One Day Earlier

Castiel's claim that he played bingo on Thursdays was true only in the strictest technical sense. Castiel played the absolute bare minimum bingo on Thursdays that he felt allowed him to excuse his weekly absence to Allison and Mary without lying. Once that chore was complete, he left and got down to business.

In the alley behind the nursing home that provided his alibi, Castiel approached a brunette in a leather jacket and heeled ankle boots. She leaned against the wall while she waited, launching off jauntily when she spotted him.

"Make any more old ladies cry today, Clarence?"

"What did you find?"

"You first."

Meg and Castiel squared off face to face, the demon standing her ground firmly despite the fact that the angel's host was nearly a foot taller than hers.

"I seriously wanna know," she grinned, hands on her hips as she awaited an answer.

Castiel stared her down for a few seconds, but he knew from past experience that the easiest way to expedite this exchange would be to give her what she wanted.

"No, I intentionally lost to avoid upsetting Gladys again."

"Wow, you really are too good for this world. A sweet little cinnamon bun, too good, too pure."

"Did you find anything?"

"Right down to business. You're hurting my feelings, Clarence. You think you're too good to chit-chat, make a little small talk with the likes of me?"

"Yes."

Meg laughed at him.

"You're not wrong. Ok, ok. I did find something. I'm not sure that it helps me much, but you should be excited about it."

Castiel waited and finally prompted her to continue.

"Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Depends. What's in it for me?"

"I will continue to refrain from smiting you."

"Please, and break up our little partnership?"

"We are not partners."

"Oh? So what is this then? Lay it out for me, sweetheart, I hate an undefined relationship."

"You are currently of use to me."

"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel valued," Meg said with a roll of her eyes. "That was sarcasm, by the way."

"I'm aware."

No one could live with Dean as long as Castiel had without learning how to detect a sardonic undercurrent in the conversation. The ability to tell when sarcasm was present didn't mean that Castiel was any more amused by its use than he was seven years ago.

"This world is plagued by demons," Castiel went on. "One might even say overrun. Tell me what you know or I'll find someone else who will."

"You'll find another demon willing to get into bed with an angel?" Meg asked critically, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning heavily to one side. Her expression challenged Castiel's clearly flawed logic. "Come on, Clarence, we've got a year under our belts already. Don't throw away a good thing."

"Tell me what you know and we can continue our work together. You shouldn't need extra incentives, Meg."

"Easy for you to say. I'm doing all the legwork while you play house with the Smithchesters."

"Meg!"

"Seriously, I want something for my trouble."

Castiel's blade dropped from his sleeve and he raised it threateningly. Meg didn't flinch or blink. She tapped her foot impatiently while the seconds stretched on and Castiel still didn't strike her down.

"Can we speed this little ritual up tonight?" Meg finally sighed. "I know you need to pretend to hate working with me for appearances and all, but I get it. Everyone gets it. You're not happy about our arrangement, you're not stoked about holding up your end of the deal, but come on. Give it a rest and just ask me what I want already."

Castiel hated her with a passion he had previously never imagined possible. Still, he couldn't deny that he needed her. Where he was completely alone in the world, Meg had a network, Meg had contacts. She could dig deeper than he, go places where his presence would cause so much of a stir as to destroy the leads he was chasing. Meg was his envoy to the dark, demonic forces that could tell him what he desperately longed to know.

Where were all the rest of his kind? Why was it that in seven years he had yet to hear from any of them, had yet to receive revelation, yet to receive the help he had begged for so emphatically at times?

"Come on, Clarence," Meg egged. "It's no biggie. You might even enjoy it."

Castiel tucked his blade away.

"What do you want, Meg?"

"Well, I was thinking about asking you to reach down into the deepest pits of hell and free the dark lord satan from his prison, but... I decided I would settle for a night on the town."

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to take me out sometime."

"I do not understand."

"Come out for drinks with me. Get into a little trouble, raise a little hell. I'd pay good money to see you try out karaoke."

"I've tried karaoke. I found the experience to be gratuitous and unimpressive."

"Casssssss! Cas, come on," Meg said, clapping her hands together and leaving them that way, pleading with him. "Humor me!"

"What is it you really want?" Castiel asked, eyes narrowing as he examined the demon, searching her posture and expression for ulterior motives.

"I want to have some fun! Tell me you don't think you would be a fun drunk."

"I have never partaken in the sin of alcoholism and I do not intend to-"

"Well, I guess I'll take myself out then," Meg said with a loud sigh. "Me and my information that you would definitely be super, extra interested to know about... Shame you'll never know what it is."

She turned and started to walk away. Castiel appeared in front of her again. His usual neutral expression was gone, replaced with an annoyed scowl.

"Tell me what you found."

"Take me out."

"Meg."

"Cas."

Castiel let a phrase marinate in his mouth for a few seconds, swishing it around beneath his tongue and through his teeth. His mouth contorted unnaturally as he let it slip out, resenting every syllable.

"Please, tell me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Meg mused, turning her ear toward him.

"Please."

"Pretty please with honey on it?"

"Yes. Pretty please with... with honey on it," Castiel said, feeling terribly silly and hating Meg all the more intensely for making him feel that way.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Meg purred, incurably satisfied with herself. "Tell you what. I'll tell you what I found out, and if you like it, you promise you'll take me out sometime?"

"Sometime convenient."

"Of course. I'd hate to impose."

"Very well."

"You're not the only angel on earth."

"Impossible. There are no other angels on earth."

"No, there's one," Meg held up a finger.

"I would have felt their presence."

"You're telling me there's no way you featherheads can hide from each other?" Meg asked, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest. Castiel thought about it for a minute. It was indeed possible that another of his kind could intentionally conceal their presence from him, but if that was the case, it raised a disturbing quesion.

"Why would another angel hide themselves from me?"

"Maybe he's shy," Meg suggested playfully.

"Bashfulness is not a quality many of my kind are burdened with."

"Whatever you say. Look, my information is good. Whether you believe it and what you decide to do with it are up to you. I had to visit some dark, nasty places to get it, talk to some breathtakingly skeevy characters... imagine someone evil enough to make my skin crawl. Not a pretty picture, right? So, I deserve a reward for this one. What do you say, Clarence? Have some fun with me? I promise I'll show you the time of your i-dotting, t-crossing life. Maybe give that straight halo of yours a little spin, eh?"

Castiel tuned out most of what Meg said. The news she bore was indeed very exciting. He kept a blank expression, a 'poker face' as Dean called it, but secretly, his heart leapt at the discovery. The second emotion that hit him was overwhelming confusion. He had many questions and he chose his first carefully.

"Who is this other?" he asked, taking care to keep all traces of his thoughts out of his tone.

"Did you even hear anything I just said?" Meg demanded.

"Yes, Meg, you did very well," Castiel commended her, the praise hollow and hurried. "Now please, I require more details. Who is the angel?"

"Can't say. All I know is that they're here and they're on the move," Meg informed him.

"We have to track them down. I must speak with them."

"Doesn't seem like they want to be found. You sure you want to open that can of worms?"

"There are no worms."

"Sure about that? You haven't heard from any others like you in years, right? How many times have you reached out by now? A million, or a million and one?"

"Your point?"

"This guy's been here since before you showed up to grace our little earthly plane. He's been ignoring you this long, hiding himself, the whole nine. I'm just saying, sometimes the smart move is to leave well enough alone when someone obviously doesn't want to be found."

"Your services have been much appreciated, Meg," Castiel told her, ignoring her and bulldozing his way past the topic. "So much so that I will indeed, 'go out on the town' with you one day. In the mean time, it will interest you to know that I have uncovered the location of the item you seek."

"What? You have?" Meg demanded, taken aback. "I... I didn't even think you were really looking for it."

"I didn't need to look. I have known its location this whole time."

"All damn year?!"

"Excuse my reticence regarding the information. I feared you would withdraw your assistance the minute I gave it up."

"So, where is it?"

"Cairo. I have an address, as a matter of fact."

Meg sputtered and gaped, struggling to find words through her disbelief.

"And... and... you're just giving me the address?" she finally managed. "You can't possibly trust me... You know I'm up to no good, right? You know I'm gonna use it to-"

"I am aware of your ill intentions, Meg. I don't find them to be all that concerning."

"What?! Why not?! What, you don't think I have the juice to pull it off?!" Meg demanded.

"No, I believe you are more than capable of achieving your goal," Castiel assured her.

"Wow," Meg sighed, clicking her tongue and looking the angel up and down with renewed fascination. "Wow, I can't believe your precious integrity is so important to you that you actually went through with it. Incredible. You're such an insufferable goody-two shoes it's almost sickening!"

"My word is very important to me. However, I must confess that my reservations in regards to our deal were tempered significantly by my confidence that someone will stop you."

"That's presumptive of you. You didn't tell anyone what I'm up to, did you? You promised you wouldn't."

After such a grand gesture of good faith, Meg had a hard time believing Castiel would have broken his secondary promise.

"Of course not. I may, however, have tipped Sam Winchester off to the existence of the artifact you seek," Castiel said. His perfectly neutral facade cracked a little, the slightest hint of a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth and betraying his satisfaction with himself. "Of course, I refrained from revealing the exact nature of the object and the fact that you seek it as well."

"Sneaky bastard," Meg scoffed. She should have been outraged at the revelation, but she couldn't stop herself from grinning. "So you're not too good to exploit a loophole. I can respect that. It's good to know you're not such a pure little lamb after all. It's a little exciting, as a matter of fact. Gets me all tingly in my favorite places to tingle."

"One more thing before you go, Meg. Where was the last place this other angel is known to have been?"

"Whoa now, what makes you so sure I'm about to bolt?"

"You have what you want. Why would you stay?" Castiel asked. His head cocked ever so slightly to the right as his brow knit with mystification.

"Well, I've waited this long. What's a little while longer? Anyway, I can't wreck the world before you take me out," Meg purred, tucking her hands into her pockets and flashing him a suggestive smile that was all teeth and waggling eyebrows. "Besides, there's no way you'll be able to find this guy on your own. You still need me, Clarence."

"This night of revelry I have promised is more important to you than ending the world as we know it?" Castiel asked skeptically.

"What can I say, I'm a party animal. So, we gonna find your long lost brother, or what?"

Back In The Present...

Sam rolled into Los Angeles just in time to meet a devastating wave of evening traffic.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, slowing to a complete halt on the freeway. The cars around him moved at a painstaking pace and he wasn't the only one frustrated by the paralyzing wait. Honks, curses, even a gunshot at one point filled the air as commuters inched forward feet at a time, bumper to bumper, sprawled out over miles of suffocating, jam-packed lanes.

Sam checked his phone for the hundredth time. He'd been waiting for Dean to call him back for hours. Now, he had the opportunity to place a call of his own without running the risk of barreling off the highway at nearly a hundred and eighty miles an hour. He hit the call button and let his car glide forward without giving it any gas, his movement slug-like. The line rang and rang and finally went to voicemail.

"Come on, Dean."

Something was wrong. Dean should have called him back by now, should have gone after Mary already. Sam tried Allison, but the line didn't even ring. It went straight to voicemail. Sam chewed his lip and put his phone away, heart hammering in his chest as anxiety and worry ate at him. His nerves were made worse by the torturous pace of the traffic holding him hostage.

It was forty-five minutes before he managed to escape the swarming hordes of commuters all fighting to make their way home for the night. He drove down Allison's street, past her house to find that Dean's car was gone. So they had already left. Why hadn't he heard anything from them?

Sam pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. He retrieved the spare key from under a false bottom in the mailbox, but when he went to unlock the door, he realized it had never been locked to begin with. Dean and Allison had left in such a hurry that they forgot to lock up behind themselves. Dread had been settled in the pit Sam's stomach all day, slowly metastasizing. Now it threatened to consume him as he threw the door open and stepped into the dark house. The only sound was his heavy breathing and thunderous footsteps as he searched for clues, anything that could give him a hint as to where Allison and Dean had gone.

He flipped the light switch in the dining room, revealing the messy aftermath of Allison's quickly contrived tracking spell. The room reeked of pitch and herbs, strong enough to make Sam's nose crumple as a low groan escaped him. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve as he approached the table, examining the broken bowl and drying paste. He recognized this spell. It was Allison's go-to when she needed to find family. Sam was struck by an idea. He checked his phone one last time, then ran outside to tear his trunk apart. Knives, talismans, guns, ammo, stakes, all tossed aside as he rooted around, searching for the one thing that could help him find Allison and his brother, searching for...

A compass!

Sam found it, buried in a corner of his trunk under the bag containing his unwashed laundry. He snatched it up and raced back into the house, enduring the stench of the paste as he ripped out one of his hairs. He scooped up a dab of the putrid concoction and rubbed it across the bottom of the compass. He wrapped his hair around the compass three times, the paste effectively gluing it into place.

"Crap!"

Sam knew there was an incantation that activated the spell, but he struggled to remember it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried out words, stumbling over the latin before it finally came back to him.

The needle spun wildly for a brief moment, then settled. Sam was already on his way out the door by the time it stilled. He burnt rubber as he screeched out of Allison's driveway, checking his phone one last time as he got up to speed, rounding corners furiously in his race to find his family.

Still no word from either of them.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Meg searched an apartment in Brussels for any trace of the entity they sought.

"This makes no sense," Castiel grumbled, regarding the richly, colorfully furnished space with confused disdain. "What business would an angel have in an abode such as this?"

"You got me there," Meg replied, thumbing through a dvd collection in an entertainment center. She selected a title and held it up to show Cas. "Whoever this guy is, his halo isn't nearly as straight as yours, Clarence."

"Casa Erotica Volume 7. Extra Sausage Delivery... I do not understand. Was he researching the art of pizza delivery?"

"Ok, you're officially too much," Meg chortled. "Tell you what..."

She pulled Castiel's coat open and tucked the movie into one of its inner pockets. She closed his coat and patted the dvd with a mischievous smile.

"Give that a watch sometime and get back to me when you understand."

She winked at him and went back to searching the apartment.

"I 'm confused. Do you think it will help our investigation? If so, we should watch it immediately."

"Whoa there, sweet cheeks, I'm a respectable gal," Meg protested, barely holding back her laughter at his naivety. "I'm all for taking this relationship to the next level, but for heaven's sake, at least buy me a drink first."

"You're doing it again, Meg," Castiel growled unhappily. "Speak plainly or do not speak at all."

"Such a sourpuss. I'm going to check out the bedroom. If this guy keeps his porn in the living room, I can only imagine what goodies are waiting in the 'ol boudoir. You take the kitchen, vanilla cake. Try not to get too excited looking in the guy's vegetable drawer."

"I no longer know if you are employing euphemisms or not," Castiel sighed. He made his way to the kitchenette. Aside from the abundance of candy he found in the cabinets, his search of the premises yielded no remarkable discoveries.

"There's nothing in here but chocolate, various bubbly alcohols and... fine wines," Castiel called, reading the label of a red that claimed to be older than Meg. He considered taking it as a gift for Allison. While he disapproved of her latest habit, he did still owe her a favor for talking Dean out of going skydiving for his birthday a few years ago.

"Nothing fun in here either, shockingly," Meg called from the bedroom.

Please help me, please help my Daddy!

Castiel stiffened and raised his head, wine forgotten as a familiar voice invaded his awareness. Mary's prayer was fervent and fearful, her tone clouded with despair and desperation. The mention of Dean was especially alarming. Castiel wasted no time, teleporting back to the side of the man he was still dutifully protecting after all these years.

"Clarence, I'm gonna call it," Meg sighed unaware, making her way to the kitchenette. "This is a bust."

A crash and the unmistakable din of shattering glass spurred her to a run, rounding the corner into the tiny kitchen to find it empty. Castiel was gone, the bottle of wine smashed on the floor, dropped in his haste.

"Castiel?" Meg called, so stupefied by his sudden, unannounced disappearance that she forgot to use her pet name for him. "Castiel! You bird-brain! Where the hell are you?"

She knew he could hear her, wherever he was. Still, he offered no sign, no response. After a few minutes, she scoffed and stepped around the spilled wine.

"Aren't you a courteous one," she sighed sarcastically.

Castiel flew to Dean's side just in time to see something wearing Dean's face drive off in the impala. Castiel glanced from the battered body lying on the ground at his feet, to the rapidly disappearing car and back again.

"Dean?"

No response.

Castiel crouched and laid a hand on the back of Dean's head. He was mortally wounded, but not quite yet dead. Confusion filled Castiel. It had been years since Dean gave up hunting. What was he doing out here? What had hurt him so badly? What had caused the immense destruction that surrounded them?

"Excuse me."

A high, thin voice, nasal and unpleasant, managed to startle Castiel. Very few things in existence were capable of sneaking up on him. He looked up and locked eyes with a reaper, wearing the guise of a woman.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked crossly, hands on her hips as she towered over the angel.

"I am healing this man."

"He's almost dead."

"Yes. That is why I am healing him."

"Leave well enough alone, dominion," the reaper hissed, surprising Castiel with its ferocity. Usually reapers were passive beings, content to sit on the sidelines and wait for fate to play out.

"I have been tasked with-"

"I am aware."

"Then why-"

"Heal this man and he will officially have evaded his demise more times than any other human in the entire history of the species. It's high time someone put an end to this foolishness."

"I apologize if Dean Winchester's continued survival has managed to offend you."

"It has."

"But I cannot allow him to die as of yet."

"And when will you 'allow' him to die?"

"I await further instructions on the matter."

"You await- Child, no further instructions will come your way," the reaper sneered. "Or didn't you get the memo? Nearly all the rest of your kind have withdrawn from this world."

"I am aware that the earth is currently devoid-"

"The Earth?! They really didn't bother to clue you in, did they? They left without you?" the reaper demanded, nonplussed by the realization. Dean stirred on the ground between them, almost fully revived. The reaper began to fade, melting away as its target slipped beyond its grasp.

"Left? Where did they go? Clue me in to what?" Castiel asked, too late. The reaper had already vanished.

Dean pushed himself up off the ground, looking around in a daze.

"Cas... where's Mary?" he asked as it all came flooding back in a devastating wave, reality hitting him like a gut punch.

"I don't know where she is, only that it was her prayers that alerted me to the situation. Dean, what happened here?"

"There's a thing... I thought it was a shapeshifter at first- Well, at first I thought it was Alice, but I guess it's not, so I just thought- hey, we don't have time for this! You need to go find Mary right now!"

"Dean-"

"Wait, wait! Allison! We have to go back! You brought me back just now, right?!"

"I brought you back from the brink of death, if that-"

"You have to help Allison!"

Dean stood and started pulling Castiel toward the corn field, now ablaze at its middle point. The fire was spreading slowly but surely toward them.

"Dean, I can't-"

"She's this way, you can help her, you can-"

"DEAN!"

Castiel shouted and jerked himself free, stopping Dean in his tracks.

"Allison isn't here. I don't feel her at all," Castiel told him. "Tell me what happened."

"The shifter- or, whatever that thing is..."

Dean trailed off, choking up as he glanced at the advancing flames.

"It killed Allison," Castiel realized. Dean's silence served as confirmation.

"You can fix it, can't you Cas?"

Castiel held his silence for a moment, honoring Allison's passing in his own way with a bowed head and a silent prayer for her safe passage onward.

"Can't you, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"Dean, it's one thing to heal someone. It is another entirely to resurr-"

"You did it for me! Hell, you've done it more than once!"

"It's not that simple, Dean. When it comes to you, I have permission. I have-"

"I swear to god if you say you have orders I'm going to stab you! Cas, it's Allison!"

"I know-"

"She's the closest thing Mary has to a mother, she's the closest thing I have to..."

Dean couldn't finish, couldn't find a word to quantify what Allison meant to him fast enough. Where Mary was his world, Allison had become his rock. Mary was the wind in his sails, Allison was his anchor. The ten year age difference between them made her his mentor, made her the wisest, most experienced person in their little home. She was the glue that held their family together. Without her encouragement, Dean would never even have met his daughter, let alone had the chance to raise her. It was Allison who pulled a stable environment virtually out of thin air so that Mary wouldn't have to go through what Dean had at her age, the moving and the uncertainty. Never knowing where you would be tomorrow, wondering whenever you met someone new how long it would be before you lost them.

For everything Allison had given Dean, everything she'd done for him or bullied him into going through with, the things she had done for Mary rose above and beyond. For all their fights, all their disagreements, all the differences in their styles and opinions, Dean would never be able to repay Allison for being there for his daughter, even when he hadn't been. He didn't know what he would do without her.

While Dean fought to find the right words, Castiel's expression became sorrowful, but resolute. Dean recognized the look.

"Dean, she was my friend too," Castiel said, the sincerity in his tone going unnoticed by Dean as anger rose in him. "If there was something I could do-"

"You son of a bitch!"

Dean knew from experience what the look on Castiel's usually serene face meant. There weren't enough words on earth or in heaven to move the angel to act. His decision was already made and there was nothing Dean could do that would change it.

Dean cursed and raged while the fire spread closer and closer. Castiel waited for him to work through his repertoire of slurs, hoping he would wind down before the flames reached them. He took too long for Castiel's comfort, however, so Castiel reached for Dean's shoulder. Dean swatted his hand away and kept ranting.

"- after everything we've been through, everything she did for us, you just don't give a damn! How can you just not care enough to-"

Castiel had restrained his emotions in the face of Dean's desolation, but he lost his composure at Dean's accusation that he didn't care.

"That's enough!"

Castiel grabbed Dean with both hands and dragged him away from the fire. He could have teleported them, but he felt like making a point. Dean forgot what he was. Castiel intended to remind him. Dean grunted and shouted, struggling against his hold, but Castiel dealt him a rough smack that sent him flying toward the freeway. Sirens blared in the distance, growing closer with every second as the blaze behind the angel and his ward grew larger and burned hotter.

"Don't presume to know the extent of my affection for Allison Smith!" Castiel snapped, bearing down on Dean. "You forget, I've been with you every step of the way! All these years, I've been by your side! I've held my silence, I've tolerated your blatant disregard, even your outright disdain, Dean Winchester! I've plucked Mary from dangers you never knew about! You never knew because I was always there, I was always watching, I was always protecting the family you so willfully exclude me from!"

Dean rose, nursing a split lip. Castiel somehow managed to loom over him, despite the fact that Dean had the high ground. With the flames at his back and the fire of wrath burning in his eyes, Castiel looked the part of the avenging angel.

"You have the audacity," Castiel ranted on, stepping up to get in Dean's face, "to drag her out on a hunt, put her in harm's way, then blame me when I am unable to save her? Do not foist your guilt upon me, Winchester. This calamity is on your head! And I refuse to stand here and act as the outlet for your frustrations."

Castiel shoved past him. Again, he could have teleported, but again, his actions were strongly intentional, meant to signal his seriousness to the human in a way that words couldn't capture. The angel was still learning the subtleties of body language, but he'd watched Dean and Allison fight enough battles to know how to convey the brash, clear messages of scorn.

"If you need me, as you so often do, I'll be at home," he informed Dean over his shoulder as he prepared to take his leave, "comforting Mary. As you should be."

"Mary's not at home."

Dean's words stopped Castiel in his tracks. Up to that moment, he had assumed that Dean and Allison ran out chasing a monster and it went wrong. He assumed Mary was hunkering in her room, praying for her father's safe return. If that wasn't the case...

"I didn't drag Allison out hunting some random monster," Dean went on, quiet rage smoldering under his words that he contained carefully. Now wasn't the time to risk Castiel's wrath. There were more pressing matters at hand, matters that needed to be addressed before they degenerated into squabbling. "The monster came to us. It took Mary. We were just... Cas, we were trying to get her back. And now... now Allison's gone, my car's gone, Mary's gone, the monster... everything is gone. I don't know where they went, I don't even know where to begin. All I..."

Dean took a deep breath, telling himself that the tears stinging his eyes were just the result of the smoke billowing into the air, surrounding them in a layer that threatened to choke them as they stood in its midst.

"All I know is I have to save my daughter."

Castiel turned back to Dean, expression indecipherable. Dean searched for any indication that his words had impacted the angel, but found none. He was forced to wait for Cas to speak.

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" Castiel asked at last.

"I..."

Dean was ashamed to admit that it was spite that had kept him from summoning his protector. It felt like a lifetime ago that Mary had told him about her discussion with the angel. Dean still took the insult to his daughter's humanity seriously, but in hindsight, he couldn't help but despair at the thought that had he called Cas for help, Allison would still be alive.

"I... I didn't think," Dean found himself saying. He couldn't admit the real reason aloud. "It all happened so fast... Mary was gone and we were in such a rush to get her back, we thought it was just a shapeshifter... Cas, I've killed a dozen shifters. We had no idea this would go so sideways. It never even crossed our minds... we didn't think..."

"You have a lot of practice at not thinking," Castiel scowled. "From now on, try the opposite."

Dean was too weary, too guilt-ridden, too busy struggling to breathe through the smoke clogging the air to snap back at him.

"I will help you find Mary," Castiel informed him. "Wait here. I have one final thing to attend to before I give this crisis my full attention."

"What-"

Castiel was already gone, leaving Dean on the side of the highway as fire trucks barreled toward him. The sun was setting behind the fire in the corn field that was Allison's funeral pyre. The horizon was red as blood, smog and haze obscuring the sunset and casting darkness early over the scene of the tragedy. Dean gazed into the inferno, grief pulsing like fresh blood from a new wound even Cas would never be able to heal.

Silently, Dean said his good-byes to Allison Smith.