It seems like every other chapter I'm apologizing for being a week late...oops. Good news is my summer day care job ended, but I caught a nasty summer cold right after that knocked me down for a few days, however I am now back on my feet! Bad news is that summer is coming to a close; I'll try to keep the updates regular, but please be patient :) That being said, thank you all for sticking around, and we're almost at 150 reviews, wow! Again, never thought the story would be going this far. Thanks in particular to cubelixa1, ThornsHaveRoses, VegasGranny, TXKimsonFan, mak2018, DearHart, Celtic Knot, rainbow461830, and grannytrkr54. (that's a lot of names for the past chapter, I can't tell you how happy it made me to read through all of them) It's always nice to hear comments, and thanks to so many of you for taking the time to leave them!

And yes, Billie, we're getting into some fun stuff here! But I have to credit ThornsHaveRoses and ImpalaLove for helping me out with this idea and giving me some advice. Without their feedback I'd probably still be stuck in the 'where the hell do we go from here' mindset I had after the fire got put out. Thanks, guys ;)

And finally, I still don't own Supernatural, but just about 50 days until season 14! (who's counting? I did post a little speculative fic while working through some blocks for this one if anyone wants to check it out, heads up, it's possibly more angsty than this story)

Needless to say, Dean wasn't sitting down. While it may have been considered rude, he couldn't stop staring at the woman. Something was…off about her. There wasn't a fuzzy quality to her like there was the house around them if he looked hard enough. She looked sharp, almost real. Maybe it was possible she wasn't just a figment of his imagination after all.

"You're…real?" he asked after an incredibly long pause, to which she nodded. "And a mind reader?"

She actually slightly chuckled at that, and then shook her head. "You being worried about being erased? It doesn't take a mind reader to figure that out by the way you're staring at those photographs," she said, and gestured towards the images Dean had been looking at moments prior.

Dean was still skeptical. How many beings could get into people's heads, let alone ones that seemed to know him? "What's your name?"

"Billie," she said simply. "Pleasure to be re-acquainted, with your unfortunate condition and all."

So they had met before, that would definitely explain her attitude and looks towards him. "We've got history, not necessarily all good I'm guessing?" he asked and raised an eyebrow, but didn't come any closer.

Billie smirked. "See? No mind readers needed here, Dean."

"What are you?" Dean asked next, cutting past all the crap and getting right to it. Billie folded her arms in front of herself, apparently not keen on giving Dean the answer he wanted. Either that, or she was enjoying watching him flounder with his lack of memory. And given their probably complicated past…yeah, it was definitely the second one. "So you're real, not just a figment of my imagination," she nodded along as he tried to piece it together out loud, "I'm unconscious, or dreaming, or whatever. Angel?"

"Not quite. Keep digging," she prompted, still looking quite amused.

Not quite an angel, but still real, and was inside his head while he was unconscious. And he was unconscious because of a fire and rubble falling on him, so he was probably injured, hopefully in a hospital, and could possibly be near death. Dean slowly turned his gaze back to her, hoping he was wrong, but knowing he probably wasn't. "Reaper?" he said in a slightly smaller tone.

"Bingo," Billie answered with a smirk.

Dean was definitely more rooted in his spot now. If she was here, it meant that things were probably really bad out there. But there was no way in hell he was letting her take him, not after everything that had happened the past month. "Why are you here?"

Billie leaned against the kitchen table, arms still folded in front of her. "It's been some months since we've talked, you and Sam seem to keep getting into werewolf trouble, funny I'm not here for another one of those." When Dean looked at her, still confused, and not amused, she finally decided to somewhat answer his question. "You'd think it would be to finally take you to the great big empty."

Dean shifted and his face morphed into one of confusion. Empty? The hell was that supposed to mean?

"Considering you're almost dead and you did get rid of my boss a few years ago, it would be fitting for you to finally meet your end."

He held up a hand to stop her where she was. "Sorry, got rid of your boss? As in Death? The Death? I got rid of him?" Her stormy frown was enough of an explanation for him, and his mouth remained open just a bit in surprise.

"And that," Billie pointed to him, "is the unfortunate reason why I can't go through with it, no matter how much I'd like to."

Of course, that did little to get rid of Dean's confusion about pretty much anything. "I'm sorry here, you're not making any kind of sense. We've got history, I killed Death apparently, and my reaction to that is why you're not carrying my soul off?"

"In simple terms, yes. In more complex ones, your lack of recollection of the specific events you just referenced is the problem."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean scoffed sarcastically.

"And because of this condition of yours, you, your brother, and your angel, have all been benched long enough."

Dean looked back at her curiously. "Meaning?" he asked and leaned closer. "We tried to come off the bench, work a case, and look how that ended up. I'm almost dead, Sam's…" Dean paused immediately mid-sentence. If he was almost dead from his injuries, how was Sam fairing? "Is Sam okay?" he immediately changed his line of questioning.

Billie looked like she almost rolled her eyes, but settled for a sigh instead. "You Winchesters, so codependent. Save the world together, die together, when one stops hunting, the other stops hunting. One dies, the other begs to bring him back, you really don't learn, do you? Package deal, right?"

"Answer me!" Dean raised his voice. Not that he could do anything about it in his current state, but it would still help to know. And besides, her ongoing references to other meetings that almost ended in death wasn't helping anything.

She waited a few more seconds, looking like she wanted to say something else, but opted to not go with it. "Sam's not on the list to be taken," she finally answered, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "And as of now, neither are you, not yet at least, you've both still got work to do. Unfortunately, that work's not getting done as of late."

Dean's momentary happiness was just as quickly vanquished. "Look, Billie, we're freaking trying, alright? I didn't ask to get stuck with this."

"People have been dying in your absence. A few here or there, but enough to shift a few things." She was back to business, her tone almost cold as she relayed the situation.

"You think I don't know that? That's why we took this job in the first place, to get back out there. I can't fix this," Dean said angrily and pointed at his head.

"You're right, you can't. You're slipping away as we speak."

That was definitely a comforting thought. "Then why are we speaking? Why am I stuck in this house? Why aren't you trying to take me to some great beyond?" he threw his arms out in front of him.

"All your questions tie together, Dean, you just don't realize it yet." She was like a cat, playing around with a soon to be dead mouse, and Dean absolutely hated it. Reaper or not, he was growing short on patience with her.

"Any chance you could help me realize it, so we could get a move on?" he pressed.

Billie continued to look at him, amused by his confusion and need to know what apparently only she understood. "This house," she gestured to the fake building around them, "is your mind's recreation of what it would look like now. It's place that used to be like a home to you, Dean, and its occupants that were practically family, and yet there's no record of you ever being here. You've been grieving the loss of something you can't recall losing, of something and someone that doesn't recall losing or even meeting you, and it's taking a toll, whether you realize it or not."

Dean figured he realized it, but probably not in the same way she was referring to.

"But without those pesky little memories, you can't move past it and accept the decisions your past self made. You can't reconcile the fact that your father figure is dead, a woman like your sister, who you never even met is dead, along with many other faces you wouldn't even recognize," she began to explain.

"Your point being?" Dean prompted.

"You're stuck, unable to keep going with your life, and you're dragging Sam and Castiel down with you. You have work to do on a cosmic scale, unfortunately, lives to save, paths to keep intact, and without a solution those problems will continue." The fond look had faded from her face, replaced with one of mild annoyance, as if she really didn't want Dean to have more work to do or to continue to be important to the universe. Well, sucked for her, Dean didn't make the rules.

"Yeah, but as we've already gone over, nothing I can do about it," he said with his own level of annoyance. She didn't say anything, but a corner of her mouth turned upwards in what may have been the beginnings of a smirk. Dean couldn't do anything, not medically, not physically, and certainly not while trapped in his own head. But…"Is there something you can do?" he ventured, completely still as he waited for an answer.

December 28

Castiel's lonely night spent in the Impala was just that, lonely. He entered the hospital approximately five minutes after visiting hours had opened, eager to see if there was a progress report available on Sam and Dean. He hadn't received any notifications, so he was assuming that no new terrible developments had happened. Still, he waited for an older woman in front of him to be directed by the woman at the desk before he got his turn.

"Morning," the female assistant greeted him with a kind smile, which Cas tried to return. "Something I can help you with?"

The angel nodded. "The brothers that were brought in yesterday, Sam and Dean, I was wondering if there was any news or if I would be able to see them?"

"You're Cas, right, the third brother? They said you'd be in first thing," she remarked. She then typed a few things into the computer and read over them. "Nothing's been entered into the system. Monica's their main nurse, she should be here in an hour or so. I'll see if I can get Dr. Thompson over with a progress report, if you wouldn't mind waiting?" she gestured back over to the chairs in the waiting area.

"Of course, thank you," Cas said with another nod, and went to sit back down in the chairs he had become familiar with the day before. Luckily, it didn't take long for a man he assumed to be Dr. Thompson to come from one of the hallways. Aside from another woman in the waiting room, Cas was there alone, and stood when the doctor entered.

"You must be Cas, I'm Mark Thompson, one of the doctors that's been looking over your brothers' care," he introduced, and held his hand out. Cas shook it, simply because he had seen Sam and Dean do it on various occasions with other people. He didn't really understand the usefulness of the gesture, it was a strange way to become acquainted with someone, but he went along with it without a comment.

"It is nice to meet you," Cas returned the pleasantries he had again heard on many occasions. He had been feeling an increased sense of 'deja vu' that some people often referred to, having just been through this same process only weeks prior. "Is there any news about either of their conditions?"

Thompson nodded. "For the most part it's positive, I won't leave you hanging. Sam's oxygen levels increased, so he's off the ventilator and breathing on his own just fine. The sedation is being tapered off, so he should start waking soon. Infection is always a concern following a smoke inhalation injury, so we're keeping him on antibiotics and under a watchful eye, but he should make a full recovery just fine."

Cas had heard a similar report from Monica the day before, but hearing it again with added details took a bit of the weight off of his shoulders. Sam was expected to make a full recovery, that was definitely good news. The odds seemed to be in his favor, and Cas knew what Winchesters were capable of even when the odds were stacked against them.

"And Dean? Monica had mentioned some complications may arise from his previous injuries coupled with the new trauma?" He could, of course, hope that it wouldn't be the case, but he would have to wait a few moments to hear if his hope was enough.

Thompson nodded at that. "Unfortunately, with what we're seeing, that appears to be the case. There's only so much trauma in a short period of time that one can withstand," he said regretfully. "He hasn't yet shown signs of waking, his vitals aren't quite where we'd like them to be, and the scan shows a few more regions of possible damage that could be problems in the future."

Any relief that Cas had felt over Sam being alright was slowly being torn away, and he found himself unable to nod that he understood. "Can you estimate when he may wake up?"

The doctor paused for a moment before he shook his head. "The brain is a fickle thing, there's no way to truly estimate it, especially with his prior injuries. We're keeping a close eye on him, but for now, I'm sorry to say that it's about all we can do."

"Thank you for doing what you can," Cas eventually said, though his attention had waned in the passing moments. Thompson seemed to sense this, and tried to steer the conversation back to the more positive side of things.

"You can go sit with Sam, if you'd like, he should be coming around, just let someone know when he seems fully conscious," he directed. Cas was grateful for the distraction, and after thanking the doctor again when he promised to keep Cas updated on Dean's condition, he headed down the hall towards Sam's room.

Cas paused outside for a few moments to send Jody a text as he had said he would do, updating her on both of their conditions. Her reply came mere seconds later, she must have been keeping a close eye on her phone, and reiterated when they had spoken about the day before, and reminded Cas to take care of himself as well. Even though the Winchesters were both unconscious and Jody was states away, a simple few messages back and forth helped him feel less overwhelmed by the whole thing.

When he finally did enter the room, it was slightly quieter than the night before. The various beeps were still present, but the constant hiss and pull of the ventilator had been removed from the room. Sam had thankfully regained some of his color and looked a bit more like himself with only a cannula wrapped around his nose.

"Good morning, Sam," Cas said before he got any further into the room. He was unsure if Sam could actually hear him or not, but he wouldn't want to scare him should he be aware of some unannounced person coming towards him. "The doctor said that you have been making progress, which he seems pleased about."

He got into the same chair he had been in earlier, and dragged it a bit closer to the bed. "I, too, am happy to hear it, though I had expected nothing less from a fighter such as yourself." Every few seconds he would look at the monitors to see if any of Sam's vitals had changed to indicate that maybe he was waking up, but there was no such change. Thompson had said it would take time though, and Cas had practice with being patient.

He began telling Sam about how he and Dean had dug up the grave, split up, and how he himself had finally torched the house. Cas also reassured Sam that the sheriff had gotten away relatively unscathed, because he knew Sam would be worried about the person he had been trying to protect. He was sure he would have to retell the whole story once Sam was fully conscious, but talking helped to fill the silence, and gave him something to do other than stare at Sam and wait for him to wake. Besides, maybe his storytelling was helping to bring Sam around, but he had no idea.

"I am assuming that burning the house got rid of the spirit, as you anticipated, I am just sorry that I was unable to do it quicker. They ruled the fire as an electrical malfunction, which fits with the other reports in the area, though some of the staff still seems baffled by it all. I suppose it would be quite surprising, especially for a small town like this. Perhaps we have just gotten used to the normally surprising events since we seek them out and deal with patterns such as these so often. Do you find that to be true, Sam?"

Of course, there wasn't an answer, but Cas didn't take it personally, and continued talking, asking questions that Sam wasn't yet able to answer. When Dean had been in the hospital the month prior, it hadn't escaped Cas' notice that he seemed just slightly more stable whenever Sam was in the room, let alone if he were talking or not. Cas knew it would be the same in this situation, but unfortunately, the brothers couldn't be moved to be in the same room together, and Cas couldn't be in two places at once.

As soon as he was allowed, he would go see Dean, which the unconscious man would probably object to and tell him to 'get his ass back over and watch Sam', which of course Sam would then refute and send him back over to Dean. It was a comforting thought, at least, and Cas hoped it would be one to come true in the very near future.

Cas had continued talking, and while thinking at the same time, his eyes had drifted to the machines by Sam's bed. They didn't show a major change in the numbers on the screens, but when the angel turned his eyes back to Sam, the younger hunter was blearily looking back at him. It was immediately clear that he wasn't quite all there, given the medication and painkillers, but just seeing his eyes open was a relief.

"Sam?" He stopped his tirade of talking and shifted slightly closer to the bed.

"Hey," Sam eventually got out, and even in his whispered tone Cas could hear the damage done by the smoke Sam had been exposed to. "Cas?"

The angel nodded. "It's me." He then held out a hand as soon as Sam opened his mouth to say something more. "You're in the hospital, the doctors said you will make a full recovery. The spirit is dealt with, and the sheriff is alive," he summarized as briefly as he could. Sam's eyes scanned the rest of the room, vaguely looking for the one figure who was always present but this time was absent. The heart monitor picked up an increased number of beeps.

"Dean is alive," Cas assured quickly, hearing the panic in the younger Winchester. "He is still unconscious, being treated for head trauma, but he is alright, Sam." It took a minute or so, but Sam's pulse gradually got down to a normal level, and he sagged back against the bed. Cas would give him more details on Dean's condition later, when Sam himself was not in such a vulnerable state.

Sam nodded ever so slightly and closed his eyes again. Cas thought he was about to go back to sleep, but a few seconds later they blinked back open, as if he were trying to get them focused and back to normal as quickly as possible. Cas used the few moments to push the call button next to the bed, as he had been instructed to do when Sam was fully awake.

Monica came in shortly after, and smiled widely upon seeing her patient finally conscious for the first time in almost a day. She took down a few numbers, asked Sam a few simple questions, which he answered in a similar simple fashion, and, pleased with the results, she left the room. When Monica returned, she handed Cas a cup of ice chips and a spoon and situated Sam's bed so he would be more comfortable sitting up.

With the promise to return in half an hour or so, she again left to check on the other patients and update the information.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and gave the younger man a spoonful of ice chips. With his hands bandaged, Sam couldn't quite do it himself, but Cas could tell that he appreciated it.

"Good…chest hurts," Sam said shortly. His breaths weren't quite even and it sounded like he could cough at any time, but he was breathing under his own power, which Cas had been told was a good sign.

"Smoke inhalation. You were in the building the longest, but I've been assured that there won't be any long term affects. Some short term, getting back on your feet, but nothing extremely serious. I used some of my grace to heal your and Dean's burns…it hasn't recharged enough to be of more assistance," Cas answered in more detail, since Sam seemed more alert.

Sam looked like he processed it for a few seconds, hopefully he'd retain some of the information, before he slightly nodded. "Thanks, Cas." He looked to the angel with the smallest quirk of a smile. Cas guessed he would have said more if he was stronger, but after spending so much time with the Winchesters, he had begun to understand the hidden meanings behind a supposedly simple thank you.

Nevertheless, Cas shrugged and passed Sam another spoonful. "I'm glad I can help, no matter how little it may be." Burns and cuts he could manage, but nothing like Dean's condition.

Little snippets of conversation went back and forth, usually with one or two word answers from Sam, which was fine with Cas, so long as he was up and attempting to communicate and not still unconscious. He set the cup on the bedside table when it had been emptied and Sam leaned back against the pillows.

Monica came back after the promised half hour, and was happy to see Sam still up, though his eyes had started to droop again with the aftereffects of the medication running through his system.

"You're doing really well, Sam," she praised with a smile on her face as she jotted down a few things, and then paused in the room with the pen in her hand. "Dr. Thompson told me to tell you that they're sending Dean for another scan, but you can see him for a few minutes if you'd like, they have him relatively stable now."

Any tiredness was wiped from Sam's face as Cas looked back at him, unsure as to if he should really leave Sam alone. Then again, he was improving and would probably doze off soon after Cas left or returned with news. Any doubts he still had were tossed aside when Sam nodded to him. "Go," he instructed. It was clearly evident that Sam was wishing he could go as well, but he definitely wasn't up for it yet.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Cas replied. Monica had moved to the door, and Cas paused for just a second longer to reassure himself that Sam would in fact be alright if he left for ten minutes, before following her out.