Something wasn't right, Dean could feel it. Ever since that night when she'd patched him up, that perfect night where he felt like everything was alright in the world and that they were invincible. That was three days ago, and for some reason he felt further away from her now than he ever had.

He kissed her again, the night they'd agreed to fight, and she smiled into it, her hand gripping his arms and her fingers laced with his. When he kissed her the following morning, she seemed sad, distant, as though his touch was hurting her. Something wasn't right.

Five days after my night with Dean, and four days after my vision, we travelled to Sioux Falls to meet with Jody Mills. Dean said we needed a game plan that we were all in on- a co-ordinated attack, and I sat in the back of the Impala, letting the rumble of the car and the winding of the roads lull me to sleep. I dreamt of the angels, our all-out war: myself, bloodied and bruised, standing in the middle of a field scorched with wing-shaped burns, an angel blade on the floor next to me. I laughed.

I dreamt of Dean, him and I in a kitchen I didn't recognise, drinking red wine and laughing, something simmering on the stove. There's a knock at the door and we greet Sam, our smiles reach our eyes. We eat, we laugh, we talk about our days. I knew then, that what the angels had shown me couldn't happen, that this is what I had to fight for. Cas made me promise not to let them win, and before, I wasn't sure if I meant it. Now I did.

"Maya, we're here." Sam's voice pulled me out of my dream. I rubbed my eyes, my joints still stiff from sleeping, and we pulled up outside what I presumed was Jody's house. Dean opened the door for me and I slipped out of the backseat, taking a breath of mild dusk air. I felt my mouth stretch into a yawn I couldn't stifle, and Dean gave me a crinkly eyed smile.

"Still tired, angel?"

"Always."

I slipped my hand into Dean's and let him lead me to the front door, following close behind Sam. The sky was darkening and warm lights from inside the house pooled on the freshly cut grass: It reminded me of my house when I was growing up, a real house, and I felt myself smile fondly.

Sam hadn't even raised a hand to knock when the front door flew open and he was pulled into a hug from who I presumed was Sheriff Mills.

"Sam, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Jody."

She peered around Sam. "Dean Winchester, get your butt over here." He was pulled into an equally warm embrace, and I shuffled awkwardly now I was standing by myself.

"You must be Maya." Jody turned her attention to me. She had a warm, kind face, but I sensed a sternness behind that smile that she could utilise when she needed to. Just like a mom. Was she a mom?

"Hi, Jody, it's so good to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." I held out my hand, but she pushed it aside, instead wrapping her arms around me in a way I hadn't felt since my mom died. I felt a little choked.

"Any friend of the Winchesters is a friend of mine." She pulled away, smiling, and I felt Dean's hand slip back into mine.

"I made Tacos," Jody gestured to the kitchen. "I hope you like tacos."

We sat around Jody's dinner table, filling our faces with Mexican food, making small talk, waiting. Waiting for somebody to bring up what we were really here for. Cas had joined us now, and sat next to me a little awkwardly, watching us all eat.

It was Jody that brought it up. I felt my appetite disappear. I looked across at Dean, still eating, expecting for that look of grim determination sweep across his features, instead he looked excited, hopeful.

"We gotta make the first move," he looked at me pointedly. "It's no good sitting around waiting for them to do somethin',"

Sam nodded. "Last time, we tried to hide Maya, thinking it was protecting her, but we realised pretty soon that it was bad for us all. Then we let our guard down and bam," I jumped as he slammed his hand on the table. "They strike."

"I called a few local hunters; I've worked with them all a couple times. They said they'd be willing to lend a hand."

"Wow, Jody, that's great. Right Maya?" I couldn't bare the optimism on Sam's face.

I dropped my eyes. I thought back to what I'd said in the kitchen, the morning after the night before, where all the hope I'd started to feel was drained out of me: Nobody dies for me. I meant it. I meant it. Now what? Now even more people are involved, now we're going to war? And for what? For me.

I nodded.

"How do we do this, then? How do you plan to take out all these angels?"

"There is a spot, a place where the distance between Heaven and Earth is smallest. The only way we can draw the Angels out is to bring Maya there. They want to her to give herself up to them, to join them in Heaven. They have to think she is handing herself over, that everything they've done to her will work."

"They'll only send a couple Wings down to pick her up. We take them out with our angel blades, then, when they figure out what's going on, they'll send more." Sam's face was determined, his brow furrowed, but there was a glint in his eye.

"That's when we fire up the Molotov's." Dean said simply.

"Hang on… Molotov's?"

"Angel Molotov's… instead of booze, we use holy oil."

Jody paused for a second, her mouth half open in contemplation. "You know… that's just stupid enough to work."

Dean tilted his bottle at her.

"You do realise, though," Jody held up a finger. "That you're using her as bait. You sure you're okay with that?"

Dean's face turned sour, his jaw clenched. "I can't think of anything worse, but we have to end this." Dean looked to me, his forehead creased, and took a long pull on his beer.

"And you're okay with this?" Jody turned to me, now, and I nodded, as though I'd never been more okay with something in my life. I hadn't.

"Being bait? I don't mind one bit, in fact I'm happy to do it. What I'm not okay with is everyone else taking on this fight for me. If I could just- '

"No. No way-" Dean held his hands up.

"You don't have to die for me-"

"Yes we do!" he pushed himself from his chair, wood scraping against wood as he stood up. "Yes we do. You don't get to decide what we fight for! You think we're just gonna let you get on with this, huh? Like it's better for us if you weren't here? The martyr thing don't work with us, angel, cause it's a card we've played too many times. You don't get to decide." He didn't look at any of us, he simply picked up his beer and left.

I stayed silent. I wanted to go after him, but I knew he wouldn't want me to, not yet. We finished our food and broke the silence with unimaginative small talk, and I helped Jody clear the table and load the dishwasher. She put a warm hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay,"

"Is it? Why should I be able to accept this so easily?"

"You shouldn't."

"Dean of all people knows how difficult it is to put people on the line for your own sake, why should I be any different?"

The corner of her mouth pulled up. "Dean loves hard. He doesn't even think about himself, that doesn't matter to him. But someone else? Different story." Jody gave me a knowing smile. The dishwasher started humming in the background.

My stomach jolted when she mentioned love. I ignored it.

"Go talk to him. I think he's brooded enough." I gave her a grateful smile.

It was pouring with rain, now, and I followed the pathway from Jody's front door to the Impala. I could see him sitting on the driver's side, the light from the street-lamp casting shadows on his face, something silver glistening between his fingers. He didn't look at me when I opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

"Hey, handsome,"

He didn't look at me, just fidgeted with the cap of his hip flask.

"I'm scared." I said quietly. I didn't look at him, but I could sense him tense up. "Are you scared?" He said nothing again, instead, he unscrewed the cap of his hip flask and handed it to me. I took a swig. It burned as it travelled down my throat; I felt my cheeks flush.

"I'm sorry I pushed you,"

"You don't need to apologise. You didn't do anythin' wrong, the universe did." His voice was gentle but gruff, the drink taking the edge off his sharpness.

"The universe is a dick."

"I'll drink to that." He did.

My hand found his thigh, the way it always did when I wanted to reassure him. I squeezed, the way I always did.

"I was being selfish, earlier. I didn't want to have to live with the pain of being without you and the guilt of it being my fault, but you shouldn't have to, either."

"I've lost too many people, My. I can't risk losing you, too. Not now, not after…" He shook his head. "Not when we have the chance for something better than this, you know? I'd thought about it before: the apple pie life, the picket fences, a nine to five. But I never thought it'd actually happen, that I'd ever really have somethin' to give this life up for. Now I can see it, really see it. Tell me you see it too."

My breath caught in my throat- my words, too. His eyes were glossy, and I realised his own hand was now on top of mine, his fingers gripping my own.

"I see it, too."

"We gotta see this through, angel, cause you're worth fightin' for… that future's worth fighting for."

"Then we fight. You, me, Sam, Cas- all of us. We give 'em hell, and we don't stop giving them hell."