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.

149. Full Circle

Song Remains the Same

149 / Full Circle

"A cord of three strands is not easily broken."
— Ecclesiastes 4:12

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After Cas left, Dean did not lay back down. Instead he sat like a statue, hands gripping into the cot on either side of himself as he contemplated the doorway out. It wasn't locked or even closed. He was free to go, just as he had been ever since coming back to life. But for nearly an hour after the angel's kind visit, Dean sat there battling himself, believing he was right where he should stay: the room where threats were imprisoned.

The shit he'd subjected his loved ones to careened around his mind endlessly, leaving him feeling incompatible with life and in a stasis of sickened despair. He wanted to disappear into thin air so that he never had to face the people he'd hurt and betrayed. But those same people swirled around in his thoughts, providing every reason to stay and go toe to toe with what he'd done.

Sam, Alex, Bobby… Dad. Jamie. Rose.

His daughter filled his mind more than the rest, leaving him internally crumbled. He had barely come into her life before immediately subjecting her to the Winchester curse: a dead parent, a demon who haunted the periphery. But this time, Dean had been both: the lost parent and the stalking demon. The sound of his own baby's screams when he'd attacked everyone in the library haunted him. Made him doubt himself. Made him think he wasn't meant to be a father. Just a glorified sperm donor. Jamie had been right to lie and keep Rose's existence a secret—and that thought crushed Dean to dust emotionally, making a flood of broken tears come again.

He had become his own worst nightmare. The thing he hunted and worked to wipe off the face of the earth. A fucking goddamn demon. How was he even supposed to process that and everything he'd done? And that wasn't all that he struggled to comprehend: Dad was in the scene again. Alex had given birth to her baby. The bunker was full of people. Everything felt like it had changed in all these unfamiliar ways since he died. He was left disoriented and filled with foggy, demonic memories of hedonism and murder and cold rage the likes of which made him shudder. He relived the moment he'd been killed by Ezekiel a thousand times, aghast at how stupid he'd been. How much of a sitting duck. He kept imagining Jamie not knowing where her boyfriend had suddenly gone. Dean couldn't stop himself from envisioning her trying to figure it out as slow panic set in, their newfound baby daughter in tow. He'd left her alone when she needed him the most.

Dean stayed in this abysmal and self-loathing circle of thought until he couldn't stand it anymore. Then around five in the morning, he finally stood up and took in a deep, apprehensive breath. He couldn't sit here forever, and the longer he did, the harder it would be to peel himself out of this cave. He wasn't a quitting man. He had to try and make things right even if it killed him. And he sure as hell wasn't gonna quit or fall down on the job with Dad around to see it, either.

Feeling like he was doing some sort of walk of shame from Hell itself, Dean slunk out into the deepest and darkest part of the bunker. He made his way up to the main level slowly, second guessing himself the entire time—debating just walking out of this place point blank and never coming back. He knew he couldn't do that. But god he wanted to. The second he was greeted with the familiar hallways of the upper level, Dean had a pang of both homecoming and homesickness. For another long span of time he stood there in limbo, like a stranger might hover in the doorway of a house he wasn't supposed to be in. Dean swallowed, not even sure what he was planning. It was an ungodly hour in the morning, people would be asleep.

But finally, he started moving. Quiet as a mouse, he stole down the maze-like halls, knowing the way by heart—he'd always been good with stuff like that. When Room 11 came into view, his heart leapt to see the door wasn't shut. It had been left wide open with a dim light on. An invitation? Jamie wasn't usually a careless or forgetful person, so it had to have been done on purpose. As soon as Dean thought that, he changed his mind, because maybe she had forgotten—she had an entire child to look after now after all.

He came to where he could see into the room. The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm, cozy glow across the quiet space. Dean drifted in, recognizing his belongings—most of them exactly how he'd left them. But there were new things now. A crib, a bunch of baby stuff, and a small stack of boxes labeled 'herbs' and 'spell ingredients' and 'hex bags.' Those words would have sent him into outer space a few years ago. Today, they made him feel a tug in his chest.

And so did the people in his bed. It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in forever. Fast asleep with her daytime clothes still on, Jamie laid on her back with her head turned to the side and hair fanning out in a wild festoon of buttery blonde. On her chest with hands loosely draped over, Rose was held close in a snuggly gray onesie and slept stomach-first with her head turned the same direction as her mama. They were perfect—the definition of angels brought to life. Dean was drawn in like a magnet as every dark feeling and thought disappeared under the intensity of joy. His heart felt like it could soar…

…And then he saw the bruises on Jamie's neck.

Despair dashed away the elation he'd so briefly felt. He had done that to her. The ground was yanked out from under his feet and he suddenly saw this situation for what it was: he was an unwanted and dangerous beast, lurking near the unaware innocent. It was a scene out of an old horror movie. It was Lisa and Ben and vampire-Dean all over again.

I'm a monster. A goddamn monster.

Distressed, he turned to leave. But when he did so, the edge of his foot knocked into a box and caused a quiet little scuffle. Dean froze and winced, but it was too late.

Jamie's eyes opened in a snap, located him, and she stiffened for a microsecond—then relaxed, a look springing onto her face that Dean would never forget: an uncensored raw rush of hope, amazement, urgent relief… love maybe too. With impressively gentle swift speed, she moved Rose safely to the side then stood and unceremoniously clamped Dean into a hard hug he hadn't expected. She shook breathlessly, arms locked around him with fervency. He felt her heart thundering against his. Dean blinked, his lungs temporarily airless as he realized he was wanted and welcomed. Overcome, he took a staggered second then let his arms circle back tentatively. Her head buried in his neck, and Dean disintegrated. His eyes closed against a flood of emotion as he embraced her hard and buried his face in her shoulder, love bursting and rebuilding his every atom. They stayed there like that for a long moment, reunited at last, calming together, letting silence hold them in safety.

After, Jamie pulled back by just a breath and studied him with shining, thankful eyes. She broke his heart a little more when she traced some of his unruly hair away from his forehead. Her eyes glinted with emotion. "Hey baby Daddy," she greeted softly. It instantly made his heart twitch.

He couldn't believe this was real. Him, her, and their daughter… all in the same room. Dean heard himself replying to her in a murmured echo, a pained little smile on his face despite everything. "Hey, baby Mama."

James looked real tired and he could see she'd been burning the candle at both ends physically and mentally too, but the way her eyes were bright to see him almost erased the evidence of hardship. Almost. "I literally had to hold myself back from running down there right away when I heard they got you back," she told him, making his heart lighter and lighter. And then her smile grew tentative. Worried. "They said you were… kind of off. You okay?"

Kind of off. They. His brother and sister, who he could barely look at when he'd first come to. "Ah," Dean brushed it off uncomfortably as reality started to return. He didn't even know how to start talking about his own feelings. So he dodged. "How you two holdin' up?"

Grace and appreciativeness showed on every facet of her usually more pinched, stoic features. Jamie cupped a hand to his face, thumb gently brushing against his cheek. "A whole lot better now."

Dean wished so bad that he was worthy of that tender, hopeful look in her eyes. But he wasn't, and his sense of self hatred came rocketing back full force. He removed her hand from his face, mood crashing down. "Yeah, everyone's favorite screwup is back in town," he muttered in disgust. Her face fell. And Dean felt his disappointment in himself intensify more than he thought possible. For a second, he considered bolting. But his feet had more brains than his head did and kept him standing right where he was. He owed her a conversation at the very least.

"Look—" he started in a gutted, low voice. His mind spun with how to say what was going on with him. And then he realized first things first: "I'm so sorry, James." His eyes went to the bruises his hands had inflicted. Crestfallen, Dean's gaze met hers miserably. "About everything. All of it. And I know an apology doesn't fix shit, so I'm sorry about that too." The burgeoning sadness in her eyes was too much for him, the closeness of her body felt too comforting. So he tore away, unable to even face her. Why didn't she hate him? That would have been somehow better. He distanced himself by a few feet, shaking his head while attempting to get a grip. Jamie stayed in place respectfully, but he could tell she didn't want to.

Dean was broken. "Look, when we first found out you might be pregnant… I had this idea in my head. Like, visions of the future. You, me, our kid…" and to remember that period of time, his voice grew husky and far away. "It got me through Purgatory." For a minute he could feel a pained smile on his face as he recalled the beautiful vision he'd looked to of family, love, a child of his own… and then his smile faded into an agonized expression as he remembered the inevitable crash and burn. "Then I lost Bobby. I lost you. I lost Al, I almost lost Sammy… and man I just… I went haywire. Maybe it was a long time coming after the shit I've been through but… I dunno, guess I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to take our daughter as far away from her worthless old man as possible." He glanced at their baby girl. She was snoozing on her back with arms up around her face, pouty lips open, peaceful angelic little features soft and sweet. He loved her so much it broke his goddamn heart. He also loved her so much he would remove himself from her life if that was the right thing to do. Dean felt absolutely destroyed and bare to even think that. His eyes stung as his defenses wavered. "I messed up bad, James. I'm fuckin' cursed," he managed out of a tight throat. "I mean if we didn't have a kid, would you still be willing to talk to me?"

Jamie made something of a face. "What kind of question is that? Of course I would."

It was like he was wired backwards. Her words of acceptance made him instantly slam his guard up and feel angry. He heard the words leave his own mouth as if someone else spoke them. "Well then you're crazier than I thought."

Jamie sighed to herself and looked down before meeting his gaze obstinately. "You're not the only one who's been possessed before, Dean."

His fiery eyes snapped sidelong. "That wasn't possession," he retorted, regretting his tone even as he spoke. "And it ain't the same." Had she forgotten? "I hurt you, James!"

Unruffled, her eyebrows raised. "What, and I didn't hurt you when Abaddon was at the wheel?" Dean faltered and Jamie made another face then shrugged with hooded exasperation as she explained what they both already understood: "Hunting is some really tough shit. Comes with some pretty intense consequences. I accept those. Always have." Her expression flickered and her impatience gave way to compassion. "Look, the point is, you like that—wasn't you. I'm never gonna say it 're not responsible for what happened after you died, Dean." Her eyes began to gently pry him for answers and give away her hurt again. "Come on, D," she coaxed. "Why do you always do this? …Can you even help it?" The question was compassionate. She wanted to help him.

And so by second nature, Dean let another wry comment fly. "What, the gut instinct to push people away? Buddy, that's my signature move."

Jamie said nothing. She just gave him this patient but intolerant look that said she wasn't going to play this game with him for much longer. Dean exhaled hard, embarrassed at the dysfunctional, weird way he had of navigating his own pain. He took a long second and scrubbed a hand across his face. It was ridiculous. He was thirty-five and had the emotional finesse of a fifth-grader. Why the hell was Jamie still even here?

"Look… I just gotta put it out there and have you tell me straight, James, I don't need you trying to be nice or save my feelings or whatever." Dean's jaw gritted. Jamie and Rose both deserved so much better than to be stuck with his pathetic ass. "If you wanna leave and never see my face again, I get it, and I won't chase after. So just… lemme know what you wanna do." He went silent and sank into the terror of preparing himself for her to quit the act, sigh in relief, then say adios.

But Jamie's silence was short, sympathetic, and gentle. "If I never wanted to see you again, why would I even be here right now?" A fair point he hadn't considered. "Dean, I don't judge you."

Again, his deepest parts wanted to reach out, take hold of the love she was showing, and never let go—but his guard remained up by default, insisting on protecting him from the pain he knew came with love. "Yeah well you should," he retorted, kicking himself even as the words left his mouth. He didn't know how to stop.

Jamie sighed out again, exasperated for sure now but in a sad way. "Shut up, Dean," she muttered wearily. "You don't need to do this."

Another snide comment was ready to barrel out. But this time, Dean stopped himself and felt himself becoming unable to hide his pain."…That's the thing," he confessed, terror turning his blood to ice as he blurted the truth: "I know I don't."

The air went sort of still. "…Then tell me what's really going on with you," Jamie begged in a whisper, so soft and cautious he could barely make her voice out.

Restless and edgy, embarrassed and uncomfortable, Dean wanted to run out the door. But he held his ground. He had to try a new approach. He couldn't keep living this way. What if he tried trusting? What if he just said what he felt? He didn't want to admit how weak he truly was, but today, he chose to do exactly that and finally said the thing that had been inside of him for years, eating away at his confidence, peace, and stability: "Maybe I'm scared to find out everyone I ever care about leaves and changes their mind about me, okay?" Because everyone already fucking had, or it felt like that anyway. Saying it out loud struck him hot with petrification. His heart tore in half as he mocked himself for even daring to think he was worthy of forgiveness and mercy. "Maybe the guy who became a demon isn't worth all the bullshit, huh?" he said, making his voice he hard and impenetrable again. "Sounds like a monster who doesn't need to be around your kid."

He turned his back to her and expected her to realize oh wow you're right. But instead, she became fractionally defiant. "You're not a monster—you're her dad, Dean." Again, his heart quivered and ached. "Rose is both of ours," Jamie said with rising emphasis and he heard her come a little closer. His heart kept welling up larger and larger with every word she said. "She needs us. She needs you." There was a significant pause.

At that, Dean turned around and didn't bother to wipe the vulnerability off his features. There hadn't been time since Jamie's resurrection to even figure out where the two of them stood. Not that it had ever really been defined that well before. "What about you?" The question was soft. Cautious. Wretchedly hopeful. Because if James just wanted him there to help raise Rose and nothing else, he would somehow find it within himself to accept that and then bury his feelings away into darkness. But obviously, in his heart of hearts, he wanted so much more… and his spirit was crying out to know once and for all in concrete terms that she felt about him the way he felt about her.

Jamie was visibly plucking up her courage. He saw something profound gathering in her eyes. "…I need you, too," she finally confessed.

A thick layer of armor swept away in the flood of joy Dean felt. "…I've waited so long for you to say that," he whispered, then his exhilaration cut short. His smile fell as confusion grew. "And now that you have…" he trailed off. The shame made him ill.

"Now that I have," Jamie finished for him, "…you don't think you deserve it." Dean's eyes darted to meet hers. Her quiet, sad insight was dead on. "What happened to you with the Mark all started because of love, Dean," she insisted, appealing to him in a gentle, heartfelt way he hadn't predicted. "The kind of love I never thought existed." Tenderness grew. "The kind of love that our daughter is so lucky to have." She came closer to him cautiously. "You'll do anything for your people without a second thought. And because of that, you've carried more than most could carry in twenty lifetimes. Of course you're tired. Of course you wanna give up." She held his eyes with hers, captivating him with the way she knew his secret fears. "I know monsters. And you're not one. You save the world and the people in it every single day," Jamie continued, gentle but fierce. "For no reason except it's the right thing. Don't let that fact out of your sight." She indicated their daughter. "You saved her." Dean's throat twisted as he remembered the burnt nursery. James' voice lost volume. "…You saved me, too."

These reminders were cutting through the walls surrounding Dean's heart and he really began to listen and to let himself feel as Jamie came closer and closer, shedding her own emotional armor in the process. "I had given up, Dean," she said, sending a bolt of shock down his middle as he realized: She was about to tell him her feelings. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. His insides hovered breathlessly in hope and anxiety alike. "Before you showed up in my life again, I was just waiting to die. I didn't even think I knew how to feel anymore." There was a helpless, quiet little smile. "You proved me wrong about everything." Her voice wavered. "You saw something in me. You fought for me. You refused to give up. And that changed me forever." She was close now. "So now, this is me refusing to give up on you." She searched his eyes meaningfully. "And not because I owe you." Her nervous lips rolled inward briefly before she gathered enough courage to let the truth be known. "…Because I love you too."

Immediately, he knew she was responding to his declaration from nearly two months ago when she'd been possessed by Abaddon. He'd told her that he loved her. Now, finally, here was his reply: I love you too. His heart brimmed, his eyes pricked, his breath caught. He opened his mouth to reciprocate—and then found himself inexplicably coursing with terror. "Baby, look at the family I came from," he protested weakly, falling back on his fears even though all he wanted was to grab her and kiss her. "I'm gonna fail you. Both of you. Yeah maybe my heart's in the right place, but look at my track record—I'm gonna fuck it up. I'm gonna let you down, it's all I ever do." And he couldn't handle that thought.

Jamie agreed with him in an unexpectedly evenhanded way. "Yeah, you will let me down. And I'll let you down too." She said it so matter-of-fact. "That's just people being people." She offered an encouraging little expression. "You and I can get through anything together."

Dean stared as his veins buzzed with disbelief. "So what, you… you just wanna accept what happened and move forward?" All that crap that had gone down was just… forgotten?

Her answer was simple. "Yeah." Her head canted to the side a little. "What do you want though?"

Dean laughed out so softly it was just air. That was a dumb question. "You know what I want," he said, because he'd always been the pursuer when it came to the two of them. "I know what I want." The same thing he'd wanted all along ever since realizing he'd fallen in love with the last girl he'd ever meant to: Love, just without an ending this time. That's where the roadblock was. That's where he faltered. "I'm just…" he wet his lips and stayed in thought for a long moment. It wasn't easy to say. But when it came to her, he knew he was safe to say it. So he went out on that limb, trusting she would meet him on it. "I'm scared to death of how many ways it can go wrong." Hell, it already had gone wrong.

Jamie nodded. "Me too." She reached out for his hand and he took it. Good feelings came at the touch of skin to skin. For a second, they stood there like that, calming. "I doubt we'll ever be perfect," she finally said. "I know we still have a lot to learn about each other. Things will definitely go wrong. We'll have fights, and disagreements—and we're probably always gonna get on each other's last damn nerve." An unexpectedly impish moment passed where they both hid little smiles. "But… I got your back. And I wanna be together." She was almost shy when she said it, which made Dean feel intensely romantic and protective. "I have for a really long time," she confessed, making his feelings soar higher. "And if not now… someday's okay with me."

Dean shook his head, feeling more than he ever had for her before. Just like that, he was on solid ground again. "Screw someday," he murmured huskily. "Now's good." He gave a gentle yanking pull, catching her by brief surprise as their chests collided. For a second, their eyes did all the talking. And then, both finding grins growing, Jamie grabbed him, he circled her in his arms, and they crashed into a kiss. It was eager and strong at first, then slowly became more soft and reflective—deep and profound. Nothing had changed, and that kiss proved it, leaving them both breathless and surprised at the intensity. "Goddamn I love you," Dean whispered against her lips afterward. He curved some of her hair behind an ear, letting himself believe they could make it. Letting himself trust what existed between them. It had gotten them this far, after all. "Whatever's next… we face it," he declared softly, his spirit becoming more and more courageous. "'Cause we're…" he trailed off, voice catching. "We're family now." He watched emotion work her face, then they looked in tandem at their baby. Rose was the surprise and joy of a lifetime. She deserved everything that neither of her parents had never gotten to experience. "I'm gonna give her the life we never had," Dean swore with utter severity.

Jamie smiled softly as their eyes met again. Hope lived in those blue depths. "We both will." A feeling like no other settled over Dean, softening him in all the hyper-vigilant, rigid places. It wasn't just him carrying the load. He laced his fingers through hers then pulled her hand to his mouth where he laid a kiss on the knuckles. He breathed inward, lips and nose resting against warm skin. It was different this time. And he'd always known it was different with her. Maybe that's why it was so terrifying. The other partners he'd picked had been people he could hold at arm's length. People he expected to leave—people he knew wouldn't follow him down certain dark roads. And now here was Jamie, who wouldn't just follow him down those roads—no, she'd be right at his side, ready to fight with him and for him.

It was something deep they were on the edge of here today. Something lifelong and meaningful. To look into her pale blue eyes now and recognize the trust that had grown between them, the respect, the teamwork they'd developed, the camaraderie mixed with passion, the way they just fit together and had fun, understood each other without many words—now adding in the fact that they had a beautiful seven month old daughter to love and raise—it gave Dean so much hope and purpose. So much gratitude.

"There's a lot of catching up we gotta do," he murmured after a second, mildly overwhelmed when he thought about how muchso. Not just as the two of them or as a tiny little new family of three, but the entire world was going to shit from what Dean could remember, and it would be on him and his family to fix things as per fucking usual…

Stopping his thoughts in their tracks, James pulled his hand to her mouth and surprised him by kissing his knuckles too. "Later," she murmured, then pulled him gently toward the bed. "Let's just lay together awhile for now?"

As a man who felt like he hadn't rested in years, Dean didn't even contemplating resisting. He'd walked into this room feeling like a villain. But as he let his girlfriend pull him into bed, he felt a reverent sense of belonging and peace he hadn't expected.

It was surreal, like the scene out of a movie he never thought he could star in: The two of them settled in, nestling Rose in between them in a big family cuddle. Holding both his girls brought him to tears, and Jamie silently cuddled close, letting him feel his feelings without comment. The only worry currently on Dean's brain was that his baby would remember the demon version of him and be afraid. But somehow, he knew they would get through whatever the next day brought—and then the next, and then the next. He was especially convicted of this belief when in her sleep, baby Rose's hand clenched onto one of his fingers and didn't let go. His entire heart melted when she did that.

For as turbulent as he'd felt downstairs just an hour ago, a promise began to live deeply in Dean's heart that there was a way past everything. His despair faded heartbeat by heartbeat. As he stroked a gentle thumb over his baby's strong grip on his index finger, he thought of Sammy and Al and how much he had to say to them come morning. But instead of total dread, he felt pricks of hope letting light into where darkness had been before. It would definitely be hard, and awkward, and possibly painful to confront everything he'd done. But he was gonna do it anyway.

It wasn't long before he fell asleep with his nose buried in his baby's tickly little hairs. Jamie watched with tears of her own—but at last after so many nights alone without Dean, they were happy tears. She let herself feel it all, memorize it all, and recognize how special it was because come wakeup, Dean would have a lot to face. Not only his feelings about himself, but Lucifer's return and the impending second apocalypse.

However, just for this night (what little was left of it), Jamie just wanted him to have a moment of serenity, belonging, and rest. Some indiscriminate amount of time later, she fell asleep too, her hand on Dean's, finger's grazing their daughter's hand.

---

Later That Day
Mid-Morning

The tiny infirmary that the Men of Letters had built seemed to be an afterthought in design—tucked away behind the stairway that led to the exit from the bunker, the space had the sterile feel of a very small emergency room—three hospital-style beds were accompanied by a locker-style medical supply closet, a couple of rolling stand-poles for IV drips, a few outdated health monitors, and not much else.

John Winchester laid in the middle bed, unresponsive as he'd been since the cure had been completed. Alex sat at the end of that bed as she had for hours, cradling her son close and rocking absently, her mind a mired warzone that showed no signs of stopping. Questions remained, plaguing her worn down, frantic, worried mind:

Would Dad wake up again?

Had Hell successfully been shut or not?

Would Dean ever be okay again?

There were other problems too. But right now, Alex just couldn't focus on anything else except last night's events: The anticipatory fear of what would happen as the cure progressed, the hope mingled with dread and sheer terror, the surprising revelations about Dad's childhood, the harsh accusations and barbs demon-Dean had flung at everyone—they still echoed and stung. They still made her question… was he right about her being the weakest link? And worse still: Did he truly hate her?

The past few months—no, scratch that—the past few years had been relentless. A nonstop whirlwind of ever-heightening stakes. A tornado that tried to rip apart everything and everyone. Alex was, in one word, exhausted. Ready for it to just stop already. But there was no choice left except to endure and hope for an end eventually. An end where her family survived. An end where the rest they had earned finally came to them.

Speaking of rest: CJ stirred and moaned softly in his sleep, prompting Alex to softly shh. She kissed his head and closed her eyes for a moment as she swayed back and forth enough to provide some feeling of rhythm to soothe him. In that moment, despite everything, Alex felt herself smiling ever so softly. Her son was giving her strength without even knowing it. Providing an anchor that kept her from washing away into the riptide of grief, regrets, and fear. Opening her eyes back up after a moment, Alex's sore, tired gaze drifted to the doorway. Cas had faithfully been by her side most of the night and morning. He was now in the kitchen because he insisted it was time that she eat something. He was so wonderful.

And she guessed he was right about food, but appetite was hard to find when her father was comatose and Dean had been too traumatized to even hug either of his siblings when he incarnated back into himself. He'd barely said anything at all, and insisted on being left alone almost angrily. As a result, Sam had shut himself away somewhere unknown to cope with his emotions, whatever those emotions were. It hurt badly. It felt like abandonment, a feeling Alex thought she should just be apathetic to by now. But it stung more than ever… and she just wanted her family back. She shut her eyes against painful emotion she desperately didn't want to be feeling. Her son's first memories of his mother shouldn't be of her crying in despair.

The others in the bunker were quiet and knowing. Drifting in and out of public spaces with drawn faces and little said out loud. Waiting apprehensively for whatever this new day would bring. Alex was helplessly stuck with them all in this terrible emotional waiting room of trying to believe for the best, but bracing for the worst…

A barely perceptible rustling of the sheets tore Alex from rumination and her gaze flew up to the head of the bed. Her heart leapt at what she saw: John Winchester stared back at her with confused, groggy eyes. He was awake!

Immediate and powerful relief broke over. Alex was already standing and going to his side, shifting the baby over so that she could take hold of Dad's arm and get a good look at him. His senses and motor skills seemed a little slow, but he did look at her and the baby, then took stock of himself for a brief, stunned second. Alex's face softened as she saw that he had his wits and was indeed himself. "Hi Dad."

It took him a minute to respond. His voice was hoarse and low. "So I'm still here, huh." He sounded disappointed almost.

Alex gently sat beside his waist. "Still here."

John's eyes continued to gather clarity, and the downtrodden quality disappeared in favor of the beginnings of urgency. He sat up by a few fractions, looking ready to leap out of bed. "What happened to Dean?"

Alex's hand was already bracing his shoulder. "He's alive," she assured him, touched deeply by his priorities. "You did it."

Relief broke the hard edges on John's rigid face and a soft exhale came out. He relaxed back onto the bed, which was already angled up a bit to allow him to lean rather than lay flat. "That's real good news." Then there was a falter and concern reappeared. "He okay? Like… mentally?"

Alex's face answered before her words did, which made her father's apprehension grow. "He was really… upset," she said gingerly, trying to be vague. "Still haven't really talked to him, but… he's here." And for now, she guessed that had to be enough. She couldn't stay on the thought of Dean too much, because it was so gut-wrenching.

Nodding faintly, Dad thought it over for a couple beats. "That's a start," he conceded with another soft exhale and faraway eyes. "If he's anything like me, he'll need a day or two hundred to just get his bearings again."

CJ made a soft, sleepy sound and Alex looked at her baby, wondering if he was about to wake up even as she hesitated about asking her father a question she so desperately wanted to know the answer to. In the end she couldn't help herself: "Is that where you went…? After we got pulled out of Hell?" Her eyes slid to him. To quote unquote 'get his bearings again'?

Dad's eyes, a pained color so like her own, met hers with resigned quality. John Winchester hated talking about feelings, and everyone knew it. He didn't apologize, he didn't often express affection, he didn't do much but command and question and accuse and inform. But today, he surprised her with an honest, considerate answer after a long moment of deliberation. "…A lot really hit home when we got yanked outta Hades, kiddo." Eyes avoiding hers, his brows pressed in together. He visibly had a hard time putting it to words. And Alex hung onto each and every one. "It's like…. everything crashed down onto me. All at the same time. I could barely breathe." He stared ahead of himself, expression vaguely sick like he couldn't understand his own internal world. "Still feel that way." His eyes chanced a guilty look into hers, then he looked at CJ and his voice wavered and waned. "But I knew my family needed me. And the thought of closing Hell… well, that made me think, 'maybe now I can finally do something to make it right.'" He met her gaze with grit, and a long, wounded silence was shared. "It'll never be right, but…" he trailed off, losing some emotional strength. "I had to do something." He came to a dead end and shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry I left without saying where I was going," he whispered, eyes on his lap. "Don't know what I was thinking."

Grief was a wild animal. And after last night, Alex chose to forgive rather than stay stuck on the past. "It's okay."

John shook his head with surprising readiness. "It's not." He met her gaze bravely. "But I appreciate you saying that." And just then a sudden new thought made his urgency return. "Did we close Hell?"

Alex had to shrug apologetically. "We don't know yet, but if the spell was good… I mean, I assume yes." Time and tests would tell. For the moment, an awkward silence spanned. Then Alex's eyes followed her dad's gaze to the spot he was suddenly interested in on his arm. He touched careful fingers to the ugly red scar. Even the sight of it made a chill come onto Alex's skin and she held CJ a little closer. "How's it feel?" she whispered, struck by an inexplicably reverent terror. The Mark of Cain.

His eyes stayed in place, considering his new lifelong companion. "Dark," he finally replied, then looked her in the eye again. New, tenacious purpose rested there and made him seem stronger. "I can handle dark." He smiled cynically at the irony and had to admit: "Dark and I go way back." She knew how true that was. Alex tried for the camaraderie of a smile, but it was more sad than anything else. Her view of him was shifting after yesterday, requiring her to look at him with a new gaze. She always thought she knew John Winchester: an angry man on a revenge mission. He had been monolithic, a dark cloud she didn't dare question and couldn't even speak to until Castiel changed her life. Now… she knew she didn't have her father figured correctly. He was a mystery. A question mark. And she wondered if she would ever really get to see him. That was up to him. So she wasn't going to hold her breath. But she was gonna hope. That instinct just came naturally to her, despite everything.

She checked on CJ again. He was still fast asleep but now with his face turned upward, cheek squished against her chest, pouting mouth slightly open as he snoozed peacefully. Her heart pulled like it always did at the sight of his little face. The lines on her expression melted as a smile borne of love overtook her features. He was an angel. Her angel. The kind of angel she'd always imagined. Pure love, pure trust. She touched his head affectionately, lost in the wonder he inspired. 'Incredible' had new meaning thanks to him.

Alex was reminded that her father was right there when he spoke up softly in the kind of voice she didn't know she'd ever heard from him. "Y'know, I gotta say Alexandra." Such was the tender quality of his tone that Alex's eyes darted to his, her face lost expression, her heart began to race, and her nerves began to sing in a burst of anticipatory adrenaline. He had the look of someone about to confess something momentous. And he did. "You really make me proud to be your dad."

Shocked emotion clapped like thunder, rendering her momentarily speechless and frozen. Was he dying? Leaving? "…Why are you saying that to me right now?" she finally whispered, eyes glassing up with tears.

His answer wasn't immediate. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me out there last week." He wasn't making eye contact. "And you're right about me. Always have been." The validation that came from hearing the thing she never thought she would hear was insurmountable. Too stunned to know how to react, Alex had become a statue. Dad looked younger and more scared than she'd ever seen him. He was gathering his courage. "I don't think I'll be too good at it, but I'll give it a shot anyway. What you asked me to do." He took a long, difficult moment and finally looked at her directly. "I'll try," he promised solemnly, guarding vast emotion behind his eyes. "And it'll be different. I promise." He softened as she reacted to words that yet again, she thought she'd never heard from him. "Don't cry, baby," he beseeched softly, still every bit as awkward as ever. But like he said. He was trying: His hand came to touch her arm briefly and uncertainly.

Alex shrugged, smiling through the abrupt onslaught of tears. "Crying's just my thing," she halfway joked, already shifting the baby to the crook of her arm so she could lean into her dad and give him a gentle hug. Her arm looped around his neck as her other held CJ close. Dad's arms carefully hugged back. Father and daughter stayed like that.

John's breathing shuddered and shook unevenly with emotion he was restraining. "Your mother woulda been so proud," he finally whispered in a suddenly husky voice. Alex's eyes shut tighter, her breaths came shorter. The things her dad was saying left her feeling like she could take on the world all by herself. A fierce whisper tickled the hairs of her neck a few seconds later. "I love you, you know that?"

A soft smile relaxed across a tear-streaked face with closed eyes. She did know that. "I love you too Dad."

Maybe not expecting such an immediate and affirmative response, John choked out a sob and tightened his arms around her. For a minute, they both said nothing and instead just felt. When they'd finally gotten a hold of themselves, they mutually let go. Both had tear-streaked faces. This was new territory, and neither quite knew what to do.

Alex cautiously took the first step. "Wanna hold your grandson?"

Dad's eyes flicked up to meet hers apprehensively, butthenhe accepted the offer with a "yeah I do," and held his arms out to receive the infant. Fast asleep, CJ nestled into his grandfather's arms easily, and John looked at him for a long, increasingly sentimental moment. His wrinkles softened as a smile curved the edges of his eyes up. "Last time I held a baby was you and Sammy," he finally murmured, then met Alex's eyes with shining ones of his own. He looked at her for a long beat, his eyes full of a nostalgic quality they didn't often display. It felt very weird, but also wonderful. Dad smiled down at the little guy fondly after the moment passed. "You sure picked a helluva time to be born, didn't you Champ?" he asked. Alex watched with a bursting heart as her father was gentle with her son. He contemplated CJ's face for a long and thoughtful moment, probably still wondering about how his daughter had grown a baby in four months and what a half-human, half-angel child would even be like.

"Stay here with me awhile, will you?" he finally requested. "Tell me more about all this." It was a mellow, respectful ask. Zero demand or expectation to be found.

Alex nodded, in a dream, feeling her spirit continuing to rise upward into the brightest of sunlight. She recognized what was happening here today: the miraculous beginnings of reparations and healing. Both of which had been a lifetime in the making.

---

Later

The old coffeemaker groaned dramatically as it began to brew and Alex tapped fingers absently against the stainless steel counter it sat on, waiting for the caffeine she so dearly needed. Nearby, Cas balanced the tasks of holding their son while poring over several newspapers with a pen in hand. He was on the hunt for anything that might be apocalypse related.

Alex contemplated the coffee carafe sightlessly, falling into drifting thoughts yet again. Earlier with Dad had been… interesting. Good. Awkward. Encouraging. Long overdue, and very surreal. It hadn't gotten too much deeper—in fact it had stayed more surface level. That was okay with Alex. A relief, kind of. Deep water was difficult to tread when you weren't used to it. And neither father nor daughter was too familiar with this new dynamic. The biggest takeaway with their sort of fumbling interaction was that Dad was verifiably trying. When the past was taken into full consideration, maybe it wouldn't have seemed like enough. But it was everything.

She'd thought about it maybe a hundred times now: the moment he'd said he was proud of her. That had been something she'd waited a lifetime to hear. The feeling it had given stayed inside, warming a part of her that had been cold and necrotic.

The coffee drip began and Alex eyed it with half-attention, reminding herself like she did every single time she used this impossibly shitty machine that we need to buy a new one. Even as she thought that, a softly wry chuckle escaped. The world was probably ending soon (and honestly, when wasn't it?), so why bother. With a rueful shake of the head, Alex thanked herself for having a sense of humor about things right now instead of having a meltdown, and thought briefly about how far she'd come since Dad's death eight years ago. He'd actually remarked today at one point how different she was—how grown up. It's because somewhere along the line, she really had grown up. Life had required such. But despite the fact that Alex had technically been an adult for over a decade now… she only recently had stopped feeling like a useless kid. The growth she had achieved and worked at was something she was proud of herself for. But to have others notice and acknowledge it too… especially her dad… well, that felt really good.

As she thought of her family, her mind inevitably yet again turned to Dean. At this point, she was valiantly holding herself back from intruding into his chosen solitude. But come three o'clock, she was gonna check in on him. That was her internal compromise with herself. That was as long as she could last without going absolutely nuts. She glanced at the clock. Not too much longer now. Restless, she exhaled and told herself to be patient, then briefly wondered about Sam again. She hoped he'd make an appearance soon.

Sending another glance over at Cas, she found him already looking at her with gentle appreciation and love. Her tense feelings relaxed away. A smile that reflected the same things back to him crossed her face gently. Seeing him with their son always caused her a moment of softness and pause… of completion and serenity. She loved them both so much, and hoped so hard that she could keep them both safe from what was happening. That was another reason they needed Dean back: how were they supposed to face another apocalypse without him?

As if on cue, Cas's eyes flicked over a couple of degrees, looking at the space behind Alex with surprise. Even before she could wonder what he was looking at, clear as a bell she felt an energetic shift in the room and knew. Her thoughts dropped away as she turned around in what felt like slow motion. There, standing in the nearby entrance to the kitchen like he'd never been gone at all… her long-lost brother. Joy sprang up immediately to see his familiar face.

"Morning," he greeted with nervousness and slight embarrassment. "Well, afternoon I guess."

Alex heard Cas standing up behind her. "Dean!" she exclaimed softly, so surprised that for a moment she was stuck in place.

He offered a brief and sheepishly uncomfortable smile. "Yeah, figured it was time to come outta hiding." Dean looked worlds better than last night: washed and dressed in clean clothes with his hair neatly styled. But more than that, just from the look on his face, Alex could see that he was feeling more like himself again—albeit apprehensive.

Alex had to force herself not to rush him as she rediscovered the ability to move. "You okay?" she asked, approaching cautiously while desperate to know what he was thinking.

He remained withdrawn and jumpy. "Well, I'm still here. So that's a start." Alex felt her heart sinking at the way he was still so emotionally retreated, but she saw the tenderness grow on his face as Cas approached. In the angel's arms, a wide awake and happy baby caused a catch in Dean's voice: "So this must be the famous Cas Junior, huh?"

Holy shit. Alex realized with a rush of adrenaline that this was the moment. The one she'd dreamed of and hoped for. She hadn't anticipated it to suddenly happen exactly now, but here it was anyway. Abruptly emotional and shaking, she made the introduction in a dreamlike state as she took her baby from Cas: "Hey Ceej, this is your Uncle Dean." Hopeful and worried, just wanting her brother to be proud of her, she watched his face.

Dean came close and put a hand behind Alex's, joining her in supporting CJ's head. A wordless action that said so much. "Hey little dude," he greeted softly, melting his sister's heart with the way he locked eyes with her son. "I'm the fun uncle, just so we're clear here." CJ sputtered and cooed, appearing receptive to the declaration. Dean chuckled and so did Alex, and brother and sister met gazes. And then without warning, Dean's careful demeanor fell and his face twisted up. There weren't words for how either felt in this moment—but luckily, the two of them were well practiced with silent communication. Dean put an arm around Alex and kissed the side of her head hard before she ducked her head into the crook of his neck and looped a tight arm around his waist. She held on hard for the memory of how close he'd been to slipping away, pressing her face into him as she fought to not break down and sob. "You did it, Al," he whispered tearfully. Four words that made her clutch onto him even harder. Dean laughed weakly, trying to minimize his tears. "Aw man, someone chopping onions?" he joked feebly, a hand rubbing her back then tightening into her shirt.

Nearby, Cas's proud expression grew perplexed. "Dean, it seems fairly obvious that no one is cutting up any vegetables in here." He looked more closely at the hunter, eyes narrowing. "…Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

A grin split Dean's haggard, tear-tracked features as Alex dissolved into a tearful chuckle against him. "Cas you gigantic dork." Dean reached out and pulled Cas into the huddle. "Just look at you three. I'm so fuckin' proud." He again lost composure and pinched his nose, cleared his throat, then wiped his face off. "Ah geez."

Sensing that the Winchesters needed a moment to themselves, Cas reached for his son. "Here." He settled the baby into his arms and offered the brother and sister a kind smile. "We'll let you two catch up."

Dean returned the smile and softly petted CJ's hair. "Alright, Jimbo," he said in an especially sweet tone Alex remembered hearing a lot when she had been really young. "Be good for Dad, or Uncle Dean's gonna have to have a talk with you." Alex's heart pulled and ached in the best of ways—this was all she'd dreamed and more.

Proud and happy, Cas beamed down at his baby. "We'll go to the library, won't we, my boy?" he asked CJ, then gave Dean a significant look. "I've been reading him the Bhagavad Gita. I think he appreciates the narrative framework."

Brief surprise and amusement showed as Dean tried to figure out if it were a joke. It was not, and Cas's content expression showed as much. "…Right…" Dean replied, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "'Cause everyone knows babies love a good ancient holy book."

Cas smiled covertly. "Exactly." He kissed Alex on the side of the head quickly, then sent each Winchester a parting smile before he left.

"Well he hasn't changed," Dean commented in amusement, for a moment appearing light and carefree… until he met his sister's gaze. Then guilt and shame dulled him. Made him quieter and painfully unsure. Her smile fell too, because she knew what he was thinking before he even said it. "I'm… I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you through all this," he said after a moment of struggling to find words. This time, the tears gathered in his eyes weren't from tender emotion. They were from gutted regret and guilt. "Kills me."

It hurt her too, and hearing him say as much made it feel even worse. "I know." An entire world of pain and regret rested in those two words. Her first pregnancy, and Dean had barely been involved—she knew they would both always mourn this reality. "But you're here now," Alex reminded, refusing to care about anything else right now. "I thought I lost you." Remembering how real that feeling had been was enough to leave her tearful. "Last night, when you came back… I haven't slept since. Been so worried." She peered into his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of a house at the fence, trying to see into the living room. It was impossible to tell what was going on with him. "How are you? Really."

He took a second to huff out an overwhelmed breath and then answered with rueful honesty. "Fucked up. But who wouldn't be, right?"

A fair question indeed. She studied him closely, learning little in the process. "How much do you remember…?"

"About what, being a demon, or the cure?" Dean remained glum. "'Cause the answer to both is pretty much everything. I mean, some stuff's a little foggy but I got the gist, you know?" Alex's eyebrows floated upwards fractionally. Everything. Immediately, a hunch grew that some very dark experiences had followed Dean from his time as a demon, and her immediate response was to worry about his mental wellbeing. He was already onto other things though: "Dad okay?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." She didn't miss the heartwarming fact that both men had both taken immediate concern for the others status. "He's taking it easy right now."

Dean began to soften as hope grew and his worries began to relax away. "What about Sammy?"

Deflating, Alex had to admit she pretty much didn't know. "He was brooding around in the library earlier but haven't seen him in a few hours. He's been pretty out of it since you came back." And so had she.

Dean understood and assigned himself more guilt over it. "I'm sorry…" he murmured, eyes having trouble meeting hers. "I just… I was shattered apart, you know?"

She felt nothing but protective compassion and hoped he knew she didn't hold it against him. "Of course you were. Anyone would be." His uncertain eyes raised up into hers—the same eyes she'd seen go shallow with wild panic when he reawakened as himself. Fear, self-loathing, inability to even comprehend what had happened still shadowed his face. She knew those awful feelings too well and wished so badly she could snatch them away from him. "Feeling any better now?" she asked hopefully.

"I…" he took a few long beats to think. No definitive answer came. Instead, there was heaviness. Brother and sister looked at each other for a long, charged moment, each full of things needing to be said—neither knowing how to broach the alien chasm that existed between them. Then Dean said what they were both thinking: "Shit went weird between us awhile ago didn't it."

He startled her with that one. She grieved his question and the answer she had to give. "Yeah. It did." Her emotional strength waned and her heart began to ache. Her head hung as she thought about the beginning of the problems between them. All could be traced back to one person: "It's all my fault."

"Wait." Dean's face morphed into a frown. "…How would it be your fault?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"Because…" she started then stopped, doubting herself. One specific accusation haunted more than most. "…Have you really never gotten over me leaving you to 'rot' with Lisa and Ben?" she finally asked, not really wanting the honest answer. Because she already knew the reply, deep down.

Understanding dawned in his green eyes, followed quickly by reluctance. "That… that did do something to me," he finally admitted after an uncomfortable pause. Alex's heart fell to her toes even as Dean hurried to soften the blow. "And I don't hold it against you, Alex, I really don't. It… just hurt bad." He held a lecturing finger up. "And don't you forget I've done my screwed up shit too. I mean hell, the only reason you ran off after Sam died was 'cause of how I was acting about you and Cas. That's when things changed. Not Lisa and Ben. Not Stull. It was when Cas first came around." He exhaled wearily and shrugged. "And don't get me wrong. I know things had to change. I get that now." His eyes held hers sadly, a thousand shared experiences and memories lingering between the siblings. "So if you're gonna blame anyone for shit being different between us… blame me. I wasn't exactly… supportive."

She remembered well. But couldn't let him take the fall. "You were just looking out for me," Alex insisted fiercely. "Best you knew how."

He considered her statement uncertainly. "Maybe I was, but—" Dean huffed, eyes downcast. "Man I got it wrong sometimes."

True enough. But. "I got it wrong too, Dean." Many times over. "Maybe now's our chance to do things different." Dean's eyes raised up and Alex struggled for a second, swallowing a surprisingly painful lump in her throat. She abruptly feared the worst, and became exceedingly tearful because of it. She squashed the emotion down as best she could, trying to be brave and optimistic, even though she was in truth absolutely terrified. "Is it too late to… I dunno, be us again?" Her volume wavered and dropped. "Are things gonna change? I mean, you have Jamie now… we both have kids."

Things already had changed. In such profound, surreal, permanent ways. Which was a major reason why Alex suddenly felt this spiral of fear and anxiety and anticipatory loss. Maybe her time spent with Dean close by was just… over.

A strange expression rested on Dean's face. "Come on Al. How's that even a question?" It was easily a question. For her anyway. And he saw that then softened. "C'mere, will you?" Relieved, she went into his waiting arms for a long, sweet hug they both desperately needed. It was the kind of embrace they hadn't shared in a long time. Lingering, comforting, and vulnerable. His chin tucked on top of her head, his strong arms stayed around her, their faces buried in each other for a long moment. Dean's voice rumbled through her when he finally broke the gentle silence. "Thing's ain't changing, sweetheart. Never. You hear me? Never." He pulled back just a bit, a hand on either side of her head. A smile grew and tenderness rested deeply in his eyes. "You're always my girl. Like no one else ever can be." He tapped a finger against the bottom of her chin—a silent 'keep your head up.' The smile that came over her face was accompanied by a new kind of tear running down her cheek. And Dean wiped it away, looking at her and seeing her over the years, not just right now. She knew that, because she was feeling the same. "We've been through a lot, kiddo," he sighed. "Held each other together like glue whenever no one and nothing else could. Had each other's backs, carried each other's loads. Ain't about to stop now just 'cause we hit a speed bump or five hundred."

Nodding, she took hold of his face with gentle fierceness. "I love you so much," she whispered intensely, full of thousands of words she wanted to say to him—yet none of them could convey how much she meant it, or how deep the feeling went. And whatever had gone wrong between them, she would do anything in her power to fix. Her hands left his face and they hugged again tightly.

He nodded, choked up. "I love you too," he rasped, letting himself be fully vulnerable. His arms tightened. "Man do I love you." Hope burned brighter and brighter in Alex's chest, rebuilding her trust and confidence brick by brick. "Hey and uh—I remember what you said to me. When me wasn't me." Alex pulled back to look at him, half-puzzled and half-amused, not even sure what he was talking about. His eyes took on a hopeful, tender quality that was unmistakable. Then it made sense. "If you're still down… 'together forever' sounds pretty good to me."

Oh. A huge, disbelieving smile broke her face as she realized he was responding to her heartfelt, desperate wish spoken aloud in the prison room roughly a week and a half ago. "If we both survive all this, I want us to make a promise,"she'd told him—just in case."Never to be apart like that ever again."

Alex almost attacked her brother then and there with the world's biggest hug. But the insecurities were waiting, and caused massive doubt. Her surge of joy ebbed. "Of course I am, but…" she trailed off as Dean's expression faltered. "I'm not… I'm not some babysitting job?" she chanced faintly. Understanding came into her brother's eyes. "Weakest link in the family?" It had been so convincing when he said those things last night. A callback to ways she had felt for years.

A soft smiled tinged by pain accompanied the faintest shake of the head. "You know you're not. Never have been." Dean let out the quietest, most brow-beaten laugh, shaking his head faintly to himself. "Let's be real, Mouse. People always acted like I was the one taking care of you. When it was you taking care of me. Giving me someone to be, a purpose in life. 'Cause who the hell am I apart from a big brother, you know?"

That question got him a sad, lecturing smile. "You're a whole hell of a lot more than 'big brother' and you know it too." He acknowledged her statement with a self-conscious little smile as he looked down. That's when Alex became teary again. "But—" Dean looked back up curiously. "I'd be lying if I said 'brother' wasn't my favorite part of who you are."

Touched, Dean turned a shade impishly affectionate. Pride and joy were easy to see on his face. "Yeah well, you're kinda biased."

Alex played along, equal parts tender and playful. "Juuust a little."

They hugged again—more relaxed this time. More at peace. Because now, they knew where they stood, and it was the same place they always had: together. Suddenly remembering when this brother of hers had been baby-faced and brash, just a young hunter whose greatest joy in life was the people who rode in the Impala with him, a keen sense of longing for the way things were briefly rolled over Alex. She shut her eyes and squeezed tighter, thinking about all these years with Dean. All the places time had taken them both. Yet always back to each other. Always back to each other. That was something special. Something that gave her faith it would always be this way. And if the end of the world really was here… goddammit, at least they'd be together.

Dean abruptly shifted. "…Sammy!" he exclaimed, prompting the hug to end. Sure enough, as they came apart, Alex saw their taller brother in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Dean!" Already on the way over with an overjoyed and surprised look on his face, Sam and Dean slammed into a hug. Alex melted to see it. Afterward, Sam held onto Dean, concern and relief showing in his keen hazel eyes. "Feeling okay?"

Dean tried a grin that came off more like an anxious grimace. "Like total shit. Which uh, actually brings me to my next point." He wet his lips nervously and glanced at their sister. "I uh… I actually wanna talk you both about something. But maybe the kitchen's not the place for what I have in mind." He jerked his head, indicating they follow him. "Let's go somewhere a little more private."

---

Dean took them to one of the rooms further back in the bunker, one that was sort of blink-and-you-miss-it. Sam and Alex didn't ask questions. Just accompanied. Dean flicked the sputtering lights on as they walked in and saw that it was just like he'd left it: boxes piled everywhere, contraptions and parts that would someday make his vision come to life—a bookshelf lined with items that made him happy—and five various sized recliners set up in a loose circle around a tiny TV tray table. A neatly stacked deck of cards was still there from the last game he played months ago with Sam and Jamie. Back when the bunker had felt big and empty. Now it felt a whole helluva lot smaller and more full.

"I got plans for this room, did Sam tell you?" Dean asked over his shoulder as they entered.

Alex spotted a piece of paper taped up. "The writing's on the wall." She pulled the paper off and waggled it at him, narrating the bold sharpie scrawl with an entertained smirk. "'Dean's Man Cave'?"

He gestured proudly, indicating the space in a grand way. "Picture this: Killer sound system, big screen TV, huge fridge for beer, nice big couch for naps… hell, maybe even some dart targets and a pool table." A place of his own. Which of course he'd always share with them.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. "We'll never have to go to a bar ever again."

Dean pointed a finger at him, grinning briefly. "Exactly. Introverts rejoice." As soon as he smiled and felt that burst of brightness in his spirit, he was sorely reminded about reality. His brief good mood faded away under the weight of thoughts on his betrayals and mistakes. Getting serious, he cleared his throat and readjusted his stance, nervous to try and make things right with his siblings. "Look… all joking aside… I owe you both an apology. But especially you, Sammy." After what happened in the kitchen, Dean knew that he and Alex were worlds better. But there was still a lot to try and start making right here.

Surprise showed on Sam's face, then the briefest gratitude—then a protesting, concerned frown. "Dean, you just got back, we don't have to do this now—"

"Yes we do." Dean left no room for argument. He was tired of sweeping things under rugs. And he just needed to take the shame clinging onto his shoulders and throw it into the ocean. Otherwise it would kill him. Thinking about all his guilt made his determination falter as a flicker of vulnerable pain showed. "Truth is… making shit right between us is about all I could think about ever since you two made me leave the bunker." His siblings listened with increasingly anxious faces. "Which is a choice I agree with, by the way." They were visibly surprised by that one. But he did agree. And he'd agreed the day they did it, too. Didn't mean there wasn't quite a sting left behind, though.

Dean sighed heavily and turned to walk to one of the recliners as he tried to think about how to start. He took a seat. Sensing that they should follow suit, his brother and sister uncertainly echoed his actions. As they settled in to form a triangle around the small TV tray, Dean put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, expression terse as his mind saw things from the past. He thought back to the fateful day an angel came to him, introduced himself as Ezekiel, and then offered a miraculous yet unforgivably problematic way to keep Sam alive. That had been the beginning of the end, more or less.

Plucking up his grit, Dean began to speak on it. "I was outta pocket in a major way, Sam. Got so desperate not to lose you that… well, I just acted. Without thinking, without using my sense, without caring about what you'd want. Without asking for input, 'cause I knew what she would say." A glance went to Alex, who confirmed in silent chagrin and guilt that yup, she would've definitely had issues with his actions had she known. Dean looked Sam directly in the eye as long as he could, trying not to break down. Sam had this way of looking at you with his whole heart in his eyes—every tender worry, hurt, and hope on full display. As always, it cut straight through to Dean's soul. Right now, it made it a lot harder to speak. "I took away your choice for selfish bullshit reasons. I knew it was fucked up from the jump. Why you think I kept it a secret so long?" A long silence endured and Dean fell into a momentary blank state of mind. "I just…" It was hard to say this crap out loud. He just wanted them to understand why he'd done it. They knew, but they also didn't know. His face began to contort and his voice lost strength as he said the most painful and private things he could imagine sharing. "You've both been all I got for as long as I can remember. Everything else burned away. Went up in smoke. Changed forever."

It was still like the fire could've happened yesterday. Even though it had been thirty years ago, the terrible landmark in his legacy remained seared into Dean's memories and senses for all time: the blistering heat. The fear he would drop one of the twins as he struggled to carry them to safety. The panic when he realized Mom and Dad were not outside like he was. The relief when Dad swooped in. The horrified confusion when Mom never came out. The terrifying realization had come to him that night, even at four years old: he could never go home ever again. He'd looked at his brother and sister with new eyes that night. Eyes that promised to watch their every move and protect, defend, and help them no matter what. Eyes that feared their peril and obsessed over their wellbeing. Nothing much had changed since then in that regard, and it made him smile and ache at the same time. "…You two are everything to me," he whispered in a cracking voice. "'Til death. Right or wrong, good or bad… that's just how it is."

Dean Winchester didn't know how to lose anything more. Especially not either of them. He refused to. He could see from the receptive, emotional look on both their faces that he was in likeminded company. And all he wanted was to gather them up into his arms like he used to do when they were little. Yet the very real fullness in his heart was overshadowed by reminders of the trauma they had all lived through. "And I've had to lose you both," he said, smile fading away as the shadow of the pain returned. "Over and over. To death, to Hell, to demons, to soullessness and addictions and other people…" He hung his head briefly and pulled a hand down his face. His voice grew more hoarse and soft, his words took longer and longer to come out. "Deep down I think everyone's always gonna leave. 'Cause since day one… that's all that's ever happened. Mom. Dad. Pretty much everyone else too." Dean was almost musing to himself at this point. "Dad didn't leave us but… well he sure wasn't there like we needed him to be either."

His eyes cleared up and refocused, seeing his brother and sister again. They were hanging onto his every word. And Dean decided to say his piece on their dad, once and for all. "Our father did love us," he reflected somberly, hoping they understood how much so. "It was ugly love. It was fucked up love." His eyes went down idly, and he returned inward for a long beat. "It was all he had at the time. I've always known that. Always felt for him. Guess I've kinda just always understood." He glanced up, darkening as he dwelled on all the ways John Winchester had let them down and hurt them. "Still doesn't make it right though." His gaze returned to his brother. "Look. End of the day Sammy, what I did to you was wrong. All's I can do say is I'm sorry and hope you believe me. It'll never happen again." He expected Sam to hold this against him for awhile.

But Sam surprised him. He was receptive and steadfast. His reply came nearly instantly. "I believe you, Dean. It's forgiven."

What? Dean's ears buzzed. His eyes stung. His heart welled. He had to suppress a double-take. Had he misheard? "…Just like that?" Nearby, Alex dabbed at an eye.

"…I mean, we lost you too," Sam pointed out gently. His eyes were shining. "More than once. So yeah, we get it. And we're just glad to have you back." He acknowledged Dean's worries with a wry little huff. "Trust me, I've never been as pissed off in my life at you like I was then, but… as long as you swear never to pull a move like that again… let's put this in the rearview."

Dean was in full recognition of the gift he was being offered. It was in his nature to protest. To insist on being punished, and if they wouldn't go along with that, to self sabotage. But today… he found it within himself to respond differently. He nodded softly and simply said, "Done." He cleared his throat and decided to change the subject because he was inches from breaking down and sobbing like a little bitch. "So uh—whatever ended up happening to that angel douchebag who ganked me, anyway? We gotta exact some revenge."

A quiet, secretive pride came over Sam. "Molly killed him."

Dean turned his ear toward Sam as a frown slammed down. "Come again?" He questioned his hearing. "Library Molly? Sweaters and cats Molly?" The look on Sam's face confirmed it and Dean blinked a couple times, sitting back in astonishment. He had not seen that one coming. Alex gave a confirming nod with a smile. "Well I'll be damned." Honestly, Dean was fucking impressed—and also mystified. Things had changed around here even more than he thought.

After faint amusement at Dean's reaction, Sam became more somber. "Listen Dean… I've had a lot of time to think too. And I mean… I'm not so sure I'd have done things too differently if roles had been reversed, honestly." That was another bombshell Dean didn't know how to take. Even as he gaped, Sam grew gentler and more emphatic. "I don't wanna lose you either." The way his brother said that, with so much unguarded tenderness—it brought Dean to his knees. It was the kind of love he didn't think many other people in the universe got to understand.

Dean opened his mouth to reply. And then a creak at the door caused everyone to look up quickly and go utterly silent.

The man standing there in the doorway was a ghost from another lifetime. Dean's face went slack and he questioned if he was seeing things. But the man wasn't a ghost at all. Dean rose slowly in disbelief, his heart punching through his chest. The last time he'd seen his Dad alive (and upright) had been eight years ago. And now, here he was in the flesh. Everything else faded away. "Dad…!"

And Dean was already halfway to him by the time he'd finished saying the word. Dad embraced him with strong arms that held him close for a long, long moment as Dean exhaled in shock, wonder, awe, love, and the most pure, tender emotion—yet again, he was in tears or close enough. When they came apart, Dad smiled with unveiled love swimming in his eyes. "Hey son." Dressed ruggedly as always, Dad did look different than he had in 2006: he was leaner, grayer, and his energy felt different. Softer, somehow.

"…Hey," Dean echoed in a soft breath. He couldn't believe it! As Dean looked his dad over in marvel, his eyes caught the tail end of the Mark jutting out from a sleeve that was rolled up to mid-arm. Immediate realization clapped over Dean. The Mark. Oh no. A detail he'd forgotten about for a few moments. With a suddenly racing heart beat and dry mouth, Dean's eyes flew to look into his dad's with worry. Was he angry about this? Fuming, furious about Dean's recklessness? All John did was peer at him with genuine apprehensive concern. "How you feeling, Dean?"

Faltering, Dean tried not to fumble. "I'll… I'll be back up to speed in no time, sir." He couldn't stop glancing at the glimpse of the Mark that showed. It made his stomach turn. Guilt ate him alive. "I—I never imagined I'd put that thing on you, Dad," he managed weakly, then spoke without even thinking. "Hand it back over. I'm okay now, you don't have to be stuck with my stupid mistake." He extended his hand, ready to take that evil thing back to spare his father the unwanted responsibility.

But Dad shook his head and left Dean hanging. He was composed, calm, and kind in a way that felt unfamiliar—but not unwanted. "No seller's remorse Dean. This is final sale." Shocked, Dean watched as his father put a hand onto his shoulder. A flicker of pain showed through. "I've put too much on you for years," Dad said, flooring his son. Dean's hand floated down as he realized fully that his father had taken the curse from him permanently. "This was never yours to carry. And I don't want you to look at me like that. You know I'd do anything to save you." His hand slipped off of Dean and his eyes found the twins, who stood behind their brother, hovering uncertainly. "All three of you."

Dean didn't move or speak. He couldn't believe his ears, and had to stop himself from peering at his siblings in a silent stupor that wondered is this really happening?

Becoming uncomfortable underneath all his children's poignant gazes, John abruptly grew an interest in the bookshelf in the corner. As he went over and sightlessly picked a volume up off of it, the twins came to stand on either side of Dean. The three of them watched their dad's back breathlessly—because something about their father's demeanor felt unmistakably significant. And when he started speaking, they understood how precisely right that hunch was.

"Look—I had hundreds of years in Hell to think about what I'd say to you three if I ever got the chance again," Dad said softly, staring past the book in his hand at nothing. "Funny thing is… none of it seems like enough now. Which is why I haven't said much at all." He delicately set the book back and became reminiscent yet pained. "I just want you three to know… I used to have vision for us. Happy home life. Ball games on the weekends. Playing catch in the yard. Trips to the lake the five of us." He sounded fond. Dean's heart tore in half, aching for these things. He could feel Sam and Alex's longing on either side of him matching his. "Christmas. Birthdays. Things like that." Dad paused and wavered. "Then everything died the night she did." There was a long, somber pause in which John remained quiet. "Everything good got taken away in that fire. And what did I do? I kept the flames going. I let them burn the rest of everything away." The chilling metaphor struck all three Winchester kids. Their dad still kept his back turned to them. Maybe to hide the tears in his trembling voice. "Every day, all day, I wish I'd chose different. I know I should've. I knew it back then, too." He sounded hollow and confused in the worst of ways. "Sometimes I don't even understand myself."

Terrible quiet plagued the room—a silent wake held in bitter honor of all the things no one could go back and change.

Finally, Dean tried to quietly reassure. "Dad, it's behind us."

"No it's not." That's when John turned around. "Son, you've always tried to dismiss the wrongs I'm responsible for. You don't need to do that anymore." Even though their father was a tall man, he seemed small in that moment as he looked at his children each in turn, reluctance and fear and loathing making him appear vaguely ill. "I know how I made you guys feel," he said, letting his grief be heard. "I do. I pushed my kids away. All three of you. I didn't see it then, but man—I see it now." He took a beat to linger on his regret. " Back in the day, I was too into my own shit to really think about anyone else's. Not even yours. And I'm so sorry for that." His eyes came to his oldest. His voice, posture, and expression changed. And he did something none of his kids ever thought he'd do: he began to confess his sins.

"Dean, I shut you down. You were this sensitive, caring, feeling little boy full of wonder and happiness… then I put a gun in your hand and told you crying was for chumps who wanted to wind up dead. I put it all on your shoulders. The things that shoulda been on mine." He shook his head, agonized by regret and soldiering through it—because what was left to do? "You were more of a dad than I ever was. No two ways about it. Which is why I know you'll do just fine now with a daughter all your own. I'm proud, Dean. You're everything I never could be." Dean's heart swelled and eyes spilled over at the unexpected things he was feeling and the look in his dad's eyes. "I fell down on the job when it came to you, and—" Dad's voice almost choked away completely, "I'm sorry."

Dean nodded silently, unable to speak, unable to even know how to respond. The men held gazes, came to understanding, then Dad turned to his middle child. "Sammy. I was hard on you. Probably the hardest. 'Cause you wouldn't lay down and take the crap I tried to put on you." He smiled through watery eyes as Sam's emotions played plainly on his handsome face. "I couldn't stand how strong you were, 'cause it only reminded me of how weak I felt. So I tried to run your passions into the ground. I told you what your life was supposed to be instead of asking what you wanted for yourself." John exhaled. His shoulders were slouched. "I was all you kid's first bully." Stunned, Sam said nothing.

John's eyes slid to his daughter. His tone became quieter still, and she looked particularly deer in headlights. "I pretended there wasn't a problem, Alex." A handful of words that said so much, and caused all three Winchester kids to react. "I ignored your needs. I pushed you hard, I turned you away when you tried to reach out. I didn't know how to let you love me or how to be gentle. I could see how bad you wanted that and it just made me feel like shit. Set me off." His eyes fell away. "Eventually you stopped trying, which is what I thought I'd wanted. But… it just took me even lower."

Dean watched his sister's face working to hide pain—pain for her father, pain for herself. She nodded, accepting that she heard him—and for the moment, that was all she could do.

A very shocked silence resounded. Dean finally broke it, however cautiously. "Dad, sorry, I just—this doesn't sound like the you I remember." He needed to understand where this came from. He wanted so desperately for this to be reality.

And it was. Dad shrugged, barely perceptible. He had the general mood of defeat to him. "I'm not that man anymore, Dean. Hell changes people." He regarded his oldest son heavily. "I don't have to tell you that."

Unmasked pain hovered in Dean's eyes. "Then why'd you disappear on us like you did when you first got back?" He sounded like a little kid to himself, the way he asked that question.

Instead of becoming defensive or oppositional like he might have in the past, John was quiet and honest. "After all those years down there thinking about the past over and over again… a man can start to see things pretty differently. Guess I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me." His eyes were blank now. "I really put you kids through hell."

Moved to compassion for the father he understood all too well, Dean just wanted his dad to go easy on himself. "You were doing the best you could at the time," he insisted.

That got him a brief, self-depreciating glance. "My best was dog shit."

Dean went quiet, realizing how much like his old man he really was. Neither of them knew how to forgive themselves.

Sam finally and carefully spoke up. "Look—I'll agree with you," he started cautiously. Dad looked at him, worry making his features hard and pained. Sam wet his lips and didn't mince words: "There's a lot of things you did that will never be okay." His youthful features hovered between love, pain, and some other intense, nameless emotion. "But no matter what… you're still our dad."

Father and son shared a very meaningful look.

"Everyone can heal," Alex added in quietly. "Even the most broken."

Tenderhearted, Sam nodded. "She's right."

John was cautious and hopeful through a growing sheen of tears. All three of his kids were regarding him with the same expression that prompted the awed question: "Does this mean all three of you still… want me around?"

Sam made a face like the question didn't compute. "Of course we want you around." He took a beat and grew more introspective and poignant. "Family doesn't give up on family." He stood more strongly. "Ever."

Dad was at a loss, but it was a good one.

The entire family unit was quite shaken up by what had just happened here today. But in a good way, which was promising. Still, the question floated around in Dean's mind: what now? They were all kind of standing there, no idea of what to do next—Dad uncertain, the twins hopeful and wary and overwhelmed. There were a lot of bridges to repair. But to Dean's own amazement… he now fully believed they could do it. He stood himself a little taller, doing what he did best: rallying the Winchester family together for the task ahead. "Look, the shit I've seen, the crap we've stood down… we sure as hell didn't make it through by closing off or running away. Hell we've had our blows and problems and yeah, we might've let shit tear us apart sometimes. But look at us. We're still here. That's gotta mean something, right? Heaven, Hell, everywhere in between and we're still here." The optimism and ambition coursing through his blood was enough to make him feel like he could do anything. "We got a second chance. Not everyone can say that. So I say we do it right this time." No sooner had he declared that than Dean had to reconsider. The smallest, most rueful smile passed over his face. "Or at the very least, better."

Nodding softly in thought, Dad was agreeable. "Better. I like the sound of that." He hesitated and glanced at each twin briefly before looking back at his oldest with a certain sort of tenseness Dean frowned at. "You clear on what we're up against this time, Dean? Pretty big time stuff."

Quizzically, Dean looked at each of his siblings for explanation. He got the impression everyone knew something except himself.

"Lucifer," Sam supplied grimly.

Suddenly it became a lot hotter and more airless in the room. "Wait, that's really for real?" Dean asked, quickly becoming alarmed. "Not some… demonic fever pitch dream?" He thought he'd dreamed up overhearing his father and Sam talking about that.

Sam was tellingly grim. So was Alex. "Cas says it's legitimate."

Dean deflated in shock as the world began to spin. "…Goddamn," he breathed out, sinking to sit in a recliner again with a face and stare like stone. How? When? Why? And most importantly: Seriously?! His second thought after those questions was a single word in his mind: Rose. Already beside him, Alex silently put an arm around him as she sat on the armrest. Sam hung back even as Dean made significant, horrified eye contact. How the fuck were they supposed to survive another apocalypse? And this time it wasn't just them, their kids were involved. Just before he started to lose it, Dad's voice put a halt to that process and pulled him out of his own mind.

"Outside problems'll still be there in an hour or two," he said evenly, coming to sit opposite of Dean. "Even the goddamn devil." It was built in to listen to Dad's guidance, even after nearly a decade of him being gone. Dean nodded almost automatically. Outside problems would still be there later. Now some of Jamie's more elusive answers to his questions about what the latest was made sense. She'd been letting him have ignorance and the bliss that came along with it. He wasn't sure if that was a nice gesture, or if he was upset with her about that. Dean scrubbed his face with both hands, shaking his head. He felt his sister's hand comfortingly on his back. "Let's sit and talk a little while, huh?" Dad asked. He had a humility to him that was newfound and hard to not gape at. "About whatever you kids want." He caught Dean's eye and offered a tired smile. "It's probably fair to say we got a little catching up to do."

Despite it all, a cynical little laugh escaped Dean. A 'little catching up'? The past eight years had been balls to the wall insanity.

Sam looked very intrigued at his dad's statement. "…So we can ask you about… anything?" he wondered aloud, keenly interested.

"Anything."

Sam wet his lips, casting a brief, deliberating glance at both siblings. "I think we all wanna hear about Adam," he chanced apprehensively, deciding to go there right away. "If that's okay." Alex and Dean held their breath at the same time, widened eyes on their father to see his response.

John's eyebrows rose. Understanding alighted. Some sorrow appeared. "Adam." He nodded, long and somber, ready to face the past with dignity. "Of course."

The siblings traded looks of disbelief, hope, nervousness, and gratitude. What strange times they were living in. In a moment they'd never dreamt would come to pass, their father began telling them about their half-brother. Slowly, Sam took a seat beside Dean, and in that little huddle, the Winchester children began to really get to know their father on another level. All three were very aware of how special and profound this was. None of them had realized how hungry they were for exactly this until the moment it began to happen. And by the time an hour or so passed, the four of them had entirely new understandings and respect for each other, plus answers to questions they'd asked themselves for years. Were all problems, misunderstandings, and grudges solved? No. But were they headed there? All signs pointed to yes. And that was a win in Dean's book.

---

That Night

Gathered around the command center long table, most of the bunker occupants were present for the emergency meeting Dean called. Even Hannah had come inside. The topic at hand? Lucifer's return.

At one end of the table, Dean paced with crossed arms. He'd gotten all the details from his siblings earlier, and now was the time to involve everyone else so they could face the situation and hopefully, yet again, save the world. No big deal, right?

Sam and Alex had just explained everything they knew about it to everyone present, which was pretty much the entire occupancy of the bunker at this point. Babies and all.

"Yeah so… that's the update," Sam finished grimly, sending a thin expression his brother's way.

"So we're back to square one," Dean surmised, picking up where the twins left off the getting down to business. He sent a questioning look to the other end of the table. "What do you think, can we pop him back in the Cage, Cas?"

Standing behind Alex, who was seated and feeding CJ a bottle, the angel in question glanced at his commander who lingered nearby. "From everything I've heard, it sounds like the Cage is permanently broken." Cas didn't look terribly optimistic, and sent quite the doubtful look Dean's way. "Considering the fact that God himself made it… perhaps it was meant to fail."

The possibility caused everyone in the room a moment of sober, startled silence. "…That's quite the conspiracy theory, Cas." Sam noted grimly. Cas shrugged shallowly, semi-defeated.

"So we find an Archangel's blade," Dean said.

"…And sword fight the devil?" Cas was doubtful and shook his head. "That would be an exercise in futility, even if we could find a blade. There are none left except Lucifer's." He paused, giving thought to the lost Archangel. "The only sword still in existence would be the one belonging to Genesis." He gave a lackluster shake of the head, and the reason why became clear when Hannah spoke up to answer the puzzled gazes around the room.

"She destroyed her blade in the name of peace when she became a human."

Another long silence. Then Dean snapped his fingers. "The First Blade. It'll kill anything and anyone and it's right here in the bunker."

A few hopeful glances came his way but Cas was as grim as ever. "Again—" he reminded, glancing at John tensely who was the only one who could actually use the First Blade to its full power. The Winchester patriarch wasn't at the table with the majority of everyone else. He was leaned against a tall file cabinet off to the side under the staircase. "A human man sword fighting the devil doesn't end in our favor unless the devil is incredibly weak and slow."

John nodded thoughtfully and looked at his oldest son, who was naturally taking lead on this. "A spell to make him limp then," Dean suggested, then sent a fond glance down the table at his girlfriend. "We do have a witch in our pocket." Jamie smiled back, semi-embarrassed at the attention but hiding it well. On her lap, Rose gnawed and drooled on her little fist, earning another tender look from Dean before he refocused.

"Yes, but I know of no such spell…" Cas said hesitantly, then exhaled heavily. "I apologize. I don't mean to be so pessimistic."

Sam had been doing some deep internal mulling as he sat leaned back in a chair, and came out of it when he suddenly realized something. He sat forward with widening eyes. "Wait, does this mean the horsemen'll be back?" Beside him taking notes on all the information being shared (she'd self-appointed herself for the job), Molly glanced over with a gaping look. Clearly, she was thinking wait those mythical guys are real?

Cas seemed to realize it at the same time Sam had and even he went slightly pale at the thought.

Hannah compulsively answered for him. "They're interchangeably linked with the apocalypse as we know it. So…" She was apologetic and nervous. "Yes."

Dean and Alex looked at each other with growing understanding. They'd seen a 2014 in which the world was in tatters and the Croatoan virus had decimated most of the planet's population. Now to know this year they were living in was 2014… and the same issues were looming? Alex looked sick, just like Dean felt. "Fucking Hell," he muttered. It was really beginning to hit and causing his anxiety to spike. "This is really happening isn't it?"

Before anyone could answer, there was a startling, loud pounding on the bunker door.

"Criminently, what now?" Bobby muttered irritably. He stood near the library entrance. His hands had come out of his pockets like he was ready for a fight. He looked over at Kevin and Kyle, who were sitting in the seats at the security camera monitors. Both boys were already peering at the screen.

Foul, Kevin looked over his shoulder. "It's Meg." He seemed to be feeling hateful, and a second later it became clear why: "She has Crowley with her." Kyle put a silent, staying hand to Kevin's shoulder. Irritated, the prophet fumed and met the ex-Leviathan's eyes… then seemed to take Kyle's silent point and he calmed down.

Even as this silent interaction happened, Dean and Cas were nodding at each other. "Let them in," Cas instructed. Hannah dutifully went.

"Nobody beat his brains in yet," Bobby counseled warningly. Seemed necessary given how the guy was pretty much on almost everyone's worst side right now. Kevin particularly turned quite a look onto Bobby, who got mildly defensive. "What? I said yet, not ever."

Kevin just muttered under his breath, eyes darting like knives to watch Hannah ascending the stairs to let the demons in. Kyle whispered something reassuring to him and thumping him on the back. Linda watched the boys, a certain knowing contemplation crossing her face.

Down the stairs they came, Meg guiding Crowley in with a tight hand on his arm. In front of himself, demonic cuffs held his wrists in place.

"Okay, not even gonna ask where you got those from," Dean muttered, eyes on the female demon he'd pissed off in recent times.

Meg smiled falsely as they got to the bottom of the stairs. "Nice to see you too, Dean."

Unable to stand not being the center of attention, Crowley smirked. "Yes, hello, Public Enemy Numero Uno," he announced breezily. "I believe my reputation precedes me." It did, but he wasn't quite living up to it presently. The King of Hell looked terrible. His suit was rumpled and his hair a mess, his skin an odd sheen and lifeless shade. Clearly, he was still on his human blood addiction bender or whatever it was. His intelligence seemed affected, and his perceptiveness challenged. He frowned with a squint as he noticed there were two infants on the premises. "Blimey, everyone's been procreating, haven't they?" he asked, then chuckled suggestively and waggled his eyebrows at Bobby. "Who'd like to carry my offspring, mm? Ow!" He ducked down and glared at Meg, who had just smacked him in the head.

"Found our courageous leader hiding down in one of Lucifer's crypts," Meg announced wryly.

Daintily, Crowley corrected her. "I was lurking ominously, thank you very much."

Meg jostled him. "Whatever, just tell them what you told me, greaseball."

Huffing through his nose, Crowley visibly didn't want to talk about it. "I can't get into Hell anymore," he said delicately. His embarrassed, beady little eyes resentfully eyed the occupants of the room. "I'm stuck." At that admission, the Winchesters exchanged quick, elated glances that the King missed.

Meg made a face. "No, not your constipation problem, dingbat. The other thing."

The King looked at her in genuine stumped confusion. She threw her hands and made an impatient, angry face. And then he seemed to remember. "Ah. Yes of course, silly me." Crowley cleared his throat and smiled with forced patience. "Lucifer."

"How unique of you," Cas muttered, appearing to be feeling like his time was being wasted. "The devil is everyone's problem, you ass."

Crowley chuckled low and gravelly. "Ah yes, Sasstiel comes out to play yet again." He winked to Cas's great annoyance. "My favorite."

Cas and Crowley glowered at each other. Or, well, to be more correct, Cas glowered and Crowley managed a moony expression through his foggy state. "Enough flirting you two," Meg growled, smacking Crowley on the back of the head again. "Spill the deets about what Lucifer's up to."

"Will you stop that?" Crowley protested, trying to lean as far from her as he could.

She smacked him again, challengingly this time. "Talk."

Letting loose a pathetic sound, Crowley whimpered and put his hands to his face where he'd just been struck. Then his simpering eyes scanned the room pitifully. "Hasn't anyone got a spot of blood to spare? Just need an itty bitty bit." Meg elbowed him hard, which got an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp and then a cleared throat and semi-reply. "Lucy's quite the uninspired lout, and apparently has no new plot devices up his sleeve."

Alex was losing patience particularly fast. "Get to the point, will you?" she snapped, giving him the evil eye while bottle feeding her infant.

Crowley didn't seem to hear her. Instead he stared into space, muttering to himself at low volume. Dean stalked over. "Out with it, Crowley!" He shook him by his suit. "What's Lucifer doing?"

"Oy, hands off!" Crowley protested, and Dean merely tightened his grip, his eyes daring the demon not to comply. Becoming wan, Crowley cleared his throat and composed himself. "He's rolling out his favorite little virus, my adorable little neophyte," came the thin reply. "Remember that whole ordeal? Mm? Word on the grapevine is that the four horsemen are set to roll into town any day now. And by town, I mean world, of course." He lost interest in explaining and instead smiled beamingly at CJ, raising both hands to wave the fingers on one hand. "Cutie pie, innt he?"

"Don't wave at my baby!" Alex snapped, turning so that her son was obscured from vision.

"And don't speak to him, either," Cas growled, appearing ready to attack.

Crowley looked quite put out by the comments. Dean was forceful and got in Crowley's line of sight demandingly. "Tell us more, now."

Stubbornly serene, Crowley just smiled. "Not blabbing until someone gets bleeding." He poked his head around to try and peer at Alex and her baby again. "Yoo-hoooo."

That was the exact moment when CJ finished his bottle. Not missing a beat, Alex popped the nipple out, hauled back, and threw the bottle square at the demon, hitting him in the nose. A yelp came as her reward.

"Dude!" Dean protested, looking at his sister like she'd gone crazy or was a genius and he wasn't sure which.

"He said he wanted blood, why not his own nosebleed?" Alex wisecracked resentfully, her reproachful eyes on the demon in question. Meg smirked and chuckled.

"Oh for Christsakes, will someone just go steal a blood bag or ten for this moron?" Dean turned a pointed stare onto Meg.

Her face masked a thin smile. "Guess that's my cue!" She exhaled irritably before disappearing into thin air.

Dean smiled at the King coldly. "Hey, uh, Crowley."

"Hm?" was the casual reply. In a flash, Dean right-hooked Crowley across the face, sending the demon stumbling not to lose his balance and shouting in surprised pain.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Kevin exclaimed, jumping up from the seat he'd been silently stewing in.

Dean shook a finger at Crowley, who was holding his hands to his face in apparent shock. "That's for… well, all of it," Dean declared. "You useless dick."

Kevin was at his side now, ready to go. "If you get to hit him, I get to hit him."

Dean threw his arms out impatiently, giving the prophet quite the look and prompting him to go ahead. "Well do you see anyone stopping you?"

And just when Kevin was about to gather his courage… Sam stepped right in front of him and ruined it by beginning to interrogate the cowering King. "You said you can't get into Hell, right?"

"Would you like me to repeat myself en Español?" Crowley asked irreverently, then explained with overdone patronizing tone. "Can't get in. None of my cronies can get out." His attitude suddenly dropped as his slow mind finally drew conclusion. "Wait a minute." He looked almost offended, which was kind of funny. "You three did this, didn't you?"

Sam scoffed. "Nothing gets past you."

Dean smiled impassively. "Well, if we're being specific here… it was actually him." He indicated that Crowley should look behind himself.

Crowley did, and saw the one person he hadn't yet noticed. Immediately, terror flashed across his smarmy little face. "John Winchester. As I live and breathe." He rapidly shrunk, his mind visibly putting the pieces together. "Ah yes. I see." He wet his lips and he backed up, eyes darting around the room at all the enemies of his who were present that day. "I've found myself in a den of wolves all my own creation," he observed nervously.

John approached with a dangerous glint in his eye. He'd been biding his time since Crowley walked into the room. "Last time I saw you, what were you saying about hanging me upside down and pulling my insides out thread by thread?" He got close enough that Crowley was really starting to get nervous. Anger that had been buried carefully began to blaze out. "And weren't you laughing about sending my daughter to the goddamn rack?"

"Now now now now now!" Crowley sputtered, colliding back-first with a concrete column. "I'm not the villain here!" he insisted maniacally as his eyes swept around at everyone who was converging on him. "Dean's alive because of me!" At the incredulous looks he got, the demon grew more flustered. "Ish!" He swung his cuffed hands out, indicating the most cantankerous person in the room. "And the lumberjack too, for no other reason other than I'm quite fond of Littlest!" He found Alex's resentful glower and begged her silently, but she just looked away. Crowley's desperate eyes darted back and forth, no doubt scheming himself a way out of all his actions. But the entire room was full of people he'd pissed off. "Listen, I'll have you know I can be of service—surely you brick-for-brains realize this right?! There's loads of my minions stuck topside, willing to do my bidding and what have you—none of us want Lucifer around any longer than he has to be—!"

"Surely you aren't suggesting an alliance," Cas patronized. "I seem to remember that ending badly last time."

Crowley scrambled blankly. "I have connections!" he insisted, but from the wild look in his eyes, it was pretty clear all he had was issues. "I have—I have, uh—I have…" he wet his lips, and he was so absurd in that moment it was cringeworthy.

"Have your little minions seen you like…" Alex gestured vaguely as she tried to find a word for how ridiculous he was. Having stood up at some point, she settled on a disdainful, "This?"

Crowley made no reply, but the prim way he fidgeted seemed to indicate no, they hadn't. Cas called the King's bluff with crossed arms and haughty, narrowed eyes. "So then what's your suggestion to solve our mutual issue, since you have such impressive connections?"

Again, the King of Hell mentally buckled under the pressure. "Uh…"

Dean scoffed. "Look at him, he's pathetic," he muttered, finding himself surprised at how useless Crowley had become.

Cas agreed and took pleasure from it too. "A shadow of what he used to be."

"Elevator just doesn't go to the top anymore," Sam added.

Alex finished out the roast: "Three quarts low and leaking."

Demure and resentful, Crowley glowered at the insults. "Still King of Hell, thank you very much."

"Pfft. King of my ass," Dean retorted. Everyone gave him a funny look for that one before going back to regarding Crowley with something like disgusted pity.

Crowley grimaced in a way meant to convey how little he cared about the accusations. But everyone could see a nerve was being touched. That's the moment when Meg reappeared with some blood bank bags—two of them—and she shoved them out toward Crowley with a wan expression. "Order up."

And then Crowley surprised everyone when he stared at the bags for a long, sweaty moment then forcefully kept himself composed. "No, thank you."

Meg balked, seeming to think she'd misheard. "Come again?"

Crowley attempted to look poised and spoke very delicately. "It has come to my attention that I need to get my act together."

Withering as everyone else in the room experienced something like suspicious amusement, Meg schooled her irritation as best she could. "…Of course it has."

Dean crossed his arms. "Well in that case, you're off to the dungeon, buddy." He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the shift in power dynamic. "Seven days for detox outta do it, don't you think?"

John took the demon by the arm roughly. "I'll handle him." Spluttering indignantly and cowering, Crowley had no choice but to be half led, half shoved away with Kevin trotting after and Kyle as always trailing behind the prophet like a puppy dog. Linda excused herself too.

"Welp, I guess we're back to the drawing board," Dean said as they departed.

Watchful, Hannah broke her silence. "If I'm not needed any longer, I'll return to the angels. We'll tell you if we hear anything by angel radio but as I mentioned earlier, Lucifer seems to be communicating some other way with his forces."

"Roger that," Sam acknowledged and sighed, sitting back down at the table beside Molly. Nearby, Jamie bounced Rose on a knee to entertain her. Dean stopped by and said hey to them before glancing at the remaining angel.

"What's with the long face, Cas?" Dean asked, which drew attention to the fact that the angel had retreated into deep solo thought.

Coming back to the present moment, Cas regretfully and guiltily answered. "I just don't see how we get out of this situation this time."

Dean crossed his arms. "Now don't tell me you're thinking of laying down and taking it. Something always comes down the line. We'll figure it out this time too."

"Team Free Will, remember?" Sam prompted with a reminiscent, helpless smile on his face.

"Now, with… additional cast members," Dean said with wry humor. "We got your angels, we got our dad, we got a witch, we got Meg and… whatever the Hell Crowley is right now. Anyway, point is I think we got a fighting chance. We did it before. We can do it again." Everyone in the room was looking at Dean in a very specific way, prompting him to frown. "What?"

Sam touched his shoulder fondly. "It's really good to have you back."

Dean made a face. There were too many others around for all that. "No chick flick moments, Sammy."

Bobby heaved a grumpy old sigh. "I'm gonna put the shakedown on the wire and see what I can hear about the virus and horsemen. Stuff that big's bound to start drawing attention somewhere."

"Or will soon enough," Sam muttered grimly.

Jamie stood up with Rose on her hip. "I'll call my people too." Dean was already reaching out to take Rose so Mommy could fully focus on making her calls. Luckily, she had displayed nothing but receptiveness toward him since his return, and allowed him to kiss her face repeatedly before he settled her into his arms and sent a smile his sister's way. Kind of weird and awesome that they'd become parents in such close proximity.

She didn't see his smile or gaze. Standing nearby and patting her son's back repetitively, Alex looked plainly irked at the idea of facing another apocalypse. "I can't believe we have to do this shit again." Even as she said that, she seemed to catch a whiff of a horrible smell. Her face wrinkled and she began to laugh through the disgust. "Oh eesh. Speaking of shit. My poop machine is at it again," she joked before tickling at CJ's face. "We'll be right back, won't we, Ceej?"

"I'll come with you," Cas offered.

"It doesn't take two people to change a diaper," Alex dismissed, then threw in another joke. "Usually." She headed out to change CJ out of his soiled diaper, and Dean watched Cas's expression, realizing something significant.

Dean caught the angel's eye and jerked his head toward the library. Cas complied and met him there. "You haven't told her yet have you, Cas?" Dean asked in a furtive tone, already knowing the answer. In his arms, Rose was quiet and content to drool on her hand as she watched her dad with curious eyes.

Cas was extremely hesitant. "The timing hasn't been right yet."

Stricken, Dean lost hope. "You don't have a plan, do you?" he asked, cursing himself for everything that had happened with the damn Mark and his brief foray into demonic existence. He whispered, like he was afraid of his daughter hearing it, even though she was in his arms—and also a baby who didn't speak English yet. "You're dying. I killed you."

The angel was patient. "Dean. You didn't kill me." He gave it a little more thought. "The opposite in fact."

That caused a very lost, abrupt frown. "What's the opposite of kill?" Dean asked, then balked at the ridiculousness. "Give birth to?"

Cas seemed to realize his error. "Uh. No. Well, not exactly." With a significant pause, the angel fell into thought and became mildly disturbed. "And I find that scenario highly troubling to imagine."

Dean's expression fell. He could have face palmed. "Well don't imagine it, Cas," he grumbled, rolling his eyes before he sighed and got back on track. "Just… lemme know you're gonna be okay."

Cas became compassionate. "Better than okay, my brother," he assured, then looked back at the command center at where Meg was asking Molly about her notes and getting the side eye from Sam. "I'll tell her now." He thought about it a bit longer. "But first, I have to see if Meg can transport us somewhere. And if someone will watch little Jimmy for us."

"James and I will," Dean volunteered immediately, wondering what Cas was up to. "No doubt." He grinned and gave his baby a glance. "What's another baby in the mix, huh?"

The angel put a kind hand against Rose's back. She regarded him with bright eyes, a gummy smile hovering. "Thank you Dean." A gentle, reminiscent smile softened Cas's face as his eyes moved from Rose to her father. "We've been through much together, you and I."

Surprisingly, Dean didn't dodge away from the tenderness. In his own way, he replied in kind. "More ahead, too, I hope."

Cas softened further. His immense gratitude and love for the other man was clear to see. "Much more, Dean. A lifetime, I hope."

---

Soon After
Pontiac, Illinois

When Cas asked Alex to accompany himself and Meg somewhere unspecified, the first reaction Alex had was surprise quickly followed by suspicion about the nature of this little trip. Especially since it involved leaving CJ in care other than their own. She hadn't liked that. But Cas had assured her it wouldn't take long and was very, very important. Plus the person watching CJ was one of the only ones on Alex's approved list: Dean of course.

So when Meg transported them from the bunker to an unknown space, Alex had a moment of disorientation and slight nervousness. It was dark here (wherever here was) and had a drafty, damp feeling. As her eyes adjusted, she started to make out a rotted, splintering roof overhead which had eroded away completely in places, letting in dim shafts of silver moonlight.

"Voila, dilapidated barn thing," Meg said skeptically as Alex sent a frown scanning around. Apparently Meg had no idea where they were either. "No judgment," she joked. "Everyone's got a kink." With a flirty nose wrinkle, she jerked a thumb over her shoulder before disappearing. "I'll be outside."

Alex barely paid mind to Meg. She was gawking at the walls of this place. While the spray paint was very faded and weathered and in some places tagged by straight up graffiti, she still recognized the many wards, talismans, and traps littering the walls. Drifting closer to the closest one to investigate, Alex peered through a mystified squint. This section of talismans almost looked like it had been done by her. And then she realized it didn't look like her handwriting. It was her handwriting. And there over a few feet to the left was Dean's. And up there to the right there was Bobby's! Realization bolted through Alex. "Wait." Her pulse picked up and stomach dropped in surprise. "I know this place! Right?" She turned around, her pulse a rapid, astonished staccato. "Isn't this…?"

Cas now stood a few paces away underneath a shaft of moonlight. The angel in the trench coat looked otherworldly and magical in the coolness of the soft light enveloping him. "It's the place where we first saw each other," he confirmed in the softest voice. "Where it all began."

A rush of amazement coursed over. Yes. This was the very place her life had changed forever. The place sparks first fell. Why had he brought them here?

Taking a few dreamlike steps over to the side, she found the general area she'd been occupying six years ago. "I was standing right about here," she said as she found the spot. Looking at him across the twelve feet or so separating them, she tried to recall how she'd felt in that moment when he had burst through the doors. But all she could focus on was how she felt now, and it was love beyond love. Trust beyond trust. Gratitude, humility, wonder at where the path had led since the fateful night here in 2008. "What did you think?" she prompted sort of coyly after a moment of silent, expressive gazes only. "The first time you saw me?"

Cas shook his head, the fond ghostly smile on his lips remaining intact as he began to cross the space to her. She remembered the first time she'd seen him walk this distance. He'd been an unknown robotic stranger. Now he was as close as her heartbeat. Her very best friend. The father of her child. "It wasn't thinking that happened the first time my eyes saw you," he answered softly when he arrived to her. "It was feeling." He took her hands, a nearly playful quality in his smile now. "Meanwhile, you were shooting at me."

Alex laughed despite herself, letting her face fall into a hand out of amusement and ruefulness alike. "What can I say," she said, fixing him with a kind of goofy, captivated, apologetic grin. "I believing in shooting first and asking questions later." Cas smiled back, and the sheepish, sweet dynamic between them was reminiscent of people who had just fallen in love. Although she was definitely amused, a deeper question plagued Alex's mind, restless to be answered. There was something significant about this beyond some fanciful visit into their past. "…But why are we here, Cas?" Alex questioned, searching his eyes for some clue to what he was thinking. "Kind of a weird time to just reminisce."

Cas's expression took on a more serious, bittersweet quality and there was a long pause before he answered. "I suppose that the place where it all began feels quite fitting a place to do this."

Alex felt a keen sense of fear crop up. "…Do what?" she asked, attempting to not get ahead of herself.

Cas touched her shoulder soothingly. "There's no need to worry, but I have been keeping something from you." His pause saw Alex growing even more worried as half-formed thoughts swirled around. What could he possibly mean? "The wounds Dean inflicted onto me with the First Blade are very serious, Alex." And just like that, Alex already understood… and her first inner thought was oh no. "No angel can heal them," Cas explained regretfully. "And they're only getting worse." Stunned and afraid, Alex's heart quivered on pins and needles. "Unless I return to Heaven forever or I remain on earth and become human… I'm essentially dying right now."

Shocked and overwhelmed, it took Alex a couple of seconds to stop gaping at the news and find her voice again. Then she reached out and took hold of him. "Cas, why didn't you tell me sooner?" She wasn't angry. She was sad.

Cas's eyes were regretful. "I couldn't find a way until now. You've been through so much lately. I couldn't add another burden to the load."

While she appreciated that and could hear from his tone how stressful it had been for him to keep this to himself, Alex shook her head gently. "We carry burdens together."

His sincere gaze became downcast after silently apologizing. "I know." With a thoughtful sigh, Cas began to slowly let his wistful eyes wander briefly. Alex joined him, trying to see what he was seeing. "It truly is the end of an era," he remarked quietly after a moment.

And that's when Alex understood precisely why they were here. Not just for him to tell her what was happening. But to take action. A knot immediately sprang into Alex's throat. "Oh Cas." He was being forced to give up his wings forever—with no choice on the matter. And at such a time, too…

He shook his head gently. "Don't be sorry for me. And don't be afraid. I can tell you are." He touched her face, familiarity and warmth making the action utterly sweet. Comfort relaxed the tenseness from Alex's muscles, and after a moment of communication with eyes only, Cas had reassured her. Then, he began to speak, voice thick with nostalgia and love. "I've seen eternity itself. I experienced creation, destruction… the invention of sliced bread." They shared a little smile over that last part. Then Cas became more fiercely tender. "I never 'wanted.' I didn't even know what the word meant." He took her hands again and he turned them over in his, studying the sight of the intwined fingers at somber leisure. His striking cobalt gaze met hers again and left her breathless. "And then I met you. Now, all I do is want." She could see the great and gentle things in his eyes before he even said them out loud, and it brought a teary-eyed emotional state. "I want to foil this apocalypse and then live at your side," he murmured, so much feeling in every word he uttered. "To raise our son. I want to experience this life the way you do. To ache when you begin to ache. Turn gray when you turn gray. I want you and I to lean on each other when our joints no longer work and our senses dull." Cas paused, choking up. "…I want to die when you die," he continued faintly. "Be laid to rest beside you here on earth. And then follow your soul into the great beyond, wherever that may lead."

Heavy eyes blinked against thick waters, and Alex felt herself nodding and unconsciously holding a breath in. She let it out in a vulnerable, emotion-charged exhale. A tear ran out. "…I want those things too," she whispered. He'd said it so perfectly. She touched his face like he'd touched hers. Profound love for him coursed through her strongly as a feeling bright as the sun gathered inside her soul. "But Cas… human, angel—powers or no powers… together's all I care about."

His mouth curved upward at each side as his eyes reflected silver light back to her. "Together's all I care about too." He reached up and with whisper-soft fingers, took hold of her chin and kissed her lips with the softest yearning and appreciation. It was hard not to stay in that kiss forever. After, she felt his thumb stroking her cheek. Eyes still closed, she breathed for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around this change. Letting her eyes open, she found his already looking into hers. "And you're sure you're sure? What if you regret it?"

Cas's face only softened. "Alex. My wife. My best friend. You once told me to take the days as they come. To learn to accept not always knowing if a choice is right or not." He gave a helpless and almost happy shrug. "Well… I know this one is right. I don't feel any doubt." He paused and faded a couple degrees. "Only a vague sense of trepidation. I'll have to sleep and eat and…" he trailed off and became somewhat covert. "Otherwise."

Suddenly trying not to laugh because she just knew he was thinking bathroom-specific, Alex chuckled and traced some of his hairs for no reason other than she was compelled to touch him. "I'll be with you every step of the way," she promised. They'd done it before. They could do it again. A very thoughtful, poignant quality settled over him, prompting Alex to sober and ask, "…What?"

He reflected for a moment, then started off slowly. "You were the first one who told me to think for myself and speak for myself," he recalled as his faint, fond smile remained a whisper on his features. "In that way… I've just realized that you gave me a voice, too."

Touched, Alex was already shaking her head no. "That was all you, Cas."

His reply was especially fond and semi-playful. "Debatable." Again, the tenderest of smiles passed between the two. Then Cas breathed in deeply and exhaled out, a certain satisfaction audible. "In whatever case. I've been moving toward this moment since they first assigned me to you. And I think we both know that." Maybe he was right. Alex nodded faintly, helplessly feeling worried again.

"Now?" she asked in a whisper. It was so sudden. But she understood she was just going to have to get used to it. Cas had made this decision on his own. She trusted his choice.

"Yes. Now." He reached out to her. "Will you hold my hand?"

Of course she would. She took hold then watched with shallow, expectant breaths, unsure what to expect. She remembered years ago when Anna said that ripping her Grace out had been agonizing. But Cas was surrendering his failing Grace—maybe it wouldn't be painful for him. Neither of them knew. They just faced it together.

Castiel looked at Alex for a very long, final moment. The last time he would see her with the eyes of an angel. Then he took her hand and pulled it to hold with his at his heart. He squeezed reassuringly, then nodded that he was ready. He took in a bracing inhale. His gaze went upward, eyes seeming especially innocent, hopeful, and willing. He opened his mouth and his eyes fell hooded. He exhaled directly upward and the most beautiful blue light rose out of his mouth like a coil of steam. His Grace. It glowed, flickered, and curled upwards, lighting Cas and Alex in the softest radiance before dissipating into the air.

Cas stumbled as the last of the light died out, and Alex braced him readily. For a moment, he was disoriented and Alex's fingers clenched tightly into his arms as he struggled to stay on two feet. "You with me, Cas?" she asked in quiet urgency.

The clarity came back into his gaze, the strength back into his limbs. "I am."

Her fingers relaxed, no longer necessary to keep him standing. But her eyes zipped around him frantically, looking for signs that he was either okay or not okay. "How do you feel?"

A moment of consideration passed in which Cas took stock of himself. "Well…" he looked down at himself—turning his palms over to look at them. He looked exactly the same to Alex, but the wonder in his gaze alerted her to the fact that he felt different. "Everything hurts," he announced, but he was excited about it.

A guffaw escaped Alex, who found herself grinning in relief—because that was pretty much being an adult human. Aching all the time. The two embraced tightly, holding each other as close as possible, savoring and rejoicing. When they came apart, they'd both grabbed each other's faces. There weren't words for the moment. Only actions. In a flash of assertiveness she hadn't expected, Cas put his arms around her and pulled her into the kind of kiss they hadn't shared since before the baby's birth. Passionate, warm, interested, lingering, and thorough.

Afterward, they stayed close in the comfort of each other's arms. Cas let his gaze wander the room, and Alex rested her cheek against his chest, feeling one of his hands gently rubbing a circle on her back. "How little we knew about what laid ahead, six years ago when we first stood here," he remarked thoughtfully.

"We made it," Alex murmured softly, knowing there was still a lot ahead but in awe of how far they'd come. Curious, she lifted her head to look him in the eye again. She found his gaze waiting. "What would you say to us back then from now if you could?"

He considered before replying. "I think I'd tell us to hold on tight." There was deeply abiding affection there that she felt too.

"Still pretty relevant advice," she said through a little grin, and grabbed his hand, squeezing for effect. She nodded her head toward the barn doorway—the same one he had burst through years ago. "Let's go home, Cas."

His smile only became more affectionate. "I am home."

She took his meaning, and agreed. She was home, too. After another brief kiss, arm in arm, the two mortals leaned on each other. The ex-angel and the hunter. The ones legends would be built around, the ones who had changed the world before and would do so again. They trudged to the exit to go find Meg, not knowing what the future held—yet inexplicably having more peace about it than they ever had before.

Unbeknownst to them, at the moment of Castiel's final and last fall from Grace, a place that had not fully existed before was newly unfurling to life thanks to the birth of his new, final human soul. Somewhere deep inside the realm of eternity, there'd been perpetual darkness waiting—now, a newborn Heaven existed there, finally made complete. It was the rarest of its kind: the kind that belonged to soulmates.

---

Later
South Chicago

Somewhere in the blights of the windy city, a tall, well-built blonde man dressed all in black swung off his vintage 1969 Harley. Shaded from the midday sun underneath a massive highway, the derelict underpass was exactly the sort of place to get robbed, beaten, and/or murdered. However, all the transient and homeless people around kept their distance from the newcomer. There was something unnervingly evil about the white man and his sleek black motorcycle…

Lucifer strode over to a clear patch of concrete, drew out the four horsemen's rings, and watched them drop when he turned his palm over. He held his hand in place and began to chant. "Zoh nuh ray nuh rah juh. Vah tekha rah!" Around the rings, intense light began to flare. The wind picked up fiercely and the sky went dark as a deep belch of thunder cracked overhead. The human wretches nearby proved themselves marginally more intelligent than the devil had supposed, scattering like roaches and fleeing the scene.

Upward from the ground, the four horsemen's forms manifested: War, Pestilence, Famine, and Death. Everyone but Death had new physical appearances.

The softest smile graced Lucifer's haughty features. "Well. The gang's back in town," he greeted. "I can see you're all well." He paused and took in the sweaty looking old white guy with flies buzzing around his head. "Except you, Pestilence, of course."

Answering with a mucus-heavy voice, Pestilence gave a sickening grin. "Gotta stay on brand." He hacked and coughed valiantly then dashed a fist across his dripping nose.

Mildly disgusted, Lucifer turned his gaze to Famine. He was no longer in a decrepit male manifestation, but a buxom female one. He had an incredible smile, deep cleavage, and wolfish, hungry eyes. "Lord Lucifer," he said, a friendly yet sensual tone dancing across the words. "You're looking… different."

The devil considered Famine with internal amusement that only faintly displayed on his features. "So are you."

"My old form became nothing but a withered husk," Famine explained needlessly, placing elegant hands on a narrow waist that sat above generous hips. His fingernails were cherry red. He arched a prideful eyebrow. "Not the worst thing that's happened to me. I quite like this one."

"Enough yakity yak," War interjected impatiently. He was a smarmy little CEO looking guy complete with a body that only sat in office chairs and a head of hair that really wasn't there anymore. "I'm really loving the Syrian conflict you got goin' on—what we doing next, Boss?"

Lucifer turned a prim gaze impatiently. "What do you think?" He watched War's bravado waver. "The end of it all, as planned from the beginning." Lucifer's tone became great and terrible: "Until all peoples on this earth from every nation, tribe, and tongue are in ruins, shambles, starvation, sickness and death… we will not rest!" Appropriate silence met his declaration. Enjoying the slight shiver of fear that trembled across the air, the devil's eyes slid to the horseman who had so far said nothing. His mood turned less positive. "Death." Lucifer put a false, dangerous smile onto his face. "My old friend." His head tilted to the side questioningly at the continued silence. "Not going to say hello?"

Pale, hook-nosed, and dark eyed, Death's expression remained unflinching. "It seems I've forgotten my manners." The sarcastically clipped words dripped with quiet disdain. Death's smile was ghostlike and patronizing. "I certainly hope you're not becoming desperate in this endlessly foolish quest of yours to destroy earth," he murmured, angering Lucifer at the audacity required. Death's dark, hollow eyes traversed toe to head boldly. "One might note how poor your appearance is… and draw the natural conclusion that your vessel is on the verge of ruin."

Lucifer's mouth hardened at the mention of the sores beginning to creep up his neck. "Don't worry your beady little head about it," he said in a dangerous murmur, losing patience. "The Winchester blood in this imp will keep me virile much longer than Nick ever did." Darkening, Lucifer stepped into Death's space and stared him down. "You and I have business to attend to." The enraging secret Death thought he had hidden away from Lucifer finally came to light: "You betrayed me. Giving your ring to Dean Winchester without protest in hopes of doing away with me." Death's expression flickered ever so slightly. Full of cruel and cold pride, Lucifer relished the upper hand. "Makes a devil wonder: …Who's trustworthy around here?" The corners of his mouth twitched. "Certainly not me." He held up his hand: in it, Death's own scythe. The horsemen's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He had been caught off guard—and it was maddeningly delicious. "Missing this?" Lucifer purred dangerously. And then with a great and sudden burst of movement, he drew back and struck full force into Death, bisecting horizontally. Instantly, both the scythe and the horseman disintegrated.

Satan sneered down his nose to the ground where dust settled—the only thing that remained of Death. Anyone who stood against him would earn the same fate of utter destruction. Lucifer turned slowly and deliberately to the shocked three horsemen behind him. "Think twice before you betray me, horsemen," he proclaimed dangerously, then raised his voice to a shout as he stabbed a finger toward the ground. "There will be no failures this time! No mercy, no way out! This world ends so that my new one can begin. And if any of you get in the way…" He smirked, knowing they'd already gotten the message. "Well."

Sure enough, their dodgy, nerve-wracked, simpering replies came:

"You got it Boss."

"No problem."

"Of course."

Lucifer regarded his little war machines with idle interest. Once his new world was created, he would build much better ones. For now, he'd just have to make due with these absolute duds. He adjusted his jacket with a flourish as he began to stride back toward his bike. "With me, boys." He snapped his fingers over his head and their cars appeared as he swung onto his motorcycle. Lucifer started the engine then took a tight grip on the handlebars. "Let's ride." He gunned the engine and she roared twice, a booming, growling announcement that could be heard for blocks.

With a jerk, the Harley streaked off. Following dutifully in convoy (not like they even had a choice being bound and all), the three surviving horsemen took up the rear in their cars. Behind the devil and his harbingers, the concrete pillars supporting the overpass crumbled as a sinkhole opened up where they'd just been. It would grow larger and larger, the further they got away. A lightning storm the likes of which never recorded before whipped up overhead, and forks of lightning struck again and again, a mad rave of chaos and terror. Screams started to sound—and there would be more. Many many more.

From the speaker attached to the devil's bike, one of Led Zeppelin's best began to boom: 'I'm gonna give you my love. Gonna give you my love. Want a whole lotta love—a whole lotta love.'

Soon, Sam Winchester would be his again and the new world order would begin. It was only a matter of time. For now, Lucifer was going to burn everything and everyone to the ground. After all, all work and no play made for a very grumpy devil indeed.

Glancing into the rearview at the carnage unfolding behind their trail of destruction, Lucifer chuckled. "The end is nigh," he murmured, a wicked smile playing.