Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Eight

Point. Counterpoint.

1996

Remiel had called Menlo to the facade of his mortal office, the one place he could be certain to maintain privacy after hours. His daughter, his beautiful baby girl, lay sleeping on the desk, sprawled out on her tummy amid a nest of blankets he'd set up for her. Her sleep wasn't natural, but there was no way he could avoid that. She was still so young that her mind was malleable, and his suggestion would hold for many hours before he worried about her waking again.

Menlo borrowed the form of one of his undergrad students, a scruffy young man from Seattle named Ken. He'd visited the boy while he slept, proposing for them to take a walk together through his dream. As a result, Ken would likely remember the next course of events as nothing more than a dream.

"If Michael finds out I was here, you know I'll be sent to serve time with the others... Shriven or not." Menlo warned his fellow as he sat down.

Remiel only nodded, never taking his eyes off the child sleeping before him. "And if they find me, our fates will be much harsher."

There was silence as the other angel agreed to that thought. In the silence, Menlo studied the child between them. This was the life that Remiel had created. It was only fitting that of all of them, Remiel would remember how to create a nephilim. Menlo had merely been a soldier, while Remiel had been a keeper of secrets, a seeker of the hidden ways. As Menlo mused in silence, his eyes caught a flicker of motion from the girl-child.

Their eyes could see what mortal eyes could not. And Menlo leaned forward, to assure himself that his gaze was not lying. No. He was seeing true, of course; those truly were tiny, fledgeling wings twitching at the child's shoulder blades.

"So soon?" Menlo drew a deep breath, mouthing a curse silently. "She shouldn't be developing this quickly. Are you sure you performed the rituals right?"

Remiel's bluer-than-blue eyes were tired and weary, even as he rolled them at his timeless friend. "Children in this age mature faster than they did those eons ago, my friend. It is only natural that she does as well." Remiel rested his hand upon the child's head, smoothing her thick, dark hair away from her face. She was beautiful, even at that age. "I need your help to clip her."

Menlo could only nod. How many times had they done this together? Menlo had lost count of the sons and daughter they'd molded, some into heroes, some into villains, many into legend. But this child was different. There was a change in the way Remiel looked at her, a softness and emotion in his eyes that Menlo was unaccustomed to seeing in the normally rational and logical angel. For a few moments, Menlo struggled to put a name to it, but it wasn't until Remiel unsheathed his silvered angel-blade that the word came unbidden to his mind.

Love.

Remiel loved the child. And love was a dangerous emotion for an angel to feel.

Menlo steeled himself, and laid his hand upon his friends. Together, they drew breath and intoned the ritual that would bind and seal the child's power until she came of a responsible age.

"So we bound you..." Menlo was seated now, across the flickering flame wall from Kayla. "That was the last I would ever see of your father. We parted ways that night. He was killed on his way home from that meeting."

Kayla was confused though. There were a few things she couldn't connect. "So you helped my dad, because you were his best friend... and now, you want... you want to kill me? Why?"

"There is no one left to teach you... no one left who remembers how to properly control your power." Menlo dropped his eyes, ashamed of his words. "So it's best for everyone if you were to die."

Kayla got up then, backing away from the circle. She denied the shield-bearer simply by shaking her head at him. Menlo rose as she backed away, pointing a finger at her.

"The bonds are fraying, child! Once the last threads come undone, you will destroy everything you care for!" He called after her as she turned away, tears shining in her eyes. She pushed between Sam and Dean, breaking into a run for the house in the distance. Sam started after her, but Dean stopped him with a quick grab.

"We need to figure out what to do with Smelly McSmellerson, here." Dean thumbed at the trapped angel.

Sam's answer was simple. "Banish him. I think we're through."

Dean nodded, and flipped his pocket knife open. While Dean worked on the banishing sigil, Bobby tagged after Sam on his way back to the house.

"Hold up a minute, son, I gotta question for you..."

Balthazar poured Castiel a cup of tea, even though he knew the other angel would not touch the stuff. "You know you are in what the humans call a win-win situation, right, Cass?"

Cass merely grunted, and turned in his path to pace back across the room once more. Balthazar poured a bit of cream into his tea, and pursed his lips in thought. In light of all of this new evidence, he really wanted to push for the girl's death some more, but the subject was a touchy one.

"If she dies, her soul goes to Purgatory, with all of the other godless monsters and creatures of heathen spawn... you open Purgatory and, voila, supercharged nephilim soul at your service." Balthazar was rather pleased with his tactful suggestion of killing the girl. "No messy world-destruction, no impossible feats of prowess and daring..."

"No." Castiel stopped pacing long enough to growl the word out. "Of course it had to be one of the Shriven, how could I be so blind?" Once more, he started pacing, turning as he reached the end of the room, and stalking past Balthazar once more. "There were only... three of them left in Heaven after Father disappeared. The rest had vanished, hidden."

Balthazar sighed, and waved his hand. "Can we get on with the pity party, Cass? This is highly unlike you. Remiel is dead, which means all nine of the deserters are accounted for. Kill the girl, then take her soul from Purgatory. It's simple, isn't it?"

"It would be easier to keep her alive. I need allies. People who will understand what I am doing and why I am doing it. You know this, Balthazar. I know this. If we can control her, maybe we can learn how to make mo-"

"No. No, no.." Balthazar spilled some of his tea in his haste to set it down, and get himself out of his seat. "We may have been young, and inexperienced back then, but you and I both remember what chaos happened when just a few of those things slipped their leashes!"

Castiel turned, and stepped forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Balthazar. "It's chaos now. God's grand plan is broken and shattered to dust. We have free will. A little more chaos may be just what we need."

"Honestly, now, Cass, you can't believe that." Balthazar tried again. He needed Cass to see sense, to think more long term, as they had always been taught. He wasn't about to examine the hypocrisy of his own thoughts, talking sense into Cass, who was trying to fulfill his duties, while he himself hid from everything he ever believed.

"I can. And I do." Castiel canted his head to one side, his eyes shifting out of focus for a fraction of a second. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Rachel needs me."

Balthazar stepped backward once, and raised his hands in surrender. Even if he didn't excuse upstart angel, Castiel was going to leave. As soon as Cass was gone, Balthazar heaved a huge sigh of relief. Perhaps what Cass' second in command needed him for, would distract him from his plans for a few days. Long enough for Balthazar to figure out a secondary plan of his own.

"I can't believe I let you two talk me into this." Dean grumbled softly, easing the Impala onto the exit ramp.

"It wasn't that hard, Dean." Sam smirked a little as Dean shot him a scowl. "All it took was two words: Sorority Girls."

In the back seat, Kayla muffled a laugh. It had been true, once Sam outlined the plan for getting some of her belongings from her school, Dean had been more than willing to participate. Basically, the boys had gone into the sorority house, and collected Kayla's clothes and possessions as evidence. They left behind anything non-essential, but grabbed a few things she'd specially requested. The real compartment in the trunk was now filled with a few trash bags that held her clothes. Sam had grabbed her laptop and iPod as a second thought. All the while, Kayla hid in the Impala.

"Yeah, okay, I can get that part, but seriously, back to the homestead? What are we thinking?" Dean continued to gripe as he took the turns into the city proper. "This one?"

"Yup." Sam answered before Kayla could, glancing down at the GPS display on his phone. He glanced back with an apologetic smile once he'd realized his rudeness. She shrugged and dismissed it, and shifted in her seat again. Getting her clothes had given her the opportunity to change out of the oversized things she'd borrowed at Bobby's, and now that she had on a properly-sized shirt, and jeans, she appeared slimmer and more petite than ever.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb, in front of the small brownstone house. "We ready for this?" He asked, throwing his arm over the seat to study Kayla. When she nodded, he pointed at her. "Remember, WitPro, or something like it."

She nodded. "I saw too much, and can't come home. Right." She took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Closure, that's what she was going for. Sam understood, even as he straightened his tie, and made a quick visual check of the block. Dean came around and joined him taking up position on either side of Kayla. Together, they marched her up the walk, to the sound of a barking dog. This time, when the door swung open, the dog came bounding out onto the walk, wagging its tail so hard it's entire body shook.

Kayla immediately dropped to her knees and let the golden retriever slobber all over her face. In between enthusiastic doggie-kisses, she roughly tousled fur with both hands. While Sam watched the interplay of girl and dog with a nostalgic smile, Dean was focused on the little boy who'd opened the door. He appeared to be about ten years old, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was completely ignoring the presence of the two men in suits, and instead, raised his voice in a tremendous "MOOOOOOM!" that brought footsteps running through the house.

Amy Druin and another man appeared in the doorway. The shock registered on their faces, and Amy broke from the trio to run down the walkway. Her steps were dogged by her husband, Rick, and their son, only a few moments behind. Dean stepped back and looked away, knowing that watching the reunion would bring back too many unhappy memories. Even Sam's smile faded, as he watched Kayla caught up in the embrace of her family, with a happy dog bouncing around their legs.

"Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you." Rick had broken away from the reunion after a few minutes, to approach the brothers. He offered a hand to both of them in turn, and received a heartfelt handshake. "Thank you for bringing Kayla back to us."

Dean glanced at Sam, who seemed unable to say what they had to say. Taking a deep breath, Dean forged forward. "Actually, I'm afraid she won't be able to stay."

As his words registered, a soft wail rose up from Amy. Kayla was instantly trying to soothe her, her joyful embrace immediately changing tone. Rick's face darkened considerably, and he squared his shoulders in an unconscious effort to match the height of the two men standing before him.

"You'll have to explain yourselves." He demanded. "What do you mean she can't stay?"

The hostile reaction brought Sam's mind around to the problem at hand. "Kayla's been witness to a rather... unique crime, sir. We'll be placing her in protective custody until arraignments can be made with Witness Protection. Due to the circumstances, you and your family are in no danger at all..."

Behind them, Kayla had gently disengaged from her aunt, and was sending the woman over to be with her husband. Her cousin was wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her hip, holding on for dear life. Wiggling his arms free, she fell to her knees so he could throw his arms around her neck instead. Squeezing him tightly, she rocked gently.

"Mikey, I have a super important job for you." She received a sniffle in reply, and a muffled answer that couldn't be understood. Taking him by the shoulders, she held him out to look him in the face. "I need you to take care of Samson for me. You're the only one I trust. Can you do that for me?"

Mikey's eyes shifted to the retriever sitting nearby. The dog's tail thumped on the walk, and his ears perked up hopefully. Mutely, the ten-year-old nodded. Kayla held up her fist, getting a slight smile from her cousin. He raised his own and tapped his knuckles to hers, drawing back their hands, they both extended their thumb and forefinger into a mock-gun shape and pointed at one another.

Sam was spinning a few good lines of bull to soothe the fears of the family, while Dean headed over to Kayla. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he called her attention away, and nodded slightly. Kayla rose slowly. She had spent much of the drive down coming to terms with the idea of leaving her whole life behind and starting a new one. She thought she was ready, but now that the time came to do the actual leaving, she couldn't bring herself to take the first steps. It all started with acceptance.

Walking away from her aunt, uncle and cousin meant that she was accepting the fact that she was not human in the slightest sense of the word. It meant that she believed every word of what Sam and Dean told her: the Apocalypse averted, the Mother of All monsters escaped her prison, a blue-eyed angel in a trenchcoat who believed she was his salvation. Sam's voice broke her from her thoughts.

"Go get what you need, Kayla. Five minutes." Only he could make an order sound gentle. Kayla felt her limbs freed from the paralysis of indecision, and she took Mikey's hand to head into the house for a few minutes.

Amy clung to her husband, and even though Rick was trying to be strong, he could feel his eyes clouding with tears. "Hey." Rick turned suddenly, pulling Amy around with him, to face Sam, the man he thought of as Agent Van Zandt. "Take care of her. Keep her safe. Please."

"We will." Sam promised, nodding, but watching Kayla as she came out of the house. Mikey tagged along behind her, sniffling still but trying to put on a brave face. Sam repeated himself, as she turned and knelt down to give her cousin a long hug. Goodbyes took longer than the greetings, and it was nearly twenty minutes later that Kayla let herself be packaged into the Impala and driven off.

Rick and Amy stood with their arms around each other until the car was long vanished. Samson and Mikey had gone back into the house, leaving them alone with their thoughts. Rick looked over at his wife, and allowed himself a small smile.

"Crowley isn't going to like this, is he?" he asked her softly, placing his lips against her forehead.

"Not in the least..." Amy answered. "You get to tell him this time."