Song Remains the Same

Chapter 106 / Hell Hath No Fury

"Fire can destroy or purify, strengthen or weaken, all depending on the nature of the material being burned.
Pain has the same effects on the human soul, and for the same reasons."
- Lance Conrad

She thought she had the routine down; she thought she was home free. It was about to be over. And now this.

"Well hi, Ariel," Meg said, tilting her head to the side as a smile slid across her lips slowly. "And just what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Alex was struck into silence from shock. She had known much earlier that Crowley had captured Meg… but had assumed Meg would have been killed long ago. Well, she wasn't dead yet, but she didn't look far from it either.

Meg looked terrible. Her badly-dyed blonde hair was like a bird's nest all around her swollen, bruised face. Blood was dried in a trickle down the side of her head and her bare arms were crosshatched by multiple bleeding gashes, lines, and gouges. The tank top she wore was ripped and blood-splattered, one of her ears had been cut off at the lobe, and she had the word 'bitch' carved jaggedly into the skin across her collarbones. She was handcuffed in demon-hex confines and seated at the table that was in the center of the dimly-lit room. The space smelled of blood. Demon blood.

Alex swallowed, faintly sick at the aroma. She was totally unsure of how to process finding herself face-to-face with the demon who had helped her in recent times. Meg's smile wavered a little as Alex's eyes slid uncertainly to the table of torture instruments nearby. "Oh," Meg murmured, covering over what sounded like genuine surprise with sarcasm. "I get it. You're here to cut me up a little more." She smirked lazily, her scabbed face ghoulish in low light. "Yeah, I've heard about your little adventures with Crowley the past few months," she commented with insolent flair. She leaned forward, face twisting slightly. "So, on a scale of one to a jillion, how do you like being the King of Hell's bitch?"

"Well, I see you haven't changed," Alex observed wanly, markedly reluctant to do what Crowley had told her to do.

One of Meg's eyebrows shot up. "I beg to differ, Alex," she retorted. The acidic use of Alex's actual name was strange—Meg had never used it before. A cold, wounded smile grew on the demon's face. "Ya know, it's funny. I've sat here in the dark while they twisted knives into me and I thought maybe you'd show up to save my ass, not ream it some more. Well shame on me." Alex tried not to appear guilty or feel guilty… but she did on both counts. After their time together, as much as Alex may have resisted, she'd come to see the demon as a gray individual. Neither completely an enemy nor completely an ally. Meg knew that and appealed to it in near-desperation. "I might not be your family or your angel but come on! Do I really deserve to rot in here after everything I did for you?!"

Alex contemplated the demon tensely for a long moment. Her hand was forced. It didn't matter what Meg deserved or didn't deserve.

"You shouldn't have gotten caught," she replied quietly after a minute, regret making her grim and artless. "I'm sorry. There wasn't anything I could do, Meg." Alex went to the table of torture instruments and looked at all those wicked objects with a turning stomach. This was awful and necessary. "Still isn't."

Meg was wounded and silent for a stung beat. Then she scoffed. "If my name was Sam or Dean or Castiel, it'd be a whole different story," she muttered, then plastered a false smile across her face. "Well?" She waited, trying to look like she didn't care. "Hit me with your best shot. At least you're prettier than the last demon who cut into me. Makes the agony a teeny weeny less unbearable. But hey, why don't you start with my back? Seems fitting." The demon's dark eyes glittered balefully at Alex, who had just selected a jagged silver knife.

"I don't want to do this, Meg," Alex clarified, staring at the glinting weapon and swallowing slowly as she tried to get herself in the mindset to do this. "Okay? I don't. You know I don't." A confession that took a lot to say aloud. "But it's Sam's life on the line."

Meg's face changed to accommodate a slight, confused frown. "What's going on with the little flannel-wearer?" she asked. So she didn't know. Alex hesitated to say and Meg got indignant and hurt all over again and she spoke through gritted teeth. "Come on, gimme something. I'm on your side, you know I am, dammit!"

That was probably one of the hardest things to hear. Alex looked at Meg and drifted a couple steps closer, knife in hand. Things could have been different if Meg hadn't got caught. If Alex hadn't been roped into working for Crowley. But she had. So… the what ifs didn't matter. "Sam was hallucinating again. With the stuff that made Cas go crazy. I still don't know why."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, duh." She was all show again, theatrical and cool and amused. The only thing that gave away her nervousness was the brief glance at the knife Alex held. "Cas and Dean went for a little gaycation down to Purgatory, right?" At the narrow-eyed frown Alex gave, Meg smirked. "Word travels fast on the demonic grapevine, I heard that much about the latest Winchester family drama." She sighed and explained her opinion on what was happening with Sam. "Sammy's cray-cray that was all up in your little hubby's brain couldn't follow along to a different dimension for whatever reason and so poof! It went right back to Sammykins where it came from to begin with." Meg's little saucy act began to fade in favor of a growing genuine look. "Sorry, girlscout. Must suck the big one to be doing this on your own. You wanna get me outta these cuffs?" She smiled hopefully through her injuries. "We can bromance it up again, you and me, go get our boys back, make some memories along the way…"

Alex found it within herself to laugh ever so softly—it wasn't cynical, it was rueful. "After six months of working for the King of Hell… having Nurse Masters as my backup does sound kinda nice actually," she admitted. Then her smile fell and reality put her in a corner. "But I can't risk Sam. I can't." She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his well-being at this point. "If I piss Crowley off… I'm signing my brother's death certificate." And she hadn't forgotten that Crowley said he might bring Bobby back if she gave gold star efforts. She was banking everything on this entire contract labor bullshit and soul deal thing. It better pay off.

Meg's expression faded back into bitterness. "Right," she murmured tightly. "Anything for Moosechester." She nodded stiffly. "Guess I shoulda seen that one coming." Defiance was setting in and Meg raised her chin and looked at Alex through sharp, rebellious eyes. "Well make it look good, Cupcake. 'Cause those crypts and their location your boss wants? Crowley's never getting them. Ever. Not even with your cute little self attempting to carve them outta my every nook and cranny." As Alex approached, weapon in hand, Meg's face began to show true emotion. She tried not to let it be seen. "You're more like your oldest brother than anyone thought, huh?" she asked softly, her smug smile faltering.

"Shut up, Meg," Alex whispered, unable to summon fire because of how terrible this was about to get.

"Why, so you can pretend I'm someone else?" Meg crooned defiantly. "Would that make you feel better about what you're about to do, pookie?"

Not much would. Alex circled around behind Meg, slowly and leisurely, taking her time. Then without warning, she grabbed a handful of coppery blonde hair and yanked Meg's head back as she leaned low to put her mouth near the demon's ear. "Make this easy for yourself. Tell me where the crypts are," she demanded dangerously, her knife at Meg's neck.

There was a dark chuckle. "Love it when you talk dirty to me, Ariel," came the predictably seductive reply.

And so it began. Meg's screams began to echo through the basement as Alex went to work in her final, wretched task.

Two Months Later
Purgatory

"Dean, just let me look at it—" Cas implored, but Dean jerked away from his friend's touch. He pressed a hand to the bleeding gash across his torso that he'd sustained a moment ago in the scuffle they'd barely survived.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Cas, don't touch me!" he barked, gritting his bloody teeth together in severe frustration as he batted Cas away. It was like the injury had inconvenienced Dean more than anything else. "I don't have time for this shit, I don't have time!" he raged loudly—too loudly. "We've been gone eight fucking months and we are no closer to getting out than we ever were!"

Nearby, standing in a wide stance with a brutal-looking weapon at his side, a solidly-built man with hushed blue eyes and a thick, neatly kept beard shot a glance at Dean. He wore a battered old black wool pea coat and a vaguely warning expression. "Keep it down, hothead, you gon' get us all killed," he said, soft voice dripping with a syrupy New Orleans accent.

Dean whirled and shot a dirty look his way. "No one asked for your opinion, Vampira!"

Quiet and calm as Dean was loud and riled up, Benny the vampire's gaze narrowed slightly and he glanced around furtively. "I'm just sayin', you gotta keep the volume a little lower, 'less you wantin' more'a those Leviathan friendlies to drop on by."

Dean marched over the vampire's way. "You know what?! Let 'em come; those jackasses showing up and screwing us over's the only thing around I can depend on!"

There was a soft chuckle and a faint smile on the vampire's face which belied his ruefulness. "You know why, Dean," he said knowingly, and his forever-secretive eyes darted over to the nearby angel. "Told you before. You and your angel friend're askin' for all kinds'a trouble in these here parts—'specially him. He's a magnet if I ever seen one. 'Specially when he uses those big boy smitey powers of his…"

Dean's expression was brutal and his voice dropped in octave. "I don't care what he is—he ain't going nowhere."

Benny's expression twitched and he exhaled in measured irritation as he looked off to the side. "Sure, sure," he acknowledged quietly in his thickly accented drawl. "I know." His eyes slid back to Dean and they held a faintly insolent gleam. "You done told me a hundred times over already."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" he challenged, stepping into Benny's space. You wouldn't have even known he was injured at this point. "You getting sick of it? 'Cause I'll tell you what I'm getting sick of." He used his blade to gesture and even tap Benny on the chest in a way meant to intimidate. "All this escape hatch talk and how you said you could find it and yet here we are, one month later after you show up—and no damn escape hatch!"

Benny's eyes glinted challengingly. "You sayin' you got nothin' to show for the likes'a me hangin' 'round?" he asked softly, almost menacingly. "Why Dean, I'd like to think differently. I recall savin' your hide and that shiny angel's hide, too. And not just once, neither." The vampire took his index finger and touched the tip of the blade that was on his chest then pushed it away delicately and pointedly, a cool, warning smile on his face. "So kindly curtail the accusations, friend. We'll find the hatch but you gotta be patient, cher. Purgatory's a big place. Might take some time."

"I don't have time!" Dean shouted, losing it completely. "I got a girl out there waiting for me to show up and I don't have time, you hear me?!" He stalked off a few steps in a furious march then doubled over and let out a sound of pain as his injury caught up with him. He smashed his hand to the wound again and turned around toward Benny, a little breathless from the pain he was feeling. "And what if this thing isn't even legit, huh?!" he demanded, refusing to acknowledge his injury. "Then where's that leave us?"

Ever the voice of reason, Cas was grimly watchful of the hurt hunter. "Dean, getting angry won't solve the problem," he reasoned gently.

Dean's jaw worked hard as he silently acknowledged he knew that his friend was right. "Yeah well I don't like this, I don't fuckin' like it," he muttered, straightening and hardening himself outwardly.

"It's for real, compadre," Benny assured leisurely. "They promised."

Dean scoffed and pulled a face at that revelation. "Oh, 'they'? Well, that's comforting."

"Well, even if it does exist…" Cas began.

"Broken record, my fine feathered friend," Benny said, shooting Cas a veiled side glance.

Dean sat down on a fallen log, exhausted and beat down in every way. "Yeah, please don't start on that crap again, Cas," he said, taking a minute to check out the gash on his torso. It wasn't as bad as it felt. The bleeding was already stopping, so that was good. Too bad Cas couldn't heal in this damn place. He still had his angel mojo but it came and went and as they'd discovered, any use of his powers drew bad guys like moths to a flame. That's why Cas carried and fought with a jagged jungle-style machete they'd procured from a Wendigo in their first few days here. Cas was actually a pretty badass swordsman, truth be told.

Benny looked at Dean and Cas, then surveyed the surrounding area doubtfully. "I don't mean to break up your special lil' moment, fellas, but you two really wanna stick around here much longer?" He received an irritated look from Dean who just wanted to rest for a few damn hours. "We should get a move on…"

Dean knew the vampire was right and grunted against the pain as he stood, unwilling to show the full extent of his inner despair and outward injuries. He had a pulled hip muscle, bruised ribs and a concussion, and a variety of cuts and gashes decorating him all over. But he wasn't about to admit defeat or give up.

As the three set off into the endless woods of Purgatory that looked so alike no matter where you went, Dean fought to hide his limp. Beside him, Cas was bloodstained, filthy, and looking as exhausted as Dean felt. For a few moments, the three of them traveled in silence, and then Cas spoke up like he'd been reflecting for a long while on what he was about to say. "Dean, we should just be prepared," he said, and Dean already know what the angel was gonna bring up because he'd brought it up quite a few times ever since they'd met Benny who promised to help them find this so-called portal in exchange for a way out. Dean didn't plan to follow through on that agreement—he'd be damned if he let a freaking vampire out into the world. He killed those sons of bitches for a living and worked to protect people from them. So this one was as good as dead the second Dean had gotten his use out of him. Although after a month of him being around, Dean had to admit the guy was handy in a pinch. A good fighter. And seemingly trustworthy to some extent. But Dean reminded himself not to trust anyone. Especially not a monster.

Cas was still talking as Dean thought idly. "Even if the portal is real and even if we can find it, I can honestly think of no reason why an angel could pass through." Dean hardened his face, not wanting to hear it. "That and the risk of crossing Purgatory with a Seraph—the vampire is right. It's… less than strategic," Cas continued abysmally. "I have a price on my head, especially since we killed Destroyer." Dean grew a shade more somber at the mention of the monster known as Behemoth. Shortly after the six month mark here in Purgatory, the two of them had happened upon Destroyer, one of the beasts that had possessed Castiel back on earth. More than twenty feet tall, he was probably the most feared creature in the entirety of Purgatory. When Castiel realized what that massive monster with a mouthful of fangs and feet the size of massive tree trunks was—the angel had risked his every ounce of life and limb in a show of furious vengeance Dean had never seen and possibly didn't fully understand. Cas had done some kind of angel magic with his own blood and blown part of Purgatory off the freakin' map with the spell he used to obliterate Destroyer. There was a crater there now, and Cas still wasn't recovered from that encounter. He was still weakened and tired and slower two full months later. Dean had honestly thought Cas was gonna die for a few days there. Which was another reason why Benny's appearance and allyship had been impossible to refuse. Without his wingman at full battery power, Dean had needed the help. Cas was still talking even as those thoughts flew through Dean's mind briefly. "It's just… you two might be a great deal safer without me drawing these creatures to our every trail."

Dean stopped walking and gave Cas a look he had given his brother and sister a million times when they were saying something completely stupid. "No, Cas, you hear me? No. You aren't going out there alone, capiche?" He tried to get the angel to rally. "And you're not giving up hope about getting out, either. Come on, man, just because the rumor says it's a human portal doesn't mean we can't get you out."

Cas only looked fractionally more depressed. "You don't know that Dean."

A few steps ahead, Benny had stopped to watch the exchange judgmentally. He seemed to intrinsically dislike Castiel.

"So let's talk hypothetics," Dean said gruffly, his blood-smeared face intent as he tried to get Cas to think about what it would look like if he made it back to the land of the living sans angel. "I get myself outta this hellhole and show up topside without you—how you think Al would take that?" The mention of her, as always, visibly affected Castiel. "What the hell would I even tell her, huh? I saw her fall apart the last time you left, Cas. I ain't going back without you. No way in hell." Dean shook his head, mostly because he couldn't believe the day had come when he was the one trying to reunite the angel to his sister—he used to make it his life's work to break them up. But the past eight months… those had changed things. "Look, I may not have liked you two together, but I've decided the only thing I dislike more is you two saps apart." Cas's expression flickered with some unnamable emotion.

Benny chuckled in commentary. "Sounds high voltage," he commented slyly.

Dean threw a brief, weighted glance his way. "You got no idea." He looked back at Cas commandingly—the angel was still reluctant. "So stow the doubt, Cas. You're coming. That's final. I'm not leaving you behind, especially not after how hard I've fought to keep your ass alive. Nobody gets left behind. Especially not you. We're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us."

"Whoa, whoa, now don't sign me up for that one, chief," Benny protested mildly. "Don't really feel like dyin' again. Once was enough."

Dean shot the vampire a look—as far as he was concerned, this bloodsucker needed to be either a hundred percent in or a hundred percent out. "You're welcome to leave anytime, Fangs McGee."

Impatient with the constant digs, Benny looked off, clearly ready to keep moving. "You boys sure know how to make a guy feel welcome, tell you that much," he muttered, then hefted his dangerous-looking weapon for good measure as he scanned the nearby trees for enemies.

Dean nodded and made to move out but Cas caught him by the shoulder, deadly serious. "Dean, I'm just saying…" he trailed off, and his grimy, bearded face showed deep amounts of earnestness. "…if it doesn't work... thank you for everything. I'm grateful for our time here together, ironically enough." He paused, that unintentionally sappy nature of his coming through pretty heavily. "I think we needed it."

Well. How did you reply to that, especially with another dude watching? Speaking of… Benny was giving them a look that made Dean sour defensively. "Shut up," Dean snapped at the vampire.

There was a soft chuckle. "Didn't say a thing, hombre," the vampire murmured, his voice distinctly teasing. "But you sure you two have ladies back yonder? Seems like to me…" he trailed off suggestively.

Dean stared at the vampire hard, daring him to finish that damn sentence. "Seems like what, pal?"

Benny grinned lazily, his blue eyes crinkling up at the edges as he enjoyed Dean's disgruntlement. "Nothin', boys," he said, his amusement irking the hunter. "Nothin'."

Confused as always, Cas squinted his eyes deeply. "…Is he implying something?" he asked suspiciously, then looked at Dean for explanation. "What is he implying, Dean?"

Thoroughly done, Dean clapped the angel on the shoulder and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Cas," he muttered, already heading forward and gritting teeth against the countless pains in his body. "Let's just keep moving, all right?"

And keep moving they did. It was the only thing you could do in that place. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed. Keep moving or die standing still.

Meanwhile
Tebriz, Iran

When she had thought of Iran in the past, she'd pictured endless sandy deserts filled with nomad living—tents, desolation, camels maybe, and lots of people in turbans with no idea what the Internet was. Well, there were camels and turbans, but Iran wasn't like her preconceived notions at all. The city of Tebriz was modern and beautiful, settled in the Quru River valley—lush mountains marched along the horizon behind incredible infrastructure that blended ancient aspects and modern alike. Beautiful deserts tapered off away from the more verdant lands that rested along where rivers fed the earth. It was a beautiful city. Oh, and they definitely knew what the Internet was.

But Alex was no longer in the city limits of Tebriz. Today, she was backpacking through the Aladağlar, a nearby maze of brilliantly orange mountains with strange, twisting tunnels and huge, tall paths cut through them by time. It reminded Alex of something from Indiana Jones. This place was utterly surreal, especially to someone who had only seen the landscapes of North America up close and personal.

Alex hoisted her backpack again to redistribute the weight and she continued onward behind the man ahead who led a tired donkey along through the rocky tunnel. Her boots made soft noises against the sand-dusted stone beneath her feet.

It had taken her about two full months to get to this point—both in falsifying a passport and figuring out what no one else ever had: where the Garden of Eden might be. There was a lot of speculation out there that said the Garden could be in the mountains near Tebriz but no one had ever found it before. There was a rumor that these mountains in particular had a passage that people went into and never returned from. That's where Alex was going now, of course, with the aid of a guide. It had been hard to find someone willing to take her to the place, but she'd found a guy, finally, who was willing for the right price. So, here she was.

After finishing her work for Crowley (and leaving Meg a bleeding mess on the floor as the grand finale), Alex had immediately jumped into this Garden of Eden thing like her life depended on it. She had become a creature of autonomy—the only things that ruled her life were the obsession to save her boys and the addiction to painkillers. Nothing else mattered to her except making this happen. She'd been in Iran for nearly two weeks now and had been exploring Tebriz's mountains day and night in the search for the Garden. Her muscles were sore and tired, she'd lost five pounds from all the physical demand, she was beyond sleep deprived. Needless to say, she was fucking determined to find this Garden and in it, the Wayfinder thing Zip had said would be there. Everything depended on it—Sam's life, Dean's life, Cas's life, maybe Bobby's too. If Alex didn't get the mysterious Wayfinder, Zip refused to tell her how to get in to Purgatory. And even if she forced Zip at knifepoint to tell her how to get in, she wasn't sure if she could get anyone out without this object. So, she had to find it.

A mild sigh of wind whipped through the breezeway made by the curving paths they walked along and some strands of Alex's dark brown hair danced around her face for a minute. Wind always made her think of Cas, and her heart abruptly ached out of nowhere at the thought of him. Blue eyes, strong arms, tan trench coat. Deep voice, gentle feelings, old hurts. It all welled up in her like a symphony, each of her senses preserving him in memory alone. Trying not to dwell on the thought of him because the pain was too great, Alex set her face harder and walked a little faster. Ahead, her guide Faraz paused and dashed some sweat away from his deeply-tanned leathery old forehead—the part of his forehead that wasn't covered up by a brilliant blue turban. He was a withered-up looking old man who was going blind and had a white, wiry beard—even though he was elderly, he moved like a peaceful stream, smoothly and evenly, sure on his feet and remarkably strong. His face was wizened; time had carved out wrinkles that bore witness to how often he smiled—his eyes had permanent crinkles around them. He said something in Persian and gestured ahead, looking at Alex expectantly. He barely spoke any English, which was why Samirah was there.

Samirah was a young college student who wore a modest black hijab. She was incredibly polite and accommodating, plus very interested in the quest to find the Garden which was why she had agreed to translate and travel with them a few times now. "He says this is the place," Samirah said, gesturing up ahead to where Faraz stood. "But too dangerous. He will not go further. You can see for yourself why."

Alex went forward and saw that, yes, indeed she could. Solid ground in the narrow path they followed gave way to a rapidly-descending crag that got smaller and steeper as far as the eye could see before it veered off to the left and into shadowy darkness. It looked like if you weren't careful you'd fall and roll down the little tunnel. Probably to death or worse if the Indiana Jones movies were anything to go by.

Hmm. "Well… no risk, no reward." Alex took off her backpack decisively. She hadn't come this far to turn around now. She rolled up her sleeves, armed herself, and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, a woman on a mission.

Faraz began to jabber incessantly, obviously appalled that Alex was actually about to go down there. Samirah translated quickly. "He says you should not go in, that the people who go in they do not come out—" she paused, listening to Faraz continue in a frenzy for a second. "You can attempt to hire a man to do it for you, he suggests."

Oddly enough, that comment immediately struck Alex as humorous. If only this guy knew the things she'd done and monsters she'd faced.

"Tell him I don't need to do that—I can do anything any man can." She grinned rakishly despite the fact that she was about to risk it all. "And tell him I'll be back."

Later
Purgatory

The three of them stood in a circle, their backs to one another as they looked around, eyes wildly searching for more attackers. But all their attackers had been eliminated. All three men were breathless and harrowed with their bloodied weapons at their sides. Scattered around at their feet, the dead bodies of a pack of Rugarus that had just given them a damn good run for their money.

Cas was the first to speak and probably the best one to ask—he had better and sharper senses than Dean and Benny combined. "Well, I think we're clear for the moment," he said, breaking off from the circle and slowly walking to stand by a Rugaru corpse. He peered down at it with a grimly curious frown. "It does present a curious curl in the metaphysics, doesn't it?" He looked up at Dean. "If you murder a monster in monster heaven…" his eyes fell back down at the body, "where does it go?"

Although Dean had wondered the exact same thing, Benny scoffed. He and Cas did not like each other, and the more time they spent together, the more childlike the spats between them became. Case in point: "This crazy uncle's really been your wingman all these months in here, Dean?" the vampire asked, a comment designed to instigate Cas than anything else.

It worked. Cas's expression went all dark and pissy and he confronted Benny as if it were some huge, serious matter. "I am not your uncle," he said snidely. When he got a half eye roll from Benny, Cas's cranky response got that much more pronounced. "I have no possible relationship to your sibling offspring and I'm not the Winchesters' uncle, either—frankly, that would be disturbing as I'm married to the youngest of their family. I don't approve of incest."

Benny was so unimpressed. "Now you kidding me…" he muttered as if to himself, and his eye roll was audible.

Dean wanted to stick a knife into his own skull—it was like this every day all day ever since they'd added Benny to the mix. "You two are killing me!" Dean complained, tired of hearing it.

"Dean, do we really require this creature's assistance?" Cas asked petulantly, staring at Benny balefully. "I find his company grating."

"Now you know how I feel," Dean retorted. "You're both annoying the crap outta me!" At his limit, he stalked off by about twenty feet and sat on a boulder to get some damn peace and quiet so he didn't commit murder. He set his blade down with a metallic clack beside himself and ran his hands across his dirty face as a thousand worries warred within him. Sam. Alex. Jamie. And… maybe a much smaller human being, too.

Were they really going to be stuck here forever? Why hadn't Sam or Alex gotten them out yet? Was there not a way? Dean was beginning to fear they had been abandoned and left to die in here. Whenever he felt that fear creeping up on him, he immediately chided himself, knowing his brother and sister wouldn't stop until they found him. But damn that moment couldn't come soon enough. Dean rubbed his hands together and blood, dirt, grime all rubbed off in disgusting clumps. For awhile he'd enjoyed this life, almost. It had felt pure in a way he hadn't experienced. No dependence on alcohol, food, sleep, whatever else. Just killing and hunting and dominating the food chain. He'd been a lot more hopeful that rescue was on the way or that they'd stumble onto a way out. But now, he was getting antsy. He needed to be back topside with his family. He needed to know what had happened to Jamie. Not knowing killed him. Killed.

Sensing Dean's distress, Castiel—filthy, greasy, tired Castiel—came over hesitantly then sat beside him on the rock to share the silence for a long couple beats. They both stared off ahead of themselves. Finally, Cas spoke. "Are you all right, Dean?"

It was a pretty dumb question, honestly, but nice at least Dean guessed. "No, Cas. No, I am not all right." Nothing about this was all right. It got harder and harder to find any kind of hope anymore for anything other than this: Purgatory, forevermore. The endless fucking woods and the cold thin air that scraped your lungs dry, the never-ending bloodthirsty monsters and beasts, the nights that lasted for weeks at a time, the days that were too dim to be called days, the constant taste of blood in your mouth, the desire for sleep and food and the curse of not needing either thing at all… the deals with the devil you had to make. Dean's eyes drifted to Benny, who was whistling softly and pacing a slow, sure back-and-forth off aways. "We could ditch him if you really want," Dean offered softly to Cas. Honestly, Dean didn't think this portal thing was legit. And if it was, maybe he and the angel could find it on their own.

Cas didn't consider it long—grudgingly, he admitted what they both knew. "It would be unwise to send away the one ally we have." Yeah. The extra blade definitely helped, especially since Dean and Cas were so banged up from the past eight months. Dean felt the angel looking at him sidelong with an earnest and concerned expression. "I'm sure she's fine, Dean."

Dammit, Cas, get outta my head. Or am I just that obvious? Dean considered side stepping the issue completely. They hadn't talked about Jamie in awhile. So that's why he couldn't sidestep it. He was busting at the seams to air his doubts and fears and thoughts.

"You sure about that?" Dean asked quietly. "'Cause by my count…" he swallowed hard. "It's been about nine months since the night when it would have happened." He remembered the kiss that started it all and unleashed the floodgates. He remembered stumbling around in the dark with her in some motel and then the most electric and passionate sex he'd ever experienced with someone. Had they made a baby that night? It still blew him away to think about it. Him, and her. Creating a new little life together by accident in what Dean counted as maybe the best night of his life. Beside him, Cas was silent and thoughtful. Dean tried to put it in a way Cas might understand. "How would you feel, if, if Al was out there and… and having your kid and you couldn't be with her during that?"

Cas responded like Dean had expected. With faint surprise and then apprehensive studiousness as he thought it over. "I suppose I would feel very anxious. More than I am now. There would be nothing I wouldn't do to get back to her." He paused, then pointed out what he thought was the difference in the equation. "But I love Alex very much, in ways that… I myself can't even fathom sometimes. There's an ache inside when we're apart, an ache that never leaves." He paused, and that ache he described was audible. "I miss her so much." Cas turned his gaze onto Dean. "Do you—feel this way about the wi—" he caught himself, remembering Dean disliked when he called her 'the witch.' "About Jamie Ward?"

Cas was basically asking if Dean loved her, and Dean shied away from that question hardcore. He knew the answer of course, but that wasn't for Cas to know. He tried to put it in terms that the angel would get. "James… she's… she's different," he said. And she was. She was the pain in his chest and the worry in his heart; she was inspiration for small smiles in a man who didn't smile much anymore. "She… I guess kinda sticks with me in a way I could never unstick."

He remembered how as teenagers he thought she was so lame and annoying—then meeting her again he'd liked her a lot, then he found out she was a witch and had been so mad about liking her. Turned out even the witch thing couldn't keep him from liking her after all. She was this beautiful, broken woman and he'd been unknowingly screwed from their very first meeting way back in the 90s. Back then all he'd seen was some knock-kneed, pimple-ridden girl with a giraffe neck and braces and an uppity personality. And she was gonna become one of the most important people in his life somehow along the way. Dean thought of how she let him see her in ways she never let others see her and it got him every time. She'd trusted him and he'd wanted to be there for her and he was so sick with worry every day over if she was okay or not and if she knew where he was or not. "I just, thinking of her doing this alone without me…" he murmured, half to himself, "I should be there helping, she shouldn't be on her own. She was scared, man, she was scared." About the possibility of being pregnant. About Dean hanging up on her and disappearing. And that was what had happened. It killed him. "And every single day I'm here is like…" Dean faltered as the question he strung himself out over came to the surface. "Am I a father, Cas? Like… do I have a son? A, a daughter? If I do—if James really was—you know, pregnant—then… then Jamie's not the only one who needs me right now."

Cas nodded slightly, listening to Dean and taking a moment to reply. They'd had quite a few of these deep, tough conversations the past few months. That tended to happen when you were with someone twenty-four-seven and running for your lives and trying to keep hope about returning to the world you knew. It was surprising, actually, how insightful Cas could be. How understanding. Dean hadn't really seen that before about the angel. Maybe because he'd been so determined to resent him.

"How would that work, Dean?" Cas asked slowly, not trying to be combative, just honestly curious and concerned. "Hunting… it doesn't seem like a safe life for a child, let alone a newborn, and you and the wi—excuse me, Jamie Ward—are both hunters."

Dean shook his head once. He knew that. He'd thought about it. "Cross that bridge when I come to it," he said, then let his eyes lift to the forever-gray sky overhead. "If I ever get out of here." He resumed staring straight ahead, knowing one thing for damn sure. "But you can bet your ass on the fact that if I had a kid, if I am a dad, I would do anything for that little rugrat. Anything." A brief, self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "You think I'm crazy about Sam and Alex? You ain't seen nothin'."

Cas was quiet a moment, then asked a very surprising question indeed. "What about Benjamin Braeden?"

Although the question wasn't expected, Dean's answer came pretty quickly and factually once he got over the surprise factor. "Wasn't mine. Not by blood anyway." He looked down at his dirty hands again, sad at the loss of Lisa and Ben even though he knew it was for the best. They would always be part of his life, even if it had been a mistake… and there were some good memories there. Mostly centered around Ben, to be honest. "Still loved him like my own, but… he was some other guy's kid." Dean glanced at Cas sidelong. "I checked. DNA tests are pretty easy these days and… had to know. Didn't really believe Lisa, to be honest. Maybe I wanted him to be… but, he wasn't mine."

"I know," Cas replied offhandedly. Dean looked at him oddly. He knew? Cas shrugged mildly, his explanation simple and foreseeable: "I'm an angel."

"All right, Castiel, angel of the Lord and walking, talking paternity test," Dean said, not sure whether to be amused or rueful. "Great." All this baby talk had Dean's mind turning to a pretty sensitive question. Last time he'd brought this up Cas had shut down pretty fast and gotten upset, requested not to talk about it. But Dean took a chance and asked. Just… very carefully. Because he really felt like he had to know. "Did—did you know? When… when Al was…" he trailed off, his chest tight.

Cas's face when this subject came up. The look was unforgettable and he became very quiet and somber, haunted almost. "No," he said softly after a very long, difficult pause. "I didn't know." He looked off into the woods, his features set tensely in a regretful, mournful expression. "I was devoid of angelic ability at the time. If I had known… well, I think we may be alike in that respect, Dean. I would have done anything in Heaven, Hell, or in between to protect... the life I had part in creating." His voice caught and weakened. "Now… i-it's… it's too late." The weight of the pain Cas carried was audible and sobering, making Dean sorry he asked. "It's a terrible feeling. One of the worst ones I've ever experienced." Castiel looked down, his face a map of pain. "I don't think I would have been a good father, Dean." He looked miserable. "I wasn't a good anything else. I'm… a terrible friend and a poor excuse for an angel. I don't even deserve the term husband anymore. If I ever did at all." Before Dean could reply (although he wasn't sure what to say in return), Cas decided to shut down the topic at hand, change the subject, and hit Dean over the head with a pretty unexpected question. "So. Will you marry Jamie Ward if she is indeed the mother of your child?"

Dean gaped and his mouth worked like a dying fish's as he tried to find a response. "Wha—well—I mean, I kinda doubt she'd go for that, Cas…" he managed. He'd never once thought about that.

Cas smiled faintly, almost ruefully. "Perhaps you don't know her as well as you think, Dean. The few times I've seen her, I've sensed…" he paused and thought a moment for the right words, "a strong desire for belonging and stability."

Although Dean kind of knew that already about her, he was pretty quickly felt discouraged to hear it out loud. "Stability," he repeated blankly. "Yeah, that's… not me." He was dependable, but not stable. There was a pretty big difference. It felt disheartening somehow. A reminder of his inadequacies and shortcomings and how he felt incapable of being what anyone needed or wanted. "I'm barely boyfriend material let alone… whatever else." He tried to laugh derisively. "Not like you, Cas... Mr. Morality or whatever…"

Cas smiled softly, an action tinged by regret and sadness. "I would hardly call myself that." He sighed softly, deep in thought as his eyes scanned the ominously quiet woods before them. "You'll see her again, Dean. I'll make sure of it. If it's the last thing I do." His heavy tone and depressed demeanor inspired one reaction.

Dean made a face. "Quit talking like you're never getting out of here, dude. You got a girl to get back to just like me."

Ashamed, Cas's face and voice both showed great, heartbroken grief. "She wouldn't want me anymore, Dean," he said faintly. "It's been nothing but failure after failure on my part."

"Oh come on, man," Dean protested—they had been around this circuit like a hundred times before here in Purgatory and Cas went from eagerly wanting to get back to earth to being depressed over his past actions and reluctant to even try. "You got your shit together now, you're past the crap that turned you into Bizarro Cas." Dean waited for a reply and none came, so he prompted the angel a little loudly. "I mean, you gave me your word, remember?"

Cas remembered. Of course he did. The day he and Dean had hit each other black and blue, they'd hashed out every last damn thing that had been putting a wedge between him. Dean had basically said that if Cas gave him his word on his life, his father god, his holy halo, whatever else—that Dean would give Cas a clean slate. Cas had said he didn't deserve that, Dean had yelled 'fuck what you deserve! I'm giving you a second chance now take it you asshole!' Really sweet, touching stuff, right? But Cas had promised. Given his word. That he would live up to Dean giving him this second chance.

"I remember," Cas confirmed.

Dean nodded stiffly. "So, we're good. We shook on it. We are good." Being here in the land of monsters and sleeplessness, fighting with Cas at his side… it had changed things for Dean. Given him too much time to think, given him a lot of insight into who Castiel the angel was, given him a lot of time to think over his own actions and stuff, too. "Like I said before." Dean looked at Cas sidelong. Squinty, weird, nerdy Cas who his sister loved and had picked and wasn't gonna walk away from. "She's made her choice and it's you. I get that now, and I'm—I'm okay with stepping back and letting you two take the steering wheel on this." He raised his hands briefly in a mock gesture of surrender. "Hey, it's your ship to sail, not mine."

Castiel was deep in distressed thought. He barely responded to Dean. "Her choice used to be me," he said quietly. "Now… I don't know." He let a long silence stretch out before he spoke again. "I think we'll always love each other, Dean. I know I'll always love her. But the pain of it all and the things I've done, the ways I've damaged her heart over and over… it might be too much for her." You could hear how much he loved her and how afraid he was to hurt her again. "I'm afraid to fail, Dean. I couldn't bear it if I disappointed her or hurt her again, I couldn't." Defeated and forlorn, Cas gave one final, dismal observation: "Love is so complicated. So painful."

The guy needed one thing, obviously: a hug. But Dean had a short list of people in the world he would willingly hug, and Cas wasn't one of them. So he decided to end the sad train and get them back to focusing on doing what they could do currently. Being down in the dumps wasn't gonna get either of them back to their ladies. "Way I see it, you gotta figure all that out between the two of yourselves," he counseled. "Which is gonna happen when we get outta here." He thumped Cas hard on the back twice and stood up, taking his weapon with him as he did. He tried to lighten the mood with a dip into playfulness. "What do you think, Uncle Cas?"

Cas remained seated on the rock with a deeply quizzical frown on his grimy face. "…Are you saying that as a reference back to the vampire's comment, or because you're implying I'm your brother in spirit and therefore the uncle to the child you potentially have with Jamie Ward?" he asked, eyes squinting deeply.

"Good question, Brainiac," Dean said, remaining mysterious and chuckling a little at Cas's phrasing.

Refocusing immediately when he heard the telltale snap! of a cracking limb nearby, he turned fast. Benny still lurked nearby in the trees, and he was looking toward the cracking noise too, his weapon at the ready as he carefully snuck closer to the source of the sound. Dean felt Cas come to his side. The angel's machete was already out and his gameface was on. There was another rustling in the trees and Dean gripped his weapon tighter, already knowing they were about to go another round.

"Well, here we go again," he muttered, shaking his head. The nightmare never ended. That was the only guarantee in this god-forsaken place.

Later
New Orleans International Airport

Some adventures were too unbelievable to be real. But to the girl who had been mute for twenty plus years then been able to speak with no problem, to the girl who killed ghosts and hunted monsters for a living, to the girl who walked with angels and worked for demons… discovering the Garden of Eden was actually a pretty humble, reasonable accomplishment in her mind.

As Flight 576 taxied in after touching down, the passengers around Alex were restlessly preparing to disembark. But she was looking down at the small object she cupped in her hands. There was a soft smile on her face because she had done it. Despite everything against her, she had done it. She had scaled down into that crag in the mountains and over the bones of the hundreds of people who had died there before—she had stood plastered against solid stone, her feet barely fitting along a couple-inch ledge that overlooked a hundred-foot drop. She had looked down at the skeletons of those who had fallen from where she carefully edged with a heart beating out of her chest. She had crammed herself into the tiny, dark tunnel that came after that and crawled for what felt like miles in total darkness as rock pressed down at her and reminded her that she would be trapped for the rest of eternity in this place if she got stuck. She had emerged from that tunnel into the most lush and vibrant oasis she had ever seen, at the center of which a huge tree grew. The Tree of Life, if the legends were true. The Garden wasn't very large—it almost looked as though God had taken the mountains and formed them around and over the original Garden, blocking it in and downsizing it so that no one could ever enter it or see it again. It was completely enclosed by stone—a huge dome of solid rock arching above the entirety of the place. Light glowed from the plants inexplicably, especially the tree which had to be at least a hundred feet high. Alex had gone to that tree, her weapon out because she had read in the bible that an angel with a flaming sword guarded this place. But she met no one and found wings scarred across the large, gnarled roots of the Tree of Life. Someone else had killed the Garden's keeper, probably long ago. But what she searched for, what she had risked life and limb for hadn't been taken. She found it lodged into the trunk of the tree of life: a small, red stone with a white symbol branded onto it. A symbol that looked like a tree almost, one that matched the piece of paper Alex had gotten from the mysterious stranger who helped her fight out of SucroCorp. So, knowing she had found the Waymaker, Alex used her angel blade to wedge the stone out, and when she did, Eden began to crumble all around her…

As she sat in an air conditioned airplane that was coming to a stop at an airport gate, Alex looked out at the bleak, boring scenery out of the window she sat next to. It was so surreal to have stood at the foot of the Tree of Life and narrowly escaped being buried with Eden as it collapsed inward. She had run faster than she ever had in her life and jumped further as chunks of ground fell away from under her feet. Indiana Jones? He would have been proud. She had escaped just barely and now was sitting in rows of seating like she was as normal and bored as the rest of the people on the flight. She closed her hand around the stone in her hand tightly and pocketed it. She was home free as soon as she got off this plane. She was gonna get her boys back. A mild instance of hopefulness and happiness welled in her heart at that thought, even though she knew she'd only have ten days with them once they were topside again. It was sort of fitting, really, a bittersweet ending to the book called Alex Winchester. She was going to save them after they'd had to save her so many times. She was finally going to make good on her life and use it for something that really mattered. She wasn't going to be stuck alive and immortal forever, her brothers would live and she would die knowing she'd done the right thing. But ten days wasn't long enough. How could she ever explain that to Dean, Cas, and Sam? The hardest thing in all of this was Cas. She knew how deep his heart went. It would hurt him like it had hurt her when he'd died. She worried if he would be able to take it.

That is, if he wasn't dead already. Purgatory didn't sound like a friendly place. Worries over her brother and her angel made her sick inside as usual and she refused to think about it. The mission first. Worrying wouldn't do anything but slow her down at this point.

When Alex got off Flight 576 and found the Impala where she'd left it in paid parking at the airport, the first thing she did was get her phone out and call Sam's old number—she'd given the corresponding phone to Zip, and he was her way in to Purgatory. And even though the trip to Iran had exhausted her, she wasn't about to stop now. She had to finish strong and make every day matter.

She expected to hear the Leviathan's voice on the other end of her phone. So when a male voice she didn't immediately recognize answered and asked hello she faltered. "Uh—who the hell is this?" she asked, starting to get mad fast. If Zip had tried to pull something…

"Um… it's Kevin," came the unsure, cautious reply. "Who's this?"

Alex balked immediately because she recognized his voice the second he identified himself. "Kevin?" she repeated, relief and awed surprise making her jaw drop. "Advanced placement prophet Kevin?" At his confused silence, she realized she maybe needed to identify herself. "This is Alex. Winchester."

Kevin's surprise was audible and he sounded like the breath had been knocked out of him. "…Alex? Oh my god, where have you been? Are you okay?"

"Are you?" she asked urgently, because she'd been worrying about him and wondering regularly about him. Then she did a mental double take because this didn't make sense. "Wait. What are you doing with Sam's old phone?"

"Kyle left it here while he went to the store."

Alex's eyes bulged. "Kyle?"

Kevin sounded less certain. "Yeah, Kyle Young…?" he asked slowly, doubtfully. "Friend of yours, a hunter…?" Alex listened with a completely shell-shocked expression on her face. Kyle Young was Zip's 'real' name. But what was he doing with Kevin and why did Kevin think 'Kyle' was their friend and a hunter? She was immediately suspicious and even a little afraid Kevin was being played or maybe even in unknowing captivity. Kevin, however, had other things he was wondering about—he sounded less worried now and more angry. "What happened to you guys? You just disappeared—I had to escape from Crowley all by myself and then I couldn't get in touch with you or Sam or Dean, only with Kyle."

Alex felt a little mindfucked and decided this was a conversation that had to be had in person. "Look, I'll explain it all to you when I see you, all right? Where are you?"

The Next Day
The Daily Grind Coffee and Tea Shop
Fairfield, Iowa

Kevin refused to give her his actual location and gave her the address of a coffee shop instead, saying he would rather meet in public. That was Alex's first indication that Kevin had changed. She sat and waited at an outdoor table like he'd told her on the phone, rolling her eyes as she checked her watch impatiently. Okay, James Bond, where are you? She crossed her arms and suspiciously watched people pass on the sidewalk. And then she saw him. Kevin stood across the street and he had changed more than Alex thought. Last she'd seen him he was shaggy-haired and dressed in formal clothing. Now he had shortly-shorn hair underneath a baseball cap (she guessed because he was trying to be inconspicuous). He wore a dark hoodie over a plain t-shirt and he looked a lot more wearied. She guessed he would have to be, fighting for survival on his own.

He crossed the street at the crosswalk (what a rebel, right?) just up from the coffee shop then approached her doubtfully, eyeing her like he wasn't sure if she was the real thing or not. "Well you look different," Alex said as he sat down gingerly, watchfully across from her at the tiny outdoor table. And that's when he whipped out a water gun and squirted her in the face with soapy water. Alex sputtered and spat. "Hey!" She reeled back in her chair in surprise.

Kevin shrugged, wincing just a little. "Had to."

"Dude, I just drove like fourteen hours and I'm tired and I'm human and I'm me!" Alex protested.

Kevin wasn't the little mousy guy he'd been before—he leaned over the table and basically glared at her. "Then why haven't I heard from you in… what, eight, nine months now?"

"I had plans to bust you out. And then you did bust out." She studied him uncertainly, wondering what exactly had transpired over the past however many months. "I honestly figured you probably were hiding from people like me." Hunters. People in The Life. She had to amend herself with mild chagrin. "That, and, well. I've been pretty busy."

"Your brothers been busy, too?" Kevin asked, clearly resentful. "I mean, I could have used some help!"

Alex was full of genuine remorse. Poor kid having to tread these deep waters by himself. She sighed and rested an elbow onto the table, rubbing her forehead briefly. "I'm sorry, I was definitely going to track you down as soon as I was done with some stuff I had to take ca—" she sputtered again and fell back in her chair as Kevin abruptly flung water at her from a flask he'd had in his pocket. She threw her hands up in disbelief as water dripped down her face. "Really?! Holy water?!"

Kevin looked mildly sorry about it, but he shrugged helplessly. "Can you blame me for being paranoid?"

"Guess not," she muttered, realizing he was actually being pretty smart. Even if she was going to be wet for awhile. Alex shook off her hands and wiped her face on the back of her sleeve, eyeing Kevin closely. He still looked young and petrified, but tougher, too. Look at him being so cautious and street-smart. She felt like he'd come into his own somehow and it was bittersweet. "You really embraced the life, huh?" she asked, a little sad because she remembered him wanting to go to college and pursue this huge, important, normal life. And here he was in obvious hiding and fear, assuming everyone was the enemy.

"I've had to," Kevin said, somber and quiet, his dark, expressive eyes flickering over her face hesitantly. "Sorry. About the water. I… just had to be sure." He looked around briefly, evidence of his paranoia. "Everyone's after me. If it hadn't been for Kyle… he's helped me a lot. And all his family died recently, too, so… it was just me and him trying to keep each other alive."

Alex couldn't quite believe the irony here and at the mention of Zip, she got more than a little cynical. "So, you check to see if I'm a Leviathan, but not him?" Kevin's face showed immediate confusion and Alex lost it—did he really not know? "Kyle, aka Zip, is a Leviathan, Kevin!" she exclaimed. "How do you not know that?! Didn't you see him at SucroCorp?"

Kevin looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "N-no," he said, his color draining. "What? A Leviathan?"

Alex was pretty to the point. "Born and raised."

"He's not a—no way—!" Kevin protested, obviously trying to understand his rocking world.

Alex remembered the moment she'd found out, too. "Trust me. He is. So… run away or cut his head off. Don't trust him—he'll screw you over and then stab you in the back." She realized she was getting way ahead of herself and calmed it down slightly. "But before you do anything too drastic I kind of… need his help, so uh…"

Kevin blinked once, his boyish features showing total sick confusion. "T-this makes no sense."

A young man in his late teens abruptly sidled out from behind a huge potted bush nearby and he plopped down and sat between Alex and Kevin at another side of the table, his hands in his hoodie pockets and his posture terrible as he slouched in the seat. He gave Alex a wan smile. "You know, it's considered rude to talk about people behind their backs."

She blinked at him and gave him a rude look, not recognizing him. "…And who are you supposed to be?"

He looked nineteen or twenty and faintly insolent. He was blond and unkempt, his matted hair looked like he'd stood in the beach wind for an hour then patted it back down and decided he couldn't bothered to fix it.. "It's me," he said, and then Alex realized with dawning dismay… oh yeah. Leviathan could change appearances.

"…Zip?"

The name made him visibly uncomfortable. "It's Kyle now." He pointed to his changed appearance, a smartass little expression on his features. "New face, fresh start." Near him, Kevin was leaning away from the Leviathan, his hand around his watergun full of borax water.

"You're so full of shit," Alex muttered, wanting to jump out of her chair and strangle him. But she kept calm forcibly because information was power and beating people's brains in could come later. "So, what, you wanted the prophet for yourself? What's your angle?"

Zip, Kyle, whoever he was looked offended. "There is no angle." He looked at Kevin and was obviously upset to see the mistrust on Kevin's face. "I needed a friend. He called the phone you gave me and… he needed a friend too." Zip leaned forward, trying to appear earnest. "I swear, Alex, I'm different. I'm a hunter now. I'm gonna make a good life for myself, I'm gonna try and fix my mistakes. W-we've even been hunting Leviathan together here and there, Kevin and me."

Absolute aghast surprise made her raise her eyebrows, then Alex let out a derisive little laugh. "Well that is irony if I've ever heard it." She made eye contact with Kevin, who looked like he felt akin to the world's biggest idiot. "Kevin, first rule of hunting." She was gently firm and rueful. "Know who you're hunting with."

Kevin obviously had gotten that and he was pretty beside himself. "You lied to me," he said in a softly shocked voice, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. "This whole time."

Alex watched Zip's face betray his inner feelings of regret and guilt. "Yeah, 'cause I know exactly how it goes when people know what I really am," he muttered, looking away. His eyes held vast pain that didn't fit with his young face.

"You could have told me," Kevin said sharply.

There was a self-deprecating scoff. "And lose the only friend I had?" Zip asked. "That happened to me before." He looked down, hanging his head practically.

His melodrama didn't interest Alex. "Look, before you disappear or throw a fit, you owe me how to get into Purgatory," she said, leaning toward him threateningly over the table.

He looked up, studying her cautiously. "...You got the Wayfinder?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Alex pulled out her cell phone and showed him a picture of the stone as she gave him a challenging look. Zip's dark brown eyes flickered to her questioningly. "Not with me, because I'm not stupid," she said thinly, almost amused at how dumb he must think she was. "You think I'd let a Leviathan who knows how to get into that place have the way out of Purgatory?" He could release all the monsters back into the world for all she knew.

Zip's offended disbelief grew into hurt. "When are you gonna get it?" he asked, voice sharp with quiet anger. "I'm not—" he took a deep breath and abandoned his previous sentence. "I'm trying." He looked between Alex and Kevin, trying to find sympathy and understanding. "I just need someone to believe I'm not the bad guy here, 'cause I'm not."

Alex crossed her arms and gave him a long look even as Kevin remained silent and brooding. "Talk is cheap," Alex said. "Now out with it. Purgatory. How do I get in."

Zip tapped his fingers all at once on the table idly, eyeing them as he did so. "Getting in isn't the problem," he said somberly, then his dark eyes snapped up to hers. "Staying alive is."

Two Weeks Later
Maine's 100 Mile Wilderness

A young woman traveled alone into the heart of the utter wild with little else besides weapons and a backpack put over one shoulder. She looked severe and ready for battle. The few hikers she had encountered had all made quick work to get out of her way. At her thigh, a machete was strapped and in her belt a large hunting knife gleamed. Hidden in her jacket an angel blade, and slung over a shoulder, a modern crossbow—a silent and effective way to kill any variety of fanged and clawed baddies without having to get too close. Rugged combat boots reached up to mid calf and her hair was pulled back tightly from her head into a ponytail. She'd backpacked into the uninhabited and uncharted for two days now, and was at last reaching her final destination. Zip's instructions, the crude map he was able to piece together from legend, said that a traveler would find a perfect circle clearing when heading Northwards in these woods. And Alex had just found that clearing.

This had to be it. Nothing at all grew in the large circle of dirt surrounded by trees. It was a blank canvas, an unnatural and peculiar place.

With a quickening heart rate and the growing worry that she would go to Purgatory and find her brother and husband dead, Alex crouched down in the center of that circle and began to draw the spell in the dirt with the tip of her machete. There was no time to consider that this wouldn't work. Cas and Dean would be alive, she knew they would. She referenced the symbol Zip had drawn for her frequently as she worked, and finished the huge, several-feet-across symbol in less than thirty minutes. Next step: she took out one of the vials of Leviathan ooze that Zip had given her and wrinkled her nose just slightly at the black sludge. Zip didn't know, but the original amount he'd given her? She'd divided it into thirds. Just in case. She let the first third of ooze pour down into the center of the symbol she'd drawn in the ground like he'd told her to do. The final step was to light a match and let it light the ooze up. She struck the fire and watched the flame drop to her feet then blaze to life. This was it. She took out her machete once more, gripping it with white knuckles as her nerves began to sing.

"Hinc animam meam ad purgatorium," she murmured, the words that would send her to the realm beyond.

Upon incantation, black energy burst out from the symbol and the ground was snatched away as the sky went to nothing. Without any fanfare, Alex was plunged into the darkness of the unknown.