Ruby ditched the shrink in a downtown alley and hurried back to the motel. She thought Sam trusted her enough that Allison wouldn't be able to tell him anything he would believe. Even so, every minute she was absent was a risk she hated taking. She only agreed to Sam's plan because of how important it was to him that they save this girl. The last thing she needed right now was to disenfranchise him.

She slid in smoke form under the motel door and took her rightful place back inside her host. She took a deep breath, ransacking Allison's memories as she settled back into her familiar vessel. She smiled as she saw Allison's thoughts, felt her hopelessness. Sure, she'd had the opportunity to tell Sam anything she wanted, but she knew he wouldn't listen. So she'd held her silence.

Cat get your tongue, Ally? Ruby taunted.

Allison gave no reply.

"That went well," Ruby commented while Sam untied her. "But I'm not looking forward to carving myself up for another binding link. Don't ask me to do this again."

"Yeah," Sam replied flatly.

Ruby knew that tone. Something was bugging Sam. With a frown, she searched Allison's memories one more time to make sure she hadn't missed something.

Why is he moody? she demanded, doing the mental equivalent of shaking Allison.

Hell if I know! Allison shot back grouchily, slinking as far away from the demon as she could get in the confines of her own skull. What do I look like, a jammed gumball machine? Take your problems with Sam out on him.

That was the last thing Ruby could do, but she didn't feel like screwing with Allison anymore either.

"You ok?" she asked him instead.

"Let's find out," he said shortly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He seemed tense, like he was waiting for something. Ruby noticed that something was missing from the picture.

"Where's the kid?" she asked, looking around the room. "Don't tell me I went to all that trouble just so you could lose her!"

"Relax, she's cleaning up," Sam assured her, nodding toward the bathroom.

"How do you know she's cleaning up and not sneaking out the window?" Ruby demanded.

"She's not going anywhere."

"Right."

Sam picked up a notepad off the bed. Ruby recognized it as the one Anna had clutched during her rescue.

"So, what's she been hearing?" Ruby asked out of genuine curiosity.

"A lot of it sounds like nonsense, but some of it... well, I want to hear what she has to say about it," Sam said. He snapped the notebook shut and fixed Ruby with a long, scrutinous look that made her feel uncomfortable. Never the less, she returned his gaze unflinching. She didn't know what he was looking for, but she refused to let him see it.

Finally, he spoke.

"Ruby, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Alarm bells went off in the demon's head. She struggled to keep her cool.

"Like...?"

"Anything you've been keeping from me."

"I don't keep anything from you, Sam," Ruby lied. "Not on purpose anyway. So if you've got something you want to ask me, do it and quit beating around the bush."

Sam's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Ruby could tell he was conflicted. His giant hazel eyes were like tomes of ancient script, overflowing with meaning for anyone with the knowledge to read them. Whatever was weighing on him, whatever he wanted to ask her, he was afraid of the answer. Whatever he suspected her of, he hoped it wasn't true.

Ruby swallowed hard, knowing something bad was coming and hoping that Sam's desire to believe she was his friend would save her from whatever it was.

Anna emerged from the bathroom a minute later with freshly washed hair, significantly calmer than when Ruby had last seen her. Ruby narrowed her eyes at the child when she passed, struggling to keep the animosity off her face. Whatever problems she was about to have to deal with, she had the feeling that Anna was their cause. Anna met her eyes for the briefest of moments, but gasped in fear and looked away, shrinking back against the wall instinctively.

"You-you're back," she stuttered unhappily.

"Relax kid, I'm one of the good guys," Ruby assured her. "I rescued you, right? Don't I get any credit for that?"

Ruby looked to Sam, waiting for him to speak up on her behalf, but she waited in vain. He launched right into his questioning.

"So, Anna, tell me more about the first thing you heard," he said. His tone was gentle, but there was an edge of poorly masked impatience in his words.

"Well... Like I said, it was that name," Anna told them. "I heard someone say 'Dean Winchester is saved'."

Shit.

Suddenly, Ruby realized why Sam was giving her such stinkeye. Why he was moody, why he was asking her if she was keeping things from him. This was a big problem. This kid knew Dean was back and now, Ruby doubted she would be able to keep Sam from learning that it was true. Her mind raced, ideas and schemes flashing through her brain at a hundred miles an hour as she considered the possible ways to run damage control on this situation.

You are so screwed! Allison laughed maniacally in the back of her mind.

"Dean Winchester is saved," Ruby repeated. She met Sam's eyes, struggling to hide her panic. "That's all?"

"Well, no... after that it was... really loud, for a while," Anna explained haltingly. "I mean... I was just hearing so many voices, all the time. It was like someone turned on a radio and it started playing every channel all at once. At first, I tried to hide it, but... I mean, I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't sleep... people started to notice. I knew they were going to say I was crazy once I told them what was going on, but I couldn't take it anymore! I wanted help... I thought..."

"You thought they could help you at the hospital," Sam provided. Anna nodded. "But they couldn't," he guessed.

"No. They medicated me, but it didn't do anything," Anna sighed. "The voices slowed down on their own. Now I don't hear as many at one time. Sometimes I'll go a few minutes at a time without hearing any."

"You said they talk about Dean a lot," Sam pressed. "Do you remember what else they said?"

"Not really... I tried hard to ignore them before Dr. Pinsky had me take notes," Anna said. "Why do you care so much?"

"My name is Sam Winchester," he informed her. "Dean is my brother. For the last three months, I've been... looking for him."

"Sam," Ruby cut in, deciding on a course of action. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

It won't work. He doesn't trust you like he did yesterday, Allison taunted her. Your plan is going to hell. So will you, soon.

Ruby wanted to tell Allison to shut her trap, but she needed to focus on Sam. She lead him out onto the sidewalk, closing the door so Anna could neither see nor hear them.

"Did you know?!" Sam demanded, keeping his voice low. Even so, it was saturated with fury. "Did know you Dean was out of hell?!"

"Sam-"

"Don't lie to me, Ruby! Don't you dare lie to me!"

"Calm down!" Ruby yelled, backing away from him with a scowl. "You're jumping to the conclusion that what she's hearing is true! This stinks like a trap, Sam!"

"Set by who?!" he demanded.

"Lilith! It explains why she's got a big shot like Alastair in town!"

Sam hesitated and Ruby seized the foothold desperately.

"Think about it, Anna's dead parents are the whole reason we're here! Alastair used them to lure us here and he's using her to get you right where he wants you!" she hissed. "Lilith knows you're getting more powerful, she knows you're almost to the point where you could be a threat to her... Alastair's here to kill you before you get any stronger!"

Damn. I gotta admit, you're good, Allison sighed mournfully.

Sam looked torn. He wanted to believe Ruby's explanation, she could see it in his eyes. With a sinking feeling, she realized she could also see his doubt. His apprehension. His trust in her had been shaken and she was forced to face the reality that this time, she might not be able to win it back.

"If that's true then we need to get out of town," Sam reasoned, calming quickly as he considered Ruby's 'theory'. "We'll take Anna with us. If she hears anything else about Dean, we'll follow up on it."

"And if it leads us right into Alastair's trap?" Ruby demanded.

"I thought you said I was strong enough to handle him," Sam pointed out.

"I said you were almost strong enough to handle him," Ruby retorted. "Not strong enough that I'm willing to throw you into the meat grinder and see if you come out with all your limbs still attached."

She sighed heavily, trying hard to plan ahead, doing her damnedest to plot out all the possible ways this mess could play out and most importantly, how she could mitigate the risk of losing Sam this late in the game.

She'd always had her work cut out for her. The corruption of Sam Winchester was never going to be an easy task and she'd known that from day one. But suddenly, all her work was in jeopardy of being totally undone and she herself was in mortal danger.

If Sam discovered her deception there was no way he would let her live.

Kaydie woke up with aching ribs, sore muscles and a splitting headache. All courtesy of Dean Winchester if her hazy recollections of her possession were to be trusted.

"Worst assignment ever," she grumbled as she struggled to come back to her senses fully. Like everyone else in her family, she was trained to resist possession. Unfortunately, Alice was family, no matter how detached from the Smith clan at large. She had a lot of the same training as Kaydie and the surprise of her ghost bursting out of Dean's mystery hunter gave her just enough of an edge to dominate Kaydie's will.

This was the second beating Kaydie had taken because of Alice. She was really starting to hate her cousin.

She sat up with a grimace and took in her surroundings. She was in a bed in an unfamiliar room. The walls were decorated with faded floral wallpaper and the generous coating of dust on the dresser informed her that this room wasn't frequently used. She glanced out the window, surveying a sizable lot full of scrap cars. Wondering where she was, she reached into her pocket for her phone, only to find the screen smashed.

"Damn it!" she cursed, stuffing the useless device back into her pocket. She ventured from the room, questions flooding her mind like a tsunami. How had she gotten here, why was she here, where was here, where was Alice? Where was Dean? Castiel? She pushed them aside, instead focusing on the present. She wasn't used to knowing so little and it set her on edge, but she knew that answers would present themselves soon. All she had to do was rise to meet them.

She made her way downstairs, following the sound of male voices. They lead her through a sitting room overrun with books and junk, to the threshold of a small kitchen, dimly lit against the gloom of impending nightfall. She approached stealthily, hiding her presence for the time being. She stopped at the door jamb and listened to the conversation. One voice she recognized as Dean's.

"I don't know what to do, Bobby," he sighed. "All I know is, I have to find Sam. I'm pretty sure Alice's next move is to hunt him down and I can't let her get to him first."

"Yeah, except we still don't even know where to start looking for Sam," a man she assumed was Bobby replied. "I know you don't want to hear this Dean, but you've got to do something about Alice before she does any real damage."

Kaydie rolled her eyes, expecting Dean to defend Alice. She had been only semi-lucid during her possession, but she was aware enough to know that Alice had gotten away from Dean by exploiting the romantic nature of their past relationship. Kaydie shuddered a little, revulsion and violation sweeping through her as she remembered the kiss. She was furious about having been used as a vehicle, shoved into the figurative trunk of her own body. She tried to tell herself that she didn't have time to dwell on what had happened, that she needed to stay present and sharp, but she couldn't help her simmering rage. Next time she met her cousin, she promised herself, she would end her.

"You're right," Dean agreed, surprising Kaydie. Had he finally admitted to himself just how dangerous, unpredictable and unhinged Alice really was? "But what do you want me to do, Bobby? She's already dead, so killing her is off the table."

"I hate to be the only one stating the obvious, but have you geniuses considered burning her bones?" a third voice put in.

"Does this look like a roomful of amateurs? I suggested that the first time she went postal," Bobby said. "No one knows where she's buried."

"Not true. I know."

Silence in the kitchen. Kaydie's interest was piqued. Caution begged her to stay hidden until she knew more, but at this point she assumed that Dean had brought her back with him out of good intentions. Still, she hung back, forcing herself to be content with listening for now.

"How?" Dean demanded.

"Like I said, I helped her with a case back in the day," the man explained. "Must have been '97, '98... she needed help on a demon hunt and I had reputation as the best demon hunter in the states. Still do, by the way. Unfortunately for Smith, things didn't go as planned. She didn't make it out alive."

"And you didn't salt and burn her?" Bobby demanded. "That doesn't sound like you, Rufus."

"Local police got to her body before I could. I didn't think it was worth going to all the trouble of breaking into the county morgue to give a hunter's send off to some girl I hardly knew."

"Figures," Bobby scoffed. "The one time you bend your rules, it comes back to bite you."

"Bite me? Excuse you, I don't have any part of this bull," Rufus exclaimed. "You called me in to help you save this muttonhead from the trap he walked into. He got out of the trap just fine on his own. I'm hitting the road as soon as I get that bottle of Johnny Walker you promised me. Which better be soon by the way."

"It's in the pantry," Bobby grumbled. "Top shelf. I almost forgot how much of a grumpy son of a bitch you are."

"Yeah, you forget things like that when you call once every six months and stay on the line for five minutes max," Rufus replied. "Here. This is all the info you'll need to find her body."

"This is just a town, the name of a motel and... 'July-September'?"

"That's where and when she was killed. My advice is to go in passing yourself off as family claiming her body. She was going by the name Miller back then."

"No first name? And can't you at least narrow this down to the month for us?" Dean asked.

"Boy, this went down over ten years ago, you're lucky I remember as much as I do," Rufus told him. "Good-bye and good luck. Bobby."

"Thanks for hauling ass out here, Rufus," Bobby said in parting. "I appreciate it."

"I appreciate your appreciation, but you still owe me one."

"Get the hell outta my house, you old coot," Bobby grumbled. Despite the harshness of the words, his tone was fond and carried a playful edge.

"This dusty scrap heap? I can't show myself the door fast enough," Rufus shot back humorously. "I just pray I don't get tetanus on my way out."

Kaydie heard the door creak open and snap shut. For the first time, she peeked around the door frame to see Dean and Bobby seated at a small kitchen table. Dean frowned down at a small note.

"Well that's an unbelievable stroke of good luck, there," Bobby said, tipping his beer toward the note.

"Sure," Dean said half-heartedly, tucking the note into his shirt pocket. "I don't have a choice anymore, do I Bobby?"

"She didn't leave you with one."

"This is just all so screwed up. You know, even after I take care of Alice, hell's not going to stop coming after me."

"Not likely."

"When does it end, Bobby? Is this my life now? Always looking over my shoulder, always running?"

"Since when was that ever not your life?" Bobby asked. "That's just the job, Dean. That's life for people like us. All we can do is keep running, keep fighting."

Kaydie frowned at the bleak portrait they were painting. She was familiar with the nomadic lifestyle most hunters lead, hopping from town to town, case to case. It was something she'd never had to do. Her entire life had been spent at home, with family who watched her back. It was still dangerous; hunting always was, no two ways about it, but it was nothing compared to what hunters like Bobby and Dean had to go through.

"I mean, hell, why do you think your Dad and me went so many years without speaking? I hate that he brought you and Sam up in this life. But what are you gonna do about it now?"

He settled back in his chair with a sigh, nursing his beer with regret written all over his features.

"Eventually, something gets us all. I hate to be a Debby downer, Dean, but eventually, something'll get you too... whether it's hell or the next thing."

Kaydie could stand it no longer. The atmosphere in the kitchen was starting to feel tense and heavy, like the mood at a wake.

"Well I hate to be a contrary Mary," she said, stepping into the room and catching their attention for the first time, "But I know plenty of hunters don't get gotten. No offense, but if your life expectancy is really that bad, I think you're probably doing the job wrong."

"Are all Smiths this condescending?" Bobby asked. "I thought it was just Alice, but you're even worse than she is."

"Bobby, Kaydie Smith, Kaydie, Bobby Singer," Dean introduced them briskly.

"Just bringing facts to the table," Kaydie told Bobby before turning her full attention on Dean. "So, when are you leaving?"

"Excuse me?"

"I heard enough to know you're going after Alice's body. I want in."

Kaydie's voice betrayed her intense animosity.

"Thanks but no thanks," Dean scowled. "I can handle this on my own."

"Don't be stupid, Dean," Kaydie scolded him. "If Alice catches wind of your plan-"

"I can handle Alice."

"Can you? 'Cause it kinda seemed like she handed you your ass back there."

"Yeah, well your face begs to differ," Dean shot back, crossing his arms over his chest obstinately. Kaydie hadn't seen herself but if her appearance matched the way she felt, she couldn't be all that pretty at the moment.

"Thanks for that by the way."

Kaydie took a deep breath, working hard to bury her anger. This was what her Grandmother had always warned her about, her temper getting in the way of her work. Disturbingly, she was also forced to compare herself to Alice. Another impulsive hot-head. Maybe Bobby was right about it running in the family, but Kaydie suddenly found herself with a new motive to keep her quick temper in check. The last thing she wanted was to be anything like Alice. Alice Smith was a dick.

"Look," she sighed, leaning against the wall and sticking her hands into her pockets. "It's your call, ok? But I'm not going anywhere. It's still my job to keep an eye on you. If you want me to hang back, fine. You won't even know I'm here. But it just seems like you could get this done faster with a little help."

"Yeah, about that," Dean growled. "How long are you creeps planning to tail me anyway?"

Kaydie shrugged.

"Beats me. I'm just following orders. Trust me, the minute I get the word, I'm off your ass faster than you can say 'good riddance'."

She remembered her angelic companion and frowned.

"Speaking of creeps, I don't suppose you've seen a guy in a trench coat? Yea high, blank gaze."

"What?"

"I'll take that as a no. How about my car?"

"After the fight I grabbed you and hauled ass," Dean said. "Excuse me if I didn't stop to look for your car and company."

"I don't suppose you'll give me a ride back out there to get it, huh?"

"And make it that much easier for you to stalk me?"

"Need I remind you that me stalking you was the only reason you're not still cuffed to that sink watching that psycho carve up your 'brother'?"

"You two are giving me a headache," Bobby complained, finishing his beer and tossing the bottle into the wastebasket. "Look, there's a bus stop less than a mile down the road. If I were you, I'd get a move on, 'cause leaving a car sitting downtown is a good way to get it broken into."

"You don't like house guests, huh?" Kaydie guessed, remembering his quick ejection of Rufus.

"House guests I don't mind. Rude house guests are another matter," Bobby said.

She wanted to snap at him, but managed to keep her cool.

"My bad," she said instead. "I guess we got off on the wrong foot this time. Maybe next time I'll be able to fix the impression."

Truth be told, she hoped there wouldn't be a next time. She wanted to see Alice's bones burned, but she hoped that soon after that, Greta would tell her she could leave Dean to his own devices.

"I'll be close if you change your mind," she told Dean on her way out. She needed to get to her car in case Bobby was right and someone took it upon themselves to smash her window in. She also needed to find a phone and get her Grandmother up to date.

Outside, she caught sight of Castiel lurking in the yard, watching the house. He didn't spare her a glance, though he must have known she was there, must have known she was looking right at him. Heck, taking his nature into account, Kaydie had to assume he knew she could use a lift. She wasn't bothered by the fact that he was, it would seem, willfully ignoring her. She had questions for him, but they could wait.

Assuming he kept watching Dean, their paths would cross again soon enough.

Alice walked into a tavern wearing Vera's tattered remains. She drew quite a few stares but ignored them. It was to be expected. She was a stranger in this small town and she looked like she'd been through hell. For all intents and purposes, she had. Her poor host had taken quite a beating. Vera's body was riddled with bullet holes that slowly leaked blood. Alice ignored it, but it left a spattered trail behind her that caught the attention of the other patrons. She took a seat at the bar in the midst of a tense, confused, horrified silence that begged to be broken.

"Tequila," she requested. "Sierra Silver if you've got it."

Tucked safely inside the skin of another faceless dead innocent, Alice didn't need Sierra's strength to wash down reality's bitter aftertaste, but she'd grown fond of the stuff during her time as a shapeshifter.

"You sure you wouldn't rather I called you an ambulance?" the bartender asked with a frown.

Alice smiled. She couldn't help feeling amused and a little delighted at the woman's concern and the discomfort her presence here was causing.

"Nah, I'm good," she assured her. "I just need a good strong drink before I meet with the devil."

Granted, Crowley wasn't the devil. But she was sure he would be back to crawl up her ass some more after her recent failure. She knew he was watching. She knew he'd seen what had happened.

"Tell you what. You sit tight. I'll pour you a drink and have someone come out and take a look at you," the bartender told her.

"Waste of someone's time, but whatever makes you feel better," Alice said. She stopped the woman from pouring a shot. "You mind just handing me the bottle? Unless you feel like wasting your time pouring endless shots for me while someone else wastes their time rushing over here to treat a corpse."

Seriously spooked, the bartender left the bottle and hurried off to make her call. Unbothered, Alice took a long swig. Clear, acrid, not as strong as she'd grown accustomed to, but it would do the trick. She was wasting time as well. What else could she do? She knew Crowley was coming for her. She knew better than to think she could hide from him. All she could do was wait and drink.

"You know, it's unprofessional to drink on the job. I thought you were all about professionalism."

And just like that, her time was up. But rather than Crowley's thick accent, she heard another familiar voice at her side.

"Parsifal," she greeted him. She hated calling him that, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was antagonize him. Despite being more comfortable with her old acquaintance, Alice got the feeling that his appearance was worse news for her than if Crowley had shown up as expected. "Back topside that fast?"

"No one with any clout sticks around in that stinking cesspool longer than they have to," Parsifal explained. He gestured to the bottle she was nursing. "So, you wanna tell me what this is?"

"When life gives you lemons, drink 'til you get the taste out of your mouth," she replied.

"Right. And the lemons in your case are...?"

She was already pissed and him playing with her didn't help. The temperature in the bar dropped noticeably and frost crept up the side of her drink. Even so, she managed to stop herself from mouthing off at him. She had no doubt that he knew damn well what had transpired, but she decided to humor him.

"Too many lemons to count," she sighed. He was probably getting off on making her recount her failures to him. "I'm out of ideas. Dean's not going to hand his soul back over. Not now that he knows what that means."

She tipped her drink toward the door in a gesture of respect for the man in his absence.

"Are sure you're really out of ideas, or just too attached to him to get creative?" Parsifal pressed.

Attached. What a choice of words. Alice narrowed her eyes at the demon. Part of her wanted to keep playing politic in case she could buy herself some mercy. Most of her was full of rage and defiance and the effects of the tequila.

"I'm attached to shiny things and sharp objects," she said. "Dean Winchester is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. And you want me to sell him out to save my own skin."

"No, you want to sell him out to save your own skin," Parsifal corrected her with a sadistic grin. "All we did was make you the offer, Alice. You're the one who took us up on it."

"Taking you up on it isn't the same as liking it."

"You don't need to like it. It's a job. All you need to do is get it done. Capiche?"

I'm working on it.

That was the smart thing to say. That was what Alice should have said.

"Capiche this, you black-eyed bastard!" she said instead. She smashed the tequila bottle over his head in an irrational fit of rage. He sat stone still, seemingly unaffected by the broken glass and alcohol decorating his hair. For the second time, everyone in the establishment stopped, staring with a range of adverse reactions to the scene unfolding before them.

Alice immediately cursed her impulsiveness. Her second thought was something along the lines of 'fuck it'.

"Bartender? I need another bottle if you've got it," she called. "And this guy's paying."

"Look, I get it," Parsifal told her. "You're angry. Who wouldn't be in your shoes?"

"Shut up, Percy," Alice snarled, emboldened by the fact that he hadn't dragged her back to hell just yet.

He held up two fingers.

"That was strike two," he told her calmly. "That's two more than most people get. The only reason you're still on that stool is for old time's sake."

Alice wasn't relieved by his leniency. He was wrong if he thought all it would take to get her back on task was a demonic pep talk sprinkled with a few gory threats. She'd taken her best shot at getting Dean to sign his soul away. If he wouldn't do it again for his brother, he wouldn't do it for the world. There was nothing she could do to change that. Inevitably, she was going to end up back in hell. At this point, it was only a question of how and for once, Alice didn't feel like stalling. She figured she only had a few hundred more years before she turned demon, a thousand at most. After that, she could bide her time until she made it topside.

"Now-"

Boldly, Alice interrupted Parsifal with a back handed slap. Usually, she was the punching type, but she wasn't interested in breaking her fist on his pretty lawyer face.

"Fuck you, Perse!" she snarled. "Fuck hell, fuck it all! Drag me back, see if I care! I'm done playing this stupid game of yours. You want Dean so bad? Do your own dirty work. Good luck to you... Dean might not be the best hunter I've ever met, but he's more than capable of taking care of you and whatever else hell throws at him!"

Parsifal brought his hand up to wipe a streak of blood from his nose. He examined it serenely while Alice held her breath, waiting for him to make his move. It seemed like it took him forever to meet her eyes. The anger that was absent from his face was distilled in his dark eyes which flooded with pitch while she watched. He waved his hand sharply and she felt like she'd been hit by a train. She flew from the bar stool, hit the ground hard and slid nearly all the way to the door as the room filled with gasps and shrieks.

Parsifal stood, plucking a napkin from the bar as he sauntered over to Alice's prone form. She struggled to rise, but he was standing over her before she could get to her feet. He seized and handful of her hair and helped her onto her knees as the few other bar goers made for the back exit.

"Smith," he said, tone level. If she was going to use a name he hated, he was going to repay the favor in kind. "What are you doing?"

Before she could answer, he let her know it was a rhetorical question by punching her in the throat hard enough to collapse her windpipe. Had she been alive, it would have been a death blow. Dead as she was, it was still incredibly unpleasant.

"This is a nice gesture, but what do you think it's going to accomplish?"

He twisted his hand in her hair, drawing a broken, gurgling whine from her mangled throat.

"There's no redemption for you," he reminded her. "You are what you are and that's all you're ever going to be. You're a murderer."

He released her hair and kicked her in the gut hard enough to send her flying into a table.

"You're a liar. You're a thief!"

He approached her as she lay dazed amid broken chairs, numbly regretting her decision to burn this bridge. Then again, it was one of a dozen crappy choices. All of them would eventually lead to her getting her ass kicked and tortured for a few more centuries.

"You're a disappointment to everyone who ever made the mistake of believing you had any good in you!" he went on, hauling her to her feet by her throat and then higher. She looked down at his mocking face, trying to remember what it felt like to be in more pain than this. The funny thing about pain was that while you were in it, it didn't matter how much worse you'd felt before. In the moment, it was always worse than ever.

"No one's going to miss you! No one's going to mourn you! Oh, and you know what else?"

He grinned in her face, close enough that she could smell his breath. It was minty and not unpleasant.

"You can forget about ever getting promoted. I'll make sure you rot on the rack until kingdom come and a little while after that too."

Those words broke Alice. She'd felt despair before, been mad out of her mind before, but never like this. She screamed at him and through her broken host the sound was inhuman and piercing. Cold wind swirled angrily through the room, disturbing Parsifal's suit jacket and slick hair and sending chairs flying everywhere. Bottles and glasses leapt from the shelves behind the bar and one by one the lights in the tavern went out as the bulbs burst overhead with small showers of sparks and splintered glass. It was a full on ghostly temper tantrum of the most epic proportions, but it wasn't enough to so much as faze Parsifal.

"Cute," he commented with a smile. "Time to go, Smith. You ready?"

Parsifal snapped his fingers, ending Alice's outburst as swiftly as it had begun.

This was it, she realized with all-consuming dread. He was going to take her to hell and she was going to stay there forever this time. No one was going to save her, no one was going to 'promote' her. All she had to look forward to was doom and gloom and never ending torment.

The door to the tavern opened and a man entered, interrupting the moment. The bar was completely dark and with the light at his back, Alice could make out none of the man's features. The blood in her eyes didn't help either.

"Wow, I thought the sign advertising 'Wings so hot they're literally atomic' was full of shit, but this seems legitimate," the man said. His voice struck Alice as familiar, but for the life of her she couldn't place it.

Parsifal dropped Alice, turning to investigate the appearance of this man who was so strangely unfazed by the wanton destruction in the tavern.

"Let me guess," the mystery man said, approaching Parsifal, either unaware or uncaring of the danger. "You're the hotshot demonic up and comer making waves by bringing intellectualism into the zoo of unadulterated brute force that is hell politics."

"Always nice to have my reputation precede me," Parsifal replied. "And you are?"

"The guy who's going to intervene before this story goes too far off the rails and gets a ton of bad reviews for being too much of a bummer," the man replied. He paused, reconsidering his words. "Aw, who am I kidding. As if this shit show is ever gonna get another review anyway, good or bad."

"What?" Parsifal frowned, sounding genuinely confused.

"Don't worry about it, buddy," the man said, clapping him on the shoulder. "At your pay grade, your head'd explode if I tried to explain it to you. Now, I don't want trouble. I'm just here to take the girl off your hands. That can happen the easy way or the stabby way."

Parsifal didn't know whether to be more amused or annoyed by the stranger.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but-"

"Ok then."

The stranger interrupted him, grabbed him by the collar and flipped him through the air into the bar with all the ease of someone swatting a fly. The minute Parsifal landed, the man plunged a knife that was almost long enough to be a short sword into his chest. All but senseless on the ground, Alice still had enough of her wits about her to properly identify it as a dirk.

"The stabby way," the man commented cheerfully.

Bright orange light flashed in the tavern as Parsifal gave a final, dying scream and then went silent. The light blinked out and the man pulled his dirk from the dead lawyer's chest. He approached Alice, kneeling at her side.

"Wow, Smith. I gotta say, you've looked better," he tsked, close enough now that Alice could see his face. She realized why his voice sounded familiar.

This was Loki, the Norse god of mischief she'd met so terribly long ago while sending Sam and Dean on their way back from 1992.

Out of pure shock, she tried to say 'you', but all that came out was a wet squelch.

"What was that? Oh right, you just got your ass handed to you six ways from Sunday," he said. From his tone, Alice inferred that he got some kind of twisted amusement out of her suffering. "Let's see if I can't do something to help you with that."

He touched two fingers to her forehead and her pain vanished. She took a deep, gasping breath. Not that she needed to, it just felt good. Somewhere deep in the recesses of their shared mind, she felt Vera's spirit stirring. A veritable miracle.

"You!" Alice gasped now that she was able.

"That's right," Loki grinned. "It's me, your friendly neighborhood deus ex machina. You're welcome, by the way."

Alice had so many questions.

"What... how... why-"

"How about we blow this pop stand before you start the expository interrogation that is the hallmark of lazy narration?" Loki suggested. "As nasty as that bag of dicks was, he was just the messenger. There's plenty more where he came from."

He stood and offered her his hand. Dazed from the whole experience and lacking a better option, Alice took it.