Something was dripping in the corner of the room. The sound was magnified in the silence after Piper's declaration. Castiel stared at her evenly, but she was too furious to pull her eyes from his.

"You will not bow down?" he asked icily.

"Never."

"Come on, Piper," Bobby said reasonably, placating. "Cass, you want us down on our knees? Or are you more 'forehead to the carpet?'"

Without taking her eyes from the angel's, Piper sneered. "I'd rather-"

"What's the point?" Cass interrupted. "What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear."

"Cass-" Sam began.

"Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back."

"Oh, so now you've got thoughts on loyalty?" Piper snarled.

"Come on, Cass," Dean said softly as he came to stand next to Piper. He put one arm out in front of her, as if to keep her from lunging at the angel. "This ain't you."

"The Castiel you knew is gone."

Piper snorted, but managed to keep her mouth shut. She had no idea where the reckless anger coursing through her veins had come from, but she was furious.

"So, what then?" Dean asked. "Kill us?"

Cass tilted his head. "What a brave little ant you are. You know you're powerless, you wouldn't dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So no, I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides…" His eyes drifted over to land on Piper. "Once, you were my favorite pets, before you turned and bit me."

She stared at him incredulously, anger keeping her warm where fear should have been freezing her insides. "Who even are you?"

"I'm god," he said simply. "And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom." He looked away from her, and the closest thing to a smirk that she'd ever seen was on his face. "Not doing so well, are you, Sam?"

Piper whipped around to stare at Sam. She hadn't gotten to get a good look at him, and she felt her fury start to take a backseat when she saw him. "Sam?" she whispered, taking a step toward him.

He was pale as hell, sweaty, and looked like he was barely able to stay standing. He swayed a bit on his feet as he coughed wetly. "I'm… I'm fine."

"You promised you would fix him!" Dean snapped.

"If you stood down, which you hardly did," Cass corrected imperiously. "Be thankful for my mercy. I could have cast you back into the pit." The last was directed at Sam.

"Cass," Dean pleaded, and the desperation in his voice started to get through to Piper. Her husband was as upset as she was. "Come on! This is nuts! You can turn this around, please!"

"I hope for your sake," Castiel said forebodingly, "this is the last you see of me."

With that, he vanished.

Piper turned to Sam to check on him, but wasn't able to get to him before collapsed to the ground.


Dean kept a lid on his anger until they got back to Bobby's. He stayed quiet while they loaded an unconscious Sam into his bedroom and got him comfortable. He didn't say anything as they ate a quick, strained dinner, or when Bobby said an early good night and went to bed himself.

Piper knew, of course. They'd known one another for over fifteen years, and had been together for almost five of those. Dean wasn't surprised that Piper knew, nor was he surprised that she waited until they were alone to say something.

"Dean, I-"

"I thought," he interrupted harshly as he sat down on their bed, "that I kinda got why you were mad when I sold my soul for Sammy," and dammit, why was that still so hard to talk about? "And when I went to that doctor who killed me, so I could talk to Death. I thought I got it, I really did." He barked out a humorless laugh. "I guess I really do get it now, huh?"

"Dean-"

"You know, Pipes," he continued, heedless of her words as he untied his boots and tossed them under the bed, "every goddamn time I do something stupid, you're right there to remind me that it was stupid. You've been preaching to us about being reckless for years now, and the first fucking chance you get, you mouth off to god?!"

As he stood and whipped his shirt off, still too angry to look at her, he heard her say meekly, "It wasn't really god, it was just Cass."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, Cass all hopped up on every fucking soul in purgatory." He yanked his jeans off, too, before sitting back down on the bed to kick them onto the floor. "Jesus fucking Christ, Piper, you think semantics is what you should be arguing right now?"

"I just-"

He shook his head, resting his hands next to his hips on the bed. "Pipes," he said softly, and he hated how rough his voice sounded, how low and upset it was. "I had to watch you talk your way into almost getting fucking smote today. I just…" He rubbed a hand hard down his face. His whole body hurt from being tossed around, especially his back, although that probably had something to do with being on the other side of thirty. He didn't want to deal with this. "I just can't do this right now."

Her silence said everything he needed to hear, and for the first time since the night they'd fallen into bed together, Dean went to bed without touching his wife at all.

As he stared at the wall, his body aching and his heart pounding in his chest, he listened to her settle in for bed behind him. When she finally got under the blankets, she didn't move closer. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered.

"I know, Pipes."

He didn't fall asleep for a long time, and he didn't sleep easy, either.


When Piper was frustrated with herself, she had a few coping mechanisms she usually went to first.

Unable to sleep several hours after lying down, she slipped into one of her flannels (somehow, it didn't feel right to take one of Dean's just then) and a pair of leggings and went down into the kitchen.

First, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from above the refrigerator and poured a few fingers into a tumbler. She didn't slam it back like she had earlier in the day, but sipped at it while she sat at the table, her bare feet kicked up onto the chair across from her. She let the liquor seep into her belly and warm her, easing the pains she'd gotten from the day.

Once she'd gotten about halfway through the glass, she stood up and started to bake.

There were a couple of advantages to baking a pie in the middle of the night. The first, of course, being that Dean loved pie, and sometimes just having some around eased his mind for a few moments. While that was definitely an advantage she had in mind, she didn't do it just for that. Pie wasn't going to make him forgive her, and she didn't want it to. She just wanted to do something nice for him, because even outside of the argument they'd had, the last few days had been really bad, and he'd been there for her every step of the way.

Only for you to let him down at the last minute, she thought nastily to herself.

The second advantage of baking a pie in the middle of the night was that no one else was up, so she had the kitchen to herself. She hummed softly and took sips of her whiskey intermittently as she kneaded the dough for the crust, possibly with more force than strictly necessary.

And the third advantage was that she'd made so many pies that she had the recipes for many of them perfectly memorized, so she didn't really have to think about what she was doing. Which left her mind free to think of her predicament.

She knew she was in the wrong this time. There was a time and a place for being hot-headed, for thinking with one's heart instead of one's head, and confronted with a souped-up Castiel who was already irritated with them? Probably wasn't that time or place. She'd acted without real thought, and her impulsivity could have not only gotten herself killed, but the three people on the planet who she loved most.

Fuck.

The sun was peeking over the horizon as she slid the first pie into the oven.

Dean was right to be mad, and as much as it broke her heart, she knew she'd have to give him his space. Her husband had always been the type of man who wanted silence around him when he was angry, who wanted to be alone with his Impala or a beer and just think.

Just after she started the coffee maker, Bobby came into the kitchen, scrubbing his face with one hand. "Mornin', Pi."

"Good morning, Bobby," she said softly, subdued.

He stared at her for a long minute, then sighed. "Come on out to the front, kiddo."

She poured them each a cup of coffee, doctored hers the way she liked it and poured a splash of whiskey into Bobby's, then followed him out to the porch in front of the house. After handing him his mug, they both leaned against the railing, staring out into the yard.

"You know," he said after a long time, "you've never really been the kind of idjit who ran off and did something stupid like you did last night."

She winced. "I know."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Aw, shut up. I'm not sayin' I think you were in the wrong. Hell, you've got bigger balls than I do. God knows I was thinking about kneeling for the bastard."

"It was stupid, Bobby," she argued. "I could have gotten all of us killed."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you could have. Don't mean you weren't right."

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't right. There were better, more delicate ways to handle the situation. That I should have handled the situation. I just…" She sighed. "Bobby, I was so mad."

"Well, the angel's fucked up big time. Makes sense that you were mad."

She groaned and dropped her head to hang between her shoulders. "I'm not used to being the bad guy."

He chuckled. "Nah, you're pretty damn close to perfect, Pi." His voice sobered a little. "Hard to imagine Dean'll be mad for long."

"I'm also not used to that."

"It'll be good for you kids. See how your other half lives."

She looked back up to the yard, blinking back tears. "I hate this."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tight. His comforting smell of gun oil and whiskey washed over Piper, making her relax just a little. "He'll come around."

She leaned into him. "I know."


Dean woke up late that morning, closer to afternoon, to the whole house filled with an incredible scent.

Piper's stress baking, he thought giddily, a beat before he remembered the night before.

He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling. He knew without considering too hard that he'd already forgiven her. Hell, if there was anyone who could understand being impulsively stupid when angry, it was Dean himself. He thought his anger had probably been a little hypocritical in hindsight.

He rolled out of bed and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. If he was going to owe Piper an apology, he wanted to get it out of the way early so she might give up some of the pie he could smell cooling in the kitchen. He winced as he walked around, because he still hurt, and he was still exhausted. He hoped that was coffee he was smelling along with the pie.

He trudged down the stairs and was greeted with the sight of his wife cradling a cup of coffee to her chest, staring out the kitchen window. Her pretty face was drawn and pale with exhaustion and leftover emotion. He felt a pang of guilt for putting it there.

He came up behind her and hesitantly put his hands on her hips. The wave of relief that washed through him when she leaned back into his chest was immense. He buried his face in her hair and opened his mouth to apologize, but she beat him to it.

"I'm really sorry," she said softly. "I totally get why you're mad, and I'll get out of your hair so you can eat breakfast, but I want you to know that I'm sorry."

When she tried to move away, he tightened his arms to keep her where she was. "Pipes, babe…" He sighed. "I probably overreacted."

She snorted. "You definitely didn't. Unless I overreact every time you do something stupid."

He chuckled into her hair. "I'm just saying, water under the bridge, baby. Sorry I yelled."

She turned in his arms, and the glint in her hazel eyes hit him with a warm punch in his solar plexus. "Well, I can think of a few ways we can make up," she purred.


Hours later, Piper was curled against Dean's side, head resting on his bare chest. They'd taken one of the several pies she'd made (and some ibuprofen) back up to their bedroom and had proceeded to find ways to apologize to one another with mouths and fingers and warm apple filling. Once they were both sated and properly worshipped, they'd taken a scalding shower together, where they'd made love again.

As she rested on his chest, drawing light, idle patterns on his stomach with gentle fingers, Piper just basked in him for a moment. Oh, everything was still shot to shit. Sam was still out of commission, Cass was still out there somewhere, wreaking havoc, and they didn't even have Baby back from the warehouse yet (although one of Bobby's contacts was picking her up and dropping her off that day). For now, though, in their warm bedroom that smelled like apple pie and sex, she felt as close to all right as she could.

And for now? She'd take it.


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