Song Remains the Same

Chapter 112 / Consign Me Not to Darkness

"Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul.
I find myself searching the crowds for your face.
I know it's an impossibility, but I cannot help myself."
- Nicholas Sparks

The Next Day

An angel in a trench coat stood alone on a foggy morning outside of a building with an elegant steeple. With eyes empty and hands that were emptier still, he faced the little church and remained unmoving for what was turning into hours. The lights inside the building glowed through the glass windows like beacons in the morning chill, warmly promising hope and comfort that Castiel felt sure wasn't possible to obtain. What could ever alleviate the pain he felt; the despair that filled his every waking moment? The only sunshine in his life had been snuffed out forever.

Cas's mournful gaze slid to the nearby church billboard for what must have been the hundredth time. See Us Inside About Grief Counseling. His eyes went to the church again and he fought himself on whether or not to go inside and seek help. Something inside of him kept saying no. No, Castiel.

Some unknown force kept him rooted to the spot even though his wounded emotions begged him to find a way to lessen the pain that was slowly destroying his heart and mind. Grief. It ate him alive. It was every moment of every day. It was the weight on his shoulders and the shadow that had taken over his entire world.

Grief was a name, Alex—a person who was loved beyond the description of words; a person who was utterly gone. Grief was the thought of her smile and her laugh and the trust that had rested in the depths of her hazel eyes—it was the sound of his name from her lips—it was the comfort of her arms around him. Those were all things he would never have back ever again. And that was the cold reality. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Castiel thought about the very worst thing in all of existence: she's gone. And it didn't make sense. In every possible way, it didn't make sense. Nothing was bright anymore. Nothing gave him hope and everything made him feel worse. He wasn't sure why he was still even alive at this point. He quite literally could not carry the feeling that her loss had inspired in him. His heart and mind were being ripped apart painfully, slowly, endlessly and he couldn't take it much longer. Each tick of the clock keeping time of the universe only served to destroy the angel further. What was left for him if not her? Guilt and grief and confusion were drowning him anew. The knowledge that this was his fault plagued him.

In a flash of disconnected, blurry memories, he recalled her returning to Purgatory for him but she'd been oddly and inexplicably sick. Pale, weak, slow, feeble. Why? He questioned that and then suddenly felt he shouldn't question it. In fact, questioning that fact was bad.

Accept what you're told. Stop questioning everything, Castiel. I've told you what's at stake if you don't obey.

Left in a daze, Cas remembered the way Alex had rapidly gone downhill and gotten sicker and sicker in the endless wasteland of Purgatory. It had ended without real warning. They had been trying to fight their way out of that hellscape one moment, then he'd been holding her on the ground as she died in his arms the next. He remembered fingers clutching him and the sound of her lungs failing as her eyes showed wild panic. And he could do nothing. "You have to serve Heaven," she had told him with her last breaths as he begged her not to die. "For me, Castiel. Promise me." Cas faltered… why would she say that to him? It didn't make sense. Alex had never cared about Heaven before. And she had never told Castiel where to place his allegiances. She had always wanted him to choose for himself. And she didn't call him Castiel. Not often.

…Something is wrong here, he thought. Very, very wrong.

No. Everything is fine.

The conflicting voices in his mind only served to upset him further. Everything was not fine and never would be, but for reasons he couldn't remember and didn't know, Castiel accepted his lot in life and agreed to stop questioning everything.

Serve Heaven and maybe she lives, Castiel.

Eyes filling with tears as he thought of the woman he loved to the point of a dull ache in his chest, Castiel tightened his jaw and felt his breathing quicken as he tried to regulate his wavering emotions. He wanted to weep for all the helplessness and confusion he felt. But what good would that do?

Footsteps sounded behind him, a soft tap-tap slowly ambling up the sidewalk. A small, hunched over elderly gentleman stopped there near Cas and seeing his despondency this man hesitated, then offered a greeting. "Hello young man," he said, and his kindly faded blue eyes were genuine, concerned, and curious. "Is something wrong?" His voice rasped weakly, all the vibrancy taken away by the years he'd lived. "Can I help you?"

The older man had a name tag on that identified him as a church deacon. Cas was completely humbled and vulnerable in that moment because he needed hope and help so badly. "I—I'm not sure," he began uncertainly. "I—"

And then there was a flash of sterile white, a severe warning, and a jumping sensation in his heart.

Walk away. Go back to the Winchester boys.

Becoming withdrawn and grim, Cas shook his head and backed away from the elderly man. "Never mind," he said, and then walked away as he had been told… but he didn't remember being told. He only remembered knowing he had to obey because the stakes were so high. And then, two seconds later, he didn't even remember knowing that.

Gas-n-Sip
Red Oak, Iowa

After calling Dean using the phone the boys had gotten him yesterday, Cas reunited with them in Iowa. They were on the move again even though they had no job lined up. Perhaps it was out of the need to do something and occupy themselves—the need to fill their time with something other than thinking, dwelling, and hurting. Whatever it was, Cas didn't ask. Speaking took an energy he didn't possess. So, while Sam fueled the car up and stared off into the distance sightlessly, as Dean wandered around the convenience store looking for breakfast with a stony expression, Cas followed him aimlessly, eyeing the aisles and their contents with melancholy half-interest and growing sadness. Every last thing he saw in that place reminded him of what was lost. The candies, the packaged snack foods—his eyes searched for and went to her favorites and his heart ached and ached and ached. Every time he saw something he recognized, the ache got worse and the pain twisted his insides more deeply. And then he came to a section of the aisle that had items marked 'feminine hygiene' and he abruptly crumbled because it was all too much. He remembered when she had needed some of these items and had taken him with her to get them—she'd been drunk and laughing and making jokes with him and looking at him with eyes full of life, promise, affection. Castiel picked up a box of tampons very slowly and stared at it like he had never beheld anything more heart-wrenching.

He remembered how in love he'd been, back then.

How in love he was still.

How in love he always would be.

It broke him. And in the middle of the gas station convenience store, the angel began to cry under the weight of all the impossible feelings he was consumed by. Immediately, he drew stares, but he didn't notice. He used his free hand to support himself against the shelf as his mind spun and his heart wrenched and every last nerve he possessed was numbed and seared alike by pain. And then he sensed someone close looking at him and through swimming vision, he pathetically looked over to see who was gawking. A gas station employee—a late-teens person with thick-rimmed glasses and short messy hair and a lip ring stared at him dumbly. "Dude." They gaped, expression hovering between weirded out and very concerned. "…You okay?"

The way this person looked at him made him remember that it wasn't socially acceptable in America to cry in public. With every ounce of control he had, he made himself stop. He glanced around and sniffed, seeing other patrons and their odd, uncomfortable stares. Near the coffee bar, Dean was watching him, too. But he only looked like he commiserated with the weeping. Then Dean looked away, dodging his friend's teary gaze. Castiel refocused on the person who had asked him if he was okay. His eyes went to the employee's name tag. It said Hello, My Name is Rayne (they/them). What a question Rayne was posing to him. What a sad state of reality he found himself in. Was he okay? He shook his head no, embarrassed and avoiding their gaze completely as he brushed pitifully at his wet cheeks. "No," he replied in a low, sad murmur. This next part was said more to himself than to them. "And I don't think I'll ever be okay ever again." He looked at the box of tampons he still held. Perhaps it wasn't the most eloquent symbol nor the most appropriate. But it was an unrelenting reminder of his loss. Important to him, somehow. As was everything concerning Alex. His expression wavered as he looked at that box.

Although this gas station employee was a total stranger, they eyed Cas a couple beats longer and took in his obvious distress then cautiously, uncertainly showed him some grace. "Hey, uh, take the tampons, man. No charge, all right?" Confused, Cas looked at this employee more closely. They had no idea of what was plaguing him, but they were nevertheless trying to do something kind. They obviously sensed how deep down his sorrow went and his heart unclenched, just a little. Rayne's eyes went to the tampons and then back to Cas, and they gave him a tight, unsure smile. "Um, hopefully things can get better for you soon?" they asked, their tone a little shy and nervous and awkward.

Startled and humbled by the small act of kindness and the words of encouragement, Cas finally really looked at this human being. Some people, he could see more of than others. Rayne Pasquerelli was one who was easy to see into for him. Rayne was a young, single parent who was going to school online to get a degree and make a better life for themself and their child. Rayne worked themself ragged here at the gas station, sacrificing everything they had once had in a personal life, and never complained about it… even if they wanted to. Their parents had disowned them for getting pregnant so young and for identifying as non-binary—the bills were sky high, the state assistance wasn't enough. Rayne had the painful beginnings of young-onset rheumatoid arthritis, their anxiety disorder made everything difficult, and they basically had very few people on their side. They were tired, depressed, worn out, and felt like they were up against an impossible world, but they were also determined. Rayne loved their child Joey more than anything, and their goal in life was to leave the world a little better than they had found it. Joey gave the drive to be better every day and to help others who needed help. And all of that was inspirational to Cas and left him feeling thunderstruck.

"Thank you," he said, saying the words with every ounce of earnestness he felt. He suddenly felt like he should be helping Rayne.

They nodded once, obviously feeling awkward and uncomfortable under his intense, unwavering gaze. "Yup. Don't um, mention it." Rayne mumbled those last few words then poked at some items on the nearby shelf, trying to look like they had official business there, then they scurried off and back to the safety of the checkout counter.

Cas watched Rayne go. It was amazing, really. Human beings and their willingness to help others even when they themselves were facing such dire straits. Maybe he should be the same. Perhaps people out there like Rayne… perhaps he could help them in some way. Maybe that could be his purpose now. It would bring honor to Alex. It would 'do right by her' as Dean had said yesterday. And in that moment, he made his decision. Cas set the box of tampons back onto the shelf and wandered up the aisle, his eyes landing on the newspaper. An idea came to him and he picked up the newspaper and looked over at Rayne who was already watching him. "Can I have this instead?" he asked.

They eyed him a couple seconds and shrugged although they appeared to be questioning themself at that point. "Uh sure, whatever you want, buddy."

He marveled at the tenacity of the human spirit because he knew even at that very moment Rayne was battling physical pain and fatigue. "You're very kind, Rayne," Cas observed quietly, then approached and touched their hand on the countertop.

"Hey, what—!" they began, flustered.

Cas had already taken his hand away. "I don't think you'll have problems with the arthritis anymore," he said, his expression secretive and knowing but tainted by the sadness that followed him everywhere now. Without anything further, he turned and headed out of the store with his newspaper. Rayne watched him walk out and then looked at their hand and flexed it with a dumbstruck look on their face. The stiffness and constant dull ache was gone. How?! They looked after the retreating man's form and they were speechless.

A surly looking young man with green eyes and devastatingly good looks rapped on the counter rudely, demanding attention. "Hey you, any day now," he said, indicating the two coffees he was waiting to pay for.

Sam leaned against the back of the Impala as he nodded and held the cell phone to his ear. "Right, yeah," he said, distracted and barely listening to the animated voice on the other end. "No, just, uh—just call us whenever you find something." He quickly added in an important reminder: "Something legit, not just, you know… um, more of the same stuff you've been calling about." Wrong thing to say. A couple seconds later, he was backpedaling and kicking himself mentally as Mrs. Tran squawked indignantly in his ear. "No, no, of course not—no, no, I'm not trying to be rude—" Dean finally reappeared from inside the gas station store, coffees in hand and a stony mask for a face. Sam watched him idly as he approached. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. Right. No, I—I, uh…" Dean shoved a cup of coffee at Sam when he got there and Sam took the opportunity to duck the phone call. "Yeah, hey, you know what? Uh, Dean's here. He really wants to talk to you." Sam handed the phone over and mouthed 'Mrs. Tran.' It had only been about twelve hours since they had gotten the Trans situated and she had already called like five times to report in with basically nothing to report at all.

Looking utterly done with Sam's palm off, Dean took the phone and put on a falsely chipper tone. "Mrs. Tran, yeah, hi, uh—" he pushed the end call button and threw the phone back at Sam abruptly. "Tunnel," he explained sarcastically. "So, what's going on in Tran-land?"

Sam gave a heavy sigh. "Same thing as the other ten times she called. Kevin's having trouble reading their half of the tablet. Nothing about boarding up Hell from what he can make of it."

Dean was grim. "Yeah. Awesome." He took a sip of his drink and apparently the taste of it launched him more deeply into depression. "Dude this coffee sucks," he complained flatly. He looked like he had never had a worse day in all his life. Something told Sam it wasn't the coffee that had his brother looking so morose.

Ever since finding out about Alex… what had happened to her… each day seemed worse and sadder than the last. "It's better than nothing," Sam offered with a hollow shrug, eyeing his own coffee and feeling aversion to the thought of drinking it. They didn't talk about her. Dean in particular refused. That left Sam to the wiles of his own mind where the feeling, the instinct carried on that she wasn't really dead. He didn't want to believe she was dead, it just didn't feel right, but he logically knew he probably should believe it. After all, Cas wouldn't lie, and if he were convinced, shouldn't Sam be convinced, too? But there was a faint sense in the back of Sam's mind and heart that kept bugging him and saying that if there was even a chance she might still be out there—he should find out. But Dean refused to hear it. So for now, Sam left it alone and wrote off his own feelings as that of grief and denial.

Seeming to sense that Sam's thoughts were on their sister, Dean physically distanced himself, ambling down toward where Cas leaned at the front of the Impala with a newspaper. The angel was reading it in stern focus and did not look up at Dean's approach. "What's the word, Cas?" Dean asked in a forcibly casual tone.

"It's a shortened version of my name," Cas mumbled in reply, his frown still aimed at the paper.

Dean was a little perturbed by the typical comment from the literally-minded angel. "Yes," he sighed. "Yes it is. I meant what's the word on the Word? Any, uh, tablet chatter on angel radio?"

"Oh." Cas glanced at Dean almost grudgingly. "I… don't know," he said. "I turned that off."

Sam's interest was piqued even as he wondered why. "You can do that?"

"Yes, it's a simple matter of blocking out certain subsonic frequencies," Cas supplied stiffly. "I could draw you a diagram if you want."

Dean looked short on patience. "No, that's—we're good. Why'd you flip the switch?"

Cas hesitated, ill-prepared to answer the question for a beat before the emotion on his face was wiped away. He answered blandly as he folded up the newspaper delicately. "Because it's a direct link to Heaven. And I don't want anything to do with that place anymore."

Visibly surprised, Dean considered his answer for a second before accepting it. "Uh. Okay." He eyed the angel in confused discernment and shared a brief glance with Sam. Weird. "So what now?"

Cas took in a deep, slow breath and thought a second before replying. "Well, we look for signs of Crowley and wait for him to hopefully reappear with the other half of the tablet. And in the meantime…" he looked down, becoming almost contrite. "I've decided that I need to help people. That I need to… to save people." His jaw tightened. "Carry on your sister's legacy in a way and, as you said, make what she did for us count." His sad eyes met Dean's and then Sam's. He drew his shoulders a little higher and tried to look more confident, more hopeful. "So… I'm gonna become a hunter."

Sam's eyebrows rose faintly—he had not expected that. "Really," he commented in slight doubtfulness. He didn't know if Cas had the stomach or the mindset for it—but he guessed if losing a loved one was the starting block for hunting, Cas met the prerequisite.

"Yes," Cas said, then indicated the paper he had folded up. "And I found us a case. Oklahoma City—a man's heart jumped ten feet out of his chest. That sounds like our kind of thing, right?"

Dean looked pleasantly surprised and glanced at his brother. Mildly impressed, Sam nodded. "Yeah, it does," he said, and could literally see his brother's thought process: a job. A distraction. Something to do. People to save. A place to hide from his own feelings. Sam felt the same way.

And maybe Cas did too. "Good," the angel said, and nodded a goodbye before turning away. "I'll see you there."

Dean was already following him and grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him back around. "Wait wait wait, Cas, Cas! If you wanna play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine. But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap, capiche? You wanna be part of the team, you're in the car."

Cas looked severely disappointed. "I find car rides irksome and depressing," he muttered, eyeing the Impala with loathing.

"Dude, that's what being a human is all about," Dean retorted. "A million things pissing you off and or depressing you all day long." He paused and scrutinized Cas more somberly. "Anyway, I don't think you should be alone right now." The two of them exchanged a significant look—Cas was guilty, Dean was sympathetic. "Saw you in there crying over girl stuff, buddy." Sam frowned in confusion at that statement. Crying over girl stuff?

Peevishly, Cas conceded Dean's point. "I suppose you're right." With a hefty sigh, Cas agreed. "I'll ride with you, then." Dean nodded and began to round the car, heading for the driver's seat with his coffee still in hand. Cas slowly headed to the passenger side door. "Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat?" he ventured.

"No!" Dean and Sam said in unison even as Sam shouldered past Cas for his spot in the vehicle.

Dean started the engine and glanced back as the angel got into the back seat. Cas had an odd look on his face and he was looking at the seat with an intense, sad stare. "Yo," Dean said. "Earth to Cas."

The angel didn't look up. Merely placed a hand down onto the seat beside himself sadly. "This is where she sat," he murmured.

Sam and Dean were both momentarily speechless, stilled by Cas's observation and the out-of-the-blue reminder. The atmosphere of heavy grief returned. Similarly quieted and troubled, the brothers exchanged a brief, guilty glance. Perhaps they were not mourning as publicly or as intentionally as they should have. It was like they were just trying to forget her and save themselves the pain. And Cas was in the gas station crying over girl stuff and sitting in the back seat and touching it with a reverent, sad hand as he allowed himself to grieve her and think about her.

"Yeah," Dean finally managed. "Yeah it is where she sat."

Sam glanced back at Cas, similarly guilty like Dean was. "Still want the front seat?" he offered.

Cas shook his head once, not meeting either gaze. "No," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hundred unspoken sorrows. "I want to sit here." Where she used to sit.

Dean took in a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself because it was hard in moments like that. "Fair enough," he said in a stiff, gravelly voice. He put the car in drive and they hit the road. Dean did not turn on the music. Nothing was said for a very long time—thirty minutes or more. But all three men were deep in thought, each of them lost in worries, fears, doubts, guilts. And sadness. So much sadness.

Sighing in veiled frustration, Cas took his eyes off the passing scenery about forty-five minutes in to the journey. "I don't know how you do this all the time," he complained.

Dean shrugged a shoulder up faintly. "You get used to it, Cas."

"You never get used to it," Sam countered wryly.

A couple long seconds passed in which the constant background noise of the highway and the flying asphalt was punctuated by the rhythmic squeaking of the car body. Dean, who kept glancing back at Cas as if he were trying to decide something, finally spoke up. "Tell ya what, Cas. You can do a quick little field trip for me if you're up to it. Might break up your boring Tuesday commute."

Curious, Castiel frowned. "What is the errand?"

Dean cleared his throat and became self-conscious. "I uh, I want you to check on James, if you can," he said. At the surprised look he got from Sam, Dean was mildly defensive. "Just—just make sure she's… you know. Still, I dunno, alive. Haven't heard from her in awhile and it kinda blows huge chunks."

Cas squinted at the colloquialism but made no comment about it. Instead he readily agreed to do what his friend had asked of him. "Of course, Dean. I'll be back momentarily."

And then the angel disappeared into thin air, leaving the brothers together in the car with an empty back seat.

Tilton, New Hampshire

It only took Castiel two nanoseconds to locate Jamie Ward as she was not hidden from angels nor warded against anything. He found her sitting in a scenic city park that was bustling with parents and small children. Jamie wore a long sleeved black hoodie with the hood pulled up to obscure her features. Long blonde hair poured out on either side of her face, and she sat on a park bench removed from everyone else. She sat leaned over her knees, concentration making her features sharp. She was watching a nearby birthday party taking place at an adjacent picnic table and she was watching so closely that she didn't even notice when Castiel appeared beside her just a few feet away. Cas followed her gaze and with a quizzical expression on his face, he looked over the scene for what she was looking at so intently. He saw a cake that said 'Happy 1st Birthday Marley!' on the the center of the picnic table. There were balloons tied to everything and small screaming children running around the immediate area like hyper animals—tired parents loitered the area and commiserated with each other with mere looks. A fussy one-year-old wore a 'birthday girl' outfit and continually strained forward in her mother's lap trying to get to the untouched cake on the picnic table.

But none of that was what Jamie was watching. Instead, Jamie was very focused on one particular family that was attending the party, a family of three—a small, meek, kind looking man with round glasses and his smiling, petite wife who held a tiny baby—the baby was perhaps a month old or so and wrapped snuggly in pink blankets. In a conversation with an older lady, the couple was practically beaming and nodding together graciously as this woman fawned over their infant. After attempting to discern why Jamie was watching that family unit so closely, Cas could fathom no reason why and decided to announce his presence by simply asking. "Why are you watching that family?"

His deep voice made her jump and Jamie fell sideways, nearly tumbling off the bench as she stared at him with wide, pale eyes. "Jesus Christ!" she hissed, clutching a hand to her heart as she managed to stay put on the bench and not fall down.

"No… I'm Castiel," he corrected, wondering if she did not remember him. "We've met before."

Flustered and disconcerted, Jamie was visibly agitated and stood up like it was a confrontation. "I know who you are. What are you doing here?!" The second she asked that defensive question, her face fell and she clearly realized why he was there. "Dean sent you," she said softly. She looked almost guilty about it, emotional pain flashing across her strong features. Her anger left in place of uncertainty.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "He's… worried."

For a second, Jamie looked guilty. "How sweet," she muttered, then clenched her jaw and gave Castiel a reason for what she was doing at the park: "I'm working a case." She sat down again and crossed her arms over her upper body as she began to work very hard at not watching the family she'd been watching.

Narrowing his eyes for a couple of silent beats, the angel took in her expression, the way her fingers nervously twitched around without stopping, the slight flare of her nostrils. And he did not believe her.

"I sense deception," he said, studying her closely. Her outward signs of nervousness, however small and disguised, did not escape him. "You're not telling the truth," he pressed. She glared at him, daring him to keep accusing her of lying. And then Cas looked where she did not want him to: at the family she'd been watching. He eyed the baby that was being so gently cradled by the mother and he frowned deeply, trying to understand why Jamie would be obsessively watching that child—and then suddenly, it dawned over him so incredulously that he felt his face go soft and his eyebrows raise up. He looked back at Jamie, whose face was being held gaunt in dread. And he knew it was true before he even asked.

"You didn't miscarry Dean's child, did you?" he asked quietly, and he was utterly stunned at this revelation. Jamie looked stricken and caught, immediately vulnerable—but he could also see how she was planning to deny it. So he gave her a gentle look and encouraged her not to. "Jamie, I am an angel," he reminded gently.

She said nothing for a long moment, but her eyes grew faintly wet. And then she admitted everything with slouched shoulders and a voice that had lost all confidence and all guard. "Fine. No. I didn't miscarry. I—I had the baby, okay? Almost two and a half months ago." Jamie's shining eyes flickered downward and pain she tried to hide flitted across her face. "S-she was a little early." At Cas's expression of concern and misunderstanding, Jamie explained in a voice that attempted to sound sure. "I thought Dean was dead, Castiel. And I knew my time was running down. What was I supposed to do? I… I just wanted her to have a good, normal life." She looked back at the happy couple who was holding her baby and her voice wavered and weakened. "So I went to an agency. Found a couple who couldn't get pregnant. They wanted to adopt a baby and had been on a waiting list for years…" She watched the family with a longing Cas knew and recognized. She looked like she felt like an outsider, a reject, like she could never belong in the scenario happening just fifty feet away but she wanted to so badly. "They're so boring," she whispered in a forlorn tone. Like she had never seen anything more desirable or unattainable in her entire life. "So normal. So nice." Swallowing and taking a second to steady herself, Jamie clenched her jaw against the obvious urge to admit defeat. "And she's theirs now." She sounded blank inside.

Castiel hesitated and then gingerly sat down beside Jamie, taking a moment to let her collect herself. She said this child belonged to those people now… "And yet here you are," he murmured softly, commenting without words on how he recognized that she hadn't let go in the least.

Jamie said nothing for a long moment. "It just—it feels wrong not to be near her," she whispered, voice cracking as she looked down and fought hard not to lose it. "I never even got to hold her."

Castiel looked at her sidelong, hurting on her behalf with this revelation. He saw a defeated woman who had lost everything and was in the pits of despair. He saw utter vulnerability and self-loathing and pain so pervasive it was a wonder she could carry herself at all anymore. "Why didn't you tell Dean the truth?" he asked gently after a moment. Surely if the two of them could share this burden somehow.

Another wave of guilt rolled over her face and she obviously was fighting herself on how she felt about her answer. "Because this would kill him like it's killing me," she finally said, then looked at her daughter in a way only a mother can. The love and the pain warred on her face and neither won. "That little girl needs to have a safe life. A good life. And with me and Dean…?" A rueful, self-loathing expression passed over Jamie's face. "She'd never have a single fucking chance. I can't risk him pulling something or trying to take her back from them or something. She's safe here. Safer if he never even knows she exists. It's the hardest thing in the world but—I really think this is where she belongs." Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she looked down, clearly ashamed of herself. Perhaps she thought she was abandoning this child.

"Jamie…" Cas began, his voice thick with apprehensiveness and sympathy.

She looked at him directly, her eyes abruptly severe and desperate. "You cannot tell Dean about this," she said, cutting him off. "Please, Castiel. I know we're not friends and we don't know each other… but I'm not too proud to beg about this. All I want is for my daughter to be safe. To have something stable. To get a real chance at life, to have a clean slate…" she faltered in pain. "The things Dean and I never had." A soft, bitter smile crossed her lips as she allowed herself a moment to indulge in the what ifs. "Dean would be the best dad," she said softly. "I know that. He would be incredible." The smile fell away. "But he's too far into this life. He can't get out. And I refuse for her to be in this even a little bit. And me, I'm… I'm dead. Even if I weren't… even if my time wasn't about to be up, I'm a curse. I'd only destroy that kid's life." She really believed that, Cas realized. And she looked at the couple holding her daughter and looked both pained and grateful. "Bill and Carol are good people. She's in the right place. I believe that." She looked down and absently worked her fingers together. Tears ran down her cheeks silently. "I think I can die a little easier knowing that."

Castiel was silent for a long moment. He recognized how she was trying to share how she felt with him and also thinking he couldn't relate or understand her dilemma. But, he could in a way. He could very much so, in fact. "I was going to be a father once," he murmured, watching a dark haired little girl with pigtails playing nearby.

Genuine surprise showed and Jamie's pale eyes studied him closely. "With Alex?" she guessed cautiously after a couple beats.

"Yes," he said, remembering finding out and how devastating it had been to know they had lost the little life that their love had created. "But… something happened." He didn't have to go into further detail—his tone said it all, and Jamie nodded somberly, understanding. "I can only imagine the responsibility and love you feel toward your child," Castiel continued hesitantly. "But… I don't want to lie to Dean." He had spent enough time deceiving his friend in the past. And if Dean ever found out about this and knew Cas had kept it from him… it would be unforgivable.

"I don't wanna lie to him either, but my priority is her," Jamie said, and her tone indicated that there was no other option. "She's what matters the most. And I hate to say it but Dean's a loose cannon. I love the guy, I do, but—" she said that so assertively it was like she hadn't even heard herself speak and her face went slack when she realized she'd said 'love.' Attempting to save face, Jamie quickly tried to move on but she was obviously uncomfortable. "I—I, I… don't know what he'd do if he found out about her. I—I can't jeopardize her safety and I won't." She paused and softened, became concerned about something. "That and I don't want him to feel this pain." She said that and then smiled through the devastation. A strange, sad expression. "I just want him go on with his life and not have to feel the guilt and shame and pain. He's had enough happen to him, hasn't he?" So she was trying to protect Dean from emotional pain. Castiel understood that instinct, and it made deciding what to do even harder. She obviously cared about Dean even if she tried to set herself apart as an untouchable island.

The angel let his eyes drift to the family and the child. He couldn't see very well for all the swaddling, but he could see fair blonde hair and a button nose. "What is her name?" he questioned after a heavy moment's pause.

Immediately, Jamie was visibly affected and it took her a long moment to reply. "They named her Rose," she finally said softly. "My middle name." She tried to laugh to cover up her quickly unraveling emotions. "They wanted to 'pay tribute' to me," she said, and her voice broke and tears fell. "So many people just want the birth mother out of the picture forever and don't even want her to exist. T-they're so fucking nice." Almost angrily, Jamie swiped at her cheeks.

What a tragedy it was. Castiel did understand her feelings on this matter and the complications that were present. "I'm very sorry, Jamie Ward," he said heavily. He did not envy her sad situation in the least.

Watching her daughter with worried eyes, Jamie hesitated. "Can you… can you check on her, Castiel? Time to time?" She looked at him, her eyes silently begging. "Just… make sure she's okay here and there?"

Castiel was deeply reluctant. "I think Dean should be the one who—"

"No," she said immediately and sharply. "I told you no. I am not adding another impossible responsibility to that man's life. It would be too much for him." She swallowed hard, losing the harder edge for a moment. "And if he knew about her, Dean might do to her what his dad did to him."

Although a little startled by that presumption, Cas couldn't outright disparage the idea. "Maybe he wouldn't," he ventured, hopeful that Dean would be able to do what John Winchester hadn't: Quit the life, put his children first, break the cycle of loss and pain and emotional neglect.

But Jamie shook her head, mind made up even though it obviously agonized her. "Can't risk it. Dean doesn't ever find out about her, period. She stays here away from hunting, away from monsters, nightmares, curses; away from her real parents. The only thing I've ever done for the people I love is get them killed or hurt. I won't allow her to be on that list. And I'll be gone soon anyway. She never even has to know the heartache she came from."

Torn, Cas couldn't help but protest again. "Dean is a father, he should know."

"Castiel," Jamie implored, her voice breaking. "You don't think I feel the same way? I almost told him a million times. I want him to know, I do. More than anything. Which is what makes this so hard, and so painful. I know how fucked up this is to never tell him." She choked on her own voice. "But he can't know, ever." Jamie looked over towards Rose, then back at Cas. "For her. Please. Promise me."

Grim, Cas watched Rose being rocked lovingly by her adoptive mother and saw how Jamie watched in heartbroken longing. And with a deep, long inhale, he nodded once. "I won't tell him," he agreed heavily.

Miserable relief flooded Jamie's face and she looked like she might weep. "Thank you," she whispered.

They were quiet a moment longer. "Do you plan to stay near Rose until the end?" Cas finally asked. It was morbid, he supposed.

"Yeah," she confirmed quietly. "I'm… just basically waiting, now." She swallowed hard and hesitated, eyeing Cas sidelong. Her voice softened. "Is—is Dean okay?"

He heard many things in her voice about him. Doubts, fears, insecurities, care, worry. Cas shook his head, his eyes going into the distance unseeingly. "Not really." He looked down, sick to his stomach. "I suppose you don't know yet. Alex is dead."

Jamie's face lost color and registered immediate dismayed shock. "What?!"

"Yes," Castiel said and stood up, solemn and grim. "It seems the only guarantee in this life is death," he reflected gravely, feeling a strange disconnect between his feelings and the words he spoke. His regretful gaze went to the witch. "I'm sorry, Jamie Ward. If I could, I would help you. But a soul deal must be paid."

She was poised even in her pain and shock. "I know," she said. She stood, too, watching Cas in anxious, dread-filled grief. "H-how did she die? What happened?"

Pain exploded anew in Cas's heart as he thought of the one he loved dying in his arms. "Needlessly," he said gruffly, avoiding looking into Jamie's eyes. He would give anything to have Alex back. Anything to save her. But nothing could do that. He'd had his chance and it was gone. Becoming internally wrecked, Castiel hid behind a mask and a flat tone. "Now if you'll excuse me. I need to go." He paused. "But I know Dean would feel great relief if you would call him."

To his surprise, Jamie nodded her agreement. "I will," she promised, perhaps spurred to make communication by the knowledge that Dean was suffering. "I should have." Sorrowful, she looked down as she processed everything she'd just been told.

He understood to a degree. He had hidden things before and in the end it had given him nothing but regret. So he offered a parting piece of wisdom that he had learned the hardest way in the world. "If you want my advice… the truth is always the better option. But I respect that this is your decision and your child," he said. "And I will not tell him. I leave that up to you." It sounded so final, the words he spoke next: "Goodbye, Jamie Ward."

And when she opened her mouth to reply to him, he had already disappeared.

When Cas reappeared in the Impala, Sam and Dean started slightly. When the angel said nothing, Dean looked increasingly nervous. "Well?" he prompted, glancing back repeatedly using the rear view mirror. Obviously, he feared the worst.

Avoiding his friend's gaze, Cas stared out the window and made his face tough and inscrutable. "She's alive, Dean."

The hunter in the driver's seat let out a soft breath as relief made his shoulders relax just a little. "Good. Yeah," he said, obviously having feared the worst. "So… what was she doing? Where was she?" he peered into the rear view mirror and then abruptly frowned and shook his head and refocused on the road. "No, you know what? None of my business," he muttered gruffly. That was a surprising thing for Dean to say. He was quiet for a long couple seconds and then he couldn't help himself from asking more. "She—she look okay at least?" he asked, voice laced with worry.

"No," Cas answered honestly, hoping his friend wouldn't ask him much more. "Sad."

The oldest Winchester looked personally hurt by that word and then confused. "Why won't that girl call me?" he asked no one in particular. Beside him, his brother looked sorry for him. In the back seat, Cas was eaten up with guilt.

And in the front seat, Dean didn't know that a thousand miles away there was a baby girl who had his eyes.