No sooner had we heaved open the front door to the bunker, Cas was in front of us.
"Maya. Are you alright?"
His brows were knitted together, his mouth a tight line. I could see Sam below us; he gave me an apologetic look.
"I'm fine, Cas," I tried to reassure him with a smile.
"Have you healed fully?"
"Yes, Cas, really, I'm peachy. Thanks to you, anyway,"
He finally let us descend the stairs, and flopped himself down on one of the hard chairs in the war room.
"I didn't think you would ever hear me. I almost gave up hope. Phanuel convinced that I had to keep going; I'm sorry I thought that way."
"Hey. It's okay, Cas, I almost gave up too. But I heard you, and here I am now. Thank you."
He smiled meekly.
"Phanuel." Dean said. "Never heard that name before."
"He's a friend, very much like me; he agreed to help me find you and protect you. You do have some allies in heaven."
I let out a breath. "Well, that's a relief."
"Kushiel. Did you learn anything from him? Cas asked carefully.
"They thought I was a nephil," I sat down, the angel in front of me.
"As I suspected,"
"Then they looked into my parents… I don't know what they think I am now. Whatever I am, they don't like it,"
"Whatever you are? Maya, you're human, these guys have got it all… mixed up,"
Sam's voice sounded from where he was leaning against the doorway. I saw Dean nod his agreement.
"Yeah, I mean, you're human. Maybe if we tell 'em that…"
Cas' eyes flashed. "No. We tell them nothing. You may be human, but if you can do what we can do… they believe you are a threat to them, and to the entire world. Just as they would view a Nephilim... Dean, what happened to your face?"
He'd finally looked at Dean and I smiled a little at his surprise.
"Later. So what in the hell do we do?" Dean looked at Cas and then to me.
"They will try and convince you to give yourself up, get sent to heaven…"
"Yeah, but what do we do?"
Cas didn't respond.
"Hey, you,"
She was leaning against the doorway, dressed in her old black leggings and a too-big sweater. It slid down her shoulder, skimming her pale skin. Her face was glowing in the warm light emanating from his small, brass lamp.
She waved a little box in his general direction.
"Come to patch me up, huh?"
"Mmhm. Scooch."
He slid over to one side of the bed, and she took her place next to him, legs folded under her. Dean watched her unclasp the box and take a few strips of white material. She poured something over them.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, leaning closer to him.
He winced as the cold cotton touched the gash on his eyebrow.
"Never mind."
He could smell her perfume, the smell he'd come to find solace in. Her body lotion, her shampoo, too. Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth, and her face was set in a frown.
"Couple of butterfly stitches should do it." Her hand moved from his eyebrow to brush the bruise on his cheek, her touch lingering. His breath hitched as her soft thumb traced his lip, slightly swollen.
His eyes snapped shut.
"I'm sorry we couldn't find you."
His words caught me off guard. I looked at the crease of his forehead, the purple bruises straining under his tan skin, the darkness under his eyes. So tired. "You don't have to apologise,"
"No, I do. We got lazy, My, complacent. You ended up paying the price for it,"
I toyed with his sleeve, the material warm and familiar between my fingers.
"I'm okay, though, Dean, it worked out,"
A gravelly laugh escaped his lips. "That's not what it's about,"
"Then-"
"How long were you there? How many days did you wake up and have him touch touch you, have him hurt you? You might not have any scars on your skin, but those things he did to you? He didn't do them because they caused you physical pain, Maya."
"Dean, please. The only thing that gets me through is knowing that I got away." I thought about Kushiel. So beautiful, breathtaking even, in the glowing light of those candles. I thought about the way his touch made my skin burn and my eyes stream. The smooth baritone of his voice in my ear, raising my skin into goosebumps. The way he got angry, and the power that radiated from him, making the air ripple and my stomach turn to lead.
"So help me god I will find every last person you care about and you will watch them die,"
"Twice."
His voice broke my reverie.
"Twice I've let you go. Twice, you've been hurt because of me. Never again. I didn't think Sam and me needed anybody else, I thought we were good the way we were. Then you."
I shook my head.
"It's not good for you to be here. I'm not good enough. I should have protected you... but twice... twice I let you down,"
I could feel my eyes prickling, the sting of tears threatening to fall. How could someone as good as Dean feel such a burden of self loathing? Dean, with his gruff laugh and his rough hands and his warm heart. His picnics and his hands that grazed my skin and the woody scent of his cologne that lingered on your clothes and in the air long after he'd left you. I took his face in my hands then, and willed him to look at me. His green eyes heavy with all that he'd seen and all that he feared he'd see.
"You are good, Dean Winchester, and god help me you shouldn't need me to tell you. I wish you could see that, I wish you could... trust yourself. There is nobody, nobody in this world that hasn't made mistakes. You are shaped by the decisions you make Dean, and those decisions make you a good man. I trust you, Dean, and I believe in you. I know you don't need validation from me, but I want you to know."
Then, his mouth found mine clumsily; he sucked in a breath as my lips grazed the cut that marred his perfect skin. I ran my hands through his hair, shaking fingers wrapping around soft tufts of dirty blonde. His hand found my cheek, wet with tears now, and a calloused thumb rubbed them away. His body moved closer to mine, easing me backwards, his mouth moving from my lips to my exposed shoulder. The warmth of his body against mine was melting away all the pain, illuminating the darkness. We moved in sync, breathing in unison. His shirt came tumbling to the ground, my sweater, his jeans. I could feel his heartbeat now, where my hand rested on his bare chest. Every movement, every sigh, every kiss seeping into my soul and erasing every nightmare, every fear, every threat. I willed it not to end.
He fell down next to me, breathing heavy, eyes hooded. His body shifted to rest a head near my shoulder. He traced a finger across my stomach, where a scar should have warped my skin, and I planted a kiss in his hair.
"Thank you," he said, letting his eyes close.
I reached for the blanket that had slipped to the floor, draping it over our tired bodies.
"Good night, Dean."
I yawned awake, stretching my back and legs under the warmth of the duvet. My hand reached over to the other side of the bed, but Dean wasn't there. Slipping out from beneath the covers, I shivered a little at the change in the temperature, then slipped my clothes back on and padded to the kitchen.
"Mornin' angel," He was perched on the kitchen table, coffee in hand, in front of Sam whose brow was furrowed over the laptop.
"You're up early. Planning something?" I sat down next to Sam, peering over at his laptop. "Whatcha doin?"
Sam took a second before responding. "Finding ways to kill angels."
I felt my face crease. "But we know how to kill an angel, right?"
Sam looked to his brother. "An angel. One or two..."
"We're talkin' large-scale..." Dean finished.
The penny took longer than it should have to drop. "You're talking all out war." It wasn't a question.
Sam placed a warm hand on his shoulder, his face softening. "We've gotta do whatever it takes to end this, to get you out of their line of fire."
"This ain't gonna end until someone's dead, and it ain't gonna be you."
I pursed my lips. "This is impossible. You're gonna take down all of heaven and earth? With three of us?"
"That's the thing," Sam said, new found resolution wrapping round his words. "We don't have to kill them all. We just want to send a message to the ones that are left: 'Don't mess with us, because you will lose'"
"We're gonna draft in some reinforcements, people to help."
"No. Nobody dies for me. Nobody." I looked at them pointedly as I spoke, months of fear and anxiety churning in my stomach, flushing my cheeks. "We deal with this. I deal with this."
"Maya, come on. Don't you wanna kick this thing?" Dean bent down close to me, his eyes on mine. He didn't want to say it out loud, but his face gave it away: Please don't give up. Please don't leave us.
A wary smile graced my lips. "Ok. We'll fight. I'm done being worried to leave the bunker. First time in months I get to work a job and wham... right into their hands. That's not happening again."
The brothers smiled, Sam patted me on the shoulder. I watched as Dean's expression grew steely, his jaw tightened, his eyes flashed. I felt all the warmth and lightness from last night drain away from me, replaced by dread. I wanted to reach out to Dean, to take him back to that place, too. This morning should have been coy smiles, hands intertwined under the table, sharing a paper. Instead, we got this. We didn't get more than a night to be normal.
Dean stood tall. "Let's do this, then."