Song Remains the Same

Chapter 96 / Enemy of My Enemy

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from their point of view."
- Harper Lee

She laid beside him in the hospital bed as police lights from the outside world danced in through the window and across the dim, vague shapes of the bare, quiet room. Sam and Dean had left twenty minutes ago and it was sinking in: she had chosen to stay here with Cas—she had chosen to step out of the familiar and the known. The future was totally up in the air, and Cas was seemingly gone all over again. In effect… she was alone and watching over someone who was probably not coming back.

Castiel was alive, yes, but unresponsive. Eyes shut, breathing slow and barely perceptible, he laid on the bed flat on his back with limbs straight and stiff. Before he'd done what he had to fix Sam, he'd basically said a final goodbye. Again. Curled into his side, watching his face in the darkness, Alex was glad no one was there to see the pain she felt on her own face. Love shouldn't hurt this much. That was one of the last things she'd truly said to him before he yet again disappeared from right in front of her eyes. She loved him for healing Sam and saving his life. But she also remembered that he was the one who had broken her brother in the first place.

The red and blue lights droned on and on from the outside world, illuminating Cas's unmoving face, putting Alex in a trance. She knew the police were out there because some poor sap had stumbled upon all of the dead demons she and her family had left scattered across the back of the hospital. Her family left a wake of crime scenes wherever they went—that was nothing new. But usually, they didn't stick around to see the cops try and clean up the mess they'd made.

I wonder if we've saved more people than we've killed. Is this even worth it at the end of the day?

For as strong as she'd been feeling just yesterday, Alex felt like she was right back at the bottom of the abyss again. All she wanted was to stop feeling like the ground underneath her feet was about to be snatched away. Was that really too much to ask? Or did she need to accept that things were always, inevitably going to get worse? Was it some huge, divine test? Feelings of numbness and utter emotional fatigue made it hard for her to know how to react internally. It was so ironic, so like fate itself was out to sabotage her in every way imaginable… she remembered how Castiel and herself had been on a bed together three years ago, but how then had been so different than now…

Three Years Ago
April 30th, 2010

Naked, flushed, and tired in the best of ways, Cas and Alex rested tangled closely together. Only a breath's distance apart, they were saying nothing of the brightening morning outside their motel room or the fact that they really needed to eat the breakfast Cas had brought and then head back to Bobby's to face reality. They were both trying to hold onto this warm, soft, close atmosphere they had created, this rare and precious instance in time when they were together and free to be that way. Yesterday was burning bright in both of their hearts and minds—the day they had married secretly in the face of the apocalypse. Cas traced fingers through Alex's still-damp hair from her earlier shower, his mouth resting against her forehead as she laid with him and stroked her thumb thoughtfully against the warm skin of his side where her hand rested. His breathing was deep and soothing, his physical closeness made her feel safer and more whole than she could remember feeling ever before in her entire life. And that feeling terrified her because she recognized how easily it could be taken from her.

Alex lifted her head and Cas drew back, she looked into his eyes—hazel meeting azure. "Just promise me something," she said in a whispered request that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Cas's reply was immediate, his eyes grew concerned. "Anything," his husky, deep murmur answered. There was a fierceness to him in the way. Like he would die for her, give her the world, sacrifice anything.

She hesitated for a very long moment, her feelings of vulnerability making her almost too apprehensive to ask at all. "Stay with me," she whispered, so afraid that he wouldn't. Not forever, even despite yesterday's vows and promises. "Even when it's hard. Even when we don't know what to do."

Castiel's features showed a confusion and tenderness all at once. His hand came to the side of her face as his eyes flickered back and forth between hers. "You are my anchor in this world, Alex," he murmured, sending warmth flushing her head to toe. "…How could I ever leave you?" His voice conveyed genuine puzzlement about how she could think that at all. He studied her face with soft eyes which held all of the heart and soul he denied having. "Sometimes I think my entire existence has been leading up to this," he whispered. "To you." He contemplated her and he loved her, it was so obvious. Like a magnet, he was drawn to her and his nose brushed her cheek as he leaned in to give her a kiss, slow and reverent, his thumb caressing her cheek sweetly. He took over every sense she possessed when he did that—her entire world became the feel of his lips, the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his arms, the truth in his touch, the fire he created inside. When he drifted back, their eyes met in breathless silence—he didn't go far from her at all. "I would wait all over again," he confessed, so severely earnest. "I would wait ten thousand centuries, ten thousand millennia if it meant I would end up here with you."

Alex didn't know how to reply. It was enough to bring anyone to their knees, it was enough to render her mind-boggled for the rest of her life that anyone, much less a creature from Heaven, could love her like Castiel did. "I just don't know what I ever did to make you fall in love with me," she said softly, choking slightly on the emotions lumping in her tight chest. Her eyes began to shine as they searched his. She felt very small in that moment. "I'm scared it's not real."

He touched his forehead to hers, his fingers tracing the side of her face. His rough, deep voice rumbled into her when he spoke, that's how close they were. "It's real," he told her. And she had been left no choice on earth but to believe him, kiss him, and remain overwhelmed by her love for him.

That was then.

And things had changed.

Alex reached down and gently took one of his hands and pulled it up into both of hers as she curled further into his side. It had been real. It had been innocent, pure, and untainted before all of the mistakes and betrayals, all of the lies and the suffering, all of the separations and situations that no one could erase from existence. The two of them seemed so young to herself back then. Young and bright-eyed and stupid.

Now they were hurt and broken beyond repair. Was it love, what they shared? Or was it addiction, was it fear of being alone, was it codependency? Asking herself those questions triggered a deeply distressed response. No. I love him. He loved me. And it was too much for us to know how to handle. It was the kind of love that you read about in stories that destroys lives and burns cities and consumes the people involved. You read it and it seems so romantic, so breathtaking. You live it, and it isn't the same at all. It's heartbreaking. It keeps you up at night for all the wrong reasons.

She thought back over the years that had knit them together so inseparably. Was love good feelings and the fluttering heartbeat and the touch of fingertips against skin that craved more, always more? Or was it this? Staying at his side and protecting him even if he would never return at all? Was love what he fulfilled in her, what happiness he perpetuated in her heart, or was love standing at his side even if he never opened his eyes again? Whatever love was, she just couldn't comprehend how it could leave her feeling so cut open, so wounded. Why did it hurt this much?

Her attachment to him had always become more and more painful as time went on, but she had always kept hanging on, believing it would get better, believing that the pain and hardship was just the sad part of the romance novel where the couple struggled against the odds until they were rewarded with their happily ever after. But for Cas and Alex, happily ever after never seemed to come. To believe that it would, even a little bit, was absurd, and Alex was quietly, sadly, finally accepting that. If her personal experience was anything to go off of, then life was just darkness and monsters and innocent people being ripped to shreds while no one did anything to save them. Well, no one but a tired and broken bunch of people called hunters. Hoping for happiness that lasted was just a setup for more heartache. Alex had never felt a state of happiness that lasted or persevered—it was always taken away or broken to pieces. So why should now be different?

Alex thought about how she fallen back into Cas's arms so hard and fast today with hopes and dreams of finding the way they were, of overcoming all the brokenness they had fallen victim to, of being them again. But they wouldn't be able to. She knew that now after Cas had made it so clear that he couldn't be with her anymore. It broke her heart, made her feel rejected and unloved, made her regret so much. And still… here she was. At his side, choosing to remain there. Maybe because she was realizing that the way she loved Cas was much, much more than what he did for her or how he could make her feel. Like she had said to her brothers: Castiel was family. And they didn't leave family behind. Not today. Not ever. Even if he had hurt her beyond compare, she loved him beyond what made sense. Today she had realized that more than ever.

She tightened her hands on his and studied his familiar, painfully beautiful profile. Even as worries about the future plagued her mind, she echoed the sentiments they had vowed to each other on their wedding day what felt like so long ago. "I'm not leaving you," she whispered, and kissed his knuckle for a long two seconds. In her chest, her heart beat and ached and clenched. She was left hoping he would return, but resolving to stay even if he didn't. He'd protected her silently before she ever knew his name or face. Now, she would protect him even if he never woke up again. If he didn't improve or show signs of returning to consciousness in a few weeks, she would haul his comatose ass up to the mountains or out to the desert where no one lived and find a safe place for him and just… go from there. Figure out what was next.

There was a sudden, ominously loud creak on the floor nearby. Awareness of danger immediate overtook Alex. Her quick reflexes propelled her into instinctual, defensive action—she whipped upwards off the bed and was yanking out her weapon even as she turned to face her attacker—but she wasn't fast enough, and the enemy had gotten far too close. Alex was hit across the face hard with a fist right after she made a sloppy swipe with her blade. With brute force that she recognized as a telekinetic shove, she blindly went flying into the corner of the room and her blade clattered to the ground after it flew out of her hand. Her head hit the wall hard enough to dent the plaster and as the world spun and her ears rang, Alex looked up into the face of an unfamiliar black-eyed demon who looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Well well well, Crowley's gonna be real happy with me when I bring him the two-timing angel who messed him up and the bitch who used to suck our blood down like beer on tap," he said, grinning wickedly. And then a blade tip suddenly thrust into him from behind and protruded out of his middle as he screamed in pained shock. His skeleton flickered white hot beneath his skin and clothing. When he fell over dead, a much smaller person was revealed to be standing behind him.

"Yeah… don't think so bud," Meg said almost in boredom, then smiled down at Alex cooly as she twirled the borrowed angel blade lazily. "Hi. Me again." She cocked her head to the side and a triumphant nature showed in her features as she put a hand on her hip. Alex was scrambling up to stand and glare. "So… what was all that about not needing my help a few minutes ago, again?"

"What the hell are you still doing here?!" Alex spat, fighting a splitting headache from being thrown against a wall.

Meg made a face like she was thinking duh. "Saving your cute little life—again." She smiled cynically and then hesitated, warning Alex silently with just a look before she very cautiously extended the angel blade hilt-first. Alex didn't move forward to take her weapon back yet—just regarded the demon with a mistrustful scowl. "A thank you would be nice, or didn't Daddy teach you any manners?" Meg wisecracked blandly. When Alex's face darkened, the demon seemed vaguely amused. "…What, you gonna try and stab me again?"

"Haven't decided yet," Alex said gruffly, but snatched her weapon back all the same.

Meg had an eyebrow arched high as she watched Alex hawkishly. She stepped back, fending off a possible attack, hands raised in slight surrender—proof that she wasn't totally brain-dead. "Quick reminder, sweetie, you'd be dead right now if I wasn't here, so…"

"What do you want, a cookie?!" Alex retorted with sarcasm strong enough to bend a spoon.

"Chocolate chip would be great," Meg replied in that lazy drawl of hers without missing a beat. Fed up, Alex warned her silently with a severe look and lifted her weapon just fractionally, sending the silent message that the demon better spill the beans or get sliced open if she didn't. Meg's pretense of playful, lofty indifference wavered and she became grudging, almost uncomfortable with what she said next. "Like I said before," she said through gritted teeth, trying to remain smug. "I'm looking for somewhere to shack up. I need allies."

Alex's eyebrows were up high. "So you pick the family who you've been fucking with for the past ten years to come crying to for help?" she asked, almost laughing in the other woman's face at the preposterous idea. "What, you think I wanna make friendship bracelets with you and braid your hair after everything you've done to me and my family?"

Meg's jaw tightened slightly as her impatience visibly took a hit. "No, but I think you doing this whole watching-over-Sleeping-Beauty thing by yourself is a joke and a half," she replied tightly. "I could really float your boat if you'd actually, you know, give me a chance."

Alex rolled her eyes, getting shorter and shorter on temper. "You know what? Stabbing you is sounding real good to me right now."

Instead of looking afraid, Meg was only mildly annoyed. "Okay so chew on this a minute, Nero." The demon's eyes held a challenging gleam. "You apply for a job here so that your little lovesick presence isn't ridiculously suspicious, you have to pass a drug screening," she said, throwing Alex off balance. "Can you do that, Courtney Love?" Meg asked smugly. Alex's bravado wavered. Well… yeah. She could find a way to use urine or hair strands that weren't hers for that kind of test, but honestly she hadn't even thought that far ahead about how to stay here with Cas and not draw attention. Should she get a job here? What the hell kind of job could she feasibly get, anyway? If she was gonna be at Cas's side day and night, how exactly would that work with hospital staff interfering and trying to enforce visiting hours? She hadn't considered the logistics. Meg saw Alex's lessening confidence and pressed it. "Or try this on for size, can you stay awake twenty-four-seven like, say, I can? Fend off curious doctors and nurses in the midst of all your sad sad lady-pain? And just who, exactly, watches Cas when you need to do human things like go to the store and catch the latest episode of Reno 911? Hell, what's your plan for in the morning once the lovely staff here comes in to their room to find some John Doe in their hospital with no paperwork or records of even being here?" She grinned slowly at Alex's total lack of answers. Her eyes sparkled with something meant to be alluring and seductive. "Baby, I'm your wingman," she said, low voice drenched with a pleased tone. "You need me."

Extremely pissed off because Meg was kind of right and had tons of good points, Alex grabbed the demon by two fistfuls of jacket and shook her hard with gritted teeth before shoving her back roughly. "I will never need a demon for anything!"

All she got was a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. "Gosh, you always this excitable?" Meg asked, voice dripping with suggestive interest.

The demon was definitely under her skin, and Alex fought hard to act like the little comments and attitude didn't faze her. "Let's get one thing straight," she warned in a hard, foreboding tone, using her taller height to posture intimidatingly as she stared knives down at Meg. "You do what I say. You don't even think about trying to double-cross me. You do anything I don't like and I'm sticking this blade down your throat."

Meg's mouth made a little surprised 'O' and she feigned intense approval. "Ooh, that sounds naughty." When Alex was exasperated with the comment, Meg chuckled. "Come on, you walked right into that one!"

And that was how the new living arrangement began. With Alex wanting to stab herself.

Meg of course never revealed how she'd completely orchestrated the 'rescue' that had just taken place, how she had schemed in order to win a small amount of Alex's trust and debt. She had tricked that demon who she just killed with Alex's blade. Approached him on the street and given him Alex's name and location then followed him so she could kill him and appear to be the hero. It worked. Meg was smart. And all she wanted, truly, was what she said: someone to be on her side. Someone to have her back. So if she had to cheat and trick her way there, so be it. There didn't seem to be another way, after all.

Four Days Later

Even though it kind of killed Alex, she partnered up with Meg. She justified it to herself as a necessary evil. However, she didn't trust the demon and kept watching for the moment when the demon's hidden agenda would come to light. But all Alex saw was Meg being helpful and resourceful. First, Meg forged and filed paperwork for Cas that stated he'd been brought in during the confusion of the bloodbath that happened in the back of the hospital. While she did that, Alex drew a hidden devil's trap underneath Cas's bed so that if Meg decided to pull a fast one, she'd regret it real quick. Next, Meg got herself hired as a nurse. Alex, however, had to take a less glamorous job: janitor. It wasn't a cover job, either. She literally had to clean, scrub, disinfect, and scour things for twelve hours every day. Things she didn't even want to look at, much less touch.

Meg and Alex butted heads several times a day over a variety of things and Meg's personality got on Alex's every last nerve. The only reason she tolerated the demon at all were the reasons Meg pointed out: she never slept, she could spot demons, and she was less emotionally invested than Alex. It made her more reliable and stable than Alex was.

Working in a hospital had some very strong drawbacks for the hunter. The pharmacy tempted her. Its shelves were stocked with enough opiates to make any addict antsy and hungry for the high. And, of course, learning that Cas had close to no brain activity after a doctor examined him was devastating. They put him in all white hospital patient clothing and it made the situation even realer and worse to Alex. Meg found her crying in the cleaning supply closet on the second day and Alex had hit her in the face with a mop when she made a smart comment. Pills were sadly what Alex turned to in a moment of weakness, and all the progress she'd made weaning herself down in dose was pretty much thrown out the window.

At night, Meg played lookout and Alex crawled into bed beside Cas where she would fall into a deep, physically exhausted sleep. Every night she dreamed the same thing all night long: that he was awake beside her on the bed and holding her close. She tried to talk to him in these dreams because they felt very vivid and real, but he never spoke. Just held her as his soft eyes looked at her and his calloused fingertips traced against her hair and face sweetly. He kissed her tears when she cried and held her close comfortingly when the pain became too much for her. She never dreamed anything else.

Sam called her every day, but Dean was still giving her the silent treatment. According to Sam as of yesterday, they were currently on some hunt with Jamie and Garth. Alex felt a little guilty and even jealous about not being there with them. During the day she scrubbed toilets and cleaned bedpans and mopped countless hallways. While doing so, Alex had a lot of time to think. All she thought about was how no matter what strides she made or strength she found, she always seemed to end up sad and alone again. She thought she really should have accepted it by now. But every time her world crashed, she was dismayed anew, like she actually expected things to get and stay better or something.

As Alex cleaned the hospital cafeteria on a rainy afternoon, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced around for anyone who might tell her off for using the phone during the job, then ducked into the empty hospital kitchen for privacy. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey," his familiar tenor voice greeted. In that single word, she heard chagrin and wondered why. "So, you looked at a calendar anytime recently?"

That was an odd way to start a conversation. "Huh? No, why?" She was already looking at her watch and squinting at the date. May the fifth. She suddenly realized why he asked that. Her eyebrows shot up high as she realized their birthday had come and gone and she hadn't even realized. "Oh. Wow." She paused, frowning suddenly at the epiphany. "Are we thirty?"

"Yup, apparently," Sam said, chuckling ruefully.

Alex felt slighted and mildly amused at the same time. She had always thought thirty would feel monumental, like that was the year she'd finally feel grown up. And the day had come and gone without her even noticing. "Well that was anticlimactic…"

"I know, tell me about it," Sam said, sounding similar to how she felt. "We've been so busy with this case I didn't even realize what month it was, let alone our birthday…"

Thirty. Alex sighed and leaned back against a stainless steel refrigerator. So many birthdays. Halfway to sixty. A wave of depression crashed over her. "Geez, I feel old."

"I know," Sam said, his voice slightly wistful. "We were eighteen just yesterday, you know?"

"We were, weren't we?" Alex asked, reminiscing with a bittersweet longing for simpler days, as strange as that was.

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding faintly sad like her. "So, anyway—just wanted to call and say happy birthday when I realized. So, uh…" a brief, awkward pause, "Happy birthday."

Alex managed a faint chuckle. "Ditto, Sammy," she said, then realized she and Sam weren't the only ones who forgot. "So Dean forgot, too? Geez, we're all getting geriatric or something."

"Speak for yourself, grandma," Sam joked. "He's been distracted the past few days, guess you could say."

Distracted by the job or by Jamie? By his tone, it could go either way, but if Alex had to guess, she'd put her money on the blonde. "Yeah. I bet. Where is he, anyway?"

"Not totally sure," Sam answered, but he didn't sound worried. "Long story short, we were hunting this thing called a Shojo—a Japanese, well, spirit spirit and—"

"Like, spirit as in alcohol?" Alex interrupted, highly intrigued.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a little laugh. "Had to be drunk to see it. So, you know, Dean had to drink like a whole fish tank worth of booze before he felt anything. It was pretty funny, honestly. What I remember, anyway—I uh, still feel pretty hungover." Alex gave a sympathetic sound. "But, yeah anyway, to answer your question… after we wrapped up the hunt we went to this eighties karaoke night at some bar, to you know, drink more because that makes sense. I'm trying to keep Garth from puking his guts out, then I look over and see Dean and Jamie in the middle of the dance floor making out like no tomorrow... they headed out not long after so your guess is as good as mine what he's been up to for the last..." he paused to check his watch, she assumed, "twelve hours or so."

"Twelve hours?" Alex asked. That was a long time for Dean to disappear for… those reasons. Alex felt a little unsure of how to respond. "Well… good for him, I guess." She'd always thought Jamie and Dean would make a good couple because she knew them both separately and saw their similarities and how they would compliment each other… but now she suddenly felt weird about it, faintly worried about where it would go. No one else except Cassie way back in the day had made Alex feel like this: Afraid to be replaced. If Dean really fell for Jamie, like really really fell, Alex was afraid she'd no longer being Dean's number one girl. Her insides felt sort of hollow at that thought. Because she already knew Dean looked at Jamie differently than he'd ever quite looked at another woman. She'd seen it with her own eyes.

"Yeah, I mean about time if you ask me," Sam was saying, oblivious to Alex's conflicted thoughts. "Get it out of their systems, you know?" He chuckled self-consciously.

"Do you think that's how it'll go, though?" Alex hedged, wishing she could have more insight. "I mean, they seem sort of... more than just one night stand material. But I haven't been around them as much as you have."

"Well... dunno," Sam answered honestly. "But hey, she's a really good person. Solid hunter. The magic is pretty cool to have on our side too, you know. And honestly I'd love to be able to make fun of Dean for having a witch as a girlfriend so—bring it on." He chuckled again, and even Alex had to smirk for a second and roll her eyes. It was a pretty good piece of ammo to have in the make-fun-of-Dean bag of tricks. Sam's considerate, tender side returned as he took a second and thought about her original question. "Not to be corny but... she puts this like light in his eyes," he revealed thoughtfully. "And he smiles a lot more when she's around. That's nice to see." Alex smiled a little, too. That was really nice to hear, nicer than she might have anticipated. Sam cleared his throat, maybe second guessing telling her this sappy stuff as her significant other was laying there in a coma. "How uh, how about you? How are things over there? Any changes with Cas?"

Alex's mood dipped. "No. He's exactly where he was when you guys left, just like last time you asked."

Sam sounded sympathetic. "And Meg's still there?"

"Yu-p," Alex replied, popping the 'p' in exasperation. "And still annoying as shit. She needs to bottle up snark and sell it—seriously, she's exhausting. Never stops with the sarcastic crap and everything can be turned into a sexual innuendo…"

"In-your-end-o," Sam joked suddenly, catching his sister off guard with the throw back to middle school humor.

"…Oh my god, how old are you?" Alex asked through the sudden grin he'd gotten out of her.

He sounded pleased with himself. "Thirty. We just talked about this, Alex."

Alex groaned through a laugh. "You are not funny..."

He was chuckling, too. "Sorry, I'm sorry, you were trying to tell me some serious stuff. Keep going."

Alex tapped her fingers against the prep counter she was near. "Well, as much as Meg sucks, it is good to have someone here who doesn't need to sleep. Someone who can spot a demon right off. I hate to admit it, but she has been handy…" she glanced around furtively, always on the lookout for any sign of someone following her or watching her. "I dunno about the enemy of my enemy being a friend, but an enemy in the right place... can be useful."

"I'll drink to that," Sam said, then his voice took on a note of brotherly concern. "Just… stay careful, all right?"

"Trust me, I am," Alex assured him tiredly. She sighed softly, not really in the mood to talk about herself. "So, you're still good? No more Satan-vision or Hallucifer crap?"

Sam grew a touch more somber. "No. It's… it's completely gone. Since Cas fixed me… nothing. No visions, no nothing." He sounded quiet, scarred. "That was… it was the worst time of my life." He gave a nervous little forced laugh as he tried to sound less disturbed by it than he obviously was. "I'm just glad it's over."

"Me too," Alex said, for a minute so stilled at the thought of how close they had come to losing Sammy yet again. He was too young and had too beautiful of a strong, loyal spirit to die or to go through what he'd gone through. He deserved better, and she loved him so much for how brave and selfless and tenacious he was.

At her short silence, Sam's concern returned. "You okay, though? I worry."

Alex forced a tight smile and made herself sound flippant. "Come on, Sam, I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," Sam retorted. Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by the sound of some other male person close by saying something indistinct and excitable. "Oh, um… Garth wants to say h—" there was a scuffling sound, like someone had taken the phone right out of Sam's hand and the speaker was rubbing against something.

And then, a high, jovial voice that Alex definitely recognized. "Whassup, buddy!" Garth greeted enthusiastically, and she could hear the face-splitting grin on his face.

"Uh, hi Garth," Alex said, jarred a little from the serious conversation with concerned Sam and the sudden cheerful person on the other end.

"Your brothers are pretty fly, I have totes enjoyed the past couple days with them," Garth said happily. "Dudes are a couple of standup guys, I'll tell ya that much."

Alex attempted to reply. "Wh—"

"They told me you were off somewhere takin' care of your fella, the trench coat dude," Garth rambled on. "I sure do hope he gets vertical soon, Lex-Mix."

"Um—" Alex wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a reference to Chex Mix or if Garth had just hit his head particularly hard sometime recently.

"Either way, just like I said last time we talked, you call me if you need anything, all right?"

"Ye—"

There was a loud exclamation that sounded like Dean to Alex. "Ooh snap!" Garth exclaimed, sounding further away from the phone. "Dean's back from his rendezvous, gotta go!" And he hung up on her without another word.

Alex balked slightly. "…Hello? …Garth?" Dead air. She made a face then glared slightly at the phone. "Fine," she muttered, "didn't wanna talk to you anyway."

Dean burst into the motel room with a broad grin on his face.

"Sammy, Garth-man!" he greeted in a very pleasant boom.

"Ooh snap!" Garth exclaimed into the phone. "Dean's back from his rendezvous, gotta go!"

Sam regarded his brother oddly, surprised at the sudden appearance and obvious good mood. It wasn't normal: the huge smile that was stretching Dean's whole face and making his eyes crinkle… Dean was… beaming. It made Sam immediately doubtful and skeptical. Dean was supposed to be grouchy and cantankerous and foul in the mornings (and, well, all of the time). "Where've you been?" he asked slowly, looking Dean over for signs of witchcraft or something.

Dean just grinned all the wider as he came into the room. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Sam, Sam, Sam…" he said fondly, chuckling.

"How are you not hungover as crap?" Sam asked, mystified at Dean's amazingly uncharacteristic good spirits.

Dean's grin widened yet again and there was a suggestive quality to his eyes. "Oh dude, I am, but I feel way too good to care."

Garth was grinning too, nodding and appearing highly approving. "Last night must have been pretty damn sweet, huh?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, egging Dean on.

Dean almost looked like he was about to brag—but then he visibly decided that didn't compute. "That's classified," he said slyly, but it was obvious he'd had a great time. He clapped both Sam and Garth on the shoulders and then shook them enthusiastically as if he were trying to jostle some of his high spirits into them. "Who wants breakfast? I'm buying!"

"It's lunch time," Sam pointed out blandly.

Apparently, Dean didn't care. "Come on guys, live a little!" he exclaimed, then smacked Sam on the cheek a couple times, his good mood refusing to be deflated in the least. "What's with the long face? Let's go get some eats!" He gave a loud, boisterous 'ha ha!' and clapped Sam on the back hard enough to jostle him then headed toward to door, whistling a tune that sounded very much like The Best by Tina Turner. A little flabbergasted, Sam watched his brother practically dance out of the motel room. He couldn't remember the clearest, but he thought maybe that was the song that had been playing when he spotted Dean and Jamie kissing so zealously on the dance floor last night.

"He always this excited after he gets laid?" Garth asked, appearing amused and a little puzzled too.

Sam shook his head slowly, feeling a little suspicious. "No, but I think it's been a, uh, really long time, so… maybe that has something to do with it?"

Garth shrugged it off and grinned again. "All I know is I ain't never turned down free food and I ain't about to start now!" He bounded after Dean and Sam sighed, grabbed his jacket, and followed them.

One Week Later

Tired and ragged from doing nothing but cleaning hospital surfaces all day, Alex returned to Cas's room to find Meg with her feet propped up onto the desk near the bed. She was reading a celebrity gossip magazine and looked up in half interest when Alex entered. "Are all the shitters squeaky clean?" she asked, taunting amusement playing in her low, sultry voice.

Not in the mood—fighting off a case of the jitters as she tried to fend off the shakes, the nausea, and the general hell of needing a hit of Oxy, Alex was rude as usual. "Shut up."

A sly smile played on Meg's red lips. "You really got the crappy end of the deal, didn't you, Barbie doll," she joked. Alex threw down her duffel bag with gusto, her mouth twisting on her face in an effort to contain her fury. "Aw, I think I upset her…" the demon crooned in baby talk.

Alex abruptly seized the bedside table lamp and hurled it blindly at Meg, who leaned to the side casually and let the lamp hit the wall beside her head. "Shut up Meg, just shut up!" she screeched, out of breath and shaking from the sick feeling possessing her body.

Meg lowered the magazine a little more and looked almost sympathetic. "How the hell did you hide this from your brothers, anyway?" she asked. By now, she knew about Alex's addiction. Had made fun of it, joked about it, and generally been a total insensitive bitch about it.

"Trust me, it wasn't easy," Alex muttered, pacing a small circle and wiping her clammy forehead with her wrist. All she could think about was the pharmacy and breaking into it.

Meg stood and put her magazine down. In her nurses' scrubs, she looked the part she was playing. Almost. "Hey, if you need a night off to go puke in peace, I can swing it, sweetcheeks," she offered.

Alex scowled at her. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, and sat down angrily on the low bench against the far wall.

"Suit yourself," Meg said, rolling her eyes.

Alex began to pull off her shoes. She glanced over at Cas and her anger softened a little, her jerky actions slowed. I wish you were here. Really, really here. Even if you don't want me anymore. You were still kind of my best friend...

After a minute of contemplation, Meg inexplicably joined Alex on the bench as she got her left shoe off. When the demon got a dirty sidelong look, she feigned innocence. "What? Just admiring the scenery," she purred, letting her eyes wander Cas in a way that looked sort of filthy and made Alex's jaw clench. Then Meg smiled almost dreamily. "I can see his halo, you know…" Alex looked at Cas too, wondering what that looked like and feeling a small sense of loss that she couldn't see it. Meg made a face like she was touched to the soul itself and her voice took on an overly dramatic tone. "Little nightlight is so cute I wanna die!"

"Go right ahead, then," Alex replied flatly, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest tightly.

"Ouch," Meg said, hissing slightly like she'd been burned, then she chuckled, apparently not bothered at all. "So. I think everyone upstairs and downstairs knows about what he did," she said, eyes on Cas again almost admiringly. "Who he became. So why's he get a free pass, anyway? He's done things to your family I wouldn't even dream of doing and he's supposed to be the angel here, not me."

That was an observation Alex could have lived without. "You wouldn't understand," she replied tightly.

"Why? Because I'm a demon?" Meg challenged cynically. "Because I have no thoughts, no feelings? Wrong." She smiled languidly and spoke in a singsong voice that made Alex want to shoot herself in the face. "I started off like you, Ariel. Just a tiny little human who had dreams and hopes and fluffy little ideas about her big bright future in this shiny, new world I found myself in." Her tone lost a little of its edge in favor of surprising darkness. "Didn't get much of a chance to try the whole 'living' thing though, what with being thrown alive into a fire when I was thirteen years old and all." Alex looked at her sidelong, frowning. Meg was smiling again, wrinkling her nose like something was really cute. "Warms your heart, doesn't it?" she asked, but Alex saw how Meg's expression held something besides the constant bullshit. She was bitter.

Thrown into a fire. Alex followed her assumptions to the best guess. "What, were you a witch?" she asked doubtfully. "Salem witch trials?"

Meg looked vaguely impressed and then giggled like that was a good one. "Oh no. No no. Good try though, gold star for effort." She smiled without showing teeth. "I'm much, much older than that. Like, old testament old—but thanks to my face cream, you'd never know exactly how primeval I really am. Maybe it's Maybelline, huh?" Alex struggled against impatient annoyance—Meg never talked plain, ever. And it was irritating as shit. Seeing Alex's exasperation, Meg threw her a line. "Ever heard of Moloch? Ancient Ammonite god? Well, back in my day they burned virgins and babies for kicks in his name and for sacrifices to protect crops and family honor and…" she rolled her eyes as if she were insanely disinterested. "Yada yada yada, I'm boring myself. I'll just tell you what, sweet cheeks, if the Bible got one thing right, it's the bloody part." Her smile wavered, her eyes went off into the distance, her expression held strangely in that half-smile that began to look more like a pained mask. "My dad's the one who tossed me into the flames—and the rest of my family watched me burn to death right in front of them." Her smile was gone completely. "They let that happen to me." Alex watched Meg and for a minute, she didn't see Meg the demon anymore. She just saw a being who felt pain, and it mystified her, it startled her, it screwed with her preconceived notions.

And then Meg suddenly became Meg again. "And so I haunted the shit out of them, and jinkies was it fun!" she exclaimed. "I killed every last one of those pagan assholes for what they did to me. But that wasn't enough—I killed all the priests in the temple and all the worshipers who sacrificed their kids, too. Then I killed the entire village—well, the ones who didn't 'flee my wrath' or whatever. Baby, I made them all burn." Again, a glimpse into who Meg used to be slipped through as she became glazed over slightly. "And that's why I went to Hell. Because I took revenge on people who didn't deserve to live. Because I killed murdering bastards for what they did." Meg stared off into nothing, her eyebrows working in just slightly in an expression of genuine confusion. "I didn't do anything to deserve that," she murmured. "And they burned me alive. I still don't know how anyone could do that, and I'm a demon. I live and breathe evil. And I don't understand."

That was one of the saddest and most horrific things Alex had ever heard. She was silent for a long moment, thunderstruck by this revelation and the pain behind it, the weight. Were all demons like that? Alex had thought demons were made out of people like Hitler, Stalin, or Genghis Khan. Was that not right? Beside herself and fighting a throbbing headache and sweaty palms, Alex had a moment of what she would soon view as weakness and sentiment. "I'm... sorry that happened to you, Meg," she offered, because it was truly terrible and in that moment she really did have pity on her.

When she said that, Meg sent Alex a suddenly flirtatious look and bumped her shoulder into Alex's. "Gosh, you sure know how to warm a girl's loins!"

Face sagging, Alex leaned away, so done with it all. "Please stop."

Her demon companion lowered her voice to a suggestive whisper. "Come on, Cas wouldn't mind if you did a little experimenting… maybe he'd even join us if he ever woke up, hmm?" Meg bit her lip and waggled her eyebrows up once. When Alex just gave a heavy disgusted huff, Meg chuckled throatily. "Does it get under your britches? Knowing you could end up like me someday? Spend enough time in Hell with a personality like yours and you might just be the next Meg…"

Alex was tired. In need of substance. And she said the truth without even thinking. "Yeah, well, you have to be able to die to go to Hell, so."

"Come again?" Meg asked, severely interested. "Oooh, plot twist! Did Clarence do something to you? I thought you smelled kinda immortal. Either that or you were using a new perfume. Who am I kidding, you've never worn perfume in your life." She looked genuinely surprised. "Damn." Then a huge grin split her face in half. "Well! This just means we can be BFFs forever."

Alex put a hand to her pounding forehead. "Oh joy."

"Aw, come on Ariel," Meg pouted. "We're not that different, you and me. Daddy issues out the wazoo, family thinks you're a failure, you find yourself on the outside after you picked angel to side with… oh, and we're both painfully good looking, don't forget that." She winked.

Alex looked at the demon with disgruntled annoyance. "Oh Meg, we are nothing alike."

"Sorry, cupcake, but you're living in complete denial," Meg replied breezily. "Hey, skip ahead a few chapters, see where your loyalty to an angel leaves you." She spread her hands and indicated herself cynically. "Right where it's left me. With nowhere left to go but to for help except the people who hate your guts and wanna kill you." When Alex said nothing and just confirmed her hatred with an evil eye, Meg looked vaguely vaguely crestfallen. "Hey, I may be the spawn of Satan to you, but newsflash: I still have feelings."

"Yeah well go make a scrapbook about them, because I don't care," Alex retorted brusquely, giving Meg a harsh glare. Maybe Meg had once been a human, but she wasn't anymore. And maybe becoming a demon hadn't been entirely her fault, but Alex still believed that angel, demon, or human… they all had control over their own actions in the end. The choice to be good or to be evil. And Meg had possessed, ruined, destroyed and murdered countless people while offsetting the balance by doing close to nothing to redeem herself. She showed no true remorse, and she wasn't trustworthy. Alex wasn't gonna forget that anytime soon.

Meg looked hurt but covered it up with a cool, tight expression. She stood up and made to exit the room, then paused at the door. "Oh, gee, I forgot," she said in a voice that said she hadn't forgotten anything at all. "The urinals on the east wing all need to be cleaned before you're done for the day. Wanna get on that one, sweetheart?" And then she left.

Alex sighed in frustration and drifted over to Cas's side, watching his still face. She bent and kissed his forehead softly, smoothed his hair a little, questioning her sanity for the millionth time. Then went to go clean more disgusting crap like she had done all day long before this.

One Week Later
Neighbor, Michigan

Most sixteen year olds heave a great sigh and perhaps an 'ugh' of distaste when asked about the SATs. Not Kevin Tran. He would be more likely to utter a squeak of nerve-wracked terror if you mentioned that exam to him. The Scholastic Assessment Test, better known as the SAT, was his entire future on a plate. It was the difference between getting into Princeton or being relegated to the unthinkable: 8xcommunity college.

Sixteen and in advanced placement, Kevin was currently stressing himself to the point of gray hairs over college entry essays, SAT test scores, student loan assistance, and the wonderful world of higher education. He had plans, and these plans had to succeed to the letter or he was convinced that he would be the world's youngest heart attack victim.

Kevin expected the absolute best from himself. He did not believe in 'taking it easy' or 'trying his best.' His only goal in life was complete and total success. As far as grades went, only A+ would do. He refused to miss school even if he was ill for fear of not having perfect attendance. He studied for every test as if his life depended on it. He played cello, piano, and was on the debate team. He was also a member of a variety of clubs: chess, math, and the Asian Society club. Basically, he slept very little and demanded absolute perfection in everything he did. Every second of every minute of every hour was planned for maximum efficiency. If he had down time, he didn't know what to do with himself and he would become overly anxious at all the time he was wasting. Although he was always exhausted and overwhelmed, if he wasn't constantly doing doing doing he felt like a failure. Accomplishments and goals and excellence were what he obsessed over and what gave him purpose and comfort.

The way he lived left little time for a social life of any kind, but somehow, he had landed a girlfriend. She was one of his only friends, quite honestly. Maybe his only friend if he really thought about it. Channing was very similar to him. They had met in Asian Society and bonded over their mutual obsession with perfection and achievement and education. She had very traditional Vietnamese parents who had rigid expectations. As a result, Channing was very focused, disciplined, and studied harder than anyone Kevin knew. She was just as concerned with academic excellence and achievement as Kevin was. He liked that. Kevin was planning to kiss her soon, but he hadn't found a way to schedule it yet. Also, he was very afraid to kiss someone. He never had before.

Kevin never would kiss Channing but he didn't know that yet.

To him, that Sunday evening was just a regular Sunday evening. He was practicing cello and expecting a call from Channing after he ended his practice in exactly four minutes and seven seconds from then (he liked things to be scheduled down to the most minuet detail, if you haven't noticed yet). After he spoke to her for the allotted time, he would start on his college entry exam. That was another source of stress for him. For all his time and planning put into the future, he couldn't think of a single thing to actually say for himself. But it wasn't time for that yet. Right now was cello practice.

Blissfully (as blissfully as a paranoid Type-A person with frequent anxiety could be), Kevin drew deep, soulful notes out of his cello as the bow skimmed across the strings and his perfectly placed, quickly moving fingers crafted the notes for Bach's Cello Suite in G major. He missed a note halfway into the song and his nostrils flared in abrupt anger as the bow screeched across the strings. He'd ruined it. With a deep, frustrated breath he began all over again because anything less than complete perfection was unacceptable to him.

Ah, the things he would very soon ruefully shake his head at. That Sunday, in just a few moments, things changed forever. He would go from sweating over education to fearing for his safety. From running for student council to running for his life. He would soon be thrown into a life of chaos, angels, demons, violence, and bloodshed. But for the moment, Kevin just kept getting frustrated at himself over minor, unnoticeable mistakes he made while playing the cello.

About Ten Minutes Later
Lebanon, Indiana

It was early evening and Meg was sitting with her feet propped up lazily on the desk as Alex sat beside Cas in bed and sharpened her hunting knife slowly. Thwick, thwick, thwick. She ran the edge of her knife against the blade sharpener slowly, deliberately, remembering how she used to fall asleep as a little girl to the sound of Dad doing this exact same thing.

"So how often do you sharpen Cas's blade?" Meg teased, a ridiculous little smirk playing on her lips.

Alex's gaze flickered up to Meg briefly and she didn't make a reply. She'd discovered it was best just to ignore all the dumbass stuff the demon spouted. It was weird, but she was getting used to this arrangement and found herself almost enjoying Meg's company in the odd moment or two when she forgot how much she hated her. Cas's condition was completely the same. That plan about taking him to the mountains was starting to sound like the next step. Alex pictured herself as an elderly woman shuffling around a lonesome cabin, checking in on the boyishly handsome forever-sleeping angel she kept in her bedroom. Alex thought about how she used to like tragic love stories until she became the center of one.

Without warning, there was a building-shaking huge clap of thunder outside and lightning so bright and startling that Alex sat up straighter and stared out the window as her heart leapt. Geez. That seemed close to here and out of nowhere.

And then she realized Cas was sitting bolt upright next to her.

Her knife and sharpening stone fell out of her hands as Alex almost fell off the bed. "Cas?!" she asked, shocked beyond belief, hardly daring to move. He turned his head toward her with odd slowness, appearing to be almost emotionless. Growing a little fearful, Alex shrank back a little. "C-Cas? Can you hear me?"

His eyes curiously took in her face. Then a slow, warm smile spread, almost bashful in nature. He opened his mouth, and out came words she did a double take at.

"Wow… you're pretty."