"Fuck."

The truth was, Alice was bluffing hard. Micheal Dixon-Smith was right. She didn't have it in her to annihilate the Smiths while they had Dean. She told herself she didn't care about him anymore, that she just couldn't betray him again. She told herself her strict 'diet' of good deeds wouldn't allow it. She ignored the fact that when she pictured Dean dead again, panic and anguish settled in her gut, festering within seconds to make her feel physically sick. She told herself she owed him, had to make it up to him for the times she'd shattered his trust.

She knew she was lying to herself, but she ignored that fact too.

"Fuck!"

Alice was relieved at Dean's greatly increased chances of walking out of this mess alive. She was relieved that his kid hadn't actually gotten dragged into it. The last thing she needed was Dean Winchester blaming her for yet another catastrophe. She was still trying to make it up to him for the last one she was responsible for. Despite that relief, she found herself burdened with mortal dread. Alice was good at a lot of things, but she wasn't exactly a great shot. A lifetime of stubbornly preferring knives had, it seemed, finally caught up with her. She always justified her bias with contrived practicality. Guns were loud, messy, attracted attention, not to mention that half the things she hunted on a regular basis would spit a bullet back out and laugh.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She still had hours to go. She needed to get back to her shifter host, get her hands on a revolver and practice her ass off until it was time to do this.

Alice would have damn near sold her soul to get her old abilities back. Sure, her Trickster's Touch had its share of drawbacks, tied her in plenty of unsavory knots before she got the hang of watching what she said, but Alice knew the Smiths weren't shooting straight with her about this duel. This was a setup at best, a death trap at worst. She shuddered remembering the mysterious capabilities her estranged extended family possessed. She remembered the hex bags powerful enough to kill a demon or even trap one as high up the food chain as Lilith. She remembered the tiny vial that had the power to completely contain her spirit, bind and render her absolutely impotent. What other tricks did they have up their sleeve?

Alice knew that her odds of walking away from this fight weren't good. Briefly, her sense of self-preservation kicked in, urging her to cut and run.

Dean'll be fine. He's smart, resourceful, tough. He can get out of it on his own.

Except Alice couldn't ignore the fact that Dean wouldn't even be in this position if she hadn't sent him into the belly of the beast. Their entire past aside, that fact alone shut her inner voice up. She couldn't walk away from this.

Caroline contacted Alice twice after she arranged the fight. The first time was to set up a time and place. She let Micheal listen in on the conversation. When he was gone, she called Alice one more time.

"Pick another place," she demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"This is personal for all of us, but not all of us are acting honorably," Caroline said through gritted teeth. "I'd bet my life the first location's going to turn into an ambush. So pick another one."

"I'm three steps ahead of you," Alice informed her. In the background of the call, Caroline heard rapid gunfire. It sounded like Alice was taking practice shots. "I was already gonna call you an hour ahead of time and change the location."

The amount of distrust toward her family was starting to bug Caroline. Smiths were supposed to abide by their word. They were supposed to have a code of honor. If Dean and Alice's caution were any indication, it would seem that not all Smiths were taking that code as seriously as Caroline did.

"So I'll wait on your call," Caroline sighed.

"Sure."

"Do you know the etiquette?"

"There's etiquette?"

"Depending on what tradition you follow, there's boat loads of etiquette."

"I thought it was pretty simple. Ten steps, turn, shoot?"

"I guess that's the basics."

"And after?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

"You want to know what assurance you'll have that we won't keep coming after you."

"There is none."

"Just my word."

"Sure."

Alice's sarcasm bit Caroline's pride like ice.

"Look, Alice..."

"Save it. I don't trust you, but I'll play your game."

Caroline wanted to defend the integrity of her word, but she knew there was nothing she could say that would make Alice believe her.

"I'm sorry this family failed you," she said instead.

Caroline's words were unexpected, earnest and they caught Alice off guard. Caroline waited for her response for a long moment, before the line went dead.

Caroline meant what she said, even if Alice would never believe her. What Alice had done to their family defied logic, but she was still blood. Caroline knew her blood. She believed with an unwavering, blind faith that no Smith would turn against their own family. At least, not without provocation.

Family was nothing if not complicated. Nothing in life was messier than family, more gray in terms of morality. Even Micheal didn't deny that Greta had wronged Alice, though no one but perhaps Kaydie knew the exact nature of the slight that had escalated into such a long war. Not that it mattered how it began. All Caroline could do was try her damnedest to end it before any more Smiths lost their lives to it.

Dean didn't know how long he spent in the bare, windowless room that served as his cell. He paced, bouncing off the walls with agitation as his mind raced. He missed his daughter with a passion. All he wanted was to see her again.

"I swear to god, I'm done hunting after this," he growled to himself. "Never again. I'm too old for this shit."

Time danced around him, playing cruel tricks on his head as he struggled to keep anxiety from overcoming him. He'd been through this before. The waiting game was the hardest to play, especially when the stakes were so high. Give Dean something to do, give him something he could kill. He hated sitting on his hands while shit went down all around him, helpless to do anything but spectate.

Give him something to kill. Or in this case, someone.

Dean was deathly serious about killing Micheal. No one got away with threatening his daughter. He focused on that, using rage to sharpen his mind, harden his resolve as the wait threatened to reduce him to a nail-biting heap in the corner.

When the door finally did open, it was Caroline who came for him. She sized him up and he repaid her interest in kind. Dean's appearance was haggard. Caroline was clean, but she looked almost as tired as Dean felt. It was immediately clear to both that neither had slept a wink.

Caroline held up a pair of handcuffs, giving Dean time to see them before she tossed them into his lap.

"Put them on."

Dean complied. He'd been sitting in the corner long enough to be stiff and couldn't help wincing as he clicked the cuffs into place. Sympathy crossed Caroline's face and Dean despised it. He scowled, pushing through the pain of a split lip and a swollen eye in his determination to let Caroline know that he scorned her empathy.

"Come on," she sighed.

Dean rose, stretching as he went, shaking off his fatigue. He let Caroline guide him out of the house into the icy predawn darkness. Mist covered the ground, hiding their feet as she ushered him toward a car. Dean's car, he realized. Micheal sat in the back seat, fiddling with the barrel of the colt. Hatred surged in Dean as he fixed Micheal with a death glare. Micheal didn't spare him a glance until Caroline surprised them both by opening the driver's side door of the car and waving Dean in.

"Carol, what-"

"Alice's terms," Caroline cut him off. "Dean drives."

"She doesn't get to dictate terms to us!" Micheal snapped.

"No dictation, mutual agreement," Caroline rebutted. "Come on, Dixon, we'll end up where we need to be regardless of who's driving the car."

Micheal pursed his lips, shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't speak again. Dean started driving, hands still cuffed as they rolled out of the Smiths compound. Dean wished he could burn the place to the ground.

Caroline directed him East, over the bridge and out of Arkansas. Just as Tennessee greeted them, Dean's ringtone sounded from Kaydie's pocket. She answered the call.

"Yes. Yes, we're driving. Ok."

She held the phone up to Dean's ear. A glance in the rearview mirror allowed Dean to see Micheal's eyes narrow to slits. He leaned forward in an attempt to overhear the call.

"Dean?"

"Alice."

"Are you ok?"

"Define ok."

"You're fine," she said, relief apparent in her tone. "Can they hear us?"

"No."

"Good. How well do you know Memphis?"

"I've rolled through my fair share of times. I gotta say, I'm more familiar with Tunica," Dean quipped.

"Uh-huh, I bet. Here's what I want you to do. Pick a place. Text me the address. Don't let the Smiths see. Delete the message. I'll meet you there."

"Clandestine texting and driving? That's gonna be a tough multi-task, especially in handcuffs."

"Work it out with Caroline. Don't worry, ok? I'm playing along with this on the off-chance they actually clear my ledger, but if they touch you again I swear-"

"Spare me," Dean scowled.

"I just mean I'm gonna get you out of this, one way or another. This ends with you going back home to Mary. That's a promise."

Dean wanted to be mad at Alice, wanted to put all the blame on her for getting him into this mess, but he'd known the risks when he walked into the Smiths fortress. The sincerity in her voice made it hard for him to hold it against her.

"If you say so," he said, only the slightest edge of bitterness tinging the words. He hung up and slowed the car to a halt on the side of the road.

"What are you doing?!" Micheal demanded.

"She wants me to pick a place," Dean told Caroline. "I'm gonna get out of this car and text her the address. You're gonna keep tweedledum back there in line while I do it. Then we're gonna get this show back on the road."

Caroline nodded graciously. Dean ignored Micheal's protests as he got out of the car, mind racing as he struggled to conjure a mental map of the city he'd had a few fun times in. Inside the impala, Caroline was forced to reach back and physically restrain Micheal. His door opened enough for Dean to hear him cursing her out. He didn't have a lot of time. He texted Alice the first place that came to mind, a park he remembered only because it was next to a hotel where he'd stayed for a few nights once upon a time.

Dean deleted the message just as Micheal broke free from Caroline's grasp and tumbled out of the car. He scrambled to his feet, snatching the phone from Dean too late.

"You sneaky son of a-"

"That's enough!" Caroline barked, poking her head up out of the car. "Dean, get back in the car! We're burning darkness here. This isn't something we want to be doing by the light of day!"

"You're not seriously-"

"This is your last chance, Dixon!" Caroline snapped, silencing him as Dean slipped back into the driver's seat. He considered shoving Caroline the rest of the way out of the car and driving off, but she got back in and shut the door behind herself before he could try. She spoke to her cousin through the open back door. "Get back in the car and come represent our family in this duel, or I'll take that damn gun from you, leave you here and do it myself!"

Micheal was livid, features twisted and ugly with rage. He got back into the car and slammed the door behind him. Dean's blood boiled, but the slight against his baby went on the pile of things he was going to kill Micheal for. He let his fury simmer beneath his skin, kept it contained as he started driving.

"You're a traitor to our entire family!" Micheal snapped at Caroline. "When this is over, I'm calling a vote for your exile."

With that, Micheal confirmed what Dean already knew. If they hadn't changed the venue, the duel would have become an ambush. Otherwise, Micheal wouldn't have been upset by the change of plans.

"So now it's a crime to conduct ourselves with a little honor?" Caroline scoffed. "If this family is that far gone, you won't need to call a vote. I'll leave on my own."

Furious silence filled the impala as it sliced through the black morning, eddies of swirling mist left in the wake of its passage. Micheal fumed, Dean plotted and Caroline pondered, vigilant even through her troubled contemplation.

Dean slowed to a stop at the curb that bordered the park. Trees loomed tall in the darkness, bordering a playground and paved trails that wound and twisted away into the fog that was just beginning to thin as daybreak threatened. The three of them left the car behind. As they trekked deeper into the park, Caroline reached into her jacket pocket and produced a single bullet. She presented it to Micheal.

"You know how-"

"Fuck off, Caroline!" Micheal growled. He snatched the bullet from her and loaded it.

"Do this right, Dixon," Caroline said with narrowed eyes. "I won't stand by and watch you-"

"I get it, Carol! I get it!"

Dean sincerely doubted Micheal got it. He set his jaw. There was no way in hell Micheal was going to shoot at the same time as Alice. Lucky for Alice, Dean had something resembling a plan. Micheal wasn't walking away from this fight. Not if Dean could do anything about it.

"Where the hell is she?" Micheal demanded, searching the creeping charcoal fog for any sign of movement.

"She'll be here," Dean sighed. He nudged Caroline's arm with his elbow. "Can I have a word with you?"

She nodded and pulled him a few steps away from Micheal.

"He's gonna shoot Alice in the face the minute he lays eyes on her," Dean muttered vehemently the second they were out of earshot.

"He won't."

"You sound awfully sure."

"I had a talk with Micheal. He'll follow the etiquette."

"Yeah, well excuse me if I don't think a 'talk' is gonna keep him in line," Dean scowled. "The guy doesn't exactly respect your authority."

"Maybe not. But he respects that I'm a quicker draw than he is," Caroline said grimly. Dean's eyebrows shot up. So much for Alice and Micheal being the only ones armed.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Dean started back, but hesitated.

"You wouldn't really shoot him," he said.

"That's what he said too."

"Great. I'm feeling better about this by the second."

"Dixon won't test me," Caroline assured him.

"I guess we'll see soon."

"I guess we will."

Dean couldn't help but trust Caroline's intentions. She didn't need to let him drive them here, didn't need to let Alice change the location. Experience with her family made him want to be suspicious of her, made him want to despise her on principle, but the most he could muster against her was grudging ambivalence. She was too sincere, too transparent, too damn authentic for him to dislike her the way he wanted to. He believed that if push came to shove, she would do her best to keep Micheal in line. Her word, the non-existent family honor that she believed in so passionately, these things were more important to her than her cousin. Dean didn't fool himself for a minute into thinking that Caroline harbored anything but animosity toward Alice, but he'd known people like her before. Integrity was everything to someone like her. She was the kind of person who didn't believe in vengeance, only justice. She divided the world strictly, structured her reality in black and white with no exceptions.

Caroline may have believed Alice was evil, but she also believed that killing her the wrong way would make her just as bad as her enemy. Dean knew he didn't need to worry about Caroline. Only Micheal, fiddling with the colt as he searched the dissipating mist for any sign of Alice's arrival. Dean fixed him with a sidelong glare, malice filling him as Micheal's clumsy threat echoed in his skull.

What about her? I'm guessing she's not as tough as her Daddy, huh?

Dean's one regret was that he wouldn't be the one to pull the trigger, fire the bullet that ended Micheal Dixon-Smith's life.

Dean smelled Alice before he saw her. The stench of her cigarettes drifted over Dean and the Smiths on a slight breeze that pushed the last of the mist out of the park. Above, the sky turned cold steel gray as night began to lose its grip on the city. Alice stepped out from behind a tree, puffing away as she considered the small gathering. Caroline watched Micheal intently, alert for any sign of misconduct. Micheal's gaze shifted uneasily between Caroline and Alice, on guard for any sign of an opportunity to take his vengeance without incurring Caroline's wrath.

"So. Here I am," Alice announced after a moment. She crushed her cigarette out in the dew-slicked grass and took a few steps forward.

"Here we are," Caroline agreed. She ushered Micheal forward, bringing him face to face mere feet from his adversary. Dean felt forgotten as the silence in the park intensified, becoming thick enough to choke on as Alice and Micheal squared off.

"Backs together," Caroline directed the combatants. The pre-dawn air was frigid, but a few drops of nervous sweat collected on her brow as they followed her instructions. Micheal's gaze bore into hers, making silent demands. She shook her head at him ever so slightly, kept her eyes cold and professional, giving him no concession.

Alice was the only one avoiding eye contact with those around her. Her attention was spread thin, caution and anxiety putting her a hair's breadth away from bolting or shooting.

"Ten steps," Caroline reminded them as she hurried away to stand behind Dean. "Three. Two. One."

Dean muttered an incantation under his breath, barely breathing as his lips moved, forming the words he hoped would damn Micheal.

"Cor ad cor."

His eyes were fixed on Micheal as he waited with forced patience for his moment. One step. Two steps. Three.

Alice stepped heavily, mortal terror weighting each footfall. Four steps. Five steps. Six. Each stride felt like it could be her last. She kept waiting for Micheal to break the rules, turn and fire first, end her life and their family feud once and for all.

Micheal watched Caroline every step of the way. Seven steps. Eight steps. Nine. She was firm, immovable as a granite cliff. Her hand lingered close to her back pocket. Micheal hated her for forcing this ritual on him, but he resigned himself to his one shot. One shot was all he needed, he reassured himself with savage determination. One shot to remedy one mistake. He'd let his family down years ago by showing mercy. Today, he would show no mercy, no hesitation.

The tenth step.

Alice and Micheal whirled around to face one another. Caroline's breath caught in her throat as they raised their guns. Dean focused every ounce of rage, every iota of fury, every drop of hatred he had at Micheal with laser sharp intentions. He dug up painful things long buried, agonies he usually struggled to forget. Today, they saw the light. For once, they would do him a little good.

Micheal's body went rigid under Dean's Torxing, paralyzed with pain at the most critical moment. He had a split second to realize what was happening to him. Not long enough to move, not long enough to cry out. Just long enough to meet Dean's ugly glare and know who was truly responsible for his death.

Alice fired. Micheal fell.