Laughter echoed from the library, Dean rolling over in bed to see that it was nearly noon. He dragged himself to his feet, eventually going to see what all of the commotion was about. "So get this, there's what Dad thought was a vampire nest in upstate New York, so Dean and I went out, but when we got there, there were no vamps, no attacks, nothing, and -" Sam's smile faded as his brother walked in, Grace solemnly nodding her good morning. "I was telling her about that thing in Oswego. We're still not sure what it was, but iron rounds sure killed it."

Dean nodded, heading for the kitchen. He could hear snippets of their conversation as he went, the same thought he'd been stewing over for weeks now nagging at the back of his mind. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, the nagging thoughts grew louder. He had wanted to wait until things had calmed down, but he simply couldn't let go of this one. He had to find out. Even if his suspicions were confirmed, he had to know.

Emerging from the kitchen, he came to a stop in front of the table that Grace and Sam were working at. "Gracie, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" she asked, her smile dying as she set her book down and followed him into the hall. "Is everything okay?"

Everything came gushing out at once. Dean hadn't realized how much he had been holding back. The words came pouring out, nearly poisonous as they hit her. "It's always been you two, hasn't it? The best friends, the 'I'm going to be a lawyer' kids, the two smartest people in the school. I should've seen it. I don't know how I was so blind for so long. What would a brilliant, beautiful woman like you want with Sam's deadbeat, dropout of a brother?"

"Dean, what brought this on?" She took a half-step back, clearly incensed. "You idiot. It's you. It's always been you. You think that wasn't real? We hid from Sam because we were worried about what he'd think. All that time we spent together back then, everything we've been through, how can you possibly think -"

She was interrupted by the blaring of an alarm clock, Dean bolting up in bed. Grace slept peacefully beside him, reacting a half-second slower that he did. "Can you turn that off?" she groaned, sitting up stiffly. "Time for work, I guess. I swear we just went to bed." Dean watched as she got up, slowly getting herself together for the day. "Something wrong?" she finally asked, her mouth full of toothpaste. "You look like you had a really weird dream."

"It's nothing," he shrugged, finally getting out of bed. "Like you said, time to figure out how we can kick Chuck's ass. But first, I want breakfast. I think we've still got bacon. Gonna have to go on a supply run soon."

Leaning on the doorframe, Grace watched him go. A few minutes later, she could smell bacon frying in the kitchen. Just another day in the bunker. When she joined him, Dean offered her a piece. "Thanks. Think I should make a whole pot of coffee, or do you just want a cup?"

"If we don't drink it all, we can save it. It's not like it's going to go to waste around here. Is Sam still out tracking Eileen?"

"As far as I know. Last time I heard from him was around seven last night, while he was on the road. He called to check in and see if we'd found anything yet."

"Gracie?"

"Hmm?" She handed him a coffee mug, leaning against the counter as he cooked. "Want me to make eggs too?"

"Uh, sure. Anyway, umm... do you think you can do better?"

"With the eggs?" she frowned. "I didn't burn them last time. I don't make eggs a lot, but if you want me to try making them another way, I can. I didn't think they were that bad, though."

He was suddenly laser-focused on frying bacon. "I meant better than me."

Setting her coffee mug down, Grace stood behind him, looping her arms around his stomach and balancing her chin on his shoulder so she could talk directly to him without forcing him to look at her. "I love you. You're absolutely brilliant. You know almost as much lore as I do, and you're way more inventive than I am. Remember that banshee trap you came up with in Ohio? Or how you figured out we could vacuum up that spirit in Phoenix? You're smart and you're funny and you can be a bit of an asshole, but I love you." She kissed his cheek, adding, "Even if I could go for a celebrity or something, I wouldn't want to. You make me happy. You always have, even when you stress the hell out of me. Is this coming from what we talked about the other day?"

"Kind of. Sorry, I just had a weird dream." He turned to kiss her, moving the pan to a cool burner at the back of the stove. "I know what you've been up to while we're away. Congrats on the book deal. I just never thought I'd be married to someone like you, someone who can do all of this research, help us kill big, bad monsters, and write books about it like it's no big deal."

"It's just a chapter in a mythology textbook," Grace shrugged, downplaying her work. "I figured I could use what I knew, you know? Plus it's a good idea to have something to work off of when we eventually get out of this."

"Either way, congratulations, my brilliant, beautiful wife."

"Thanks. Got any plans for the rest of the day?"

"Just hunting down answers about Chuck and Lilith," he told her. "Long story short, I'm not going anywhere."

Sam and Eileen got back in the early afternoon, stopping to eat in the war room while Dean and Grace kept researching. Eventually Dean got up, leaving his computer to hunt something down in the depths of the bunker. Grace paid no attention to him, carefully trying to decipher a manuscript written in Old English. She patiently wrote everything out line by line as she translated. When he came back, he had something in his hand. "C'mon, I have an idea. Let's show the others."

"I've got something," Dean announced, Grace following in his wake. He unwrapped the Demon Tablet, explaining, "This thing's written by Chuck himself. It's meant to be used if something happened to him and the demons tried to take over Earth."

"It's meant to protect humans if he couldn't?" Eileen asked, setting her sandwich down. "What could happen to take him out of the game?"

Dean nodded. "No idea. It's weird, because he's supposed to be untouchable. Unless he's not untouchable. We could use this to seal him away just like we did with Lucifer, and then we don't have to kill him. I don't think we can kill Chuck, and if we did, we might not want to. It's all about balance in the universe, right?"

"Okay, so we need someone who can read it." Eileen looked to Grace, hoping her time as a demon would have taught her something.

Grace shook her head, admitting, "I might be able to get a couple of words, but we'd need a prophet to make sure we get this right. This isn't the kind of thing we want to mess around with. How's Donatello doing? Maybe we should give him a call."

A few hours later, Donatello sat in front of the demon tablet, slowly working away. Cas had been able to find him and bring him back, and now all they could do was wait. They tried reading, but every time Donatello moved, everyone's eyes were glued to him. "Can you stop?" he groaned, scribbling down a couple of notes in frustration. "It's kind of hard to work with five pairs of eyes on me."

"I'm going to grab a drink. Why don't you guys come with?" Grace suggested, getting up to stretch. "We'll get some drinks, get some snacks, do a lap around the bunker. We could all use it. We've been here for hours."

"Wait." Everyone froze, half of them not yet fully out of their seats. "This part here - 'his secret fear is always present, one he shares only with his favorite' - does that mean anything to you? What could he possibly be afraid of? He's God with a capital 'G'."

Cas was the first to speak. "At the time the tablet was written, Lucifer had already been cast down. Chuck's favorite would've been Michael. Michael would know about Chuck's secret fear."

"If Michael helped Chuck overpower Amara, he might know how to lock him up too," Sam reasoned. "If h was the favorite, he would've been right there, seen everything."

Dean and Grace shared a look. Neither of them wanted to have anything to do with Michael, but if they had to, they had to. They had a bigger problem in front of them now. "The real Michael is in Hell, locked in the Cage," Grace finally said, all of them knowing what had to be done. "We're going to need to -"

"Donnie? You alright?" Dean had reached out for him, the prophet nearly falling out of his chair before turning to talk to them in a new voice.

"Hey guys."

Everyone bristled at the voice, bracing themselves for a fight. Grace instinctively grabbed Dean's hand. Sam took a protective step backwards towards Eileen. Cas was seconds from pulling his angel blade when Chuck's voice told them to, "Leave it alone, guys. Leave it alone or I go all-powerful. Maybe not right away, but there's still, let's see… Jody, Donna, you, Eileen, and even you, my dear Grace," he smiled, forcing Donatello to make eye contact with her. "I won't go after the boys right away, but there are so many of you I could take care of first, I'd hardly know who to choose to go first. So leave it alone, boys, or pretty soon there will come a day when you wish you had."

Dean squeezed her hand, his silver wedding band pressing into her palm as if to say, "I won't let him hurt you." He had shifted, now a half-step in front of her. He held onto her tightly, both of them glaring at Chuck.

"Sweet sentiment there, Dean, but really, you know how this goes. I can and will kill your friends and family if I have to." Donatello coughed, slumping in his chair before gasping as his own consciousness took over again. "Uhh, can I get out of here?"