Song Remains the Same
Chapter 133 / For I Have Sinned
"Forgiveness means letting go of the hope for a better past."
- Lama Surya Das
There was a soft, steady dripping sound as Sam sat in silence in the old confessional stall.
His body simultaneously hurt and felt uncomfortably light—like he could just float out of himself at any given moment. These trials had made their mark, more than he had let on to anyone. And he was feeling worse by the day. But he accepted the price, and was going to follow this to whatever bitter end. For once, he was going to do something right.
Taking a deep, grounding inhale, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing to close out his negative thoughts, but instead, all he could hear were his brother's accusations of his wrongdoings from a moment ago: The demon blood. Ruby. Killing Lilith. Letting Lucifer out. And there would have been more to that list if Sam hadn't walked away. It wasn't hard to know what those accusations would have been, either: abandoning the family numerous times. Losing his soul. Almost killing his sister because of it. Leaving Alex while Dean was in Purgatory. There was more, and Sam was overwhelmed by all the feelings that all chorused together to shout one thing at him: you're a bad person.
Was there a way to feel lower than he did right now? Sam didn't think so, and his eyes ached. He shut his eyes harder against tears, clearing his throat and trying to keep it together.
He thought of the night he left the family for Stanford. His first, unforgivable sin that had been held over his head so many times since. He remembered how angry Dad had been—how betrayed Dean had acted—how Alex looked so bitter and resentful, crossing her arms and sullenly watching the argument that took place then sitting idly by and ignoring it all at a certain point. No one had supported him in his decision to go try to live a normal life. And for quite some time, Sam really had thought he could escape from this bizarre, painful, dysfunctional way of existing. But he had learned by now, over and over, that he couldn't escape it. Ever. This—hunting and all that came with it—was his destiny. And yet even last year he was trying to run away from it again. Trying to have a normal life with a woman named Amelia and a dog… leaving his sister alone to figure it all out on her own. Sam shuddered—he still couldn't understand it. His memories of everything were so blurry and when he tried to think about them harder, he came up against roadblocks, headaches, and confusion.
His thoughts continued to drift: Disconnected, unimportant flashes of memories of their younger years played through his mind. Some of it bringing smiles and a warm feeling in his chest, before the inevitable turn to the more painful, dark things. Their childhood had been really hard on Sam. And it had been even harder always feeling like he didn't belong there, or wasn't ever good enough for anyone. That's why Sam had gotten validation and approval from academics, where he could measure his success and be praised by teachers and educators who didn't care if he wasn't committed to hunting down a demon for bloodlust and revenge. He had felt seen and understood in school a thousand times more than he ever had at home.
He didn't understand himself or his feelings, and at the same time labelled himself a coward and a fool. A selfish tyrant and at the same time a treasonous flake. He wished, so hard, that he could have a do-over. He needed to prove himself. Not only to them, but to himself. He felt like a burden. A blight. And this was a weary, tired, exhausting feeling he couldn't carry much longer.
Sam opened his stinging, watering eyes slowly to the dark and dank confessional booth and he thought about his life as a whole. Maybe finally, he could make it up to everyone. Maybe now, at the end of it all, he could find redemption. These trials were going to be his elegy. He had to do this. Had to.
In a quiet, choked whisper, Sam began to confess his sins one by one to the empty, listening air.
Outside of the church, under a still-foggy sky, Dean and Alex had finished up their clean out of the Impala trunk and had a pile of trash burning nearby. Dean was leaned against the lip of the still-open trunk, whittling a stick he'd found into an unknown shape as his sister stood off a few feet, contemplating the distance unseeingly, deep in her own thoughts with her arms crossed. Sam had gone inside to confess about thirty minutes ago, maybe a little longer. Alex was losing track of time, floating between thoughts and feelings relating to the news Cas had shared with her earlier. She felt like it hadn't hit her yet, or like she'd dreamed it. Pregnant. The word clanged around in her head so many times that she didn't even understand it anymore.
A soft fluttering sound caught her attention and made her turn around, cutting the thoughts short. Cas had appeared, and he looked grim. "Hello," he greeted briefly, appearing harrowed. "Dean, I need your help."
Both Winchesters were surprised. Both at the sudden appearance and the cut to the chase. Alex spoke first, sensing that something big was happening. "What's going on?"
He shook his head slightly, and it was obvious how tense he was. "I don't have much time—Naomi has taken Metatron."
The mention of her made Alex's blood run cold.
"Shit, why?" Dean asked, then immediately figured it out right after he asked. "Wants to stop these Heaven trials?"
"I assume so, yes," Cas said, glancing at Alex briefly with hooded eyes. "Therefore, I—we need to do the trials as quickly as possible." Alex thought he might have asked her for help if one: it wasn't Naomi; and two: she hadn't just found out she was pregnant. "Will you help me, Dean?"
Dean hesitated, eyes sliding to the old church, then to Alex in silent, conflicted consideration. Since spending the year together in Purgatory, the energy between Cas and Dean was markedly different. Dean clearly wanted to help Cas, but also felt like he needed to be here with Sam. So Alex stood a little taller and nodded her head toward Cas. "Go. I'll stay with Sam. Make sure he's okay. Let you know if anything's up." Dean still hesitated. "It's seven or eight more hours," she pointed out. "Long time to sit around in this dump."
Dean sighed out indecisively. "Look, I agree the kid needs a babysitter while doing the heavy lifting—these trials have fucked him all the way up—but you're still pretty banged up from your visit to Crowley's funfest too." He gave his sister a very doubtful look. "You really wanna be alone with the King of Hell and Sam in his condition?"
All valid points, but… "Do we have a choice here?" she countered, then slid her eyes to meet Cas's. Somehow, she felt stronger since seeing him last. Steadier on her feet. There was a brief silence, their eyes communicating more than words could at the moment. She looked back at Dean. "If anything happens, I'll call."
Dean wasn't thrilled, but he rolled with it, seeming to accept it as the best case scenario. "Fine." He pointed at her and it was grimly joking. "You be careful."
Alex grabbed his finger and pushed it away, a move that could be interpreted as playful hopefully. "You be careful. Take care of each other." She looked at Cas again, and he gave her a brave little smile that she returned. Many unspoken things and their secret rested in that anxious, worried smile.
"Tally ho," Dean murmured in gruff cynicism, then Cas put a hand on his shoulder. Then they disappeared altogether.
New worries crept into Alex's mind, things she couldn't do anything about. In the distance, a bird cawed, a distinctly startling and ominous sound, and Alex glanced around the barren landscape quickly, checking for any signs of anything off. Everything looked fine. She shut the trunk of the car, double-checked that the fire was contained, contemplated her next action, and then went inside to tell Sam what was going on. One moment at a time. Keep my focus on what's in front of me. Let's get through today.
The church was small, essentially two little spaces: a slight entryway and a high-ceiling sanctuary. At the top of the sanctuary there was an old built-in confessional. Crowley was in the center of the empty main chamber faced away from the entrance, helplessly chained up to his wooden chair. Sam currently stood close to the entrance at a dilapidated old table. He was fiddling with an empty syringe, his face an unreadable, hard mask. He didn't acknowledge Alex when she entered, either.
"Hey, so Cas and Dean are gonna go—"
"I heard," he interrupted tersely, surprising her with the hardness in his tone. Alex was too caught off guard to reply—he must have eavesdropped either on purpose or accident on the whole exchange. "So I need a babysitter, huh?" He tried to give a little laugh, but it fell flat. He sounded bitter and hurt.
Offhandedly angry that Dean had to say things the way he did but powerless to do anything about it, Alex sighed heavily. "Hey." She touched his arm to make him look at her. When he did, he looked every bit of fifteen years old and about to cry. Alex softened. "He's an idiot, Sam."
Sam looked like he felt no better at all, but before either could say anything else, the rattling sound of chains distracted them. "Oy! OY!" Turned away from them in his chair, Crowley was apparently annoyed with his predicament.
"Speaking of assholes," Sam muttered, then took a deep breath to gather his courage, looking at the empty syringe. "Here goes nothing." He found a vein in his forearm and drew blood, hissing through clenched teeth as he did. He looked sweaty and cold all at the same time, but made no complaints. When the syringe was full, he walked around to face Crowley with Alex staying semi-close, close enough to spot him and help out if something bad happened. Her hand hovered near her angel blade under her jacket as her heart began to beat a little harder. Would this actually work?
The King of Hell had a mix of haughty pride and inconvenienced distaste playing on his features as his dark eyes flitted over the pair in turn. Without words, Sam approached closely, grabbing Crowley by the hair to expose his neck better. Even as he did, Crowley was grumbling a gravelly complaint. "Of all the ridiculous—" he never finished his sentence, instead shouting in pain as the needle plunged deep into his neck. "Aah!"
Sam pressed the plunger end hard, sending his own blood surging into the demon's veins, then pulled the needle out, breathing hard. The hunter and demon stared at each other for a long couple of seconds, and the demon almost appeared to be slightly afraid for the slightest of moments. The room was absolutely quiet. Then Crowley snarled in rage as he yanked at his chains. "Bite me, both of you sodding buffoons! I'll kill you!"
Sam and Alex made brief eye contact as the older of the two sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "This is gonna be a long day," he mumbled, about to start heading back toward the front of the church. And then they both jumped in surprise when his arms began to flare bright, fiery light from within. His face showed shock and even pain, but before either could really freak out, it faded away and his skin was normal again.
"Now that's something you don't see everyday," Crowley commented, trying to sound coy. But he was definitely rattled. And he wasn't the only one. Alex grabbed Sam by the sleeve and pulled him back toward the front of the church where Crowley couldn't see or hear as well.
"Y-you okay?" she asked her brother breathlessly. "What was that?"
He looked just as shaken up as she felt. "Y-yeah, fine," he replied uncertainly, clenching his fists a few times. "Must be part of… of all this." He took it all in for a couple beats more, trying to tough it out, then made eye contact with her and his expression faltered from confusion and pain to something more honest. He was barely audible. "Alex, I'm scared," he admitted in a whisper.
That broke her heart. She was too, but hearing him say that made her even more afraid. She didn't show it though. "C'mere," she said, pulling him into a tight hug, promising what she didn't know for sure at all: "It'll be okay." He felt thinner than he should be, and his breathing pattern wasn't normal either. She was so glad he couldn't see her face. Am I losing you, Sam? How can I do this without you here?
Alex swallowed a heavy lump and shut her eyes for a few seconds before Sam pulled away. His eyes were glittering but he was trying to smile. "Can we… can we just like, I dunno—play chess, or cards, or, or something? Pass the time?" He didn't want to talk about it or theorize or worry themselves more than necessary, and she was fine with that. Smiling through her many emotions for his benefit, she tried to rally. Already nodding, trying to pull her mind away from fears, trying to be brave so he felt less afraid, she said she'd go get stuff out of the car and be right back.
The twins settled into a very quiet pattern of playing cards halfheartedly for awhile, then checkers (they had a travel set in the car) and then each napping in uncomfortable pews intermittently. Alex spent most of the time completely silent, lost in her thoughts and then trying not to think about anything but the present… then realizing she was caught up in more worries. About Sam, about Dean and Cas, about Naomi and Metatron. About… the baby. Even thinking that was weird. Her appetite was as ravenous as ever, but she forced herself to not eat any of the scant supplies in the car so that Sam would have food for later. Hour two came quickly and Sam made another injection. Crowley's reaction was more quiet and subdued this time. He taunted Sam about how it was useless, then lapsed into moody silence, straining at his handcuffs and chains pitifully a few times. He tried getting them to talk to him but they ignored him each time.
The third injection came and went without much fanfare, but this time Alex went to stand in front of Crowley again as Sam finished the injection. The demon gave her a chilling smile. "Isn't this just a fun bit of role reversal, Mouse," he purred. "Last time one of us was tied up and tortured, it was you at my place." He seemed to so enjoy trying to get under her skin. "We have such fun, you and I." Alex almost could have smirked, oddly enough. It was good to see this bastard knocked down a peg or two. And knowing how much the King of Hell enjoyed conversation, she gave him none. She walked past, leaving him where he couldn't see her anymore. "Oy! Rude!" the demon complained.
Sam followed her and stopped her at the church exit. "Hey, you haven't said anything in like two hours," he said quietly so that only they could hear. "You okay?" Classic Sam, worried about someone else when he was totally up shit creek without a paddle. He could tell she wasn't all there, and she knew it.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she hedged, which of course wasn't really true. "Just... worried. About everything."
He rubbed an eye tiredly. "Same here."
That made her think: Caffeine would be nice. "Lemme see if I can rustle us up some coffee," she said, then headed outside. There was some crystallized instant coffee and bottled water in the car. She had to build another little fire and use a shitty metal camping thermos to heat the water in. It took her almost thirty minutes to rig everything up and make the coffee. When it was time, together the siblings sat out on the church steps and Sam tried it first—they only had the one thermos so they had to share it. Sam winced against the terrible taste of instant coffee when he sipped it. "Yikes." He handed it to her.
"Better than nothing," Alex said, her thoughts elsewhere. She took a big sip of the terrible brown water, then made a face. "Ugh. Never mind." It sucked bigtime. They exchanged a smile that was sad and tired. Such was life on the road… terrible food and beverage choices for the most part. A long moment of silence passed with Sam nursing the steaming cup after Alex handed it back over. She was reflecting on many things, but one of the biggest ones: "I wish we got to know Mom."
Sam's eyebrows raised slightly and he looked at her questioningly. "That's… random." He took another sip of the awful coffee, curiously eying his sister. "What's got you thinking about her?" he asked. "Dad being back?"
Alex shrugged her eyebrows briefly. "Yeah," she said, although it was more the fact that she was going to be a mother that had her thinking about her own. However… "And maybe 'cause that's where all this started." 'This' meaning the current problems the Winchesters were attempting to handle that never seemed to end. Hunting, trying to save the world. It all seemed to have started with Mom burning on the ceiling of that nursery.
Sam exhaled soft and quick, which was commentary all on its own. "I think it started before any of us existed," he said, handing over the coffee for Alex to sip. He grew a little more somber. "Hopefully this is where it ends though."
Alex couldn't even fathom that, but she tried. Still, it didn't make a lot of sense, and it left her with more questions than answers. "So if tomorrow we wake up and there's no more Heaven, no more Hell…" she trailed off, trying to envision it. "What happens to us? What do we do?"
Sam stared off into the distance, bothered by the question. "Yeah I don't… I don't know." A silence stretched between the two and Alex sipped at the coffee, praying the caffeine would jog her tired brain. Sam was shaking his head softly, thinking out loud. "Even if we never see another demon again, even if Cas can close Heaven…" he trailed off, his face becoming pained even though he tried to be blank faced. He shook his head and tried to normalize his face and tone. "I just wanna make things right." He finally looked at her, and he looked so old and young at the same time. "Real life's just as scary as all this crap, that's all I know." That, Alex could agree with. And how. She put a hand on her brother's back, patting a little. Sam chuckled a little. "What about you? You can Cas gonna go buy a condo and get nine-to-fives? Have some kids? Start retirement plans?" He seemed amused by the idea.
Alex felt herself sobering at his joke. She knew how to rip off an ATM machine and how to pick a lock. How to fire any gun on the planet. How to knife fight, how to fix a car engine, how to case buildings, how to form a plan of attack, how to survive in the wilderness. But normal people stuff? "I dunno anything about any of that," she said faintly, thinking about the very real reality of now. A child and all that came with: providing, taking on responsibility, giving safety, considering someone besides herself at all times. Her skin prickled with an unpleasant feeling born in anxiety. Is this how Dad felt? In her hand, the coffee was warm and she suddenly remembered that you weren't supposed to have caffeine when pregnant. She set the cup down with a horrified look stuck on her face. "Fuck."
This is why I am going to be terrible at this. Did I hurt him?
Sam was cluing into something going on. "Alex, what's wrong?" She said nothing, and Sam grew more worried, trying to get her to look at him. "I can tell something's on your mind." He touched her arm gently, worry sketched onto his haggard face. "You can tell me."
Her mind was spinning, she felt dizzy. "I'm…" she started out, trying to think of a lie, an excuse, a justification. And when nothing came to mind, when she felt compelled to just say it… and so she did. "I'm pregnant, Sam."
Sam's face. First, he looked like he misheard, then he looked like he didn't know how, then he fumbled for words. "Wh—" He wet his lips, turning toward her even as they sat, like he was trying to get a better look at her. "Pregnant? Like—pregnant." Alex gave him a look and half shrug inspired by her lack of knowing how to cope with the information.
"I just found out," she said, a little blank and not even sure why she had told him now. "Today."
"That's—that's—" Sam cast around for how to address her, then suddenly stopped short. "Are you not happy about it?"
There wasn't judgment in his question, but she judged herself about it. "I… I don't even know," she answered honestly, a tearfulness in her voice. "It's so overwhelming. And right now, too... like..." she trailed off, unable to verbalize. This was all so much.
"Hey, hey," Sam said, scooting a little closer and putting a comforting arm around her. It was just what she'd needed, and she relaxed a little into his side. For a second, they were both quiet. "Does Dean know?"
Alex gave a weak little laugh. "God no. And let's keep it that way for now." She breathed out long and hard. "Just me and Cas know. And, well, you now too. I need to get used to this idea first before I tell anyone else I guess, you know?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed, processing for a minute and smiling a little because he got told first. "Damn," he murmured after a second. "Can't believe this." Words that could be taken many ways… but he sounded proud, emotional, and like he was smiling slightly. Alex pulled away enough to be able to see his face. He looked especially tender in that moment. "Alex... you are gonna be fine," he said in a voice full of emotion and love, his hand squeezing her shoulder still. "And for what it's worth... I think you'll be a great mom." Those words had a bigger impact on her than she could have anticipated, and she felt her face constricting as she tried to stay composed. Coming from him, it meant quite a lot. "No matter what, as long as I can, I'm here for you," he continued, then smiled tenderly. "And… whoever it is you've got on board in there."
She didn't know the words to say to that. So Alex hugged him tight, closing her eyes as a tear squeezed out and fell down her cheek. He was hugging her back with protective arms. Their rocky, roller coaster history flashed through her mind in an instant, making her even more thankful than ever for their bond. In the distance, a soft thunder rumbled. But it was almost soothing this time, not foreboding.
Crowley's next injection went fine, but he went a little glassy-eyed afterward. Strangely he said absolutely nothing and remained silent for the better part of an hour. Then the next one, number five: After the needle came out, he looked at Alex dumbly and his words slurred just slightly. "I miss you, little Winchester," he said, then did a double-take at himself, asking in a more clear voice, "Did I say that out loud?"
At his sixth injection, Crowley bit Sam hard, causing both Winchesters to have to go to the car for bandages and first aid—not before Sam hauled off and punched him in the face though. After he was patched up, Sam took another nap and Alex sat in the Impala with the windows down as the day turned to night. She checked her phone constantly, but heard from no one. Her stomach churned and her appetite raged and she gave in, eating some of their rations. After four granola bars and two entire bags of jerky she still didn't feel anywhere near full.
By the time she went inside, it was time for Crowley's seventh injection. He burst into song after Sam finished. "Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes! Turn and face the strange, ch-ch-changes," he sang in a rough voice in a teasing way. "Ah!" he commented as Alex came into his view. "Nice of you to join us," he purred. "Sam was just squirting all of his hot liquids deep inside of me."
She ignored him, even though the urge to roll her eyes was immense. Sweatier and sicker than ever, Sam looked mildly pained and was holding his forearm, no doubt because that strange light had just burned through him again. Just as Alex was about to suggest food to him in the form of granola bars (before she ate them all) and maybe some jerky, the church began to rumble and shake as if from an earthquake. The Winchesters immediately tensed, crouching slightly. The floor boards began to crack the floors, reaching the demon trap spray painted around Crowley. The crack broke the line, even as Crowley roared in superior rage. "Did you really think you could kidnap the King of Hell and no one was gonna notice, dumb nuts?!"
As if on cue, the door to the dark church flew open that instant, revealing a tall, beautiful woman with red hair. Her neck was stitched crudely where it had been severed. The Winchester twins shrunk back when they saw who it was: Abaddon.
"Hello, boys," she greeted casually, then flicked her eyes to Alex. "And you." She sauntered in a few more steps, her demeanor very confident and ominous. "Don't look so surprised."
A bit confused, Crowley craned his neck, trying to get a look behind himself at her. "Abaddon? They told me you were dead."
"They told you wrong," she replied evenly, eyeing her prey.
"And the rest of the cavalry?" Crowley asked.
Her voice darkened wickedly as she smiled a little. "Oh I wouldn't call me the cavalry, Peaches." Crowley's expression faltered.
Sam picked that second to spring into action, reaching for his gun that was on the altar table, but Abaddon flung a hand out, using telekinetic power to toss Sam across the room. The gun fired but didn't hit anyone—Sam groaned in pain in a heap on the floor while Alex remained frozen with her hands slightly in front of her, gauging her best move and trying, for the moment, to just not get thrown somewhere.
"Brilliant!" Crowley cackled. "Why send in a few grunts when you can send in a Knight? Say your prayers, Moosie and Mouse!"
"You idiot," Abaddon said softly, sauntering over toward where Sam was groaning and trying to push himself up. She turned and looked at Crowley with cruel, glittering eyes. "I'm not here to save you. I'm here to kill you and take your job." Sam got to his knees. Abaddon again waved her hand and Sam flew out of an old stained glass window, shattering it on impact as he flew outside. Alex winched and stayed frozen. Abaddon leaned in toward an astonished Crowley. "Queen suits me, don't you think?" The King of Hell's face twisted in dumbstruck outrage.
Alex seized the opportunity of brief distraction, whipping out her angel blade and rushing the Knight of Hell. Abaddon whirled, throwing a hand up—but to both of their surprise, nothing happened. "What the…?" Abaddon managed, looking at her hand in confusion, before narrowly dodging sideways. Not without getting slashed across the cheek by the blade though. Her hand slapped to her own cheek and she looked enraged, confused as she shrank back from Alex. Again, she tried to use her hand to throw Alex. And again... nothing happened. "How are you doing that?!" Abaddon shrieked. Alex had no idea, but wasn't going to take a break to figure it out. She picked up a duffel bag and threw it at Abaddon to distract, rushing her, and they grappled by hand, exchanging punches and throwing each other against the walls of the church. The angel blade went clattering off, but somehow, Alex found her strength was nearly equal to the demon's. Possibly greater. Catching Abaddon off balance and tripping her, Alex grabbed her by the back of the head and smashed the demon's head straight into the floor, sending splinters flying and creating a hole in the floor. That's where Alex left her, backing off while panting, looking at her own hands in confusion. She shouldn't have been able to do that.
Sitting in his chair, Crowley was dumbfounded right along with her. "What the…"
Screaming in anger and pain, Abaddon pulled her bloody face out of the splintered floor, stumbling up into a standing position as she seethed. A few feet away, Alex—confused about her own strength and worried about the precious cargo she carried—remained stuck in place. And that's when Abaddon was hit with a veil of liquid and gasped, stopping in place. It was Sam, and he held a lit match. He was cut up from flying through the window, but adrenaline was making him sharp and fast. Fearful understanding crossed the knight's face even as Sam growled, "Now stay dead." He threw the match at her and she became engulfed in flame, screaming like a banshee and stumbling around as flames ate her alive. With no choice, she exited her burning vessel in a plume of thick black smoke that surged out of a church window, disappearing from sight completely.
Sam grabbed his sister by the arms—she had sustained a few cuts, a gash, and a couple bad bruises from the fight. "You okay?" He asked breathlessly, confused and worried. "How'd you…?"
Even as he asked that, her wounds began to fade away, then disappeared completely. She saw too, and her eyes widened. Her hand reached up, fingertips testing the skin that had just been bruised. The siblings looked at each other dumbfounded. "What… the hell… was all that?" Crowley asked, and they looked at their spectator in unison. He looked genuinely stumped. Just like they were.
In the corner, Abaddon's vessel burned brightly, threatening to catch the rest of the church on fire. "Put that out, will you?" Alex said to her brother, who grabbed his jacket and began beating the flames. It didn't take much to get the fire out. Alex was worried about that fight and if it had done something to her and she paced a little, trying to calm down, trying to find something to do to make the situation normal again.
"What kind of magical PCP are you on, littlest Winchester?" Crowley pressed. Alex was going to the church doors and slamming them shut, then picking up the spray paint can and drawing another quick ward on the walls. She didn't reply to him. "I'm serious!" he insisted. "How'd you throw that tramp around like that!?"
Alex came to stand in front of him, at her wits end and full of absolute hatred. "None of your goddamn business, now shut up!" She walloped him across the face so hard that his chair teetered, then she walked away with a stony face. It was highly owed from her calculations.
He silently gasped, making faces against the pain. "O-uch." He complained, then of all things, suddenly whimpered as if he might cry. "Y-you saved my life." He looked at them with an odd expression, one neither had seen on his face before. "Both of you. Loyalty… it's not common, is it?" He shook his head, smiling strangely, showing teeth. "Your family. Loyal to the bitter, bloody end." His eyes squinted and at this point he could have been talking to himself. "Am I jealous? I'm jealous." He peered imploringly at Alex, who was handing the spray paint to her brother. "How do I get a Sam? How do I get a Dean? How do I get an Alex?" Sam knelt and began to fix the broken devil's trap. Crowley looked affronted. "Wait. What are you doing?"
"Arts and crafts hour," came the sarcastic answer.
Crowley became indignant. "Are you joking? I just saved your pathetic lives!"
That made the Winchesters pause for a moment and exchange a quick look. "In what world is that what just happened?" Alex asked carefully, looking Crowley over as if she might see his angle. But he just looked deranged.
"This world! This one! We just shared a foxhole," he rambled his voice breaking oddly. "We beat back the Tet Offensive, outrun the—the Rape of Nanking together! And still you're gonna do me like this?!" He looked at Alex pleadingly. "Mouse, we worked together! We were like Bonnie and Clyde! I gave you back Bobby just because! Because I'm so fond of you!" Sam looked confused by that one. Crowley looked like he might cry. "How can you treat me this way?! After all these years!"
"He's losing it," Sam said softly, but Crowley didn't seem to be hearing anything. In fact, his accent seemed to be changing. Even his voice seemed different.
"Band of Brothers? The Pacific? None of this means anything to either you?! All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once?! Girls? You're my Marnie, Moose. A-and Hannah—she just—she needs to be loved. She deserves it. Don't we all—you, me—we deserve to be loved." His voice was suddenly a shout that echoed. "I deserve to be loved!" And then it was a pathetic whisper again. "I just wanna be loved." He shuddered, eyes full of agony. "Is that a crime?"
Alex spoke out of the side of her mouth to Sam. "I think this shit is working. If nothing else, he's high as fuck."
Crowley was looking at his hands, emotionally tormented. "So many lives," he babbled in his accent again. "So many years. I'm… I'm… a terrible person."
"Finally something we can agree on," Alex said wryly.
And suddenly, Crowley snapped out of it, sniffing the air feverishly like a dog on a scent trail with squinted eyes. "Wait a minute, who's pregnant?!"
"Crowley—" Sam warned, stepping fractionally closer with a warning look.
"Oh please, Moose, I know it's not you," Crowley said with an eyeroll. "Unless there's something you're not telling anyone." He had a very uncomfortable Alex under his intense gaze. "When were you going to tell me?" He smiled widely, then was overly animated. "Uncle Crowley loves babies!"
Yeah, probably to eat. Alex gritted her jaw. "That's it," she muttered, and grabbed a rag out of one of the nearby duffels then gagged him harder than was necessary from behind, leaning close to his ear as she exerted control over him—which by the way, was satisfying and cathartic on all levels. "No more biting and no more weird shit about TV shows, huh?" She patted his cheek hard, making him wince anew.
Sam coughed suddenly, doubling over and moaning in pain before spitting onto the floor. Alex hurried to him then felt his forehead. "Sam, you're on fire," she whispered, newly worried. His skin was hot, damp, and he was breathing shallowly. He was getting worse every hour.
"I'm fine," he said, but he clearly wasn't.
"Come on," Alex said and took him by an arm, guiding him toward one of the pews that was in the back of the church. She helped him sit as he panted, wiping at his sweat halfheartedly. Alex went quickly back to the duffel, getting a water bottle and more rags for him to wipe off with.
"Thanks," Sam said feebly when she gave him the water and began to wipe his face and neck for him. He drank the water all in one long swig, then gasped afterward. "This is rough." She sat down beside him, wishing she could do more. It sucked. Sam swallowed thickly, finally telling her what he had been thinking all day: "Al, I... I might not make it past this." He didn't call her Al much, and somehow, the use of it scared her. At the look on her face, he held a hand up slightly. "Don't say it. Just… every injection, I feel worse and worse. I mean... look at me."
Alex didn't know what to say. He did look like he was on death's door. There was a very long span of silence between them, where both of them were deep in their own morbid thoughts. And then Sam finally broke the spell. "You know being here, making confessions earlier…" he found her eyes with his. "There's something I need to tell you." What it was, she didn't know, but he looked deeply afraid and her stomach turned in mild dread. His voice was barely audible. "There's something I've been carrying that I, I just need to ask you to forgive me for. Because after today, I might not have a chance."
This was all sounding too final, and Alex shook her head no. "Sam…"
He cut her off. "Please. I need to." So she hesitated, then nodded apprehensively, deciding for his benefit. Sam wet his lips nervously. "Look. I uh… I know we haven't always seen eye to eye. And I know things are a lot better with us than they have been and I'm really glad for that. Really." He smiled sadly, a conflicted expression. She nodded slightly, but she was unable to manage a smile like he had. He breathed in deeply and looked away from her, gathering courage. "Back when… when Lucifer possessed me." He swallowed, voice growing even weaker. "I had… I had these visions. And then dreams."
He went quiet for a tense few seconds. "What dreams?" Alex gently nudged.
Again, he had to gather courage. "These visions of the future I guess," Sam said brokenly. "He was… he was gonna use us. He was gonna make us do… make me do… things a brother should never…" he stopped, regathering his thoughts and trying to be less vague. "Lucifer showed me the future. Where I… where he—started a new race on earth with, with you and me." Oh. Alex stared at him with a slightly open mouth, taking his meaning perfectly. She had not expected that. "And then it always ended with you burning on the ceiling like mom," Sam confessed in a terrified whisper, tears running out of his eyes onto his face. It was easy to see how much this tore him apart. "I've felt like this sick, disgusting person for so long because of this. It's haunted me as much as Hell has," he admitted, voice tearful and shuddering. "It was him using me to do that, but it just—I can't erase that out of my mind, I can't escape the fear that someday that could still happen." He gave a disgusted sound. "I'm a disease in this family." He was avoiding looking at her this entire time, but finally managed to, even though he looked like he could barely bring himself to. "I don't deserve it, I don't at all, but—please forgive me. Please. I need it, especially if this is it for me."
Alex was wordless for a moment, because her mind was spinning. And not in the way he probably thought. "Sam." She gripped him just above the elbow, trying to convey how serious she was, trying to really get him to look at her. Yes, this was surprising and disturbing to hear, but this was the devil after all, and was he forgetting? She had been possessed by him too. She knew how dark it was in there. "You haven't done anything wrong," she said in quiet vehemence. He looked immediately confused that she wasn't agreeing with his opinion that he was horrible. "What am I supposed to forgive you for?" she asked honestly. "For, for not having any control over the fact that Lucifer picked you as his vessel? For being possessed? For having thoughts put into your mind? For having demon blood forced into your mouth when you were a baby?" He looked as though he had no idea how to take what she was saying. Would he have preferred her to bash him about this? "None of that's on you," she insisted—gentle, but firm, pained on his behalf. Sam obviously didn't agree, in fact, he seemed disappointed or unsure of how to cope with the fact that she wasn't as horrified as he was. But at the end of the day, it wouldn't happen. She knew that. Alex realized that reason and logic wasn't what her brother needed. He needed to hear it from her even if she didn't even hold him accountable. So she reached down and squeezed his hand in hers. "It's forgiven. A thousand times, Sam."
Sam's emotions doubled like the dam had broken inside. "Thank you," he said thickly.
Alex meant it a thousandfold, and it brought tears to her eyes too: "I love you, Sam. No matter what."
And he began to cry, which made her do the same. Alex didn't know what else to do except give him a hug. For a minute or two, younger sister held bigger brother as he sobbed tears he had been holding onto for a long time, and pain that could finally be released. When he quieted again, they pulled apart, both with tear-streaked faces. Sam was obviously exhausted emotionally as well as physically, and from knowing him a lifetime, Alex recognized that he wanted some space before he even said anything. "I—I need to lay down a little while," he said, avoiding her gaze again and wiping his face hard with the heel of his hand. "Get me when it's time for the last round?"
Alex stood up with a sniff and nodded, handing him his jacket from where it was flung over the far end of the pew. "Yeah." He balled it up and used it as a pillow. Alex watched her brother pull out his phone and send a text. From the look on his face, she guessed it was to Molly, the girl she still didn't know a lot about. It made her wonder. Was he telling her goodbye?
She didn't know that she even wanted to let him do the last round. What if this really did kill him? Was his life worth closing the gates of Hell forever?
Biting a nail, Alex contemplated her thoughts darkly. So much happening in one day. She didn't know where to begin with Sam's confession. Lucifer's greatest asset was the ability to manipulate, lie, and instill fear. A lesson she had learned the difficult way. And Lucifer had managed to have a hold on Sam long after he was gone, which was the most tragic part of all. Sam had been plagued with hallucinations of Lucifer for more time than anyone could handle—and spent so many years in Hell. Of course that would damage, hurt, and terrify Sam. To carry that alone for so long—it hurt Alex on Sam's behalf. Honestly she wished he'd told her a long time ago so that she could have helped. Maybe Sam would finally have relief from the pain of carrying those things alone since telling her today. Because now she knew, and half of his fear had clearly been of her reaction to it. By starting today, by telling her his fears and feelings that he had kept secret for years… maybe they could move past it and he could leave his feelings about it in the past.
If he survived these trials…
She moved herself physically to move her thoughts, too, because she couldn't let herself go there with thoughts of Sam dying. Not until it was a real reality would she even consider it. Alex drifted back toward the other end of the church, where Crowley, silent since he was gagged, eyed her balefully. Alex smiled ever so slightly at the role reversal, and settled against the table directly across from him, leaning in what could be called a power stance. She gave him a cool gaze. "Comfy?" He clearly wasn't.
And together they waited in silence for the hour to pass. Crowley went between sleepy blinking and woozy expressions to more cagey, twitchy behaviors with a few strains against the chains for effect. But he mostly seemed resigned and out of it. Alex stewed in her thoughts... an easy default to fall back into for someone who had spent most of her life mute.
When it was ten till, Alex gently awoke Sam and he visibly steeled himself for the final injection. He refused her offers of food and water and instead drew his final vial of blood, then hesitated, syringe in his hand. "If this… if I don't come back from this…" he began. Alex put a hand on his, silently stopping him from continuing down that path. He was shaking and clammy.
"You will." She had to believe that for both of them.
Sam swallowed, nodded, and breathed out hard, fixing his focus onto Crowley, who turned his neck to the side, as if offering himself up for the next injection. Sam slid the needle in, dosing the final portion of his blood into the demon then extracting the needle smoothly. Crowley sighed softly, like he was getting a hit of a drug.
"The book," Sam said, motioning for his sister to hand it over. They traded syringe for book, and Sam read the spell that was recorded on the pages—he was focused, putting one proverbial foot in front of the other. This was the finish line. Alex's heart hammered uneasily as she set down the syringe and she nervously watched him and Crowley closely, for any sign of something bad. "Exorcizamus te, ominus immundus spiritus, hanc animam redintegra lustra." Sam chanted, then threw the book aside and drew his knife then cut himself across the hand. Light began to beam and Sam looked at Alex one last time, who gave him a nod. Sam stood taller and slowly approached Crowley. This was it. The final step.
And then the church doors burst open. "Sammy, stop!"
It was Dean, and he sounded panicked. The twins were taken by surprise. They remained frozen as their big brother hurried in and held his hands out. "Easy there, okay, just take it easy," he coaxed, a few paces off from them. "We got a slight change of plan."
"What do you mean?" Alex asked breathlessly. Something was very wrong.
"What's going on?" Sam echoed, eyes darting around wildly. "Where's Cas?!"
"Metatron lied," Dean said in a forced calm. "You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."
Alex's stomach felt like it dropped out of her and her heart rocketed upward into her throat even as Sam shook his head, a pained expression on his face. He then said the one word that made the church go still. "…So?" Sam looked mildly psychotic at this point as he motioned to Crowley. "Look at him, Dean, look at him!" The demon was in some kind of daze, no idea of what was happening in the room he was in. "Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this!" Sam insisted in a shout.
"Slow down, hang on—" Alex said, getting semi between the brothers with a hand out toward each. Silently telling them both to just hold on a second. "Dean, what's happening?"
Dean looked scared, eyes on Sam. "It was a trick. Metatron, whole time—he's trying to cast all the angels outta Heaven." What?! Alex felt a sudden, increased surge of fear for her angel. Dean took a tiny step toward Sam, a hand still out in a pacifying, persuading way. "Cas is doing what he can upstairs, and I'm here to stop you from doing this."
"Dean, I didn't bleed myself dry for nothing," Sam replied, looking like he could cry. His arms were glowing still, hands too. "I didn't do those trials to quit in the final lap." The word 'quit' was laced with acid.
The oldest Winchester was careful. "It's not over, it's just the pause button," Dean insisted, trying very hard to talk his brother down. "This isn't the only way, Sam—" he reasoned, eyebrows high, emotions becoming less controlled. "Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here and figure out another way." He paused, taking in how bad off, suicidal even, his brother was. Fear softened the oldest Winchester's voice. "But we can't do it without you, man."
Sam looked offended. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, raw with emotions. "You can barely do it with me! I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a babysitter, remember?"
Dean looked guilty. "Come on, man, that's not what I meant."
"No, it's exactly what you meant," Sam retorted, his eyes shining with tears as he pointed back toward the confessional. "You wanna know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was?" He gave a weak little huff that was supposed to be a laugh and he looked at each of his siblings in turn. "It was how many times I let you both down." He shook his head no numerous times, clenching his jaw in emotional agony as his voice wavered. "I'm done doing that. I'm done being that person."
"Sam—"
"No Dean!" Sam began to cry, and Alex had never seen him so broken. "What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, I don't deserve to be trusted, I don't even trust myself." He shuddered miserably, his features twisted with self-loathing and disgust. "All I do is let this family down, I'm selfish, I'm a coward, I deserve to die. I gotta make things right, and this is how I do it."
Dean was absolutely gut-checked. Alex finally found her voice, even though she was near tears herself to hear all this from her brother. "How can you think all that, Sam?" She honestly didn't understand.
He gave her a look that was hurt and insulted at the same time. "You're joking right? Alex, think of all the things I've done... I mean this year I, I fucking left you on your own, I didn't even help you look for Dean, I did what Dad did to us," he stifled a sob weakly, "And I still don't even understand why!" He suppressed another sob, face wrinkling up. "I hate myself." He threw an arm out. "Running off t-to get a dog and a girlfriend—"
Alex's mouth dropped as it suddenly hit home. "What?!" Oh my god. "Wait, wait—whoa—wait." Alex held up a hand. "Sam. Sam." She suddenly understood with a great sinking feeling so much more how Sam could feel the way he felt. She immediately and harshly blamed herself for not realizing he thought that had been real. Her throat closed a little from pain and sorrow. Fuck! With a voice that trembled from intensity, anger almost, she began to set the record straight: "That didn't happen."
Both brothers were visibly thrown. Sam was the one who asked first. "…What?" As if daring to hope.
"...You really don't know?" Alex asked, dumbfounded, looking between both of her brothers who were both obviously fucking clueless. "Neither of you know?" Now she wasn't shocked, she was utterly dismayed. Alex concentrated—she wasn't sure what she thought, but she never understood that Sam and Dean had both believed Sam's hallucinations about that dog and woman named Amelia had actually taken place. "None of that happened, Sam," Alex said urgently, then paused as it crashed over her again... the things they didn't know. The truth they needed to hear. "Bobby wasn't the reason I did the soul deal." Sam was stricken, confused, daring to hope. Alex's expression broke softly. "You were."
Two words that made both brothers even more shocked and silent. Alex wet her lips, not even sure where to start. She didn't bother to hide her emotions or her aghast feelings at their mistaken assumptions. "I'm glad Bobby's back, of course I am, but... I did not deal because of him." There was growing confusion on Dean and Sam's face. "Guys—Dean, the second that you and Cas disappeared into Purgatory, Sam—Sam you went bonkers again. Totally lost it. With, with the—the hallucinations and seizures and no sleep. And for a few days, I tried everything I could think of." Just remembering that nightmare made her near tears again. "But you were dying, Sam." Talking about it took her back to that desperate, wild, determined state of mind. How alone she'd been with no one to ask for a second opinion, no one to figure it out with. "And it was just me. No Bobby, no Dean… no Cas. No one." She swallowed slowly, voice falling to a tight whisper. "Just me."
Sam was hanging onto every word, looking like his heart could break. Alex stood taller like a soldier as she remembered the things she did to get her twin back. "So I did what I had to do to make sure you'd be okay. And I told him to bring back Bobby too. Still can't believe he did." She looked at the King of Hell who just a few feet off was currently useless. "Crowley wouldn't even do the soul deal unless I… unless I worked for him awhile, which is a different story but—he wouldn't fix you until I made good on my end, Sam." She gave a bleak little laugh. "But, he gave me a, deposit, guess you could say. Instead of being in Hell with Lucifer... you thought you had a dog and a girlfriend named Amelia." Sam looked even more dazed, his cheeks shining with tears. Alex gave him the saddest expression, a valiant smile through the harder feelings. She cursed herself for not setting things straight before today. "It wasn't real," she said gently. "It never happened. You didn't leave me. You would never do that."
His expression broke again. A stunned, disoriented silence commenced. Dean looked down, clearly thinking, piecing it together—and Sam was processing too, but he looked especially pained. "You... you sold your soul for me," he surmised in a soft whisper as if he couldn't believe it. "You… worked for Crowley for me? Y-you went to Hell for me?" And then he almost looked angry as his voice regained strength. "Why would you do that!?"
Alex's reply was simple and honest. Immediate. "I'd do it again." Sam's face fell as she continued to clearly, calmly, firmly tell him the truth in rising fervor as the tears began to gather: "I would do it again Sam, in every scenario, every universe, every single last goddamn time!" Their gazes held for a long moment, and neither of their eyes were dry. "Understand?" Sam did, but he looked like he didn't think he deserved it. Alex went a little closer but didn't touch him yet for fear of setting him off in some way. "You have always done the right thing, to the best of your ability, always. You saved this entire godforsaken planet from Lucifer for fuck's sake!" Sam looked desperate to believe her and feel the way she felt about him for himself. Alex's heart went out to him, understanding many things in a new light now. "You're not the monster that you think you are."
Dean made a little sound, drawing both of the twins gazes. Dean was looking at his sister with a soft, strange expression. Something like respect, sadness, pride, humility. "I wanna be mad at you Alex, but… damn if I can't." He tried a smile and a heavy laugh. "So we've all died for each other now, basically." He gathered himself then finally looked at his brother with deep remorse and embarrassment. "Sammy. I—I'm sorry. I—I just—I thought—" he cut himself off and decided not to list any excuses. "Scratch that. Whatever I thought, I was wrong," he said, voice breaking in his feelings of guilt and self-loathing. "God, I was wrong." He pressed his mouth into a thin, humiliated line. "Now I'm the one who needs forgiveness huh."
Sam managed a faint, pained smile. He was holding his arms against himself in discomfort. "Guess none of us is perfect."
"Not in a million years little brother," Dean agreed quietly, and looked between his siblings in turn, deep emotion growing on his features. His voice was soft, strained, but firm all at once. The stakes were still high, and Sam still didn't look sure about stopping the trials. With a deep breath in, the oldest Winchester schooled his expression and gathered himself up despite it all. Dean's gruff voice trembled with emotion, and his heart poured into his words uncensored. "Look. We've lost more than most people can even imagine, then some. We've been through shit no one should even be able to conceive of. And you know what? We're still here, goddammit. We—are still—fucking—here. And that's because of each other. Plain and simple. In more ways than one." He moved in a little more, and all three of them formed a little triangle shape when he did that. "And you know the one thing that keeps me going? The one thing I know I can count on still? This. Us." His voice wavered when he said 'us,' and his eyes were shining now too. "Yeah we're fucked up, we fight, we get it wrong, we do our petty stupid shit. But when all's said and done—this?" He gave them both significant, heartfelt looks. "This is real. You know it is. When nothing else makes sense, this does. Time and time again, over and over." He pointed a finger down to the ground, as if making a point and taking a stand. "The three of us—we're enough. We can face anything, as long as it's together." He looked long and hard at Sam. "Including this." He turned more toward his sickly brother, moving to hold him around the forearm. "No matter what, I need you to know there is nothing, past, present, or future, that I would ever put in front of you—" he looked at his sister briefly. "Either of you!" He swallowed hard and his voice faltered, Alex's eyes spilled over with tears. "Not Heaven, not Hell, not Demons, not Yellow Eyes, not curses or monsters—nothing!" He trembled. "There ain't no me without the two of you." He looked at Sam again and his eyes were shining. "So I'm beggin' you little brother," he said, his heart in his eyes as he banked everything on his final request: "Stay."
He reached a hand out to Sam. Visibly touched, tearful, and emotional, Sam reached back. Alex put her hand in too, and with that, Dean ushered them into a tight group hug. Sam made a tearful sound, gripping into his siblings tightly. "Yeah," he managed huskily, straightening and nodding nodding faintly even through some fear. "Okay. O-okay," he said, agreeing and looking every part a young child in that moment. Alex's hand was on his back, Dean's hand was steadying him by the arm. "How do I stop?"
"Let it go," Dean said, relieved, nodding, breathing out a little more easily.
Sam's expression rippled with pain and fear. "I can't. It's in me Dean." He was squeezing his bloody cut up palm tightly in agony.
Dean pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, already starting to wrap up the cut. "Hey, listen," he said in a comforting, calm tone, smiling to try and rally his brother as he addressed the cut. "We'll figure this out. Just like we always do, right? Let it go, okay? Let it go." He gave a little heartening chuckle. "This is just gonna be history in a couple weeks. Mark my words."
"Hey, hey look—" Sam exclaimed in a suddenly relieved voice. He pulled back, showing them his arms, which were beginning to look normal again, the light fading.
"See?" Dean said with an encouraging smile. "All good."
The tightness in Alex's chest was fading as her face softened into a smile. Sam was smiling too, a hopeful growing spark of life on his face.
And then everything shattered as he shouted in pain and doubled over, falling over onto the floor.
The next moment was a blur of Dean and Alex trying to help Sam, who was in pain and could barely speak, convulsing, clutching at himself and screaming in pain. "Hospital, hospital!" Dean yelled, and they half dragged, half carried their brother out to the car even as both Dean and Alex tried to call Cas, who didn't come. And then, as they got to the Impala, they stopped, with Sam collapsing against the car as Dean stared at the sky in horror. "Oh no. No, no—!"
Alex followed his gaze, and her stomach plummeted. The dark night sky was streaked with hundreds—thousands?—of little meteors. What might have been beautiful if she hadn't understood that very major things were happening in Heaven only served to terrify her. "What is that?" she breathed in horror, still hanging on tight to Sam, crouched beside him.
"The angels—" Dean breathed, aghast. "They're falling."
No. Alex's heart felt like it stopped. Was Cas one of them? Had Metatron hurt him? Had Naomi?
"I gotta get Crowley and move," Dean said, jumping up and running back into the church.
The twins were left to stare in alarm upwards, and Sam gasped, groaned, "Alex, uhh!—I'm dying—" he croaked.
Alex cupped his face with a hand, pressing his cheek against hers even as she stared upward. The world was ending. They were all going to die. "No, no no, you're okay, shhh, shh," she said, holding him tight so he could believe it. Sam's groan of pain turned into a scream. "Dean, we have to go, NOW!" she shrieked, even as he reappeared carrying Crowley awkwardly, hurrying as best he could.
"Trunk, trunk!" Dean yelled, and Alex sprang up, opening the trunk for him fast before rushing and trying to get Sam up as Dean dumped Crowley into the trunk.
Dean was there with her a couple seconds later, helping hoist a deadweight Sam into the backseat. Not an easy feat, even for both of them. "Let's go, go!" Dean yelled the second Sam was wedged inside. He was barely conscious at this point. Alex began to get into the backseat too so that she could be beside her twin on the ride—but for a fraction of a second before she jumped in, she looked at the streaked sky above.
In her heart, she was afraid for Castiel, beyond afraid. But somehow, she knew on some level he wasn't dead. They hadn't come this far and lost each other this many times to lose each other again now.
And with that thought, she crammed herself into the car and slammed the door behind herself as the wheels squealed, sending the car jetting off into the night.
Meanwhile
Hell
Deep within the blistering darkness of Hades, Abaddon let forth a shriek of absolute rage as she prowled the depths, a mere mass of smoky energy and evil that needed a host.
The Winchesters, all of them, would pay. Henry Winchester had trifled with her and paid the price, and now it was time for his grandchildren to do the same. They were even worse than their grandfather, and she would have the kind of revenge the likes of which had never been seen before, she would peel them apart from the inside out, torture them for eons, cut them into pieces of pieces. But first... she needed a body. She prowled through another prison block of endless damned souls, none of them of interest, none of them worthy.
And then… she stopped, her senses heightening. Inside the cell in front of her, a woman who was beaten, bloody, and broken. The woman sat on the floor of the cell with a listless stare at the floor, her matted long blonde hair falling across tattooed shoulders. She was marked supernaturally, instantly recognizable. Abaddon was suddenly thrilled. Ohh, I know who YOU are…
Sensing the presence near herself, the woman in the cell looked up and through the bars and saw the cloud of smoke there—her pretty features showed confusion and then slight fear. She was already moving to get up and shrink away, but that was a useless move, because Abaddon had already made her choice and was rushing into the cell then down the throat of Jamie Ward, taking the witch's body for her own.
Suddenly sitting taller, appearing more calm, sly, and pleased, Jamie stood up, breathing in deeply as if for the first time—then she gave a satisfied sigh out, testing out her new body, running hands across herself and leaning her neck side to side, stretching. Her eyes glittered, an eyebrow cocked up. "Hello, kitty cat," she murmured to herself, then held a hand up toward the prison cell door. It went shattering backwards, and she gave a little chuckle then looked at her fingernails, which were polished and red now. Her lips would match, too—it was Abaddon's signature after all. Excellent. What a nice little twist. She'd heard of this witch and how Dean Winchester was apparently a puddle of stupid over her. And now she had all of Jamie's memories and knowledge—whew, was there some interesting stuff in here. Abaddon sashayed out of the cell, her heeled boots clicking and echoing as she took her time walking the length of this particular hallway. Her future dominion.
She thought about her to-do list. Get out of Hell, take this sweet little vessel for a joyride, then kill all the Winchesters, starting with Dean because that little bitch had sawed off her last head. But she wouldn't kill him before playing with him a little bit, obviously—this vessel would make that all too easy. And of course, the final plan was to be Queen of this dump. Oh, the renovations she'd put in place…
"Help me! Help! Please, oh god!" A prisoner begged somewhere to her left. Abaddon raised her hand and then closed her fist tight, not breaking stride or bothering to take her eyes off the space in front of herself. Inhuman screams of pain ripped through the air as her fist clenched.
The self-proclaimed Queen smiled to herself, chuckling in the deepest parts of her throat at the sound. "This is gonna be fun."