Song Remains the Same
Chapter 139 / Inside Job
"Nothing safe is worth the drive."
― Taylor Swift
Three Days Later
Morning ascended gently over the tranquil lakeside scene in the midlands of Kansas. Atop Bobby's vintage 1969 cream-and-rust Winnebago RV, Sam Winchester sat and quietly contemplated the nature surrounding him: the sunlight glittering on pale blue water, birds singing pleasantly, a placid breeze stirring the surrounding pines, and the soothing pattern of water lapping the shore. All of it together created a lull that coaxed the listener to unwind. Inhaling deeply and shutting his eyes, Sam forced himself to experience a very needed moment of peace.
The past three days had been him, Bobby, Alex, and Cas trying to hunt down a very wayward Dean with no luck. The oldest Winchester didn't want to be found, and what's more he knew exactly how his siblings thought, therefore evading their attempts and tactics easily. The dead ends left Sam with various feelings: baffled anger, betrayed confusion, supreme frustration, and a lot of concern too. His brother's insane choice of breaking Crowley and Meg out of lockdown left a lot of unanswered questions and vast worries. At the very least, Sam hoped and prayed his brother was alive… but otherwise, he really just wanted to kick Dean's ass.
Sam's cell buzzed in his pocket, switching the track of his thoughts immediately. A fledgling smile grew in anticipation as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and saw the notification he'd expected: New Message from Molly Z.
They'd been texting all morning. Nothing of consequence—just checking on each other a bit and then sending funny stuff back and forth. Molly's latest text was her responding to the Star Wars meme he'd sent a few minutes ago: She'd put a gif of someone rolling around on the ground crying from laughing. It made Sam feel a swell of fondness as he glanced at her contact photo: A closeup of her grinning with her hands framing her face in a goofy way. He'd taken that photo. God, she was a dork and it was the best. He missed her, and the urge to tell her was quite strong. So Sam hesitated, then sent an impulsive 'I really can't wait to see you again' with a hopeful-looking smiley. The second after it sent, he faltered on the familiar guilt. He still wasn't sure what the hell he was doing with her, or if he was even allowed to be focusing on his personal life at present moment. It made him uneasy to have something so sweet in his life—because dread said that something would happen to her because of him. Or that once Molly got to know him, really know him, she'd realize how much of a certifiable freak of nature he was and reject him for it. He wouldn't blame her if she did, honestly. Sam took a deep breath in, telling himself to just stay in the moment rather than spiral at thoughts of the future. He instead reflected with glowing nostalgia over their now four months worth of memories together that started after the golem adventure: visiting the weekend Lawrence farmer's market, lunch dates that they never called that, grabbing coffee, bowling once, hanging out at her place with her cat playing board games or watching movies or cooking together… it all felt like morsels of regular life. It felt like glimpses of happiness. And he wasn't really used to that.
As soon as Sam sent the text and pocketed his phone again, his mood took a steep downward turn. Because what was he doing? Dean was out on the loose with two demons in tow as he tried to bring in a Knight of Hell all by himself… and Sam was telling a girl he couldn't wait to see her again. He could already imagine Dean berating him about it. He scrubbed his face with a weary hand, trying to remember what Alex had told him recently instead: You deserve happiness, Sam.
He'd love happiness. Of course he would. That's why he'd left for college at eighteen for fuck's sake—he just wanted to feel normal and pursue a typical life outside of the nightmare supernatural world he'd been brought into. The sad part had been him believing that was actually possible. The Winchester curse had called his name like it always would. So his ultimate fear was no matter how much he might deserve or want happiness… any small portions he received of it were temporary. It was always doomed to fail. That was just the way of things, apparently. So this thing with Molly… it had to be temporary. It had to stay surface level and casual. Even if truthfully, Sam was feeling things (and had been since the day he met her) that were much deeper than surface.
The RV began to shake slightly and Sam looked sidelong, recognizing the jostling to mean someone was climbing up the built-in ladder on the tail end of the vehicle. A brown head of hair popped up and Alex heaved herself onto the roof with a little less nimbleness than usual thanks to her growing size (she still didn't really look pregnant to him, just sort of chubby around the middle). Sam's mood picked up a couple of degrees and he sent her a tiny smile.
"Hey you," he greeted affably and she gave him a similar smile as she came to sit close beside him.
With a grunt, she plopped herself down. "Hey yourself." Her feet dangled alongside his, then she nudged his toe with hers. Perceptive and knowing, she eyed him briefly before joining him in taking in the vista. "You okay up here?"
Her quiet question may have been brief, but he could appreciate her steady and understanding support—and the deeper question behind the words. The past three days had been a different world since their brother went AWHOL and having her there to help him shoulder the load had been a saving grace. Still… "Been better," he answered honestly. At the inquisitive little glance Alex sent his way at his vague answer, he dodged going deeper. "Glad to have a three day streak of no brain fog or sleepwalking or memory gaps, at least." He pulled one of his legs up, letting his foot plant onto the roof so he could let an arm lean onto his bent knee. One marked difference between his brother and sister these days was how easy it was to be around his sister. And how difficult to be around his brother.
She nodded thoughtfully, pensive as she studied him and then the scenery. "Me too."
Sam hesitated, eyeing her apprehensively. She'd made a few statements that cumulatively, he was beginning to piece together. "You really think Dean has something to do with it, huh."
His sister was loathe to admit it, but with a brief, empty shake of the head she shrugged. "I mean, I don't want him to, but… maybe. Somehow." Her intense and conflicted gaze met his. "Sometimes… I don't think we fully know what Dean's capable of or not." Even though it kind of startled him to hear her say that… he immediately understood what she meant. And that was scary. She softened a little when she saw the disquiet on his face. "I'm just worried about you, that's all—and you gotta admit. Dean's been… really weird since the last trial. Which is around the time when your memory gaps started. I just think it's too much of a coincidence."
Sam exhaled a tense breath and shook his head, sick at the theory and hoping his sister was wrong, but… Dean had been acting weird as fuck since the trials. And like it or not, Sam's deepest instincts agreed with Alex: something was wrong there. Dean knew more than he was saying about Sam's newest round of issues. Alex reached over and touched his back briefly, sensing her brother's vast internal turmoil and pulling him out of it. "Look, we'll find him. We will. And then we'll figure the rest of this shit out together."
Sam managed a sad smile as thanks for her sympathy. "I just hope it's just before he does something stupid or gets himself killed," he said, then corrected himself: "Well, something even more stupid."
Alex nodded agreement somberly, pulling her phone out and dialing Dean's number. Sam could hear how it didn't even ring, instead going straight to voicemail—just like it had since Dean went missing. "Still off," she muttered. "Dammit Dean." A mutually frustrated, worried silence began when she ended the call. What if Abaddon killed Dean? What if Dean was wrong about being about to save Jamie? What if Crowley and Meg ganged up on him or something? A void of failure, blame, and fear for what came next descended over Sam, muffling his ears to the cheerful bird chirps and pleasant lap of water. He wondered if he should have gone with Dean to save Jamie instead of arguing. If something happened to Dean and Sam could have prevented it…
Beside him, Alex's voice came softly again, breaking him out of his thoughts. "This isn't your fault, Sam."
Halted in his tracks, Sam met her caring gaze and studied her questioningly. "…How'd you know I was thinking that?"
Alex leaned fractionally closer with a conspiratorial smile and indicated herself as if he should already know. "…Wombmate?"
He chuckled, just like she obviously knew she would. The smile lifted his spirits briefly and his senses focused on everything positive: the beautiful shade of sky above, the pleasant air, the comfort of having his twin sister at his side. But the brightness began to fade, and Sam's smile fell with it. "Just… is it always gonna be like this?" he asked softly, not even sure he wanted an honest answer. "The problems don't stop coming, the challenges only get bigger and bigger… and I'm tired. And I feel guilty for being tired." How much more endless drama and pain could he take? There was a limit to everything. And he felt like he was close to his.
Steadfast understanding mirrored back to him, and even before she spoke, Sam felt comforted by the way she listened and heard him. "I know exactly what you mean." She began to visibly think, eyes going into the distance as her mind worked. "It always feels too heavy, doesn't it?" she murmured. "But somehow… we manage to carry it every single time." She returned her eyes to his. "I gotta believe this time's the same." Her demeanor became surprisingly optimistic and she took in a really deep breath of fresh air then let it out with satisfied airs. "Someday, we're gonna retire from all this, Sammy," she announced, eyes on the lake with a fond smile on her lips. "Have normal, boring lives… houses to clean, grass to mow, um… sidewalks to sweep…?" Again, Sam laughed, and she joined in, laughing at her own ignorance. "I dunno."
That sounded good to him. Like the best thing in the world actually. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he really wanted to. He stayed light and playful, even if he really meant it: "You promise?"
A soft smiled passed between them. "I promise." She put her fist out for a bump. He bumped his to hers and they both looped their pinkies in together to squeeze tight as their knuckles touched—their classic secret handshake.
Sam was surprisingly impish. "I'll hold ya to it."
They let go, shaking hands once to complete their little ritual leftover from childhood. It left them momentarily in a very pleasant, hopeful moment. But of course, Sam's thoughts turned as he knew they would. He couldn't help it—his mood was so bleakly reflective lately. "You know, I… I still feel like a freak most of the time, Alex," he ventured softly after a moment. "The kid with the demon blood, Lucifer's vessel, the guy whose brain doesn't work anymore…" He tried not to sound overly serious about it even though it was honestly tearing him apart inside with worry most hours of the day. "Just makes me think. What's next, you know?"
Alex mulled it over, then made a face and answered jokingly. "Something bad, probably." Yet again, Sam cracked a rueful grin. His sister's teasing tone faded. "But I'll be with you whenever and whatever goes down." Yesterday she'd announced that whatever the outcome of this wild goose chase was, she and Cas weren't leaving the bunker again—they'd be staying come hell, high water, or the wrath of Dean. Sam was prepared to back her up on that too, and had made sure she knew as much. He sent her a supportive little smile. Her voice softened, her eyes too. "And hey, from one freak to another… I don't think you're so bad." A touch sentimental, Sam smiled at her for real. His phone vibrated loudly in his jacket pocket and Alex became quite knowing. "I don't think she does, either."
A little sheepish because Alex had spotted him smiling at his phone a bunch the past three days (and seen the name of who was the inspiration of all those smiles too), Sam didn't comment on that last part. "You're not a freak though," he said with a vast measure of pride more than anything else. "You found love, you got yourself together, you're about to have a baby…"
"And I'm stressing about that last part like crazy, Sam," Alex replied, taking care to convey herself as absolutely genuine. She drew in a deep breath like she was steeling herself. She cast her eyes far off in thought. "A lot's gonna change, you know?" A hand lightly touched to her abdomen area, which was obscured by an especially loose-fitting band t-shirt. She and Cas hadn't made her pregnancy public information yet—Sam was still the only one who knew. Her eyes fell to where her fingers light grazed. Her voice stayed soft, and he could hear the worry resting there. "Our family tends to stay in the crosshairs, so… I mean, I worry constantly about this kid and what we're bringing him into."
Sam sat up a little straighter, momentarily honing in one on detail in particular over everything else: "Wait… him?" Alex realized she'd let a very significant, previously unknown fact slip even as the pre-cursor to a grin began to grow on Sam's face. "Alex, are you having a boy?"
If she'd had a plan of giving him the news in a different way, it was dashed now. "…Oops," she confirmed with a silly, sheepish smile, scratching the back of her neck self-consciously in an attempt to hide the huge grin she obviously wanted to allow herself. "Yeah, we are."
It was the kind of news that immediately made everything change. Sam grinned, hugging a hearty arm around his sister in impulsive joy. "Cas Junior, all right!" he joked, missing the little look his sister made at his enthusiastic exclamation. "Wow—!" It settled in over him. He squeezed her a little tighter and she put her arm around him too, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she tried not to grin like an idiot or turn beet red at the outburst of attention. Sam was left to contemplate how it suddenly seemed more real somehow—life was about to change forever ever. But of course he understood her concerns. "Look, I, I get why you're worried—" he counseled. "But hey, this kid's gonna have a lot of people looking out for him. Including his Uncle Sam." Alex shifted back a bit so that she could look up at him. Something very weighty and meaningful passed between the brother and sister. Sam smiled again. He felt hopeful again somehow—it put things into perspective. It made him realize that normal life might actually be possible somehow after they crossed this hurdle. And that put new wind in his proverbial sails. "Here's hoping that retirement's sooner rather than later, huh?" he prompted.
A steadfast smile hung around on his twin's face. "Sounds like a plan."
Beneath them, the RV shuddered as the door opened. Almost directly underneath their feet, Cas appeared. Since he'd fallen from Heaven and lost his Grace, he'd also lost his trench coat… so Sam often for a second didn't recognize Cas without his signature outfit. Like right now: the fallen angel wore dark jeans, rugged boots, a rust-tone button-up flannel, and a zip-up beige hoodie. The hoodie was faintly reminiscent of his trench coat, by color anyway. But still.
Cas spotted them as he turned around with an inquisitive, searching look on his face, then he relaxed and took a few steps back to see them better. "Breakfast is ready," he announced, then suddenly seemed to think of something and held a staying hand out as Alex started to get ready to move. "Wait, wait." She stopped her movement, a curious and faintly amused expression playing on her features. Cas was fishing around in his pocket for his phone. "I need a picture of this."
Alex sighed and sent Sam an entertained glance. "This is his newest thing, sorry," she said under her breath, but she didn't sound sorry. She obviously thought it was endearing.
And it was. Sam realized he had noticed Cas taking a lot of photos the past few days even as he smiled for the camera and squeezed Alex close. Cas took the photo, then beamed at his screen, nodding in approval. "This is a good one," he declared as he admired his handiwork. "I didn't get a finger in the shot this time, either!"
Thoroughly amused, Sam sent his sister a teasing look. "Your husband is a dork," he whispered, then ruffled her hair as she moaned her halfhearted protest. He then nimbly launched himself to the ground in a pretty impressive five foot jump, landing buoyantly.
Cas was taken aback at the sudden leap, then quickly mildly surly. "You should have told me you were about to do that, I would've taken a photo." As soon as the complaint left his mouth, a confused sound followed: Sam had bear-hugged him, clapping him on the back with gusto. He pulled back while holding Cas by either arm and gave him a rousing smile. "…What was that for?" Cas asked, both suspicious and pleased.
Sam looped his arm Cas's neck for a quick side squeeze. "Just, proud of you. That's all." Both men noticed Alex slowly descending the ladder off the back of the RV. "Oh—we should probably—" Sam started.
"I don't need help, I don't need help!" Alex called mildly, but Cas was already on his way over.
Sam watched Cas wait at the bottom of the ladder and hold his arms out for Alex, who pretended (very halfheartedly) to be irritated by his helpfulness before she let herself fall into his waiting arms and be carried a few feet—he kissed her before he carefully set her down, then looped his arm around her shoulders to walk arm-in-arm with her along the length of the Winnebago. She nestled into him contentedly.
They were sweet together, and it really healed part of Sam to see someone treat his sister with such care, affection, and respect. The hell the pair had been through was something Sam would never forget—it had been quite a journey to arrive here. Sam would never take for granted how much so, either. And you know what? Watching the two of them share little moments of love and happiness in the midst of the chaos and confusion made Sam rethink himself. After all, last night when he'd slipped outside to call Molly without being eavesdropped on, he'd accidentally found Cas and Alex making out at the back of the RV—they'd blushed and giggled like high school kids and Sam had gone the other direction to leave them to it, shaking his head and sighing at his luck the entire time.
With a small smile Sam followed them in, but not before briefly checking his phone to see what Molly's reply to his declaration of wanting to see her was: she sent a heart-eye emoji and said she couldn't wait to see him either, when might that be? And it warmed Sam heart and soul, bringing a certain brightness to the day that otherwise wouldn't have been there at all. He texted back a single word, hoping he could fulfill his promise: soon.
The inside of Bobby's RV was quite dated: all-wood interior, brown shag carpeting. The built in kitchenette features and small table were faded yellow. The vintage appeal suited Bobby well, and the entire vehicle was of course stuffed to the brim with all sorts of obscure books, artifacts, hunting accessories, and weapons. There was barely enough room to even stand but somehow the four of them had been making it work for the past few days. Sam of course had it the worst, having to stoop most of the time not to his his head on the low ceiling and sleep in the passenger seat.
Parked at the tiny tabletop, Bobby heaved a weary sight and ended the call he'd been on as he glanced up at the new arrivals. "Welp, the latest blood bank hit was about ten miles east so they're still around here somewhere," he announced moodily, tossing his phone onto the pile of crap in front of him before he folded his arms and studied everyone to see how the day was gonna go. "How's everyone hangin' in?" he asked, especially keen on Sam, who made a wan face that inspired Bobby to give a soft grumbling hmm. "That good huh."
Cas was at the small stovetop and busy portioning out four servings of scrambled cheesy eggs with buttered toast one by one, handing a plate off to each hunter in turn. Alex was first, trading her plate for a quick kiss. Sam was next. He accepted his food with a glum expression—he did his best to give a thankful nod. "I just know I'll feel better once we find Dean and figure out what exactly he's up to," he mused quietly.
Alex wedged herself in opposite of Bobby at the table and sighed wearily. "Me too. And, well…" she scanned everyone's faces apprehensively, fork hovering above her plate. "I can't stop thinking about Dad. Like where the fuck he went and why."
"Like father like son," Bobby muttered, not bothering to speculate.
Sam leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression terse. "Yeah. Guess we'll find out," he said cynically. "Or we won't." He used his fork loudly on his plate, drawing eyes. "That man isn't exactly the best at saying goodbye when he leaves." He didn't bother hiding his resentment and hurt at the subject of his father.
Bobby got his plate next. "Sure isn't," he commiserated, then sent a nod Cas's way before sampling his eggs. His eyebrows rose. "Well damn Cas, what can't you whip up? It's real good, son, 'ppreciate ya."
"I second that," Sam put in. "Thanks, Cas."
Alex just sent a chipmunk-esque smile and a thumbs up, because she had shoved so much in at once that her cheeks were bulging.
Cas tried to be humble in the face of the praise, but he was grinning like an idiot and almost shuffling his feet. "You're welcome, everyone," he beamed. He'd voluntarily made meals several times the past few days, stunning both Bobby and Sam—who were only too happy to have someone around who liked to cook and could.
For a moment, the group ate in quiet. Then Cas piped up from the passenger side front seat, which swiveled back to face the living area. "What's the latest on the angels, Bobby? Do you have any new information?"
Alex's eyes darted to his as she froze mid-bite. Bobby didn't notice, but Sam did. "Nope, nothin' new, been quiet out there," Bobby said, engrossed in the page he was studying as he ate. "Too quiet." He peered up from the paper cynically. "Why, you feelin' like a family reunion?"
Cas looked distinctively nervous about the question and faltered, but not without a quick glance at Alex first. "Well… I'd, I'd like to know if we have any allies. We'll need them."
Bobby studied him a second longer, then shook his head and returned to his book. "Prospects ain't lookin' real good there if I'm bein' honest, Cas."
Cas deflated. That wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.
Sam had caught his twin's gaze and was directing a questioning frown her way and she was reluctantly searching for a way to deflect inquiry. But before she could come up with something, Cas pulled out and stared at his phone. "Um. This is very unexpected." He lowered the phone and fixed the room with an astonished expression and showed his phone screen. "…Dean just texted me his location."
Alex sat up ramrod straight like she hadn't heard right. "He texted you?"
"Where is he?" Sam added, standing taller as he set his plate down with a loud clunk.
Cas studied the text once more. "Not far."
Everyone was already moving into action.
Later
The location Dean sent Cas was on the outskirts of Topeka and led them to a large abandoned sewing machine factory. Outside of it, the Impala was parked—meaning they were at the right place.
Inside the factory was large and maze-like, dim inside even though it was sunny outdoors. The entire building was rusty and corroded, a total health and safety hazard. Water dripped in overhead and the cloying scent of must hung thick on the air—rats scurried around in the beams overhead. As they entered cautiously, Cas called for Dean. A moment later, a call came back—Dean's voice. They headed toward that call watchfully with weapons ready to use if need be.
With Sam leading the way, the group of four made their way through a series of empty sewing rooms until they arrived into a larger staging area where an elaborate devil's trap had been marked floor in crisp white paint. In the center of that trap with her back to them sat a blonde haired woman bound to a chair with demon-warded chains. She was gagged and silent, but visibly alert—turning her head toward the sound of new arrivals. On the perimeter of the trap, Dean and Crowley stood side-by-side with Meg opposite of them. All of them watched as the group entered. Sam was the first to speak as he hotly charged forward to square off with his brother.
"The hell are you doing, Dean?" he demanded.
Dean clearly hadn't expected all the extra company and took in the scene with a cold smile on his face. "Well, the gang's all here huh?" He let the smile fall into his true emotion: irritation. "Mind if we save the beatdown for later?"
Crowley fidgeted at his side, the handcuffs that bound them together jangling noisily. "And when I'm in less proximity, mayhaps?" he suggested in apprehensive jest. The King of Hell looked particularly terrible: greasy pale skin, unkempt hair, darting eyes. The human blood addiction really showed. And he wasn't the only one who looked less than fresh faced.
Dean looked godawful: his wounds from three days ago had scabbed over and purpled in some places, he had a black eye and cut marks visible all over—dark circles were underneath tired but hyper-vigilant eyes. Part of his lower lip was split too. Abaddon's handiwork.
Having gone directly past her brother to look at the woman being held captive, Alex was straightening from her quick and stunned study of a very familiar face indeed. "My god, she really is alive in there, isn't she?" she murmured, looking Dean in the eye with a stunned expression.
A muscle jerked in his cheek as he held himself grimly. He couldn't quite keep strong eye contact with his sister. "I wouldn't be doing this shit if she wasn't."
Whatever brief intermission her anger had taken was over. Alex was approaching him with growing insolence. "So why are you looping us in now, huh?"
Still furious, Sam closed in on him from the other side. "We've been trying to find your dumb ass for the past three days."
Dean held up a hand, obviously irritated that he had to deal with the consequences of his own actions. "Look, I know you're all pissed, I get it—"
A few steps off with crossed arms and a dark expression, Bobby interrupted roughly. "You're damn right we are."
"Running off without a word?" Alex prompted. "Taking on Abaddon all by yourself?"
"Paling around with fucking Crowley?" Sam pressed.
Crowley was surly. "I'm right here you know," he complained, then Dean elbowed him hard, prompting a pitiful sound of pain.
"I did what I had to do!" Dean snapped in his own defense, cornered by all the people he'd pissed off.
Sam threw his arms wide. "You didn't even give us a chance, Dean!"
"I did, and you called me crazy!" Dean argued, jabbing an accusing finger at him.
"…So you put us all in this position instead?!" Alex asked incredulously.
A sour look came her way. "Look, I need your help now, so now's your precious chance, 'kay?"
His rude sarcasm shifted her features. "Why are you being like this?" she asked in scathing aggravation. "Dean, you put us all at risk. And besides that, do you even care how worried we've been?"
"I haven't had time to care, Alex!" came the fiery retort. "And in case you haven't noticed, we got bigger problems!" His free hand jabbed into the air to indicate Abaddon possessing Jamie. "So can we have our little family therapy session later?" Both of his siblings remained quiet, and Dean glanced at Bobby, then Castiel. Obviously feeling ganged up on, Dean smiled almost sarcastically at his friend. "I notice you haven't said anything yet, Cas," he said glibly. "Well go ahead and take your swing. Why keep me waiting."
Cas's frown was mildly unsettled. He studied Jamie's appearance for a moment, and then Dean again. "I… feel more confused and hurt about your choices here than anything else, but… I have empathy for you, Dean." That kind, heartfelt statement made the oldest Winchester's face fall—the first show of true emotion. Cas began to walk the perimeter of the devil's trap, giving everything in the surrounding area a once-over as he walked. "I assume you've attempted to cast Abaddon out, but had no luck since she's not a typical demon." He met gazes with Meg, who smirked. Unlike Dean and Crowley, she looked just dandy and like her normal self—back to being dark-haired, cynical, and saucy.
"Correct, Clarence." She folded her arms. "Lucifer made the bitch, so we have a theory that only an angel can cast her out—" She arched a brow, her voice distinctly sultry. "Know any of those, choir boy?"
Cas's expression became dull and regretful as he understood Dean's reason for calling him here. "…I see." He exchanged a loaded glance with Alex. "The timing of all this is very unfortunate indeed." His apologetic eyes sought out Dean's. "I won't be able to do anything to help you Dean—I'm human at this point, essentially."
Crowley giggled at Cas's misfortune. The effect was on the deranged side thanks to his shoddy appearance. "Oh deary me," he commented, getting another elbow from Dean in his side. "Oy!"
Meg appeared genuinely aggravated. "Right. So angel boy's got no firepower." She shifted her weight and adjusted her attitude, retraining Cas in her sights. "We kinda figured. Which is why we were hoping you'd have a stunt double or two on your speed dial."
Crowley shook his head with a loopy smile and an eye roll. "And as I said before," he cut in patronizingly, "an asinine, useless plan." He sent a dark, challenging smile to Cas. "He's killed most of his angelic allies by now, who could he possibly have left to call?" He winked at the fallen angel, who bristled and looked away with clenched fists.
Dean grabbed Crowley hard by the shoulder, startling him. "If you like your mouth where it is, I'd shut it right about now buddy." He shoved roughly.
Apologetic once more, Cas shook his head no. "He's right, Dean. I… I don't know anyone." He hesitated, then grew faintly hopeful. "Have you tried praying to Ezekiel?" Dean's features dropped into a strange expression that prompted Cas to hesitate like he'd made some kind of social misstep. "I only mean because he answered your call for help before."
There was a brief, bated silence. "He's uh, not answering," Dean mumbled, avoiding everyone's gazes briefly as he cleared his throat.
"Mm," Meg commented cynically, aiming an assertive stare over at Dean. "Alright, loverboy. So what's your brilliant plan now?"
Dean wet his cracked lips in thought, his eyes darting around the number of people nearby nervously before he set his eyes onto his brother and jerked his head, indicating they move. "Sam, lemme talk to you." He un-cuffed himself from Crowley and moved the demon to a nearby solid metal pole where he left him stuck in place.
Sam looked uncertain and even suspicious, hesitating to follow Dean off into the more shadowy edge of the room but he did—and Alex was right on his heels, uninvited but following and catching up just as Dean reached the far end of the room and turned around. Out of earshot if they spoke softly, there was semblance of privacy for the Winchester three there.
"Dean, we would've helped you with this," Alex said, her gentler tone pleading with him to help them understand his actions and the worry he'd caused.
Dean remained fully in dick mode despite her effort to reach out. "Well gosh Alex, can't say I'm feeling exactly close to you the past however long, can't imagine why I didn't call you in my hour of need."
His careless words stung her. Offended, Alex didn't hide her reaction. "Right," she replied caustically. "You're the victim here—I'm the reason we don't talk." He said nothing, but clear guilt played on his tense features when she called him out. And Alex sighed, her anger melting into sadness—and immense longing for reconciliation. "Look, I can tell you're going through a lot—a lot you never really told me about, apparently—but like, what was that grand speech of yours in that church if you were just gonna do all this?" Dean's discomfort increased as Alex held him to his words and Sam watched with concern. "You said we could face anything if it was together, so why the fuck are you dividing us like this? And ghosting when you really need our help? Leaving us wondering if you're even alive or not still?" She didn't understand, it hurt her, and she let him see how much so. "You're pushing us apart more and more all the time." She tried to move a little closer to him. "Why?"
Dean exhaled haggardly and dragged a tired hand across his forehead as he thought for a long, strained moment. When he fixed his sister with a steady gaze, it was pained. "You know, I'd say you don't know what it's like to lose someone you can't imagine living without, but I know you do." The honest reply startled both Sam and Alex. "How you'd do anything to save them. Risk whatever." Dean's openness was short-lived, abruptly disappearing in favor of reinforced walls. "So this is me asking you to back the fuck off, because I'm not the only one in this family who's done lunatic shit for the person they love, okay?" He made a 'shoo' motion with his hand, causing Alex's expression to fall into a darkly wounded expression. "I gotta talk to Sam. Alone. So go."
Alex's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She tried to put on a tough face for the sting she clearly felt at being sent away. After deliberating for a couple of really loaded seconds, she nodded that she was going to comply. But she didn't leave without first letting him know what was what. "I am gonna find out what the hell's going on with you, do you hear me?" she asked lowly. It might as well have been a threat.
Dean brushed it off. "Can't wait."
With a visible effort to bite her tongue, Alex turned on her heel and walked off in a huff to rejoin the group at the devil's trap.
Sick of Dean's bullshit, Sam leveled his brother with exasperation as their sister got run off. "Why, Dean?"
Dean rounded on his brother and gave him an extremely meaningful, intense look that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "Because I need your help."
Sam was immediately thrown. "No, I mean why talk to her that way?" he asked, then increased in force of speech slightly when Dean had the gall to look inconvenienced at the question. "She cares about you, Dean!"
"Yes, good, fine!" Dean whisper-shouted impatiently. He truly looked like he were about to crack up completely. Which made Sam wonder.
"…When'd you last sleep?" he asked in skeptical concern. "Or eat?"
He got no answer. He only got Dean grabbing him by both arms and looking him in the eye in that intense, wild way again. "I need your help, man," he said slowly from behind gritted teeth.
Sam was starting to think he was missing something and leaned away from his brother's crazy eyes. "…With learning some goddamn manners?"
Dean began to look angry. "No. I need your help," he insisted, mystifying Sam further. "Understand?" When Sam clearly did not understand, Dean shook him slightly. "Should I get on my knees and pray?!" he asked wrathfully in that whisper-shout again, further confounding his brother. "I know you can hear me in there, dude!"
Sam's face, which was twisted up in confusion, suddenly lost all expression as his eyes flashed bright whiteblue. Ezekiel had come forth, but unhappily so. "What do you want, Dean?" he asked in a tense low voice, casting an edgy scanning glance at the people just a few yards off who he didn't want to gain awareness of the situation. Alex was watching hawkishly, only missing seeing the telltale flare of light in the eyes by a fraction of degrees.
Dean remained short in temper. "Yeah nice to see you too," he said, then set the angel with a commanding glare. "You're a halo, you can expel Abaddon from my girlfriend. So do it. Now."
Ezekiel regarded Dean frostily, understanding settling in. "I see." His eyes dropped disdainfully to Dean's iron grip on him before darting up to silently threaten let go or else. Dean complied grudgingly, and Ezekiel cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. "You know Dean, I am beginning to understand your problem," he offered in clipped tones, his icy gaze pious. "You are a miserable person." He tipped his head up to look down his nose judgmentally. "And no one likes you."
Dean didn't miss a beat. "You just now figuring that out?" he retorted irritably before crowding Ezekiel's space and baring his teeth. "Look, I've been letting you piggyback Sam in secret for two months now, you owe me and you know you do." A lecturing finger threatened Ezekiel to listen up. "So here's what's gonna happen—I'm gonna create a distraction. And then you're gonna exorcise. We have an understanding?"
Ezekiel didn't hide his distaste for the way the interaction was going. "This will weaken your brother exponentially, Dean," he advised. "And it will look very suspicious indeed."
Dean didn't bat an eye. "That's just gonna have to be the way it is. Now are you gonna do it or not?"
With careful measure—Gadreel, not Ezekiel—studied Dean mistrustfully. He had come to vehemently dislike this domineering, angry man but he knew there was a fair point made—Dean was letting him occupy his brother and keeping his secret. So for now, Gadreel had to stick with the safety he had access to. And that was here, hiding inside the body of one unknowing Sam Winchester and biding his time. As such, Gadreel unwillingly complied with a foul expression. "I will do it."
Relief visibly settled over Dean—it looked like he had expected a tougher time convincing the angel to comply. So he took a couple seconds and nodded and blinked, wetting his lips as he realized his request was actually granted. "Just—just be careful," he requested with surprising vulnerability. His eyes went to where Abaddon sat. "Don't do anything that'll hurt the vessel."
Gadreel nodded crisply and stood straighter, trying to hold himself and act like Sam Winchester would. Dean indicated they should rejoin the group and marched off that direction, pulling the angel by the arm of his jacket the entire way.
As they approached, Gadreel watched Alex, who stood closely with Castiel—and yet again, Gadreel was struck by bitterness. Even though Gadreel had stayed dormant the past three days, he had seen every interaction Sam had shared with his twin sister—and he had seen mutual respect, affection, and kindness. He was jealous of their relationship. Not only that but he was also jealous of the human/angel relationship Castiel and Alex shared. He could see easily how supporting, loving, and seemingly equal the two of them were. The only thing Gadreel had ever known was sub-ordinance, taking commands and being a failure worthy of total exile. All of Heaven knew Castiel's long list of misdeeds, and yet here he was, loved and accepted and viewed as some kind of hero. It didn't seem fair. It made Gadreel want similar for himself. He thought darkly of Metatron's offers of alliance.
Sour, the angel yanked his jacket arm out of Dean's grasp. He didn't miss how Alex's silent, watchful gaze crawled all over him, asking for answers as they arrived back to the devil's trap edge. He felt like if they made eye contact, she would immediately know that he wasn't her brother. Even as Gadreel avoided Alex's eyeline by turning his body away by about forty-five degrees, Dean approached Crowley, who remained chained to his pole uselessly just a few paces off from the devil's trap. He signaled for Meg to come over, who appeared unsure about the idea, but complied anyway.
A hand came to gently grasp Gadreel's arm and the angel's worry spiked into near-alarm. He knew who it was. "Sam, what'd he say to you?" was her gentle question. "What's wrong?" Alex's youthful face peered up at him and Gadreel was forced to look her in the eye despite his dread. The worry there in her eyes grew deeper—and it made a pang of pain resound inside. Gadreel had never had someone care about him the way she visibly cared about Sam. He wondered what it would be like if someone ever worried for him that way. "What is it?" Alex asked softly, and for a moment, Gadreel let himself pretend the concern there was truly for him.
"Hey, hey, hey!" came a rapidly escalating series of shouts from Dean.
Alex and Gadreel whipped their heads to the source of the sound—Dean was grappling on the ground trading blows with Meg (while she shrieked something that sounded like "what the hell!?") as Crowley was somehow running for the exit. Alex immediately dashed over as Cas and Bobby jumped into action too—Bobby chasing after Crowley as Cas and Alex tried to yank Dean and Meg apart.
Understanding that this was Dean's clumsy attempt at a distraction, Gadreel approached the bound and gagged Knight of Hell swiftly. Dawning surprise showed on Abaddon's face when he came into her line of vision. She began to shake her head no and fight the chains pinning her in place as her widening eyes took in his emerging halo. He grabbed her chin roughly and let a torrent of powerful Enochian pour from his mouth.
"Za ra ko da ma, fe da ra ma, jay ra ma, zot!"
Her eyes flew wide as saucers and he ripped off her gag with brutality. Her head fell back with a sharp jerk as a shrill scream of pain and rage alike ripped from her throat, followed by a thick plume of black smoke that snaked upwards in the air then rushed out of the factory in retreat. When it was done, Jamie's blonde head slumped down unconsciously in front of herself.
Nearby Cas and Alex had just managed to pull Meg and Dean apart. "You two-timing bitch!" Dean shouted at Meg, who by all appearances seemed utterly confused about what had just happened to her. Cas held Dean back with effort. "Why'd you let Crowley go!?" Dean shouted at her in a rage.
Being held by Alex (but she didn't struggle much, she looked too perplexed to fight), Meg gaped. "You let him go then attacked me!" she accused back with astonished eyes. Blood leaked out from the place where he'd split her lip.
"And just why the hell would I ever do that?!" Dean demanded convincingly.
Meg's jaw dropped as she put it together. "He's setting me up," she said softly, then suddenly regained her fire and yanked hard in an attempt to break free. "He's setting me up!"
Dean yanked out of Cas's grip but composed himself, then grabbed up the demonic handcuffs from off the pole and tossed them to Alex. "Cuff this psychotic bitch, will you?"
Meg's expression showed absolute betrayed shock. Cas and Alex exchanged a very intense, confounded glance, and Alex gave Meg a shrug and went ahead and did it—for now, anyway. That's when Cas and Alex both saw what had happened.
Not far off, a blonde head that had hung slumped over was slowly rising. Disoriented, weakened, pale, with cherry-red lipstick smeared all around her mouth… Jamie. Alive, conscious, and obviously unsure of where she was. The looks on their faces when they saw her made Dean stop what he was doing and turn to look to see what they were so stunned by. When he saw her, his face fell into this indescribably wretchedly hopeful expression as everything else in his mind visibly ceased to matter. He drifted forward a couple steps, glanced into Ezekiel's eyes for confirmation, then rushed over, dropping to his knees in front of Jamie and taking her face in his shaking hands.
"Hey, hey, you okay? Can you hear me?" he asked her soft and urgent. "You with us James?"
Foggy, confused eyes met his—her breathing was shallow, she'd been sapped dry. But recognition sparked the second their eyes locked and there was a softening—an echo of the hope Dean's face was full of. Then quickly following, dazed confusion. "...Dean?" she croaked softly, almost like she couldn't believe it.
Overjoyed relief flooded over Dean, making him appear instantly years younger as he nodded yes and gently grabbed her into a very awkward, intense hug she couldn't respond to even if she'd had the strength. There were several layers of chains keeping her locked in place. Which, of course, Dean quickly realized and he began to frantically grab for the keys to get the restrains off of her. Even as he did that, Bobby reappeared to stand beside Alex and Cas who were watching the scene uneasily, unsure of what the hell had just gone down.
"I lost him," Bobby said, breathing heavy from running.
Crowley was currently an afterthought. "What, did… did Abaddon just jump ship on her own?" Alex whispered, unable to look away from Dean's quick work at freeing Jamie.
"I'm telling you," Meg seethed in a low whisper, cuffed and held tightly on the arm by Alex. "Dean let Crowley go."
"Why would he do that, Meg?" Alex asked in a fierce whisper back. Call her crazy, but she half believed Meg.
"None of this makes any sense whatsoever," Cas murmured apprehensively, his face made tight from disturbed emotion.
Dean got Jamie out of the chains and he caught her limp form from falling off the chair, then sat on the floor and held her as she pressed an ailing hand against her head and groaned in pain. "What happened?" she croaked, her voice scratchy and dry. "I was in Hell…" she managed, eyebrows drawn together in feeble confusion.
Shaking his head with that teary-eyed relief taken over his face completely, Dean smoothed her wild hair. "You're gonna be okay," he promised, but Alex wasn't so sure. She shoved Meg at Bobby to hold and stared at the woman in Dean's arms, approaching slowly.
"Is that really her?" she asked, hovering edgily. Jamie looked bad. Weak, sick, drained of color. "She… doesn't look so good." As if on cue, Jamie's eyes unfocused and her head pitched back as she lost consciousness again.
His brief elation was plunged into horror once more. "James! Jamie!" Dean's fingers rushed to find her pulse—it was weak and slow. He needed to get her to a hospital. But even before he could begin to get ready to stand, everything went sideways.
"Um, guys?" Meg cut in, her tone of voice causing everyone to look, because she sounded freaked. With a very odd expression indeed, she was staring at Sam. "Someone wanna tell me why Sam's got a fucking halo around his head?"
Gadreel was caught, and he looked absolutely salty, giving a brooding, angry glower to Dean who suddenly realized just how ill-advised his rushed plan had been.
"What?" Alex breathed, eyebrows pinched together hard and her eyes found her brother. "…Sam?" The angel acknowledged her with a chillingly dark expression, making it immediately apparent: not Sam.
"He was Sam earlier, and now… it's, it's some angel in Sam's body," Meg said, sounding as flabbergasted to say it as everyone else looked to hear it.
Cas found his voice first, and it trembled lowly with fear. "What did you do, Dean?" he asked, fear-filled eyes darting to a very stricken, quickly panicking Dean.
No doubt her temper would get the better of her within a few more seconds, but for the moment, Alex was in shock. "W-what the fuck is going on?" she demanded, voice soft with fear. "Where's Sam? Where's my brother? What is this?!"
Everyone was looking to Dean for answers, and he had nothing except the urgent need to get the woman he was holding to a damn hospital.
Gadreel clenched his jaw and aimed another furious glare at the oldest Winchester. "I told you this was a bad idea, Dean," he said, even as his eyes began to burn hot white. He held a hand out toward the general direction of all the onlookers. They didn't have a chance to run, react, or attack—he was already commanding them in a voice that seemed to resound through their bones themselves: "Forget."
And with that word, a pulse of light and energy exploded out of Ezekiel, sending a ripple outward into the group. Everyone fell over unconscious, memories of what had just happened erased instantaneously. Everyone but Dean, who was left to clutch Jamie with wide, shocked eyes as the angel in Sam's body towered over him and glared down.
Surrounding Dean, victims of his deceit, lies, and betrayal. It really hit home in that moment for him. It fully clicked into place. I'm a goddamn bastard, Dean thought. A verifiable lunatic.
"Just remember," Ezekiel declared contemptuously. "You asked me for this."
Even as Dean took in the scene he'd caused with absolute appalled guilt, he watched Ezekiel crouch and then transition onto the ground with a face of stone, glaring daggers at Dean the whole time before he laid down flat, closed his eyes, and then allowed Sam to return—so that Sam would think he had been knocked unconscious, too. Another lie in a growing, disgusting collection.
Even as Dean scrambled to even process what had just happened, his brother was pushing himself up off his back with a shocked, scared expression. "Dean! W-what happened?!" He spotted Cas and Alex's unconscious forms, then Bobby's and Meg's and he jumped to his feet, assuming the worst.
And watching that just drove the knife deeper. "They're unconscious, no one's dead, Sam, don't worry," Dean managed, trying to hide his remorseful guilt away. Sam had crouched beside his sister and was getting a pulse even as Dean told him that. Relieved, but only mildly so, Sam's shoulders slumped and he exhaled a shaky breath.
"So… so what happened?" he asked. "Last thing I remember was walking into the room and seeing you…" he trailed off and came up with nothing else, then pressed a hand to his head in sudden discomfort. He visibly began to realize how weak he felt. "W-why do I feel… like I got hit by a freight train?"
Dean lied. "I uh… I dunno," he said, hating his own guts.
Sam suddenly registered who Dean was holding in his arms and shock rippled over his face. "Is she… is that Abaddon?"
Dean realized he was gonna have to come up with another lie. "No, uh—I'm not sure how but—well, Crowley escaped, after he did some kinda knockout spell or something—maybe it knocked Abaddon out of Jamie, I dunno, I uh, I don't really remember anything either." Lying to his brother was the worst feeling, but Dean didn't know how else to get himself out of the hole he'd dug.
Sam was perplexed by the odd scenario, but then his expression fell away in favor of a grimace and a soft sound of discomfort as he stood woozily and had to hold a hand out into air to catch his balance. Dean's selfish fears flew out the window for the moment. He stood, gently letting a still-unconscious Jamie rest on the floor in favor of going to his brother in concern. "Hey, Sammy, you okay?" he asked, fearing that in his desperation he'd done something he couldn't undo.
Sam didn't look sure about the answer. "I uh,—I don't feel so great," he said, then shook his head and forced a positive expression. "I'll be fine though."
It wasn't the most convincing reassurance. "You sure, little brother?" Dean asked, more gently now. Sam nodded stiffly, being brave even though he obviously was shaken up and worried about himself all over again. Torn between two loyalties, Dean's eyes cut to Jamie's still form. He really couldn't afford to waste anymore time—she really needed a doctor. Dean hadn't done all this crap to lose Jamie the second he got her back. "Okay well, I—I gotta get James to the hospital. Can you uh—can you handle all this for me, Sammy?" 'All this' being Dean's mess, but Sam didn't know that.
Sam nodded readily, concern filling his face as Dean went and hauled Jamie up into his arms to carry her out. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Keep us updated, Dean," he said, his eyes filling with worry and love and pain alike. He hesitated. "We just wanna be a family again."
Words that cut him to his core. Dean tried to smile, he really did. But it fell flat, because it hurt too damn much. "I know Sam. I know."
The ragtag group re-emerged into the sunshine with inexplicable headaches and no memory of what had happened. Sitting right where they left it, the RV waited.
"…A knockout spell?" Alex repeated with a highly doubtful frown as she came to a stop and folded her arms. "Crowley? In his state? And can demons even do that?"
Sam was weary and didn't bother to hide it. "That's… what Dean said. I dunno."
No one there in the impromptu circle looked convinced. Not Bobby, nor Cas, nor Alex—even Meg, still cuffed and held by Bobby, looked dubious.
"Right," Sam said, taking in everyone's expressions with low energy. "My thoughts exactly. But hey, I mean—he got Jamie back so that's a win, right?"
Bobby hmmed deeply in his throat, remaining ever the realist. "Yeah but Crowley's in the wind. And Abaddon's still kickin' too."
"And hell hath no fury like that crazy bitch," Meg muttered before she held up her wrists solicitously. "Are we sure no one remembers why I'm in these damn things…? Look, I like some bondage as much as the next girl but geez, what kinda safe word gets these puppies off me, huh?" When no one did anything but give her slightly inconvenienced glances, she gave a disgusted, impatient sigh. "How many times do I have to prove myself to you people?" she complained through gritted teeth, then gave up and stewed silently at Bobby's side.
The only person there who seemed to be sympathetic to Meg's plight was standing opposite, a conflicted expression growing on her face. Alex couldn't help it… after Meg stayed with her during Cas's coma-in-the-hospital thing, her viewpoint on the demon had shifted, like it or not. And why was she in the handcuffs? Hadn't those been on Crowley? Alex couldn't really remember. She grimaced hard in her attempts to do just that. Nothing. Nada. It was all blank. And as dark as the thought was… Alex was already wondering if Dean had something to do with this. She didn't remember even seeing him except for maybe one, two seconds top. It was discouraging as fuck.
"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked Alex for the third time since she'd regained consciousness. Alex was forced to forget her musing for the moment. "Everything's okay with… with uh the… with you?" he asked, trying to be slick but cluing Bobby in immediately to something being up.
Meg smirked, two steps ahead of the older hunter. "Well if you're trying to be coy, you know demons can sense this kind of thing, right?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at Alex and Cas both then wrinkling her nose impishly and eyeing Alex's torso area suggestively.
That was the last straw: Bobby visibly decided that he was definitely being excluded from something—after Sam and Cas both had said or done odd things the past few days where Alex was concerned, it was all too obvious at this point that something was going on. "Alright, fess up," he grumbled, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "What'm I missing?"
Cas and Alex exchanged a significant look—it was something they'd discussed at length—how to tell Bobby and when. This hadn't been the exact scenario but Alex decided to roll with it—it was past time to tell her uncle the good news, plus she just really just wanted to. It hadn't felt right the past few days during the hunt for Dean to announce the pregnancy. But right now would do just fine. So she cleared her throat and gave Bobby the kind of smile that alerted him big news was coming. "Well… we wanted to tell you under different circumstances but… uh… no time like the present, I guess," she started. Beside her Cas stood a little taller and prouder, putting an arm around her as he understood that she was choosing now to be the time. Alex's secretive smile grew, full of tender things that her uncle would very soon understand. "Cas's cooking is good and all…" she began, enjoying seeing Bobby's wheels turn, "but that's not the reason I'm kind of fluffy these days."
Bobby blinked once, his brain connecting the dots then seeming to think his conclusion couldn't be possible. He looked quickly to Cas for further explanation. The fallen angel beamed and grinned, a rare sight. "Bobby, you're going to be a grandfather."
The older man exhaled softly, surprised, his eyes darting back and forth between the happy couple in rising emotion as understanding set in. "...Well I'll be damned," he breathed. He was beginning to tear up, and he swept his hat off his balding head—a very rare sight indeed—to hold it to his chest in an impromptu display of speechless warmth. "Ya'll sure do have some timing, I'll give you that much," he managed through a voice thick with sentiment. Alex was blinking away teary eyes of her own to see how touched he was. "C'mere, kiddo." Alex did, and Bobby hugged her real tight, cleared his throat, then blinked his tears away and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Sure do love you," he whispered before he squeezed, let go, and put his hat back on sternly, like that was enough of that.
"Cas," he said, reaching out for a warm handshake while Alex dabbed at her eyes and cleared her throat.
Meg, who'd had the polite sense to stay quiet and allow the moment to unfold without her flirty sarcasm, eyed Alex coquettishly. "Sooo, I'm totally asking for a friend here—" she purred, "but I gotta know… is 'Meg' on your list of baby names?"
Alex couldn't help the long-suffering chuckle at the demon's question. "Is this your really weird way of saying congratulations…?" she asked, receiving an overly-innocent shrug and smile as answer. Alex realized she had a question of her own: "How do you always get roped in with us, Meg?"
The demon ruefully rolled her eyes at herself. "Trust me, wish I didn't, but… guess I can't help it. Even after all these years and all the unthinkable shit we've done to each other…" She sighed and it was hard to tell if she was putting on an act or really was as baleful and annoyed with herself as she sounded when she admitted it: "I… kinda like you guys."
A long-standing suspicion that Alex didn't need Meg's word to confirm. It only made her smile ruefully, contemplate for a minute, then reach out toward Bobby and make a come-here motion, indicating he hand Meg over. He was taken aback, but after Alex nodded and motioned again, he hesitantly did as asked.
"Girl time," Alex explained facetiously, pulling Meg away from the group by a few steps. The men watched closely, unsure what was happening.
Meg was also puzzled. Alex hadn't prepared a speech or anything, so she cast around for words for a minute and wet her lips. This had been a long time coming, even if she didn't want to admit it. And she hadn't thought today would be the day to address it either, but… here she was. About to attempt something like amends with someone who'd been an enemy for years. "Look, I… I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened back when I had to…" she trailed off, unable to be overly specific because of how awful the torture had been. "You know."
With eyebrows that had risen slightly in surprise and a dawning smile, Meg filled in the gap: "Scrape my insides out and feed them back to me with a spoon?" Alex said nothing, merely squirmed for a second in discomfort. Meg was genuinely surprised and entertained. "What, is Mommyhood making you soft?" she asked as if she thought that was stupid. Then of all things, she brushed it all off with a disarming grin. "Water under the bridge, Ariel."
Alex faltered. "…How could what I did to you back then possibly be water under the bridge?" she asked in all honesty.
And yet here the real Meg was, holding her gaze steadily, making Alex wonder momentarily if the demon was actually being authentic for once. "Let's keep it real," Meg said, sounding almost reasonable. "I would've done the exact same thing if the roles were reversed. I understood that then, and I understand it now." She smiled as if fond, her personality returning toward the more absurd slowly. "Hell, I even respected you for the relentless brutality if I'm being honest." Her face took on an overly suggestive quality. "And hey, there were a couple times when I kinda enjoyed all the flailing you subjected me to, sunshine." She winked.
Predictable. And yet Alex still had to quash exasperation at Meg's penchant for stupid comments. She chose to overlook it in favor of what she had decided to do. "I want you to do something for me, Meg."
Meg smiled readily, and it was impossible to tell if it were false or not. "Name it, sweet cheeks."
Alex deliberated for a long moment, making sure she was sure. And she was. So she told the demon meaningfully: "Don't make me regret this." She pulled out the keys she'd found dropped on the floor, and began removing Meg's cuffs.
An uncharacteristically raw and stunned expression washed over the demon's face. "…You yanking my chain?" she asked softly, narrowing her eyes as if she expected a 'gotcha' any second.
But there wasn't one. Alex had the cuffs now and put them away in her pocket. "Does it look like I am?"
Meg's expression worked oddly through a series of things: first touched astonishment, relief, confusion, then finally cautious happiness. "Well, wonders never cease," she murmured. Another broad grin suddenly stretched across her face. "You're the Dorothy to my Rose, chickadee," she said, then turned her attention to the group of watching, confounded men. Meg gave a boy scout's salute to them cheekily. "Well. It's been real. Seeya out there, gang." And then she disappeared into thin air.
Sam and Cas both were mutually intrigued and confused by Alex's choice, but Bobby was mildly disgruntled. "What, we just lettin' all the bad guys go today?" he grumbled.
Alex rejoined the three of them while giving her uncle a playful look. "Oh, sorry—you wanted to listen to more insufferable snark all day long?"
Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed. Alex kept her truer response private: she didn't feel that Meg was a bad guy anymore. Morally gray, hella annoying, and kind of ridiculous yes. But bad guy? Not so much. Not anymore.
Stormont Vail Hospital
Topeka, Kansas
There he was. Sitting uselessly at a bedside in another godforsaken hospital playing the waiting game to see if someone he loved would live or die.
With little idea of how long he'd been in this place, Dean leaned over clasped hands and watched Jamie with intense worry. She was lost under a sea of tubes, wires, and medical crap, pale in color—painfully reminiscent of the way she'd looked when he'd stolen her dead body from a morgue. The steady beep of the heart rate monitor was the only thing reminding Dean that she was still breathing. To Dean's dismay, she'd been put into a medical coma, just like Sam had been just a couple months ago, and her prognosis wasn't good. He might lose her again. He hadn't reacted well when the doctors told him that, and he still couldn't even think about accepting that fate. The only thought there that gave him any semblance of comfort was this time, she'd go to Heaven if she died. But she couldn't fucking die and leave him alone down here. Not again. And certainly not before she let him know if Abaddon had been lying about their daughter being alive or not…
Dean glanced down at his vibrating phone, which was sitting on his leg where he'd set it last. Sam was calling again. And Dean let it go to voicemail. Again. He was spiraling, and talking to his family would only add to his stress and shame and guilt. He didn't want to face everything he'd done. Eventually he knew he'd have to deal with it all, but for now he tried to avoid those thoughts. Thoughts of how he was aligning himself with demons and shady angels over his own damn family. The lies, the unacceptable actions, the kidnapping demons and erasing minds and…
My god. You are a piece of work, Winchester.
He almost couldn't handle being in his own head anymore. It was so shitty but he kept wishing that Zeke had wiped his mind too so he didn't have to remember the wrathful and hurt way his siblings, uncle, and friend Cas had looked at him in that factory. The accusations and pain that had come his way. The judgment in their eyes. But here he was, stuck with the truth and dreading the day he would have to come clean. If today was any preview of that…
They'll never wanna speak to me again when they find everything out.
And could he fucking blame them? Dean's body was a prison of anxiety, depression, and grief. His every atom felt tense, poised for emergency and disaster, for running away, for coming up with a lie to cover up his own ass. All he could do was hope and pray that Jamie would somehow make it and that all his dark deeds would be worth it even in some small way in the end. Then he could survive all this somehow.
But for now, he felt isolated by his choices and lost like a little kid. His throat was closing in the onset of tears, and he tried his hardest not to break. But he broke all the same and hung his head as the grief came in the form of stinging tears he couldn't stop. He was so fucking lonely and scared. He held his pounding head in two hands miserably, shaking his head no as he resisted the sorrow he felt so deeply—it was too deep and too wide, and he would drown if he let himself feel enough of it. Then his phone vibrated again. Sam wasn't giving up. And helpless anger made Dean suddenly shoot to his feet and throw his phone in blind fury. It hit the door frame and cracked in two, and Dean's rage faded to emptiness and powerlessness again. The stark hospital room seemed to jeer at him, mocking his pain with its clinical sterility.
Dean sank down into his seat again, ashamed of himself to the point that he didn't even feel worthy to sit there with Jamie. Guiltily, he studied the face of the woman he'd never even dreamed of having feelings for once upon a time. He didn't know how to explain it, even to himself: his feelings for her went deep. And he needed her to be okay.
He took a few seconds, then reached out and covered her cool, pale hand with his, studying the familiar tattoos that snaked up her arm to disappear underneath the flimsy hospital gown. It was a small comfort to be able to touch her, skin to skin. Hear her breathe. Watch the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He tightened his hand around hers, a pang hitting him at the feeling of how limp her fingers were. After months of trying and failing to find ways to bring her back… it really hurt to have her physically with him yet not there at all. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a few stark beep, beep, beep cycles of the heart rate monitor. "I really fuckin' tried, James." He watched her remain unresponsive and his heart continued to steadily crack in two. He wanted to beg her to come back. Beg her to not leave him. But he said nothing, instead torturing himself about what Abaddon had revealed: That he was a father. That Jamie had lied about the miscarriage. His mind had gone back to this over and over again since she'd first said it, debating whether it could be true or not. If Abaddon was fucking with him or not.
She'd succeeded in getting under his skin, that was for sure, leaving one single thought that kept him from sleeping and eating or doing anything else he so desperately needed to: If they did have a daughter, if she was out there somewhere for some reason unknown… how could he ever hope to keep her safe? He didn't even know a name.
Even as Dean remained with Jamie at that hospital, Abaddon had descended back into Hell, where she was working on being raised to her original vessel, Josie Sands—because she'd decided that while blondes had more fun, redheads got shit done. And she had quite the to-do list in front of her, starting with finding a certain baby girl who would provide the perfect revenge. Dean Winchester would regret ever pissing the future Queen of Hell off.
This time, Abaddon vowed to have the last laugh.