Chapter 9

Scotts Mills, the Willamette Valley, Oregon

For a long moment, the room was silent, human and angel and nephilim staring at Castiel. Then it was broken by the sounds of chairs scraping back over the hardwood floor.

"What?" Dean took a step closer to the angel. "Where?"

"In Kansas. The Princes have opened a gate." Castiel's gaze turned to the Watchers. "Michael needs every sword."

Chazaquiel, Sariel and Talya nodded, getting up immediately, the nephilim with them. Talya left the room at a fast walk and Dean thought she was probably going to call Baraquiel and Bezaliel.

"Has Lucifer found the soul?" Ellie got to her feet, walking to Castiel. Dean followed her.

The angel shook his head. "No. Lucifer is not with them. The Princes are still looking. They have…spread out across the land, searching for it. I don't know how they will find it, or if they already know where it is."

"What about us?" Dean asked. "What can we do?"

"Right now, nothing," Castiel said. "But if you can raise more hunters, we'll have other locations for you to block and hold."

"Gates," Dean said flatly, and the angel nodded.

"Cas, I need to talk to you about the soul." Ellie moved out of the way as the Watchers and nephilim gathered near the door. "Pen wrote that only three lines in Heaven were compatible with the Adversary. Was he talking about Lucifer?"

"Yes." Castiel looked over her head to the door. Dean thought he looked like he wanted to be gone. Ellie hadn't said much about the Watcher's notes since Sam had gotten back. He was reluctant to pull her away. Her instincts were usually what had kept them both alive.

"The three lines are Araquiel, Amaros and Azazel?"

"I don't know."

"Then I need to see Michael," she pressed him.

He looked down at her. "Michael is on the field. We're at war, Ellie."

Ellie felt like kicking him. "It's important, Cas, if Lucifer regains his power you won't have the strength of arms to hold them."

The angel turned away and she looked at him in frustration. "Cas, is the soul they're looking for descended from all three lines?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Ellie."

His gaze lifted, focusing on someone behind and she turned. Sariel stood behind her.

"Castiel."

"I'm glad you will be with us, my brother." Castiel looked back down at Ellie. "I will ask Michael. I'll return when I can."

He lifted his voice. "Watchers, nephilim, to me, now."

The Watchers and nephilim gathered around Castiel and the angel closed his eyes, white light beginning to glow around him.

Ellie felt a hand on her arm, drawing her back, away from the light and the angels. Dean pulled her back to the other end of the room.

The light flashed and faded and the end of the room was empty.

"Well, that's bad timing." Trent remarked to no one in particular.

"I'm going to Kansas." Sam kept his gaze on Dean's face, not looking at Tricia.

Stalking across the living room to the sideboard that held their collection of liquor, Dean scowled, throwing back over his shoulder, "To get yourself killed? No."

He poured a couple of inches of Blue into a glass and turned around, his gaze on his little brother a baleful glare. He didn't have enough things to worry about with Ellie, Cas and Hell? Sam had to throw his hat into the ring too?

Sam rose to his feet. "Lucifer's there. It'll be a chance to kill him."

"We don't have anything that can kill him," Dean reminded him, his tone caustic.

"You said the Colt might," Sam said, "now that he's without his powers."

On the sofa, Ellie shook her head. "No, Lucifer was clear about that. With or without the power of Heaven or Hell, I don't think it works that way, Sam. You need something stronger than the Colt. And Castiel said Lucifer wasn't on this plane. He'll be on the other side of the gate."

"The Hell side," Dean clarified. "Besides, Michael wants to kill him. He's wanted it for thousands of years; you've only had a bug up your ass about him for a few years."

Dean tossed back the whiskey, remembering the archangel's vehemence on the topic.

"Are we getting involved with this?" Trent asked, lifting a brow. "I thought they only needed us to lock up the gates and exorcise any that slipped through?"

"That's still the plan," Dean said. "We've got the coordinates of every gate—"

Headlights splashed along the wall and ceiling and everyone in the living room turned as the Camaro swung down the curve of the drive then stopped in front of the house.

Trent and Sam walked to the door, drawing their knives. Sam opened the door as Tricia and Dean took up positions behind them. Ellie heard the clunks from the car doors closing, then boots on the porch steps. Twist, Adam and Duvsha dropped their bags to the porch boards and rolled up their sleeves.

Trent made the small cuts, grunting in acknowledgement as the blood flowed red. Sam splashed borax solution along their arms and Tricia stepped forward with the salt shaker and silver flasks of holy water. Each hunter licked and drank and handled the flask, with nothing untoward resulting. Sam, Trent, Dean and Trish walked back into the house.

"Leave your stuff here," Sam said. "You can unpack in the morning."

"Do you want some dinner?" Tricia asked, heading for the kitchen when she got assents from all three.

"What happened?" Twist looked from Trent to Sam. "We miss something?"

"Not so much. Just had a visit from an angel saying Hell's risen." Trent shrugged. "In Kansas. All the Watchers and nephilim went along to fight."

Twist blinked a few times, then turned to Ellie. "That mean that Lucifer found the soul?"

"Doesn't seem like it." She shook her head. "The Princes are still looking."

"It's a big country, but given that it takes Cas about a second to search a town, I think we're on a very limited timetable here," Dean said, waving a hand expansively. "We have to protect the house."

"No." The temperature dropped fifteen degrees as Bobby materialised next to Dean looking solid and real. "You have to leave this house, and you have to do it now."

"What?"

"I've been looking around here for a better base, and there's a good one a couple of towns over. It's empty, for rent, it's got a steel frame, and it's big enough for everyone without tempers getting too hot." He looked from Dean to Ellie. "But we gotta get going now."

"The hell—why?" Dean demanded, his gaze fixed on the ghost. "What do you know?"

"Dean, Ellie, Ray just called." Frank came lumbering through the hall. "He says there are massive demon signs in the east, heading toward some of the known hunter homes. I checked the data—he's right. He's called as many as he can reach, but he thinks it's coordinated somehow…someone who knows a lot of details about the hunters in the US…someone who maybe went downstairs and gave it up."

Bobby scowled. "I told ya. We need to go now."

Ellie held up a hand. "We can't just turn up and break in," she said. "Dean, we'll go over there and have a look, see if I can't get hold of the agent. Okay?"

"Right."

Bobby shrugged. "Just be quick."

"Do we pack now or tomorrow?" Dean looked at Ellie.

"Tomorrow. We'll get food and clothes and the latest files for now." She turned to Tricia. "Can you tell Talya and Cassie to get their stuff together?"

"What about us?" Tricia asked, her gaze flicking to Sam.

"I'll grab our stuff." He headed for the stairs. Tricia wheeled around and ran for the door.

"Frank, you'll bring up the rear. We can fit a helluva lot of gear into your truck and the trailer," Dean snapped out to the programmer. He turned back to Ellie. "What do you need?"

"For tonight, just the computers from my desk, and the box of files under it. I'll pack a case for us. We'll need to load some hardware as well."

"Twist, Trent, can you come back and give us a hand with loading ordnance and files once you've got your stuff?" He looked at Adam and Katherine. "Adam, get your gear and give me a hand. Katherine, can you grab a couple of the empty boxes in the basement and load up some food from the kitchen? Just pack, don't carry."

Ellie walked up the stairs. A steel frame house should keep them off the radar of most. They would want to find some steel rail to protect the block if they could. Sending the demons after the hunters while the Host gathered might have been smart or stupid, she couldn't yet decide which.

Cascadia, Oregon

The rental house was enormous: twelve bedrooms, eight baths and with three small cottages on the property as well, all set into a wide clearing between the end of the road and the forest, the ground flat but high, looking out over the valley, and down the long side of the ridge. The access road was the only way in or out.

It was less than an hour's drive from Scotts Mills, the roads mostly county blacktop, empty in the late evening. While the hunters dispersed to their homes to pack what they needed, Dean and Ellie drove to the house, following Bobby's instructions, to look the property over. Even from the grounds, it looked ideal, not difficult to protect, out of the way and private.

There was a billboard out the front near the road, the agent's number listed and Ellie called, relieved when the number diverted to a private home phone. The agent sounded surprised by the request to lease the place from that night, but as the property had been sitting empty for months, it didn't take long to get her agreement when Ellie asked about buying if they were happy with the place. They would drive to the agent's office in the morning to sign the lease and get the keys. Tonight, though, they could move over. There was a spare set of keys on the site, hidden near the door and the agent gave Ellie the location as soon as the first three months rent payment went through electronically.

A fast walk through reassured her and Dean. They walked back to the truck and got in.

"How long do you think it'll take to get everything over?" Dean asked as he started the engine.

Ellie leaned back against the seat. "Maybe a day. When we go to pick up the keys and sign the lease, we'll hire a flatbed, see if we can't get most of it over in one trip?"

Beside her, Dean heaved a sigh. "Any ideas on what happened?"

"Best guess? One of the demons found a soul that knew us, knew about us, hunters, I mean and tortured it out of them."

"Get a ticket to Hell, perhaps it wasn't torture?"

She turned to him. "We'll never know that. Not much point in speculation."

He nodded, his mouth setting in a line. "What about everyone else?"

"I got hold of Laney and Moses. They're diverting to Boise. They'll stick Shamsiel and Sagi on a plane and they'll go north for a while, stay out of sight," Ellie said. "Everyone else that I can get hold of know the situation. They've moved, changed IDs, are looking over their shoulders and protecting their digs."

"Good." He glanced sideways at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." She rubbed her wrist against her temple. "Cassie will have to stick around a bit longer."

"I know," Dean said, his tone apologetic. "I figured Baraquiel and Talya can have one of those cottages, Cassie can still stay there with them?"

"If they, and she, don't mind. It will be much closer quarters in that cottage."

Four hours later, they were on their way back, the truck bed packed with cartons, a long convoy of mismatched vehicles loaded with items ordinary and extraordinarily illegal, with Frank's Airstream bringing up the rear. As they drove, Ellie glanced into the side mirror, catching sight of the silver trailer far back on the curve of the road. She envied Frank. All he had to do when they arrived was to park the Airstream and go to bed.

She thought mournfully of the servers sitting in the basement rooms under the other house, then made a determined effort to shrug off the feeling. They would be able to get the rest of their stuff tomorrow, or in a few days, if nothing happened tonight. Even before unpacking, there would be a full protective push through the buildings, inside and out, to lay salt, paint the sigils and wardings over the entrances, windows, vents and cracks. Tomorrow, she and Garth could go through the house and buildings and install hex bags in the walls, and sometime this week, if Dean could find time, they could hire a small excavator and dig the zona magnetica, the mazes and bury steel rails to provide stronger external barriers.

The headlights lit up the access road turnoff and she held her breath as the baby turned inside her, pressing against her organs.

"What's wrong?" Dean's expression was tight in the reflection of the dashlights.

"Your son says his living quarters are getting too small," she grunted, straightening her spine and cradling her stomach.

"Uh…" Dean winced as the truck bounced over the potholes in the gravel road. "Sorry."

"It's okay, he's comfortable again," Ellie said, crossing her fingers out of Dean's sight. "Let's just get this over with?"

"You can go up to bed as soon as we're there?"

She shook her head. It was tempting but it would only double the load tomorrow—today, she amended, looking at her watch. "No, we'll get things in reasonable order tonight, then I can sleep in tomorrow."

The house appeared in the headlights and Dean pulled around the circular driveway, parking just past the entrance and jumping out to come around to her side. Behind them, each vehicle pulled in and stopped, interior lights and headlights left on.

Opening her door, Ellie eased herself out, taking Dean's offered hand. "Think we can be seen from space?" she asked.

He snorted and handed her the keys. "Little group like us? Naaaah."

Ellie walked up to the front door, leaving Dean to pick out some boxes from the truck bed. She opened the door and turned all the switches beside it, lighting up the portico, front garden and driveway, the wide hallway and the foyer beyond. Leaving the door open, she walked inside.

Cassie looked around in disbelief as she walked into the house with Talya. The floor coverings had been pulled up, boxes were piled chaotically in every room, the hunters were still moving from room to room, laying down protection, bags of salt, iron filings, and cans of spray paint in their hands.

Walking through the many ground floor rooms, she stopped as she came across Ellie, Garth and Frank. The room had probably a rumpus or family or sitting room, originally. Garth and Frank were setting up tables and lifting equipment onto them, while Ellie sorted through cables and devices and plugged the computers, monitors, keyboards, laptops, printers, modems, routers and storage apparatus back together.

"Anything I can do?" she asked.

Ellie looked up and smiled. "Are you settled in the cottage?"

The cottage was a three bedroom house with a wide deck overlooking a broad pond, not quite a five minute walk from the main house and still within what might be termed the garden area. Cassie had dumped her bag in the smallest bedroom and made up the bed. Talya had gone back to the main house to help the hunters with the protection.

"Yes, Talya said something about helping with protection?"

"Most of that's done. We're just trying to get organised now. If you're dying for sleep, there's no need to stay," Ellie said, blowing the loose strands of hair from her face as she knelt next to an array of machines.

"I'm okay," Cassie said. "I'll…um…check the kitchen."

She turned away, wondering at the other woman's energy.

In the kitchen, first light through the wide, multi-paned windows competed with the lighting. Cassie glanced at the clock as she stopped by the big table in the centre of the room. Just past six.

Trent and Katherine were chopping ingredients and cooking respectively, scrambled eggs filling one huge pan on the stove while bacon crisped beneath on the broiler and the smell of toast, coffee and pancakes filled the room. Cassie leaned in the doorway, looking around, wondering what she could do. Dean walked past her and stopped, looking back.

"There are twelve beds that need to be made upstairs. Linen's in the boxes in the rooms." He turned away and kept going down the hall.

Cassie sighed and turned from the kitchen, climbing the stairs to the upper storeys. It wasn't much of a job but it would give her something useful to burn off her nervous energy and maybe let her sleep later.

Sam lay back in the deep tub, legs bent, but otherwise fully covered by the steaming water. He shifted up slightly as Tricia came into the room, setting a pile of towels down on the straight-backed chair near the wall and smiling at him.

"Didn't take you long."

"Hey, the house has eight bathrooms."

"Good call then." She stripped off her clothes and climbed into the hot water in front of him, easing herself down as fast as her skin could cope with the temperature difference.

"You're not going to Kansas, Sam," she said quietly as she lay back against him.

"I've told you a bit about what's been done to me, to my family, Trish." He sighed. "I don't want to go, but I have to."

"Revenge is for suckers, Sam. Don't be a sucker."

"It's not for revenge," Much, he thought. "It's for justice. And for me. I can't let it go."

She half-turned, her shoulder against his chest, to look at him. "You can, but you won't."

"Then I won't. It doesn't matter." He shrugged. "I can feel it. I'm not going to get rid of the anger, of the rage until he's dead. Dead and beyond any possibility of resurrection."

"And if that's impossible? Do you give up on what you could have?"

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the sloping surface of the bath. "If it's impossible then—" He stopped and took a breath. "—then, I'll accept it and try for what I could have."

Tricia heard the hesitation. He had been going to say something else. He'd changed that because of her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what plan A was.

She turned over in the warm water, resting her elbows on the sides of the tub as she faced him.

"Don't throw away everything you've fought for, and what you have here, for a pipe dream about closure, Sam."

He looked away. "What makes you so sure it's a pipe dream?"

"Because everyone who ever said 'if this happens, I'll feel better', is kidding themselves. You want resolution? Go through your memories and your past. Killing Lucifer, or anyone for that matter, will not do it for you."

Anger stabbed through him and he pushed it down, away from her. "You seem pretty certain."

"I am certain. I saw my father kill hundreds of things in his quest to make sense of Mom's death, kill them brutally, without regret or remorse and not one of those deaths changed anything about Mom's or made it any more bearable." She touched his face gently. "I think you probably saw the same thing with your dad."

Sam looked at her. Silence filled the room and they were both completely still, the bath water surrounding them mirror smooth. The truth seeped into him. He'd hated his father for years for pursuing revenge at the cost of his family. Had hated the life, the secrecy, the otherness of it. Yet, when Jess had been murdered, he'd embraced all of it, and for the same reason as his father.

The anger that had filled him, rising and falling, an ocean of red; that wrath, that had driven him into actions he still couldn't look at head on and without bone-deep shame, he wasn't sure he could let go of it; wasn't sure if he could walk away from all that had happened, everything he'd tried and failed to be, to do, to achieve.

"You're right," he said, cupping her face in one hand. "It's an obsession and I don't think it will bring any resolution."

Her face was full of hope. That bit down in him more painfully than his realisations of futility. Could he really allow her to put hope in him? He remembered talking to Dean about that hope.

"A few months ago, it felt—I felt—as if that anger had gone. What had happened, what I'd been through, it honestly felt like I'd paid my dues. Come out the other side, and, uh, could look at the future again—a real future—without feeling driven."

Then Lucifer had emerged and it'd all gone to hell again.

"Then that changed. I don't know why. I don't even know how." That was a lie, he thought, closing his eyes. He hadn't wanted to ever lie to her, but he couldn't face talking about Lucifer and the torment now.

"The peace I felt, that's gone." That was true. He suspected that his peace had been delusional to begin with. "The anger is back. I don't know that I can give it up, Trish."

He tipped his head back, resting on the edge of the tub. "I don't think I can let it go."

"You will, in time." She picked up the soap, lathering it in her hands. "Knowing that those feelings are not going to solve anything? Knowing your rationalisations? That's what stops obsession."

Her hands, slippery with soap, smoothed over his chest and shoulders, stroked his neck. Maybe she was right. He'd never had a chance to just sit with this stuff for a while. It had been buried under more and more grief, and anger and doubt and fear over the years, as he and Dean had lost more people, been forced into more choices that had hardly been choices at all.

Perhaps with some time to himself, he might be able to find some answers.

Cassie sat near the end of the long oak table, eating as she watched and listened to the talk surrounding her. Dinner that evening was a surprisingly delicious chicken casserole, cooked by Garth, Twist and Katherine, served with freshly baked sourdough bread. The simple, nourishing food provided comfort she hadn't expected or thought she'd needed.

At the other end of the table that seated twelve, Dean and Ellie were talking to Frank, a creepy hacker type, their voices low and their expressions worried. She didn't really want to know what they were talking about. Beside Frank, was Katherine, the hunter that the monster had copied, still looking pale as she ate slowly, listening to the conversation of the man beside her…was his name Trent? He was in his fifties, hard and lean and grizzled-looking, his expression gentle now as he listened to Katherine's response.

Garth, skinny and rather weedy looking sat next to them. She couldn't imagine him shooting or hacking up anything. He didn't seem…determined…or hard…enough to be with these people whose expressions rarely lit up in smiles.

Talya sat opposite Garth. The nephilim was another surprise. Tall and slender, deceptively so, since Cassie estimated her height at six foot one at least, with long, dark red hair and wide sky-blue eyes, she gave the appearance of being shy, until she spoke. A scholar, Cassie decided, more interested in the past than the present. She'd given her research with Ellie as the reason she hadn't gone with the others to assist Heaven's Host in Kansas.

Next to Talya, sat Twist and Dean and Sam's half-brother, Adam Winchester. She hadn't been able to get a handle on him at all. His eyes were a pale blue-green, nothing like the deep green of Dean's, or the warm hazel of Sam's. He had the same high cheekbones, and the same broad shoulders and narrow hips as his brothers, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Adam watched a lot, she noticed, and said very little.

Sam and his…girlfriend? Lover? Cassie wasn't sure which it was or if it was both, sat next to Adam. Sam had changed enormously from the gentle-faced young man she'd met in Missouri. He was harder now, she thought, and sadder. Tricia, also around six foot tall, seemed a good match for him, her easy-going nature making him smile often.

They were hunters and they didn't look as she'd imagined them to be. Not that she'd had much to go on, with only Dean and Sam as her reference points.

Collectively they seemed…scarred, she thought. Perhaps because they had all lost friends and family to the life that they refused to give up. Maybe because they had spent years dealing with the monsters that society didn't know about…monsters like the thing that had come into house, looking like a person, looking like a friend, and turning into a nightmare. She shuddered slightly. She would need sleeping pills to get through the nights without revisiting that memory. She wasn't sure how Ellie could cope with that thing being right next to her, touching her. Monsters…and now demons and angels they were talking about.

Everything she'd thought was a made-up fairytale for people with too little ambition and too much time on their hands. All real. She looked down at her plate, picking up a thick slice of the sourdough and mopping up the remaining sauce with it. It would make a hell of a story, except that no newspaper or network would ever touch it because it was too unbelievable.

"Sam," she said, turning to him as a thought occurred to her, "when you say Hell is rising, what does that mean, exactly?"

Sam looked at her, his fork suspended above his plate. "Good question."

He turned to look down the table at Ellie and his brother. "Ellie, this war…in Kansas…is it being fought on this plane, or one that Heaven or Hell exists in?"

Cassie watched in surprise as Ellie got up from the table, walking through the broad archway between dining and living rooms and to the television set that had been set up there. She picked up the remote and turned it on, turning up the volume as she backed up to an armchair and eased herself down.

The large set's picture was crystal clear, the news anchor of a special news broadcast in the centre of the screen. Dean got up from the dining table and followed her to the living room, dropping into a crouch beside her chair.

"—we aren't getting any pictures or footage at all from the area, but the military has been alerted and have mobilised from every state surrounding Kansas—"

Ellie flicked to another channel.

"—reports of fires, looting, vandalism have not been exaggerated; it's very difficult to see what's happening in any of the counties now as a pall of black smoke covers the countryside—"

And another.

"—we are with General Atkins on the Jewell County/Nebraska state line. General Atkins, can you describe what we're seeing here—or rather not seeing here." The reporter gestured and the camera panned around to what might have a pleasant rural landscape if it hadn't been mostly obscured by smoke. "Do you have satellite images showing what it's like beyond the smoke?" The General's face was stony. "No comment, gentlemen. We'll be moving in at 0300 hours and this mess will be squared away." He turned abruptly and walked away and the reporter turned back to the camera with an uncertain smile, "And I guess we'll just have to wait until the situation is indeed, squared away—"

And another.

"—so you're telling me that there is no surveillance possible from either space or ground level, and one Lockheed has disappeared somewhere over the state—"

Ellie looked around, her gaze travelling around the table before stopping on Sam. "I'd say it's taking place on this plane."

"Jesus." Twist got up from the dining table and walked to stand beside her chair, staring at the screen.

The dining room emptied as the hunters gathered around the television, the news reports going on. Nothing was visible beyond the state lines, black and grey smoke obscuring even the street signs in the towns that crossed the borders.

Cassie stood between them, wondering what the hell she was seeing. "They can't get any signals in or out of Kansas? What does that mean?"

"It means that Heaven and Hell have control of the state." Ellie said. "It means no one will be able to see in until one or the other wins. And it won't be confined to Kansas, that's just where it's starting."

Night hung heavy, the sky overcast and star-less. The place was silent, not even the rustles of nocturnal creatures this close to dawn, and no wind to stir the conifers and bare branches. Sam looked at his brother as they walked the perimeter.

"What's the story with Cassie, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"You told me nearly everything. But not quite."

His brother gave him a humourless smile in response. "When I saw what she'd done, in Charlotte, I panicked. Called her and told her to get to Portland, didn't think about anyone tracking her here. It didn't occur to me how that might look, but Ellie…"

"Ellie looked at the results and thought you were panicking for a different reason?"

"Yeah. More or less." Dean sighed. "Cassie didn't help when she got here. She, uh…"

Sam's eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother's face. "Thought she could pick up where you left off?"

"I guess."

"She didn't notice the ring?" Sam waved a hand toward his brother's left hand.

"She did, I think she just thought it was worth a shot." He shrugged. "I straightened her out, but it made things harder than they needed to be."

Sam snorted. "Understatement, dude."

"Yeah."

"Ellie alright?"

Dean looked sideways at him. "Yeah. Now. How'd you know—?"

"If she thought you still had feelings for Cassie…" Sam shrugged. "…it must have worried her, that you might…you know."

Dean stopped walking, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Yeah. It did worry her."

"Sorry, man, it's just…women think about that stuff, you have to know that."

"I didn't. That never occurred to me." Dean looked at him. "I don't think she's ever going to forget that, Sam."

"No," Sam agreed. "She won't forget it. She's forgiven it. And the trust will come back."

"How do you know?"

"Because she loves you," Sam said.

Dean nodded, his expression doubtful. He started walking again, his gaze ranging over the shadows under the trees. Sam followed more slowly. Neither of them had ever really understood the processes of love. Dean had doubted it for himself for most of his life.

"What about you?" Dean asked, when they reached the forest and turned to follow the treeline.

"I'm not going." Sam caught up to his older brother.

"Good."

"You don't seem all that surprised." Sam looked at the sky, noting the fading blackness where the mountains reared up in the east.

Dean shrugged. "If Trish hadn't been able to convince you, then the broadcasts should have."

"Yeah." Sam stopped, staring up the sky as he ran a hand impatiently through his hair. "People are dying down there, Dean."

"I know." Dean shook his head. "And if I had a magic demon machine gun, I'd be down there, wiping them out. But I don't. And this time, I think that we have to leave it to Michael and the dicks to do their job."

"Do you think they'll succeed?" Sam turned to look at him. Leaving it up to Heaven had never been a game Dean had wanted to play.

"I don't know, man," his brother said, his voice low. "I guess we're back to praying again."

Ellie woke as Dean closed the bedroom door quietly. She heard the clunk of his boots dropping to the floor, then the rustle as he stripped his clothes off, listening as he padded barefoot to the bed and eased himself in, under the covers. His skin was warm and she rolled over, giving him room to spoon against her back.

"Any sign of trouble?" she murmured sleepily.

"No. It's all quiet out there." His arm curled around her. "I was trying not to wake you."

"Normal sleeping habits are back." She stretched and looked over her shoulder. "Seems like the sleeping like the dead thing is only the first three months."

"Sam's not going to Kansas."

"Good."

She felt his cheek lift against her shoulder as he smiled in response. "You talk to Trish about it?"

"Didn't say a word. She's very intuitive about people."

"What about Kansas?"

"What about it?"

The tension was clear in his voice, and she knew he wanted to hear that things weren't as bad as they seemed. She couldn't tell him that.

"Do you think…are people dying there?"

"Yeah, they are." She made her voice hard and cold. This wasn't the time for reassurances or platitudes. War between the angels and demons could easily extend and expand to wipe out a good percentage of humanity, if not directly then indirectly, through the loss of society and civilisation. She didn't want there to be any doubt of how bad it was going to get.

"A gate was opened and the Princes rose and possibly a hundred thousand demons have had absolute free rein there. Maybe more. The Host is fighting them, but…those fires…the numbers of demons that could have come out in the first rush…the death toll will be very high."

"Is there anything we can do?" Dean asked, his voice strained.

"We can find the ritual. Make sure Lucifer cannot regain his powers." She turned a bit more, to see his face. "Because if he does, then the Host won't be strong enough, not after what Cas did last year, and every massacre will open more gates, all over the country, and all over the world."

She listened to him breathing for a moment, trying to find the words for the things she'd discovered. "Pen found something; a—I don't know what to call it exactly—a paradigm maybe? To do with destiny. If something that was supposed to happen doesn't—if that line is broken—then everything switches to a new line, and there's another event horizon with another set of events leading to the same ending."

"What?" He shifted, rising to lean on his elbow. "So we stopped the Apocalypse, but that made this happen?"

"In effect, yes."

Dean shook his head slowly. The house always won. Always. "And if this gets stopped, there'll be another thing?"

"I don't know. I don't think every single aspect is designed to keep falling over. It may be in our situation, the thing that was supposed to happen was that Lucifer was supposed to die. He didn't, and now he could be resurrected with a soul, which would put us on a different path entirely. Or, he will be killed and that will be the final end of this line and things will return to balance." Ellie looked up at him, her expression rueful. "I'm just not sure."

He pulled her close. "I take it we won't find that out until it's gone one way or the other?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

"This is so far above my pay grade that I don't even know what to think about it." Not that it'd ever been different but it felt more like persecution now.

She smiled. "I don't think we have much say in how this gets played out. The dominant pieces on this chessboard are going to be the Princes and the angels."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Somehow, he didn't feel that. He'd been dragged into and through enough of the games between Heaven and Hell it seemed likely he'd be able to sit this out. He began to feel her premonitions, the uneasiness of being caught in a web so big he couldn't even see the edges. He tightened his hold on the woman in his arms.