Alice's head spun. Her eyes ached. Her brain wasn't fast enough to keep up with what was happening around her as the Trickster whisked her away. His choice of venue didn't help either. Wherever they were now, it was dark and smoky and it stank of sweat and stale beer. Colored lights strobed and blinked overhead, making it impossible for her eyes to adjust to the room.

"What the hell is this, a... a..."

A waitress in a bikini walked by their table with a tray of shots.

"Did you bring me to a strip joint?" she demanded.

"Hey, I'd like a little gratitude, if it's not too much to ask," Loki scolded her. "I just saved your butt. A thank you would be nice."

"I had the situation under control," Alice lied.

"Sure you did. That's why your body was pulp and that demon was getting ready to drag you back to hell where you belong," Loki snarked.

"No one asked for your help," she pointed out. Glad as she was to be out of danger, for the moment at least, she was wary of this Trickster. Unlike Huehuecoyotl, Loki had no compunctions about playing the nastiest pranks imaginable. Last she'd heard of him had been at the mystery spot where he'd killed Dean at least three dozen times just to screw with Sam's head.

"Well, if you really didn't need my help, I could always turn time back a tick," he said, raising his right hand with his fingers poised to snap. "Let you wiggle your way out on your own."

"No!" Alice shouted, panicking. He lowered his hand.

"That's what I thought. So how about a thank you?" Loki demanded.

"Thank you," Alice allowed grudgingly. "Now tell me why you did it."

"What, you don't believe I'm a good samaritan?" Loki asked with a chuckle. He stopped a waitress. "Ooh, honey, honey. You know what I want, right?"

"Right away, boss," the girl replied. She trotted away with a fluffy white rabbit tail bobbing after her. The Trickster whistled in appreciation while Alice scowled in disgust.

"Keep making that ugly face and I'll put you in the same outfit she has on," Loki threatened playfully, reading her revulsion. "Smile. You're not dead. Not yet, anyway."

Alice would have killed for a pine stake. She would have killed for a circle of runes to protect her. As happy as she was to not be in hell, she absolutely did not feel like smiling. She forced herself to anyway, but it was stiff and unenthusiastic.

"Ah, you're no fun!" Loki exclaimed. "Keep it up and this'll be the last party I bring you to."

Alice was starting to recover some of her wits, most of which were still scattered on the floor of the tavern back in Sioux Falls.

"If I'd known I was coming to a party I'd have brought a little hat," she said grudgingly.

"Done!"

Loki snapped and Alice braced herself for the worst. She clenched her eyes shut and tensed, waiting. After a minute, she opened them again. The waitress was back, setting down a line of shots and a platter containing fruits and what Alice could only guess was a pile of sugar. It took her a minute to figure out that the only thing Loki had done with his snap had been to place a paper cone party hat on her head. Its tassels tickled her nose, doing their best to make her sneeze. She tossed her head, throwing them out of her face.

"Have a drink, relax a little," Loki urged. He dipped a strawberry into one of his shots and rolled it around in the sugar. He knocked the shot back and chased it with the strawberry. Alice didn't feel like she had much choice at this point but to do what he said and hope he hadn't brought her here to humiliate and kill her. Gingerly, she picked up a tiny glass. It smelled like whiskey. She drank it, half-expecting it to be something nasty, but it was only alcohol.

"Come on, you can do better than that," Loki scoffed.

"Screw it," she shrugged. "If I'm gonna die I may as well do it drunk."

Loki applauded her delightedly as she knocked back five shots in quick succession. Her eyes watered and her throat burned, but she now felt pleasantly warm. Vera wasn't a drinker and the shots that wouldn't have fazed Alice in her own skin went right to her head.

"Ok, as fun as it would be to keep screwing with you, I don't want you to have a stroke," Loki informed her. "I'm not going to kill you. That doesn't even make any sense. If I wanted you dead I would have just kept minding my own business."

His words did nothing to comfort Alice, but she was giddy enough from the whiskey shots that she had to stop herself from giggling. Vera had no alcohol tolerance and Alice was starting to regret drinking so much so fast. Her vision swam and the world spun around her.

"Just so I'm three hundred percent sure," she said, holding the edge of the table to steady herself. "You didn't put something in those drinks, did you?"

"No, you're not my type," Loki assured her. "Not quite blonde enough, even in your true form. And anyway, I'm a gentleman."

"Sure."

Alice scowled, then quickly fixed her face back into a fake smile. She wasn't sure what he meant by her 'true form' but the idea that she wasn't in it was a little depressing.

"This vessel's just a lightweight then," she sighed, her words slurring ever so slightly. She cleared her throat, trying not to let him see just how fucked up she was at this point.

Then again, she thought, her day just kept getting shittier and shittier. Alice gave up the facade and picked up another shot, tipping the amber liquid from side to side as she considered drowning herself in it. There was a good reason she mostly drank tequila. Whiskey didn't mix well with her personality type, but already five drinks in, her judgement was shot. She downed the sixth, then reached for the seventh and last shot on the table.

"Ironic, you calling that poor hijacked body a vessel," Loki scoffed. "Then again, I've got no room to preach."

"Look, I'm loaded," Alice interrupted him. Over the course of only a few hours, she'd managed to burn her bridges with both hell and Dean. She could feel the whiskey slowly burning through her blood like sweet, depressing poison. Slowly but surely, it was drudging up all her grief, resurrecting her grievances. She felt helpless and blue, angry at the world but too busy moping to do anything about it.

"I figure we've got about ten minutes before I curl up in the corner and start wailing about how bad my life sucks," she informed the Trickster. "If you brought me here to make some kind of point, you'd better make it fast."

"Ew, I can't stand a sad drunk," Loki grimaced. "Terrible company. Fine, you're right. I didn't save you from that demon out of the goodness of my heart. I've got a job I need done and I thought you might be interested."

Alice felt like everyone and their mother wanted something from her. Heaven, hell, and now the pagans?

"I'm not," she assured him. All she wanted in the world was to go back to living under the radar. At this point, that seemed as impossible as pigs learning how to fly.

"Don't be so sure about that," Loki said with a smirk. "You see, I happen to know you've got beef with your family."

"I don't have any family," Alice grumbled, wishing for another shot as the world started to spin faster around her.

"Hey, I get it," Loki said, reaching for another strawberry. "They're dicks. I come from a long line of dicks myself."

Right. Alice wasn't too familiar with Norse mythology, but she knew enough to remember that they had their fair share of family drama. It didn't make them special. Any mythos that boasted a pantheon of deities usually portrayed them as backstabbing, conniving, self-interested pricks. All in all... Loki was right, that pretty much described the family she'd been so briefly and unpleasantly acquainted with.

"Which means I know how much you'd love to screw them over," Loki went on. "What do you say?"

"Keep talking."

"I need someone to take them out of the picture. All the way out of the picture, for good."

Alice wondered what exactly that meant, but she didn't want to jump the gun by asking him how he thought she could accomplish such a lofty goal. There was a more pressing question she needed answered first.

"Why?"

"Because right now they're some of the most important pieces on the chess board," Loki explained. "Heaven's using them to get what it wants. You do know what that is, don't you?"

"To... get rid of demons? Keep Dean out of hell?"

Loki rolled his eyes at her.

"Come on, Smith, you can do better than that! Think big picture."

"They want... to stop the apocalypse?" Alice guessed. After all, that was the point of sending her looking for Dean's soul, right? The demons wanted to end the world, the angels wanted to stop them.

"So cold!" Loki lamented. "Seriously, you didn't figure it out when you were swimming around in your cousin's skull?"

Alice was racking her brain, but nothing was coming to her. She put her hands up in surrender and Loki sighed.

"Maybe she doesn't know either," he wondered aloud. "At the end of the day, heaven and hell want the same thing. You-"

He pointed sharply at Alice.

"- Did your job too fast. Either that, or heaven didn't think Dean-O would hold out as long as he did. Whatever happened, the whole dance is thrown out of whack. There's a big fat wrench in the wheel of the endtimes and heaven wants it removed just as bad as hell does."

"Heaven... wants the world to end?" Alice asked skeptically.

"Well sure. Why not? That's the end all-be all kiddo. Kingdom come, as long as everything goes according to plan," Loki said. "Which, of course, so far it isn't. Heaven was hoping you would do what hell wanted, get the apocalypse back on track for both sides, but now that you've decided to tell hell to stick it where the sun don't shine- ballsy move, by the way... well, heaven's going to have to step in."

Alice put a hand to her forehead. She was having a hard time keeping up with the revelations and it didn't help that the world was spinning a little too fast and her stomach was churning sickeningly.

"As I'm sure you know, they never do their own dirty work," Loki went on, oblivious to Alice's discomfort. "Whatever their next move is, they'll use the Smiths to make it. Which is where you come in."

"Hold that thought," Alice groaned. She stood and almost fell right back on her ass. Through the colorful blinking lights that threatened to give her an aneurysm, she spotted the comforting, solid white of a restroom sign. She made a break for it, knowing she was about to be sick. As she lurched through the door just in time, she struggled to remember the last time she'd drunk herself sick. She found that she couldn't. What did come to mind was the first time she'd ever been sick from drinking.

As she retched into the toilet, she took a trip down memory lane. She remembered being thirteen, huddled in the same position in a motel bathroom. It was, if memory served, the very first time she'd ever gotten drunk. It was her birthday. The first birthday she spent alone, after her Grandmother's death. She remembered being a sobbing, snotty mess, wallowing in self pity. She had no one and nothing in the entire world. Her young heart was an open, festering wound and her grief was a black hole from which she could imagine no escape. She remembered puking her guts out, passing out on the cold motel tile that was her only comfort. She remembered waking up the next morning, disgusted with herself and resolving never to drink again as long as she lived.

She remembered forgetting that resolve the very next weekend when another opportunity presented itself to steal another bottle of whiskey. Back down the rabbit hole she'd gone.

"You didn't strike me as the type that couldn't hold their liquor," the Trickster observed at her back. His voice yanked her back to reality. Stinking, aching reality. Not that the memories she'd been visiting were any more pleasant than the present. She moaned in pain and pulled herself to her feet, staggering to one of the sinks.

"I thought you said you were a gentleman," she groaned, rinsing her mouth out and splashing cool water on her face. She imagined that heaven felt like this water, for those lucky enough to earn it.

"That stands."

"Gentlemen don't chase you into the ladies' room," Alice pointed out.

"This isn't the ladies room," Loki rebutted.

As if to prove his point, a man stumbled in singing off-key, too drunk to notice Alice. She groaned and let her forehead fall onto the faucet. It wasn't the worst place she'd ended up after getting too drunk, she told herself. That thought just made her feel worse.

"Whhhyy," she moaned loudly, "Why, why, why? Am I such a piece of shit?"

"Ok, this is ridiculous," Loki scowled. "Next time I take you out for shots, you're the designated driver, got it? Here."

He touched two fingers to the back of her head and instantly, her headache and nausea disappeared. Jarringly, Alice was sober again. Glad as she was to have her senses back, they unfortunately made her aware of just how filthy the bathroom was.

"Ugh!" she cringed, straightening quickly to get her face out of the dirty sink basin. She recomposed herself quickly, frowning at the Trickster. "You say that like we're going to be hanging out together a lot."

"Well, we could be," he said. "If you decide to take me up on my offer."

"Sure," Alice scoffed. "Because the last deal I made with one of you pricks worked out so nicely."

"Didn't it? I mean, you got away with your unbreakable oaths, didn't you?" Loki pointed out.

"I got my grandma killed," Alice shot back. "My sister too."

"Really? I missed the part where Allison died!"

"She's been as good as dead since Ruby got her hands on her."

"Wow, grim outlook," Loki shuddered. "Come on, kid, that's ancient history. It's time to get over it. Anyway, it wasn't your fault. You didn't get anybody killed. I mean, they were both hunters for crissakes! They knew what they signed up for. If that demon didn't get them, something else would have. It wasn't your fault. You need to move on."

Alice wasn't sure what Loki's angle was, but he was making her uncomfortable.

"Are you a Trickster or a fucking shrink?!" she demanded. "Make your damn offer already so I can tell you to shove it up your ass!"

"Don't write my proposal off before I even make it," Loki said. "It's a sweet deal. Look."

He held his hand out, and before Alice could blink, a small white brick appeared there. He tossed it to her and she caught it deftly, examining it suspiciously. It was malleable and smelled of tar. Her fingers left little dents in its surface as she turned it over.

"C4?" she asked. The pyromaniac buried deep inside her was immediately delighted. The dominant, practical side of her quickly stomped out that excitement. As much as she loved explosives, she rarely used them. As a matter of fact, aside from being taught how to use them, she had never actually used them. They were loud and made a mess. There were always cleaner, quieter ways to get the job done.

"Yep. Here's the deal; I get you as much of that stuff and whatever else your psycho little heart desires, and you blow the Smiths off the map for me. And in case that's not enough to get you interested, I'll sweeten the pot a little. Get it done and I'll let you join my party."

"Why the hell would I want anything to do with you?" Alice demanded.

"Well, for starters, I'll keep hell's fiery claws off you," Loki said. "Not to mention that my life is fun. You'd like it. Non-stop party."

Alice wasn't interested in a non-stop party, but she was extremely interested in staying out of hell. Even so, she was dubious.

"You can't keep me out of hell," she said. "The demons that are going to come after me, the reapers... hell, a few bored angels might decide to take a stab at sending me packing. You're just a piece of shit, dime a dozen norse deity. You don't have the juice to keep those kind of players at bay."

"Don't be so sure about that," Loki said with a glint in his eye. Something slipped from his sleeve, pale silver and silent as death, drawing Alice's eye. She recognized the blade's distinct design immediately. "There's more to me than meets the eye, Smith. Don't forget, I took care of your demon friend back there without breaking a sweat."

"Where did you get that?" she asked. Angel blades were difficult to come by.

"That's for me to know and you not to worry about," he smirked. The blade disappeared with a flicker, like a mirage. Alice wondered if it was just an illusion, but remembered that Parsifal was dead as a doornail. He hadn't been killed by a mirage. Alice was starting to compile quite a list of questions for Loki, but she forced herself back to the most relevant of them.

"Remind me why you want the Smiths blown up?"

"They're heaven's blunt tools, building the gallows from which the world will hang," Loki said eloquently.

"Right. And you can't blow them up yourself because...?"

"Come on! You've seen their fortress!" Loki exclaimed. "That place is warded like you wouldn't believe! I can't set foot within a hundred yards of the place."

"If you can't get in how the hell do you expect me to get in?" Alice demanded.

"You're creative. Resourceful. I'm sure you'll figure something out," Loki replied. "Plus, I'll help as much as I can, of course. So. What do you say?"

Alice considered carefully. She had been burnt dealing with Tricksters before, but he made a compelling case. After all, she thought, what was she not willing to do to stay out of hell?

"Can I have a little time to think about it?" she requested.

"You've got til I finish my fruit platter and feel up the waitress who brought it to me," Loki told her. "Don't think too long."

He left and Alice lingered, chewing her nails while she processed everything he had just told her. She needed a drink. A good drink, not fucking whiskey. Also not tequila. Maybe vodka.

The drunk, humming man stumbled out of the stall at long last, noticing Alice on his way out. He backed up unsteadily with a dumb grin.

"Aw, whatcha doin' in here doll? Lost?" he drawled, getting too close. Alice sidestepped, ignoring him and heading for the door with a roll of her eyes. The man blocked her path, undaunted.

"Come on, don't be like that," he slurred. He towered over her. No doubt he felt safe, unaware of the inhuman nature of his would-be prey.

"Do you want to fucking die today?!" Alice snarled, irritated. Even without ghostly advantages, she had the training to drop him in five seconds flat.

"Ok, ok! Tough chick, huh?"

He tried to grab her, but she stepped back, shifted all her weight to her her left foot, and swung her right high. Her heel connected with the side of the man's head as he stumbled forward, thrown off balance by his own clumsy attempt to put his hands on her. He went down like a sack of potatoes, prone on the bathroom floor. Alice considered killing him just for the hell of it, but decided he wasn't worth it. The guy was drunk out of his mind and hardly a challenge.

Was Dr. Avery a challenge? she couldn't help but ask herself as she strolled past the man. What made her worth killing if this guy wasn't?

Alice admitted to herself that it was as simple as a change of mood. When she'd let herself kill Avery on impulse, she'd been upset and backed into a corner. This guy was just lucky. She still had to think Loki's offer over, but despite herself, she was pretty excited about it.

Sam, Ruby and Anna rode together in tense silence. Though the girl had come with them willingly, Sam knew it was only because she felt like she had no other choice. There was nowhere else for her to go. If he was being honest, Sam didn't have anywhere for them to go either. At this point they were just on the run, retreating from the threat of Alastair. He met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, but she looked away quickly. Sam's gaze moved to Ruby, staring expressionlessly out the window. He had to face the reality that her story didn't hold much water. Still, there was one way to find out for sure. If Dean was back, there was someone who would know.

"Bathroom break, anyone?" he announced, pulling off the highway into a rest area.

"I'm fine," Ruby sighed.

"I-I could go," Anna admitted.

"Ruby, go with her," Sam instructed, getting out of the car.

"I should just give in to my destiny and take up babysitting professionally," Ruby grumbled. "Hell, I could aim for the big bucks and open a daycare center."

Never the less, she escorted Anna into the ladies' room. Sam waited until they were out of sight, before wandering away from the car and opening his phone. He dialed a number that he hadn't dialed in months. It rang a few times and Sam checked his back nervously, hoping for an answer.

"Yeah?"

Bobby's rough voice was like music to Sam's ears.

"Bobby. It's Sam."

"Sam?! Boy, where the hell have you been?" Bobby growled. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for months!"

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said. "I've been... busy. Look, I don't have much time."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I heard something crazy. I wanted to see if you'd heard anything about it."

"What's that?"

"I heard... I heard someone say Dean was back from the dead," Sam said. "Back from hell."

"That is crazy. No, I haven't heard anything like that. Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam hesitated before answering, taking a moment to process Bobby's words. He was disappointed, but there was something else... something didn't feel right.

"Look, Bobby, I can't talk right now," Sam said carefully, suspicion filling his heart.

"Sam-"

"I'll call you back."

Sam ended the call abruptly but didn't put his phone away. He stared at it for a long time, waiting for Bobby to call him back. The real Bobby Singer wouldn't let him go that easily, not after he'd been out of contact for so long and especially not in light of the subject of their call. After Dean's death, Bobby had tried so hard to get him to let it go, to accept what was and move on with his life. The real Bobby Singer would call him back and demand to know where he was, why he was asking about Dean. The real Bobby Singer wouldn't dismiss what Sam heard as rumor.

"Sam!"

Ruby's voice at his back sent a chill down his spine. He turned to see her waving him back to the car. He tucked his phone into his pocket, keeping a poker face as he walked back to join her.

"Stretch your legs after we get more distance between us and Alastair," she told him. Sam examined her expression carefully. Her features held no sign of deception... except something in her eyes that he saw every so briefly. It was gone so fast that it could just as easily have been his imagination, but Sam swore she looked smug.

"Right."

They drove on in silence, though Sam's head was anything but quiet. Painstakingly, he devised a plan. He was going to get the truth once and for all about Ruby.

Dean packed for his trip to find and burn Alice's bones. To say his heart was heavy would have been an understatement. His heart felt like it was done with life's bullshit and ready to pack a bag of it's own and run away to Vegas without him. He'd gotten in too deep with Alice and now he knew that had been a mistake. The worst part was that deep down, he'd known better all along. He just talked himself into believing that she was a better person than she gave herself credit for.

It turned out Alice knew herself through and through. He should have left well enough alone.

His phone rang. Not recognizing the number, Dean answered it.

"Yeah?

"Hey, Dean."

Alice.

Dean snapped the phone shut with a scowl. She was the last person he wanted to hear from right now. What could she possibly have to say to him anyway? Did she think she could lure him into another trap? Maybe talk him into signing his soul away a second time? Whatever it was, Dean decided he didn't need to know. He kept packing.

His phone rang again. Same number. He let it go to voicemail.

It rang a third time. This time he declined the call. His finger hovered over the 'block caller' button, but he couldn't bring himself to press it. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and finished packing. From the back of his jeans, his phone informed him that he had a new message. He ignored it for the moment, grabbing his bag and heading down the stairs. He said a passing good-bye to Bobby and left the house with the feeling that he was forgetting something. Unable to put his finger on what it was, he forged ahead, getting into the car Bobby was loaning him. He started it up, but something was bugging him, pressing on the back of his mind irritatingly. It wouldn't let him go just yet.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to hear anything Alice had to say. He debated with himself for a few minutes before he finally played the voicemail she'd left him.

"Dean, I... I, uh..."

Alice was silent for so long that Dean almost thought the message was over. Finally, she spoke again. He could tell she'd been drinking.

"Look, I get it if you don't want to talk to me. That's fine, I just... I just called to say I'm sorry. Not that it means much now, I guess. You should know I'm done coming after you. Hell isn't, I'm sure, but I am. Be careful out here, ok? Don't let them drag you back down there. We both know you're no saint, but you don't deserve that either."

Alice paused and chuckled.

"You know, I just realized you might not even hear this. Damn. I really fucked up, huh? I hate to keep making excuses for myself, but... well, it's hell. I didn't want to go back. It was nothing personal. No, wait, that's stupid... of course it was personal."

She was quiet again for a long time. Dean could hear that she was somewhere crowded. Music played and people spoke in tangled, indecipherable chorus in the background.

"I'm just sorry it had to end like this," she finally said. "It was fun while it lasted. Hey... I know this is a long shot, but... I mean, if you ever need a hand with..."

She laughed, sounding a little unhinged.

"I know I've gotta be the last person on the planet you would call. But just in case. You've got my number."

The message ended with a beep, leaving Dean alone in the silence of its aftermath, slowly absorbing the meaning of what she'd said. Good-bye. It felt so final to hear it said aloud, even though he hadn't been planning on seeing her again. He was struck by the urge to call her back, to say good-bye properly, but how? Alice had no idea her days were numbered. She didn't know he was on his way to kill her, this time for good. The thought that he had to be the one to do the deed struck him through the heart like one of the knives she was so fond of. He was angry at Alice, hurt by what she'd tried to do to him, but underneath all that anger and hurt, there were still a lot of other emotions. Ones he didn't dare give name to.

He ignored them and forced himself to put his phone away. He had no choice, he kept telling himself. Alice needed to die. Though she claimed she was done coming after him, he didn't know if it was the truth. Even if it was, it didn't make her any less of a wild card.

"Alice is dangerous. It's high time someone took care of her for good."

Alice's own words, Dean realized with hindsight.

"What a piece of work," he groaned aloud, throwing the car into gear and taking off. Just as he hit the highway, he remembered what it was that he was forgetting, what was itching in the back of his mind that he'd been unable to pin down on his way out of Bobby's.

He'd completely forgotten about Danny up until now.

"I'll kill the son of a bitch when I'm done with Alice," he said aloud to himself.