Song Remains the Same

Chapter 124 / Like a Rolling Stone

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Live in the question."
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Deep inside of the bunker, utterly stifling silence was punctuated by a heart rate monitor. The machine was old but still worked, doing its job of representing every heartbeat with a soulless, jarring beep.

Dean hadn't left his dad's side. It was now sometime in the morning and the oldest Winchester still couldn't believe everything that had happened last night. But especially this.

Here was the man he had idolized and adored. The man he had followed blindly after his entire life. The man who had raised him and conditioned him and some might argue abused him. The man whose footsteps Dean was echoing almost blow for blow.

Until last night, John Winchester had been dead and left behind—a closed book, a shadow that loomed in the edge of the past. And now... he was suddenly flesh and blood and here again. Dean's stomach churned as he wondered continuously if his father would wake up or not and what that meant if he did. What impact that would have. It's not that Dean didn't want his dad back, it was just… this threw a huge wrench into everything. This changed everything. And Dean had no clue if Dad was even the same guy anymore. Hell might have turned him into a monster for all they knew. He might be close to being demonized. He might be stripped of all hope and joy and light. He might be a shell of who he'd been... an empty, vacated house that would never be lived in again.

John looked grayer and more haggard than he had before, maybe a touch more wild and grizzled, definitely a little thinner. But other than that… he looked the same.

When John had died, Dean had been forced to really step up and take ownership of the Winchester family in a way he'd never had to before. He'd been compelled to carry Dad's work on and keep the family unit together. It had given him more mission and responsibility. Dean had become more of a man because of Dad's death. And now with Dad alive again, Dean automatically felt younger again… less certain. Less capable. And let's face it: lately, especially since Jamie's death, Dean was feeling like he was powerless and trapped. Like nothing he did would really amount to much in the end. Like fate was fate, death was guaranteed, and nothing he did would really change anything for the better.

It was hard for Dean to know how to process this. Twenty-four hours ago, he had been worrying about the trials, Kevin, this Metatron guy, Sammy, Alex being 'missing'… and then out of the blue Cas had shown up looking like death and then quickly announced Alex had sold her soul and was not missing... she was in Hell. That had basically shattered any ground remaining under Dean's feet and plunged him to utter rock bottom. He'd barely had time to take in what Cas had said before Alex had been pulled out of the ground. The entire thing left him traumatized.

Dean really didn't even want to believe that it had even happened. Hell was the worst possible imaginable torture he could ever conceive of and he didn't want his sister to have been there—ever—at all—even for a second. And she'd been there for what he could only sum up as being around ten years. God knows what had happened to her during that amount of time or how many demons had tortured her in ways he couldn't even bring himself to think about. It made him feel so horrified that he wanted to vomit. How could she have done that to herself? Signed herself up for that? And told no one about it? The entire scenario sickened him as much as it outraged him. Didn't she get that her life was valuable to the extreme? That she couldn't just throw it around and make deals to bring back people who, yes, he loved, but no, didn't have to have back? If it had been Sam's life or Cas's life on the line or something, Dean might have understood better. But Bobby? Now, make no mistake. Dean loved Bobby. A lot. And he knew Alex did too. But he didn't understand why Alex would suddenly up and trade her life for his like she had. If he had to pick, Dean would have never traded his sister for his uncle. That was just the bare, ugly truth of it. His sister and brother were the two most important people in the world to him. The end. He would always choose them over anyone else. He would do just about anything to protect them—and maybe that was why Dean felt so angry and helpless and even feeling betrayed at his sister's actions. If he had known her plans, Dean would have never let Alex do that deal. He would have tied her up and locked her in the basement until she came to her senses or he would have done the deal in her place if she was that set on having Bobby back.

She was the one who was never supposed to know the kind of pain and horror he and Sam had experienced in Hell. She was supposed to be protected from that. She was supposed to live her life and get the best chance at normal and she was supposed to suffer less than them because in her short life she had suffered enough. And yet for whatever reason she'd gone and played hero again. It was almost like she had a freaking death wish, Dean reflected. Taking Lucifer for Sam, killing herself just to talk to Death. It was becoming a running theme almost. Dean had accused Alex of being self-centered so many times in the past but it was starting to feel like maybe she didn't care enough about her own life or something.

But dammit, he cared. And now he was left with the bare facts. The two girls he loved most in the world had ended up in Hell. His sister and the woman he loved. Alex got out, thank god—well, thank Cas. But why was Jamie still there…? Dean didn't get it and didn't think he ever would. His emotions were reeling and he felt isolated and alone because he couldn't deal with his own thoughts, doubts, questions, and feelings all on overdrive. He was exhausted in every way possible and running out of steam. Nothing felt solid anymore… him and Sam were on rocky ground because the Amelia thing still weighed on them both so much. Dad was back, maybe. And Alex and Cas were… shattering light bulbs in the dead of night. Which kind of felt insulting because damn, there was intense shit happening. And the two of them were screwing around. Literally. And all the while, Jamie was screaming and burning alive in the depths of Hell while Dean did nothing to change that. He bowed his head and put a hand on his face, emotions threatening to break him. He had tried, god he'd tried to find a way to get her out. All Dean knew now was that he never wanted to love anyone else ever again.

Just then, a soft sound alerted him to a new presence. Dean looked up to see his sister hovering in the doorway cautiously, watching with worried eyes. The sight of her startled Dean a little bit even if he knew to expect her sooner or later. Wearing a typical outfit (old band shirt, a loose flannel over it, some jeans with work boots), she was messy-haired, bare faced, and void of any jewelry except the penny necklace. She looked just like herself. Except… something was somehow different about her. What exactly, he couldn't say. But he did immediately notice a smattering of red hickeys on her neck and around her collarbone too. Immediately, Dean shriveled a little. Jesus tapdancing Christ. He wondered if this shit had been as awkward for her as it was for him now with the roles reversed. She'd usually given him these weird looks whenever he got back from his one night stands. Life seemed to have come full circle.

Alex was guarded and tentative, and Dean couldn't say he blamed her. Last night had been so insane that he hadn't entirely known how to react except to get freaked out, shut down, and ask very baseline questions before hurrying off to take care of Dad. They hadn't really had a chance to actually talk and Dean didn't really feel ready, either. But he didn't seem to have a choice. He forced a little smile. "Well, look who it is," he said, trying to sound pleasant. Trying to keep the peace. Trying to forget his own turbulent state and the slight bitterness he felt towards her. He could be civil, at least. He knew it was shitty to be mad at her, so he tried not to let on. "How you feelin', little sister?"

Alex thought about it for a minute and Dean looked at her closely, trying to see hidden signs of duress or trauma. "I'll muddle through," she said. Like she was kidding around.

Dean nodded tentatively, not convinced, only aware: she didn't want to talk about it. So he looked away, staring at Dad unseeingly. He wondered if she'd started to have the nightmares yet. And if she'd even tell him if she did.

Alex crossed her arms and looked at John for a minute with a tensing expression. "How's Dad?"

With a faint shake of the head, Dean flattened his mouth. "Don't know. But, if he's the stubborn bastard I remember him being, he'll pull through." Dean rubbed his palms together over and over, a nervous tic. A way of alleviating some jitters and tension. He couldn't just leave it alone: "So from what I can figure you were down there for like ten years," he finally said, then looked at her with a terse, pained expression. "That is a long damn time, Al."

She didn't deny it. But she did sidestep. And she didn't look him in the eye when she spoke. "Dad was there for thousands of years. That is a long damn time."

So she really didn't wanna talk about it. No lie, that kind of hurt. Dean's gaze drifted to Dad's familiar profile. So many unanswered questions and so much wayward guilt. His voice caught on his own throat. "Is… is he still him?" he whispered.

Alex's expression showed almost sympathy. Her reply was elusive, mournful, distant. Her eyes were on Dad. "Does anyone leave Hell the same as they went in?"

Dean looked at his sister grimly. "You tell me."

Her eyes dodged away and slight discomfort showed as she gave a faint shrug. "I dunno. Probably not." Their eyes met and Dean felt the distance between them so keenly. He wanted to know and he also didn't. What she'd been through. What she'd endured. If she really was okay. But then he realized from the way she was looking at him… she was the one who was worried. About him. Her eyes swept around his body briefly, concern pinching her features slightly into a frown. "Have you lost weight, Dean?" she asked slowly, seeming to find it kind of startling when she realized that he definitely had.

The astute observation felt invasive—yes, he'd dropped about ten or more pounds since Jamie died. Dean deflected the question with dry humor. "The Jenny Craig diet worked for me, what can I say?" He shifted in his chair, crossed his arms, then eyed her hickey-ed neck again and felt his expression work with slight distaste. "Where's Cas?" Had he left as he always did? Or was he still down for the count?

Alex looked distinctly caught-out. "Uh." Tellingly, her eyes slid sidelong toward the doorway. "Right outside the room."

Dean's face fell flatly. That felt sort of sneaky. He drew in a deep, steadying breath and then raised his gruff voice a little to make himself heard clearly. "Cas? You wanna get in here?"

There was a pause, a shuffle, then the angel appeared in the doorway and exchanged a glance with Alex before he acknowledged Dean. "Good morning Dean." He looked normal again, a far cry from the beat-up unconscious guy he'd been when Dean last saw him.

A little sour for all kinds of reasons, Dean was less than pleasant as Castiel came into the room and stood near Alex. "Yeah uh huh," he muttered. Last night's events with the alarm going off and light bulbs shattering wasn't far from Dean's mind. Gruff to try and hide his awkwardness, Dean pinched his features and glared sullenly while avoiding eye contact. "You're lucky I found a box of spare light bulbs that didn't get…" he was regretting this entire sentence at this point, "exploded," he finished delicately. Then he set his mouth flat, trying to complain. "Otherwise this whole damn place would be candlelit." He pulled a cynical, dead smile as he thought about how fun it was going to be to replace the light bulbs in this whole place (he'd only done a few necessary ones before barking at Sam to take over). "Not that I don't love a nice romantic atmosphere, but really."

Alex got a shade more uncomfortable at the rude commentary, but she looked more annoyed than anything else. Cas barely seemed to hear what Dean had said and peered at the hunter closely with one of those very concerned, emotional expressions. "How are you, Dean?"

Dean noticed, at that precise moment, that Castiel was wearing a shining silver wedding band on his left hand. Taken aback—when had he started wearing that?—Dean looked between both of them in semi-shock. Their expressions were mutually sad and worried and it made Dean feel more and more irritated. He suddenly felt like an outsider. Like Alex and Cas were some kind of closely bonded team and he was just some jackass they felt pity for. "Why are you two looking at me like you're at a funeral?" he demanded defensively. "Huh? I don't need you feeling sorry for me."

Alex shook her head and spoke in a soft, caring voice that made Dean want to throw something. "Dean, we're not—"

Something in him broke. Dean stood up so fast his chair fell over loudly. "Just shut up, shut up—!" he snapped, startling himself along with Alex and Cas. While Alex looked stung and appalled, Cas looked immediately, severely disapproving. But Dean was recklessly letting his suppressed, confused, flayed feelings fly at his sister because he couldn't handle it anymore. "I have never, ever been as pissed at you as I am right now and I have been pissed at you before as we all know!" he thundered.

Despite her clear shock, Alex also looked absolutely mystified.

"You sold your damn soul!" Dean raged. "Why am I the only one freaking out about that?!" He looked at Cas for some support, not really sure why he was the only one with some goddamn brains around this place—the angel just looked back at Dean with an expression that implied that Dean was making a fool of himself.

Alex had become cold and resentful. "I had to do that deal, Dean."

Give me a freaking break! Dean was offended. "No, you didn't!" he insisted, face twisting in distress. He threw in the next comment for good measure, because it was true and because she shouldn't just be standing there staring at him like he was stupid. "And I'm not the only one who's mad; Bobby's not happy about it either!" He'd given Bobby the head's up over the phone. The older hunter was shocked about his role in the entire thing.

Of all things, Alex let loose a disgusted little huff of a laugh as she got a big attitude real fast. "Well I definitely did it to make you two happy so damn, sucks to be me." She crossed her arms and basically glared. "How many times are we gonna have this same conversation, Dean? You don't get to decide what I do with my life. Not now. Not ever!" Her face abruptly twisted with confused hurt. "And I don't need your stamp of approval but Jesus Christ, is it too much to ask for for you to be like… happy to see me? Or worried about me a little?" Knife in the heart. Dean guiltily tightened his jaw as his quickly saddening sister tried to make sense of his erratic behavior. She sighed out loud and hard, frustrated before she threw her arms out at her loss. "Do I do anything except make you mad anymore? Can't you just be glad I'm here?" She jabbed a hand out toward their father. "I was in fucking Hell twenty four hours ago, and look—Dad is in this fucking room because of the deal I made! So maybe you should stop being such a little bitch, god." Her off-the-cuff accusations made them both fall silent for a tense second and Dean knew she was right… but… it didn't change how upset he was. He stared anywhere but at his sister, who was now looking at him with unbearably sad eyes.

"You and me used to be best friends," she finally said. And god, his heart ached. They had. Closer than close. Each other's world, especially in the years without Sam and Dad. And in current time, they were barely able to maintain a relationship at all. "And now you're mad at me for shit you don't even know what you're talking about…? You just assume you know everything and crucify me for what I did without even having all the facts? And then you ignore how I was in Hell… being tortured day in and day out for ten years, alone and scared and missing you… in favor of bitching at me over your own hurt feelings or something?" When she put it like that, he saw how awful he really was and shut his eyes, turning his head away a little, wishing he didn't even have a mouth on days like this. He said nothing else, knowing he'd just fuck things up more no matter what he said. He heard Alex draw a deep breath and let it out in a distinctly conflicted way. Then she spoke again softly in a strained, hurt voice. This was her specialty: willingness to overlook bullshit. "Can't we just… get back to normal? Please. That's all I want."

Dean looked at her with a face he was barely in control of anymore. Everything was suffocating him. "'Normal,'" he repeated bitterly, hating that word and hating his life and hating how he couldn't stop pushing away the people he loved. "Do you see normal anywhere you look around this place?" He immediately couldn't stand being in that room anymore and as such, he stormed out, feeling himself spiraling more and more out of control internally with every step he took.

Alex and Cas were left in a sudden wash of silence. While Alex stared after her brother in wounded confusion with eyes that portrayed nothing but deep hurt, Cas sighed softly then touched the back of her arm gently as he stood more in front of her, drawing her attention. "I'll speak with him later," he said, surprising her with the assertive, reassuring statement. His hand remained on her arm, holding tenderly. "I would have said something to him now but… when he gets like that, it's best to just let him cool off." Alex gaped slightly. She kept forgetting that her brother and her angel had spent like a year together in Purgatory as brothers in arms. That Cas and Dean had a different relationship than what she'd known before. That while she'd been on her own and growing, Cas had sort of been doing the same. "I'm sorry, Alex," Castiel said quietly, taking her silence as sadness. Which, honestly, it was. "You don't deserve that kind of treatment. And Dean does love you very much."

Alex knew that but was sick and tired of the third degree. Especially since Dean was assuming everything without even asking for an explanation. He didn't know half of the truth and was gonna feel like such a fucking moron when she told him. "Well he has a fucked way of showing it," she muttered.

Cas's eyebrows rose briefly as a small, wry smile spread over his lips briefly. A very human expression. "For what it's worth, I agree." He tilted his head to the side just slightly, narrowing his eyes in his trademark stern curiosity. "Why didn't you tell him about Sam?"

"Oh, trust me," Alex said with a soft, cynical chuckle. "I will." And she guessed Dean would sing a very different tune when she set the record straight. "But I have to tell Sam first and… I don't know how he'll feel about it or how he'll take it." She fell into a brief silence and stressed about that. Sam was very guilt-inclined. Wanting to protect him from emotional turmoil was a strong instinct. That, and she was a little afraid he'd be mad at her like Dean was. Having even more family members pissed at her didn't sound fun. "Anyway, it's not like Dean's gonna just magically be a nice person when he has all the facts," she mused in a tired mutter. She remembered a time when Dean had been so much more carefree and light. He was like a dark cloud now.

Cas studied her for a moment, his expression screwed up thoughtfully and somberly. "I think he's upset at how close he came to losing you," he offered momentarily and with slight uncertainty. "I know that I felt that way."

Alex felt incredibly worried about her brother, like, almost irrationally worried. As if her instincts knew something she didn't. "Yeah but did you yell at me and make me feel like a terrible person?" she asked, distracted by thoughts of Dean and how far away he felt. How out of reach.

Cas shifted a little closer to her and comforted her with a hand to the side of her face, thumb stroking against her cheek. "This will all be well somehow, Alex," he murmured softly in that deep, unmistakable voice of his. "I promise you." She couldn't believe a lot in this world... but she could believe him.

Mutually, they went in for a hug. His arms felt strong and secure. She could feel his heartbeat when they were this close… the rise and fall of his chest. And there was suddenly a flutter of maddening, inexplicable happiness in her chest, a burst of insanely thrilling joy so intense she could barely house it. For once, she somehow wasn't terrified to lose it all. The past should have perhaps influenced her to be a petrified mess just waiting for everything to fail and fall apart like it always did. But not this time. Not even with the ghosts of Hell chasing after. She felt like herself for the first time in forever—even down to the family dysfunction. If she could survive the depths of the underworld, if she could come back from that challenged but not broken… what couldn't she face?

Alex pulled back a little to look Cas in the eye. Soft expression on his handsome face, he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Her chest pulled inside with strong feelings that affixed her to him in every sense eternally. Without saying a word, she sensed his understanding—his mutual feelings of amazement and certainty were conveyed on his features. For a lingering moment, they shared that quiet, affectionate gaze. And then Alex hugged herself to him again loosely, nestling her head under his chin. She let out a long, soft breath. Her eyes drifted shut when he cradled the back of her head in a hand. Everything was going to be okay. After a minute or so of this quiet, sweet embrace, Cas gave her forehead a soft kiss and then looked toward the nearby bed. "Your father looks surprisingly good," he observed.

Alex followed his gaze, her relaxed expression tightening marginally. She glanced at Cas, trying to read his expression. "How is he? Can you tell?"

Cas hesitated then let go of her and went to John's side, placing a hand against the man's forehead, frowning hard and shutting his eyes for a moment. Alex was struck by the surreal nature of this moment—not only because on Cas's hand was what used to be Dad's wedding band, but because her father and her husband were in the same room together. It was truly a sight she had never predicted. She knew Cas had some reservations about her dad—in that he didn't really like him on principle. Likewise, Dad had been very skeptical and reserved of Alex's stories of Cas in Hell—very cautious to get on board with the entire thing. She had to wonder: what if Dad woke up and these two hated each other?

"Physically, he's fine," Cas reported evenly, drawing away from John and turning to look at Alex grimly. "But mentally… only time will tell." Sensitive to her worry, Cas refrained from injecting his personal opinion or misgivings about John.

Alex rounded the other side of the bed and sank into the chair there, taking Dad's hand in her own and studying his face for a long moment. For the millionth time she noticed how her hair color was his, how they had the same jawline and same dark, prominent eyebrows. She was his spitting image and had always known it. Sometimes, she'd thought maybe that was why he had disliked her... because she reminded him too much of himself.

Leaning closer to her dad as memories of their time in Hell flitted through her mind, Alex talked to him, even if he didn't hear. "All right, Dad." Her throat knotted and she prayed internally for him to be okay. "Wake up. 'No sleeping in,' remember?" He had been militaristic about their sleep schedules. He said people who slept too much were lazy and he'd be damned if his kids were lazy. Bad memories and good alike swept her mind—a lifetime of the road, hunting, constant change, constant uncertainty. And suddenly, a monsoon of sadness crashed over Alex and she began to weep profusely out of nowhere as grief about the broken past and confusion about this current situation blindsided her. Across the bed, Cas looked startled at the unexpected breakdown and Alex was equally surprised at it. While her vision flooded with tears and a hand came up to hide her bowing face, she shook her head no, wondering how she could be so happy one second and then sobbing the next. But it didn't seem to matter. Her heart and mind were all over the place; a feeling of mourning was taking over, and everything inside felt so heavy. Too heavy to carry. "I—I don't even know how I feel right now," she managed to get out through her heavy downpour of emotion.

Beside her, she felt Cas kneeling down and touching her carefully. "I… I know this must be very overwhelming for you," he said after a short silence, voice uncertain and tender all at once. Yes. It was. She fought to stop sobbing by breathing deeply and shakily. One of Cas's hands was on her back, the other on a knee, and he stayed with her. She guessed she should have expected some kind of fallout from Hell, but this didn't really feel connected to Hell. "I wish I knew how to make everything better," Cas said softly, obviously very upset that he didn't know magical words to take away her pain.

Alex shook her head and then slid out of the chair and into him awkwardly, needing his arms around her. She wondered if this were in part misplaced sadness about Dean. All her hurts welled up impossibly, and he was at the center of them.

Cas sat down the rest of the way onto the floor, cradling her and holding her curled-up form closely as she tried to get control of herself. In a worried voice, he whispered that he loved her very much and pulled her even closer. Her tears began to taper away and she shut her eyes, holding onto him with a hand clenched into his trench coat.

In the command center of the bunker, Sam had a number of files and papers spread out in front of him. After spending the night sleepless and worried about his family, Sam had made some coffee around four in the morning and started to trek through research for anything he about what 'curing a demon' might entail. It was a good way to distract himself and combat his restless emotions. So far, he was coming up with absolutely nothing.

Cure a demon.

What did that even mean?

Sam thought back to their encounter with Metatron early yesterday. Being close to the scribe of God had made Sam feel absolutely ill—to the point of barely being able to stand. Apparently it was because of the trials. After Metatron (who apparently had kept himself out of the loop of the entire world on purpose since he ran away from Heaven eons ago) learned what was happening with the trials and who the Winchesters were, he seemed to be on board for closing Hell and he offered his help. The guy was weird. Squirrely and dweeby, just odd.

But… he'd rescued a thought-dead Kevin from Crowley and patched the kid up. Plus he'd known more about the trials than anyone else had thus far. But Sam wasn't sure if this guy was trustworthy. For now, he just needed to figure out what curing a demon meant. And then how to do it. No pressure, right?

He was so distracted by the state of his family, though. Dad alive and in what appeared to be a coma. Alex back but now an alum of Hell. Dean behaving even more bizarrely than ever. As if on cue, shuffling footsteps sounded and Sam looked up from another demonic possession case file to see Dean descending the couple of stairs from the library.

"Morning," Dean greeted neutrally. Sam could immediately sense something was wrong, but really... something was always wrong with Dean these days. "Already at it, huh?" he asked, glancing at all the paper in front of Sam.

Giving a tired sigh, Sam nodded and let the current file smack down onto the table. "Yup." His eyes were about to cross from all this reading. "These demonic possession files aren't gonna read themselves."

Dean chuckled forcibly. "They might. I mean, we've seen some weird stuff, man."

True. Sam's mouth curved into a tight smile he had to almost fake. He was anxious to hear some good news. "How's Dad?"

Dean didn't look too enthusiastic. "The same." He stood on the other side of the table with his arms crossed.

Nodding tensely, distracted by fears and worries, Sam studied his brother a minute. "What about you?"

Immediately, Dean's face distorted. "Psh," he scoffed, dodging the question and brushing it off without giving answer. "How're you feeling?" He gave Sam one of those lecturing, parental looks that made Sam feel a lot younger than thirty-one.

He mulled the question over and answered truthfully. "Honestly, um... my, uh, my whole body hurts. I feel nauseous and like I'm starving at the same time, and everything smells like rotting meat."

Dean almost chuckled. "I've had that hangover. Jaeger, man. Maybe you should, uh, take a break, get some air."

Sam gave a brisk shake of his head. "The only thing that's gonna make me feel better is finishing this," he said, setting his attention back on the files in front of himself. There were so many and just looking at them exhausted him.

Dean didn't insist he take a break. Just nodded. "All right. Well, I'll go get you some grub, keep your strength up." He headed toward the kitchen and for a few minutes, Sam was left to give himself new headaches with endless files. And then he heard two pairs of footsteps and looked up to see Cas and Alex entering the command center. The sight of them set a genuine smile on Sam's face. Cas looked okay—thank god—and Alex was clean, dressed like herself, and already halfway to him.

"Morning," Sam greeted even as his sister came over and hugged him tight around the neck from behind as he sat. "Hey," he chuckled, a little surprised at the affection.

"Hey yourself," she said, mussing his hair when she let go. She sat down beside him and studied him almost suspiciously. "…Did you even sleep last night?" she asked, a chiding note to her tone.

Sam's eyebrows were halfway up his forehead. "Did you?" He pointed vaguely at her neck and what was visible of her chest—he counted at least five hickeys there and he felt himself grinning. "You got… um…"

Alex just smiled and looked away as she flushed slightly, sort of pleased with herself. Cas, sitting down across from them, missed the moment. He was looking around the bunker with a curious, complimentary gaze. "I like this bunker," he announced. "It's very orderly."

Orderly. "Oh, give us a few months," Sam said in semi-sarcasm. "Alex is a total slob. And Dean wants to get a ping-pong table."

"Hey!" Alex protested through a little laugh, even though it was true.

"I've heard of that," Cas said thoughtfully, meditating on ping-pong. "It's a game, right?"

Sam looked over at Alex, a little smile playing on his face. She was looking at Cas fondly. "A game I suck at," she said, then looked at Sam. "Hey, there any food around here? I'm starving. Like, never been this hungry before starving."

Sam slid a package of beef jerky over toward her. It had been buried under files and he'd almost forgotten it was there at all. "Bon appetite," he joked feebly. He was almost so tired he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Across the table, Cas was looking at him very pensively. As Alex dug around for a piece of jerky in the bag, the angel made a very sad observation. "You're getting worse, Sam."

Alex stopped mid chew and looked at Sam, her expression falling. Wishing he looked and felt better, Sam tried to be optimistic. "Well, two trials down, one to go." It was bound to get hairy.

Cas leaned over his elbows, frowning studiously. "And the final test, do you—you know what it is?"

"I have to cure a demon," Sam said, his tone of choice giving away how he was literally clueless about what that meant.

Cas looked even further confused. "Of what?"

Chuckling soft and rueful, Sam pulled a slight face. "That's what we're trying to figure out." He looked at his sister grimly—he saw how her eyes skirted around his haggard features and how sympathy and even fear rested in her features. She touched his arm and rubbed a couple times in silent support and worry. Sam's mouth turned up in a wan, terse smile. Gratitude for her return was fierce in that moment.

"Well, the gang's all here," came a gruff voice. Dean was striding in with a plate and a beer. He studiously avoided looking at his sister. "Soup's on." He set down the plate in front of Sam. "There we go. And, I think this is, uh…" he sampled the already-open beer before setting it back down, "yup, still good." He clapped Sam hard on the back and indicated his brother eat up.

Sam however was a little confused. "…A half-drunk beer, more jerky, and three peanut-butter cups?" he asked skeptically.

Dean shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, we're—we're running a little low." Sam looked at his brother expectantly and Dean sighed like he was thinking fine. "Okay, okay, I'll make a run," he muttered, then grabbed his jacket up from one of the chairs at the table.

Alex stood up and put her best foot forward, trying to make some peace. "Want some company?"

Dean yanked his jacket on and gave her a dark glance. "No, I want you to stay here and quit playing hero."

Stung, Alex was incredulous. "What?" she asked even as Sam was on her heels with an indignant comment of his own.

"Dean, dude—"

Angry like a storm cloud, Dean ignored them. "Save it, you two," he snapped even as he was pulling Cas up roughly by the shoulder of his trench coat. "We gotta talk," he muttered, practically dragging the angel along with him and leaving two stunned twins behind.

Dean pulled Cas with him barely out of earshot and barely out of visibility of Sam and Alex—to a spot just inside the adjacent library. Confused, Cas was frowning deeply. "Dean, what's—"

"You just pulled two of my family members out of Hell no problem, right?" Dean demanded.

Cas hesitated. "Actually… it nearly killed me," he corrected tentatively.

Dean made a slight face. "Bullshit, you look fine now."

The angel's face showed a glimpse into guilt and reluctance. "Only because of drastic measures," he said cryptically.

Dean skipped over that. He was past his pride. "Cas—listen to me. This important. Please, I will never ask you for anything ever again—" he wet his lips, his face a mask of pain. "Sam's closing Hell and my girl's still down there." Cas's face registered instant understanding as Dean's reason for this conversation became crystal clear. The oldest Winchester's truest, deepest emotion was fully on display: Grief. "Y-you gotta help me get her out before it's too late," he pleaded, "I'm desperate, man."

Deeply sorrowful, Cas's 'no' was apparent before he even said a word. "Dean… please believe me. I would if I could. But another trip down there so soon would kill me outright."

Dean didn't give up, but it set an even more despairing edge upon him. "Cas, please. I know the risks, man, I do!" He tried playing up Cas's guilt and gestured at the wedding band Cas was apparently wearing now. "You're my damn brother in law, right? Family risks everything for family!"

Guilt did waver across Cas's face. "I agree, but…" he paused in thought, a million deep emotions showing on his face before he regretfully let his gaze meet Dean's again. "I can't risk it. Dean, I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know a way."

Frantic for some small thread of hope, for anything, Dean floundered. "W-well then just take me down there and step back, leave me to do it on my own or die trying," he stammered, "just—just help me out here, gimme something, please!" He tried to make Cas understand how desperate he was, how he was out of other options. "Meg won't bite, I already tried—I read every damn book in this place there is, I tried spells, I hired a witch, I tried selling my freaking soul…" His voice broke, his eyes flooded. "I've tried everything! I need you on this one, man. Please."

Cas's eyes showed compassion and regret. "If I took you to Hell, I'd be killing you, Dean. I can't."

Anger began to unfurl. "If this was for her, you'd do it," he said, pointing his sister's direction with an accusing finger. "If she asked you, if it was her down there, you'd make it happen no matter what." They both knew he would. And Dean was so fucking frustrated and felt so betrayed that he could barely breathe. But Cas said nothing. Just remained silent and sad. And Dean nodded, swallowing a hard, bitter lump in his throat. "So you're saying I'm shit outta luck. That Hell's gonna close and my girlfriend is just stuck there for all eternity burning alive over and over again."

Cas was guilty and torn and felt bad. "Those weren't my exact words, but—"

"Forget it," Dean snapped, not in the mood for another damn word. "I can see I'm on my own in this." He moved to brush past Cas.

But Cas stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder. "No," Cas said, emphatically, his eyes showing deep emotions. His hand gripped Dean tightly. "You most certainly are not on your own. But if you continue to lash out… you'll drive everyone who loves you away and then you truly will be on your own." He held Dean's gaze meaningfully, and his words struck a chord in the deepest part of the hunter. "Dean, your siblings need you. Your family… needs you."

Dean glanced at them—sickly Sam and just-got-back-from-Hell Alex. And he didn't want to have to pick. He didn't want it to be his family or Jamie even though he was beginning to suspect it would come down to that. The stakes were too high—his feelings were too much. Panic seized him in a fist and Dean shoved Cas's hand off more roughly than necessary. "Get off me, man!" He pushed past Cas rudely and left the bunker without another word to anyone.

When the door slammed behind him, Alex was the first to speak. "I mean… just… what's his problem?" she asked. She was very, very angry and confused and looked like she'd been betrayed at every level.

Sam, too tired to get very mad, shrugged mildly with a face full of chagrin. "Everything, usually."

Alex's stormy, sullen glare cast around the immediate area. "I need to break something," she mumbled. "Maybe his neck."

Cas was doubtful. "That sounds excessive." Then he had a small epiphany. "Although I could heal him if you did inflict a fatal wound…"

The twins looked at Cas with similar are you serious or kidding? looks on their faces… and Sam glanced at his sister briefly, trying to see if she knew, either. Cas didn't seem to be joking and Alex was very clear about the following: "I'm not gonna fatally wound my brother, Cas." She paused. "…I don't think." She looked up the staircase and out of the bunker where Dean had last been with a very forlorn face. Her expression pinched, wavered, and then broke without any warning at all—and she began to sob, throwing herself face-first onto the table as she covered her own head with both hands. "I'm s-sorry I'm just so freaking hungry and… why is he like that?!" she choked out into the tabletop tearfully. She sounded a little panicked and confused at her own actions.

Sam looked utterly confounded at her sudden outburst and he quickly slid his plate over at her. "Here, uh, why uh don't you have these peanut butter cups? I'm okay for now." When she just cried louder and kept her head on the table, Sam hesitantly put a hand on her back and leaned closer, confused about the very over-the-top display. He wracked his brain. "I uh, I think I might have some granola bars in my room somewhere," he suddenly announced then looked up at Cas sort of pleadingly, who was hovering in worry. "Cas, could you go get them?"

Cas was already on the move—obviously glad to have a mission. "Certainly."

Sam rubbed his sister's heaving back uncertainly and tried to figure out what was happening in her mind. "Look—hey—Dean's been off lately," he counseled in rapt concern as Cas's footsteps faded. Alex's loud crying subsided. "Really off. He's glad you're back, he is, I just think he's scared. Freaked out at what happened with Hell and Bobby and… and Dad being back. And I am too."

Alex abruptly shot up to sit. "Yeah but why does he have to be like that?!" she demanded in passionate angry tears. "I hate it!"

Sam was trying to hide his disgruntled expression. Alex cried, yeah, but he'd never seen her cry quite like this. Like a toddler age kid who had gotten her Kool-Aid taken away. He was understanding and calm despite himself, keeping a hand on her arm to calm her down. "I know, I do too," he said in all seriousness. Alex breathed out hard and wiped at her cheeks, seeming to find her own behavior strange, too. Her loud noises had stopped at least. Sam gave her a second to get a grip and then he sighed, trying to explain it the best way he knew how. "Ever since Jamie died, he's been really struggling. He… he had feelings for her I don't think he's ever had for anyone else." Alex looked at Sam and listened hard, obviously sad all over again at the mention of her lost friend. "So when she… killed herself… Dean just kinda shut down. Add in the trials, everything… else… that's happened… basically, he's the CEO of Assholes R' Us." In some ways, Sam couldn't fault him. But talking that way to Alex, acting that way toward her… it was crossing a line and Sam was not happy. His voice darkened slightly. "I'll talk to him later."

Alex was now bleak in contrast to what she'd been a minute ago. "And I'll kick him in the teeth," she said glumly. "Neither thing will change much."

Sam had to admit it. "You're probably right, but it's worth a try." He paused then made sure he was clear: "Talking, not kicking."

Wordlessly, Alex scooted her chair even closer to his, making the wooden arms clack. She put her head onto his shoulder and Sam was immediately touched at the gesture. She cuddled her cheek against his flannel shirt and sniffed softly. "I miss the way our family used to be."

Sam had to chuckle softly as he put his arm around her, because he didn't think this family had ever been picture perfect. "What, the time when I was estranged for years, or the time when I was soulless?" he asked. "Or maybe when Dean and you split for a year and he stayed with Lisa?" Alex made a soft grunt that Sam was pretty sure meant she thought his reminders were ruining her rose-colored glasses. Sam squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Our family's never been perfect," he reminded. "But one thing won't change. We're here for each other no matter what." He immediately felt like the world's biggest hypocrite saying that and he almost expected her to jerk back and then throw the Amelia thing in his face.

But she didn't. "Yeah," she mumbled, then sighed wearily. "I just wish it wasn't like this. Someone always being the third wheel."

Sam was quiet for a long moment. "I mean… to be honest, I really do love how you and I have gotten closer," he admitted a little sheepishly. He had felt like the third wheel most days in the past. After being close as kids, drifting apart from his twin had really hurt him. A lot more than he had let on. "I used to get kinda jealous of you and Dean," he confessed.

Alex looked equally touched at his words even while being saddened. "Well… not much to be jealous of anymore," she said, then sat up and took one of the peanut butter cups and popped it in her mouth blankly.

"He'll come around," Sam insisted firmly.

Alex didn't sound so sure. "Yeah, I guess," she mumbled through a mouthful. She was already popping another cup in, obviously very hungry.

Sam watched her a minute then realized he didn't think she knew. "Hey, you know what date it is, right?" he asked lightly, looking for a way of cheering her up.

She shrugged, fiddling with the wrapper on her third peanut butter cup. "May something?" She froze and looked at him with wide eyes when she realized. "Oh god."

Sam nodded, pulling a falsely sympathetic face. "Yep. We're thirty-one."

Alex shook her head, obviously disliking that. "No. You can be thirty-one, but I'm twenty-five forever. Getting old is for the fucking birds."

Sam gave her a never gonna happen face. "Yeah, good luck with that one, kiddo."

Alex's eyebrows shot up. "Kiddo? I'm like a minute younger than you, grandpa!" He laughed a little, then dissolved into coughs as the vibrations in his throat set off a series of hacks. Alex's face changed from amusement back to severe worry. "Sam… you seriously look terrible," she observed tensely. He tried to brush it off, but he knew it was true. Alex hesitated then got surprisingly focused. "Tell me more about this trial stuff. I don't know if I like what it's doing to you."

Sam shrugged, a little guarded. "I mean, you know the gist. I started 'em a few months ago. The first trial was bathing in the blood of a Hellhound. Second was delivering a righteous soul from Hell to Heaven." He paused there, realizing that she didn't know this latest detail. "Went down there looking for Jamie, actually. Couldn't find her. Had no idea you were there or Dad, either." He stared off blankly, his brow tensing up. "I always thought maybe Dad would maybe get the pearly gates for everything."

Alex ate the last peanut butter cup thoughtfully and shook her head solemnly as she stared hard at the far wall. "I don't think it works like that. Hell is full of people who don't belong there. People who got tricked or duped into a one-way ticket down under." She looked very conflicted. "I honestly can't think of many people who deserve Hell forever. Awhile, maybe. Forever… I dunno."

Sam felt the same. "Well, it's gonna be shut down for good soon."

Alex looked confused. "So what, everyone goes to Heaven from here on out?"

"I dunno," Sam admitted. "I know it'll keep demons where the belong. And that includes Crowley." He felt his jaw grit. "If I don't kill him first."

Alex looked like he felt: murderous. "I'm first in that line," she said, obviously pretty ready to tear him a new one. After a long, tense pause, she looked at him sidelong hard. "Who'd you end up getting out of Hell for that second trial, anyway?"

"Rufus."

"No way." Alex looked mystified. "Why was he there?"

Sam was as unsure as she was. "Don't know. Like you said. A lot of folks end up there who shouldn't."

Alex mulled it over for a couple long beats. "So you do this third and final trial—curing a demon of something—and then… Hell's shut for good and everything's over. And then you'll be… less of a walking corpse?"

Sam smiled faintly at her choice of words. "Yeah, something like that."

"Good." Sam noticed how odd it was that she'd been so emotional a minute ago and now was totally levelheaded. "I hate seeing you sick, Sam."

That was nice, but he didn't like her worrying on his behalf. "I'll be fine."

She nodded and gave him what felt like a brave little smile. "You bet your ass you will be. I'm gonna make sure you are."

A sad little smile flitted over his face. Sam really didn't know how she could just let everything go—not hold his actions of the past against him or bring them up. He was honestly grateful but also waiting for her to inevitably ask 'why did you leave me alone when I needed you? Again? Wasn't the first time shitty enough of you? Why didn't you help me get into Purgatory?' He didn't know if it would be worth much to her because she probably didn't trust him anymore, but he said it anyway: "I'm gonna make sure you're okay, too," he promised somberly, hoping she believed he was gonna try. That he would never let his family down again. That whatever had possessed him to abandon them last year would never possess him again. Alex's expression showed brief confusion at his tone and expression. Sam smiled, looked down, not wanting to broach the subject. "I—I'm just glad you're here with us again. It wasn't the same without you."

She looked at him long and sad, and he could sense a question coming. But it wasn't what he'd predicted. "Are you mad at me, too?" she asked. "For what I did? Selling my soul and all that crap?"

"Mad?" Sam echoed incredulously, then thought about it. Examined his thoughts and searched for anger. He found none. "No. Sad, yeah. I mean, I've been to Hell. Not the same one as you and Dean but…" he clenched his teeth, abruptly emotional as he remembered Hell and the horrors it had presented him with. He still had nightmares. "It kills me that you were there." He looked at her in tense concern. "Are you… are you really okay?"

She looked sad, a little afraid, but courageous. "I will be."

Sam wondered if she was doing what he'd done: hidden the struggle with Hell he'd had after leaving that place. He was gonna keep a close eye on her in any case. But honestly, he had questions. Something didn't add up for him. "Alex… Bobby was gone," Sam started slowly. "He'd been gone. Why did you wait so long to make that deal? Why'd you make it at all?" He hoped he wasn't being too assumptive, but his instincts were whispering to pursue this line of questioning. He was very delicate about his tone and wording, though. "Something just seems a little weird about all of it to me."

Alex looked back at him with this indescribable look on her face. "Do you not remember?" she asked, studying him closely. Remember what? Alex breathed out hard, frowning in thought. And when she took his hand that rested on the table in both of hers, Sam felt a slight jump in worry. Something felt incredibly serious about this. "I—" she trailed off and turned as Sam looked up, too.

Castiel was back and had found the last two granola bars Sam had stashed in his room. "Granola bars," he said, handing them both to Alex with a sincere, worried, hopeful look on his face. "The kind with chocolate."

Alex smiled, but it was a smile tempered by distraction, uncertainty, and something else Sam couldn't identity. "Thanks," she said, then looked at Sam and offered one his way. He guessed whatever she was about to tell him was gonna have to wait. "Want one?" she asked.

He declined with a stern little shake of the head. "Nah, not really hungry. You go ahead." He watched Cas sit down at the head of the table which was closer to Alex. And this time, Sam didn't miss the wedding band on Cas's finger. Hmm. He watched Cas closely for a moment and then glanced at Alex. He definitely needed to talk to Cas. But without Alex present. A shade more somber and serious, Sam pulled up the next file he needed to read.

Alex was unwrapping a granola bar and eating it with a famished gusto. "What are you researching, anyway?" she asked Sam through a mouthful.

"Demon possessions that the Men of Letters recorded," Sam replied in slight distraction. "There's a lot, as you can see. But there's more downstairs in the storage rooms, I think." He pulled over one of the journals he'd been sifting through earlier. "Haven't had a chance to explore everything completely. This place is huge." He turned the page in the journal and he hadn't even read three sentences before he happened onto something very intriguing. A single line of text:

Case 1138. St. Louis, March 8, 1957. Weird! Room 7B.

"Huh." He frowned, immediately thinking this could be something worth checking out. Anyway, he was tired of staring at these freaking files. Sam glanced sidelong and saw that Alex was peering over, craning her neck to try and see what he was looking at. "This entry," he explained. "'Weird' with three exclamation points and then a note about 'room seven-b.'" He made a snap decision and pushed up and out of his chair. "I'm gonna go see if I can find it. You two hang tight."

When Sam was out of earshot, Cas gave Alex a slightly regretful expression. "I interrupted, didn't I? I could tell by the look on your face."

Alex shrugged mildly, chewing a huge mouthful of granola bar. "It's okay. The timing didn't feel totally right to me, anyway." She looked very reluctant. "Might need to give them a chance to process everything before I rock anyone's world again. Also I just feel so fucking weird." Dissatisfied, she looked at the files Sam had left on the table and she almost seemed longing.

"What is it?" Cas asked softly.

Alex stared at the files with increasing yearning. "I feel like I should be doing something." She pulled over one of the files, read it for like three seconds, and then looked hopeless. "Also, feels like I'm totally out of the loop." She looked around the bunker in slight uncertainty. "Men of Letters, trials...? It's like I've been gone forever."

Castiel thought about his answer for a short beat. "You'll catch up," he said, then gave her a small smile. "We both will." His smile grew and he looked abashed and proud at the same time. He sat a little straighter and his chest puffed up just a bit. "I'm gonna be a hunter," he proclaimed, garnering a pleasant, surprised little expression from his wife. "I even started some uh… training, I suppose you could say, when I got out of Purgatory and thought you were…" his smile faded, "gone."

Alex's interest was piqued. Fully intrigued, momentarily distracted from all the stuff bugging her, she set all her attention onto Castiel. "A hunter? Now this is something I haven't heard about." She leaned closer to him and pulled one of his hands into hers, waiting for him to tell her everything.

He did. But first he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of her palm and then asked if he'd told her yet that day how beautiful she was.