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.

146. Riders on the Storm

Song Remains the Same

146 / Riders on the Storm

"Now I think I understand, how the world can overcome a man."
— Avenged Sevenfold

---

The Bunker
Two Days After Molly's Disappearance

With a drowsy moan, Alex shifted under the bedcovers. What she wouldn't give to sleep just a little longer, but the most recent mad bout of kicking taking place in her womb wasn't something she could doze through. Right behind her, cuddled close to every curve, Cas dropped a kiss onto her shoulder.

"Good morning," he greeted quietly as Alex turned her head toward his, a soft smile relaxing her face.

"Mmmfff," she muttered sluggishly, as good natured as she could be given the karate gymnastics happening inside her body. She pulled Cas's hand against her belly, letting him feel. The angel, who didn't sleep anymore since his powers had been returned, still preferred to lay together at night. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. She could feel the contented, gentle smile on his lips. Together, they shared the tenderly expectant, fleeting feeling—because around here, the shelter of quiet moments was getting harder and harder to find. It felt more and more important to seize any meaningful moment and lean in before it evaporated into the ether.

Cas's arrival to the bunker two days ago had helped return a much needed sense of stability and reassurance to Alex's chaotic, painful day-to-day. His presence was a salve that made the unbearable a little more bearable. Because other than his return, things remained bleak: her father was still missing, a demonic version of Dean continued to be on the loose, and angels were still trapped on earth engaging in civil war that was affecting innocent humans. The rolodex of problems only seemed to grow by the day: Now with Molly's kidnapping, Sam plus Bobby were out there trying to find any kind of lead on where Metatron had taken the girl and why. So far, the endeavor remained luckless.

Harrowed day and night by worries for her brothers, her father, her unborn son, her circle of allies and friends here in the bunker… Alex just wasn't in the best place mentally. Who would be? To make matters more compounded, the pregnancy was getting difficult. Gone were the days of feeling great. That had all been slowly replaced by back and leg aches, hot flashes, acid reflux, swelling feet, restless legs, upper rib pain, and the constant barrage of intensifying Braxon Hicks contractions. Sleep was either uncomfortable or nonexistent and god—the tiredness. She was so, sooo tired all the time. From what she'd read in the parenting and infant care books, she had just better get used to the feeling of constant exhaustion because what was ahead was a whole lot of no sleep. But in some moments, despite her resolve to weather the storm, she was so fatigued and overwhelmed by circumstances that she just wanted to plop down and cry.

Nearby, Alex's phone began to ring loudly, startling the nesting couple out of their tranquil cocoon. Alex rolled out of Cas's embrace and scooped her phone up. Sam Calling, the screen read. Brief, desperate hope for good news soared despite Alex's own self-cautioning ways and she answered, putting it on speaker as she sat, hauled her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed a weary eye. "Hey Sammy, any luck?"

Cas came to sit beside her, listening intently. "Nothing," Sam's dejected, tinny voice replied. Alex shut her eyes in let down frustration. Not the news she'd been hoping to hear. "Saint Louis is a bust." Sam gave an aggravated sigh on the other end of the line. "Why would he just take her then just go radio silent?" he asked, not bothering to hide how discouraged, guilty, or worried he felt. "I can't figure this out."

Not knowing what to say because they'd theorized about why Molly had been taken several times ad nauseam already, Alex opened her eyes and looked to Cas. Grim, he offered what little he could. "My angels are still searching for any sort of lead on this, Sam. So far however, there's no signs of Metatron anywhere."

Sam sounded small and tired. "Thanks, Cas." He sighed lengthily, and Alex could hear the tension on his face from the sound alone. "Look, I know we really need to be tracking Dean down and bringing him in but—just, just gimme one more day. It's my fault Molly got roped up in all this to begin with."

What could Alex do? Argue? Tell him it was useless? Not to even bother? Of course not. First off, she'd gathered how important Molly was to Sam. That and all of the moving pieces and stressors felt impossible to address currently anyway. Maybe there was no correct way. And with that in mind, Alex was gonna let Sam make his own decisions, because she just didn't have the mental bandwidth. "You got it," she replied, wishing she could summon more supportive enthusiasm.

"Is the cat okay?" Sam asked, to which Alex and Cas exchanged another glance. But this time, it was a little lighter. More knowing.

"He's doing fine," Alex reported, shaking her head with rueful amusement. "Cas loves him."

Sam chuckled faintly, a short and semi-forced sound. "Oh yeah?"

Historically not a cat person whatsoever, Alex hesitated, then admitted it grudgingly: "I kind of like him too."

A more genuine chuckle sounded. "Wonders never cease, huh?" her twin asked, then became short. "Hey—gotta go." The line was already beeping a disconnect sound, giving Alex no chance to reply.

She let out a charged sigh and rubbed a hand across her face as she let the phone clatter onto the bedside table again. The stakes were high and rising. Something had to give, and soon. Otherwise, Alex felt she might snap in two, like a rubber band stretched beyond its strength. At least the angel who had possessed Sam was dead… Alex owed this Molly girl a huge thank you for that one—if she wasn't dead herself already.

Nearby, Castiel was similarly in deep, conflicted thought. "Something's brewing, Alex," he said, drawing her questioning gaze. "I can't put a finger on exactly what, but I just have this feeling."

It was hard to know if relief or dread were the appropriate thing to feel at his statement. Because Alex felt the same. "I know," she murmured tensely. "Me too." She rose to her feet, dissatisfied with sitting. A low, dull contraction began for what would certainly not be the last time that day and she sighed lengthily.

Life felt so foreign lately. So hopeless in many facets. Everything was shifting and devolving nonstop, leaving very little of anything solid or familiar to hang on to. Her hands drifted to cradle her stomach and she contemplated her quickly evolving reality with a mixture of pain and despair. If she hadn't been so heavily pregnant, she'd still be out there on the road, refusing to return to anything resembling normal life until Dean was safe. But she just wasn't capable of doing that in her current condition. And that was a true kick in the gut. It made her think about how even after giving birth, her priorities and duties would be altered permanently. Her number one responsibility would shift to raising and protecting her son. While of course that made sense and was appropriate, it caused Alex a lot of feelings of crisis, making her constantly ponder the oncoming rift between who she'd always been and the person she felt herself becoming. Would she still be a good sister? A good friend? A good companion and lover to Cas? It was all so uncharted.

"I know I'm not changing completely as a person," she mused softly, eyes on the place where her son steadily grew every day. "But I am changing." Her eyes, lost and conflicted, found focus and searched out Cas's. "And I kind of don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore." The word 'motherhood' inspired fear, wonder, intrigue, joy, and anxiety all at once. It represented a clear, defining separating point in the timeline of Alex's life. A before, and an after. She knew who she'd been before, but who came next on the other side? Would she be a good enough mom? Could she actually, really do this? Her understanding of herself was shifting. Growing. Being added onto. "It feels like I'm leaving a part of myself behind," she continued, not sure how to feel about it. "Losing something. Even though I'm gaining something else." When she said it out loud, a sudden connection she'd neglected to draw suddenly clicked and made her pause and soften. She looked to Cas, who listened with a receptive, understanding expression on his face. "You've probably felt like this a lot since meeting us, huh?" Because talk about losing who you were before. Talk about becoming someone new, despite being exactly who you were before.

Cas rose to his feet, then stepped closer to hold her hands. His thumbs caressed fondly and comfortingly. "If I've learned anything in our time together, Alex… it's that facing the unknown with you at my side gives me a courage I didn't have before." His eyes studied hers with tenderness. "I hope I can help you feel this way too."

It was simple and beautiful when he put it that way. A much needed reminder. Nodding faintly with emotions close to the surface, Alex returned his smile, softening into his waiting embrace. "You do." He readily held her close and protective, his hand cradling the back of her head causing her to sigh in momentary contentment. Peace settled in like gentle snow dusting a waiting, tranquil prairie. He whispered that he loved her, and she whispered it back. At the very least, she was grateful that he was here with her right now in all this madness and uncertainty.

And then Cas suddenly stiffened and inhaled sharply, prompting Alex to pull back quickly. Something was wrong. "What is it?" she whispered urgently.

He was staring into nothing with a frown. "Angel radio…" he murmured, then met her startled gaze with a dumbfounded expression on his face, saying the last thing she expected to hear: "… it's saying Heaven's been re-opened. Someone's calling us all back."

Stunned, Alex gaped. "What? Who?"

Cas appeared to be listening intently, shaking his head as he tried to gain understanding. "I… don't know." And just then, he gasped and jumped out of Alex's grasp, some sort of awed wonder filling his face as he looked behind himself left, then right.

Confused and a little alarmed, Alex couldn't tell what he was doing. "What is it?!"

Wonder and hope filled his handsome features when he looked at her. "My wings!" he breathed, briefly enraptured. "They're back." But just as quickly as light had grown, a sudden darkness descended. "Something's wrong." He looked upward, horror becoming the dominant emotion.

"What?" Alex urged, trying in vain to see or hear what he was seeing and hearing. "Cas, what!?"

He finally looked down, meeting her frightened gaze. "Angels… screaming." Alex's blood went cold. What did that mean? Cas looked upward again, looking like he was holding himself back as he rapidly decided what action to take. He chose to pull his phone out of his pocket. "I have to contact my commander." He squeezed her arm briefly, already brushing past her. "I'll be right back."

Alex almost followed him as he stepped out of the room for a better mobile signal, but her phone dinged. She picked it up quickly, wondering what bad news awaited now. However, it wasn't what she'd expected. The text from Sam said: Molly just called. She's safe and unharmed, sounds like she went through some things though. Metatron's dead. She said she'd fill me in on the rest in person. On way to meet her halfway. Be back to bunker ASAP.

Alex stared at the screen, reading the message over twice before she looked at the doorway Cas had just disappeared through. Dread was screaming in her veins.

Metatron dead. Cas's wings back. Heaven re-opened. Angels screaming.

What the fuck is happening?

Nothing good—that's what her instincts said, anyway.

While she would remain in the dark about Metatron for the time being, she did follow Cas into the hallway after pulling on some pants. He contacted his second in command Hannah, who he'd left in charge of his incursion of troops in Wichita. Hannah proved herself wise when she relayed that she'd commanded all of the angels in the small flock, a number just over one hundred, not to ascend to Heaven when the call came. Thankful for her foresight and caution, Cas told them to go into deep hiding until further notice.

After that, Alex and Cas uneasily went to the bunker command center to call around and see if they could learn more about what had just happened. As the day went on, the mood in the bunker grew tenser and tenser. Everyone felt it: things were reaching a breaking point. Little did they know, it was about to get much worse.

---

Later
Huntington, Kentucky
Just Off of Highway 64

Bobby walked a casual pace beside his RV to relieve a tight lower back—the seven hours driving here to the halfway point had left their mark. Across the road Sam paced similarly at the bus stop, unable to stop checking the road every few seconds for Molly's anticipated arrival. Poor kid had been running himself ragged ever since the showdown with Gadreel. And hell, before that too. It was good to have a win right now. Glancing up the street, Bobby saw it at the same moment Sam did: the bus in question approached. Sam stood straighter, visibly nervous and anxious. And then as the bus rolled to a stop, it blocked Sam from Bobby's view.

Tense feelings ticking up a notch or two, the hunter remained on edge until the bus pulled away and he could see Sam again. Only now, he wasn't alone. Sam and the tall, leggy blonde he recognized from a couple days ago were embracing tightly in a joyfully relieved hug that said it all. A tiny smile grew behind Bobby's beard, relaxing his careworn face. Sam drew back and held Molly's face in his hands, asking her something—she nodded—and then they hugged again tightly. Bobby shook his head, that smile still present. Sam might have broken up with her a month ago or whatever it was, but it was easy to see and had been easy to see: in no universe was that boy over that girl. But far be it from Bobby to make any of that his business.

Once the road was clear, the tall pair of them crossed together and as they drew closer, Bobby could make out telltale spatters all over Molly's jeans, shoes, and shirt. Maybe some people could mistake it for fashion, dye, mud, whatever else, but Bobby immediately knew it was dried up blood. Metatron's, he guessed—but time would tell whenever Molly decided to tell them everything. The young woman's face and arms had been cleaned up, but her long hair was pulled back into an unkempt bun—probably to hide even more spatter. Poor girl hadn't even had a chance to change her clothes or get cleaned off.

Sam somehow had the look both of a weary soldier and a nervous boy as they all met alongside the RV. "Bobby, this is Molly," he introduced. "Molly, Bobby."

Molly was a very pretty girl—with bright, kind eyes and a nervous, diminutive energy. Despite having been through quite an ordeal, she seemed relatively okay. Before Bobby could, she offered her hand for a shake, managing a guarded but genuinely grateful smile. "Nice to meet you," she said, her voice soft and demure and meaningful. "Thanks a lot for coming to get me."

Bobby could tell that she was sweet as a lamb—which meant he wasn't entirely in his comfort zone. He was used to hunters who were, for the most part, a bunch of hardened jerks. "Well, thanks for makin' sure Sam didn't end up as an angel puppet again," he returned, smiling thinly because of his awkwardness. He felt out of his tree around new people. Especially normies. But, this little lady had killed a very dangerous angel, which impressed Bobby royally and earned his stamp of approval. Smiling politely, apparently feeling just as graceless as he did, Molly fidgeted. She clearly wanted to move along and probably shower off, too. Bobby jerked a thumb at the Winnebago, eager to get things going. "Sam's got some clean clothes waitin', and there's a shower on board too."

At the clothes comment, Molly's curious eyes looked up at Sam. "I uh, stopped off and grabbed some things," he said sort of bashfully. "Guessed your size."

Molly looked extremely grateful and touched, not to mention pleasantly surprised. The way the two of them looked at each other made Bobby suppress a sigh—young love was nice and all, but he didn't have time for all the longing looks and what have you. "All right, you two." He clapped the RV siding for emphasis. "Daylight's wastin'." Then he ambled down the vehicle length to get himself inside. These six hundred miles weren't gonna drive themselves.

---

Later
The Bunker

Neck cramping from too long bent over a book reading, Alex sighed and sat back in the chair, kneading at the stiff muscles with one hand as she eyed Cas glumly. He sat across from her, studying a yellowing volume about the levels of Hell closely. Alex admired silently for a moment—drinking in the comforting sight of him in his trench coat. He had the look of someone preoccupying himself. Everyone in the bunker was currently doing that.

Kevin split his time between slow translation of the angel tablet and research assisting Alex, who was still piecing together as much as she could to do with Cain, the Mark of Cain, and everything related. Linda had taken it upon herself to keep things tidy, orderly, and inventoried, so she spent most of the day bustling around, doing everything from cleaning to food prep to cooking to laundry. She always was eager to help with baby Rose. She really loved Rose.

Kyle had posted up outside of the bunker—overly eager to find ways to make himself useful.

Jamie, who had taken up residence in Dean's room, split her time between caring for Rose and trying to figure out motherhood on the fly, helping Alex (and subsequently sharing a couple of heart to hearts), and doing whatever she could for the group. It was obvious she felt a little out of place and intrusive, not to mention stressed past capacity over Dean—but she put on a brave face. And Alex tried to make sure her friend felt wanted and comfortable, as best she could anyway. Not like a thousand things were competing for her attention these days or anything.

They still had no idea what the screaming angels or Heaven re-opening meant. Cas had expressed morbid curiosity and had contemplated ascending just for a moment to see. But Alex had begged him not to—not until they knew more—and Cas grudgingly agreed that she was right. Hopefully, whenever Molly explained Metatron's death, it would shed some light on things. Maybe.

At that moment, Alex's phone buzzed in her pocket, diverting her attention. Drawing it out, she wasn't sure what she'd expected to see but it wasn't this: On the screen, a text notification from Meg that read Come outside :-)

Immediately a shade more disgruntled, Alex showed the screen to Cas, raised an eyebrow, and headed that way. Cas put his book down and followed in step. Grumpy and pregnant, Alex hauled herself up the stairs laboriously, wondering what kind of fuckery Meg was about to subject her to.

Outside, a muggy, golden summer dusk lingered. Meg waited a few paces off from the main doorway on the gravel, arms crossed, all her weight on one leg, and a pleasant expression on her face. Cas hung back watchfully by a few steps as Alex approached Meg more directly.

"What?" Alex asked irreverently, not in the mood to beat around the bush.

Meg, however, was just as coy as ever. "Howdy," the demon greeted. Her eyes flickered up to the hill where Kyle was posted up, right at the junction of concrete wall and overgrown, weed-choked hill. "Cute security system."

Following her gaze to where the ex-Leviathan stood with a holy-water filled super soaker spray painted black, Alex contemplated for a second, wanting to roll her eyes at the sort of ridiculous gesture. Kyle's idea. He said he felt more useful that way. If it meant he wasn't in the bunker, Alex kind of preferred it, so—whatever. She turned square to Meg and crossed her arms too. The effect wasn't quite the same, thanks to the enormous pregnant belly. "So what's the scoop?" Because she had a hunch (or maybe a hope) that Meg was here to deliver information on her wayward oldest brother.

Her hunch was correct. The demon's pleasant demeanor took a nosedive toward frustration. "The scoop is, demon Dean sucks." She sighed, letting her arms drop as she walked a small square, explaining what she'd observed. "I tailed him the past couple days. He's ditched Crowley from what I can tell. Spends his time making the rounds to a few choice sports bars." She pulled out business cards and one by one slapped them into Alex's hand: "One in Vegas, one in Portland, one in Chicago, one in Nebraska."

Stumped, Alex puzzled at the cards.

"…And what exactly is he doing in these establishments?" Cas asked, breaking his silence and coming a little closer.

Meg shrugged blandly. "Drinks, brawls, propositions the ladies. Sings karaoke, because of course he does." She hesitated, growing a little more veiled and reluctant. "That and some light arson, repeated theft, copious illegal drug usage, possible homicide involvement—" She paused at the look on both the listeners' faces. "Need I go on?" Alex gave the slightest shake of the head, sick to her stomach. Meg deliberated for a moment, trying to figure something out herself. "Something about him's different than your regular variety of black-eyed bastard," she said finally. "Seems stronger than the likes of a hellion like me, for example."

Alex and Cas exchanged a heavy, knowing look. "That's because he's no ordinary demon," Cas told Meg lowly. Their research from the past couple days had given them a new piece of daunting information: "He's a Knight of Hell."

Meg's expression registered shock. "What?" Her eyes darted to Alex then she processed the new information for an unnerved beat or two. "So… will this demonic vaccination cure thing of yours even work?"

The question hit close to home, and rendered Alex unable to answer. So Cas did, however heavily. "We're not sure. But we feel it's the only option we have."

A small caravan of emotions passed over the demon's face: understanding, conflict… and finally, what could pass for sympathy. "Well for whatever it's worth…" she offered sincerely, "I'm sorry this is happening." At the mutually weird looks both Alex and Cas gave her, Meg withered. "What?" she asked primly, crossing her arms again and scoffing as she muttered. "Last time I ever say anything nice again, scout's honor." With their regular, irreverent dynamic re-established, she pulled a face and looked behind them for show, indicating the bunker entrance. "So—" she prompted delicately, "am I ever gonna get the grand tour or what?"

Alex had known this day would come. And she had made a deal with Meg. A deal Meg had delivered on, too. Ugh. Irritated at the timing—at everything—Alex suppressed an ugly comment. "Just…" Exasperated and tired and kind of done with everything, she sighed and stepped aside wearily, giving up. "Come inside, I guess."

Cas sent her a questioning gaze and Alex just shrugged in mild disgust, wearily tailing the already beelining-Meg toward the door. She'd explain once they were inside.

---

Later

Meg coming into the bunker was annoying, just like Alex had predicted—all the puns, the ridiculous comments, the sly jokes—par for the course, obviously, but still. Annoying. However after awhile, Meg proved herself useful by providing some translations Kevin couldn't make, connecting some dots in the research no one else had, and her greatest achievement, making baby Rose laugh. Jamie hadn't really liked that.

Sam and Bobby finally returned with Molly in tow. She had yet to disclose details about Metatron's death, apparently having told Sam she thought it was information that the entire group would probably want to know. Alex remained apprehensive over that.

In the library, she discreetly watched the scene unfold from over top of a book: in the control room, Sam introduced Molly to Kevin, Linda, Jamie and Rose, Meg, then Cas who'd been more polite than Alex by getting up and meeting her at the library entryway. But, Alex reasoned, Cas also wasn't hauling around a huge pregnant stomach like she was—it was a good excuse for being slow. By the time Molly and Cas had shaken hands, Alex had managed to get herself up out of her chair and waddle forward a few steps. As Molly, Sam, and Cas got closer, Alex sized the newcomer up: a little taller than herself, beautiful tumbling wavy blonde hair down her mid-back, youthful features, nervous but eager body language. She was even prettier in person than in pictures.

"Alex, this is Molly," Sam introduced, his energy both anxious and excited—he wanted them to like each other, Alex knew that. Before she even stretched her hand out for a shake or offered a shy smile, Alex offered what she hoped was a warm smile.

"Hi," Molly said as their hands shook, visibly eager to make a good impression. "I'm so glad to finally meet you," she said, her voice soft and on the meek side. "Sam says the best things about you." Most people said that kind of thing to fill an awkward silence. But the way Molly said it, Alex believed her and glanced at Sam briefly, a humbled smile making her a shade bashful.

"All made up, I'm sure," she returned jokingly before being more serious and turning her gaze back to the newcomer. "It's nice to meet you too—I know we're all really glad you're okay."

Molly nodded, then suddenly gasped, spotting something behind Alex. "Neville!" The cat (who'd been spending his time prowling around, batting small objects to the floor, and nuzzling furniture or people in between long grooming sessions and pouncing on everything) let his owner dash over and scoop him up with gusto. "Oh my gosh!" a very relieved Molly murmured, emotional to be reunited with her beloved pet. She looked him over closely, grateful and happy before she turned an unrestrained grateful smile to Sam and Alex. "Thank you so much," she said, abruptly choked up.

"He's been kind of fun to have around," Alex admitted, which got her a skeptical, amused look from Sam. "What?!" she defended primly. "People can change their minds!"

"Yeah," Sam chuckled, eyes on Molly and her cat. Molly was too busy snuggling her face into Neville to notice the smitten, tender way Sam regarded her for that brief, unguarded second… but Alex saw. And when Sam noticed his sister's gaze, he wiped his face, cleared his throat, then sat at the table.

"Hey, uh, Molly—don't mean to rush you, but I think we're all curious to know about Metatron's death," he prompted. If by 'curious' he meant 'stewing in endless rampant anxiety,' he was correct.

Molly's smile faded and she became gravely serious, setting Neville down gently. "Okay. Yeah. Of course."

Nearby, Bobby and Meg lingered. Kevin had returned to his research at the control room table—while Linda and Jamie had gone to the kitchen with baby Rose.

That left Alex, Cas, and Bobby to join Sam by sitting at the dark polished library table. Molly chose a seat across from the Winchesters, next to Bobby. Meg stood off leaning against a bookcase quietly.

Molly was uncertain and cautious, looking around at all present apprehensively. She had to be feeling like a fish out of water. "Something's telling me this is a pretty big deal, so… maybe brace yourselves," she said with grave sincerity. A series of uncertain, concerned glances were traded across the table as the young blonde woman thought before she carefully began to tell her story. "After my apartment, Metatron took me to this office looking place full of books and left me by myself. It wasn't normal there. It felt like a few weeks went by to me, even though now I know it was only a couple days. I didn't eat, or sleep, I didn't get dirty… and it was impossible to get out of there. Nothing broke, not permanently anyway." Alex listened with a judicious frown. That sounded kind of like the Beautiful Room from back in the day. "Anyway, that's not the important part," Molly dismissed, eyes darting around hesitantly. "Metatron showed back up one day out of nowhere, and right after he did, someone else did too." Anxiety flashed across her face as she remembered. "That's when… that's when he got killed."

At her long, tense pause, Sam prompted gently. "By who?"

Her uncertain, wary eyes met his. "He said his name was…" she hesitated again, scanning the eyes of everyone listening apprehensively. "He said his name was Lucifer."

The entire room plunged into cold shock. That was the last name they'd expected to hear in a thousand years.

Sam's face went pale and his mouth dropped open as horror descended. "…What?" he asked in a gut-punched whisper.

"Lucifer?" Alex repeated incredulously, like maybe she'd misheard.

Beside her, Cas was equally scandalized. "You're sure?"

"Like real sure?" Bobby added in.

Everyone's reactions made Molly's already-hesitant bravado falter further. "Yeah," she confirmed uneasily, unsure of who to look in the eye. "That's what he said. And he also that he can't wait to… 'catch up.'" Everyone's faces grew even further horrified and Molly's expression took a turn toward queasy as her volume dropped. "…This is just as bad as I thought, isn't it?"

Bobby was the first one who could find the ability to speak. "Kid, you don't know the half of it."

At first, the shock had rendered them all gaping and speechless. But after the brief silence of digesting the information, a sudden hot flurry of comments engulfed the meeting:

"It's not even possible for him to somehow be topside again!" Alex protested, looking desperately to Cas. "Right?"

"He's in the Cage!" Sam added in vehemently, needing immediate input that would explain this horrific bombshell away.

"How would he have even gotten out?" Bobby wondered.

Alex was shaking her head, absolutely unwilling to even consider this. "It can't really have been him—"

Sam jumped onto that theory readily. "Metatron's trying to trick us again or something."

Castiel hadn't said anything in the onset of panic. Instead he'd retreated into grave contemplation. Once silence fell, he let a beat pass as he looked to Molly in quiet dread. "What did he look like?"

A damn good question. Everyone looked at Molly, who wet her lips and thought back. "Um… male, early twenties probably. Six feet tall, on the slender side. Blondish, short hair slicked back, youthful features. Clean shaven."

Everyone was quickly confused and thinking what Bobby said: "…That doesn't sound like that Nick fella."

However, soon as Bobby said that, Sam and Alex and Cas realized mutually:

"…It sounds like Adam," Sam breathed in soft horror.

Bobby's face went slack and he muttered a swearword.

Colorless, Alex's head was shaking no shallowly and repeatedly. "But how would…?" she started weakly. "How could…?" She abruptly grew angry. "We sent Lucifer to Hell, how would he have gotten out?!"

Sam looked at the one who'd reported this, his face gaunt with panicking terror. "Molly, are you sure you're sure?" he asked, begging her with his eyes to please be wrong. Say just kidding. Anything but confirm this terrible news.

But confirm she did. She nodded feebly, frightened by everyone's facial expressions.

With sudden realization, Alex looked at Meg sharply, who'd gone the most silent and shocked of all. Alex stood startlingly fast and rounded the table, approaching the demon threateningly. Meg took a step back, holding her hands up in front of herself defensively as if she were perplexed or offended by the confrontation. "Do you know anything about this?!" Alex demanded aggressively—of a mind to curse herself for trusting this demon so blindly. "I seem to remember the team you used to play for."

Meg's brief surprise disappeared in favor of a stormy expression. "Operative word being used to," she defended, holding Alex's gaze defiantly. "I've had a change of heart, and you know this, Ariel." The two women remained at a brief silent standoff, each with a hard gaze. According to Nurse Meg while they teamed up to safeguard comatose Cas, yes—one night with sharing a joint, the demon and hunter had experienced quite a deep conversation. One that included Alex asking Meg about her Lucifer phase. Meg had basically said she'd just been interested in the contrarian aspect of being a Lucifer loyalist, and that she was over it and 'fuck that useless chump.'

Still. "One wrong move, Meg," Alex threatened low and dangerous. "Just one, and you're out on your ass again."

Meg had the nerve to appear fractionally wounded. "Appreciate the vote of confidence," she muttered, trying to hide her hurt. Alex swept away, leaving the demon disgruntled but not silent. "Look," Meg said in a hard voice, a grim glance or two going Alex's way before she addressed the room. "If Lucy's back and in the incorrect vessel—there'd be signs, right? He'd have to drink a lot of demon blood, for example." Her mouth thinned. "And, well, there's been word on the street of demon nests being torn up lately—a lot more than usual. Thought it was 'cause the King of Hell's been playing hooky and let things get out of control." She made a face. "Not so sure about that theory anymore."

Sam sat back in his seat, overcome by blank-faced shock. "Shit."

"No, come on, no!" Alex exclaimed. Her wild-eyed search of everyone in the room only got her reluctant looks. No one replied. No one was sure. And that only added to the rising feeling of fear that was flooding the room.

"What else did you see, Molly?" Cas asked as he leaned over the table, deciding to gather more information. "How exactly did Metatron die?"

Molly thought back, full of misgiving. "Well… Lucifer sliced his throat open, but only just a little bit, you know? And this… really bright strand of really beautiful light came out of the cut he made. He put it into a little glass vial, then once he had that, he snapped his fingers." Her expression curdled. "That's when Metatron… um, exploded."

Cas understood what she had seen immediately. "He took Metatron's Grace to reverse the Heaven spell." Alex's face dropped in dismay when he put that together. "And then more than likely from the screaming I heard… killed most or all of the angels who returned to Heaven." Full of grim alarm, the angel cast a worried look down at his horrified brother in law. "Sam… I think this is legitimate."

In a terrible trance, Sam shook his head no speechlessly, face made years younger by fear. Beyond words, he put his elbows onto the table and cradled his head in his hands as he reeled. Beside him, Alex was similarly gaunt and silent.

"Perhaps Metatron's spell was so powerful that it affected the Cage," Cas theorized when the shocked silence got to be too much. "It cast all angels out of Heaven—perhaps it did something to Hell too." Seeing the frightened eyes of his loved ones, he reconsidered saying more. "I suppose the 'how' is irrelevant." He cast his gaze at Alex's twin, who was still holding his head. "Sam, we'll get through this."

The middle Winchester reacted with a startling outburst, hands flying away from his head as he looked up with wild, terrified eyes. "We barely scraped by last time, Cas!" he thundered. "Everyone died!" The facts rendered the room silent as a tomb again, every person sinking into their own low, fearful place over this. Sam quickly became despondent. "Maybe it really is inevitable, huh?" he asked in a hollow whisper, then became riled up by the vile thought. He stood, rejecting the gentle hand his sister had put onto his arm. "I can't go through this again, Alex," he insisted in a shaking voice, panicking and angry in a way he rarely ever got. "I can't!" He lashed out, knocking over a stack of nearby books with a swipe of his hand. Immediate mortification followed and for as much of a typhoon he'd just been, he became a quiet, apologetic mouse who couldn't meet anyone's concerned gaze. "I… I need a minute." He exited swiftly, leaving a wake of shame and anxiety behind.

Alex watched her brother go with a pained expression, then noticed how they had a larger audience than before: at the entryway between the library and control room, Kevin, his mom, and Jamie carrying Rose all listened with shocked expressions, having been drawn in at some point by all the yelling. Alex tore her gaze away to look at Cas, who was her last hope. She needed to find a way to see this news as anything other than what it felt like: the beginning of the end, all over again. "Okay so even if he is somehow back…" she reasoned in her half-witted state, almost where she could have cried, "he can't restart the apocalypse without Michael, right?"

Pessimistic, Cas thought about it briefly. "Michael's already been defeated, I think." He set his jaw and shook his head glumly. "I don't know. In whatever case. Lucifer's return spells disaster for us all, if he truly is back." He finally addressed what they were all thinking: "He'll want his true vessel."

"And he can't fucking have it," Alex snapped immediately, bristling protectively. She was petrified. Cas sent her a sad look. Another long silence stretched.

"What's Lucifer's true vessel?" Molly finally asked timidly, demonstrating exactly how naive she was about the situation at hand.

"It's not a what," Bobby replied solemnly when Alex and Cas remained quiet and reluctant to tell her. "It's a who."

More confusion grew on Molly's face.

"It's Sam," Alex supplied quietly, and Molly's eyes began to widen. "He's Lucifer's chosen vessel." At the flabbergasted silence, Alex studied Molly with very new, sad understanding. "My brother hasn't told you a lot about his life, has he?"

Processing, Molly was meek. "No."

Despite everything, Alex was compassionate to the shock on the other woman's face. "He's trying to protect you by doing that." Trying in vain. And probably afraid to be seen as who he truly was, too. With a resigned deep breath in, Alex realized she could do Molly the biggest favor by being honest with her. "And I hate to break it to you, but… I don't think your life ever goes back to normal after all this."

Stunned into silence, Molly watched as Alex looked at the doorway her brother had just disappeared through. "I'm gonna check on him," she decided, standing up and slipping out of sight.

Molly, Bobby, and Cas remained at the table with a furtive Meg nearby. Kevin, Linda, and Jamie lurked further away, exchanging uncertain, weighted glances. Jamie held Rose closer, kissing her head as she held the baby close and then left. Linda and Kevin moved to stand arm in arm.

Cas remained deep in thought, his face pinching hard. "This is a very dismal turn of events." Bobby made a gruff, cynical sound, shaking his head as his eyes stared unfocused off into nothing.

Meg cleared her throat and came a little closer. "I'll check out Lucifer's crypts. See if I can rustle up some… uh…" she trailed off, because she wasn't exactly sure what. "Anything."

Interested, the angel turned attention to her. "The crypts we robbed?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

A sly little smile came his way. "Those old things?" The demon lowered her chin conspiratorially. "Oh no honey, there's more. Lots more." At the surprise on the angel's face, Meg shook her head teasingly. "You really think Crowley could get all my secrets outta me? I'm disappointed, Clarence."

"No you're not," he retorted irritably. "You're… amused."

Meg chuckled. "Nothing gets past you, cutie." She nodded a farewell to those in the room. "I'll be in touch." Then she disappeared into thin air, leaving harrowed silence behind.

"I'll help however I can," Kevin said grimly, walking closer as his mother followed.

"Me too," Linda said in a clear, strong voice.

That left Molly looking vastly lost. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked, not even sure who to look at when she asked it.

"Stay here where it's safe," Bobby answered gravely. "'Til we got more figured out." He considered what he'd just said then edited himself: "Either that or run for the hills while you still can."

Pale and reticent, Molly made no reply.

Castiel deliberated a moment longer, then excused himself.

---

It seemed too cruel of a circumstance to find themselves in again. Lucifer. The apocalypse. Sam once more the target of cruel and unspeakable things.

Cas could barely process his thoughts, but his first conviction was this: the Winchesters needed him. He found the siblings in Sam's room sitting on the end of the bed. Sam was distraught, in a trance of blindsided alarm and despair. Close at his side, trying her best to console him, Cas could see that Alex was having a hard time too. The angel's heart felt like it was cracking in half. Dean should have been there in this moment.

The twins each acknowledged the angel's arrival in their own way: Alex's watery eyes raising to look at him silently and Sam saying the following in a weak voice: "Cas, this is my worst nightmare."

Nodding heavily, Cas came to sit on Sam's other side. He put a gentle hand onto Sam's back near Alex's hand. Their fingers touched. "I know, Sam."

Everything they lived through with Lucifer years ago was very thick inside of his mind at that moment. He remembered how dark it had gotten. How close it had come. The angel cast a concerned, probing look across the despondent man to his equally despondent sister. Powerless is how he felt against the grieved look on her face. Cas knew how hard she worked to be brave—and he could see how the carefully built wall was failing.

"I've never needed my big brother so bad in all my life," Sam choked out, and Alex struggled even harder to keep herself together, obviously feeling the same. She squeezed her eyes closed briefly as her breathing became labored. The pain the two of them felt was like a knife in Cas's heart. He mourned for them day and night—and for himself, too. They all loved and needed Dean.

"Well until we have him back, we have each other," he encouraged as firmly as he could, knowing that he needed to be strong for all of them right now. Still downcast and hopeless, the twins barely reacted. Cas tried again with more feeling: "Sam—Alex—I have my wings again. We know where he's frequenting. We have a cure we can try. We're compiling information about Knights of Hell. We'll find him, Sam. You and I. Possibly even by the end of today, if you think you can manage it."

The reminders perked the twins both up marginally. And even in his grief and fear, Sam proved himself to be tenacious as ever. "I'll manage whatever I need to if it means I get my brother back," he said fiercely, then lost some of his brief fire as it all crashed over him again and took his breath away. "If the… the end of the world is back on the docket again…" He broke down, tears beginning to flow. "I just can't face it without him."

When he put it like that, Alex's color paled further and for a long moment, she visibly reeled. "…How can any of this be happening?" she whispered fearfully, eyes glinting with sick, horrified tears.

It crushed Cas's heart. "Don't give up," he entreated them both, understanding that they might as well admit defeat if they did that. "Either of you. Please. Not after everything." With similar expressions on their face, the twins hung onto his pleas, trying to find hope right along with him. "We still don't know what exactly is happening here," Cas reminded. "But it will never end with Satan winning," he insisted, because as long as he was alive, he would never allow that. "I promise you."

"Yeah," Sam said softly. "I won't let it either." He and his sister exchanged a quick, loaded glance. "Did you tell him?" Sam asked her softly. "About what Lucifer planned?"

Alex shook her head softly. "No. I didn't think it needed saying." Her expression was faintly ill. "I guess now it does."

Cas's pulse picked up unpleasantly—immediately, his instincts were that something was wrong from the way the two of them regarded him.

"It's a lot worse than you know, Cas," Sam confessed faintly, barely able to speak steadily for how upset and ashamed he was. "It's… a lot scarier than I can even explain."

But explain he did, with Alex supporting him the entire way, making sure to put blame where blame belonged: onto Lucifer. Never onto Sam.

Cas was left understandably horrified when the entire story was told about Lucifer's design for a new world order using the twins. All he could say afterward was that he would never allow this to happen to them while he lived and breathed. All three of them understood, with absolution, that if Lucifer truly had returned, he could never be allowed to triumph. Everything was at stake. Everything.

---

Later

Feeling emotionally worse and more depleted than he had in ages, Sam found Molly in the library with Kevin. He stopped to hover and watch from the entrance before they noticed his presence—the pair seemed to have struck up a conversation and be relating over a book of ancient rune magic. Tense features softening briefly, Sam smiled to himself bittersweetly. He had always known Molly would love this library—and seeing her sitting in the middle of it studying the pages of a book with that soft, interested, eager look on her face, Sam was given brief respite from all of the dire feelings inside. He was so glad she was okay. But newly worried about how she'd never be able to forgive him for what he had gotten her tangled up in. He could never undo what he'd done to her with his selfishness. With his reckless decision to spend time with her he never should have. His smile fell away into self-loathing. This was all his fault.

Just then, Molly noticed him and her affable expression fell into something more worried. Sam almost bolted then and there. He had to force himself to stay rooted in place and face her. She studied him a minute, then excused herself from Kevin's side. She came to Sam uncertainly, who stepped back into the quiet, dim hallway for privacy as his heart began to race sickly. How could he explain to her that she'd just delivered the worst news of maybe his whole life and he normally didn't have outbursts like that? How could he apologize for all the shit he'd brought to her previously safe, stable life? He really couldn't do any damage control—all he could do was just maybe be straight with her for once.

"I'm sorry you had to see all that," he apologized, having a tough time looking her dead in the eye. He'd never wanted her to know the darker side of his life, nor the full extent of who he was and what he faced on a daily basis. "There's… a lot I've kept from you." And that was putting it pretty mildly. Sam felt ashamed. Afraid she might accuse him of any number of things.

But all she did was nod, guarded and awkward while standing with a hand grasping her own elbow. "Yeah." She looked concerned about him, which made Sam feel even worse.

There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to let himself feel for her and express. But he wouldn't allow himself anymore. He'd done too much already: dated her despite knowing he shouldn't—broken up with her and left her blindsided—then almost gotten her killed by proxy. Now, she knew he was Lucifer's freaking vessel. She had to be regretting ever saying hello in Vegas—had to be viewing Sam in entire new light. That was the most disheartening thought of all.

"I gotta hit the road and get my brother back while I still can," Sam explained stiffly, ignoring all his feelings. "We're leaving in a minute." Molly's vulnerable eyes searched his, and Sam thought about how, because of him, she could now call herself a killer. When he'd asked her about it, she'd said she had come to terms with it. But he kind of didn't know how to believe that. "Look Molly." He wet his lips, hiding his aching heart so that he could let her know what to do. "It's safest for you to get yourself as far away from here as possible. Halfway across the world. Seriously." He had destroyed her life, and that destroyed him. "You can't go back home." He managed a wounded, self-pitying smile. He couldn't help himself from bringing it up. "But I saw the moving boxes. You were planning to leave anyway." He knew why, too. Because of him.

"Yeah," she confirmed neutrally, mercifully not laying on a guilt trip or telling him what a dick he was. Instead, she offered a nervous, faint smile as she tried to be polite. "Quit my job without giving a two week's notice and everything."

Despite it all, Sam's face softened into a surprised little smile. Just like she always said she would. "Did you give your grand exit speech too?" he asked, grinning faintly to remember the abbreviated version she'd performed for him once.

She tried to hide away a thrilled, secretive smile. But her pride in herself beamed through. "As a matter of fact, I did."

His smile held and he felt proud of her—and so conflicted. In another lifetime and in a different world, the two of them could really have had a future. That was the hardest part of this. Sam longed for her despite knowing he shouldn't. The expression on his face gave his thoughts away and earned a demure, questioning little look from her that made things even more difficult. He felt nostalgic for something that would never exist—because he understood that this conflicted dynamic between them would be over soon. Molly would leave the bunker and go into hiding in some obscure, far away country with a new name. Her education and intelligence would help her survive. She would eventually meet some other man—and Sam would fade away in her mind. Molly would never fade in his, though. The way he felt for her burned inside of his chest, making his voice soft and hoarse. "Are you okay?" he whispered. "I mean… really." He wished so badly he could be the one to protect her. He would always treasure the memories they shared. And that would have to be enough.

It was so dim and quiet in that hallway that they could have been the only people in the world. Molly's face showed conflict and uncertainty. "I don't know what I am," she whispered back, and from the way she looked at him, she could have been about to kiss him. "I just…" her eyes searched his deeply, she drifted just a little closer—Sam's eyebrows drew in together questioningly—and then there was some noise down the hallway. Jumpy, Molly cleared her throat and drew back, appearing to be disappointed. She steeled herself outwardly against her feelings, realizing it was time to say goodbye. "Be careful out there."

Tense, Sam nodded. "I will." He wanted to say more. But what exactly? He had no clue. Down the hall, more activity sounded—Cas and Alex approached. Sam smiled thinly. Circumstance was making his decision for him. "I, uh—I gotta go." He fully expected to never see her again after this moment, so he decided to make sure he said it one last time. "And for whatever it's worth… I'm so sorry for getting you caught up in all this, Molly." He didn't stay to hear her reply, because he was too fragile to hear about how much he sucked. Especially from her.

Molly watched Sam leave with a sinking feeling in her gut. He clearly expected her to be gone when he came back. But what if she didn't want to leave? Why hadn't staying been an option? At first, Molly wasn't sure what to do or how to proceed. But then when Alex had kissed Cas goodbye and they'd all seen Sam, Cas, and Bobby out the door, Alex had turned to a very stormy, deliberating Molly and said, "well, there's a few things we have to get figured out if you're gonna be staying here."

"…What, like sleeping arrangements?" Molly asked, caught off guard and immediately feeling like she would be intruding on some long-established family dynamic here.

Alex, who was preoccupied for understandable reasons, looked at Molly with faint surprise. "Oh. Well yeah, that too." She nodded her head toward the back of the bunker and a surprisingly impish smile curved her mouth. "I was more thinking getting you on the same page as everyone else and fit to defend yourself."

Molly blinked a couple times, then a slow, pleasantly surprised smile grew. "Oh." She swallowed, exhilarated and terrified and kind of maddeningly curious. She nodded, accepting readily as her mind spun with questions and possibilities.

And that had kind of been it.

---

It turned out that unlike Sam, Alex had straight out-of-the-gate confidence that Molly could handle this hunting, supernatural-aware side of life, and even said that Molly had no choice but to dive in. She had a vision for getting Molly armed with knowledge and know-how and not even an hour after Sam left, Alex had her in the weapons range hall deep in the bunker's belly, learning to shoot, load, disassemble, clean, and handle a variety of guns. Molly was a better shot than she thought she'd be, and once she understood more about firearms, it wasn't quite as scary as she would have thought. Alex was very knowledgable and even-keeled, and didn't make anything weird concerning the fact that she could obviously tell about Molly and her feelings for Sam. Her pregnancy seemed to be causing her some discomfort and frayed patience, but other than that, she was a very focused, thorough teacher. Molly found herself really liking and even relating to Sam's twin—and hoping the other woman liked her, too.

That night, Jamie and Alex stayed up with her for hours, answering questions about everything going on, explaining hunting and the apocalypse, and swapping stories of how being a female in this macho-male dominated world had its challenges. Both women didn't even question whether or not Molly should learn everything possible about the situation at hand and be ready to face whatever came their way next. The two of them encouraged her to decide for herself where she 'belonged' in all this, essentially saying her path was hers to determine (but that in either case, knowing the basics was essential). The thought of her fate being her own entirely to decide was empowering and scary at the same time.

Oddly enough, Molly had never felt quite as welcome as she did that day, nor as inundated with new dizzying new knowledge. It kept her lying awake in bed for hours after the women had left with racing thoughts of what was happening and her place in it all. Molly knew one thing: Alex was right. There really was no going back to life before. There hadn't been ever since the day she smiled shyly at a handsome stranger in Las Vegas. Then there was the newest thought in her mind: she didn't want to return to that life before, and hadn't for awhile.

Just a few days ago, Molly had been packing up her little apartment and planning an uncharacteristic all-out uprooting of her life. When Sam broke up with her, it had set something off in her. Topeka had been full of reminders of him and their failed relationship and all the heartbreak that had gone along with it. Her anxiety and depression had reached peak, leaving her feeling a restless loneliness she'd never experienced before. So in a questionable but necessary series of decisions, Molly had decided to move herself away and start over. She'd applied for and accepted a job at University of Iowa as library assistant—she planned to finish her degree there, too. In her mind, this would not only give her the ability to get over Sam, but it had been a long time coming. She just wasn't happy in Topeka, and hadn't been for years. Especially not after having her heart broken like it had been. She had decided she deserved to be happy, and needed to stop laying down and taking life steamrolling over her. The move had been her staking claim over her own existence, in a way.

However, every step she'd taken toward accomplishing that goal had felt sort of wrong. Well, except for quitting her job. The look on Mr. Jones' face as Molly had let him know exactly what she thought of him and that she was walking out on the spot still made her feel elation. Mostly over the fact that she'd had the balls to do what she'd always pictured herself doing.

The turn of events with Gadreel and Metatron had of course not felt right. But now, to be in this amazing bunker full of ancient lore and truth the majority of the world rejected… to be learning about angels, demons, ghosts, werewolves… to be caught up in something that was verifiably important and crucial to the future of humanity… Molly was captivated and drawn in. As someone who had dismissed fate to storybooks in the past, Molly had to wonder if she'd been wrong. Some part of all this felt like it was supposed to happen. This felt more right than Iowa ever had. After all, ever since Sam and learning about the true existence of all things paranormal, she'd been woefully fascinated. While he always shut down to talk about his life, hunting, or the supernatural, Molly had quietly been pursuing intrigue. Her podcasts of choice had ceased to be of the politics and true crime variety, and instead she'd downloaded every urban legend and folktale cast she could get her hands on. She spent hours on YouTube watching supposed ghost footage, first hand paranormal encounter videos and storytimes, and diving deep on web forums. Then, that fateful day when Gadreel had used her to lure Sam, Molly had learned that she was braver than she'd ever known or believed herself to be. She thought about the proof of that—saving Sam's life from Gadreel—constantly. She had never known this side of herself could exist. Yet it obviously did.

As the next day dawned, Molly threw herself in headlong to experiencing and learning everything she could. She helped Mrs. Tran make breakfast for everyone in the morning, and came away really liking the kindhearted, friendly woman. After that was more shooting practice with Alex who had to cut it short when her contractions were bothering her too much. Jamie took over the lesson then afterward gave an impromptu introduction to understanding witchcraft—all with her baby strapped to her like what Molly thought was a total badass. Afterward, Jamie let her hold Rose, which Molly loved. Past the lunchtime hour, Molly perused the incredibly cool and vast bunker library with Neville nuzzling her ankles as she got carried away pulling volumes out that she wanted to read. She also took note of the organization structure of the library (there wasn't really one) and got quite excited about the thought of heading up that exact effort—maybe even creating an electronic catalogue to accompany.

She mentioned this to Kevin when she sat down with her stack of books and he immediately agreed enthusiastically—he lamented about how much time he wasted trying to find books on the shelves, and how no one had the same idea of how to structure things.

Kevin was especially nice, and the two of them sort of hit it off over the next couple hours. Once they'd shared a little bit of conversation back and forth across the library table, they realized they were kindred spirits—normal people dragged unwittingly into the Winchesters very abnormal lives. Seeing how Kevin had integrated and managed to adapt gave Molly a lot of hope. That, and the idea that she could actually contribute to something here in a way no one else could thanks to her studies in library science… well, she was feeling pretty positive despite how dire she knew things were.

The rest of the day passed with Molly reading raptly—especially a volume she'd found that was unmarked and especially intriguing. A personal journal belonging to one John Winchester—Sam's father. By the time she'd read the entire thing (and gotten quite a sobering picture of the Winchester's childhoods), it was approaching ten at night. Alex wandered in, having spent most of the day feeling unwell and resting between rounds of hitting the stacks. She was apparently back to read some more, and Molly sent a tentative smile to the tired mother to be.

"Everything okay?" she asked, still feeling shy and a little uncertain around Sam's twin.

"Yeah, it's just—" Alex started wearily, then never finished.

The group that had gone after Dean re-appeared without warning in the control room out of thin air—Sam in the middle, holding Bobby and Cas up as they clung to him weakly. All three men were bleeding.

Molly and Kevin shot to their feet. Alex was already rushing over. "What happened?!" she cried out as she just barely managed to brace Cas. Making it to her side, Kevin managed to help her.

Panting, eyes screwed shut, Cas spoke through gritted teeth. "Your brother did."

"We're fine, we're fine," Sam assured, groaning, then he caught sight of Molly hovering in concern nearby and became extremely confused. Beside him, Bobby had his hands on his knees as he bent over trying to catch his breath.

"I'm injured," Cas explained weakly as Alex helped him to a chair. "And I'd be dead if it weren't for a very unexpected intervention."

"We'd all be dead," Bobby muttered, abysmally chagrinned as he hobbled himself to a seat, unassisted and waving Kevin away grumpily.

"Who?" Alex asked urgently. "Who intervened?"

The angel was perturbed. "Crowley," he said. "He brought his hounds, and Dean backed off."

"Crowley?" Alex looked absolutely blindsided and stressed. "Why? Why would Crowley do that?"

Cas shook his head, out of answers.

Standing by himself now and obviously sore, wounded, and upset, Sam met his sister's wild, puzzled eyes with grudging ones. "Yeah and it gets worse. Dean has the Impala now." Her face went slack at the bad news and guilty, Sam looked down… then locked eyes with Molly. He questioned her silently, then abruptly got that look in his eyes he got whenever he was about to run away from her. "I—I'm gonna get cleaned up," he muttered, and exited for his room, leaving Molly stinging and staring after. He was definitely avoiding her. She just couldn't shake that feeling.

Alex was already pulling first aid kits out of a storage cubby nearby, muttering grouchily to herself as she did. She marched over to Molly and smacked one against her, making her take it. "I've got these two," she said about Cas and Bobby, who were both sitting and cringing as they bled. "Sam's gonna need a hand though."

Immediately unsure, Molly remained stuck in place. "I… don't think he wants company," she hedged.

"Who cares what he wants," Alex retorted, already trying to examine Cas, who shook his head and silently asked for a moment more to just catch his breath.

Molly still hesitated. She wanted nothing else more than to go to Sam, but his demeanor toward her had taken a hard shift ever since she told them about Lucifer. He hadn't spoken to her since he left two days ago. "Shouldn't you go?" she asked, sending an embarrassed glance around at everyone that wasn't Alex before she spoke a little more furtively. "He doesn't want me around."

Alex was exasperated—but not with Molly. "Yes he does," she said after a disgruntled second, meeting Molly's anxious eyeline with a certain, convincing gaze. "Just go."

Swallowing and willing herself to access some of her newfound bravery, Molly nodded. With a deep breath in, she followed Sam's trail with squared shoulders.

---

Bursting into his room then restlessly stalking to the bathroom, Sam came to stillness once he came face to face with the mirror. His hot energy began to fade in favor of what he truly felt most deeply: absolute heartbreak. Dean was burned into his mind… a vision of black-eyed doom. Sam's features bore witness to his demonic brother's hatred and apathy—a harsh scrape across a cheek, a small gash on the forehead. Blood smeared down from nostril across lips. Hardening as he met his own gaze, Sam aggressively turned the water on and splashed his face clean, hissing as he did so. He toweled his face dry roughly, then exhaled hard out of his nose, letting his hands settle onto either far end of the sink as he regarded himself with disappointment and shame. He leaned some weight, hanging his head and shaking his head in disbelief.

Sam couldn't fathom his despair at the current moment. Bringing Dean in was supposed to have just taken an hour or so, not two days. They'd repeatedly lost Dean in a series of mad chases before finally pinning him down. Maybe that's what Dean had wanted. To toy with them. Because he easily beat the three of them to pulp in a matter of seconds, all while slinging insults and threats in that derelict alley they'd caught him in. If it hadn't been for Crowley… Sam, Bobby, and Cas would probably currently be six feet under. Cas had gotten the worst attack, sustaining multiple slashes from the Blade at Dean's merciless hand.

Destroyed over this, Sam wanted to break down and cry. He just wanted his brother back, and the fruitless, dangerous attempts to bring him home were only escalating. How were they supposed to face this? For now, Sam had nothing left to give—he needed to lick his metaphorical wounds and recover before he decided what to do next.

His thoughts turned to the unexpected face he'd just seen in the library. Molly. He had expected her to be long gone by now. He was of two minds about it: so very glad. And absolutely upset.

It left him wondering what he was supposed to do—what she was thinking—and if she were staying merely to be protected by the group, or… something else. Behind him, he heard sound and he went still, swallowing down the hope that it would be her. He straightened and turned. And there she was.

---

Molly found him in the bathroom off of his bedroom, hands gripping the sink as his head hung. Just as she came to an uncertain stop and wondered if she should retreat, he raised to his full height and slowly turned. When he saw her, the tenseness on his face faded away a little. Neither said anything for a couple year-long seconds.

Feeling like a deer in headlights, Molly was the one to break the silence. "You okay?" she asked softly. He'd washed his face, but his cuts had already started to bleed again—and she could see the emotional agony hidden away in his eyes.

He didn't answer the question. He didn't even seem to hear it. "Why are you still here?" She could see that he was confused… but also glad to see her, even if he were conflicted about showing it. "Shouldn't you be in like… Russia by now?"

To look into Sam's soulful hazel eyes, Molly felt her pulse pick up by a few beats. She swallowed against a dry mouth. "Decided to stay." Astonishment flickered across his face, then doubt. Molly focused on the cuts he had because she just wasn't ready to go into that. "Your brother really did this to you?" she asked, unable to fathom how terrible Sam must be feeling right now.

He grew morose. "Yeah."

Molly showed him the first aid kit hopefully. "Let's get you patched up?"

Sam eyed the kit hesitantly. "I mean, I can do it myself," he said sort of uncomfortably, obviously trying to figure out if there was an angle to her offer.

There certainly was an angle. And Molly pretty much let him know as much when she said, "Yeah, you could." She had to force herself not to hold her breath as she waited for him to say something along the lines of 'just give him the kit and leave.'

So when he relented and dutifully went to sit on the bed then looked at her with those waiting, vulnerable eyes, Molly got nervous and dropped the first aid kit onto the space beside him as she tried to open it.

A few choice muttered words, some German and others English, left in a fluster as she grabbed at where the kit had fallen on the bed. Sam's hands also shot to pick it up—and their hands tangled, eyes met, and for a second, the two were at a standoff, neither knowing what to do. Sam finally withdrew his hands and let Molly set things up and pick up the couple items that had fallen onto the bedspread.

As she did that, she could feel him studying the side of her heated face and she forced herself to play it cool and put the embarrassing fumble behind. Once she had what she needed, she stood to her height in front of him, alcohol and cotton balls in hand. She dabbed at his cuts to disinfect them, and Sam hissed then braced himself, allowing her to finish before he spoke again. He looked vastly ashamed, and Molly could relate—her heart went out to him. Once everything was cleaned, she began to apply little adhesive bandages—one to his forehead, and two to his cheek. He watched her openly the whole time, and she artfully dodged meeting the intensity of his gaze until she was finished.

Molly regarded his injuries sadly, unable to stop herself from gently letting the backs of her fingers whisper against the unhurt part of his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Sam." Finally she met his waiting gaze.

Oceans of soul and sentiment swam with pain as he looked at her. "Me too." Made weaker by the look on his face, she wanted to embrace him, but settled for laying a caring hand onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder instead. She understood he didn't want to be together anymore—and it really hurt but she would accept it. The pining looks he gave her and the way he'd hugged her at the bus station made it a lot harder to resign herself to friendship only, but she would. She just hoped the touch wasn't misinterpreted. The way Sam's eyes searched hers though, felt distinctly much more than friendship. "You were moving because of me, right?" he finally asked, just a breath above a whisper. Very surprised at the callout, Molly could only look at him in surprise as her mouth parted open softly. Her hand fell away from him. Sam's handsome features were sad. "I'll take that as a yes."

"It's just…" she could lie. She could totally lie. But she wanted him to know. Not to hurt him, but because it felt so important for him to know how much she felt. "My heart got broken," she confessed. "And I understood why, Sam, I really did. I really do." Sad as memories of that night ran through her mind again, Molly was quiet and gaze hesitant. "I guess I thought it was time to start over."

Sam was devastated and earnest. "Molly, I care about you so much…" he said in an emotion-choked voice that made her heart squeeze up. He began to grow bitter. "Which is the exact freaking problem." He stood up and distanced himself by a couple steps as he descended into shame. Molly felt stung. "I knew better than to talk to you in Vegas," Sam continued, cynical, regretful, and full of antipathy for himself. "And now it's too late." His frustration and misery were palpable, manifesting in teary eyes and a warring expression. Molly felt her emotions rising to the surface in tandem with his—her instincts begged her to reach out and comfort him even while her mind told her not to. So the space remained between them as Sam's shoulders slumped. "I promised myself I would never feel this way ever again about someone," he admitted, which gave Molly hope and crushed her all in the same second. Disgusted with himself, Sam huffed in defeat. "God I'm so selfish."

Molly was a mite perturbed at that patently untrue claim. "You're not selfish, Sam," she said more strongly than her usual mild tone.

For a second, Sam considered believing her. And then his face hardened. "Then what am I?" he challenged, stinging her all over again. "You don't know about me, Molly." At the look on her face, he reconsidered. "Not fully." He threw a hand out, becoming incensed again. "I mean look what being close to me did for you! Got you used as a hostage, kidnapped, then an up close and personal meeting with Lucifer." His anger gave away to what was underneath: wretched fear and sadness. "Anyone I care about, ever, will be used against me. Will probably wind up dead." His eyes pled with hers. "Don't you get it? I've ruined your life, Molly."

Molly considered him for a very long moment, wishing he didn't vilify himself like he did. He might have kept a lot of information from her, but she knew his true character, including his self-loathing streak. It was important that she didn't invalidate his feelings, but she also had to honestly refute his claim. She might not have fully known Sam—but he also didn't fully know her. The tenacity he'd awoken in her, the tough girl underneath all the anxiety and issues. He had things to learn, too.

"Well," she began carefully. "You've certainly changed my idea about what the rest of my life will be like, I'll give you that much." She considered his words again earnestly. "But ruined…? I don't think so." She went a little closer to him, heartbeat going faster as she searched his gaze. "You're right. There's a lot I don't know about you." She came to a stop at arm's length away. "But I'm not scared to know the truth," she said honestly, filled with fierce affection for this man. If she'd gotten anything out of her recent experience, it was that she was done letting others call the shots when it came to what she wanted. And she wanted to tell Sam her feelings, even if he rejected her. He had to know where she stood. How much she respected him and cared for him as a person. "I wanna know," she insisted gently. "The things you've been through. Who you are."

Sam looked like nothing had ever terrified or stirred him as much. He was considering it, and that gave Molly intense hope. "If I tell you… the full story of me," he hedged, giving her wild longing for him to do just that. "The boy with the demon blood. The freakshow who abandoned everyone. Lucifer's vessel." He shook his head faintly, losing his bravado. "I don't want you to look at me differently." A self-deprecating, humorless smile came over his face. "See? Being selfish again."

Molly refused to let him see it that way, because it wasn't true. "You're not being selfish," she replied, then took a second to speak more softly. "You're scared." And she knew all about being scared.

Again, for a second, he debated her words. Then he shook his head no and stepped back a fraction, doubling his resolve to convince her away from him. "You should run as far away from me as you can, Molly. While you still can. You should have already." He really thought so little of himself. "You can still do what you were gonna do," he said softly. "Start over."

Molly studied him quietly. She wasn't sure what to say except a very soft and careful, "I think I already am." She could have guessed his reaction: he realized she meant she'd chosen to stay. He was going to argue with her. So Molly decided to be crystal clear with him, because up until now, she'd always kind of just gone along with what he wanted. It took some courage to say it, but she said it all the same. "Sam… there is no part of me that wants to be anywhere but with you right now." The bold truth, so faintly spoken, earned a stunned, touched look from Sam. Molly searched his eyes deeply, eyebrows knitting together. Did he really not get it? "…Hasn't it occurred to you that I'm just as worried about your life as you're worried about mine?"

Her gentle question rendered him speechless and surprised to the point that it made Molly sad. "You're not the only person who cares," she told him in a wavering voice, her nerves getting the better of her. Tears felt close, because she felt this so deeply and accessing the sentiment felt too huge. Still, she kept going however unsteadily. Because she was not going to live the rest of her life wishing she'd said these things to him. "I don't know how to explain it—ever since we met… I've thought about you every single day." Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her heart thundered in her ears. "And every time we're apart… all I want is to be together again." It was silly, it was sentimental… and it was reality. He had come into her life and changed everything. She had killed for this man. And she didn't want to look back.

For a moment, Sam forgot his dedication to refusing her. His eyes held tender, touched, requited things to hear what she felt. His eyes were like hers: shining with devotion. "I know…" he murmured huskily, drifting closer helplessly. "Me too." Then he remembered himself. Bitterness crept in and he held himself to a stop, jaw tensing. "But you don't have to be cursed like me, Molly." He entreated her anxiously: "You can live a normal life. You can be safe. I want that for you."

Molly nodded steadily and apologetically. "I know." It was time to tell him what she'd always felt a little too embarrassed to broach before. "I've never told you this, because I could tell how much you hate talking about it but… ever since I found out about the paranormal world, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Reading about it. Trying to find out more." She smiled uncomfortably and tried a light, awkward laugh, not sure what he thought about this news. "I mean it's not exactly information you just take in then move past and get on with your life with. And now…" She shook her head, eyes going off in thought—how could she explain to him succinctly? "I don't want normal anymore."

Sam regarded her uncertainly, not sure what to say. "Well you should," he finally commented, but he sounded confused.

Molly had little reaction to his words. "Maybe, but… I don't. I can't. Not anymore." It was him—but it was also everything she'd been thinking about the past couple days. Life before was a monochrome copy of what it was becoming now. "I understand more than maybe you think," she said, thinking about his father's journal and all the things Alex had shared. She tried for a winning smile despite how nervous she felt. Next to Sam, she was just a kitten. "I know I'm not exactly Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but…" Even kittens had claws. And she was learning to use hers. Raising her chin a little, she spoke more clearly as she claimed her power. "I wanna stay in the fight." He was one of the reasons why, and needed to know it. "You deserve to be protected too." She had known it immediately after meeting him: he was special. Beyond special. A selfless protector of others through and through. She meant what she'd said.

Sam reacted to her words by getting emotional and immediately trying to hide how much so. He had the look of someone who had been thirsty to hear exactly what she'd just said, but didn't feel they deserved it. "I… I don't know what to say right now," he managed to get out after a long silent beat, trying to smile despite teetering on the edge of a deeply emotional cliff.

Molly offered a tentative, understanding smile. "I never know what to say."

Their eye contact held and smiles gradually faded away as gazes communicated what words did not. Compelled to reach up, Molly touched his face gently, stroking her thumb side to side in the gentlest whisper against his skin. Sam swallowed—his eyes fell to her lips before he looked back into her gaze with burning slowness. Like the tide meeting shore, the two melted into each other helplessly for a sweet, slow, heartfelt kiss that smoldered between them for a heady half minute or so. Dizzy afterward, they came apart by a mere breath, Sam's hand now cradling Molly's face. He was everything: afraid, elated, torn, willing. Sensing how overwhelmed he was, Molly hugged him trustingly, closing her eyes once her ear rested on his upper chest. His heart thundered into her as he held her close.

"I do wanna tell you everything," he murmured hoarsely after a moment, and Molly pulled away to look him in the eye. He was visibly terrified of doing so, but also ready despite his fear. "Just… promise not to judge me too hard," he joked feebly, trying to cover up how scared exactly he was.

Molly was emphatic, understanding his fears exactly. "Never," she whispered back, then went onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek then circled her arms around his neck, hoping he understood how special he was to her. She didn't see how his eyes fell closed and a look of peace descended onto his face as they held each other like that.

For the briefest moment, Sam let himself receive love without feeling guilty over it.

---

Meanwhile

Alex drew back from the bed where Cas sat, horrified as he peeled off and discarded the last piece of clothing other than his pants. His chest was slashed a few times—and the slashes sort of glowed—his Grace had somehow been affected.

"The First Blade," he explained gruffly at her aghast siolence. "He attacked us all, but only used the Blade on me." Their eyes met. His resigned. Hers alarmed.

"What does this mean?" Alex asked in a horrified whisper.

Cas shook his head and clenched his jaw, visibly angry about this very poorly timed injury. "I'm weakened. Badly."

Swallowing against rising panic, Alex tried not to lose her shit. This baby would probably come in a week or two. "What can we do?"

"This isn't the kind of wound another angel could fix," Cas admitted. "Not a lower order one, anyway." His eyes glanced upward mournfully. "And I don't even know how many angels are left now." He thought for a long moment. "I'll see about getting Hannah or one of the others to come here if I'm not improved by tomorrow."

Alex nodded intently, only mildly relieved. "We have time to figure this out," she said. And then, as if on cue, she hissed and clapped a hand to her stomach as a particularly intense Braxton Hicks contraction hit. Her other hand squeezed Cas's hard as she breathed deep through the worst of it. Cas stood up and hovered and let his hand be crushed, unsure of how else to help. Alex sighed and sagged when it passed.

"Not enough time," Cas said quietly, concern knitting his features together as Alex leaned into him, a silent request to be held. Both were so worried about the future.

Mournfully, Alex patched Cas up the best she could, helped him into pajamas, and then they stayed up talking until she fell asleep in her clothes, exhausted. Cas watched over her, his injuries making it difficult to move well.

---

4:33am

Alex was startled out of a deep sleep by a loud pounding on her door. Beside her, injured and slow, Cas was trying to get out of bed from where he'd been laying beside her.

"Hey! Wake up!" It was Sam's voice.

Alex rushed over and yanked the door open, squinting at him groggily. He had his pistol out. "There's someone at the door," he said intensely, then Alex and Cas could hear exactly what he was hearing: muffled by all the surrounding architecture, an ominously rhythmic knocking at the bunker door. It echoed softly, a faint thump thump thump—thump thump thump.

"God, what now?" Alex muttered, grabbing her firearm.

The three of them went as quickly as they could—two injured hunters and one pregnant one took a minute or two. By the time they got to the door, Alex was absolutely annoyed. She made it there first by a fraction, then squinted through the viewfinder with a glare that softened away once she recognized the person on the other side.

"Who is it?" Sam asked intently, receiving a dark, bracing look from his sister as she unlocked the door and yanked it open, putting her pistol into her waistband. Mystified, Sam peered around her as the door swung open and then his face lost all expression.

Because standing there in the silver moonlight held at gunpoint by Kyle:

None other than John fucking Winchester.

Last time they'd seen him, he'd been pale and comatose. Now he stood tall and strong, dressed in a rugged jean, boot, and jacket over shirt combination. He looked like he always had, if not a touch older: His dark brown hair was streaked in salt and pepper, and his beard had become gray. He had a couple new injuries: a black eye, a cut across a cheek.

"Hey kids," he greeted. "Wanna call off your little guard dog?" He didn't even have his hands raised, despite Kyle's aim at his back. For a brief moment, Alex had enough presence of mind to wonder where the hell Kyle had gotten a real gun from. But mostly, she was zeroed in on her dad, who was casual and kind of impatient.

Sam blinked, gaping. "…Dad!" He was both shocked, stumped, and immediately incensed.

"…Where've you been?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Getting my bearings back." Dad eyed her skeptically, obviously wondering about her very pregnant condition. "You've been busy." He glanced at Cas, who remained a few steps back, glowering mistrustfully in his pajamas. Not the most awe-inspiring first impression, that was for sure. Withering, Alex was momentarily speechless.

Sam was not. "Well how nice of you to finally let us know something," he snapped, the full extent of his resentment easy for him to access in this unexpected development. "Why would you disappear without a word?" he asked. "Then show up again like nothing happened? What is wrong with you?"

John was difficult to get a read on. "I spent hundreds of years in Hell, son. And I needed some time to deal with the fallout. Alone." He sounded like his old self: blasé and clipped. "So I'm sorry, but we don't exactly have time for sentiment right now." He didn't really sound that sorry though, and his two kids balked at his brusque behavior. He dropped another bombshell on them without any warning. "I've gotten a handle on everything happening out here and I know about the trials to close Hell."

"Oh you do, do you?" Sam asked insolently. Beside him, Alex tried to reconcile the father in front of her to the father she'd been with in Hell.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna do them," John replied evenly.

That revelation helped Alex find her voice. "Wait, what? Dad—"

"I've already killed a Hellhound and delivered a righteous soul to Heaven," John said, cutting his daughter off without a second thought , leaving her to stare in wounded confusion. He turned to saunter off, which is when the group noticed the silhouette lurking behind him: the Impala. "So you know the last step."

Sam was stony. Of course he knew, after having done the trials. "Yeah, cure a demon," he muttered irreverently. "But it's gonna take more than you repo-ing the damn car to make up for this crap you keep pulling."

John opened the trunk of the Impala and looked at his kids expectantly, like he was waiting for them to walk over too. "It's not just the car, Sam."

The twins approached together with matching disgruntled frowns on their faces… until they saw what was in the trunk. In unison, their faces dropped. Because it wasn't a what, it was a who: Bound and gagged underneath a devil's trap spray painted on the trunk interior—their brother glared at them with pitch black eyes as he raged against his confines.