Song Remains the Same

Chapter 128 / The Soldier

"We are our choices."
- Jean-Paul Sartre

Alex found her brothers in the library fiddling around with the old film projector—the two of them had just gotten back from their excursion and seemed pretty intensely interested in watching the new reel they'd procured along the way. Apparently, the priest who they'd gone to see claimed that he and Father Thompson (now deceased) had experimented with some sort of demon-curing ritual. The reel the guys were interested in watching was the one that had been made two days before Father Thompson had died. They had a couple of boxes of his things, too—journals, notebooks, some weird odds and ends from his study.

The brothers greeted Alex amicably enough, asking where Cas was and then expressing slight suspicion about Metatron—then proceeding to share some information from their trip in brief, terse sentences. They were visibly tired and they definitely weren't the only ones. Bobby was nowhere to be found, but he'd left a note on the table that said zonked—gonna sleep about twelve hours. Only wake me up if someone's dying. Dad's condition remained the same: comatose.

As the boys got the reel going, Alex settled in with her snacks (even though her appetite was dwindling in favor of an onset of nausea). As they made the final preparations to get the movie going, she watched Dean and Sam in turn discreetly, chewing the inside of her mouth repeatedly and worrying over everyone and everything. Things were high stakes. Yes, she was alive and not in Hell, but this was looking really dire. A wave of stomach-turning nausea made her grimace slightly and press her palm to her abdomen in a futile attempt to make it stop. Alex gazed intensely at her ill-looking twin as the feeling slowly subsided. She was sort of starting to wonder if she were resonating with him or something.

As in on cue, Sam dissolved into a fit of loud, wet coughs. Alex and Dean exchanged a tense glance. It was very much like old times—the communication between oldest brother and silent sister was completely wordless and they understood each other immediately: They were both very worried about their brother who was currently humiliated by his uncontrollable coughing fit. Trying in vain to stifle his hacks, Sam pushed the button on the projector to get things going. The reel started. Alex and Dean reluctantly turned their attention to the screen.

Grainy black and white footage showed a priest interrogating a demon who had possessed a man who had once been a vanilla, suburban father of two. Narrating as he went, the priest began to dose the demon with purified blood, using a needle that he stabbed into the neck to do so—the father noted aloud how it was his own blood which had been 'purified' previously by going into confession. The first few doses of the human blood into the demon's veins seemed to do nothing—the demon just thrashed and roared and cursed, promising death and pain and the usual blah blah blah. However… after the fifth dose, the demon began to change—grow more and more pliable and affected, more emotional. After the eighth dose, the demon was a crying mess, begging for mercy and kindness—then the priest performed some kind of exorcism the Winchesters had never heard before—and the demon—or man—appeared to have lost all the demonic qualities he'd possessed before. And then the reel cut off.

In stunned silence, the Winchesters took a long moment before they said anything. Sam was the first one to find his voice. "Okay. Uh—what the hell did we just watch?"

Blank gazes exchanged. "Did he just... cure a demon… of being a demon?" Alex asked, too dumbstruck to really know what to say or do.

"You can't undemon a demon…" Dean reasoned, although his tone suggested he wasn't so sure.

Sam looked at his brother with eyebrows that were crawling up a wrinkled brow. "Or can you?"

Dean acknowledged that he didn't know with a brief, flabbergasted shrug of the eyebrows as he leaned his arms over the table. He went into deep thought for a couple seconds, then he looked to his siblings for a second opinion. "You guys think we could take this hoodoo on a test drive?"

Alex looked at him doubtfully, not sure about that idea. "What, like get a demonic guinea pig…?"

Dean shrugged semi-defensively. "How else we gonna see if it works?"

Sam seemed on board with the idea. "I mean, I have the exorcism right here…" he said, indicating one of the journal entries he had from the deceased priest's things. "All we need is the blood, consecrated ground, and a demon. So, how do we do this? We summon a demon, trap it—"

"Or—or…" Dean started to look a little more optimistic. "We use one that we've already tagged." While Sam looked mildly aghast, Alex frowned—she didn't know what her brother meant. "Do we still have Dad's old army field surgeon's kit?" Dean asked, getting more and more intent.

Sam became cautious. "It's in the trunk." He hesitated and narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Dean crossed his arms and sat back, an expression like resolution on his face. "Yeah, I think it's time we put humpty dumpty back together again."

There was a short, confused silence on Alex's part where Sam's eyes widened. "Wait." Sam sat to face Dean more straight on and he was incredulous and even a little forbidding. "…you mean Abaddon?" He sounded like he thought Dean couldn't be serious.

When Sam said that name and Alex realized what her oldest brother meant, she sat straighter. "Whoa—hold on, you said she was like really bad news," she protested, already resistant to the idea on principle. "Didn't you two go to great pains to make sure she wouldn't get put back together? Didn't Henry—Granddad, whatever—die doing that?"

Their sister's admonishment made both brothers chasten slightly. But Dean was quick to remain stubborn. "Look, maybe it's not the idea of the year, but what's the alternative?" he asked then shot her a semi-dark look. "I don't exactly feel like putting out a homing beacon on us when Crowley is out there and probably looking to find you and Dad."

It was Alex's turn to get quiet. Crowley. The name alone shook her up and she didn't want them to see how much so. To cover that up, she put on a careless, tough facade and half rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms and sat back in her chair defiantly. "Well fine. But just FYI, you guys are not leaving me here for this one."

Dean stood up, and he had on his argument face and his this-is-how-it's-gonna-be voice. "Now look, if you think you're leaving this place after everything that happened—"

"I'm not missing this!" Alex snapped forcefully as she shot up to stand. The sudden exclamation and movement made her brothers stare. "Look, I just can't stay here and do nothing; I can't…" be without you guys. Feel useless. Worry myself to death. Be alone with Dad if he dies. She swallowed and tried to appear less petrified of every bad thought racing through her mind. "I just don't wanna be alone right now, okay? And I can help." Maybe it was kind of jacked up of her, but she decided to use her little-sister wiles to guilt them into taking her with them. She put on her best sad face and big doe eyes then let her voice waver with a hint of sadness. "I just… I just wanna be with my brothers," she said, and both of them reacted visibly. Alex didn't really have to fake it, honestly. "After what happened to me… after all this time apart... I don't wanna be without you both."

It worked like a charm. Dean was doubtful but an inch from cracking—mentioning Hell like she had obviously tugged his heartstring. With an extremely empathetic, emotional look on his face, Sam looked ready to scoop her up and never let her go. As such, he offered a couple of convincers to their brother: "I mean it's really not that far from here, Dean…" he ventured hopefully. "And if we run into any problems, we just call Cas." Dean glanced at Alex and he was silent and hard-faced as he sullenly thought it over.

"Promise I won't do anything loco," Alex said, giving an innocent attempt at a smile. But her stomach was feeling so queasy that she knew she looked ill instead.

Jaw clenched, Dean huffed out a harsh breath through his nose then pointed at Alex with warning. "You gotta be in one of our lines of sight at all times, you hear me?" he demanded.

Alex batted his finger away, half annoyed and half amused. "I hear you, doofus."

"Yeah, sorry for being concerned about your safety," Dean muttered, then made a face when Alex bent over the table and reached for a blank sheet of paper. "What are you doing?"

She was already scrawling quickly—writing of course being one of the things she was best at doing quickly. "Leaving a note for Bobby so if he wakes up he knows where we are."

He relented. "Ah." Dean hesitated then a touch of humor came into his voice. "That his Winnebago up there? What a damn eyesore."

Sam gave a soft little laugh. "You want one, don't you?" he teased knowingly.

Dean shot his brother a look. "Shaddup."

Alex smacked her pen down onto the table and declared, "Shotgun."

Sam was mildly indignant at the unexpected statement. "Hey, wh—" he came up short then indicated himself petulantly and then tried a guilt-trip of his own. "Come on, you know how long my legs are," he complained.

Alex gave him a trollish smile, already imagining him crammed into the backseat with his knees in his face. Sisters really were evil creatures, weren't they? "Sorry," she apologized falsely. "The rules of shotgun are unflinching, my friend," she teased.

Sam sighed in tired, good natured defeat. "Lucky you're so cute," he said. "Or we might have to throw down." He caught her making a face as a wave of nausea pitched over her and his playfulness evaporated. "You okay?"

Dean's sharp gaze snapped over to her, too. Alex shrugged, trying to downplay it like it was no big deal. "Stomach hurts." She didn't want to alarm them until she knew more.

There was a soft laugh as Sam nodded his understanding. "Yeah. Mine too. And, uh, oh yeah. Everything else."

The twins shared a beat-up smile briefly before Dean, already grabbing his jacket and headed out, hurried them along. "Come on, tweedle dum and tweedle dee. Daylight's wastin'."

Ojai, California

After Castiel left Alex with her brothers, he went to the place where Metatron had specified—a restaurant called Eugenie's—and then took several thorough moments to invisibly check the surrounding area for any sign of traps, dangers, or treachery. Even though he had his misgivings, he found nothing suspicious at all and finally, when he decided there was nothing left to do, he went to Metatron and made himself visible. The scribe was seated outside at the quaint little café, happily spreading a cloth napkin across his lap.

"Ah, how nice of you to join me!" Metatron exclaimed jovially when he spotted the other angel. "What took you so long?" A broad smile rested on his face for a moment before it fell and he frowned slightly, scanning around in confusion. "And… where's your better half?"

"Not here," Cas said stiffly, disliking Metatron's interest in Alex. As far as Castiel was concerned, he needed to protect her from everyone he didn't know—and angels in particular were never to be trusted. Especially after Naomi. Cas got straight to business as he took a seat across from the scribe. He had many many questions and felt short on time. "Why did you leave Heaven?"

Metatron breezed right over Cas's question. "What, does she not like me?" he asked in a slightly indignant tone. He sat back in his seat, mulling it over with a wounded expression. "Really wanted her to like me," he murmured to himself. He abruptly winced and looked at Cas for explanation. "Is it the hair? This vessel's hair sucks."

Castiel was mildly frustrated. "It's not… your hair. Metatron, I need to know more about you. Why you left Heaven, what you've been doing on earth, why you're now deciding to… to become part of all of this."

Metatron smiled ever so slightly in a distinctly coy way. "Now Castiel, I can't have this conversation on an empty stomach, you're gonna need to hold your horses." Cas made a face. What horses? The scribe glanced to his left and brightened. "Ah! Well, speak of the devil." At the look on Cas's face, Metatron grew slightly disgruntled. He sighed. "Not the literal devil, Castiel…"

A smiling young woman came to the table and set down a plate piled high in crepes in front of a very gleeful Metatron. Upon quick examination of the newcomer, Castiel gathered that this young woman was an employee of the restaurant. She had brown hair, a kind face, and her name tag said Jane. "Here you go," she said, smiling affably. Metatron said thank you even as he began to dig in hungrily. Jane looked at Cas intently, glancing at the top of his head briefly before looking into his eyes. "Can I get you anything?"

Her question took him off guard. "Oh. Um." He didn't eat, of course, but he wasn't sure if it would look strange to sit here at a human restaurant and partake of nothing. What should he order? Then, he suddenly got an idea and became genuinely curious and even a little optimistic. "Do you have… sour straws?" he asked hopefully. Those had been what Alex wanted at the gas station and couldn't find. If he got them for her, he could imagine how happy she would be.

The server was dubious and doubtful. "Sour straws? …The candy?" Her expression softened and she smiled at him in an odd way—half amused, half intrigued. Actually, it reminded Castiel of how Alex looked at him. Immediately, he felt a slight sense of wrongness and he felt himself sitting back a little further from her. "Um… no," she said in a slightly teasing voice. "We don't have those here. Get you something else?" Her expression was helpful and kind, but there was something about it that felt too intense to Castiel and his eyes dodged hers.

"No, thank you."

She still smiled. "Okay. Well, lemme know if you change your mind." She eyed him a moment longer, that smile still playing at the edges of her mouth. "And hey… I like your coat." She winked at him and then left the table, leaving a semi-baffled Castiel to stare in confusion. Had she been flirting with him?

Metatron watched the exchange wistfully. "I knew I should have picked a better-looking vessel," he lamented through a mouthful. "All the ladies love you." He glanced around the nearby tables and noticed something else. "And some of the gentlemen, too, I see."

Castiel looked a couple tables over and saw a very clean-cut, well-dressed man watching him intently. When Cas made eye contact, the man smiled flirtatiously and waved with just a wiggle of his fingertips. Flustered, Cas looked back at Metatron, who was smiling wolfishly. "Why does that bear relevance in this context?" he asked gruffly, annoyed at all of the sidestepping. "I only care if one lady loves me." He leaned forward over the table, showing that he was ready to get persuasive by physical means if he needed to. "Now what did you mean, we can shut down Heaven?"

Metatron had a far off look in his eyes as he chewed languidly. "Gosh, it's too bad she didn't come," he continued, then scrunched his face up hard, dropped his fork onto his plate, and crossed his arms. "Does she really not like me?" he sounded like such a thing were impossible.

Letting an inconvenienced sigh escape his nostrils, Castiel supposed that it wouldn't do too much harm to indulge the scribe in a few basic answers. "Honestly, no," he said flatly. "She does not like you." Metatron looked crushed. Castiel shrugged ever so slightly, eyes going to curiously scan the table setting in front of him. Gleaming silverware, a fancy rolled napkin. Human tradition was so interesting. "But she doesn't like angels."

Metatron smiled coyly at that statement. He picked up his fork, stabbed it onto his plate, then popped entirely too much crepe into his mouth and munched happily, watching Cas the entire time. "Well she likes you."

Reluctant to agree with Metatron (it felt wrong on principle of stubbornness), Cas tried to cover up his pleased reaction with a sullen voice. "I'm obviously an exception to the rule."

Dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, the scribe smiled thoughtfully. "Yes you are, aren't you. Must make you feel special." There was a familiarity and pride in his voice… something that made Castiel feel a sense of bond toward the scribe whether he wanted to or not. "You are special, Castiel," Metatron said. "Your name stands out among the thousands of the host. You're practically famous up there."

"Infamous," Cas corrected morosely.

Metatron sighed noisily and nodded that he had to agree there. "Yeah, I imagine it's a problem sometimes, huh. Your epic love story's public domain; everybody knows—and therefore it's pretty easy to see what your weak spot is." Cas's eyes met Metatron's. "I guess you worry a lot about her being used against you or hurt, don't you?" he asked gently.

Cas's jaw tightened as a hundred horrible memories rushed through his mind. "It's happened too many times already."

Metatron nodded understanding and set his fork down carefully then leaned forward in rapt attention. "I have to admit, your story… what I know of it… fascinates me! Moves me." He had an animated cheer to him, a quickness, a cleverness. Cas studied him carefully as the scribe smiled yet again and put his own face into a cupped hand. "She must be a really special human, huh."

The interest Metatron possessed was beginning to appeal to Castiel now. Metatron didn't seem to judge the relationship as other angels had—he seemed understanding and less concerned with celestial rules and regulations than most angels were. And there weren't words enough to describe how special Alex was. How important. "She is," Castiel confirmed quietly. He thought of her and his heart felt too full to contain the things he felt. Those feelings urged him to be quicker and stop wasting time. However, he was beginning to feel less suspicious of Metatron, who seemed rather bumbling and harmless. As such, Castiel took a different approach. "I don't mean to press, but I don't have the luxury of time," Cas said quietly and intensely. "I need to know what you meant about closing Heaven." He paused and then added on a final word. "Please."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course," Metatron said as if he'd forgotten. He leaned a forearm heavily across the table then gestured with his other hand, flapping it around lazily. "Well, you know, the trials—they're basically God's little 'pull in case of emergency.' There's one for every potential disaster—the Leviathans get out of control, you put 'em in Purgatory. Demons get a little too demonic, toss 'em into Hell. Angels get uppity, slam the pearly gates." He made a slamming motion by whacking his hands together.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. It sounded so simple. "Slam the gates." It was strange he had never heard of this before, but he supposed there was a lot he didn't know.

"Yeah, lock Heaven so no more malarky to worry about," Metatron said helpfully.

Thinking it over, Cas was quick to come up with several very concerning questions. "Wouldn't that leave human souls locked out though? Prevent the passage of newly-deceased spirits from traveling this plane of existence to that one?"

Metatron scoffed immediately with great airs. "Oh no, no! It's a one-way street. Angels can't get out. Souls can get in though." He chuckled. "God isn't that dumb. That'd cause quite the traffic jam."

There was a long pause. "And closing Heaven, it's… permanent?"

"Permanent. Not reversible," Metatron confirmed. "You'd have to be sure—I mean sure sure—it was what you wanted to do."

Indeed. Again, Cas gave another long, somber pause as he weighed the possibilities and what this would mean for the Heaven and earth alike. More and more, he felt it might be the right choice. But he had felt things were the right choices before and he had been greatly mistaken. "And you know the steps to complete this trial…?" he ventured cautiously.

Metatron's grin split his ruddy face. "Well duh! I wrote 'em all down." He gave Cas a significant look. "It's not something you forget. Look, I think a little alone time would be good for the angels. At the very least, it'd stop the fighting up there from spilling out down here, which will happen." He sighed and his gaze drifted off. "We both know it will. It always does."

Castiel knew that all to well. He hesitated to once more evaluate Metatron—weedy, small, blundering Metatron. He didn't look like the most capable angel in existence. "So… you're gonna complete these tests?" Cas asked doubtfully.

Metatron was immediately averse. "No, oh no. I can't. I'm a pencil pusher, always have been. I'm not strong enough. But you—you are a warrior. You've made quite the name for yourself… you've commanded wars, stopped an apocalypse… you've gone to Hell and back for love. Literally!" Uncomfortable at the praise, Cas was quiet and undecided as Metatron continued. "I've got the plan. You've got the muscle, the motivation. We can do this. Heaven needs your help, Castiel. And I know what you're worried about—you think you'll do the trials and then get stuck up there since you know, you're a halo. But, but—! The beauty of this thing is that whatever realm you finish the last trial in is the realm you'll stay in. So… you won't have to say goodbye to Mrs. Castiel just yet. Just make sure you're down here when you do the last task and boom. You're golden."

In the past, endeavors to take control where Heaven was concerned had backfired royally. Castiel was tempted but dubious. He tried to verbalize his feelings. "It… it all sounds very good but…" he shook his head, realizing that he couldn't. He had promised not to leave again. He had someone to get back to. "I'm done with everything up there," he said heavily. "With trying to intervene and change things. It always backfires. I don't serve Heaven anymore. I belong here on earth. I've made promises I can't go back on. And I'm tired of trying to be two places at once." He looked down at his hand which rested on the table. His wedding band was there gleaming up at him, and the sight of it tugged his heart and renewed his decision. "Heaven is not where my interests lie."

Metatron followed his gaze to the ring and nodded. "Interesting…" he commented, eyeing Castiel in slight disapproval. "You're the one that caused the problems there, though, aren't you? You should be the one to fix them. And I mean, really, how safe is it? How can you do nothing, knowing what you know?" Cas looked at him in confusion and Metatron explained himself in a grave tone. "All those radical angels up there, gunning for revenge… and you and I both know that each and every last one knows about her. Your precious little human wife." It was true, and made Castiel's blood chill. Metatron sounded sympathetic. "I heard about what Naomi did with her. You think she's the only one who could swing that? Buddy, every day is a flight risk if you don't do something and now. It's you against a thousand, Castiel. The odds aren't in your favor." The scribe sighed softly as if he were regretful to be the voice of reason. "You know I only say these things to you to try and help." He smiled sadly. "Believe it or not, I'm your friend. Your new friend. But new or not, friends… well, they look out for each other." His smile lost its sadness. "And hey. We're more than friends anyway. We're family."

He didn't care too much about that—he felt more of a family bond with the Winchesters than with angels—but either way, Castiel knew that his mind and heart were in complete turmoil and that Metatron did make very good points. Castiel stood up stiffly, his expression unreadable. "I need to make a call." And without further explanation, he disappeared from sight. Metatron sighed and went back to sawing his crepe into bites.

Lebanon, Kansas

On crunching gravel, the Impala rolled up to an old warehouse that was surrounded by a weed-choked landscape. In the backseat and squinting against bright mid-day light, Alex's eyes scanned over the dilapidated structure. Inside that building, hidden away for safekeeping, was Abaddon's body. Apparently Sam and Dean had trapped the super-demon by using a bullet etched with a devil's trap then they'd cut her head off and separated the body parts. Just in case. Apparently this bitch was bad news. Alex wasn't exactly in the mood to meet her much less be face-to-face with more demons after her extended stay in Hell. But she refused to run away. Just because Hell had traumatized her more than she was admitting didn't mean she had to stay that way. She was going to recover and make it through by carrying on like before. Still… she dreaded this and had been quiet the entire car ride (which had been a measly ten minutes).

The car stopped a modest distance from the warehouse side, and the second it did, Alex got out. It was important to stay tough, or at least look that way. If Sam and Dean believed she was fine, maybe she could believe it, too. Hands shoved into her jacket pockets, she had her game face on. Behind her, she could hear the brothers exiting the car—that familiar creak of the Impala doors was a comforting sound.

"Hey, wait a sec," Sam said, and the way he said it alerted Alex to the fact that the moment she'd been hoping would not come… was coming. She shut her eyes, breathed out, then turned around and put an unassumingly blank look on her face. She'd witnessed the silent conversation the brothers had been carrying on ever since she got back. And now they were finally gonna confront her. They stood together, and it felt like she was facing them down, almost.

Sam glanced uncertainly at Dean, indicating wordlessly that he should be the one to speak first. With an awkward clearing of the throat, Dean gave Alex his best this-is-serious-stuff squint. "Okay look. Before we go in there, there's something that's… that we gotta talk about." Alex's stomach turned and she fought to keep her expression from giving away the fact that she knew exactly what they were gonna bring up. She even made a slightly confused face, hoping that maybe they would change their mind if she didn't look like she knew what was going on. No such luck. "Be straight with us," Dean said in a gentle but commanding way. Sam was looking at Alex with this intensely empathetic expression the entire time as Dean continued. "We've all been there now, the three of us. So you know Sam and I get it. We know what that place is like. And it ain't pretty." Alex clenched her jaw. She was both annoyed and panicking. "How are you?" Dean asked, refusing to let her out from his close gaze. "Really. And no 'I'm fine' crap."

To cover up her inner screaming emotions, Alex basically glared—first at Dean, then at Sam, accusing them silently of asking a question they shouldn't have. "I'm fine," she said hard and slow, challenging them almost.

Her response did different things to both brothers. Sam was silent and heartbroken. Dean looked cynical and vaguely amused in a bitter way for a brief second, shaking his head no. Obviously, neither one believed her. Dean called her bluff. "Al—look me dead in the eye and tell me that you're fine." She did look him in the eye, but said nothing. He dared her to tell the truth silently but she said nothing.

Sam was of a gentler approach. "You can't be fine," he said quietly.

It was so weird—in the past Dean had usually been the one who could get through to her like that with just a few words and a simple look. But today, it was Sam. And suddenly Alex felt like she had no other choice but to say the truth, at least in part. Her eyes fell. Her guard softened. "I mean… it was Hell," she admitted in a quiet, unsteady voice. She was careful not to give away how bad it was. "Even after you escape it you… haven't totally escaped. It's still with you, a little bit."

Sam's eyes were shining and his voice went all husky. "Yeah," he agreed, and that single word made Alex start to tear up, too. "Sometimes you wonder if this is all some dream they're feeding you," he said. "If the blanket's gonna get yanked off your eyes again." He shook his head. "If anything that's happening to you is real at all." There was a pause and Sam's eyes pierced through Alex to her freaking soul. "I bet you're scared to go to sleep, huh," he commented softly. "I know I was."

Yes. She was. And the way they were looking at her was too much. Especially Dean now after what Sam had just said… Alex's brief moment of vulnerability scared her and she abruptly turned into a stone wall. "Stop it. Both of you, just stop." She shook her head and breathed out hard, crossed her arms. "I don't wanna think about it. And that's how I survive." She nodded toward the warehouse. "Now are we ever gonna do this or what?"

"Oh come on, really?" Dean looked insulted. "You're gonna front? With us?" When she said nothing, his jaw worked oddly. "Look, we're just worried about you."

A feeling of guilt made Alex lose a little hardness. Looking down and breathing out softly, inwardly lamenting herself, she nodded shallowly. "I know. You don't have to be. Seriously." She felt so tired.

There was a soft little airy sound—a whisper of a scoffing laugh. "We're your brothers." Sam smiled sadly, if it could be called a smile. "It's kinda in the job description." Dean nodded wan agreement, still watching her closely.

Alex returned Sam's smile, even if it was a little tight. "Just remind me to get some Pepto Bismol on the way back. My stomach is killing." She made an unhappy little sound.

Dean became concerned. She wasn't a complainer usually. "You getting sick or something?"

Shrugging shallowly, Alex was at the least glad to have a change in conversation subject matter… but this wasn't that much better. "Who knows." She glanced at her twin who was as colorless and drawn as ever. She almost didn't admit it, and then she figured what the crap, why not? "I wondered if I might be resonating with Sammy, honestly."

Even as Dean's face screwed into a frown, Sam's face fell. "…What?" her twin asked in the softest and most horrified voice.

Alex was quiet. "I mean, is it really such a crazy thought?"

Dean let out a hard breath of air like he was just done with everything. "Twins," he commented in a flat attempt to be glib. "Sharing the suck since nineteen eighty-three, huh?" In unintentional unison, Alex and Sam gave him an annoyed look. Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right," he grumbled, then indicated the warehouse with a nod of the head. "Well, put a pin in that for later. We ready to wake up sleeping bitchy?"

Alex pulled a face. "Can't wait."

They headed in, but not even three steps later, Alex stopped when her pocket began to vibrate. She pulled the phone out. Cas Calling. A spike of nervous panic raced through her. This had to be bad news. Why would he call instead of just show up? Her brothers were looking back at her curiously as she stared at her cheap cell phone. He was calling to tell her he was lying in a ditch and dying somewhere. At least, that's what her first instinct said. Alex held up a finger to her brothers. "Hold on… it's Cas." She turned around and walked off fast back to the Impala and tried not to sound terrified when she answered. "C-Cas? Hey."

His deep, familiar voice sounded on the other end. "Hello, Alex." He didn't sound like he was mortally wounded. Still.

Alex tried not to sound as alarmed as she felt. "Uh—hi. Um… w-why are you calling me instead of beaming over?"

His answer was gentle and sad at the same time. "Because seeing your face and then leaving again is something I don't like."

Oh. Alex let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and a brief, tense smile worked across her face. That was cute. And sweet. She glanced over at her brothers—both were watching her closely. Alex lowered her voice and turned away again. "So… you're okay?" She wanted to be sure.

She could hear a soft smile on his voice. "Yes, I'm fine." He abruptly sounded a touch more concerned, as if it had just occurred to him that perhaps she wasn't okay. "And you? Is everything all right? Are you with Sam and Dean?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, calming down the more she heard his voice. "We're out doing some stuff for the trials. But what about Metatron? What's his deal?"

Cas sighed softly, and Alex imagined how he looked as he did so. "I've spoken with the scribe at length to determine his, uh, 'deal.' He wants to keep the earth safe from more rogue angels. Ones like Naomi." That name made Alex's blood chill by a couple of degrees. "I'm of the same mind, honestly. After what she did to you…" he trailed off and Alex said nothing, but her heart beat a little harder. Castiel assured her in his most severe tone: "I won't have anything like that happen to you ever again." He took a beat and his voice acquired an urgent quality. "If I do this—if I close Heaven—it would keep us safe. Alex, it would…" he seemed a little flustered or overwhelmed. "We could finally be together and not be forever looking over our shoulders for danger."

That sounded like everything she had ever wanted. She almost screamed yes, do it, but she made herself be cautious and smart. "So… closing Heaven for good—keeping angels locked upstairs," she ventured, trying to figure out where the catch was.

"Yes. Exactly."

Hmm. But… "Would that like… block souls out of going to Heaven when they die?"

"Metatron says no," Cas replied. "It's a one-way street, so to speak."

Her heart was beating fast again but this time because it sounded like a solution—the solution—and Alex wanted that. An end to the constant worries and danger. Cas here with her forever. But that brought up a new question. "What about you, though? Would you ever be able to go back there?"

Cas's answer was too short and neutral for her to tell how to take it. "No."

"And… is that okay with you?"

He took a pause before replying and when he did reply, his tone was distinctly tender. "Heaven is not what I love."

Alex shut her eyes. I love you too. "Then… I mean… do you think this is the right thing to do?" she asked softly.

Castiel sounded vaguely cynical. "I never know what the right thing to do is."

Protective senses flared. "Cas—don't do that," Alex commanded—she recognized that he was going to bad places in his mind. "Just… just take a deep breath and use your head," she coached. She knew the extent of his mistakes better than anyone else did—but she also knew his potential and his kindness, his compassion and his heart. She knew those better than anyone else, too. "You are smart. And capable. You hear me?"

"I hear you," he confirmed in typical Cas fashion. "The connection is fine." A helpless, weary grin broke Alex's face as she looked down and shook her head. Unaware of his verbal gaffe, Cas hesitated and then ventured a conclusion. "You want me to make this decision."

"Well it is your decision…" she pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly, "but… it affects you. And us."

And how. "Yeah, but I can't tell you what to do," she said then quickly realized that he would probably do anything she asked of him. "Or I guess, I mean, I shouldn't," she said. "This needs to be your choice."

He sighed again haggardly and Alex wished she could see him. "I only know that I want us to live in a world where all of Heaven isn't always in pursuit," Cas finally said, his voice very soft and forlorn. "Where we'll be safe. And together."

Yes. She wanted that too. Alex felt relieved and worried all at once. Relieved because if he could close Heaven, they really might have a chance at normal. Worried because what if something happened? And what if normal didn't work for them? She chose not to think about it. One thing at a time. "Sounds like you already know what to do."

Cas was resolute and bittersweet. "Yes. I think I do." He sounded so far away on the other end of the line… and then, like he was reading her thoughts, he softly admitted what she was thinking too: "I wish I were with you right now."

Smiling to herself sadly, Alex had to agree. "Yeah, me t—" she didn't finish her sentence because Cas appeared in front of her at that moment, his phone still at his ear. Surprised, Alex stood there with her phone stuck to her ear as she blinked a couple times. "Well what happened to the saying goodbye thing?" she asked sort of dumbly.

He remembered his phone and without taking his eyes off her, he lowered it. "I needed to see you," he said, and then they were embracing, phones still held loosely in their hands but other than that forgotten.

Something about the hug felt like a goodbye and it made Alex's chest catch. "You're really sure about this?" she asked in a whisper as she squeezed his familiar shape.

His voice reverberated through her when he made his quiet reply. "Yes. I really think I am." Alex clung tighter because right now she felt so strongly that she couldn't be without him—the nightmares, the sickness, the fear of Hell and demons and being alone… it was so much. But she said nothing and told herself she would get through it. Turning her head in toward his neck, she buried her face there against his skin and felt how his hand gently held the back of her head. She committed his smell and warmth and feel to memory. "I'll be as quick as possible," he murmured. She squeezed her eyes closed and nodded. "I won't rest until this is done." His deep voice was rife with regret and guilt. "I'm so sorry—I know I promised I wouldn't leave again."

She knew that he had. But she also knew that this was important and could make or break them. She was choosing to trust him in this. So, she pulled back and his hands remained tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. Their eyes met and Alex had to fight a thick throat. "Just come back safe, Cas."

His eyes softened and his voice grew huskier. "I will," he said, then touched her face so gently and leaned in and gave her a slow, soft kiss that they were both grudging to leave. Cas didn't draw away far—his lips still brushed hers when he whispered three more words to her. "I always will." He kissed her again and again, softly, in a way that felt yearning and reverent—in a way that felt like he was savoring every last sensation. Alex remained convinced that she could kiss him forever and remain lost in this world he created for her. But nothing lasted forever, least of all that kiss.

Finally, their foreheads rested together. Their gazes held, and Alex's was growing distressed. "Don't kiss me like that," she whispered, feeling so emotional that she could cry.

Cas's eyebrows pushed in together slightly. "Why not?"

"...Because it feels like you're afraid you're never gonna see me again."

His fingers tightened at the back of her neck—a reassuring touch. "That's something I'll always be afraid of," he admitted. Then his voice became stronger. "But I'll never let it happen."

She nodded yes, and they silently shared a knowing look that this was a see you later. "Call me if you need me," Alex said, determined to act brave until she felt brave, too.

A bittersweet smile showed on Castiel's face. "I always need you," he murmured, then pressed a long kiss to her forehead. Her eyes fell closed briefly as her heart tugged. It was over before it had begun and Castiel stepped away, loathe to go. "I'll be back," he promised. Then with a glance and a nod toward her silent, watchful brothers, he disappeared.

When he left a blank space behind, the brothers quickly approached, Sam reaching her first. "Everything okay?"

Unable to kill the feeling of dread knotting in her stomach, Alex nodded distractedly. "Yeah. Um." She cleared her throat and sniffed. "Okay as it can be, I guess." Sam regarded her with that tense, understanding worry on his face as Dean's more pinched expression showed that he knew something was up. Alex sighed and then came out with it because the sooner her guys knew about it, the better. "So uh…" she sat on the words for a second before decisively letting them out into the world. "Cas is gonna close Heaven."

Sam's eyebrows shot high as Dean's slammed low. "Close Heaven?" Dean repeated almost dangerously. "Like… close it?" He paused, making himself sound stupider every second. "Close it close it?"

"No, the other kind of close it," Alex retorted with a grumpy look aimed at him.

Dean held a hand up, trying to process what he'd just been told. "Okay. Hold the damn phone. You need to fill us in. Now."

Ojai, California

Castiel reappeared at Eugenie's in the seat he'd been in before, and even as Metatron looked up in vague surprise, the other angel gave a stiff declaration. "I'll do it."

Metatron put his hands up in brief celebration as he grinned in pleasant surprise. "Ah, the wife approves! Excellent!" He winked. "You won't regret it. When all's said and done… everyone will be much better off for what you're about to do." He hesitated and grew more serious. "But you understand this is, um, not going to be easy."

Castiel nodded just once, wondering how long these trials would take. Surely no more than a few days and then this would be behind them. "Yes, I understand." He thought of life in the bunker and wondered if he should learn how to cook. The Winchesters might find that helpful…

Metatron became doubtful and even a little cautioning. "No, you don't. Your morals? You're going to have to bend them. Significantly. See our waitress?" He nodded over at Jane, who was a few tables over and smiling as she handed out drinks. Metatron sighed in regret. "She's the first trial—gotta cut her heart out."

Castiel's expression dropped in shock. Had he misheard? "What? Cut her h—?" He was aghast. "No, she's... she's just a girl!" he protested, horrified. What kind of trial required the heart of an innocent human?

Disgruntled, Metatron lost patience. "Look closer, Castiel," he said. "I swear to our dad, you are really losing your touch. Use your angel vision, geez, did you forget how?" He gave Castiel a look that seemed entirely too pointed. Well, it was true… Castiel was becoming more used to his more human functions in this vessel and he rarely looked at things with his angelic abilities anymore, but he didn't see… and then, just as he thought that, Castiel realized upon much closer cellular inspection what Metatron said next: "She's a Nephilim, an abomination."

Castiel stared at Jane. His mouth had gone dry. "…Nephilim? The offspring of an angel and a human? I… I thought that wasn't allowed."

"It's not," Metatron replied and then gave Cas a semi-coy look. "How's that gonna work for you and the missus, huh?" Castiel stared at Jane, so many new thoughts and worries racing through his mind. Two young faces ran through his mind. Faces that bore such resemblance to him and Alex. He remembered how strong his son had been. Nephilim. The word echoed through his mind. Was his daughter one too? Unsettled, Castiel found breathing difficult. "All the more reason to close Heaven and get those whackadoo halos off your back," Metatron said, breezing on and then lacing his fingers together and leaning across the table intently. "Keep the kiddos safe. See, the thing about Nephilim is they're super duper powerful… often more powerful than an archangel, even. Each one in history has had his or her own unique strengths and powers. They've all been nearly invincible. Archangels di-iiiidn't really like them, to say the least."

Castiel and the other angels had never known anything of the Nephilim except their name and what they were—in truth, he was shocked to know any existed at all. Legend had said they no longer walked the earth. "How many are there?" he asked, wondering how they could be kept a secret for so long.

"Well… Michael killed all of them awhile ago from what I hear," Metatron said delicately. "Weren't that many, but there were enough that he got nervous they'd figure out how to get into Heaven and then, you know—overthrow the joint, I guess. So, he nipped the problem in the bud and wiped 'em all out. But he missed one. And you are looking at it."

Indeed he was. And he was supposed to cut her heart out. He didn't think he could. Oh Heaven help him, he didn't think he could. Castiel felt such great sadness and helplessness in that moment. "Who is her father?" he asked quietly, watching how Jane laughed and nodded as she spoke with a customer. Did she know? What she was?

Metatron had a slight smirk on his face. "Well. I'm not big on spoilers, but if I had to give you an answer… I'd say the answer to your question is tricky..."

That made no sense, but Castiel was already thinking something else. "But she didn't choose to be a Nephilim, so she's innocent," he said, so against this idea. "I can't possibly—cut her heart out." He looked at Metatron desperately. Surely there was another way.

Metatron shrugged helplessly. "And therein lies the tragedy," he said with a sigh. "That creature over there doesn't even know what she is or why she's got special powers." He smiled almost wistfully as he watched Jane. "Lives in secret and tries to be normal but knows she isn't. It's quite a story, if I'm being honest. Really tugs at the heartstrings." He regarded Castiel sadly. "I told you it wasn't gonna be easy. But if you want to do this, Castiel… if you really want to close Heaven and protect your own… you gotta ask yourself what's more important—this Nephilim's life or your family? Jane… or your wife? Your children?"

Castiel's eyes lost their conflicted quality and became grim. His voice was steady, low, and strong. When it was put before him like that, he understood that his hand was forced. "You already know the answer to that question."