict. "Cas my whole life has been about keeping bad stuff outta the world. Trying to put down the kinda creatures you're about to let out into the general population, you know?" Her truly agonized feelings were showing and it killed him to know he was the reason why. "What you're doing goes against everything I've ever stood for. And… I mean, I can't do this with you. I can't. And that kills me."

While he understood the logic of what she said, while he knew his plan of action was dangerous, he also knew that he loved her too much to fail. He refused to fail. Shouldn't she know that about him? She had seen him through that soul touch, felt the essence of who he was, touched the inferno of devotion that burned for her and her alone. As such, he didn't understand. It cut him in a place he couldn't physically be cut. He only wanted her to believe in him. He needed that. "You know me," he insisted brokenly. His eyes held hers somberly, earnestly, anxiously. He knew that in the past, the Winchesters had all done shady things to get a certain outcome. How was he any different? "You know that humanity and saving people and saving you is what I value most. So please, have faith in me. In this plan. I need you to."

Alex was confounded. "Asking me to trust you after how much you lied? What you've done?"

Hurt because he kept expecting at least her to see the good in him, to give him a chance, to empathize, Cas was growing frustrated. "Why don't any of you—" he started in a voice that was tight and confrontational. He made himself stop and he calmed his temper. When he was less tense, he tried again. "Why don't you believe I can do this?"

With eyes that had seen into him in ways no one else had, she looked at him long and somber. "Do you believe you can do this?"

A question he couldn't answer.

Castiel was silent because of that small shadow of a doubt that was always there in the back of his mind, telling him that every action and choice was the wrong one, every step he took was one step closer to destruction. Had anyone ever had such weight on their shoulders? Had anyone else ever known this burden? He hadn't been prepared for it. He hadn't been ready.

Just out of arms reach, Alex hugged herself loosely and refused to look at him. "I think you need to leave now."

His heart felt like it clenched up inside of his chest. He watched her speechlessly for a moment and he couldn't comprehend why she would ask him to leave now of all times. "But you're upset," he protested softly.

"And I'll be upset," she returned hollowly. "About all this. For a long time. Maybe forever."

Cas held himself stiffly. "I should stay with you," he said in wavering confidence. His voice caught and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be young, small, afraid of that large and looming unknown world. "I don't want to go."

Her face flickered. She was outwardly hard and he couldn't tell her real emotions. "Yeah well, you have your war to win, don't you? Give Crowley a hug from me."

She turned away and he felt stung. That was his signal to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to go. It felt wrong. She was trying to make more distance between them and it felt like if he didn't bridge the gap now, the distance might never lessen again. She needed him right now, didn't she? "Alex," he said quietly, following her in timid uncertainty. "Don't push me away—not now." When she said and did nothing, he wracked his mind for a way to say what he felt. "Shouldn't a husband comfort his wife when she's—"

"Stop, stop!" she burst out, surprising him. She whirled as she said the words and her shoulders heaved up and down with unsteady emotion. "You and I are not—" she used her hands to indicate she was out of words and had no way of putting it. And then she destroyed his world. "It's not real," she said, and he felt as though he'd been physically struck across the face.

"Not real?" he repeated dumbly, thinking surely he had misunderstood. She was talking about something else. Yes, she had given him his token back—the penny. Yes, she had told him she couldn't continue in the relationship at present. But to say it wasn't real…? She couldn't be talking about the most important day that had ever existed. It was the realest thing to him, his anchor, his North star, his comfort in the hardest of moments.

"You, me, us, what we did—" she was attempting to be flippant through deep emotional distress and she was coming off as despairing and lost. "It's not real."

How was it that three small words could render him into a ruined man? How could she decide that, how could she hurt him that much? Never in all of his existence had he felt more pain than he felt at that moment. The one he loved to his deepest depths had just torn into a part of him that had never been torn into before. For a wretched and bare silence, Cas couldn't even find it in himself to know how to react. "The, the vows we made—" he finally protested in a breaking voice.

"I said stop!" she insisted in a near shout. "I don't want to be married to a pathological liar, I don't want to be married to the villain, I don't want to be married at all! It was a joke, we were kidding ourselves! I don't belong to anyone and I don't want you here right now, so get the fuck away from me and stay gone!"

Her words were like knives thrown into him repeatedly and he could have staggered away from the physical effect they put on him. Stay gone? She didn't want to be married? Cas tried not to panic. Even though he was shot down every time he reached out to her, he tried again because he had promised forever, everything, always, and his instincts told him she must need him as much as he needed her. "Surely right now we shouldn't separate or withdraw from each other," he chanced in rising emphatic desperation. "Surely now of all times we should…" he tried to think of a way to phrase it, "lean on each other?"

Her eyes came to him and she was cold. "I don't need anyone. Especially not you."

Castiel felt his stinging eyes blinking rapidly as an expression of hurt confusion made his face tight all over. Did she hate him? For everything he'd done to her? He didn't know if he could blame her if she did. The one who had caused all this was himself. That was the true tragedy. He could have prevented all of this.

Was it truly over? "If I could go back in time…" he faltered when his voice refused to stay smooth and stable. He took a moment to gather himself and try to plead his case to her one last time. "I'd find a way to make this right." Oh, how he wished he could. "But all I have is what I've done." Realizing that perhaps there was no undoing the damage done, Cas tried to be courageous even as he felt like some part of himself was suffering asphyxiation. He tried not to sink down into the feeling of powerless despair. He tried to be strong for them both. "I'm going to see this through for us, Alex," he promised, and he meant it. To his dying breath. She was worth it to him. Any heartache, any harm, even this heartache and harm that was being given from her hand to him. He looked at her and he loved her so much he ached physically. "And I will do whatever it takes to earn your love back. And even if you don't…" he paused and swallowed, barely able to speak this thought aloud. "Even if you don't want me anymore, it doesn't matter. If you can never find it within yourself to love me again, it changes nothing for me." He felt his face working with emotional response to the words he was saying. "I will fight for you until the day I no longer exist." She said nothing but her eyes were shining more than they had a minute ago and her features were stiffer, like she was fighting to keep them in place and still. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the penny on the chain very slowly. He offered it out to her, wanting her to take it, begging her to take him back and forgive him even in the slightest. "This… this is yours."

She swallowed and he saw how a tear ran out of one of her full eyes. She looked off to the side past her shoulder and tried to disguise the tears in her voice. "I don't need that."

Cas stared a moment long then nodded acceptance even though he didn't understand. How could she just give up and push him away after everything they had been through and promised? He remembered her on their wedding day, so sweet and innocent and trusting of him, so willing to be his. And now this. Castiel approached her again, trying to appeal to her one last time, wanting her to know that his heart was in this and that he had done everything out of good intentions. "Alex—" he began, then a sudden searing pain overtook his entire nervous system. "Augh!" he cried out, doubling over and smashing a hand to his head, dropping the penny before he was abruptly forced out of the house completely.

Shocked when he disappeared and fizzled out like static from in front of her, Alex looked around in abrupt worry. "Cas?" At her feet, the penny on the chain glimmered in the moonlight it caught—he'd dropped it when he disappeared. What had just happened? Had one of her brothers banished Cas? She crouched down and picked up the penny on the chain, looking around for clues to what had happened. She didn't see anyone or hear anything, and there had been no burst of light or blast of wind. For a few seconds, she stayed there, crouched in the darkness in a dumb shock. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket at that second and she grabbed it then read while standing up.

Cas at 3:29AM:
It appears the angel wards have been corrected. I'm all right.

She looked toward the window and went immediately, her heart pounding in anxiety. When she got there, she saw him. He stood with his phone hanging at his side as he looked up at her from the lawn below. Her shoulders sagged in relief and her hand lightly raised and fingertips pressed into the cold glass pane. Mind spinning, head light, heart heavy, Alex regretted everything she'd said to him but didn't know how to deal or where to go from here. Everything inside of her was trying to push him away where she couldn't be hurt any further because the pain was unbearable. She had imagined him to be her hero, a knight in white, a good and completely benevolent being who would never treat her as he had. Yeah, she got that his choices were limited and his fears were huge. But thinking he was protecting her by not telling her about what he was really doing this whole time? He'd been protecting himself. She almost felt sorry for him that respect, but mostly she was angry that he hadn't trusted her like she'd trusted him.

The only other person on earth Alex had ever trusted more than Cas was Dean. In her experience, most people weren't dependable. She'd always held trust closely to herself and never gave it out freely. And then… along came Cas. He'd softened her hard heart without even trying, he'd stolen away her defenses. She'd believed in him completely. And look what she had to show for that belief: scattered pieces on the ground, a heart that had been smashed into the oblivion of pain. A lost child. A baby girl who would always be nothing but a mere possibility that was gone forever. Alex thought she had known guilt before today. But now, knowing she was responsible for endangering the little life that had been carried inside of her body, knowing she was why there was another flower in that heartbreaking garden Cas had told her about… she felt unfit to carry on living.

Alex stared out the window at Cas with tear-filled eyes and a heart that was heavy as mountains. He was the one her heart reached out for, he was the one her soul was restless without, he was the one who knew her in ways no one else did. He was the one she needed so fucking bad right now to deal with this grief and heartache. That's why it hurt so bad to know what he had done. She felt played and tricked and couldn't trust him like she had before. Why did he have to choose to lie to her? That was a question she already knew the answer to because now she remembered the soul touch and had felt his motivations as if they were her own. But understanding and empathizing didn't take away the wound or make anything better. She wanted to scream and shake him, tell him he could have saved their entire relationship by letting her in on everything, by choosing to be forthcoming. But he'd made his choices. And now she had to make hers.

She loved him, even though he'd hurt her so bad and violated every instance of trust she'd placed in him. She loved him, heart, soul, mind, body. But…

Dean's words to her earlier echoed in her mind.

It has to be over!

She didn't want it to be. But all she had left in her was bitterness and betrayed feelings and pain. And she felt like her brother was right.

After being hit over the head with painful revelations repeatedly all in one day, Alex was exhausted, emotionally frayed, and just wanted the entire world to go away and stop so that she could recover somehow. Could she recover? She didn't know. Her phone buzzed again. Another text from Castiel.

Cas at 3:30AM:
Can you give me another chance? Alex, please. I am begging you. I will never lie to you again as long as I live. Please.

Her heart clenched up. She read that message in her mind in his voice without meaning to. She looked up from the screen to him and she could have either cussed him out into the next century or flung her arms around him and never let go. She didn't know, and she was blank inside. After considering and trying to figure out how the hell to phrase herself, she started several replies to him then deleted them. She finally sent the following:

I don't know. I need some time to think about everything.

That was the honest truth. She saw him look down at his phone when the message arrived. He read it then he looked back up at her and nodded somberly, a silent acknowledgement of his understanding. But he looked so anguished and emotionally lost and Alex felt guilty. Who will be there for him? Who will comfort him right now?

Alex could hear footsteps coming up the attic staircase and she glanced over, not sure who it would be. "Hey." It was Sam, and he seemed cautious, watchful. "Dean just fixed the angel wards. You all right?"

Alex looked out the window. Cas was no longer there. Distracted and trying to look fine, she ignored the question and just commented on their brother's absence instead. "What, he's too good to come up here or something?"

Sam hesitated. "Uh… I don't think he's in the best mood right now." Deflating because she was once again thinking of how she'd hurt her brothers and let them down so bad, Alex looked away, but Sam saw the expression on her face. He came over and hugged her even though she put up a flimsy resistance to the affection. "Hey, hey." He let out a miserable sigh and his voice softened and lowered. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let it slip. It's… just been weighing on my mind so much lately, and after today, I just…" he trailed off, out of words.

"No," Alex said quietly. Even though she couldn't bear what she'd discovered, it would be wrong to go on and never know about it at all. Maybe Sam's timing was the worst in the world, but… "I needed to know that."

Sam didn't seem entirely convinced and drew back, giving her a tight smile through clear guilt he was feeling, then looked over her with sympathy. She knew she must look horrible—sleep deprived as always and red-eyed, puffy-faced, raw nose, all made even worse by her worn down demeanor. "It's late," he said, then squeezed a shoulder with a gentle grip. "You need some rest." He steered his drained sister to the bed.

"How could I sleep after today?" she asked, and she sounded very defeated and out of any semblance of energy or life. "After what we found out? After… after what you told me?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at her brother with flooding eyes. He looked guilty all over again but she wasn't blaming him. She was worrying about her other brother finding out. "Don't tell Dean, Sam. Please. He doesn't need any more reasons to hate Cas right now."

Sam's jaw tightened, maybe with annoyance that she was trying to protect Cas, maybe with pained empathy. Whatever he was thinking, he agreed somberly after a moment of consideration. "Yeah, I won't." He paused, seeming to be mildly uncomfortable. "I was—I was way outta line earlier tonight. All the stuff I said… about you and Cas…"

"Don't worry about it," she said flatly, feeling very apathetic at this point about all of that. "I know how you are." She couldn't even remember half of what he said, only remembered he'd stewed silently then blown up and stomped off then felt bad about it. She'd known Sam how long now? It was just how he processed, she reasoned absently. She had bigger and more weighty things on her mind than Sam's reaction to finding out about her sham of a 'marriage.'

Sam watched her in hooded concern as she stared off unseeingly into middle distance. "Alex, look, if you need to talk about it—"

Stiffening, Alex's voice went hard from panic. "No." She shook her head and set her jaw painfully. It was so hard to stay together at this point. "I don't wanna talk about it," she said, even though her insides were screaming to tell someone (anyone) the things she was feeling and how much she was hurting and how damn confused she was. She refused to open up. She shut herself down and pushed everything deep down into the growing darkness inside herself.

Sam hesitated, maybe sensing her true feelings. But respectfully he didn't push. Instead he nodded tersely. "Okay." He looked like he was thinking about backing off and leaving her to herself, but before he did, he offered a listening ear one more time. "If you change your mind…" he gave her a tight little smile, observed her a second longer, then nodded and let out a soft breath then retreated.

When he left, when his footsteps were no longer audible, when she was completely alone, she finally allowed herself the full breakdown. She cried in that bed until she was so exhausted she wanted to vomit, until every muscle in her body was useless and worn out. She didn't sleep at all for worrying over Cas and the path he was on, for grieving a child she had never imagined, for the lost innocence and beauty of the relationship she had been naive enough to imagine real, lasting, true, and perfect.

Everything had once seemed so hopeful. Everything had once shone with such brightness. Now she was heartbroken in darkness, wishing one of her brothers would see past her stubbornness and come comfort her despite the way she was pretending not to need it. But neither did. Only the attic bore witness to her grief. And she was alone.

---

The Next Day

Morning dawned and things went from bad to worse for the Winchester family, starting with Bobby's discovery that Cas had stolen a book when he came into the house (probably after he spoke with Dean and before he spoke to Alex). It was a journal belonging to one of the Campbell relatives. Because Bobby was a self-proclaimed 'paranoid bastard' he had made a copy of the journal and set to work trying to figure out why Cas would have taken that particular volume. When he discovered that one of the journal entries was about H.P. Lovecraft (an author whose work focused heavily on Purgatory lore and theories), he decided there must be something to it.

While Sam and Dean were present when this discovery was made, Alex hadn't come down from the attic even once. Still too angry with her to see her, Dean stayed downstairs when Sam took her some breakfast and checked on her. He reported back that she didn't eat and wouldn't say much. Dean made a rude comment or two about her 'husband' and got two wan looks from Bobby and Sam. Bobby said not to be cruel, Sam gave his brother a predictable bitchface and said he needed to take it easy.

And then, a couple hours into stone-faced research came the phone call from Ben. Panicking, the kid called Dean and said his mom Lisa and her boyfriend were being attacked as he spoke. The boyfriend was killed and Ben was knocked unconscious in the middle of the call. And who should come to the other end of the line as Dean listened with horror and asked "Ben! Ben?" over and over again but Crowley. The King of Hell took them, telling Dean if he ever wanted to see them again to back off and stay out of the way.

And then he made it even worse when he paused and said, "oh and by the way. Tell your sister not to try and stop me, either. I figure she doesn't have a stake in the Braeden bunch so I took her friend, too. Only one I could find. Blonde, witchy, loads of gaudy tattoos? Come near me, try and stop me, they all get it. Couldn't find anyone Moose cares about, they're either all dead or you. But it's the thought that counts, right? Bye now."

Dean reacted immediately to Crowley's call, not about to sit there for a single second and let Lisa, Ben, or Jamie be held captive by demons. Alex reacted out of depression when they told her, lamenting how they always got people hurt and killed. Dean made a couple angry comments to her, his hurt feelings and intense need to rescue their friends making him thoughtless and rude. She bristled then yelled that she wanted no part of hunting or saving people ever again and Sam knew why. But after the door slammed, Dean just muttered that she was a fucking brat and selfish as hell and Cas could have her if she was gonna be such a pain in the ass. Sam thought if only he knew. But he had promised not to tell.

---

That Night

Out in the salvage yard, Bobby set off to go do some research on H.P. Lovecraft after wishing the boys good luck. As his Chevelle puttered off into the darkness, Sam and Dean put the finishing touches onto the summoning ritual for Balthazar, who wouldn't answer their prayers.

"This is stupid, Sam," Dean said, repeating himself in burgeoning frustration. "He's not gonna help us!"

Sam shot his brother an increasingly impatient side-eye. Both of his siblings were on edge now in different ways and he felt like the only sort of sane one. "Keep your head, huh?" He gave Dean a meaningful look that told him to calm down and stay present. He knew Dean was agitated and worried sick, but if they didn't handle his distress better, he'd get them in deeper trouble than before. "Beggars can't be choosers." Dean gave an eye roll at that comment and Sam huffed. "Do you know any other angels who might be able to help?"

Dean cracked a painfully cynical and dead-in-the-eyes smile. "Nope. Fresh outta angel buddies."

"Right." Sam pulled out a matchbook, struck and lit the match, then dropped it into the waiting bowl. Sparks snapped and flew, flames shot up high then died. The floodlights dotting the nearby salvage yard flickered in the darkness, buzzing in and out. And then like clockwork—one, two, three—they burst and shattered, leaving the landscape in silvery, moonlit dimness.

"I'm sorry boys, do I look like a man-servant to you?" Balthazar asked sarcastically. The Winchesters turned and saw the angel standing in a rakish pose on top of a nearby car. In his hand, a flute of some kind of champagne. On his face, an expression of veiled annoyance. "No? Then stop ringing for me, please!"

"This is important, Balthazar," Dean said forcefully.

Short on patience, Balthazar corrected Dean quickly. "I was drinking seventy-five Dom out of a soprano's navel when you called. That was important."

Sam frowned at the comment and the wine glass in the angel's hand. "…Aren't you supposed to be fighting a war?"

Balthazar smiled in near amusement. "Ah, doesn't suit me," he said in a lazy, slow cadence. "All the killing and constant possibility of dying… I'd much rather be drinking and partaking in debauchery, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Crowley's alive."

Sam's curt statement garnered a couple of shocked blinks from the angel who quickly tried to look unfazed. "Wh—yes, yes of course he is," Balthazar said in exaggerated casual disinterest. He descended off the car he stood on with a single, graceful step. "Everyone knows that." He gestured loftily using his wine glass.

"Does everyone also know that Cas is Crowley's butt-buddy, you smug little dick?" Dean challenged disrespectfully, approaching him in a confrontational slink.

"Excuse me?" the angel asked, frowning slightly.

"Handshake deal," Sam explained darkly. "Go halfsies on all the souls of Purgatory. He fill you in on that?"

"Well, yes, yes," Balthazar said after a stunned pause. "Yes, of course he did. Yes."

It was painfully obvious that the guy was lying out of his ass. "Oh, yes, of course," Sam said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can read it all over your face."

Dean's expression was taut and harrowed. "Look, Crowley and Cas took some people who are very important to me."

"And I care about this because…?" Balthazar asked lackadaisically.

"Because maybe there is a shred of decency underneath this, this snarky, playboy crap." The angel said nothing, merely sipped his drink and considered Dean's statement. Dean tried again, and this time he let some earnestness bleed through. "They're innocent and I'm asking for your help. And one of 'em's a kid, man. Just a damn kid."

Balthazar hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Well if you never ask, you'll never know, am I right?" He smiled wanly and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. Then he promptly disappeared, leaving Dean to fume indignantly.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Look, Dean," Sam chanced, tired of beating around the bush with his brother and getting nowhere. "Let's just call Cas. Maybe he doesn't know anything about this."

Dean turned to his brother with an ugly expression on his face. "Yeah, and maybe the the moon is made out of cheese. Sam, we are not calling Cas."

"But Dean—"

"We're not calling Cas!" Dean insisted even louder.

Sam forcibly stowed his own temper to try and be considerate to his brother. He didn't feel like being pounded into the ground verbally or otherwise. "So what then?" he asked stiffly.

Dean darkened, clenched his jaw. "I think you know." Yeah. Sam did know. Find some demons, torture them for information. That had been Dean's idea earlier which Sam had protested. At Sam's silence and clear disapproval, Dean leveled with his brother. "Look, Lisa and Ben are my responsibility and enough shit has happened to Jamie already because of us. We gotta make this right. However we have to." He looked so grim and determined that it unsettled Sam. Shaking his head as truly desperate emotions showed in his eyes, Dean let his true feelings show: Fear, doubt, desperation. "If any of them get hurt 'cause of me…" his voice caught and he toughened himself in an attempt to look less scared shitless. His voice roughened and his glare returned. "We gotta load up. Go find us some black-eyed bitches." He brushed past Sam, marching toward the Impala.

Sam was resigned to go with him, but was a little caught of guard. They were they just gonna leave right now? "What about Alex?" he asked. This was the kind of thing where they'd usually stick together as a family and face the issue the three of them. Maybe it would do her some good to get out of the attic. He wasn't really sure, honestly.

Dean stopped and turned, giving Sam an insolently challenging look. "What about her?" he asked snidely. "Last thing I need's her moping around in the damn back seat and possibly even giving her little boyfriend the head's up about what we're doing." He glanced toward the house darkly, eyes cutting to the little attic window. For a split second, real emotion showed and he clearly thought twice about his cruel statement. Then he resolved himself and clouded over once again. "Get your stuff, Sam."

---

The Next Day

Sam paced an unfocused little circle back and forth in the salvage yard adjacent to the little workshop garage Bobby had built years back. "Huh, I see," he said into the phone, frowning in thought. The Lovecraft thing was starting to get interesting. "Well keep me posted, huh?"

"Will do," Bobby's voice replied on the other end of the line. There was a slight pause. "How's Dean?"

As if on cue, a scream of pain sounded from within the workshop behind Sam. Setting his jaw in a wan fashion, Sam sighed softly and stopped pacing. "About how you'd expect."

Another pause. "And Alex?"

Sam wasn't really sure. "Haven't seen her all day," he answered honestly. He was pretty worried about her.

"Poor kid," Bobby said, letting out a gusty sigh on the other end of the line. "When it rains it pours, don't it?"

Sam thought that was putting it lightly. "Something like that."

"All right, well I'll call when I got more on this Lovecraft mumbo jumbo," Bobby said, sounding pretty tired and over it.

"Okay," Sam said. "Bye Bobby. Thanks." He hung up and thought about this mess they were currently in. He hated that he'd been right to suspect Cas in this. He hated what was happening right now. He hated that he'd slipped up and told his sister that devastating news about the lost baby. He barely slept anymore without dreaming horrible nightmares about Lucifer and what he'd had planned for the new world order.

Sam quashed down the sick feeling when he thought about that. Above all else, no one would ever know that. It was too disturbing and sadistic and terrifying, and Sam didn't ever want his sister to feel the horror he felt. He didn't want Dean to look at him with disgust and suspicion. However, the more Sam thought about it, the more he was wondering if maybe Cas had a point with all this Purgatory crap. If it meant Lucifer never returned, if it meant Alex would never be in danger that way… maybe Sam agreed with it. Agreed was a strong word. But to him, it was the lesser of two evils. Only, he couldn't tell anyone that.

Behind him he heard the crunch of gravel. Someone was walking up behind him. But Dean was inside the garage. These steps were coming from the direction of the house. Sam turned and was surprised to see Alex out and about. She had showered and dressed in clean clothes, had her hands in her pockets and a serious, unreadable look on her face as she approached. "Hey…!" he greeted in surprise, wondering what was going on and if she was feeling better or what.

"Hey," she returned neutrally, then nodded toward the workshop. "Any luck?"

Sam's expression wavered. He had to give her the bad news. "Not so far." He thought about it for a second then remembered there was some light at the end of the tunnel. "Bobby's on a few leads though. Might have something. Too early to tell, really."

Alex nodded briefly, eyes still on the workshop. She was deep in thought and it showed. "You think Cas knew about this?" she asked finally. "You think he had something to do with taking our friends?"

That was the question of the year. Sam sobered even further. "Dunno. Hope not."

A chilling scream sounded from inside of the garage and then pleas for mercy. Dean's familiar voice could be heard shouting indistinctly and Alex shut her eyes, turning her head away slightly. "This is crazy."

Sam agreed. "We're gonna get through it though," he said, trying to reassure her even though he was pretty harrowed and not sure how they possibly could figure this one out.

His words seemed to do little but make her feel rueful and she scoffed cynically. "Maybe this is finally the time when we won't get through it."

She turned and wandered over to a nearby rusted-out car and sat down in door hole—the door had fallen off years ago. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up as Sam watched and disapproved. He made no comment on the bad habit. Just spoke to the real issue at hand. "Don't give up."

The cigarette dangled between her knees and she looked up at him with a disturbingly blank expression. "What would you do if you were me, Sam?"

"I wouldn't give up," he said, some authority and reprimanding in his tenor voice. He walked over toward her. "Not yet." She half rolled her eyes and took a long drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out to watch it flutter out and dissipate. "I know you," Sam insisted, getting annoyed with her. "You're strong."

"Strong," she repeated, her tone implying that she was offended by that word. "My supposed husband is working for the King of Hell. I lost a fucking child. Cas is doing unthinkable shit, Dean won't talk to me, Bobby looks at me like I'm pitiful, you feel sorry for me—" She stared up at him like it was his fault. "I'm broken in fucking two, Sam! How am I supposed to just stow this war zone inside of me?"

Sam crouched down in front of her. "Hey. No one said to stow it. You can't bury that kind of stuff or it'll eat you alive."

She shook her head and looked down, watching the end of the cigarette turning to ash. "Every time I turn around people are dying and getting hurt because of what I've done and who I am. And I'm tired of it." Her eyes looked up into his, begging him for an answer or a way out of the pain. "I've had enough," she confessed in a voice that was weak and tired. "I've seen enough. I want it to end, I don't care anymore." One of her shaking hands reached up and covered her face, an ashamed gesture. "I have nothing left."

Sam gently took the forgotten cigarette out of her limp fingers and dropped it, trying to get her to look at him by putting his hand on the side of her head. "You have me. And you have Dean. Bobby too. None of us is perfect but… isn't that something?"

She looked at him and she clearly didn't know how to feel. "Am I cursed, Sam?" she asked softly, breaking his heart with the way she asked that. "Is our family cursed?" It wasn't a please-feel-sorry-for-me. It was an honest question, one he'd wondered about himself before too. "Anything good we've ever had falls apart and gets ripped to shreds," she continued, and Sam couldn't disagree without feeling like he was being patronizing. A cynical, wounded smile appeared there at the edges of his twin's mouth. "Maybe it's for the best, huh? Now some kid I accidentally let happen doesn't have to exist in this hell on earth we live in. I'd be a shitty mom anyway. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling me that once and for all."

"Alex, no, you'd be a—"

Mild panic flared in her hazel eyes which snapped to his and stared hard. "Stop, stop. Please don't. I can't fucking talk about this." She dashed away some tears with her fist and sniffed, gathering herself. "Shouldn't have brought it up." She sniffed again, louder and harder, then cleared her throat, straightened up, and was the picture of businesslike. It was disconcerting. "So. Anything else you remembered whenever you got your Lucifer memories back or whatever?" she asked, and he didn't know if she was being earnest or just trying to steer the conversation. "Any other bombshells you forgot to share?"

He swallowed and looked away, stood up, and shook his head no, lying. "Uh—no. Nope." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find something to tell her to fill the silence. "Just… it was cold in there. Dark."

"Yeah." She had a distant look in her eyes. "I remember."

Sometimes Sam forgot that she knew what it had been like too. No one else in the world but them and that Nick guy knew what it felt like to have the epitome of evil and cold ruthlessness inside of them. Sam wished she didn't have to know that. He wished that hadn't happened to her. He wished she hadn't said yes. He knew she wished that same thing, even more than before. Because of the baby girl who had lived and died for a mere whisper of a moment. "You were trying to save me." It was important that she remembered that. "You were trying to save the whole damn world. You didn't know." She said nothing, just looked off with a face that said that was a nice thought but it changed nothing. Sam didn't know what else to say and just drew in a deep breath, let it out, wishing he knew how to help her. He thought this was probably one of those 'time heals all wounds' kind of things. And he knew Alex well enough to see that she wanted space right now. He didn't know how else to appeal to her and he was so depressed himself, honestly, that he let it go. "I'm gonna go check on Dean."

He got no response from her and after waiting a couple beats, he walked off to go from one grieving and heartbroken sibling to the next.

Alex sat there and listened to a crow calling in the distance. It was a lonely and ominous sound. Her eyes drifted to the discarded cigarette a few feet off from her left foot. She wished she could escape herself and be someone else entirely. She had meant what she screamed at Dean last night or whenever the hell that was. She was done hunting. Couldn't do it anymore. Not after this. The demons, ghosts, monsters, angels… all of them could go to hell. She just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Never have to feel ever again.

And to think she used to read romance novels. What a joke. Love was a knife, and she had been stabbed in the back.

There was a soft gust of wind nearby and Alex's hair shifted in response but she kept staring at her boots. Until she realized that wind wasn't part of the weather, but the arrival of an angel. "Hello Alex."

She looked up with startled eyes. Castiel stood there a few feet in front of her and he watched her sadly. Standing up immediately, she was guarded and looked at him suspiciously. "Did you know about this?" she asked immediately, not in the mood to waste time or energy. "About Lisa and Ben and Jamie being taken hostage? Were you the one who took them?"

"What?" Cas asked, his face showing what appeared to be genuine confusion. Her questioned seemed to earnestly surprise him. "Hostage?" His eyebrows moved even further in towards each other. "Wh—no, of course not. This is the first I've heard of it."

Alex thought he seemed to be telling the truth, but she had thought that before too and been proved wrong. That realization hurt bad. "I don't whether you're telling the truth or not," she said in a murmur, then threw in a sarcastic comment to try and sound less devastated by that. "Sad day." The mild hurt that creased Cas's face was both a reward and a twinge of pain for her. Did he really not know what the King had done? Maybe not. She explained in a gruff voice. "Your little friend Crowley took them so my family wouldn't try to stop the two of you."

He was shaking his head, appearing to be absolutely astonished by the news and horrified that she thought he was involved. "I didn't know," he insisted. "I didn't approve this. You know I wouldn't."

"I don't know what you would do and wouldn't do," she returned, wishing that weren't true. Again, Castiel was visibly hurt. Guilty, Alex tried to hide it underneath a mask-like face. "Fine. You didn't know. But now you do. So…"

He nodded tensely. "I'll look into it." He paused, his anxious expression and vexed eyes pleading with her silently. "I thought of you all night and day, I—"

Alex looked away, cutting him off because when he talked to her like that, she thought she might cave in. "Save my friend and Dean's… whatever they are," she said curtly, trying to hide her misgivings and uncertainties and the way she wanted to break down and be held by the one who had inflicted the pain. "And maybe we'll talk then." She made herself look at him then.

Castiel's anguish was clear. "You look at me as if I'm the enemy," he observed in a soft voice rife in pain.

Alex's mouth hardened into a line to control her emotions. "Maybe you are."

Heartbroken, Cas's shoulders sagged slightly. "After everything I've done… how can you think that?"

There might as well have been a thousand uncrossable miles between them and Alex realized truly in that moment that she didn't know how to get back to him or if she wanted to either. "After everything you've done, how can I not think that?"

Impossibly devastated, Cas's gaze faltered downward. His eyes had unshed tears in them and he looked like he was trying so hard to understand but couldn't. Without saying anything further, Castiel looked at her one final, unreadable time and then disappeared entirely.

Christ, she couldn't survive many more of these confrontations with Cas and come out standing up. Alex let out a shuddering breath and leaned against the car she stood near for support. Her world was spinning and she didn't know up from down anymore. With shaking hands Alex reached for another cigarette, needing something to take the edge off, now.

---

While Alex was paid that visit from Cas, Sam went into the workshop cautiously. Dead demon bodies were discarded like old trash, littering a corner of the garage where Dean had set up shop. A new, still-living demon was tied to a chair in the center of a painted devil's trap on the grease-splattered concrete floor.

With the bloodstained demon blade in hand, Dean slowly rounded the demon in a circle. "Next customer," he commented lowly, sizing up the newest demon. He'd already gone through four who weren't talking and he was getting really anxious.

"Look, I don't know anything," the demon said. He was in the body of a balding middle aged guy.

"Yeah, we'll see." Dean walked over to the tool rack where a half-drank bottle of whiskey was waiting.

Sam hesitated, then approached his brother. "Dean."

Barely acknowledging him, Dean set down the whiskey and began to wipe off the knife. "Yeah."

"Look, man," Sam appealed in a voice that was under his breath for furtiveness. "You—you're running on what, uh, whisky and, and coffee and whatever else you're taking…"

Dean seemed disinterested in the observations. "Yeah, and?"

"And we're grasping at straws here, man," Sam said, trying to be sensitive but also to reason with his brother. "I don't think we're gonna be able to find them."

Dean did not like that statement and looked at his brother with hard eyes. "We are going to find them, you hear me?" The way he asked it was almost like he was about to push or hit Sam. Then he backed off a little. "Look, I kill enough of these demons, eventually one of 'em's gonna tell me where Crowley is. So we good?"

No. But Sam knew better than to push Dean to a breaking point. "Well look, you've been at it for a while, why don't you at least let me take over?" Dean looked like he wasn't gonna go for that and Sam tried again, using every reason he could drum up. "Dean, you need a break. And Alex is… she's really hurting. She really needs you right now." And she did. Dean was refusing to even be near her at present, basically.

That comment earned Sam a dark glare. "What she needs is to get her head in the game!" Dean snapped, then gestured vaguely toward where the house would be. "She's boo-hooing it up about Cas and too bad but I don't have time to babysit the sap hour right now, people's lives are on the line!"

Sam was hurt in his sister's place and looked at his brother with disappointment. Why did he have to be like that? "You are one of the meanest people I've ever met, you know that?" he asked softly, his pained emotions showing.

Dean's face just hardened further. "Oh gosh, so sorry to hurt your precious feelings." He shoved something on the rack and a wrench clattered to the ground. "I don't have time to care."

He brushed past, moving back toward the demon. Sam stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Dean."

Dean yanked his arm away. "Sam, back off." He was more upset than Sam had initially realized. "Lisa and Ben and Jamie, wherever they are, that is a hundred percent on me," he said in a trembling voice. "And if they are hurt…" he trailed off and the vulnerable emotion he had been showing was suddenly cut off. "I'll yell if I need you," he said stiffly, then his face pinched up. "Why don't you go back to the crybaby patrol?"

Sam's temper was boiling under the surface and his fists were clenched at his sides. "Christ, sometimes I wanna hit you, Dean."

"Well then why don't you." Dean made a rude face and challenged Sam silently, spreading his arms and inviting his brother to take a swing. When Sam only gave his brother a bitchy expression, Dean pulled a disrespectful and sneering little face. "That's what I thought." He turned his back on Sam and approached the waiting demon with a foul expression.

Fed up, Sam left the garage and shut the door behind him.

---

Meanwhile, Crowley looked up from a large textbook at Cas's arrival. "Sweetie. You look tense."

"You took people you shouldn't have," Cas said angrily, stalking into the demon's lair with an irate expression.

Smirking and swaggering, Crowley was airy. "Oh. That."

"I told you—"

"Not to touch Sam and Dean and Mrs. Castiel," Crowley cut in. He seemed very pleased with himself. "And I've respected that. I'm merely exploiting the obvious loophole. As long as I have the woman and boy and the witch, your fop-coiffed little heroes will be scouring the earth for them, therefore not you, and not me. Everybody wins."

Cas clenched his jaw. The fact that Crowley was acting in breech of their partnership more and more didn't escape him. "I don't like this plan," he muttered, his dismay at his quickly slipping grip making him rigid all over. Everything was going wrong for him, everything was crashing and burning. "You should've talked to me first."

"I'd rather ask forgiveness than permission," the demon replied, then chuckled throatily and paced off toward his shelves full of various jars of bloods.

"Where are they, Crowley?" Castiel asked loudly, his voice laced with unspoken threats. He followed the demon and his fists were clenched at his sides. Crowley stopped and with great dramatic flair made a motion of zipping his lips and putting an invisible key into his coat pocket. Feeling like he had no control made Cas get even more shaky inside. He tried even harder to act as though his word had power. "You are not to harm them, do you understand me?"

Crowley's playful demeanor was suddenly replaced with chillingly dark warning. "You know what? You're all maxed out on putting humans out of bounds," he murmured, then his face twisted. "I'll do with them as I please. Want to stop me?" Spittle flew as his voice suddenly rocketed to a full-volume shout. "Go find freaking Purgatory!"

A sudden and blaring ringing sounded in Cas's head and he grimaced in surprise, put fingertips to his temple. Balthazar was summoning him. Why?

"Call on the bat-phone?" Crowley asked sardonically. "Never call during business hours, do they?"

Cas leveled the King of Hell with his most malevolent scowl. "I'll be back."

Crowley was already walking off flippantly. "Can't wait."

---

Cas responded to call that had been made of him and found Balthazar waiting for him somewhere deep within a verdant forest. He stood near a stream that cut through a clearing of large trees that loomed overhead. "Cas, Cas, Cas," the angel said slowly, turning to look at the angel in the trench coat. "So good of you to come."

"Balthazar." Cas was mildly dubious about what was going on. "Why'd you summon me here?"

The other angel answered the question with another one. "Can I ask you a direct question?"

"Of course."

"Are you in flagrante with the King of Hades?"

Cas paused, startled. How did Balthazar know about this? "That's preposterous," he said stiffly.

An easy, amused chuckle escaped Balthazar. "Always were such a terrible liar," he said ruefully. "So it's true. Alright then, why?"

Seeing little point in continuing to lie about it and also feeling too weary to summon the effort, Cas admitted to it with a heavy sigh. "It's a means to an end. Balthazar, you understand that."

"Oh, absolutely. But what's the end here exactly?"

Wasn't it obvious? "I need the souls and the power they contain." Cas felt as though he had repeated himself for a thousand years and that no one was listening or seeing his perspective. Balthazar probably wouldn't see his point of view either. "I have to win the war. Defeat Raphael. Stop the apocalypse." Cas was so tired of it all, so ready to be finished, so done with no one standing at his side. There was no hope left, but he told himself not to let feelings lead him. It had to be convictions now. "There are countless reasons why this fight has to be won."

Balthazar's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And does a certain young lady who only shops in the flannel section happen to be one of those reasons?"

Cas stiffened at the mention of his Alex, who had hurt him so deeply that even the mention of her stung. He looked away, ashamed. "By now you know that's a foolish question to even pose to me."

"Right." Balthazar peered at him skeptically. "And I can only assume that you'd be the vessel for this insane plan of yours, correct? Suck up all those souls into yourself? All that power?"

"It's the only way," Cas monotoned, not even sure why he was having this pointless conversation.

"The only way to kill yourself, you mean," Balthazar said in rising emphasis. When there was no visible reaction from Cas, he stepped closer. "Cas old sport, are you quite sure you've thought about this?" he asked, voice softening with concern. "It's too much juice for you, for anyone—best case scenario you explode, taking a substantial chunk of the planet along with you."

Cas's stomach clenched but he didn't listen to the voice of doubt in his head. "That won't happen," he muttered. It couldn't.

"Sure, sure, of course," Balthazar said, retaining his trademark playful air to a certain degree. "But you do know denial isn't just a river in Egypt, don't you?" His eyes flickered up and down Cas in questioning confusion and he became serious. "I know you're not this stupid, Cas. The risks you're taking with this..."

"I know the dangers, Balthazar," Cas interrupted. "It's this or utter decimation. It's what I believe is called an… acceptable risk. And besides, I'm too far in now. I can't stop."

Balthazar's eyes softened and sympathy rested there. "You can always stop."

Could he? Perhaps. But if he stopped now, so much would be lost. And all the things he'd done that had ruined his relationship with Alex would have been in vain. Shouldn't they at least mean something in the end? He truly hoped, deep down, that in time she would find it in her heart to forgive him. "I appreciate your concern," Cas said, voice deep and far away in grave thought. "But the stakes are too high. I have to see this through." He was resigned to this fate, chained to it, committed to whatever bitter end.

Balthazar saw that and gave up visibly. "If you insist," he said in a voice that indicated mild displeasure and great chagrin.

"How did you hear about this, anyway?" Castiel questioned, wondering if perhaps his brothers and sisters across Heaven had discovered him somehow.

"Oh, your howler monkeys of course," Balthazar said, nixing the idea as soon as Cas considered it. "See they're just a touch worked up about that kidnapping business, you know?"

Castiel looked down, deep in thought and very troubled indeed. "I suppose they also told you about the marriage, then," he said in a weighted voice.

Balthazar paused, made a face. "What marriage?"

Castiel could have lied or sidestepped that question. But he didn't. "Mine."

Balthazar looked like that information did not compute inside of his mind. And then a grin cracked his face. "Oh you. Really had me going there for a second, Cas buddy." He was laughing, pointing and wagging a finger at Cas. When Cas just stood there and looked chagrined, Balthazar faltered and his laugh died off into an uncertain little sound. He hesitated. "You are joking…?" Cas looked down slightly and Balthazar blinked twice. "Not joking," he breathed. "Oh my." He took a few disgruntled seconds to find it within himself to respond. "This is… quite the plot twist," he managed after a second, then utter puzzled pity came over his face. "Oh Cas. Pardon the rude question, but have you lost your bloody mind?"

Cas hesitated. "I'm… not sure."

"You do know what marriage is, right? Monogamy." Balthazar said that word like it was a disease. "One vagina for the rest of your life—in theory anyway. Now why on earth would you do that to yourself?"

"Don't be crass, Balthazar," Castiel reprimanded, mildly embarrassed. "I know what marriage is."

"Oh, I don't think you do," Balthazar said softly, then wet his lips and tried to get his brother to listen. "Cas—your little fantasy aside, no single human being is worth what you're about to do," he said in building emphatic disbelief. "This… infatuation of yours has gone far enough, don't you think?" Appearing totally stumped, Balthazar stood back slightly. "What is it about her that has you like this?"

Cas felt as though he were hollow inside. Like the sadness and heartbreak he was experiencing were killing him slowly. "She's everything to me," he said in a voice that was barely audible. "I want… I just want a life with her." He didn't think he would have that now. But maybe if he could have success, maybe if he could win this war, maybe if he could succeed in using Crowley to his own gain and defeating Raphael once and for all, she would see and understand. That was the hope he clung to and the motivation he couldn't let go of. "I need to know if you're with me, Balthazar."

Balthazar studied him quietly, carefully. "I am. But… what on earth would you do to me if I wasn't?" Castiel didn't answer. He only disappeared, leaving his brother to raise a dubious eyebrow. "Well that's reassuring…"

---

In the darkness of the garage, Dean filled a syringe with blood and turned around to look at the demon that it was intended for. Bloodied and beaten and slumped in the chair, the guy stared at the syringe with an expression of fear. "I promise you, pal," Dean said in soft malevolence. "Only gets worse from here. Been at it a few hours now, you really wanna stay quiet? Start talking." Dean approached slowly, taking his time and walking slow for ominous effect. He didn't notice how his wet shoe rubbed away part of the devil's trap keeping the demon at bay. "Or I swear, I will rip your skin off, strip by strip. And then I'm gonna kill you." He leaned in close to the demon. "And then I'm gonna do it to the next demon. You hear me?"

"Yeah." Suddenly the demon's eyes snapped over black and Dean's bravado faltered. What the hell? "I hear you." Without warning, the demon telekinetically threw Dean hard across the space of the garage and into the side of Bobby's van. The window smashed from the force of impact and Dean fell to the floor in a daze of pain. Before he knew what was happening, the demon was there in his face, having broken his bonds easily. He lifted Dean up by the neck, choking him. "So you can stop talking, you miserable sack."

Just as his vision was getting black around the edges and unconsciousness was approaching, help arrived. Castiel appeared behind the demon and clamped a hand down onto its head. Light seared out of the demon's face and he fell down dead. Gasping for air with a hand resting against his throat, Dean's initial reaction to seeing Cas was a rush of thank god. And then he remembered everything and animosity won over. "I didn't ask for your help," he said in a voice made tight from what had just happened.

Cas was hurt and crestfallen by the rude statement. "Well, regardless, you're welcome," he said in a morose tone.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked, then let his voice swim in sarcasm. "Your wife doesn't wanna see you. And neither do I." He walked past Cas, brushing his shoulder into the angel's rudely as he did so. "I told you not to show your face around here anymore."

Cas turned to watch as Dean walked to the devil's trap and crouched to examine the smudged part. "I had no idea Crowley would take Lisa and Ben and the witch."

"Yeah right."

"You don't believe me," Cas said in a quiet, heartbroken way.

Dean looked back at the angel with cold humor playing on his face. "No. No I don't believe a word that's coming out of your damn mouth," he said, standing up and feeling so much hurt and anger that it threatened to claw him apart inside. He swallowed it down and stayed focused on the goal: Lisa, Ben, Jamie. "Where are they?"

Cas shook his head slightly, guiltily. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

"Please," Dean scoffed. Cas knew. Of course he knew! What was he playing at?

"I just saved your life, Dean," Cas pleaded quietly. "Isn't that worth something?" The puppy dog eyes he was giving were comparable to Sam's. "You said that we were like family. That you thought of me as a brother. Well I think that too. Shouldn't trust run both ways?"

Dean flattened his mouth into a thin line. Cas talking about trust was real rich. "Maybe it would have, but after what you've done… Cas, I just can't."

Cas approached slowly and spoke with so much emotion that he could have been a broken human man. "Dean, I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call, and I am your friend. I love your sister with everything inside of me. I have destroyed Heaven itself for her sake, I have given all I possess and more. Despite your lack of faith in me, your unkindness in the face of all I've done, and now your threats, I just saved you, yet again. Has anyone but your closest kin ever done more for you?" He had a point, and Dean knew it. "All I ask is this one thing."

"Trust your plan to pop Purgatory?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"I've earned that, Dean."

Dean scoffed. He had some nerve saying that. "No. I can't trust you. Won't trust you. Not after the stuff you did behind my back."

Cas's wounded exasperation increased. "Dean, I married your sister because I intended t—"

Bristling, Dean held up a finger as his features snapped into a deep glare. "Don't you even—" he started, then made himself take a second. "No. Not today. We are not talking about that." As far as Dean was concerned, he was going to act like it never happened. He was going to deny it until the day he died. It wasn't real and it shouldn't have happened.

Cas's jaw clenched and he fought off some clear frustration. He let the topic go but with great loathing. He expelled a heavy breath out of his nose. "I came here to tell you that I will find Lisa and Ben and the witch and I will bring them back safely," he said in a monotone, then paused for effect. "Please Dean. Stand behind me, the one time I ask."

"You're asking me to stand down?" Dean asked, eyebrows raising up.

"Dean." Cas's imploring eyes were completely vulnerable. "Would I mislead you?"

"Yes, and you did!" Dean yelled. "You have! Not just with one thing, but a bunch! 'Stand down'? That's the same damn ransom note that Crowley handed me, you know that, right?" He was seething. "Well no thanks. I'll find 'em myself. In fact, why don't you go back to Crowley and tell him that I said you can both kiss my ass." He turned around and walked off a couple steps, then turned around again and pointed at Cas with his index finger for emphasis. "And by the way, we ain't friends," he raged, trying to hurt Cas emotionally, trying to take back the way he'd felt about Cas and how he'd cared about him. "What I said about being brothers? Take it and shove it, 'cause I didn't mean it." Those were harsh words. Dean knew it and once they were out in the air, he regretted them a little. But what was done was done.

Cas looked like his world had been shattered but he said nothing, merely stood there in shocked hurt for a second and then he disappeared completely. Alone again, Dean shut his eyes and held his fist to his mouth. He was so upset over everything that had happened in the past couple of days that he hadn't slept, had endured constant stress heartburn, and was left feeling like everything had slipped out of his control. His head was pounding with a hunger headache and his stomach churned with adrenaline and despair.

He opened his eyes again and realized that he had completely exhausted his stockpile of demons. They were all dead. Lisa, Ben, and Jamie were out there somewhere and maybe being tortured or hurt. Reacting out of helpless rage, Dean grabbed and flung the chair the demon had been sitting in and it broke and sent tire parts clattering and rolling. That outburst accomplished nothing and Dean squeezed his eyes shut again, scrubbing a hand down over his face.

This was a waking nightmare.

---

An hour or so later, Alex was sitting out in the salvage yard on the hood of her car. She had her feet up on the hood and an arm thrown lazily around her knees. Dangling from in between her lips, another cigarette. She was basically chain smoking mindlessly, wrestling everything in her mind. She'd turned her phone off awhile ago after Cas kept texting and calling her. He'd left several awkward voicemails in which he asked her to forgive him, tried to explain things again (repeating himself, basically), waveringly declared his love. She hadn't been able to listen all the way through to any of the messages and had hit the off button when it got too intense.

She just needed to clear her mind now and get out from under his influence. She was trying to examine her love for him with a logical mind and a careful eye. Trying to dissect herself and pull everything apart and really understand how and when everything went wrong. Really, she'd been so hellbent on having a love story and trusting Cas that she'd overlooked some pretty telling things the past year. Did that make her stupid? What was love, anyway? What was it inside of her that was so inclined to him, so drawn to him, so needy of him? The more she thought about it and tried to rationalize, the more lovesick and depressed she got. She went over the past few days in her mind over and over, saw his grief and pain and felt her own and nothing had ever been worse than this present dilemma and this unknown future.

A gust of wind rustled her hair and Alex looked up in surprise, straightening up from her startled reaction. It wasn't who she thought it was going to be.

"Hello sweetie." Balthazar stood there giving her a wry smile. He took in the look on her face and smirked. "Not the angel you expected to see then, I'm guessing." He hesitated for show, indicating the place on the hood adjacent to her. "May I?" He sat down against the hood, apparently not interested in her consent.

Side-eying him pretty intensely, Alex watched as he crossed his ankles leisurely and folded his arms jauntily. "What are you doing here?" she asked suspiciously, cigarette forgotten between two fingers.

"Oh, I'm here to offer my congratulations to the happy couple," he said with a certain note of derisiveness. He turned his head and looked at her with thinly veiled skepticism. "Cas told me. Everything." Withering a little inside, Alex outwardly just made a face like she didn't care. She took a long drag and filled her lungs with smoke, slowly let it out. "Look, I'm not here to weigh in or give my opinion, though for the record, you two are batty," Balthazar said, gesturing loosely with one of his hands. He sighed and became marginally more serious. "I'm here because I need you to do something for me. You've got to talk your little puppy out of this Purgatory rubbish before it's too late." He paused, looking at her carefully. Faint confusion showed. "You do know how dangerous it is, don't you?"

There was a dark, uneasy feeling in her veins and her pulse picked up a little in anxiety. She fiddled with the cigarette nervously. "He doesn't tell me much." She looked at the angel sidelong, almost too afraid to ask. But she had to. "How dangerous?"

Balthazar chuckled and looked out into the yard then explained in an easygoing and light voice, as if he were commenting on the weather. "Well—Purgatory's full of millions of squicky clawed souls by my best guess. Souls that are much, much too powerful for dear old Cas to contain without, oh, you know. Exploding into a thousand itty little bits." Alex sat frozen in rising horror. Balthazar turned his head to look at her and he was suddenly lethally serious. "Tell him not to do this."

Alex's teeth clenched together and she stared hard at the cigarette in her fingers. Smoke rose in lazy tendrils. "I did. He won't."

Balthazar frowned slightly. "How persuasive were you?" Alex gave him a very telling and challenging look, one that spoke volumes without saying anything. It was the kind of expressiveness she used to rely on back in her silent days. I was very persuasive, you ass. She'd fucking begged Cas and used the failed pregnancy as one of the reasons why he should cut ties and get out while he could. But he was determined to do this thing. Christ, Cas. Balthazar seemed mildly taken aback and took a couple seconds to react. "Well, if he won't listen to you we're buggered, aren't we?" he asked as if he were thinking aloud. He looked at her again dubiously. "And you're… not on his side?" he prompted. "Not ultimate fangirl anymore?"

Alex shrugged hollowly. "I don't know." She took another drag from her cigarette and puffed the smoke out in a long, slow gust.

"Hmm," Balthazar commented sarcastically. "Well that's clear and uncomplicated."

He abruptly stood up then and looked down at the gravel beneath his feet, bent and picked up the biggest rock he could find. Alex hesitated and watched him nodding at the rock approvingly. "…What are you doing?" she asked, frowning deeply.

Balthazar gave her a cheeky grin and tossed the rock up then caught it again. "Going for a visit with your two Ken dolls." He then launched the rock into the closest angel ward covered window and disappeared from in front of Alex's eyes. She gaped at the broken glass, then stubbed out her cigarette and headed toward the house quickly.

---

In the dark kitchen, Sam poured himself another shot of whiskey. Normally he wouldn't, but… stressful times. The sound of glass breaking made him stand up straighter and turn around as his instincts flared. Standing there in the kitchen… Balthazar. "Drinking your feelings, Sam? I thought that was your brother's bag."

"How'd you get in here?" Sam asked, mentally cataloging where he thought his siblings were and where the nearest weapons might be. Just in case.

The angel chuckled. "Oh, I guess I just 'rock' like that," he said. Sam squinted. Was that supposed to be a joke? At the face Sam made, Balthazar's amusement ebbed. "No? Well, we need to talk."

Sam eyed him carefully. "Why?"

Balthazar sighed deeply. "Because—I know I'm gonna live to regret this—but I'm officially on your team. You bastards."

Sam wasn't convinced but said nothing except, "Wait here."

A few minutes later the Winchesters were all in the kitchen and Dean was the least convinced. "And we should believe you why?" he asked lowly, voice harsh with suspicion.

"Would you believe I had a shred of decency?"

Sam sat on the kitchen table with his arms folded. "No."

Balthazar feigned indignant shock. "Oh. That hurts." Sam raised his eyebrows, nonplussed. Balthazar dropped the act and rolled his eyes. "Okay, you're right. It's survival. You see, I asked Cas some questions and I disliked his answers. He seems awfully sure of himself for an angel who wants to swallow a million nuclear reactors. I mean, these things can get a bit Chernobyl, you know?" His face relaxed into an uneasy smile and he gestured at Alex, who was furthest back, leaned against the kitchen counter and looking vaguely sick. "Ah, I mean, we all know who the belle of the ball is here, don't we boys?" he asked. "And if she can't talk Cas out of his evil scientist plan, who can?"

Sam wanted straight answers. "What're you saying, Balthazar?"

"I agree with you, all right?" Balthazar was exasperated. "Cas, Crowley… they can't do this. It's too dangerous. Frankly I think my brother must be slightly out of his mind to attempt this at all, but…" his mouth shrugged downward in thought. "Well, maybe they're right."

"Who?" Dean asked in a hard, demanding voice.

"The angels," Balthazar said, as if that should have been obvious. "Most of them say he lost his marbles four years ago." The brothers frowned, not making the connection. Balthazar made it for them, looking at Alex pointedly. "You know… when he hit the un-mute button?" He shook his head, studying Alex with a certain kind of intrigue. "The things he does for you. I'll never understand it." He looked from Sam and Dean like he was looking for backup on his opinion. "She's not even that pretty."

Sam frowned. "Watch it."

Dean scowled. "Keep talkin', bozo," he challenged. "See where my foot ends up."

Balthazar looked at Dean and squinted. "Not sure if you're threatening me or making sexual advances. Either way… no thank you." If looks could have killed, Balthazar would have been struck dead by the glare Dean gave him for that. Balthazar sighed impatiently, disappointed no one thought him funny. "All right, all right, look. Whole reason why I'm here. I took the liberty of searching for your friends. Took a while. Crowley's a clever one."

Dean straightened up and his locked, crossed arms loosened. "You found them?" he asked, voice softening as hope rose on his face. "Are they all right?"

Balthazar hesitated. "The upside is yes, they're fine, and uh, the downside is no, I can't get them for you."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because Crowley's angel-proofed the whole bloody building. Didn't make any amateur mistakes like you lot. I guess he doesn't trust Cas."

Sam's eyebrows shrugged up briefly in an expression of chagrin. "Can't find many people who do anymore."

"Okay, well get us as close as you can," Dean said, ready to go and now.

"Sure," Balthazar agreed. "But then you're on your own."

Dean nodded. "No problem. Let's go."

Sam stood up, turned back to Alex. "All right, you sit tight here and we'll—"

"No," Dean suddenly said, making everyone look at him in confusion.

Sam looked like he had no idea what his brother was talking about. "'No'?"

"No," Dean repeated, then looked his sister dead in the eye and said it like his word was law. "Your friend is on the line here. Jamie's there 'cause of you. Just 'cause you're down in the dumps doesn't mean you get to sit this one out, you hear me?"

Sam protested. "Dean, come on, she's not in any shape to—"

"Are any of us?" Dean asked in rising ire. "Don't you think I feel like hell too?!" He let that question hang in silence for a second then pointed at Alex with a glare. "You don't get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. No special treatment, no me feeling sorry for you, no sidelining! This is too important and too big and I don't care how you feel! You do the job, you save the person you got into this mess, and you get your head in the damn game. Dad taught us all better than that!"

Alex's face was dark and stormy. She stood up with measure, staring at Dean hard the whole time. "Yeah? Well you don't get to tell me what to do like he did," she said lowly. "You're not my drill sergeant and you fucking remember that." She was hard to read past her anger, but there was some measure of grief hidden there beneath the cold fire. "I'm coming with you because you're right. Jamie's there because of me. But after this? I'm done with this life." A muscle in her jaw jerked. "I'm serious."

Dean's face tightened. He made no comment pertaining to what she'd just said. He just threw a dark glance around the room then looked back at his sister. "Get your jacket."

---

Twenty Minutes Later

Dean stole through the darkness with the demon blade in hand. The old abandoned warehouse that Crowley had stashed his people in was damp and dim and crawling with demons. He'd killed five so far. He was getting closer to where the hostages were, he could sense it.

Sam and Alex weren't with him. They family had split up upon entering the massive and maze-like compound, and Dean was honestly too riled up to concern himself with them right now. He was hellbent on saving the woman he loved, the boy he saw himself as the father to, and, of course, James, who had become his friend too, not just Alex's. He paused, hearing movement in the next room over. Then he heard Lisa's voice say something indistinct, and he went into kill mode.

---

Upstairs on the main level, they walked through the darkness in careful tandem together. Sam had a shotgun pulled into his shoulder and it was trained on the ground for safety, but his muscles were ready to yank it up high and shoot at a second's notice. Beside him Alex had her blade out and held tightly in a well-practiced reverse grip. They were ready for whatever was waiting there in the inky shadows. They hadn't found anything at all since splitting up, and the quiet was almost too quiet. They skirted along a wall and then froze at the same time, hearing a soft little sound, like a metal part off something had been jostled.

Turning around at the same time, they spotted the attacker at the exact same second. He was jumping down at them from a catwalk above. "Sam!" The twins pushed each other hard at the exact same instant, each trying to shove the other out of the way of danger, and the demon wielding a crowbar leapt down into the gap they'd just made by doing so. The twins made quick work of him. Not expecting to hit the ground, the demon lost his balance in the added momentum and was yanked up by Sam to be smashed in the face with the broad side of the shotgun, then stabbed to death by Alex's angel blade.

Sam shoved the corpse away and let it sag to fall on the ground. A little breathless, he looked around with darting, paranoid eyes. "Splitting up was a bad idea," he said softly even as Alex wiped the blade against the leg of her jeans and joined him in looking around with harrowed, suspicious eyes. Sam had a new urgency in his voice and he nodded back toward where they'd come from. "Come on." They hurried to find Dean. It wasn't hard. Once they reached the basement stairs, they could hear sounds of a fight and they broke into a run.

What they found when they burst into a small, drab room was not quite what they'd expected. Lisa Braeden was on the floor groaning and her temple was bleeding from a gash she appeared to have just sustained. Dean was crumpled against a far wall and wincing, trying to get up. The demon blade was nearby, discarded on the floor.

Not in restraints of any kind, Jamie and Ben stood together in the middle of the room, smiling calmly, chillingly. They looked up at the twins as if pleasantly surprised. "Oh, hello—here to join the fun?" Jamie asked, smiling in a way that didn't look like herself at all. Her jeans were slashed across one of the thighs inexplicably and blood ran out and down the leg of the fabric.

"More toys to play with," Ben commented, smiling the same way Jamie was. His youthful and boyish voice was too deep and too gleeful. He raised a hand. Sam shouted and went flying sideways even as Jamie waved a hand as if batting away an annoyance. Alex went crashing into a concrete wall where she hit shoulder first and crumpled down into a stunned heap.

"They're possessed," Dean groaned.

"No shit, dumbass," Ben hissed, approaching Dean who had just gotten to his feet. The oldest Winchester stared down at the demon possessing Ben with a face full of horror. "So what now?" Ben taunted. "Stab me with your knife? Hit me in the face? What, you won't hurt the kid? That's cute. Especially since he stays up some nights wondering why you pushed him around that one time… you were okay with roughing him up then, what about now?" He laughed at Dean's dismay. "He wishes you were his dad, you know that? It's hilarious. Who would want you as a father figure?"

"You shut your damn mouth," Alex growled from where she was picking herself back up. She began the exorcism chant and immediately, Ben lifted a hand and sent her flying back into a wall where she hit her head hard and passed out.

"Help him, Dean, oh my god, please!" Lisa sobbed. Jamie grabbed Lisa, yanking her to her feet, and put a knife to her throat as she held her and grinned sadistically. Lisa gave a few fearful choking sobs and Dean looked as though he were going to pass out at the impossible dilemma he was faced with.

"Please, don't hurt her, I'm begging you," he managed, holding out a hand to stay the demon. Beside Dean, Sam had gotten up and was standing there cautiously, weaponless, not sure what to do.

"Love it when you beg me, baby," the demon wearing Jamie taunted, then bit her lip and dragged the knife across Lisa's skin hard enough to leave a white mark. Lisa shut her eyes and kept crying loudly, fearfully.

"Ben…!" Lisa managed even as she gritted her teeth in pain at what Jamie was doing.

"Lady, cry all you want, but your kid is mine now," Ben said, smirking. His eyes snapped over black. "Get used to the view."

Dean swallowed. This was his worst nightmare. He was supposed to keep these innocent people safe, they were never supposed to get hurt because of him. Panicking, did the only thing he could think of. "L-let him go," he managed. "Take me instead."

Ben's face showed dramatic and touched emotion. "Awww!" He put a hand over his heart and made fun of Dean with the false, patronizing way he spoke. "My wittle black heart is melted by love!"

"It's adorable," Jamie chimed in, letting the knife she held trace lazy patterns against Lisa's neck.

"Why the hell are you possessing them?" Sam asked, voice trembling with anger and fear.

Jamie answered in a lazy and drawling voice. "Well, mostly for shit and giggles with the kid, but with this one… kinda had to. Can't have a witch on the loose and casting spells and messing everything up, can we?" She grinned, and her eyes were lifeless and malevolent. "And you wouldn't believe the funhouse in her brain. My god! Thirty-two years old and it's like a war veteran's mind in here. So much pain. I love it!" She laughed loudly and shrilly, enjoying the torment on Dean's face. "I could stay here forever."

Dean clenched his fists and stared at the demon. First things first. "Let Lisa go."

"Hm. Okay!" Jamie shoved with super human strength and Lisa cried out then hit against the nearby column and was knocked unconscious.

Dean had a small flask of holy water that he'd drawn out and using the distraction, he threw holy water into Jamie's face and she screamed, stumbling back as her face burned. Dean scooped up the demon blade and rushed her. Sam was thrown back and pinned in place by Ben when he tried to intervene and help his brother. Dean grabbed a wavering and stunned Jamie by the front of her jacket and shook the demon, hard. Her eyes were fully black and it alarmed Dean even further. "You get out of her, you black-eyed bitch!" he shouted, holding her at knife point.

For a minute, the demon did nothing, just got this questioning, knowing smile on her face. "Do it you coward," she goaded in a whisper, the increasingly twisted smile spreading across her face making her look absolutely insane. "Cut me open. Hit me!"

When Dean hesitated wretchedly and did nothing—this was Jamie, he couldn't—she drew back and hit him hard enough to make him spin and stumble back. He fell down onto all fours and Jamie kicked him hard in the side, making him groan and fall sideways, pant in pain. She stomped her heeled boot down onto his chest and looked down at him in superiority and intrigue. "You're a real piece of work, Winchester," she observed almost admiringly. Her eyes returned to normal, human appearance. "Won't touch me when I'm inside a body you know, but I bet if I was in a stranger's meatsuit you'd be singing a whole different song."

Dean thought he knew a song she might like. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—" he began, and Jamie's face showed abrupt rage. She crouched over him, grabbed him by the jacket collar, and punched him. His vision exploded with white-hot pain. Blind for a second, flailing, he kept talking. He heard Ben somewhere nearby groaning, the demon inside of him protesting the command to leave. "Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—"

"Stop that!" Jamie hissed, hitting him in the face again hard. He kept going through a mouthful of blood, and Jamie began to heave and writhe oddly. She stood and stumbled back as he kept on. Her back hit up against a table of tools and Dean stood shakily, his words his weapon. In the corner, Ben had fallen down and the demon was losing control over him. And just when Dean thought he was about to gain the upper hand, Jamie's hand found a long, rusted knife on the table and without warning, she raised it high and plunged it into her lower stomach.

Dean stopped mid-sentence and stared with wide, shocked eyes. No. Jamie yanked the knife out and challenged him silently. Now what? her cruel expression seemed to ask. Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut as he looked at the blood spot that bloomed on Jamie's torso. "You bitch," he breathed, horrified.

Jamie shrugged, tossed the knife away casually. "What? She's dead anyway, knife in her spleen or otherwise. Why not stop delaying the inevitable?" Dean's expression prompted Jamie to laugh. "What, you don't know? This little blonde slut's counting down the days until the Hellhounds come calling." What? Gleeful, Jamie wiggled her eyebrows. "Sold her soul for the wrong guy and now there's hell to pay!" Dean stared, face gone slack. Oh no. Jamie nodded in pretend sympathy. "And she's so scared, Dean," the demon said, and for a minute it could have actually been Jamie speaking. "So, so scared. So, so alone." She flashed a sudden grin and sauntered over, leaned in close, her voice dropping to a sensual whisper. "So imagine when you exorcise me and she wakes up covered in her own blood and bleeding out to a slow and painful death that you caused." She clapped her hands together and rubbed vigorously. "Mm! I love sadistic endings!" She sauntering around the room and chuckled to herself, twirling a lock of blonde hair around a finger lazily. Ben had Sam stuck in place again and Dean looked around, realizing he was out of help and out of options. What the hell did he have left? He had to save who he could.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jamie asked, enjoying his dismay.

"You shut your damn mouth," he choked out, knowing that he was about to kill Jamie Ward purposefully.

There was another slow, long smirk at that remark and Jamie came back toward him. "You wish I would, don't you?" she asked, then let her eyes drop to his chest and lower, leering at him leisurely in a way that made Dean uncomfortable. "Oh and while we're on awkward confessions…" Jamie stuck a finger into Dean's chest and trailed it downward slowly and enticingly, making Dean's muscles stiffen. "She likes you. Really really likes you." The demon possessing her smirked and leaned close, her finger hitting the top of his pants and pausing. "Do you think your little Botox babe over there'll be jealous?" She leaned closer, her breath hitting Dean's lips, her nose grazing Dean's nose. Her finger traced even lower, down over the zip of his jeans. Her touch made Dean shut his eyes, look away, and clench his jaw. She chuckled throatily and then took a couple steps backwards. "You're pathetic."

He was, and he knew that. He steeled himself for what had to happen. "One thing I wanna know," Dean managed. Jamie looked expectant and pleased and waited for him to ask. Dean hesitated, not sure if he wanted the answer. "What did Samuel Campbell do to her?"

Jamie looked taken aback and mildly confused, like something wasn't compatible or she didn't understand the point of the question. "Wait. You actually care about this pile of issues stapled together with blonde hair and tattoos?" Dean said nothing and Jamie's wicked smile was back. "Well. What that old man made her do is stuff they'd show on prime time news, sweetie."

Dean swallowed thickly, looking at the demon and only seeing Jamie. She didn't deserve what she'd gotten and he wished like hell she hadn't ever gotten involved with his family—all it had done was screw her over and fuck her up. And now he had to kill her by exorcising that demon and letting her die from the stab wound. Maybe dying this way would be better than being ripped to shreds by Hellhounds. But Hell would be the same, and that's where she was headed and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. But especially not her. He thought of an annoying bratty little teenage girl who had gotten upset when he stole M&Ms from a vending machine and who hid his jacket during school one day just to see how mad he'd get. He thought of the glimpses of a truly strong woman he'd seen recently and the pain he knew she carried—he carried the same and identified. And very last of all, he admitted to himself that despite how crazy it was—witch or not—the two of them might have had something under different circumstances. But unless there was some crazy miracle, Jamie Ward was already dead and all those possibilities and moments added up to nothing but death. He was just driving the nails into her coffin. And damn if it didn't always seem to end this way. Him, at fault for another innocent's death. "I'm so sorry, James," Dean managed in the softest whisper. And then he continued the exorcism in a forced voice, holding her gaze the entire time. "Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura—"

Jamie faltered, coughed, gritted her teeth, and lost strength in her legs.

"No!" Sam shouted behind Dean, and he turned, confused about what Sam was protesting.

And then he saw and was horrified. Ben had the knife Jamie had tossed aside and it was plunged into his torso. The boy smiled up at Dean, whose world was shattered and whose voice was gone. "Keep going, Dean," Ben's taunted, and Dean couldn't. So Sam finished for him amidst Ben and Jamie's raging snarls of "no!" and "stop!"

"Ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

Black smoke screamed out of both their mouths and they both collapsed at the same time. Dean ran to Ben, scooping his small teenage body up and holding him tight, slapping him lightly in the face. "Ben! Ben!" The kid was moaning in pain, his eyes were glassy and distant, and Dean pulled him closer, getting Ben's blood all over himself. "Stay with me! You stay with me goddammit!"

---

Several Hours Later

The hospital in St. Louis had two new stab wound patients who went into emergency surgery as soon as they were brought in. Despite the doctor's best efforts, the injuries sustained were fatal and both patients were put on life support. They would probably not survive the night.

Lisa Braeden paced the hall just outside of Ben's room, and she was a hysterical mess. Her child was laying in a coma and she had been told to alert family members to come say final goodbyes. He was covered in tubes and wires and hooked up to countless machines. He looked very small in that hospital bed. Still covered in blood and riddled with injuries of her own, Lisa was berating Dean, who took it silently, not denying anything she said. "My son is dying because of you, dying! Because of the mess you said would never touch us, because of who you are!" Out of breath, Lisa was wild with grief. "You said you'd protect us! You ruin everything your goddamn hands touch! He's dying and it's your fault!" She threw her hand out toward her child and looked at Dean through eyes glittering with angry, desperate tears. "Fix him!"

Dean wished to god he could. "I can't."

Lisa set her jaw and looked at him in clear hatred. She nodded and her face was screwed up hard. "Tell me how to sell my soul."

Panic and shock seized Dean's heart. "Lees, no—" he started loudly and firmly because that would never happen.

Lisa grabbed him in uncharacteristic volatile outburst. "Tell me! He is not dying, do you hear me? I don't care what I have to do!"

A sudden arrival cut her off. "Hello Dean. Lisa." Cas had walked up behind them. Not materialized out of thin air. Walked up like a normal person.

Dean stiffened. This was the guy who he blamed for what had happened, partly. "Cas now isn't a good time," he said curtly, trying to hide his distress and not doing the best job.

Cas's eyebrows moved in together a little like he was confused. "Your sister called me. I'm here to help." Dean saw Alex then. She was peering out of the doorway to Jamie's room just down the hall and watching with a focused, tense expression.

The angel proceeded into Ben's room and Lisa, who didn't really know who he was, followed closely, protective of her defenseless and dying son. "Who are you?" she demanded, then panicked as Cas laid a hand onto Ben's head. "What are you doing?"

Cas stood back and looked at her somberly. "Healing your son." She blinked a few times, looked at Dean, then back at Cas. "He's fine now," Cas said heavily, his eyes on Dean. "He'll wake soon."

Lisa seemed doubtful and hopeful all at once and watched her son with a gaunt expression. "W-will he remember? Being possessed?"

Dean swallowed. That was the kind of stuff that could ruin a kid's life and mind, remembering that stuff. He looked at the angel cautiously, hopefully. "Cas… you… you think you can take care of that?" he asked.

Cas frowned in mild confusion. "You want me to wipe his memory of today?"

Dean shook his head. He felt sick, but he knew this was the right thing. Or maybe it was the selfish thing. He didn't know anymore. "No," he murmured, looking at Ben and remembering so many moments that had made him happy and content. Ben looking up to him, respecting him, always wanting him around. "Not just today," Dean said through a tight throat. "I want you to take me out completely. Just… whitewash it all."

Castiel didn't bother to hide his surprise, but Lisa stared hard at Dean and then looked at Cas, who was apparently waiting for a second opinion. "Do it," she said in a low, gruff voice. And that was the stake in Dean's heart, the final rejection, the evidence of hatred. But he accepted it. By now, he should be used to broken dreams.

Cas hesitated, then did what he'd been asked, touching Ben's head again. "It's done," he said grimly, then drew back. Lisa sat down beside her son and stroked his hand, watching his face for any movement at all. Cas approached Dean and spoke in a soft voice meant only for them to hear. "Dean, I said I'm sorry and I meant it," he said. He had the demeanor about him of a man who hadn't slept in far too long and had been pushed way past his limits. Haggard, he glanced back at Ben and Lisa. "I didn't want this to happen. For what it's worth, I told you not to get involved."

Dean disliked that statement and grimaced a smile out. "Yeah, well, you know me," he said in a terse voice. Even though he was so angry at Cas and what had happened that he could spit, Cas had done the right thing and Dean forced himself to acknowledge that. If it weren't for Cas, Ben would be dead right now. "Thank you. For saving him. I wish this changed anything."

Cas's hurt gaze flickered around Dean's face. "Why doesn't it?"

"Can't go along with what you're doing, man," Dean said in a tough, untouched voice. "Just can't."

Nodding despite his clearly betrayed feelings, Cas accepted Dean's refusals. "And I cannot change my course of action. Very well. The line has been drawn in the sand, as the expression goes. If you change your mind, pray to me."

Dean stood straighter, caught Cas by the arm. "Wait. Jamie. She's… she's next door." And no better off than Ben had been.

"I already healed her," Cas said. "She'll be fine."

Thank god. Dean nodded wordlessly, his shoulders sagging in relief. He should have said thank you, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. A silent and tense moment spanned between the man and the angel, and then the angel walked off, no doubt to go pester Alex, but Dean was so tired and upset about Lisa and Ben that he couldn't summon any brotherly fire at the moment. He watched Cas go then looked back at Lisa, who was watching him with a hard, hateful expression.

She stood slowly, purposefully, and he could see how angry she was. "If I ever see your face again after today," she began in a low and threatening tremble, "I will take the gun you gave me and shoot you." Dean stood there with a broken heart and total understanding of where she was coming from. "Get out. Now."

And then there was a sharp inhale nearby and Ben stirred, eyes opening wide in surprise. He looked around with slightly panicked and dazed eyes. "Mom? W-what happened? Where are we?" he asked, sitting up and staring at all the tubes in his arms with confused fear.

Lisa sat with him, soothed him, rubbed his arm. "There was a car accident, honey," she lied. "You hit your head. Doctor says you have some kind of temporary amnesia."

Ben gaped at her and took in the multiple injuries she'd sustained. His young face twisted up in worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, forgetting his own condition. "You have so many cuts…!"

Lisa smiled and her eyes flooded with tears and she hugged him tightly. "I'm okay 'cause you're okay," she whispered, eyes shut tight.

Ben caught sight of Dean and looked at him without any trace of recognition. "Who's this guy?" he asked, and Lisa faltered.

"Detective Smith," Dean supplied, and he died slowly inside as he lied out of his ass to the kid who had, just once, accidentally called him 'dad' one night. "Just dropped by to ask a few questions for the traffic incident report," he said. "You, uh, you get to feeling better young man." His voice broke slightly and he wished he'd never darkened these people's doorstep. For their sake and also for his. "Take care of your mom."

Ben seemed to think he was a little weird and Lisa held her son tightly, looking at Dean levelly. "I meant what I said, Detective," she said in a civil voice. But her eyes were sharp and dangerous.

Dean pretended to be amused, but it fell pretty flat. "No worries, Miss Braeden. This is the last you'll see of me."

---

As Dean went into Jamie's room and shut himself in there with her still-unconscious self, Sam went to find them a car for the inevitable journey home. Balthazar had left them a few states over from the Impala, after all.

Alex sat in the mostly deserted hallway and Cas had sat down next to her a moment ago after healing Ben. He had his hands clasped between his knees and neither had said anything yet. When he finally spoke, his voice startled her. "I tried calling you." He frowned down at the floor in hurt confusion. "Texting you. I received no replies." He looked at her in questioning.

"I know." She was looking ahead of herself quietly. "I got your messages."

Cas visibly tried to decide what that meant. "You're… ignoring me?"

Alex swallowed heavily, her mind on what Cas's friend had said to her a few hours ago. To her, there was something a little more important than their relationship right now. Cas's safety and life, as well as the fate of the freaking planet. "Balthazar said it's really dangerous."

Cas's face clouded over and darkened measurably, almost angrily. "You spoke with him but you won't speak with me?"

Alex looked at him pointedly, challenging him to talk to her like that again. "Yeah." She paused. "You can't don't this, Cas. I won't let you."

"I've told you," Cas said, seeming tired of repeating himself. "I have to defeat Raphael, and there is no other conceivable way. Why won't any of you believe me?" The angel was utterly confounded. He sat back a little and Alex saw how he was beginning to become indignant and mildly incensed the more times they had this conversation. He wasn't meek and sad and crestfallen anymore. He was frustrated and betrayed and angry. "I have begged you," he said in a low, rough voice. "I have pleaded with you and you won't listen to me or give me a chance." For a moment, his anger lessened into wounded incredulity. "I don't understand how you can continue to doubt me after what I've done and the sacrifices I've made," he said, then "Alex, I just healed your friends. I gave you your voice, I defied Heaven, I was wounded and beaten and cut down, all for you. And I would do it again! I would do whatever you would ask of me."

Alex had tears gathering in her eyes and she appealed to him one last time. He would do whatever she asked? She put that to the test and hoped to god he would come through. "Don't do what you're doing."

He faltered. "Except that." At the way she made a face like she should have known better, Cas's face became unreadable and gaunt. "I know what I'm doing, Alex."

No, he didn't. Or he did, and was okay with losing her over it. She stood up and made herself be inscrutable and flat. "Well whatever it is you're doing, you're doing it alone."

Cas stood too. "Alex—"

She turned on him angrily. "You don't get it Cas! You let me down so hard! You destroyed the trust I had in you! You strung me along, you scammed me. You're endangering the entire planet to try and save me…?! I don't want innocent people paying the price for me living and breathing, okay? You had a million chances to come clean and tell me instead of waiting for us to find out. And because of that… because of all of it…" she heard herself saying the words Dean had said to her a few days ago. "It has to be over." Digging deep for strength to follow through, she wished she could take it all back and undo the hurt that had befallen them both because of their ill-advised and failed love story. Her voice constricted with the threat of tears. "And I am so sorry it ended like this."

It would have been better if she had never met him or heard his name or known him at all. She turned and walked away from him before he could say anything else. Cas stood there with a stung expression, fighting feelings of anger and torment and disbelief and despair. He had told himself that even if she never reciprocated his feelings again he would understand. But now that she was actually acting that way and he realized he was truly losing her, he couldn't accept that. He stewed silently, debating with himself in how to convince her, how to win her back, how to make her see. The greater the tension became between them, the more an inward obsession to prove himself grew.

---

Dean sat in the silent hospital room with an unconscious Jamie. He was in a chair near the bed and had his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. Inside, he was drowning in an ocean of regrets, guilt, and shame. He often thought about what he'd do if he had the chance to do life over again. So much blood on his hands. So many hurt people and broken lives. He mentally added Lisa and Ben to that godforsaken pile that was constantly growing. He remembered when Lisa used to smile and run to him when she would see him, he remembered when Ben said he wanted to be like Dean when he grew up. And now Lisa hated him and Ben didn't remember. He was never gonna see them again. And goddamn, it fucking hurt.

Jamie stirred just then, opening up her eyes, drawing in a deep, disoriented breath. Dean lifted his head up. "What the…" she muttered, disconcerted for the moment as she took in her IVs and hospital bracelet and then her silent, drawn companion. "W-what happened?"

Dean tried not to show his actual state of mind. By now he was an expert at hiding true feelings, but today was hard. "Let's just say you've been touched by an angel," he joked badly. She sat up slowly and looked at him with a look like huh? on her face. He sobered. "You remember what happened today?"

Her light blue eyes scanned in thought as her brow remained knit. "Bits and pieces." Her eyes came up and rested on the huge shiner that was developing on the side of his face. She seemed to remember that her fist was the reason why that injury was there. "Did I… did I do that?" He shrugged and she cringed a little. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, because he could care less about a few physical injuries. "You hit like a champ."

Jamie regarded him uncertainly, then her expression shifted to concern. "Wait, I remember…" she trailed off. "Where's the kid and his mom? They okay?"

At the mention of them Dean forced a little smile, trying not to alert her to the fact that everything was wrong. "They're… yeah. They're probably gone by now. Didn't like the hospital food."

Jamie saw straight through him though. Maybe she guessed what happened. Maybe he was just that transparent. Either way, she didn't join him in joking around. Instead she just looked at him in this soft, sad, empathetic way that said she understood, and was sorry.

Her eyes, despite being so quiet and understanding, were so intense that he almost got up and walked away to avoid how they made him feel. And then without thinking, he found himself mumbling at the floor. "They were my one shot at normal. And I fucked that up because of course I did." He breathed in heavy, lost in memories and guilt. "They almost died 'cause of me." He looked up at Jamie. "You almost died 'cause of me. And that kid, Ben, he felt like my kid. And now... he doesn't even know who I am." Jamie's face registered confusion and Dean gestured vaguely then let a hand slap down onto his knee. "Cas wiped me outta his memories."

Jamie's lips parted softly in growing incredulity. "Why would he do that?"

Dean wished he hadn't started this conversation now. "'Cause I asked him to." Jamie's expression showed that she was thrown off. But Dean had other topics in mind. He peered up at her with a tense expression. "When were you gonna tell me?"

Jamie became more visibly apprehensive. A fraction mistrustful. "Tell you what?"

"About your soul deal." Her face fell and her color lessened. "The demon possessing you had a lot to say," he explained.

She was perplexed and startled and maybe even offended at his question, shaking her head in vast confusion, swallowing nervously, cagily. "Why would I tell you about that?" she asked in a murmur made of confusion.

That was a good question. And his quiet, automatic, honest answer surprised them both. "...Because we're friends." Something softened on Jamie's face, and the way it made Dean feel was irritating. "I mean, if we ain't friends, what are we?" he asked, overcompensating for his vulnerability with gruffness. He refocused on his initial question and was brusque. "What, you gonna act like you don't care? Like selling your soul's no big deal?"

His tone caused her gentle expression to turn to a shield of steel. Her gaze silently challenged him for a long moment before she spoke low, cool, and measured. "The way I deal with my fate is mine to decide." At the scoffing look on Dean's face, she grew even more guarded and sharp. "Everyone has to die eventually, Dean—we're both adults here, I would've thought you got the concept of mortality by now." Her eyes fell away and her jaw clenched.

Dean didn't for one second believe this was truly how she felt. Not for one fucking second. She was dodging. "How long you got?" he pressed. He knew that she knew the hours, seconds, days.

But she defied him by looking straight into his eyes and lying. "Don't remember."

Dean expelled a heavy breath out of his nose. "Dammit, Jamie…" he complained, fed up with everything.

Mystified and conflicted, the blonde regarded him in total befuddled hesitation. "Why?" she asked. "Seriously. Why does this matter to you?"

He threw his hands up a little, unprepared to answer that. "Because… I dunno, maybe I can help you!" He wasn't entirely sure why it mattered so much to him.

"Help me," she repeated, confusion doubling. He just held her gaze hard, letting his authenticity be known. And that seemed to quiet her a little. Set her off balance. She took a beat. "No one gets out of a soul deal. We both know that." There was a deep, hidden sadness that Dean latched onto.

Yes he knew all about soul deals. However, he felt personally insulted and angry at her fake apathy. "You really gonna take it laying down like that?"

Defensive impatience began to build in her icy eyes and in her tone. "What can I do, Dean? What are you suggesting, huh?" Her tone seemed to suggest it was absurd. "Fight it?"

"Yes!" Dean retorted. She looked at him like he'd lost his mind and he was so agitated because of everything that had happened that day that he began to get mean. He knew how to bully the truth out of people and it was second nature by now. "Do you wanna die or something?"

Jamie didn't react like he'd thought. She remained composed and strangely blasé. "Not really," she admitted evenly, wetting her lips slowly as she looked off into space with a tense expression. "Who does? But that doesn't change anything. And I've made my peace with what's gonna happen." Cracks began to show in the armor. "There's nothing here for me, Dean. I don't have a family—they're all dead and or psychopaths." She paused, and her expression flickered. "Maybe I'm one too. And I'd rather not live long enough to find that out." Dean softened a little—he'd never thought she might feel that way. She swallowed and it was visibly painful. Her eyes were starting to show the emotion he knew she felt. "The way I see it, I do what I can with the time I have left. And I don't sit around feeling sorry for myself." She looked at him then and he could tell she wanted that to be the end of the conversation. "Everyone dies. It's just a fact of life."

It sounded nice. But he didn't buy it for a second. "Jamie…" Dean appealed, and her nostrils flared slightly.

She cut him off in a slightly harder voice. "Look—I know we connected a little when you took me back to my car, but this is none of your fucking business, okay?" Her tone wavered into something more vulnerable. "I appreciate you caring, but there's nothing you can do, Dean. There's nothing anyone can do. So leave it alone." Her eyes looked into his and he saw real emotion there, real desperation. "The last thing I need is hope." She paused, not for effect. She paused to keep herself together. She swallowed and kept insisting a lie was the truth. "I'm okay with what's gonna happen."

"That's not what that demon possessing you said," Dean said quietly.

Her eyes cut to his sharply. "Demons lie," she retorted in a voice that was close to a snap. "Leave me alone about this, please, goddamn." She began looking around for an escape at the monitor and her IVs—but before she could flee, Dean began a new approach.

He remembered all too well what she was going through. He'd been a walking tornado inside when his year ticked down and he'd needed someone to confide in. Who the hell did she have to lean on right now? No one. It made his heart hurt a little, thinking about what she must be going through. "I know what it's like," he said softly, and helplessly, she was drawn in to listen to what he said, hanging on his words while trying to look like she wasn't. "Waking up every day, knowing you got one less sunrise to go until it's all over. I know how you know exactly how much time you got left. I know it consumes your every damn thought. I know you've looked and looked to try and find a way out, even though you say you haven't." Every single sentence he said seemed to make her eyes shinier and her expression more vulnerable. "Sold my soul too, dunno if you know that or not. Paid up, and somehow here I am. So maybe you're not a lost cause, huh?"

She considered it for an agonized moment. Then she shut it down and shook her head no. "I know what I am. And lucky isn't it." She looked out the window, face a mask of pain.

It wasn't his business but he asked anyway. He couldn't stop himself—the demon had said she sold it for a guy. "Who'd you sell it for, James?"

A self-deprecating little smile pulled at the edge of her mouth. Eyes that were pained despite the smile plastered on her face traveled to look at him, shining bravely. "He wasn't worth it, let's just leave it at that." There were unspoken oceans of feelings he could hear veiled in her words. Compassion and empathy surged strong.

Dean hesitated, then on instinct reached out and cautiously, carefully covered her hand with his. A silent gesture he wasn't really sure of but did anyway. She stiffened slightly but didn't move or reject the touch. In fact, the skin of his hand against the skin of hers seemed to break her down more than anything else had. For a minute, her features worked oddly as she looked at his hand on hers. Then vulnerable eyes raised to look into his. "What happened to you hating witches?" she whispered, hopeful and worried alike to hear his answer.

Dean felt the tiniest sad smile on his face. How could he explain it, even to himself? "Met one who changed my mind," he settled on quietly. Saying it out loud felt more telling than it had felt in his mind, and for a minute, something invisible grew and shifted between them.

And then Jamie answered what he wanted to know, surprising him completely. "Less than two years," she confessed quietly, then her eyes dropped away. "That's all I got left." Her face kept working hard to maintain composure, but her eyes were tellingly glistening and her voice grew thick. "So my life has to matter. It has to mean something. It has to fix some of the wrongs my family put out into the world." Dean felt respect and affection growing for her. Jamie tried not to show it, she didn't like attention or the spotlight but he saw it clearly: She had a heart of gold. "If I can do that… if I can make my time count…" she raised her chin bravely and put on a smile that was meant to be accepting and dignified. "Then I'll be glad to see those Hellhounds come."

It was a courageous thing to say. But he remembered snarls and claws and skin ripping off his bones—he remembered the fiery pit of Hell and all the nightmares that came with it. Imagining that happening to her made him feel sick and he shook his head no, his resistant feelings unmasked on his face. But Jamie nodded her head a silent resolute yes, and then hesitated... and turned her hand upward to hold his briefly, lacing fingers through tentatively. An action that surprised Dean and made his heart swell. Emotion she clearly warred against swam in her eyes, and Dean squeezed her hand gently, wishing... well, he didn't know what. She squeezed back, and the familiarity and openness of the moment was not lost on him.

"I'm really sorry about Lisa and Ben, Dean," she offered quietly. Her thumb did the smallest little brush against his hand, so small he might have imagined it.

Dean smiled in soft bittersweet sorrow, looking at his rough calloused hand holding her much nicer, fairer one. It would hurt awhile, he was sure. However, he'd survive. "It is what it is." He met her eyes again. "But thanks."

James was quiet for a beat, then surprised him with the sort of playful but very earnest way her eyes studied him. The whisper of a smile on her mouth. "Just trying to be a good friend." Now, it was Dean's turn to feel something soften. He never would have figured himself liking and respecting a witch. Or calling one friend. Yet here he was. She held his gaze steadily, seeing into a part of him he kept hidden, or thought he did anyway. "I know what it's like to watch a dream collapse," she told him carefully, trying to offer him the same kindness he'd offered her. She was better at it than he'd been. "This life really sucks sometimes."

Dean had to wonder what his siblings would think if they walked in and saw the two of them holding hands like that and he squeezed and let go, even though he didn't really want to. "It ain't for the weak of heart, I'll tell you that much."

Jamie was soft. Tender almost. Her gaze studied him in a way it hadn't quite before. "Knowing someone else gets it does help." And Dean nodded, pretty sure his gaze was doing the same thing hers was. Then he watched Jamie visibly realize she was being too vulnerable for her own liking. She cleared her throat, thinned her mouth into a wan smile, and set to work on unhooking herself from all the IVs that were now useless.

---

Outside on the front steps of the hospital, Alex sat on the top stair and bit her fingernails. Her eyes were red from crying, but she'd made herself stop. Her thoughts were consumed with Cas and everything that had happened. To have loved so deeply meant a bitter end, she guessed. That stupid quote she'd read before 'it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all' was bullshit. If she'd never loved, she could have saved herself so much pain and grief and this hole in her heart that was tearing her apart.

She had meant what she said to her brothers about quitting this life. She just didn't think she had it in her anymore or if her actions even mattered. She wanted a clean slate. Or maybe she just wanted anything but this hell she was living in.

Beside her, a pair of feet suddenly appeared and startled, Alex jumped up to stand. Cas stood there and he looked severe. In fact, the look on his face was so strange that Alex backed up a few steps toward the glass doors of the hospital. Her heart had rocketed upwards in alarm at his appearance and it wasn't slowing down. "Cas, what—"

"It's not over," he said in a fatal monotone. "I am going to prove myself to you." He stepped toward her.

Alex backed up again, red alarms blaring. The look on his face was alien, or from a time before he had felt many emotions. "What are you doing?" she asked, thinking surely she had him all wrong.

He shook his head with grim finality. "You've left me no choice, Alex." He stepped closer. "You're coming with me."

---

Dean and Sam were walking together up the main hall in quiet and tense conversation. Up ahead, they saw Alex with Cas through the glass doors of the hospital entrance. "Son of a bitch, he just won't quit," Dean muttered in vague annoyance, shaking his head and sighing deeply.

Sam was also a little peeved. "Yeah, needs to learn to take the hint alre—" both brothers came up short when they saw Cas abruptly step into Alex's space and grab her by the upper arm in what was clearly a forced touch. Without warning, the angel and Alex both disappeared out of sight. It was hard to say who broke into a run first, but Dean got to the door first and shoved it open, looked around the immediate area with wide and panicked eyes.

"Alex! Cas? Cas! Alex!" he shouted. No one was around, and the angel wasn't there. Neither was their sister.

"W-what just happened?!" Sam asked, turning in a quick circle as his face quickly became a mask of sickened alarm.

Dean's worst nightmare had been realized, and every fear they had ever said was irrational about Cas had just been proved otherwise. "H-he took her," Dean said, and it looked like he was about to have a panic attack. "He… he just took her!"