Song Remains the Same

Chapter 135 / No Place Like Home

"Lies require commitment."
- Veronica Roth

Six Days Later
Samaritan House Catholic Homeless Shelter
Denver, Colorado

He had given his name upon arrival to the shelter as 'Clarence Winchester.'

The first name was thanks to Meg's repeated attempts at nicknaming him that over the years. It had stuck, he supposed.

And the last name… well, that was for obvious reasons.

For the last six days, Castiel had found himself in an entirely new world despite already having been on earth for quite some time. He had been required to do things he never had before: Hitching rides from Longmont to Denver, begging on the streets for food and money—all while dealing with relentless hunger, the need for sleep, a sunburn, and bodily functions he never even considered before (like sweating, itchiness, sluggishness, sore muscles, a headache, thirst, and hurting, blistered feet). There was also having to urinate and otherwise in alleyways and in secluded areas of parks. It all felt very wrong and shameful. He'd slept under a bridge one night with a growling, aching stomach—then been woken and robbed at gunpoint for the nine crumpled dollar bills he'd been given earlier by a kind passerby. His wedding band would have been taken too if it hadn't been for Cas slipping it off to pocket it earlier in the day—that was thanks to some advice from another homeless person. But all that was taken was the money. He was beaten afterward, nothing terrible, but it was humiliating. Terrifying. To have been so full of power and strength then suddenly find himself mortal and unsure of how to defend himself against someone with a firearm. It knocked him off his balance, it made him want to weep. Nowhere felt safe, and he didn't know himself anymore. He had never wanted Alex so badly as he did then.

He had spent the rest of that particular night awake, hurting from the places he'd been beaten and kicked, weakened from lack of food. As he wandered the streets, he stopped at one point to look upward to the starry sky as tears swam in his eyes. He spoke to Alex aloud—a mirror of the way she used to pray to him. He knew she wouldn't hear him. But it comforted him somehow. He did not sleep again that night, even though fatigue made him feel physically sick and disoriented. When the sun rose, he curled up on a bench at a public park—hoping that people being around and the world being brightly lit would keep him safer as he slept. A police officer woke him up not long after and shooed him away, offering no help, only more feelings of despair and being unwanted and incompatible. Everything seemed dangerous now. Unwelcoming. Hostile.

On day three of sleeping on the streets and trying to beg enough money to get a bus ticket to Kansas, a compassionate young woman who introduced herself as Kumi spotted him and bought him a big, warm bagged meal then offered to take him to a program she knew of. Cas was afraid to go anywhere with a stranger, but something in his instincts told him he could trust her. That, and he was weak, filthy, unkempt, and in pain from both the car crash injuries and the beating… it left him desperate and at the end of his wits, willing to take a risk. Thankfully it turned out well.

The young woman took him to a Catholic church led group called the Samaritan House on the outskirts of Denver, and there Cas had been welcomed by kind staff to his utter relief and gratitude. They had given him clothes, meager basic supplies like toothpaste, soap, a comb—and he was graciously admitted into the dormitories to work their homelessness halfway house program. There, he had a clean and comfortable bottom bunk bed, access to bathrooms and showers and laundry facilities, and daily work opportunities funded by church outreach. He kept to himself when he was not working. The other residents of the facility were a mixed bag—many seemed to come and go—and Cas could tell that all of them seemed to think he was odd. And could he disagree?

Even when he was at the much safer feeling Samaritan House, it was still very frightening, stressful, debasing—and lonely. His ailments were made worse by the rampant anxiety of not being able to get in contact with Alex or Dean. Had Ezekiel healed Sam? Were they all waiting for him at the Bunker? Was Alex all right? He knew that she would be worried about him, and he was worried about her too. It was a truly terrible feeling now knowing. Not being able to be with them right away.

Every passing day created more anxiety in the pit of the fallen angel's stomach. Alex's number had stopped working after he last spoke to her at the hospital, leaving Cas in the dark and worried about what had happened. All he knew was that he needed to get home—to the ones who needed him. Because he needed them, too.

He got up early every day, each time noticing how his facial hair got thicker and thicker. He didn't know how to make it go away, and his hair fell differently too. He didn't look like himself—certainly not in the misfitting jeans and secondhand shirts provided by the church. But no matter the strange feelings of identity crisis and not recognizing himself, Cas kept his mind on his mission and held Alex's face in his mind as his anchor. He worked as hard and long every day as possible so that he could to get enough money for that bus ticket. At Samaritan House, residents earned small amounts by completing a variety of jobs around the church and halfway house campus. Religious imagery and statues including angels dotted the place, which was an irony that left Castiel with a brief pause every time he saw the grand angel at the entrance of the building. Genderless, the stone angel looked down with a mixture of tranquility and blankness at all who entered. Sometimes, it almost felt as though the angel was mocking him.

That specific sixth day since the fall of the angels, Cas was at work trimming hedges in the back of the adjacent church courtyard. It was a small area meant for reflecting, prayer, and quiet. A small fountain burbled in the center of neatly laid gray stone groundwork, and a grassy area that gave way to a cemetery and green space beyond was at his back. Some of the jobs the church gave confused Castiel—he hadn't ever mopped a floor before, for example, and one of the program directors had looked at him very oddly indeed when he squirted hand soap onto the floor and rubbed it around uncertainly with the mop. Quickly, Castiel had realized that was not the correct way to do it. Since, he had learned how to do it properly.

This, however—gently tending to greenery—he knew how to do this. It soothed him, the quiet connection to plants and nature, the mindfulness required in the task. So engrossed in the shining little leaves and how they reflected sunlight, Cas was not thinking about what was behind him, or the fact that anyone could walk around the church from the front and find him back in this area working alone. So when mid-snap of the pruning shears he suddenly and keenly sensed someone behind him, he froze. Because his senses said it was not just anyone. It was unmistakable. But he didn't want to dare to hope. However, he almost dropped the shears from how quickly he turned to see the approacher, and his heart had already flown up into his throat, anticipating.

Converse-clad feet were coming to a halt a few paces off. Cas's anxious eyes couldn't travel fast enough up jeans, a band t-shirt and a lightweight cargo green jacket… before they landed on the one face in the entirety of creation that he needed to see. Alex! He was instantly overcome. A flood of indescribable relief crashed over him like a wave in the ocean, leaving him stricken with both tears and absolute joy. She looked at him in the way that he looked at her, a smile on her face through wretched hope and relief. The pruning shears dropped out of Cas's hand even as he was rushing forward and she was too. They slammed into a tight embrace, faces buried in the side of each other's necks, arms locked around each other like they would never let go. Cas cried and laughed at the same time, his every sense celebrating. He heard her laughing and crying too, and he shut his eyes for a moment, so thankful that he wept beyond control for a few seconds. Was this what having a prayer answered felt like? Thank you, thank you, his spirit cried out.

Struggling to compose himself at least a little bit, Cas pulled back enough to take her face in his hands, needing to look into her familiar hazel eyes. They burned brightly into his, and he exhaled softly, helplessly, yet again overcome. "You're here," he managed hoarsely, feeling hot tears spilling down his face even while he smiled from his soul itself. She nodded, wavering between tearfulness and elation, similarly overpowered. And Cas had so very much to say, but all he could say in a choked voice was, "I'm so glad you're here," as he hugged her again, shuddering his relief out.

"Me too," she whispered back, cradling his head with her hands as they embraced, an action that made Castiel feel safe and loved, protected. After a few seconds, Alex pulled back to inspect him better. Her expression wavered with concern as she took in his appearance more closely. "You okay?"

In that moment, he might as well have been invincible. "I am now," he said, thinking nothing of himself as he studied her rapidly, trying to assess her condition. He blinked through the watery aftermath of his emotions. "Are you?"

Faintly, she nodded yes, reaching up to brush her thumb against the still-healing scratches on his upper cheek, the bruise under his eye. No doubt she saw the way his skin was peeling from the sunburn that was mostly faded now too. "What happened?" she asked, deeply concerned.

His energy dipped into ashamed territory. Cas thought about the car accident. The robbery. The days on the streets. The feeling of being alone and scared came back easily. "Things… are very different without my Grace," he admitted quietly.

Alex seemed to understand enough of what he meant, even if he wasn't specific. It made her sadder, it hurt her to see him hurt. "Oh Cas," she said, somehow saying everything about how grieved that made her without more than those two words. She hugged him once again, and even though she was physically smaller than him, she felt strong and comforting, capable of keeping him safe. Cas clung to that, feeling his still-racing heart beginning to calm in the shelter of her embrace. "Ezekiel said the other angels are all gunning for you," she said softly into the front of his shoulder. "I've been so worried." Her arms tightened a little.

Cas closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself to hold and be held. He cupped a hand at the back of Alex's head, cherishing every little part of this—the texture of her familiar hair against his fingers, the warmth of her shape, the familiar scent of shampoo and pheromones that were all hers. He had dreamed of holding her again, of seeing her again, of their reunion. But dreams hadn't even come close to reality.

"I've been worried too," he murmured, another wave of intense gratitude washing over. There was so much he wanted to know, but at the forefront of his thoughts was his own failure. "I'm sorry for my slowness—I've, I've been trying to make my way home but… it's so much harder than I thought." His throat caught as his feelings of ineptitude and frustration welled inside. Alex heard that and drew back, loving worry etched on her familiar and beautiful features. She wiped away his tears carefully with her thumb. "A bus ticket from here to Lawrence is eighty dollars," Cas continued, downcast, hoping she understood. "…I only have thirty-six so far." He searched her eyes, wanting to know how she managed life here so easily and he could not. "It's so difficult to live like this." Alex was sympathetic and understanding, and Cas looked into her eyes with utter vulnerability making his voice waver. He needed her to know everything. "Not being able to talk to you has been so terrible and frightening."

She nodded agreement immediately, eyes a little shinier than they had been a minute ago. "I know," she whispered. And she gave him a small, brave smile, taking him by his scruffy face tenderly, letting her thumbs brush soothingly across his skin and beard alike. "Sorry it took me so long, but I'm here now. And we're gonna go home." She paused, then her smile took on a knowing light as she said something that made his heart surge. "All three of us." The feelings he felt when she said that. Love, so fierce and unending, surged inside of him wildly. And despite the overwhelming emotions, what he felt most was joy. Hope. He was home, and he could have wept to realize it all over again as he was. Both of the same mind, the distance closed and a brief, emotional kiss said everything words couldn't.

They exchanged a soft look as they came apart, and Alex took his hand. "Let's get outta here."

But they hadn't even taken five steps before three persons suddenly stepped out of where they had been concealed behind one of the walls of the church. They stood in a way that was clearly meant to send a threatening message. "Castiel!" The middle one proclaimed, and a silver angel's blade shot down into her hand. "Payment is due for the sins you have committed!" The other two flicked their wrists as well, blades sliding into their grips. All three charged.

A flurry broke out. Knowing Cas was injured and Graceless, Alex dashed out in front of him, her mind formulating a plan within the span of seconds. Calculating precisely and ducking at the last second, she threw the leader of the charge over her back in a feat of superhuman strength. That angel tucked and rolled, already finding their footing again and engaging with Cas, who luckily had his blade and already had it out. While he may not have known how to defend himself against a gunman, he was a skilled swordsman, which is why three had approached him, not one or two.

Even as Alex grappled with the second angel, the third one used that as distraction to their advantage, trying to slash at Alex from behind. Sensing the move at the last second, Alex dodged but still got grazed across the side of her shoulder. Even as a sound of pain tore out of her mouth, she used momentum in her favor and grabbed the arm of the attacker behind her and with a practiced squat, yank, and slam, she threw him over her shoulder brutally hard, colliding him with the other angel—somehow, her cheek got scraped by the tip of the angel's blade, leaving a red streak behind. For the precious couple of seconds the angels were in a heap, Alex seized her angel blade out from under her jacket and made the kills with brutal quickness. White light flared in turn as each angel screamed in turn then went limp.

Breathless, Alex didn't take long to look at the two slain angels—she quickly looked for Cas. He was about ten feet away, similarly out of breath and looking at her in close to horror, holding a new bloody gash on the side of his arm. At his feet, his opponent was dead.

"…What's happening to you?" he asked tightly, eyes on her shoulder injury then her cheek cut… which were both closing up as he watched. "How are you doing that?"

Alex looked around rapidly, then moved forward and grabbed his hand, already pulling him along with her. "Let's have this conversation somewhere else."

The tawny 1980 Oldsmobile Cutlass sedan Alex had stolen from the hospital streaked down the highway, heading out of Denver eastward. Alex glanced in the rear view mirrors a few times, assessing if they had been followed or not. "Are those the only rogue angels you've seen?" she asked.

In the passenger seat, Cas still held his hurt arm with a bloody hand, his expression tense with physical discomfort. "No, another one attacked me right after I got off the phone with you last. She was attempting to kidnap me, essentially—to take me to the other angels, she said." At Alex's stunned, worried look, he grudgingly admitted: "I killed her." He fell into a brief, troubled silence. "How did they find me? Hael seemed like coincidental encounter. But I wouldn't know. I haven't heard any angel radio since… since Metatron."

Alex cursed herself for not realizing what made perfect sense: "Fuck—they must've followed me." She had been dealing with sleep deprivation, Hell nightmares, vast anxiety, a huge nonstop appetite, raging hormones, and constant vomiting the past six days so she hadn't been exactly doing the best. She'd checked her tail of course, it was ingrained—but now… she knew she should have been much more vigilant. She shook her head at herself, disparaging. "I'm off my game." And Cas had gotten hurt because of it. "Is your arm cut too deep?" she asked, trying to get a look at it in between glances at the road. Seeing him injured was agonizing.

Cas glanced at the injury tiredly. "I'll be all right." He sounded absolutely exhausted.

Alex needed to put a few more miles between them and that church before they pulled over, so she urged the car to go faster, harrowed by her thoughts. "My phone broke right after we talked, I'm sure you tried to call right?" She gave him an apologetic look, wishing she had found him sooner, blaming herself.

"Well yes, of course I did," Cas said, but it wasn't spiteful. It was sweet. Warmed, Alex sent him a sad little smile. He looked shaggy, mismatched, uncomfortable, banged up, a little sunburned. His appearance was testament to how rough the past days had been. And it hurt Alex's heart. She had spent this time afraid for him, and her fears hadn't been in vain. But at least they were together again. She swore she was never letting him out of her sight again. "How did you find me…?" Cas asked, a curious look on his face.

She sighed wearily. Too slowly, for starters. "Started in Longmont—a lot of asking around and following leads, and then, well." Alex smiled to herself, softening as her eyes stayed on the road. "A certain last name you've been using."

Cas hesitated. "Oh. Yes, well, I couldn't think of a different one off the top of my head."

Giving him a briefly thoughtful look, Alex wondered why he sounded faintly apologetic. "Don't see why you'd need to think of a different one…" she said, feeling something in her stir deeply when she told him this next part. "Winchester's your last name." She paused. "If you want it, I mean." Their eyes met and held briefly, softly. It made sense, after all.

Cas's face showed deeply touched sentiment and pleasant surprise. "I'd… like that very much," he murmured, his voice fractionally more husky than it had been before. His soft smile wasn't long lived though—his eyes dropped to the slash in the arm of her jacket and the perfectly fine skin beneath it. "But what's going on with you, Alex?" he asked. "How were you able to heal yourself like you did?"

She shook her head and let out a scant exhale to steel herself for this topic. Her eyes went back and forth on the road ahead. "I didn't do anything, it just… keeps happening." She hesitated, wondering if this were the time to share everything she'd learned. She began carefully. "It's some sort of side-effect of a Nephilim pregnancy. That's what Ezekiel said, anyway." Her expression grew more clouded. "He said I'll be stronger, faster, injuries won't last…" she trailed off, dwelling on the other thing Ezekiel had shared.

Cas picked up on her troubled emotions immediately. "What is it?"

She dug her fingers into the steering wheel, trying to release some pent up energy. "Maybe I should tell you later," she said uncertainly. This detail plagued her thoughts, and she somehow wanted to spare him from it no matter how unrealistic that was.

He didn't hesitate to respond to her because he had keyed in on how significant it was. "Tell me now. Please."

Alex contemplated tensely, knowing she couldn't keep it to herself forever or deny it out of existence. So she glanced over reluctantly and steeled herself, knowing Cas would blame himself for this and then quickly join her in deep fear about what should be joyful. "He… he told me when it's time to give birth… that my body will think it's lost an essential organ." Cas's expression softened into faint horror as he seemed to realize where this was going. "And that I'll die unless an angel's there to heal me from delivery." Saying it out loud after only thinking about it privately caused a lump of fear in her throat.

"What?" Cas asked, devastated and visibly reeling as he processed the information. Blank, he blinked a couple of times. "I… I never knew this."

There was one more detail. "He… also said it won't be nine months," Alex added quietly. "Seemed unsure how long but… said it'd be shorter." Which was an added stress to an already alarming situation.

Cas stared through the windshield unseeingly, vaguely sickened. "Of all the times for me to lose my abilities…" he muttered, the contempt for himself and the utter helpless terror easy to hear.

"Well if they can be lost, maybe they can be regained," Alex reasoned, trying to keep hope alive for them both—she'd been thinking about that all week. There was another thing she'd been thinking about too: "We have enough time to find an ally angel too I bet." Ezekiel had been an example for her that all fallen angels weren't full of revenge bloodlust, so she clung to the hope that another one might be able to help them through this unexpected hurdle. She shook off the dark line of thought grimly. She didn't feel like they had enough information yet to start jumping to doomsday conclusions, and quite frankly couldn't afford a freakout at the moment. "Anyway." She breathed out hard, thinking back to a week ago. "I'll tell you one thing, the super strength and auto-healing came in pretty handy when Abaddon showed up in the middle of the demon trials…"

"Abaddon!" Cas exclaimed in soft dismay. "What happened to her?"

Alex had to smile a little to herself. "Went up in flames." She glanced into the rear view once more. "Maybe that's the last we've seen of that bitch."

Cas fell into a beat or two of thought again. "Well at the very least, Naomi is dead," he told her softly, causing vast relief. "Metatron killed her," he admitted ruefully. "I'm only sorry it wasn't me." Alex nodded ever so lightly, understanding exactly why. But as long as that evil bitch was gone… she was okay with it. "Where is Crowley now?"

The answer to that made Alex give a soft humorless laugh. "Locked in the Bunker somewhere and apparently addicted to human blood." It was an odd decision to keep him around, but killing him outright apparently didn't appeal to Dean, who thought the King of Hell could be useful. Currently, the Hell trials were on hold. "I've talked to Dean a few times since hitting the road to find you. He said he's been stealing from blood banks to keep Crowley afloat for now until we figure out what to do next." She shook her head, unamused. "So ridiculous."

Cas looked at her with worry and care. "And how is Sam doing?" he asked. "Ezekiel must have helped."

Remembering how close it came, Alex swallowed thickly. She hadn't seen Sam since he was laying brain-dead in a hospital bed, but she'd spoken with him at least. "Yeah, Sam's fine." But it still traumatized her to think back to what she'd gone through at his bedside. "Ezekiel healed him then left." She couldn't wait to see her twin and hug him hard. In fact, if she thought about it too much, she felt like she might cry.

Reassured, Cas smiled, able to relax slightly. "I'm glad there's some good news to be had. I've been very worried about Sam this whole time." He paused, growing contemplative. "I wish Ezekiel hadn't left. But if there are a handful of angels out there who might not want my blood… perhaps you're right. We can find an ally. And…" he was very somber, "a way to thwart what he said would happen to you."

Alex agreed. It was their best shot. "They can't all want your head."

Cas deliberated, and it was with a despondent note that he replied. "The majority does. And can I blame them?" He looked down at his cut arm which he still held a hand over. "All of this over trying to do the right thing," he reflected in a disheartened way. "I'm very bad at it, Alex. And you know how much so." The hurt in his voice was hard to hear. Alex looked at him as long as she safely could, wishing she could take that pain from him. "It's difficult. Free will. Feelings. The more I have of them, the more complicated it all becomes…"

Reaching over across the short distance, Alex touched his leg just above the knee, giving an encouraging gentle squeeze. "Learning how to be alive is really painful. Humans get a childhood. You got… well, you got something different."

Cas looked at her with all the forlorn but hopeful emotion he contained, and still holding a bloody hand to his injury, he reached over semi-awkwardly with the hand of his injured arm to hold onto hers where it rested against his leg. "And now this."

She understood the fear in his voice. "And now this," she echoed, but she meant it differently, turning her hand palm up to lace her fingers into his. Somehow, she hadn't spiraled into defeat over the dire odds and everything Ezekiel had said. Something in her just wouldn't let her. "We'll figure it out." She squeezed, trying to convey the love she had for him, the hope she could still hold for the future. "Like we always do."

Cas was affected, his eyes soft and bright. He studied her for a moment, warm and affectionate. "Your ability to believe in the ones you love never ceases to amaze me."

Alex glanced at him ruefully. She could certainly remember times when she'd let her brothers down, especially Sam. But that was a different conversation. "You weren't supposed to do any of what you did," she pointed out, circling back to his comments about the difficulty of free will. "Making your own choices. Rebelling. Fighting back against things you started to see as wrong." She paused significantly, growing a shade almost bashful. "Loving me." He was the one who squeezed her hand now. Alex gave him a bittersweet little smile. "Did you really think switching tracks like you have would be a smooth ride?"

With a deep breath in, Cas mulled that over. "I suppose you're right."

Alex had to pull her hand away to put it back on the wheel but gave a soft squeeze before she did so. Her mind turned to another piece of news she needed to share and she hesitated. Thinking about it sent a twinge of pain through her chest. She tried to sound like it didn't phase her, like she was just delivering an update. "One more thing. Dad's gone. Dean said he woke up and left at some point when we were gone doing the last trial. Didn't leave a note, hasn't called…"

She should have known Cas wouldn't buy the act. "I'm sorry. I know that must hurt you."

His insight meant a lot to her. Anger used to be her dominant feeling where Dad was concerned. Now, all Alex felt was a strange hollow loss. A confusion. The question 'why?' all over again. Some things she might never understand or have closure on, and she had to come to terms with that. "Guess it's what he's best at," she murmured, her mind very far away indeed.

There was a brief silence, and Cas obviously turned his thoughts to Hell from his next question. "Are you still having the nightmares?" It was a careful question.

Alex became uncomfortable. "Yeah."

She could hear the expression on his face without seeing it. "I'm so sorry."

Alex tried to brush it off, but she only sounded sad to herself. "I'm dealing."

There was another brief silence, then Cas's quiet confession struck Alex with lightning. "I've been having nightmares too."

Her stomach plunged. "Oh Cas—" she said, looking at him in pure shock. "I… I didn't even think about that." He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at nothing, gaze toward the floor. It was her turn to be careful and quiet. What would an angel, fallen or not, have nightmares about? "What are they about?"

It was obvious he didn't want to say. But he did anyway. "Being lost. Being alone." His jaw worked and his eyes raised to look directly in front of himself. "You dying." His volume lowered further. "Our… our child dying." That one clenched Alex's heart and made her feel so much. Cas frowned in pained confusion. "I know dreams can be internal fears manifesting as series of thoughts, images, and emotions during the sleep cycle. But… they feel so real sometimes." Cas shook his head solemnly, visibly distancing himself from discussing his nightmares any longer. "I forgot how strange sleeping is." He finally looked at her again, and there was a note of grief mixed with the most innocent longing there. "But stranger still. Every night when I fell asleep, it was without you."

A simple sentence that squeezed her heart with so much emotion. Her eyes stung at how it made her feel. She understood—oh how she understood. But: "Not tonight," she promised softly, and the smile shared between them was sad and brave at the same time. They understood each other's pain and nightmares, they shared the same fears. Together again, they could face those things together. Alex put the turn signal on and began to merge off the highway. "But first—supply run. We need some stuff. Well, you need some stuff."

After Alex made sure they weren't being followed, they parked. Then, she tied a makeshift bandage of a ripped up flannel shirt over Cas's bleeding arm and they went into a big chain store called Hal-Mart. All sorts of products and food items were inside, from groceries to dry goods to clothing to household supplies and furniture. With Cas close at her side and very intrigued by all the items available, Alex got him jeans that fit, neutral colored v-neck shirts, some flannels, a beige zip up hoodie, a cargo jacket, sturdy shoes, boxer briefs, socks, a variety of hygiene items, buffalo plaid pajama pants, an electric shaver (when he complained about his beard itching all the time), a prepaid cellphone, and a duffel bag of his own to carry everything in. She also picked up a first aid kit, over the counter pain reliever, a bunch of packaged foods, some candy, pre-made subs from the deli, and instant macaroni and cheese. She began eating some poptarts straight out of the box before they'd even purchased everything, ravenously hungry as was her norm now. While in the section with the first aid kit, Cas found prenatal vitamins and showed them to Alex, who looked surprised, then like huh, maybe I do need those. Somewhere between the deli and the medicine aisles, Cas became distracted by the toy aisle, studiously examining some of the colorful items there with intense curiosity and confusion. While Alex was a little antsy after the attack at the church, she oscillated between watching him fondly and throwing a lot of watchful, paranoid glances around.

After shopping, they found a local motel and checked in. Alex immediately warded the walls against angels and demons with a marker, and Cas helped the best he could. After, they peeled off Cas's shirt and took a thorough look at his gimp arm. It definitely did need stitches. Alex did it as quickly as possible: first the cleaning and disinfecting, then the agonizing work of stitches. Cas was very brave, but couldn't hold back the continued sounds of pain and reactionary tears to the sensation. When it was done, Alex bound it up really well with some waterproof wound tape and gave him some pain relievers. Alex ruffled his hair after and told him he needed to get a shower—that it'd make him feel a lot better. He meekly requested she join him, remembering the time she had done exactly that after he pulled her out of Hell. And of course she agreed.

For awhile they embraced under the warm running water, finally able to be close to each other and relax into the feelings of safety it brought, the comfort they both needed so much. Alex peppered Cas slow and sweet with chaste little kisses, near his injuries and bruises and otherwise. The way Cas sought to kiss her mouth after that was so gentle, lingering, and intentional. Taking their time, they washed each other's hair, and Alex critiqued Cas's soaping technique at his request—which was very thorough and made her chuckle. If sometime years ago someone had told Alex that someday she would be doing such a thing with a man, it might have made her scoff—she would have viewed that scenario as cringy and uncomfortable. But none of it was strange in the least to Alex. This was them. There was no pretense or guard, no image to maintain. Only experiences to share.

After the shower they dried off and dressed, Cas getting to try on pajama pants for the first time. He was amazed, asking why anyone would ever wear anything else if these very comfortable pants were an option. That earned him a smile and a kiss. Alex put on a pair of his new boxer briefs and wore one of his new shirts too—which was when Cas first learned he liked when Alex wore his clothing. He asked about how to shave his beard. At the bathroom mirror with her hair wrapped up in a towel, Alex showed Cas the electric razor and demonstrated on one of his cheeks. Their eyes met a lot, the gratitude to be together was palpable—neither one lost an opportunity for a sweet touch, a lingering look, an appreciative nuzzle, a soft kiss, a brief rest against each other. After toweling her hair off roughly and leaving it to dry wild as usual, Alex showed Cas how to comb his hair up with some styling product so that it looked more like how it used to, and he was quite impressed, using his fingers to move the tousles around a bit, learning by doing. So that's how this worked.

As he experimented with tousling his hair, Alex plopped onto the bed with a huge bag of trail mix, content to watch him with a heart that felt enormous and quenched. She could breathe again now. Cas felt like himself again and it showed on his face, in his posture. And god, he looked so cute in those pajama bottoms and the white v-neck he'd chosen…

Finally he seemed content with his hair and looked back at her softly. "There's so much to being a human I never even thought about," he said ruefully, beginning to come her way. "Hygiene, grooming, eating, sleeping… the bathroom." He sat down at an angle on the bed near to her, a leg hanging off. "It's overwhelming."

Alex was both sympathetic and fond. "Guess I take it all for granted," she said through some trail mix she was munching, then touched his hair a bit, smoothing it affectionately. "Well, you look more like yourself again, anyway," she said, then studied him with growing soberness. "Feel all right?"

He reached into the trail mix bag, which surprised Alex briefly—it was so strange for him to eat. "Much better, yes."

As she watched him put trail mix in his mouth, Alex struggled to understand what she was feeling. Both a longing for him to be human with her along the road of mortality… and a fear that he didn't want that. He saw the look on her face and paused chewing, a gentle, concerned question in his eyes. "What is it?"

Mildly rueful at how perceptive he was—how easily he could read her now—Alex broached the subject indirectly. "How would we get your Grace back, Cas?"

Cas's face registered knowing, then he finished chewing and swallowed, taking his time to reply. He was regretful. "Well, Metatron stole it. So he has it. In Heaven, where no angel can ascend to without their wings." His mood grew more heavy still. "There were never any trials, Alex. He tricked me to complete a spell which caused the angels to fall." He breathed out unhappily, eyes downcast. "My Grace was the last part of the ritual. Right before he cast me down, he said to go live life as a man, to write a good story." His eyes traveled upward, and there was pain there. Loss. "He says Heaven belongs to him now." His jaw clenched as he processed out loud. "Part of me wants to fight. The other part… is afraid to make things worse." Lost, he finally looked at her again. "How can a mortal stand a chance against the power of Heaven?"

She hesitated, reading between the lines. "So… so you do want your Grace back?" she ventured apprehensively. At the inquisitive little tilt of Cas's head, she wet her lips slowly, guessing she needed to say it. "I sometimes think about me. Aging. Changing. Dying. And then you." There was a brief silence. "Doing none of those things."

Cas heard her underlying fear and was deliberate with his answer. "I want to be with you. With our family. In whatever way possible." With a faint smile, he took her hand in his, running a thumb over her knuckles and looking at their hands for a moment before looking fully into her eyes again. He was vulnerable. Unsure. Hopeful. Tentative. "Maybe this is where I've always been headed." 'This' meaning human.

Alex was mutually soft and thoughtful. She didn't know what she should hope for or want, besides being with him forever. "Well whatever the answer is…" she murmured, thoughts on fixing what Metatron had done to them, "doesn't sound like the kind of thing you can do on your own. We don't really have a good idea yet of how many angels fell to earth or what sort of impact it'll have but… doubt it's something we can allow long term," she said, chuckling cynically ever so briefly in the bottom of her throat. "A job for the Winchesters if I ever heard of one." The corner of her mouth lifted a little. "Which includes you now, if you recall."

He nodded faintly, and from the tender look on his face, Alex saw the kiss before he even moved. "I do." He reached gently to take her by the back of the neck as he leaned forward to sweetly and softly press his lips to hers. It felt like home, it felt like what Heaven was supposed to be. And when they came apart with softly-lidded eyes, they did not part far at all. Cas brushed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers, studying her deeply. "You seem reluctant."

Alex took his hand in hers. "I'm tired," she said honestly. Not just physically. "I just want it to all just stop." Even though she was willing to go up against anything on earth for Cas, for her family, for the son she was still getting used to the idea of… "This feels beyond us." And even more high stakes with being pregnant.

Measured, Castiel almost seemed knowing. "I can think of other things that felt beyond us too," he reminded, searching her eyes and seeing so many memories they had shared there. "We stopped the apocalypse once. I think we'll find a way through this too." His optimism gave Alex the same hope she heard in his voice. He was right, after all. They hugged each other for a long moment, content to hold each other for a long moment and believe they could make it through to the other side of all this. And then there was a very loud growl. Drawing back, Cas was frowning studiously. "Is that your stomach?" he asked, even as Alex grew sheepish.

"This kid of yours is making me hungry as frick," she said, grabbing and tearing into a small package of mini muffins and stuffing two in her mouth. "I'm just glad the nausea is dying off," she mumbled through the mouthful. "It was bad for a minute there Cas. I was puking like five times a day." She finished eating the package of muffins as her partner studied her thoughtfully. Once she was tonguing crumbs off her fingertips, he posed his most burning question.

"How are you feeling about… everything?" She stopped, eyes on his. "We haven't had a chance to talk much about it." What he meant was clear. The pregnancy.

"I know." Alex took in a mindful inhale, allowing herself some time to decide how to say it. "I had a lot of time to think these past six days. About us, the future…" she smiled to herself ruefully. "And I know I was really surprised and didn't know how to react at first but… I do." She met his gaze fully, so overwhelmed with love. "I want this with you. More than I ever knew." Cas was visibly affected by what she said and he touched her gently. "Doesn't make it any less scary," she added, because it surely did terrify her in many respects, "but… like you said. It feels right." She meant that. Every day tracking down Cas she had contemplated her stomach thoroughly, imagining the future and growing more and more used to the idea, more and more in love with someone who wasn't even here yet.

Heartfelt, Cas nodded as his eyes searched the depths of hers. "It does feel right, doesn't it?"

As was a habit now, Alex's gaze dropped low and her fingers softly touched into the fabric against her stomach which was still totally normal looking. Cas watched her in such a way that when she glanced up, she had to know: "What are you thinking?"

His reply was thought out and somber. "I know I've been a questionable angel. But I'll do whatever it takes to be a good father." Sunshine broke out across his features as he continued. "I feel… a sense of wonder I can't describe. Our love made a person." He reached out gently, his fingertips finding space near hers against her torso. His voice wavered into a whisper. "Him."

Alex curled her fingers around Cas's, pressing down a swell of emotion. She tried for a joking comment so that she wouldn't cry at her more sentimental state. "Look out world, here comes Castiel Junior." Cas's eyes snapped up to hers and the expression on his face was such that Alex thought she'd missed something. "What?"

Cas hesitated, an almost coy smile on his handsome face. "I like that name."

Chuckling, Alex wondered if he were kidding around. "It's a little formal, isn't it? Poor kid would need a nickname."

Knowing and pleasant, Cas was unbelievably attractive in that moment, the way he joked back with her: "I'm certain we could figure something out." They exchanged a small laugh, then Cas moved to lay down on his side facing her, his head propped up on an arm. Alex followed along, mirroring him. "I have to be honest," he said when they were settled, a little more somber now. "Despite my elation… I simultaneously fear I'll make a mess of this, Alex."

Shaking her head no, Alex traced fingers across his face thoughtfully, studying every little detail. "Impossible."

He watched the way her eyes traveled around his face. "How do you know?"

Hazel came to look into cobalt in steadfast certainty. "I just do." She snuggled closer to him, carefully putting an arm around his middle and tucking her head underneath his chin. "You're afraid of losing me," she said after a moment, because she knew he had to be thinking about it. But if there was one damn thing Alex was set on, it was this: "I'm not dying in childbirth, Cas. I'm just not." She pulled her head away enough to look up into his apprehensive eyes. "I'm not leaving you and him in this fucking cursed cycle my family keeps repeating." Children without parents. Lives broken by irreparable loss.

There was a vow in Castiel's eyes and he traced hair away from her face gently, tucking it behind her ear. "I won't let harm come to you. I promise. We'll find a way."

Alex had no doubt. "I know we will," she whispered, and they drew into a soft, sensual series of kisses, holding each other closer and closer, firmer and firmer, as mouths became increasingly urgent and deeper searching. Cas would later reflect as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms warm, naked, and at peace that it reminded him of their wedding night so long ago. Alex fell asleep first, and Castiel wished he could stay awake and watch her all night sleeping against him like she was. But the last thing he remembered was pressing a long kiss to the side of her head as rest finally came. Cas smiled as he drifted off. He was finally home.

The Next Day

Dean held the phone to his ear as Sam watched in eager nervousness. "Great, yeah—uh huh, we'll be ready for ya. Yup. Okay, see ya soon Al." He ended the call.

"Well?" Sam asked hopefully.

"The kid and her angel are on their way home," Dean confirmed, a full grin splitting his face.

Sam grinned too, letting out a vastly relieved sigh, finally able to fully relax. "Thank god." Dean gave him a weird look at the choice of words. Sam chuckled. "You know what I mea—" he suddenly straightened strangely and his expression dropped completely. "Castiel cannot stay here," he said in a stilted, lilting take on how Sam spoke.

Disconcerted, Dean blinked twice, finding his voice as he realized: "Whoa—Ezekiel?"

"Correct." The angel looked at Dean through Sam's features grimly. "Did you forget I am inside of your brother?"

Dean made a face. "…Do you really have to say it like that?" he asked. The angel made no reply, which only made Dean more uncomfortable. He wet his lips awkwardly. "'Course not. Sorry, I, I'm just still getting used to this whole thing I guess." Truthfully, he'd let himself forget about Ezekiel using Sam as a host for the past six days. It had been achieved through shady methods and Dean knew it wasn't exactly ethical but… it had been this or Sam dying. He didn't know Zeke would be popping out so bold like this though.

"Everything Sam sees and hears, I see and hear," Ezekiel continued, then repeated his earlier message: "Castiel cannot stay here."

Dean didn't like how this was making him feel. "Why?"

"Two angels in one geographic location?" Sam's features showed mild contempt. "You want to keep Sam safe, do you not?"

What kind of idiot question was that? Dean didn't follow though. "You're saying two angels together will be a bad deal?"

"It will attract trouble. I promise you. Sam is not healed yet. I need more time."

"Well he seems fine to me."

Ezekiel regarded him inscrutably. "Appearances can be deceiving. Your brother needs more time."

Dean crossed his arms. "How much more time?"

"Months, perhaps."

"Months!" Dean exclaimed softly, his arms dropping slowly from shock. "You didn't say that back at the hospital!"

Ezekiel appeared to be feeling impatient. "I am saving your brother's life, Dean. The trials damaged him immensely—it would be wise to remain grateful for what I'm doing for him. For you." He paused for emphasis. "Under no circumstances can Castiel stay here."

Dean scrambled for a solution. "But this is Cas—who vouched for you when I didn't know you from Jack—!" he argued, then indicated the space around them. "The Bunker is safe!"

Ezekiel's jaw clenched. "Bartholomew is amassing a force."

Double-taking, Dean didn't know if he was supposed to know who that was. "Bar-thala-who?"

"A very powerful, cunning angel who has maintained a status of enemy with Castiel ever since he first defied Heaven." Ezekiel was deadly serious. "Castiel is in danger. And if I am here, I am in danger too."

Dean realized how dire this was with a certain amount of helpless shock. "So I have to put the angel who is basically like a brother to me at this point… out in the wind," he surmised, not even sure how he could do that without raising suspicions. That and… "Forget how I feel about it, my sister will not go for this, man."

Ezekiel remained unruffled. "I cannot help you with that, Dean. Allow me to repeat myself one more time. Castiel can under no—circumstances stay here. If he does, I will have to leave Sam to keep myself safe. And your brother will die." Dean's lungs felt like they'd been punched as his thoughts raced. Dean shook his head no even as Sam's face suddenly dropped back into an expression then grew vastly disoriented. "—wait, what was I saying?" Sam asked, frowning hard. Then he caught sight of Dean's expression. "…What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean swallowed, guilt washing over him anew. This was so fucked up. Before he could reply (with a lie) to his brother, Bobby poked his head in. "Hey boys, what'd I miss?" he asked, but immediately keyed in on Sam's expression. "What's wrong, son?"

Sam shook his head again and glanced at Dean who wouldn't meet his gaze. "Uh, nothing," Sam said, but it was obvious he felt shaken up. He cleared his throat and found a smile. "Alex found Cas and they're on their way back."

"Whew, well I'll be damned," Bobby said, a crooked little grin hiding under his beard. "You boys tell her yet about your missing Dad?"

Dean's mood fell another notch. "Yeah, told her a couple days ago." He paced off a couple steps, running a hand through his hair as he dwelled in things he couldn't talk to anyone about. "Still can't believe he left without saying anything."

"I can," Sam said blandly, getting a look from his brother. Sam shrugged. "I'm a realist."

"Uh huh." Dean glanced at Bobby, maybe seeking another opinion. Instead he got a typical Bobby reply.

"Don't look at me, I'm not exactly president of the John Winchester fan club."

Comments like that were like barbs. Dean was fucking hurt by his dad's unexplained disappearance too—they all were—but he made himself believe that it would be explained. That John Winchester had a reason for what he did, even when it seemed like the selfish choice, the unloving choice, the shady choice. "Everyone always hates the man who has to do what he's gotta do, huh," Dean muttered, then unceremoniously left the main room like a dark cloud, his thoughts too much for him to process near others.

Bobby watched with a slight frown and took a half seat on the long table. "What bug's up his ass?"

Sam contemplated the space Dean had occupied. "Who knows." He was pensive, feeling that something wasn't right here.

"Sure you're okay?" Bobby asked, peering at Sam from under the brim of his cap.

Noting his audience, Sam wet his lips. "Yeah just feeling a little off I guess." He forced a little smile. "It's nothing. Thanks Bobby."

Late That Afternoon

Dean exhaled hard out of his mouth as he watched a Cutlass amble up the driveway toward the Bunker. He was relieved to see them, of course he was. But he was dreading what he was about to have to do. This is to save Sam, he reminded himself. Inside the Bunker everything was calm at the moment. Sam and Bobby were checking socials and news sites in attempts to understand the angel situation better, Kevin was hard at work in the library working on translating tablet mumbo jumbo in hopes of finding a way to reverse the spell that had cast angels out of Heaven.

However, the relative peace in the Bunker was most likely about to be shattered. Dean took in a deep breath as the car came to a stop and shut off. Alex got out first, then Cas—he was dressed in street clothes: some jeans, Vans shoes, a dark gray shirt, a flannel layered over it. Alex must have dressed him, because he looked pretty passingly normal. And Dean's stomach was lined with the concrete of dread. He tried his best to greet them without giving his feelings away. "Hey you two," he said, accepting a brief hug from Alex halfheartedly. When brother and sister came apart, Dean went in for a handshake. "Cas. Buddy."

"Dean—I'm so happy to see you." He got a hug instead, and a bit uncertainly patted Cas's back.

"Ah. That's… great," he mumbled awkwardly, glad when Cas stopped. He fixed his friend with a curious smile once they were face to face. "How you enjoying being basically human?"

Cas was as Cas as he ever was: "I'll never get used to urinating and… well, otherwise. Don't you get tired of it all?" At the look on Dean's face, Cas must have decided it wasn't important to know. "That's beside the point," he said, smiling at the hunter warmly. "Dean, I'm so relieved to see you well. And to know Sam is well too."

This was all making things a lot harder than they had to be and Dean fidgeted. He needed to cut to the chase. "Yeah well. Listen. I gotta talk to you two. Been thinkin' since we got off the phone." His tone and body language was giving him away and Alex had her quickly narrowing eyes on him. "Realized I didn't take some things into consideration and, well… long story short…" Dean cleared his throat and made an apologetic, helpless face. "Can't let you stay here, Cas." He mean this part with everything he had: "I'm real sorry."

Alex was quickly becoming furious. "…What?"

Dean had predicted this. He had responses ready. "Yeah uh—listen, these fallen angels are out for blood. His blood. And I'm can't have a beacon holed up in here bringing them down on our heads."

"…You're kicking Cas out?" Alex asked incredulously.

In any other situation he wouldn't have. But his hands were tied. "When you put it that way… sounds real heartless," Dean said quietly, then fixed the confused, wounded fallen angel with an appealing look. "Cas, you're a grown—whatever you are. You know I'm right."

Just like Dean figured, Cas's conscience was hard at work. "I hadn't thought of it but I suppose you do have a point…"

Alex however wasn't as easy to sway. "Cas isn't even an angel right now, how do you think he'll attract angels?!" she protested.

"Look, until we get a handle on all this… until we know more… we can't chance it," Dean insisted, fixing his sister with a very significant look. "It's temporary, Al. Okay?" She only looked more disgruntled. "Cas going into hiding right now is the safest move for all of us," Dean reasoned a little more assertively. "He can ward himself, hole up, then we go from there once we know more. We can only get lucky so many times before our location is compromised. Remember Bobby's house?" Alex was sullen, and Dean undermined her anger: "This isn't as big of a deal as you're making it." He got more eye daggers for that.

But Cas nodded in agreement. Sad agreement, but agreement all the same. "I think Dean's right, Alex. It's the least I can do to keep everyone safe."

Alex directed her aghast anger at Dean anew. "Cas is family, Dean! We don't do this to family! We figure out a way to stay together no matter what! He's vulnerable, he's without his powers—and you wanna cover your own ass?!" She was too insightful for her own good, suddenly deciding it was too suspicious. "No, something's not right here."

Dean forced a cold smile to make it seem like she was crazy. "Oh look, now it's conspiracy theories." He rolled his eyes for effect. "I've let him stay here before, but this time is different, and you know it."

Stumped, starting to realize how serious Dean was about this, Alex visibly struggled with her thoughts for a long moment. "You're really doing this?" she asked. It was somehow worse than the yelling. The betrayal, hurt, and sadness were written plainly. In a final attempt to change Dean's course of action, she tried the guilt game. "Well if you're kicking him out, you're kicking me out too."

Dean already knew she would try that and he shrugged, giving no reaction. "That's your choice to stay or leave, don't put that on me."

Disbelief making her almost red, Alex stared at him in something like disgust. Then he knew he'd won she she cursed at him. "Fuck you," she snapped, brushing past him hard, knocking into him slightly.

"Where you goin'?" he asked gruffly as she stalked toward the Bunker entrance.

"To get my stuff." Was the angry answer.

Mission accomplished. The Bunker door slammed behind her and Dean breathed in and out hard. He had known that would be bad, but it felt worse than he thought it was. His skin crawled and he made himself strong again. Somehow he was gonna get through this round of bullshit. He refocused on Cas and didn't have to lie about the next few things he said. "Look Cas, I'm sorry. I am." He felt burdened to capacity and then some. He didn't bother hiding it. "It's hard to be the leader sometimes. Gotta make some tough calls."

Cas was understanding and considerate. "After everything I've been responsible for causing… of course I don't want to cause you more trouble." Dean felt guilt anew. Cas deserved better. "I'll do whatever I can to protect you, Dean," the angel said, further driving Dean down into the grave of misery. "I owe you that much at least."

It was hard to look the guy in his eyes. "Thanks Cas." Dean gritted his teeth, the tension in his jaw a brief conduit for all the anxiety ricocheting around on his insides. In the midst of this unthinkable situation, Cas's patience and willingness really helped somehow. Touching a part of Dean that surprised him. "I really appreciate you, okay? More than you know." He shook his head, filled with self-pity. "Alex'll take care of you. Hell, you'll take care of each other." He looked off, wondering if he would ever feel right again. "What do you need me for." While Cas studied him in concern, Dean dwelled in his inner pain. He couldn't take this and where it felt like it could lead. But he fucking just had to.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Cas asked. Dean kept avoiding his gaze. "I sense…"

At that moment the Bunker door swung open and out came Sam with a very pinched expression. "Dean, what the hell?"

"Great," Dean muttered under his breath, then turned around to give Sam a tight smile. "So you talked to our sister huh." He fixed his brother with an authoritative frown. "Look, I'm doing this to protect us. Kevin, Bobby, you, me—"

"Why don't Cas and Alex deserve to be protected?" Sam asked forcefully, cutting him off.

Dean lost some bravado. "That's not a fair question."

"What happened to being so excited for them to be here?" Sam asked, riled up and suspicious like Alex had been.

Dean blinked a couple times, trying not to reveal that he hadn't thought about an answer to that question. "Guess I didn't think it all the way through," he said after a couple seconds, knowing how terrible that sounded.

Sam scoffed bitterly. "Unbelievable."

Dean couldn't have both the twins on his case about this, they'd get to the bottom of things if he didn't figure out a way to derail the interrogation. So he went to below the belt tactics and used a piece of information he'd been sitting on for awhile. "You know what's unbelievable? You and that librarian chick." Sam's face fell at the nameless mention of Molly, and Dean thought good. Bingo. He pressed. "Uh huh. I know what all those errands you keep going on and times you look at your phone are all about. You're gonna get that kid hurt, Sam, just like every other girl you've ever messed around with. So don't call me selfish, when you're doing that." It had worked. Sam was knocked down a peg, and Dean drove his point home in his brother's thrown off emotional state. "Look, there have been too many close calls here lately, too many losses—and I gotta do what's right for the team, you got it?" He was committing to this for real, and it scared him, but he said it anyway. "And I don't care who hates me for it." That was a lie. He did care. He cared so much. But he was too afraid to tell the truth now. He was too afraid to lose his brother, his sister too maybe.

Sam grew chilled over. "So that grand old speech in the church, it was just bullshit, huh?" he asked, killing a small part of Dean that he couldn't show. Then another blade straight through the heart: "You sound like Dad."

It took everything to keep himself from reacting. "Whatever, Sam."

"Who put you in charge here anyway?" Sam continued aggressively. "This Bunker isn't only yours, it's ours—all of us. Cas has earned his place here, over and over by this point!"

Castiel cut in quietly. Dean had almost forgotten he was there. "Please. You two." He was mournful to see their altercation. "I'm leaving, Sam. For now. Until we know more. I've done enough damage. I don't wish to do more." Sam shook his head, his expression protesting. But Cas was resigned. "He's right. I'll… only endanger the group. Erring on the side of caution is a smart move." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps I can talk Alex into staying here where it's safer with you."

Sam huffed a brief laugh out, sending a resentful look at Dean. "Fat chance."

And of course, he was right. Alex wouldn't hear of it. She came out with her stuff and hugged Sam goodbye then sent Dean a glare, leaving without a word to her oldest brother. He didn't let it show on his face, the way that made him feel. But later in the Bunker he found a wall, pressed his back into it, and looked upward as quiet tears filled his eyes and leaked out down his face. Had he done the right thing? Could he really live his life with his brother and sister both detesting him like they did right now? It was lonely. It was hard. And he was tired of feeling like this—always grappling some impossible scenario, always in dire straits. He finally sank down into a crouch and clasped his hands, letting his forehead hit them. He felt defeated in almost every way possible. But he wouldn't let the world see. If he did, he would crumble into pieces.

And with decisiveness he stood up and dashed his face dry, shoving everything down inside that was eating him alive. They had fucking work to do. Once Ezekiel healed Sam… maybe he could put this family back together again. If anyone wanted that, anyway.

Three Days Later

Dean yanked the door open to the special holding room then flipped the lights on. Two demons blinked and cringed against the sudden brightness. Syringe held, Dean swaggered in, eyes on the King of Hell. "Got your fix, Anna Nicole."

Crowley attempted not to look starved for the vial of human blood, instead straining at the demonic handcuffs and chains keeping him tethered to the chair he was in. "About sodding time I got a change of scenery, the company down here is dreadful."

Meg shot him a dark look from the eight feet away where her chair was bolted to the floor, same as his. "I beg to differ, you old miserable bag," she growled, then in put on false sweetness through gritted teeth: "You gotta let me go, Dean, this is ridiculous." She jangled at her chains, which were also demon warded.

Dean sent her a half glance as he shoved Crowley's head sideways, exposing the demon's neck. "What's ridiculous is you stalking us and thinking we'd let that fly." Two days ago Bobby had caught the demon 'sneakin' around all suspicious like' outside the Bunker. So now it was a party of two demons in the hole.

"I told you," Meg reiterated angrily. "These fallen angels are screwing with everyone. I was just trying to be a team player."

Dean glanced at her fleetingly. "Wrong team." He stabbed the needle down into lily-white skin. Crowley gasped softly, relaxing visibly and smiling faintly as the blood shot into him. Fully judging him as pathetic, Dean shook his head as he withdrew the needle.

"How many times have I helped you?!" Meg demanded, her chains clinking loudly.

"About as many times as you've screwed me," Dean retorted, then caught himself in his wording.

Spiteful, Meg couldn't even summon one of her trademark snarky replies. Instead she clenched her jaw and had the nerve to look vaguely hurt.

For a second, Dean felt a flicker. He pushed it down and turned to leave. And then a very uncharacteristically bright call of his name stopped him. "Dean. Deee-an." Crowley was grinning almost maniacally. He looked absolutely absurd and drugged out. "I've been thinking. And, well. I hate it here. I'm no one's bitch, you follow, ole buddy boy?" He leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow, that stupid little grin on his face still. "I know you need some help with airlifting a certain blonde bimbo out of the flames of Hades. What say you let me out of here and I make your wildest dreams come true, mm?"

Not what Dean had expected to hear. And he was so caught off guard that for a second in his current state of mind… that he fucking considered it hard. A face he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime passed in front of his mind. A woman who didn't deserve Hell. A woman he thought of every day. A woman he couldn't save…

Meg strained at her chains. "Don't listen to him, Dean." The resentment was palpable. "Even if he weren't a cracked out waste of space, he'd never make good on his end of that deal."

True, but… Dean turned his quiet, significant gaze to Meg, a new thought in his mind. "Would you?"

She looked absolutely taken aback at the question, then like she thought he was pitiful. "Anyone ever tell ya desperation looks pathetic on you?" She hardened her voice. "No."

Dean approached her by a couple steps. "Why?"

Meg lost a little bit of bravado. "To keep things interesting." Dean called bullshit, and his expression said as much. Meg gave an impatient huff. "'Kay, look. As much as the idea of getting the hell out of this dump appeals, I'm never going down to that fiery scumbucket ever again, because good ole King of Hell here put out a hit on me after I helped Sam out a few weeks ago... remember that little funfest?" She smiled tightly, but it was loathing and angry. "You've called in enough favors. I'm done helping." She said this through gritted teeth again and indicated her current plight. "Never works out for me."

Dean guessed it had been a stupid thought to think.

Crowley's soft sing song voice floated over. "Come on, Dean baby," he cajoled. "You need only say the word and your sweet little witch is in the land of the living again." Dean tried not to, but he looked at the demon sidelong. "I can see it. The wheels turning. You want to say yes to me so, so bad…!"

Meg was right about Crowley. Probably. Dean questioned himself for even considering what he was. He drew himself up and closed off any of his true emotions. "I may be a lotta things, but stupid's not one of 'em." He left before he could get himself into trouble. "Enjoy the ambiance, sulphurheads."

"Not even a good insult," Meg muttered, watching Dean's retreat resentfully.

"Uninspired, really," Crowley put in. The lights switched off, plunging the two demons into absolute darkness. "Ah, bollocks."

And while yes, Dean had resigned himself to accepting Jamie's death prior… he couldn't help it. The idea of being able to get to her reawakened, eating him alive all over again.

He went to the library to read through more volumes. He tried to ignore his feelings of isolation, of being misunderstood. The creeping guilt over what he'd let happen to Sam, even if it was for his own good. Kicking Alex and Cas out—Alex who wouldn't text or call him back. It felt like no one liked him anymore—well, Cas did for some reason. But the anger the twins had at him was a knife in his side. He could only think that if they knew the actual truth behind his actions, they'd hate him even more than they already did. Exhausted, Dean eventually nodded off over the pages of an especially thick volume of Hell lore.