Song Remains the Same

by R. W. Winters

For Alex Winchester, normal has never been in the equation. Mute since the nursery fire, she grew up on the road chasing ghosts with her brothers and father. When her voice is inexplicably restored and the angel Castiel appears claiming to be her guardian, both of their lives change forever in ways that Heaven and Earth never expected. Castiel/OFC. Sisfic - S4-9 - Alternate Ending.

140. Touched By An Angel

Song Remains the Same

Chapter 140 / Touched By An Angel

"The saddest thing about betrayal…
is that it never comes from your enemies."
- Unknown

---

The Next Morning

Kevin Tran rubbed at his dry, irritated eyes. If he ever got out of this damn place, he swore he was gonna need glasses to see. His vision from staring at tablets and lore for hours every day was total trash these days—and so was his health, both physical and mental. Being a 'prophet of God' might have sounded cool to some in theory, but in reality, Kevin was miserable and didn't even know who he was anymore. The bright-eyed advanced-placement teen with dreams of a career in politics had crumbled away, leaving behind a twenty-one year old who was jaded, depressed, sad, and lonely. The only thing that really kept him going was the thought of someday, maybe being able to finish his prophet work and return back to normal life. But… if the Winchesters were any metric to measure by… he'd probably seen the last of 'normal' a long time ago.

He resisted the pit of despair that particular line of thought threatened to launch him into. Heaving a weary sigh, Kevin glanced at the clock across from the table he hunched over. It was just before eight in the morning—not that it really meant anything except he'd been sitting in this chair for over seven hours now. Time had lost all meaning to him at this point. In the bunker there were very few places with any natural light or views of the outside world, so his circadian rhythm was pretty much null and void for the past two plus months. Vaguely, he tried to remember the last time he'd eaten or had anything to drink. His body hurt from how sedentary he'd become—and he longingly remembered the days he'd taken for granted: Going for a walk 'just because' as he listened to nerdy podcasts. Worrying about exams and grades. Stressing over the thought of getting a summer job. Man. Thinking about who he used to be was sad and weird. Life no longer had room for anything but angels, demons, and terrifyingly high stake shit.

Dark eyes scanned over the overwhelming sea of papers, reference books, codexes, and ciphers scattered across the table in front of him and as usual, Kevin felt absolutely incapable of dealing with the lot in life he'd never asked for but couldn't escape. He plunked his elbows onto the solid oak table, moaned in exhausted frustration, then buried his face in his hands, trying to find some something that would make his current existence less wretched.

Presently, he heard the sound of someone approaching but didn't bother looking up to see who. The Winchester brothers and Bobby passed through the library a few times a day (when they were here at all). They didn't tend to talk to him unless they needed something from him—they sort of skirted around him guiltily the rest of the time. Sometimes Bobby sat with him and grunted a few things in his general direction, but other than that… nada. So Kevin was surprised when he heard whoever it was stop directly across from him—and then the sounds of objects being set down and a chair moving. Great. Bobby was either setting up shop, or someone wanted a favor. Already annoyed at whoever was sitting across from him, Kevin uncovered his face and then straightened, surprised to see Alex there. She'd set down a to-go coffee cup and a brown paper bag labeled 'Mia's Café & Donuts To Go!'

Confused—because she and Cas had returned with Sam and Bobby last night and Dean very tellingly hadn't—Kevin watched her nudge the items his way like they were meant for him. Used to eating soggy fast food leftovers or freezer food that Dean and Sam threw his way, Kevin was immediately suspicious. "What's this?" he asked dubiously. "Bribery?"

Her face showed slight surprise then hooded humor. "Can't I just get you a coffee and breakfast without an ulterior motive?"

Kevin didn't trust the lightheartedness. "Doubtful." He immediately regretted his sullen attitude and took a second to dig deep for a more polite response—he wasn't really in practice with being social anymore. He'd been running and hiding for too long. "Sorry, I'm... I'm just exhausted and this tablet is…" he trailed off because it was beyond words.

"Why do you think I brought you the joe?" Alex seemed understanding of his attitude, which was nice. At the very least, she didn't act offended at his frustration. "Take a break, Kev."

He immediately shook his head, eyes returning to the anxiety attack inducing pile of crap in front of him he had to sort through. "I can't." The thought of stopping even for a second made his stomach turn.

"You won't be good to anyone if you keel over," Alex countered. Kevin met her gaze reluctantly. "Five minutes? Just take your mind off things?" She nudged the bag at him again and he caught of whiff of something that smelled absolutely delicious. "Eat. I know the pickings around here are slim." He kept hesitating, maybe out of pride now. "Strawberry donut with sprinkles…" she enticed, making his mouth water and heart soften. "And a sausage egg and cheese biscuit sandwich…" she cajoled.

Okay, that sounded amazing. Kevin gave up on resisting and pulled the crinkling bag over. Inside he found everything that she'd said, plus mouthwateringly golden, salty hash browned tater tots. He noticed the label on the biscuit said vegetarian sausage. That caused him a slight pause—she'd very thoughtfully tried to honor his preferences… even if those preferences no longer really existed. He'd have to update her because life on the run meant he had to eat whatever was in front of him and he couldn't call himself a vegan or vegetarian anymore unfortunately. But this was a nice reminder of who he'd been before everything… and evidence that someone out there was thinking about him. "Thanks, Alex," he said softly, warmed by the thoughtful gesture of breakfast. She gave him a nod and a smile and he dug in with more eagerness than he thought he'd possessed. Mood lifting as he sampled the breakfast sandwich, the tots, the donut, the latte—it was all so good he felt like he had a new lease on life. And Kevin found himself smiling a little for the first time in awhile as the tasty meal hit the spot and relaxed him. "So are you and Cas moving back in?" he asked momentarily through a muffled mouthful.

A restrained smile twitched at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, think we are." Kevin nodded, a silent approval as he continued to chew another huge mouthful. He'd gathered that that Dean had kicked her out but had never really gotten more details. Alex watched him offhandedly as he wolfed down the breakfast sandwich. "So… I remembered right?" she asked, a mix of hopeful and cautious as he polished off the biscuit completely. At his questioning glance, a self-conscious affect showed through. "I feel pretty mixed up in the head since you know." She fidgeted in a brief flash of discomfort. "All the stuff that's happened." He wasn't sure if she meant fighting Leviathan, going to Purgatory, or being trapped in Heaven and thought dead, or being dead for real down in Hell. But yeah he figured all that would scramble his brains too.

"Yeah, you remembered right," he answered neutrally, still feeling guarded at her attempts to talk. He hadn't seen her at length in ages after all. Not really her fault, but still. A lot had changed since they'd seen each other last. "I pretty much eat whatever I have to these days but this is really nice." He figured that's where it would get left. He expected her to get up and walk off. So he was surprised as he took another bite of donut that Alex stayed right where she was and opened up.

"Honestly Kevin... I still feel bad. About you being on your own after the Dick Roman bullshit. About you getting tied up with Kyle or Zip or whatever we're calling him these days." Kevin's chewing slowed then stopped completely. Partly because the mention of Kyle stung. And also, was she for real? "It might not be worth much but… I wondered about you all the time," she continued, making his surprise grow. "And I really wish I'd been able to come find you sooner than I did. So, now, you know… I wanna make it right." Alex's regret really did come off as genuine and it took Kevin aback. She glanced at the stuff she'd brought. "And breakfast doesn't even come close, but it's a start, maybe."

Kevin studied her for a few heartbeats, trying to figure out the catch. His heart squeezed despite his effort not to feel touched. It had been so long since he'd felt it that way that for a minute, he didn't know how to reply at all. Funny enough, Kyle—the Leviathan originally known as Zip—had been the best friend to him out of anyone else since the role of prophet had come to call. Kevin remained suspicious of pretty much everyone, at all times. Including Alex. Part of him still thought this breakfast had to be for some ulterior motive. But he really wanted to believe someone cared about him just because again, like Kyle had. So he decided to try and push his skepticism aside. "T-thanks," he offered uncertainly. He'd always gotten the sense that she did really care about him beyond what use he offered her, so he tried to stay out of his more cynical mind. But he was quickly reminded about how he'd felt similarly positively about Sam too… until recently. "I'm glad you're back, Alex," Kevin said honestly, brushing his hurt feelings about Sam aside. "Not gonna lie, when I heard you were dead… it, it really sucked." To put it mildly. Even if she wasn't gone anymore, it had felt true enough for long enough that there was still trauma around the memory. Honestly, it made Kevin sink into sadness. Lost faces floated across his mind: Channing. Mom. And Kyle too. All at that monster Crowley's hands. His voice softened and eyes unfocused. "Feels like all I've done the last two years is watch people I care about bite the dust."

Sympathy rested across the table in eyes that understood. Alex was careful when she spoke. "Look… I'll be the first to say this life is a curse." She offered him an expression that seemed apprehensive and compassionate at once. "But you're not alone. Or at least… you don't have to be." Heart squeezing again, Kevin struggled not to get emotional. He wanted that to be true so badly. He wanted her to really mean that. Alex cleared her throat and stuck her hands into her jacket pockets, sitting back in the chair. Kevin noticed not for the first time how she was looking… bigger somehow. "Look, I do have something I wanna ask you about," she said, which made Kevin's thoughts freeze in place as he immediately darkened. So she did want to ask him to do something for her. He should have freakin' known. "Sam," she clarified. "Have you… noticed anything strange about him lately?"

…Oh. Kevin was mildly relieved. Maybe she wasn't gonna ask favors or make him do some extraneous research mission.

"I mean… I spend most of my time here with all this crap," he answered honestly, indicating the tablet and then placing a tater tot into his mouth. Even as the salty morsel crunched satisfyingly, he realized that he had no idea how much Alex knew—the Winchesters were obviously on the rocks right now as a family unit, and she had been off with Cas somewhere for the past two months. So maybe she didn't have all the information. "You already know about his memory gaps, right? Dean says it's a side effect from the trials."

"Yeah." She remained quietly intense. "So you haven't seen anything he's done that made you feel suspicious or unsafe?"

Something about the look in her eye paired with the way she worded the question made Kevin go stiller and more quiet. "Why? What do you think's going on?"

She shook her head, giving off the vibe that she was both suspicious and wary. "I have no idea, but it is something. And Dean knows more than he's saying." Her irritation showed through as she said this next part to no one in particular: "Which is maybe why he won't answer his G-D phone."

Kevin watched for a thoughtful second. All he knew was that shortly after he had arrived at an empty bunker a couple months ago after the angels fell, Dean and Sam had reappeared just the two of them. And when Alex and Cas tried to join in a few days later, Dean had kicked them out sight unseen due to 'angel danger' (his words, not Kevin's). Then just a few days ago Dean had surprised all of the Bunker residents when he went rogue and busted Crowley and Meg out. So something was definitely weird and untrustworthy with Dean—but Sam too? It was easy to see how deadly serious Alex felt about something being off with her twin. It made Kevin apprehensive. Maybe Sam had been different. Kevin had barely been paying attention. He had been too busy trying to deal with his own mountain of problems. "What are you gonna do about Sam?" he asked quietly.

Her reply was firm and low. "Investigate." Her eyes flicked to his meaningfully. "And keep this between us, will you?"

Nodding, feeling a sense of camaraderie he hadn't expected, Kevin agreed. "Sure. Of course."

She hesitated then broached a subject they hadn't discussed yet. "Hey and uh—Sam told me about what happened to your mom while I was gone." Kevin's raw pain was immediate. "I'm so sorry Kev. Wish I got to meet her."

Any mention of his late mother always took Kevin straight back to that state of helpless, guilty, soul-crushing sorrow. The feeling of failing her… the feeling of shame that he was part of the reason for her fate… it ate him alive. And if Sam had told Alex what happened (Crowley capturing, torturing, then killing Linda Tran while Kevin listened over the phone), she would then understand what he said next: "Do you know how hard it's been to have Crowley here?" Hatred boiled in his veins when he thought of the demon who had taken his mom's life. "All I could think about doing every day was going down there and stabbing him a thousand times." And he almost had. But every time he'd resolved to go gut that slimy bastard… he'd forced himself to be patient and believe Dean's words about how Crowley was more use alive rather than dead.

Now, the opportunity for easy revenge was gone and Kevin was left to kick himself for squandering what was probably his only real chance.

There was a bittersweet, conspiratorial smile from across the table. "Well next time we see him… I'll hold, you stab."

Surprising himself, Kevin found himself shaking his head as a weak little laugh accompanied a sad smile full of chagrin. Sam had stopped attempting conversation a month or so ago with him, Bobby only grunted a few words here and there, and Dean was always barking commands or making Kevin feel bad about something. It was nice to just talk to someone again. And he really found himself hoping that Alex wouldn't leave the Bunker again. Alex's expression grew somber once more as she studied him. "Is there anything I can do, Kevin?"

Well. Actually… Kevin scratched at his neck self-consciously. He wondered if he should admit to this. What the hell, right? "Yeah um… well… so, I might've talked to Crowley this one time when he was being held here…"

Dean's reaction would have been to immediately hit the roof. Sam probably would have withered. But Alex's eyebrows raised slightly and she reserved judgment. "Well that's never a good idea…"

Kevin wet his lips. She wasn't wrong. "He… he told me my mom's not dead. Said if I broke him out of here he'd give her back to me. He's probably lying, right?" The prophet hesitated, torn as always about this and trying to get a feel for what Alex thought. "But there's always the chance he's not." His mood darkened into resentful and bitter territory. "I was gonna go find out for myself… but Dean stopped me. Said it's too dangerous out there. That all the angels and demons are gunning for me. And he said if she is somehow still alive… she's not alive anymore like you and me." There was a sour taste in his mouth as he remembered the encounter that had left him with tears running down his face. "And then you know what he said? He told me I'm family." It hadn't been a good moment for Kevin at all—it was more comparable to pouring salt into his wound. And he needed to tell someone. "You know how that made me feel? Like crap, Alex. Because what kind of family isn't gonna lift a finger to help me maybe save my mom? If I'm family, then she is too. And isn't that what your family does? Save people? Why not my mom?" Kevin was shaking at this point—surprising himself with how much suppressed emotion had just welled up out of him.

Alex digested with a confounded expression. "…Does Sam not know about this? About your mom maybe being alive?"

Another instance of bitterness ran through Kevin. "Yeah. But he never said a word about it to me."

Alex immediately seemed to find his words suspect. "That… doesn't sound right."

Kevin scoffed cynically. "You sure? 'Cause to me, it's the status quo." He didn't care anymore about being polite or saving feelings or trying not to stir a pot. And Alex looked sad and conflicted about his assessment. Kevin exhaled long and hard, gesturing broadly at his work. "Look, I get priorities. This stupid rock needs to be translated. And I'm the only one who can do it." But he often wondered if anyone here realized what a task it was. His eyes began to tear up. "Do you understand how much pressure that is? How hard this is, how lonely? How tired I am? How I've lost everyone?!" Inside his chest, it felt like his heart was cracking in half. "And what's waiting for me on the other side? Nothing! No one." He stood in a sudden burst and angrily dashed away a tear on his cheek. "I got my girlfriend killed, my mom, and my… my one real friend." He shook his head, attempting to be tough as he put his back to her for a second and composed himself a couple feet off from the table. "Look, I know Dean's not wrong about the danger. Or how important reversing this spell is. But if it was his mom—your mom—" he turned around to face her and saw that she'd stood up too. Kevin didn't bother hiding his despair, his resentment, his deep pain… or how alone he felt. His voice broke as he managed this last part: "All he did was say he wouldn't stop me from going to try and find her. But he also wouldn't go with me."

Alex considered him for a long couple of seconds. Then floored him with her simple response: "Well, I will."

Wait. "…W-what?" he asked, thinking he'd surely misheard. Alex began rounding the table to come stand closer to him. "What about all this?" Kevin questioned, gesturing to the table full of work, not understanding but daring to hope as his breathing became faster and faster. "W-what about me staying safe?"

Alex stopped a couple feet off from him. "One: are you forgetting how long you made it on your own out there?" He had to pause because yeah, he kind of had forgotten that. "You're more of a badass than you give yourself credit for." Surprised and flattered at the assessment, Kevin found himself disconcerted but in a surprisingly good way. "Two: Dean's right. You are family, Kevin. So if Linda's alive, we're gonna find out." Kevin's face must have really been doing something, because Alex grew a little unsure and offered her arms to him hesitantly. "Hug?"

Kevin nodded, already meeting her halfway in a crashing embrace. His adrenaline was going wild because he was gonna find out in his mother was still alive…! And if she was, Kevin would do anything to get her safe again and protect her. Feeling alive in a way that he hadn't in ages, he yanked back from the embrace eagerly. "How do we start?"

Alex had a little knowing smile on her face. "Well. Meg has a lot of intel on the King's favorite places to store prisoners." She gave him a meaningful look. "And she likes me for some reason plus hates Crowley, so…" she nodded to herself, eyes off in thought. "We'll start there. I'll gather up the stuff to summon her today. See what we can find out."

Kevin nodded readily, beside himself, trusting that with Alex's know-how they'd find out the truth. "I know the ingredients, I'll get them together for you," he said, because the bunker had a pretty good storehouse of elements, including everything needed to summon a demon. He was dazed—this was actually gonna happen! A few minutes ago he'd been resigned to the fact that he would never know his mother's fate. And now, he had relentless hope again the likes of which he hadn't felt in forever. "Thank you," he repeated, suddenly so emotional he could cry. He grabbed her again for a big hug, clutching onto her hard so she would know how much he meant it. "Thank you." He distantly thought her stomach felt strangely hard and full to him—and he wondered, briefly—then pushed the thought away. Not his business to speculate.

Just then, the sound of approach caused Kevin and Alex's embrace to end.

"Hey guys, everything good?"

A few paces away Sam appeared surprised to see the tail end of the hug, wondering what it was for. The middle Winchester looked kind of unwell—a little paler and less bright eyed than usual, like he was feeling under the weather.

"We're gonna find out if my mom's still alive," Kevin announced proudly, unable to help but grin.

Sam immediately looked confused. "Wait, what? Still alive?" he looked from Kevin to Alex then back again, lost. "But you said she died."

Kevin was immediately thrown off. "Don't act like you don't know, Sam—I saw Dean tell you!" he accused, not understanding why the hunter would even play such a hurtful mind game.

But Sam still looked absolutely, convincingly shocked and appalled. "When? I—I don't remember." He'd even become a little paler. From all appearances (unless he was a great actor), he really didn't know what Kevin was referring to. And that's when the prophet realized… this must be one of Sam's memory gaps. Kevin's mouth dropped open a little as he made that connection.

"I'm serious," Sam entreated, visibly more insecure with every second. "Fill me in. Please."

Kevin gave Alex a significant sidelong look. "Remember when you were asking if I'd seen anything weird?" he muttered under his breath at her before his eyes slid back to Sam. Exhibit A.

A few feet off from them, Sam waited with daunted apprehension. Alex deliberated with a terse expression, then indicated the table. "Let's all sit down, shall we?"

---

A short time later, Sam trailed Alex into the kitchen.

"So you think Meg will be able to help?" he asked, unconvinced. "And actually go for it too?"

With a shrug, Alex began to bang through the industrial-style storage cabinets, looking for a water glass. "It's worth a shot. She doesn't exactly love Crowley, does she? And she was tortured by him for awhile. She knows where he operates. How he operates." Sam watched her fruitless search for a few seconds then went straight to the cabinet that would be last in the search. He grabbed a glass and handed it over intuitively, receiving a smile in return. "Thanks." Alex contemplated him and paused, concern yet again filtering over her face. But this time she actually said something about it: "You… really don't look so good."

He'd taken up a lean against the nearby stainless steel island counter with crossed arms and a blank expression. He nodded tiredly, his eyes flighty and unfocused, revealing how deep in stress he was. "Yeah I don't feel so good either," he admitted reluctantly. "Since yesterday. What was that? How could Crowley have erased all our minds like that? Do you buy it?" Questions bothering Alex too. They were all suspicious and dubious about why none of them remembered anything about the apparent showdown that had happened. Dean had taken Jamie somewhere and was now yet again missing and unreachable. Add to that Sam's current and obvious physical illness, and not for the first time, Alex's instincts whispered something's majorly wrong here. All she could do to answer her brother was shake her head in a silent I dunno.

She turned her back and discreetly poured special water into the glass from her flask, glancing at Sam with thinly veiled worry. Quite honestly her resentful feelings toward Dean were growing as well as the blame she felt for letting herself and Cas get kicked out of here two months ago. While the time with her newly human angel had felt very essential then, it now felt like she'd shirked her responsibilities. Kevin needed someone in his corner, Sam was flagging mentally and physically, and Dean was obviously keeping secrets. Whatever those secrets were, Alex had resolved to find out come hell or high water. But she had to admit to herself: she was petrified to discover the truth. Dread built with every passing day. Forcefully brushing those thoughts aside, she offered her twin the glass she'd just poured. "Have some water, Sammy."

"Thanks." He accepted the water and took a drink without hesitation, eyes lost in thought. "It's like… I don't even know what's going on anymore. I'm freaked out." He glanced at Alex and found her watching him so closely that he frowned. "…What?"

She shook her head, not telling him for now anyway, that he'd just had a nice big sip of a special holy water and trace-amount silver cocktail she'd made late last night—a subtle test to make sure he was really him. Just in case. Because at this point with all the unexplained shit going on, she had to check all her bases. "Nothing, just thinking." Her senses warned her to be very careful around Sam right now. At the very least, she could admit this much: "Something's just not right here." With a frustrated exhale, she leaned beside him, mimicking his stance.

"I know." Sam sounded just as disturbed as she was and they fell into a brief, thoughtful silence. "…Should we be looking for Dad?" he asked after a minute, guilt and doubt coloring his tone. "I mean if we're gonna look for Linda…" he trailed off questioningly.

A thin smile weakly graced Alex's face briefly. She understood the urge but: "I don't think so Sam. When John Winchester doesn't wanna be found… don't waste your time." Hadn't they learned that enough times already?

Glum, Sam's jaw held tensely and he breathed out a charged exhale from his nose. "You're right," he admitted. Alex recognized the rejected tone in his voice and sympathized deeply. It hurt a lot that their father had done what he always did. Sam cleared his throat and switched tracks. "Look, I wanna help find out about Linda either way." His ghostly features tightened with guilt. "I can't believe I just forgot that she might still be alive. Makes me feel like trash."

Alex hated the hurt and pain in his voice. "I don't think you can blame yourself for something outta your control, big brother," she counseled sadly. He tried to be optimistic, but instead he looked drawn and physically ill. Hesitant to ask but needing to just the same, Alex contemplated him gently. "You sure you're up to helping out?"

Wounded hazel eyes met her waiting gaze. "You don't think I'm strong enough."

Alex put a caring hand onto his back. "I'm just worried about you."

Sam considered her with a weary exhale. "Well I'm worried about me too," he conceded reluctantly. "But I can't just sit around, right?"

No, she guessed not. It just sucked so bad to witness how terrible he felt. And Alex found herself wishing for Dean's presence, like in their old times. When he always knew what to say and how to make them both feel better. How to instill hope into a hopeless moment.

A soft sound caused the twins to look up at movement in one of the kitchen entrances. Cas smiled a silent hello and lingered in the doorway, waiting for permission to intrude. "Hey, Cas," Sam greeted with a small, strained smile.

"Good morning. How are you feeling today, Sam?" Cas approached—he wore Dean's clothes since he'd run out of clean clothes of his own (everything else was still back at his and Alex's apartment). It was an odd effect, but at the very least, the stuff fit well.

Sam sighed gustily and stood up, running a haggard hand through his hair. "Pretty tired. Confused. I just really wanna figure out what happened yesterday."

Cas nodded with appropriate concern. "I think we all do." The fallen angel turned his attention to Alex, greeting her with a little smile and very brief kiss hello, even though they had probably only been apart for thirty minutes or so.

Sam turned his back for a second—intending to just give them a bit of space—and then unseen by them he was gone in a flash, replaced by a very angry Gadreel, who could not stand to be near Castiel. Alex was bad enough—too observant, too watchful, too obviously onto him somehow. And as if she weren't bad enough, Castiel would only present more risk of discovery. Gadreel knew that he was quickly losing control—that his alliance with Dean was over since the man wasn't even around anymore. So he finally made the decision he'd been contemplating for some time now. He heard the frown on the sister's voice without even seeing it. "Sam? What's wrong?" she asked behind him somewhere.

Withering—how did she do that? How did she immediately know something was wrong?—Gadreel shook his head and tried his best to sound like Sam would. "Nothing, I am fine. I am going outside for some air." And he left without turning around or making eye contact.

Disconcerted and suspicious, Alex stared after her brother's retreating familiar build with narrowed eyes.

"What is it?" Cas asked, seeing her expression and recognizing the significance of it.

Alex shook her head slowly and kept her voice to a low, covert volume. Her eyes stayed on the space Sam had last occupied. "I dunno it's just like… sometimes he doesn't even really sound like himself." It was only a couple times, but she'd caught him saying things or posturing in ways that just seemed… really wrong. She didn't know how else to explain.

Cas glanced at her flask nearby before his gaze meaningfully came back to hers. His voice lowered. "Did you give him the water?"

Alex's hazel eyes met his cobalt and a thin, terse expression rested across her features. "Yeah. No reaction. So go ahead and cross shifter, demon, or ghoul off the list." They exchanged a significant glance and Alex's eyes went to the small, almost unnoticeable security camera installed at the topmost corner of the kitchen. "I need to see if these cameras are still working or not." And to do that, she'd need to find out where the feed went to—if there even was one. She still hadn't explored the entire bunker, and now seemed as good a time as any while Kevin gathered the materials to summon Meg. Growing focused on finding answers, Alex gave Cas a distracted smile she had to dig deep for. "Care to join me on a wild goose chase?"

There was a confused frown. "…What do geese have to do with anything?"

Briefly forgetting the stakes because of his unintentional comedic timing, Alex chuckled his way, pressed into his space, and kissed him briefly. This time, she didn't have to dig deep for the smile on her face. For a minute, she relaxed in arms that readily held her as always. "Never change, Cas. Never change."

"I'm guessing it's a figure of speech referring to something being a bit difficult and perhaps odd," Cas surmised, but from the soft gaze and smile, it was obvious he was only thinking of how much he loved her.

---

Gadreel slunk into the outside world, his darting eyes giving away his nervousness to be caught. In the tree line across the small open space in front of the Bunker, he saw a small man lurking. Metatron. Gadreel let Sam's long legs hurry him across the space separating them.

"You rang?" the Scribe asked casually as Gadreel came to a stop a couple feet off. "Well, don't keep me in the dark. Are you done playing hard to get?"

Despite his conviction that this was the only choice left for him that made sense, Gadreel was nervous and stiff. However he didn't let it show. "Yes. I've made my decision." He drew himself up. "And I will join you as second in command."

A toothy, surprised grin popped across Metatron's ordinary human face. "Bravo, Gadreel! I'm ecstatic to hear it, my friend!" With a pleased, proud nod, Metatron made promises that could lift the heaviest of hearts. "This move will erase the mark that has hounded you through the centuries. Heaven will be restored, as will your reputation as one of its greatest heroes."

Words that truly did bring a deeply relieved smile to Gadreel's face. "I thank you sincerely for this opportunity—I will not let you down," he vowed, dreams of being respected and loved once more filling his mind.

And then Metatron hesitated in such a way that Gadreel faltered. "There is just one more thing…" the scribe said delicately. "I need to be sure of your… fidelity."

Confused and immediately afraid to lose his chance at redemption, Gadreel's features pinched with alarm. "You have it."

"No, I mean really sure," Metatron reiterated then stepped a bit closer, glancing around surreptitiously. "We have… enemies who pose an imminent threat to our effort. They must be neutralized."

Terrible understanding dawned. "You mean… slain."

"Unfortunately yes," Metatron confirmed with appropriate amounts of regret. Overcome with objections, Gadreel remained silent. He was against killing unless in self-defense or at a command straight from God. What could Metatron possibly have in mind?

"I think we both know great sacrifice is required for great change, Gadreel," the scribe intoned grimly. "Have you heard tales of the Nephilim?"

"Yes of course, a child borne of angel and human," Gadreel replied then went stock still as he realized. Doubly stunned, the angel struggled to grasp what was being asked of him. "You want me to… kill Castiel's child?" he asked, appalled at the thought. Surely that couldn't be what Metatron was asking.

"Well, I want you to kill both—mother and child," Metatron replied, causing Gadreel further astounded dismay. "Two birds with one stone, or however that saying goes." He grew incredibly grave. "If that baby is born, he, she, or they will be very bad news for us eventually, understand? Too powerful to stand against. It complicates things far too much."

Even if that were true… Gadreel remained aghast. "But why the sister too?"

Metatron almost became patronizing. "Well I'd have thought this one was obvious. You're in her twin brother's body. This is the Winchester family we're talking about—you really think she'll let you stay there in that mighty fine vessel once she finds out the truth?" Gadreel's disquiet grew. The scribe had a very strong point. But that also meant… "Yeah," Metatron confirmed, seeing Gadreel's thoughts easily. "That's right. You're gonna need to kill Dean at some point too. And hell, that slippery little prophet Kevin and Castiel eventually too. But look. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just start with the pregnant woman, shall we?" He gave Gadreel far too pleasant of a smile. "I'll believe you're with me when she's dead." At the remaining strife on Gadreel's face, Metatron sighed with abrupt disappointment. "Don't tell me you're losing sight now, Gadreel. It may be regrettable but consider eternity. A few small, human lives mean nothing in the grand scale of infinity." It was a tempting stance to take. And Gadreel considered it apprehensively.

"Prove yourself worthy of second in command status," Metatron urged, then stepped back and studied the lower angel with veiled eyes. "Call me when it's done." With nothing further, the scribe disappeared into thin air, leaving Gadreel to yearn for the day when he, too, would be able to use his wings again.

In the coolness of morning air, the fugitive angel considered the task he'd been given: killing the mother and the child both to prove his loyalty. Could he bring himself to do such a thing? It would not be easy. He mulled over his mistakes of the past as he so very often did. Allowing himself to be tricked by Lucifer had set off an unforgivable series of events: the formation of Hell, humanity's corruption, and the creation of demons.

Metatron was offering what Gadreel would never be given again: a clean slate. A new beginning. A place in Heaven where he could be the angel he had spent a lifetime dreaming he could be. And if the only thing that stood in the way between that and running forever was a few small human lives and an unborn Nephilim… well.

Gadreel thought it should be an easy choice. However, it still wasn't. And his eyes slid to the entrance of the bunker guiltily as he considered what to do.

---

Later That Day

Alex hurried up the steely gray main hallway with a fast-beating heart, unable to reach the library area quick enough. Her thoughts were spiraling and urgent, and every other thing she'd been working on didn't matter right now at all. She found the library empty but saw a small group gathered in the main control room and made a beeline there, stopping short when she realized Sam was one of the ones sitting at the table. Kevin, Cas, Bobby, and her twin brother all looked up at her arrival from the materials they'd been studying. Alex forced a casual smile.

"Hey, Cas, um—can I grab you for a sec?" she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder and trying very hard to sound inconspicuous and not stare lasers at Sam… because she'd just spent the past two hours reviewing discombobulated bunker footage of her brothers from the past two months. At first it had been boring and fruitless and she'd sent Cas off to go do whatever he wanted instead of sitting there staring at a screen with her. About forty minutes after he left, right before she'd almost been lulled to sleep… she'd stumbled onto some footage that was disturbing to say the least. And she needed a second opinion now.

Even as Cas was rising up from his seat and abandoning whatever he'd been reading, the main doorway on the second floor above slammed open loudly, drawing everyone's surprised eyes.

"Dean!" Cas breathed as the familiar hunter entered and briefly looked down from the catwalk at his audience grudgingly. No one even remembered seeing him yesterday because of the memory wipe. With that in mind, it was the first time Alex had laid eyes on him since that bar in Iowa. With no reply to Cas's surprised greeting or the questioning eyes aimed his way, Dean descended the metal stairway with a distinctly avoidant energy.

Alex gaped at his sudden reappearance. "Where the hell have you been?" She ambushed him at the bottom of the stairs, determined not to let him slip through her fingers again—trying to see through him while hovering between concerned and angry. "You forget how to dial out?"

"Phone broke," he said brusquely, dodging her intense eyes. "I'm just here to grab some stuff. Looks like I'm setting up camp with James at the hospital." Cas arrived to stand beside Alex and Dean did a double take when he noticed. "…Dude, are you wearing my clothes?"

Cas didn't reply. "What are the doctors saying about her condition?"

That got a real response. There was a pessimistic shake of the head and Dean's energy dipped. "It's not good, I'll tell you that much." And he was obviously really upset about it too. He brushed past them, heading for a passageway, which only disgruntled Alex further. He was just gonna barge in here and not clue them in? Not tell them what was going on? She was already on his heels.

"Dean, we've been worrying about you both—you don't have anything else to say?" Her temper was rising fast.

His reply was both curt and catty. "Kinda in a hurry, Al, and if I'm remembering right, you're still not speaking to me, so."

She managed to get in front of him right at the hallway entrance, blocking his escape. "I'm talking to you right now! What is going on with you?" she demanded, equal parts pissed and worried.

Dean was apparently ready to fight. "Gee, I dunno, my girlfriend's in a coma and everything else is total shit too—what, you want me cracking jokes or something?" He attempted to sidestep her in foul impatience. "I need to get my stuff."

Alex went with his movement, smacking her palm to his chest and stopping him hard. Her eyes conveyed her deadly seriousness. "You need to tell me what is going on here," she retorted in a near-whisper that trembled low. She was quiet enough that only he could hear. Because she was onto the fact that he knew way more than he was saying after seeing that footage. "What the fuck did you do to our brother?" she demanded, again so low only he could hear.

For a second, surprise showed. Then his walls slammed down and he rolled his eyes to invalidate her. "Dunno what you're talking about, dude. Outta my way." And he pushed past roughly, jostling her for effect, which made Alex go even colder with anger. But she didn't pursue him. She just boiled in place as disbelief and resentment surged.

Quietly watchful, Cas approached and touched Alex softly on the shoulder, then met her hurt gaze with understanding. "I'll see if I can talk to him." And he went after Dean, leaving an appalled Alex behind who could only focus on one thing: 'Sam' hadn't even budged from his seat or appeared emotionally involved whatsoever.

Alex turned her full, apprehensive attention to him. He was already looking at her and his face bore a chilling affect—a dark guard. A silent intention. And an unspoken danger. Like he already knew what she was thinking. Like he'd been caught.

And she could either shrink away, or stop this charade today. She chose the latter. Alex crossed her arms and drifted closer, her sharp eyes on him the entire time. At the opposite end of the table, Bobby and Kevin appeared mutually uncomfortable at the interaction that had just transpired. Little did they know, it was about to get a whole lot more uncomfortable.

"Sam?" Alex prompted in too calm of a voice. "Awfully quiet." She stopped a safe distance off, closer than Kevin and Bobby were, but still far enough away that she could get away if he suddenly lunged up. She studied him closely, fear for her brother turning her veins to ice and making her pulse hammer wildly. "You don't have anything to say?"

He visibly understood he was being tested. He stood slowly and Alex tensed, her senses screaming.

"Alex." Sam took a step closer, testing her right back. She didn't recoil, but her muscles tensed even further. Thoughtful and apprehensive, he met her gaze readily. "Allow me to ask you something, little sister: Do you truly believe the ends justify the means?" His cadence and delivery was soft, stilted, and wrong—but he seemed genuine about his question. Vulnerable somehow. "Is it morally acceptable to kill someone if it will accomplish great things?"

"Why?" she returned softly, dangerously. "Who are you thinking about killing?" Bobby and Kevin watched, mystified but getting the idea that something here was not quite right. Alex's gaze didn't back down underneath Sam's as she revealed that she knew Sam wasn't entirely himself: "I've been watching some security footage from around here for the past couple hours. And unless Sam suddenly developed some kind of multiple personality disorder, complete with flashing eyes when he changes over… well, I think we have an unwelcome house guest." Her voice suddenly became rough and demanding as her arms uncrossed. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

Sam's face showed a strangely conflicted respect. "You truly are too insightful for your own good," he said, uncrossing his arms as well. His face grew dark and stormy, regret mounting. "And I am sorry that I must do this, Alex Winchester."

Commotion broke out. Bobby shot to his feet as he understood something bad was happening, but Sam's hand flashed out in tandem, sending the hunter flying backward telekinetically as Kevin's eyes went wide as saucers and he squeaked. Sam's hand began to shoot toward the panicking prophet, but Alex leapt forward and grabbed him hard by the wrist then yanked with an amount of strength that visibly shocked her opponent. Even as he gaped, Alex punched him in the face, knocking him back a few feet in a stumble. Kevin scrambled for cover as Gadreel recovered from his brief gaze, grabbing Alex and attempting to slam his palm to her forehead—but her hand caught his wrist in a grip like iron and held his hand frozen in the air despite his valiant struggle… then with bared teeth and a grunt, she slowly began to push his hand back. Shocked at just how much supernatural strength she had, Sam's features screwed into a stunned, fearful frown as Gadreel realized he was in over his head. That he should have taken his chance to kill her instead of remaining in silent moral dilemma all day.

Alex's fury was palpable. "Get out of my brother!" she shouted, then pulled a wrestling move in lightning fast speed: a twist of his arm, a pivot on her feet, a knee shoved into the back of his knee—and he went down face-first with her following his fall, an arm already tight around his neck in a vice-like chokehold he struggled and wheezed against helplessly. "Who are you?!" she demanded again, voice shaking as he kept him down and slowly choked him out toward unconsciousness.

Dean and Cas reappeared, skidding to a stop with shocked faces even as Kevin was pulling a stunned Bobby to his feet. Seeing how he was outnumbered, Sam's face registered utter panic as Gadreel remained trapped in place by Alex's pregnancy-fueled super strength. Driven by self-preservation and the need to escape the chokehold he was growing woozy under, the angel opened Sam's mouth and bellowed, escaping as a surge of white light that seared out blindingly.

Even as Dean's face registered horrified understanding, Cas was running toward the twins at top speed. Even as the light stopped pouring out and Sam's body went briefly slack, Alex let go of him, panting and shaken. Cas almost crashed into her as he came to a sliding stop on his knees. He asked her if she was all right repeatedly in alarm, and she gave a dazed yes fine, trying to check on Sam who was wild-eyed and disoriented, totally clueless—because last he remembered, he'd been in the kitchen with Cas and Alex—now he'd come to with his sister choking him.

"What happened?" he demanded, shoving himself away from his sister with an absolutely insane, scared expression that he began to sweep the entire room with. He sagged against the metal support beam his back hit up against and his voice raised to a bellow as his terror only grew. "What's going on?!"

Even as Alex was trying to reach out and calm down her panicking twin, Bobby piped up: "Someone wanna explain what in creation's goin' on here?!" His cap was sideways and his expression was absolutely gobsmacked. Beside him, Kevin was just as alarmed and confused.

"He was possessed!" Alex insisted, just as shaken up as everyone else. She tried to explain it the best she knew how: "I saw it on the security archives, there was someone or something in him!"

"Is… is that why he had memory gaps?" Kevin breathed in dismayed wonder. Sam's face went colorless at the very astute question.

"It was an angel possessing him," Cas breathed, realizing what the white light had been.

"W-what?" Still reeling on the floor, Sam shook his head repeatedly. "I didn't know," he managed, his voice trembling. "You gotta believe me, I, I didn't know!"

Agonized, Alex looked up at a very silent, very conscience-stricken Dean from where Cas held her on the floor. And seeing the accusing, betrayed look in her eyes, Cas's jaw dropped as his eyes flew to look at Dean with an absolutely broken heart. "Did you?"

Underneath the betrayed gazes of the entire room, Dean was uncharacteristically subdued… confirming his role in what happened before he even said a word. "Look—t-those trials really messed him up, like in-a-coma for the rest of his life messed up," he began, eyes shifty and voice weak in the face of everyone's astounded, growing wrath. "No more birthdays—dust to dust, ashes to ashes—understand?" Sam gaped with growing horror as Dean remained meek, ill, and regretful. "What was I supposed to do, accept that? I… I didn't know what else to do. So I made a risky call." His grim, dread-filled gaze limped to Sam's disbelieving, hurt eyes. "And I let an angel in. He said he could heal you, Sam—and he did." His voice fell and lost strength. "Ish."

Sam could momentarily find no reply at all.

"Was it Ezekiel?" Alex pressed harshly, finding her voice again as she landed on a very plausible theory she couldn't believe she'd only just considered. "The one you said healed him and left?"

Shamefaced, Dean's gaze dodged hers. "Yeah." A single word that drove the knife even deeper.

"…How?" Sam begged, still too shocked to speak with any strength. Or for that matter move from where he was still in a stunned crumple against that metal pole. "I never said yes to him, I would remember that!" he protested. "I never even met the guy!"

Dean's quiet shame only deepened. "Yeah well… I helped trick you." Everyone in the room was absolutely silent and horrified. The oldest Winchester hung his head, having a hard time speaking again. "I—I'm sorry," he whispered pitifully, struggling to hold himself together. "I shoulda told you from the start, Sam. I was just too scared you'd… you'd be okay with dying." He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. His voice wavered on humiliated, defeated self-contempt. "I'm a selfish bastard. I know."

Sam shook his head blankly as hurt, disbelieving tears began to gather. "How could you do this to me, Dean?" A question asked from a broken, misled heart.

And Dean could visibly say nothing—the consequences of his actions were hitting him full force. At her twin's side, Alex was almost as hurt and shocked as Sam was. Kevin's face had paled, Bobby had grown dark like a storm cloud, and Cas was cold with growing fury as they all digested this terrible truth.

"'Kay so riddle me this," Bobby muttered wrathfully. "What happened yesterday with Crowley and Meg that we all conveniently don't remember?" The implication was clear: Bobby now suspected Dean by way of complicity.

Remorseful and caught, Dean took a tortured second. "Ezekiel expelled Abaddon outta Jamie. And I let Crowley loose as a distraction." He couldn't look at anyone at this point. "But Meg saw the halo around Sam's head when Zeke took the driver's seat and she blabbed. So he erased everyone's memory of what happened. That's why you're not feeling so good, Sam. All that crap that went down weakened you again." Visibly ill, Dean looked like he might cry too. "I'm sorry, it got outta control, you gotta believe I wasn't trying t—"

He didn't finish the sentence because Cas had gotten up, charged across the short distance, and punched the other man wildly across the face, knocking him back into the control console nearby. Cas held Dean there by two fistfuls of jacket, his anger primal and unrestrained. "Because of you, a rogue angel almost just murdered my wife and child!" he shouted, seething at his friend's actions. At his side, Alex had rushed to him and had a warning hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to back off. Sam had stood up too, but lingered far away with fists clenched at his sides. Cas didn't hit Dean again, but he did leave him with a scathing judgment before letting go with a rough shove: "You've gone too far this time, Dean Winchester."

But Dean visibly only had heard one thing. His expression was startled and hurt, and he didn't peel himself off the console. He stayed sprawled on his elbows in place, his vehemently confused, green eyes on his sister—and then her stomach—and then her face again. "…What's he talking about?" He was barely audible even as he visibly put it all together: The baggy clothes, the thicker appearance, the cravings and sickness when Sam had been completing the trials. "Y-you're pregnant?"

The brother and sister's faces were near perfect mirrors in that moment: shining eyes full of betrayed pain and disbelief. Alex shook her head shallowly and didn't answer his question right away. She was too dazed as it all began to line up, the questions that had previously kept her up at night. "Makes sense now," she managed in the most crestfallen tone. "Why you sent us away. Why you've been so fucking weird." Her face worked valiantly as grief began to build. "I can't believe you would do this, Dean!" Heartbreak made her tone waver as her world crashed down—as her ability to trust her oldest brother went to zero. "And keep it going for two months? Lying to everyone? Letting some angel you don't even know have access to Sam's thoughts and memories, and people?" This was when her anger truly began to surge at his reckless, insane pattern of choices. "You put everyone at risk because you didn't wanna tell the truth and be held accountable!" she accused, appalled disgust making her look at him in such a way, it was like she didn't know who he was anymore. "Since when are you such a goddamn coward?" Dean's sagging shoulders grew even lower. Alex's anger wanted her to roast him alive, while her heartbreak cast her deep into a sudden depression that left her without any fire at all. "Are we supposed to trust you ever again after this?" she asked softly. By now, her cheeks were streaked. He finally met her eyes and then deliberately straightened himself to stand remorsefully. For a really long moment, the two of them said nothing aloud, and communicated by expression only—a callback to the way things used to be.

She could see how he was begging for understanding and forgiveness, but how was she supposed to even consider that? His lies could have cost her not only her own life, but the one growing inside of her too. And that was the greatest treason of all. That was what tore her to shreds inside. "Yes, I am pregnant," she admitted, the tears coming in earnest now. Because this was not how she'd pictured the moment of telling her big brother he was gonna be an uncle. Dean's face crumpled as it visibly hit him: the damage he'd done—the distance he'd sown. Alex was barely able to speak against the lump rising in her throat. "And you would've known that if you weren't living a lie." It was absolutely shattering, and more than anything, it hurt. There was no way to undo what had been done, and she didn't know how to accept it either. "I really didn't want you to find out like this," she whispered through tears as she mourned the moment they would now never have. His eyes reflected back similar sentiment, which only made the wound sting more. "I wanted to tell you" she whispered mournfully. "And for you to be happy. And for us to all just be a family." Beside Alex, she felt Cas's presence. His soothing, sad hands gently touching her in silent support. "Tell me how to be a family with someone who would take away Sam's choice," she begged. "Tell me how to be family with someone who would lie to the only people he is never supposed to lie to!"

Her hand came to press against her burgeoning stomach protectively. Today had changed things, no matter how much she wanted to refuse that they had. "Right now, I gotta be honest." Her jaw trembled as she tried to hold herself together. Dean needed to know exactly how terrible what he'd done was. "I don't want this kid to have anything to do with you. Because I don't what you're capable of anymore."

Dean shook his head no really soft and slow, gut-punched. "Don't say that." His chin trembled briefly. "Please." When Alex made no reply and averted her gaze, Dean's stricken eyes went to his brother, who still remained further off as if it might protect him better. "Sam?" It was a plea. "There's more to all this, just let me explain, please!"

But Sam wouldn't look his brother in the eye. Instead, he looked at Cas. "Did I really just try to kill her?" he questioned so softly it was barely audible.

"You didn't," Cas replied, his voice made of lead. "The angel Dean allowed to use you as a part-time vessel did."

Sam's jaw worked oddly, and his voice was wavering and low, cold—and he would only look in Dean's vague direction. "I got nothing for you right now, man." He was stony. "You just gotta go."

Dean scanned the faces in the room and found no one sympathetic to his cause. Only disappointment, mistrust, fury, and loss of respect.

"He's right," Alex said. She sniffed and despite the tears on her face, she managed to pull off a commanding, brusque air. "You can't be here anymore." She folded her arms with a certain finality.

Dean's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes becoming briefly wild in desperation. "Look—I just—you gotta hear me out guys. You gotta let me explain, please—"

"No." Alex's answer lacked passion. She sounded worse than angry. She sounded… what she was for the moment. Done. "We've heard enough. Just get your stuff and go."

Extinguished, seeing reality for what it was, Dean began to nod grim, reluctant acceptance. "Yeah," he murmured, visibly casting away his feelings and soldiering forward despite his torment. "Yeah okay."

He went back to his room and finished gathering his stuff, leaving a shocked-to-silence set of siblings, a stewing Castiel, and a very considerate Bobby who ushered Kevin away to give the other three space. Until Dean left the premises, the twins mutually agreed without saying a thing not to talk yet. Cas and Alex embraced silently for a long moment, the ex-angel's face a mask of disappointment and sadness as he held his distraught partner in his arms. About two and a half minutes of utter charged silence hung before Dean reappeared with a huge duffel and made his way toward the exit like a dog with his tail between his legs. That's when Alex went to stand at Sam's side for solidarity. Cas remained behind by a few paces, brooding.

Dean stopped and paused at the foot of the stairs with his hand on the banister, then turned around. He eyed his brother and sister in turn, shouldering visible despair and making no effort to hide it either. "Look for what's worth… in case this is the last time I see you two… I just gotta say it." His voice wavered. "I love you both. More than anyone else on this godforsaken planet. Enough to do some pretty screwed up shit. And I'm sorry for that. I am." His eyes were shining even while he tried to force an accepting smile. He raised his chin. His hands were both working with nervous, stressed energy—one at his side, the other clenching into the duffel bag strap. "So. Take care of each other. And be safe." It was easy to tell how much it killed him to say all this. His sad eyes lingered on Alex, drifted to her stomach area, then finally went to the angel to bid a heavy farewell in just one loaded, mournful word. "Cas."

No one said anything back to him, and he was even more hurt by that. So he patted the railing banister with a hollow, torn up expression and began to climb the stairs heavily, resigned to his fate. Sam, Alex, and Cas watched him leave, and he didn't look back again—if he had, they would have seen an expression on his face like no other as he fought tooth and nail not to weep. When the door shut behind him, it sounded so final.

Both the twins reacted similarly: the composure they'd been holding until he exited crumbled away, leaving Sam wretched and Alex spiraling. "Sam I'm so sorry," she whispered in a harrowed croak, lost in her own personal hell of guilt. "I shouldn't have ever left, I shouldn't have lived apart from you—I knew something was wrong, I knew it—!"

As stunned as Sam still was, as glazed in agony as his stare at nothing was, he shook his head no. "It's not your fault." He began to shake as his breathing got uneven and heavy—as he finally let himself react. "Why would he do this? What was Ezekiel doing all those times I can't remember?" Sam's face shuffled through a quick carousel of emotions: horror, resentment, fury. "God dammit, Dean!" he abruptly exclaimed and lashed out at the closest thing he saw: a few still-open volumes resting on the table. With a yell, Sam swept them off in a rage. Papers fluttered as he heaved in place, too angry to function, too pissed to even see straight. Muffled but still audible, the Impala could be heard roaring to life outside, announcing Dean's final exit. And Sam began to shake his head repeatedly, a cagey and wild look in his eyes. "I can't even wrap my mind around this right now—I… I gotta go," he suddenly declared, and grabbed his jacket from the chair it had been slung over, already heading for the stairs.

Already half in a panic, Alex was ready to pounce and had to restrain herself from latching onto him. "What? Go where?" Cas came to her side.

Sam stopped and he clearly didn't know. "Anywhere but here, I just gotta… I just gotta be somewhere else."

Shaking her head no, Alex begged him uselessly, too scared to see him walk out. "Sam don't." He was already decided, and the look he gave her said it all. Please let me have this. And Alex didn't like it… but she realized she couldn't demand he stay here for her sake. She couldn't make him feel controlled yet again. She had to step back. So she swallowed painfully and nodded her conflicted acceptance, voice hovering above a bare whisper. "Be careful."

He nodded yes, turned to depart, then seemed to think of something and did an about-face, strode over, then pulled her into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head hard, then gave her a serious look. "I'll be back." They would certainly have a lot to talk about. But for now, Sam just clearly needed to unpack his emotions—alone. And he headed out.

Cas stopped him just before he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Wait Sam." When Sam turned around, he made quite the face—because Cas had followed him and was very abruptly in his space, ripping Sam's shirt to the side without any explanation, drawing something on the hunter's chest just above his pec with a sharpie he'd produced from seemingly nowhere.

"What are you…?" Frozen and disconcerted, Sam eyed Cas strangely as the angel finished his work.

"Now the angel won't be able to re-possess you," Cas explained even as Sam peered down at the Enochian symbol inked onto his skin, opposite of the demon ward. "But I suggest you find a more permanent solution in the long run." The angel managed a grim, tight smile and squeezed Sam's arm in awkward tenderness.

Sam swallowed, shaken up. "Thanks Cas." And without anything else, he left.

Cas turned to watch Alex sink to her heels and cover her face with her hands the second after Sam shut the door behind himself. There, she finally cried freely, and Cas went to her, his heart breaking anew.

The Winchester family was in fragments… and nothing seemed repairable in that moment at all.

---

Later
Cas & Alex's Room

It was early evening now on one of the longest days Alex had ever experienced. After Dean and Sam both left, Alex had realized she needed a moment to get her mind right too. So after Cas had wiped all her tears, she'd gone to the exercise room and beaten a punching bag until she was exhausted, checked her phone for texts from Sam (there were none), cried some more, then rallied and taken a shower. After checking again for messages from Sam, she fell asleep for a few hours thanks to her emotional fatigue. After waking she went and found Kevin, telling him that summoning Meg would have to wait until tomorrow because she was so out of her depth—then she returned to her room, unable to be around anyone or anything. Her mind was just spinning too much.

Cas kindly gave her space, checking in here and there between busying himself with who-knows-what, until he brought her a late dinner to their room. He announced himself by knocking on the door politely, and waited for her to invite him in before he opened the door and smiled at what he found. She wore stretchy maternity leggings with an old AC/DC shirt, and Cas had caught her in a moment where she was sitting on the bed, shirt pulled up, petting her own little belly thoughtfully. The bigger it got, the more fascinated she was—and nervous. She was only about two and a half months along, but her size and symptoms were both more comparable to being four or five months progressed. Time was running down quickly in this supernatural pregnancy, and with it, the stakes were rising.

Alex gave Cas a tentative smile at his appearance. "I thought you'd be hungry by now," Cas offered as he shut the door and approached. Wearing Dean's jeans and flannel, she keenly missed seeing him in the trench coat.

"Thanks. Everyone okay?" Alex accepted the plate from her seat on the bed and eyeing the hunk of lasagna wistfully. She had no appetite, which was too bad because it looked absolutely beautiful—and smelled amazing too.

"If by everyone you mean Kevin, yes, he's fine." Cas sat beside her on the bed, gauging her mood somberly. "I took him some lasagna and he was very excited about it—and, well, he ate quite a lot more than I thought he would then fell fast asleep face-down on the table. The poor boy is worn out." Even as Alex wondered where the hell the old man had gotten to, Cas mentioned it offhandedly. "Bobby is in his RV." Which left one passed out prophet on the library table. That just wouldn't do. Alex handed Cas the plate back and stood up with a series of groans like an old woman would make, wishing (and not for the first time that day either) that she could have a damn drink right about now. Cas's gently knowing tone stopped her mid-step. "You don't need to worry, I put Kevin into his bed."

Alex turned slowly, a smile growing despite it all. "How'd you know that's what I was thinking?"

A very soft, loving smile rested on his mouth and deep in his eyes. "A lucky guess," he teased, enjoying the fondness his words put on her face. Obviously it wasn't a lucky guess. He just really knew her by now—and vice versa. Cas stood up, putting the plate of food on the bedside table before he came and placed gentle hands on her. "Are you all right?" A question asked with the tender concern she knew so well. A question he'd been waiting to ask all day until she was ready to talk. As was regular now when he checked in with her, a gentle hand touched to the lower swell of her ever-expanding abdomen.

Alex's brief happy moment was dashed away as she thought about Dean's face when he found out about the pregnancy. She put her hand over Cas's, where underneath, their baby boy steadily grew. It stung so deeply. "...I just don't understand how he could do this, Cas."

Cas wasn't only sympathetic, he was distressed right along with her. "I don't either. But, well. I have had some time to think since my temper got the best of me." That statement drew her curious attention. Cas was careful and contemplative. "Dean and I spent a lot of time in purgatory together… and I'll never understand him the way you do but… your oldest brother is full of fear, deep beneath everything else. Fear to lose control—fear to be alone. And I think that is exactly how he feels. Alone and powerless. Forced into this role of protector and defender." The ex-angel's empathetic heartsickness grew more pronounced. "He can't bear the thought of losing his family. And I understand that sentiment with every last atom of my being."

So did Alex, but that didn't answer her question of how the hell she could get past this. Cas was big enough to be willing to consider radical empathy despite how bad Dean had fucked up—which was inspirational and baffling at the same time. Alex hesitated, wondering how to be able to do the same. "So what, I should just… forgive him?" she asked in total seriousness, voice remaining quiet and lost. "Overlook what he did?" How? How could she ever? Had Cas thought of how bad this could have been? "What if Sam had attacked you instead of me? You wouldn't be alive right now, Cas."

Somber, Cas shook his head faintly. He didn't deny the unforgivable nature of what had transpired. "Let me be clear, I'm not suggesting overlooking anything, just… practicing forgiveness in time, I hope." A wearily affectionate, gaunt look lingered on his face. "You three have been through too much to break apart now." He paused, voice wavering and losing volume. "And I love Dean too much to give up on him just yet."

Deeply stirred—and loving Cas impossibly deeper than before—Alex had to hug him, too overcome to reply for a minute. The thought of actually really never seeing Dean again—of somehow never being able to forgive him—was soul-crushing and struck her as mildly absurd. Just not compatible with reality. As angry as she was, she also had to figure that her feelings would inevitably shift—this was Dean, after all. He was on a very short list of people who she didn't know how to be angry at forever.

Cas drew back, a hand on the side of her head as he searched her eyes, visibly wondering what she was thinking. And Alex knew the subject of Dean couldn't be solved anytime soon. But maybe something else could be. "Why would Ezekiel wanna kill me?" she asked, her quizzical, stumped frown growing because this was the other thing she'd been driving herself crazy over the past few hours. "What motive is there?" She had tossed around theories but the most plausible one was this: strange angel gets rid of Alex so he can keep Sam's body without someone stopping him. Or maybe today had just been the day he'd chosen to kill everyone and he'd just started with her.

Cas stopped her in her mental tracks with his very soft, knowing hesitant comment. "Alex… I fear he was trying to kill someone else." His eyes meaningfully dropped to her midsection.

A possibility that made Alex freeze in her tracks as her heart plummeted in shock. An impulsively protective, horrified hand pressed into her stomach. It struck her as naive now, but she hadn't considered that maybe someone was trying to murder her Nephilim son. "But he could have tried that day in the hospital with Sam and he didn't—" she protested, mentally working through the possibility out loud.

Conceding that she had a point, Cas arrived at a visible impasse. "In either case, we need to be more careful." He studied her apprehensively, his worries about her safety and the safety of their baby showing with full transparency. "I know you have plans to help Kevin locate his mother but—"

"I'm not changing my mind about that, Cas," Alex said, cutting him off firmly despite her reeling thoughts. "I'm not. I owe this to Kevin." She really meant that too. It bothered her that he'd been out there on his own like that with no one in his corner. She needed to make amends, and couldn't let anything stop her. Besides. She managed a ruefully playful look despite it all. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of super-powered right now, so… it's kind of the most ideal time to go poking around in Crowley's lairs if you ask me."

Cas didn't argue—he recognized that she was set on this and there would be no changing her mind. So he reluctantly accepted with a rueful sigh and then gave her a careworn smile. "Then I will be right at your side."

Words that touched Alex and made her thankful. What would she do without him? Exchanging mutually torn-up smiles about the way things were, the couple embraced lingeringly, holding each other through their uneasiness. Alex mulled over her new grasp of reality: a baby everyone was constantly going to want to kill or take because he wasn't human. The very real threat of dying in childbirth and leaving her son motherless. A husband who belonged on the battlefield and was stuck playing house with her instead. A brother who could no longer be trusted—and a twin who had just been broken all over again.

It made quiet tears come. "I know Dean did what he did to save Sam. I get it, I mean I sold my soul for the guy—" There was a long, tense pause. Cas's hand comfortingly held the back of her head, thumb tracing a soothing pattern across her hair. "I just wish so bad he'd been honest with us. I wish so bad he hadn't made that decision by himself." Alex shook her head and pulled back enough to look Cas in the eyes with her teary ones. "He's ruined everything, Cas. I just don't understand him anymore."

Cas regarded her sadly and not for the first time that day, gently swept tears from under her eyes with fingertips. "In time, once everything's had a chance to settle in… you'll get a new chance. To understand him. If you want to, that is." He touched her chin, coaxing her to lift it. Her eyes raised to meet his. "I know how much you love Dean. And how much he loves you. Both of you." Cas hesitated, then very gently added on: "I think it's important to remember this right now. None of us are perfect in the least. We've all done immensely immoral things."

Honestly, that was exactly what she'd needed to hear. A callout that really made her put some things into perspective. And she eased off a little despite herself with a soft sigh. "You're right."

Maybe it wasn't as over as it felt. Dean wasn't some evil mastermind trying to fuck people over. He was only human and Cas was right… he put himself into the position of 'alone' sometimes to save others the pain of having to be responsible. Alex thought back to being in that hospital with Sam in a brain-dead coma he wasn't going to recover from. She would probably have done just about anything to see him live too when it had come down to the wire. No, she didn't think she would have ever tricked him. And no, she didn't think she would live a lie for two months afterward either. But she had no way of knowing what she would have done, at the end of the day. She hadn't been in that position. Dean had been. And just like that, empathy began to build. Her oldest brother must be feeling so guilty and alone right now—and her heart truly did go out to him by instinct.

As she thought of him, her mind yet again circled back to the friend she hadn't physically seen in almost two years now. A friend Alex would very much like to see again alive and well. Dean had reported that she was in a coma—and Alex wondered what would happen if she died again so soon after being saved. How far off the ledge her brother might fall should this occur. "Do you think Jamie'll be okay?" she asked, worried all over again.

Another instance of heaviness descended, making Cas's shoulders sag. "If I were an angel, she would be." Not for the first time, Cas's mixed feelings about losing his Grace was clear. "Otherwise… I'm not sure." He all but hung his head, blaming himself. "This is the worst time to have lost my abilities." It was Alex's turn to comfort, her hands reaching up to cup his face and her head shaking no. Don't guilt trip yourself. Please. Cas remained sad. "While I was talking to Kevin, I shared with him the dire straits of our situation with the pregnancy. I hope that's all right." He reached into his pocket as Alex's hands drifted away from his face. "And he showed me this." Cas held a photocopy of old parchment that was in a different language. It was illustrated, showing a vaguely humanoid figure extracting something magical and glowing from another humanoid figure. "It seems to indicate I can take Grace from another angel and have my powers restored." Alex honed in on the depiction of the being who the glowing mass was being stolen from: their eyes were crossed out. "But I'd have to commit murder."

Just like he'd theorized to her a couple times before. Momentarily too astonished to respond, Alex considered the clear two options facing them. "So you kill some angel and take their Grace… or I die giving birth."

Cas had already made the decision of who would live: his son. "A life for a life," he commented joylessly.

"Well… in that case." Alex had to concede it might actually not be that difficult. "Maybe we can find a piece of shit angel who deserves to die. Seems like there's a lot of those around these days." At the sage smile on Cas's face, Alex looked at him expectantly. "What?"

"I had the same thought," he shared. "Just… with different words." The expectant parents exchanged a thin, conflicted expression through their misgivings and worries. "So now we have a clear direction, at the very least."

Alex opened her mouth to reply then didn't—instead she suddenly gasped loudly as both hands smacked to her stomach, eyes flying downward.

"What is it?" Cas asked intensely, immediately assuming the worst.

She was sure she looked insane—but what had just happened made a huge, dazzled grin stretch across her face. "I just felt a kick!" She grabbed one of his hands, smashing it against her stomach in dazed anticipation—would he do it again? She'd felt the 'flutters' the pregnancy books talked about, but this was the first real, sudden, definite kick. Another wondrous grin broke across her face as there was another mighty little bop. "There! You feel that?" Their gazes met and from the stunned, poignant look on Cas's face, he indeed had felt it. For a second, they two of them kept their hands pressed in place and felt the little series of buoyant kicks. A first 'hello' from this little person who was coming into the world soon. Their eyes mutually filled with amazed tears. "Holy shit," Alex whispered through a dazed grin and happy, proud laugh as the kicks continued. "He's totally kicking my ass!"

Impulsively, even as their hands stayed against the jumping skin, Cas kissed her—a wordless declaration of ecstatic joy. When they came apart, he let their foreheads rest together. "He's so strong," Cas marveled, sounding choked up. "Our son." Alex recognized that disbelieving amazement in his voice, because she felt it too: Humbled and awestruck how the love between them had created new life. Reverent of this sacred thing they'd somehow been allowed to experience. "I'll do whatever I can to make this world safe for him," Cas vowed in a whisper, holding her close with growing intensity. "And for you."

Alex shook her head, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, nose brushing his. "For all of us," she replied—her small act of faith in believing they could all make it somehow—not just her and Cas, but everyone she held dear. Cas nodded his agreement and kissed her again, commemorating this incomparable moment to memory forever.

---

Later That Night
Topeka, Kansas

When Sam left the bunker, he'd had zero game plan except get in his current vehicle—a '93 Land Cruiser—and drive until he could think straight again. He should have predicted he'd take the familiar twenty minute journey from Lawrence to Topeka by default. After all, he'd been driving out there a lot for the past few months to see a certain someone. A certain someone who he was now convinced should be nowhere near him ever again.

Of all the questionable and dangerous things Dean had ever done… this had to be the most exceptional. The most heartbreaking. The most unforgivable. Some angel he'd unknowingly invited in thanks to Dean's interference had tried to use Sam to kill his sister—and unborn nephew right along with her. What else had Sam done under the unknowing command of this strange angel? What had happened during all those memory gaps? How many times had Ezekiel taken over in secret when Sam was asleep? Sam despaired relentlessly as he thought about what Dean allowed to happen. The feeling of being violated and wronged was so pervasive that it turned the middle Winchester's stomach and made his blood run cold.

It resounded over and over again in the deepest parts of himself: no matter how hard he tried, all Sam ever did was endanger the people he loved. When had he ever added something good to someone's life? His entire history was just one long list of failure after failure. He was the one who abandoned the family. Then the one who got Dean put six feet under by way of a soul deal. Then it had been the demon blood addiction. Then Lucifer's vessel, then soulless, then insane to the point that his sister had to sell her soul to save his life. Now some angel's unwilling puppet.

I'm so exhausted by this. All I ever do is put people in harm's way.

Like Molly. It was doomed to strike like it always did: The curse of being close to Sam Winchester. After today, he only had one conviction he kept coming back to: He should never speak to her ever again. He needed to end it.

Sam spent the afternoon doing the ill-advised: parking his car in walking distance of Molly's apartment then going to a nearby bar to drown his sorrows and procrastinate the inevitable. After an hour or so, he went to a neighboring tattoo parlor to get the anti-angel possession tattoo made permanent, then slunk back to the bar as night fell, trying to avoid going where he eventually ended up: the hallway of Molly's apartment building, pacing a small back-and-forth outside of her door as he fought with himself over what to do. The idea of ghosting her outright wasn't okay with him. But neither was the idea of breaking up with her face to face.

Her building was grad student housing mixed with fixed-income elderly residents—not the most luxury of places. The walls and doors were thin, meaning Sam could hear some sort of German TV show or newscast faintly from inside her apartment. Then he began to hear Molly talking to her cat sweetly. He stopped pacing when he heard her voice, taking a moment to just listen to her being happy one last time before he destroyed everything. He stood in front of the door and touched two ginger hands to either side of the door frame, wishing he could be part of what was happening in the familiar little apartment behind the closed door.

She'd be winding down now, since it was nearing ten at night. Maybe studying or just relaxing—and he could picture her lounging on the couch, content and at peace with Neville the cat curled up in her arms. Molly was so normal. So pure hearted. There was life in her eyes and bright possibility in her future. But not if Sam stuck around. His eyes fell shut as he remembered meeting this intelligent, goofy, striking, sweet girl in Vegas—the kind of girl he'd always liked: kind, empathetic, nerdy, humble, open-minded. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her, the more in sync their lighthearted, puppy-love dynamic had grown. Sam could have laughed at himself for being so pathetic and thinking he could ever belong in the same world she did: of caring about the environment and volunteering at animal sanctuaries and putting puzzles together for fun and taking chess way too seriously.

He didn't belong to the life she did. He never would. And he hated himself for pretending he could. Because of how much he knew this was gonna hurt her. Sam belonged to the dark promise of conflict and chaos. To a life beyond his grasp. To a family seemingly doomed to fail. And it was a lonely, terrifying place to be. Opening his eyes back up, Sam mourned for what was about to happen here. And regretted never opening up fully to Molly about who he was and what he'd done out of fear she'd reject him. Now he would wonder forever if she would have accepted him for him.

He wanted to be who he was when Molly was around: happy, sillier, carefree in a way he didn't know how to feel otherwise. Every time she grinned at him with eyes going into sparkling half-moons and dimples cutting her rosy cheeks—every time she quietly snuggled into him shyly, trust growing—every time she challenged a perspective he held, or spouted off an intellectual factoid, or reminded him of the goodhearted nature so many people really did have… it had healed a broken part of him.

Now he was about to willfully break himself all over again.

I'm saving her.

And I'll never let myself care about anyone ever again after this.

So with a heavy heart he straightened up, steeled his nerves, drew a deep breath, then looked at the door grimly and knocked.

The cat-talk stopped. The volume of whatever she was watching or listening to lowered. And a few seconds later, he heard her peek through the peephole. Then the door swung open. Sam couldn't help it. Despite his intentions to be as somber and grave as he felt… he smiled at the endearing sight of Molly, who he'd probably find adorable in any condition. A very pleasantly surprised gaping grin was on her fresh face, and she wore her thick-rimmed reading glasses. Tall fuzzy socks were yanked almost up to her knees and an oversized t-shirt—one of his, actually—hung over her slender frame over some top of some polka dot pajama shorts. Her long blonde hair was down and wavy in an effortlessly beautiful mass. She looked like what she was: sweet, lovable, and genuine. And Sam's little smile began to fall as soon as it rose because of what he was about to do to her.

"Sam! I didn't know you were coming over!" she greeted in semi-flustered delight, then faltered. Her face fell in sync with his as a concerned frown quickly grew—she took in his slightly disheveled appearance and visibly registered something had happened. "What's wrong?" she asked, her tone immediately worried.

Sam swallowed. It felt like there wasn't a lot of air. He had to know one thing before he did what he'd come to do. "Were… were there ever any times I didn't seem like myself around you?"

Molly blinked twice at the very unexpected question. "I don't…" she began, then stopped mid thought, studying his face and seeming to decide that voicing her confusion wasn't important. That whatever had him so worried came first. "No, not that I can think of. Is… is this about your memory gaps?"

Her insight both burst and broke his heart. "Yeah," he said, almost near tears as he yet again came face to face with what Dean had done to him. "Yeah it is." The place where he'd just been tattooed seared him painfully like a blistering sunburn in reminder. No wonder he'd been struggling with unexplained fatigue, memory gaps, and physical weakness.

Molly was definitely aware something was very wrong—she may have been a shy person when you first met her, but she was astute as fuck, and Sam could see the wheels turning as she took in his drunk-ish state, his visible distress. She indicated her apartment questioningly as her own anxiety spiked. "Do you need to come inside…? Is something going on?"

He would like nothing better, but he couldn't allow himself that option. He had already promised himself he would never step foot inside her home ever again. But that didn't mean that this didn't hurt like a motherfucker. "Look, Molly—" he started thickly. He hadn't fully thought through what to say or how to break the news. And as much as he needed to do it, he resisted. A teary-eyed, emotionally-compromised smile wavered on his unsteady lips as he thought of their snatched little morsels of time spent together. He felt guilty for allowing them, but so thankful at the same time. "The past few months have been… so great," he said earnestly, his choking throat making his voice strained. "You're so great."

The look on her face killed him. She clearly sensed where this was going. "Sam… you're freaking me out," she said with a nervous, scared smile that couldn't hold up underneath the mounting anxiety.

Sam was cast into moral dilemma of wanting to be selfish and also wanting to do the right thing. If he cared about her like he knew he did… and 'care' was putting it really, really mildly… he had to protect her. He knew he did. So he forced himself onward, with that one goal in mind: Molly living a long, happy, safe life. His eyes were beginning to ache as tears came in earnest now. "You are too good for me to let the world I live in to destroy you," he declared tremulously, all his stored up emotions impossible to dilute. "And believe me, it will." He was severe in the quietest of ways as he vowed it out loud so that he could never take it back: "And I won't let that happen to you, no matter how selfish I may wanna be. No matter how much I…" he stopped himself and swallowed hard. "Because selfish destroys people." He blinked and a tear ran down his cheek. "And I'm not doing that to you. I'm sorry I was stupid enough to put you through this at all." He tore this last part out of himself kicking and screaming: "I came here to tell you… goodbye."

Betrayed hurt grew. Molly's shocked eyes were shining just like his were. "Are you… breaking up with me?" she asked in a wounded whisper.

The hurt in her voice broke his fucking heart. "I'm sorry," he managed, and he abruptly couldn't deal with the consequences of his actions. He didn't have the emotional depth after today. The alcohol was making him stupid, his emotions were too haywire, his physical health being off was clouding his ability to reason. So he turned and tried to escape, needing to have this moment over with, needing to get away from where he could see the pain he'd caused her. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get on with her life.

"Sam no!" Her aghast voice stopped him in his tracks a few steps down the hall. "You're just gonna tell me that and leave?" He turned slowly to see her hovering in the middle of the hall—she'd followed him by a step or two. Gutted, her eyes begged him. "Why? What did I do?" she asked hoarsely, no hint of anger there. Only absolute hurt. "I don't understand…"

He couldn't bear to let her blame herself even for a second. "It's not you," Sam said vehemently, realizing even as he said it what a cliché he was living. "It's me. I'm no good." And to look at her now—her pretty features twisted in disbelief and betrayal, her tears… Sam truly despised himself. "God dammit, I wish I could explain," he admitted, cut to his soul with the pain of knowing he had to walk alone—and that the best thing he could do for this girl was rip himself away. He remembered Jess burning on the ceiling above him as he screamed helplessly. He would never forgive himself if something like that happened to the woman staring at him through tears right now—and today was a final confirmation that he would never—fucking—be—normal. Not even close. "Just believe me when I say you're safer if you forget you ever knew me."

The turbulent bewilderment on her face grew even more pronounced. "Forget I ever kn—?" she began in a flabbergasted, pale breath before her face threatened to crumple completely. "Sam, you brought up meeting my parents last time we were together!" she choked in disbelief, her delicate eyebrows knitting in toward each other hard as reddened eyes spilled tears. Yes, he had, it had just popped out in response to something casually—and he was so, so sorry. "Now you're just… what, never gonna talk to me again?" She shook her head in a daze, resisting where this was going, trying to deny it away. Sam let his eyes tell her that he just didn't have anything left to give. That this really was over. And Molly tried so hard to understand what she had no clue about. "What happened? I thought everything was…" she trailed off, wounded understanding settling in. Her voice became next to a whisper as any remaining light on her face died out. "I guess it wasn't."

Sam wasn't sure if he had ever felt worse than he did today. "You don't deserve this," His voice lost all strength. "And I gotta go." It was the most asshole thing he'd ever done probably, but if it meant she would hate him and stay away… then it was exactly the right thing to do. But he couldn't stop himself from offering an apology from the bottom of his annihilated heart one more time. "I'm so sorry." And he turned his back on her and resumed his exit.

Her voice stopped him again. And it wasn't to throw an insult, make a jab, or decry him. It was a tearful request made from a place of concern. Of love, even. "Sam, you've been drinking, please don't drive!"

He stopped in his steps, back still turned to her, face valiantly struggling. He shut his eyes hard. He didn't want to leave it this way—both of them in tears as the dream they had foolishly dreamed shattered apart. But there was no alternative in Sam's mind. It was either heartbreak now or Molly dead sometime in the future because of him. He chose heartbreak now. But that didn't make it any easier. And he opened his eyes up then left her with a reply to her anguished request not to drive drunk. "I won't, Molls." The nickname slipped out unintentionally on the tail end of that whisper. A final, tender reminder that she was so special. That the time they'd had together would always be so precious in his memories. And without turning around again, Sam left, each step killing him even as he told himself this was what he had to do. This would always be what he had to do.

But oh, how he would mourn the could-have-been as he retraced his steps a couple blocks, climbed into the Land Cruiser and kept his promise—huddling down into the seat of the parked car to sleep his buzz off.

---

Meanwhile
Tebriz, Iran

In the ruins of the Garden of Eden where angels first came into the world, a pale, sooty man who appeared dead suddenly jolted upright from the rocky rubble, gasping for air so deeply, one might have thought he had no air in his lungs at all. Wild blue eyes flickered over the expanse of sky above him in disoriented disbelief and he had to squint against the brightness with eyes that had not seen sunlight in hundreds of years…

The man stood slowly in a dreamlike state, his senses briefly overwhelmed. His looked at his hands in tentative wonder, flexing and stretching the digits.

Had he truly escaped?

About two months ago in earth time—or eighty years in Hell—there had been a surge of magic from Heaven so powerful that it had reached all the way down into Hell. Even as the angels were all cast out of Heaven, the spell shook Hades and left the Cage cracked. It was a mere hairline fracture, barely a scratch… but it had been enough. By clawing at it without stopping in the body he'd killed Michael for decades ago within the pit… the archangel now standing under the sun had finally secured his freedom and escaped the imprisonment of Hell.

In the vessel of Adam Milligan, Lucifer breathed in the air of earth once again, a small and wicked smile growing. Yes, he was weakened and in the wrong vessel—the apocalypse had been derailed—but those things could be corrected. At last, the ultimate story would continue onward. At last, this world would be his.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Lucifer's dark eyes searched the horizon triumphantly. His faith was renewed: Nothing in creation could stop destiny. Not angels, not demons, not God… and especially not the Winchester family.