In the Lethe Series 2

by teaandchess

Three years have past after the events of In the Lethe, when Castiel made his choice to save a demon and the Winchesters made theirs to save one other. All that Dean, Sam and Castiel have fought for to save friends, lovers and family has started to fall apart. Old enemies begin to stalk those that they love and so it comes down to a choice. It will always come down to a choice.

4. Change (When Angels Try)

Summary: Investigating the 100-Mile leads Dean and Castiel to a horrific discovery about what has come out of Purgatory. Stuck in the bunker, Meg struggles with what she should believe and Sam tries to understand his strange feelings of pain and loss.

---

Part 4: Change (When Angels Try)

Sitting alone with the edge of the bar digging into his stomach was not how he had planned to spend the night at first. But after a few drinks, he'd decided that there were worse ways to spend it than drinking and trying to find some company. Being alone, miserable and wallowing in self-pity the way he always did this time of year? That would only make him feel worse. Here at least it looked like he was trying to give a damn. It looked like he was trying.

Without even looking into the bar's mirror, Castiel knew what he looked like: a drunk human who hadn't shaved or bathed in a few days. He could barely lift his own head with the headache he had and thanks to his hangover his stomach was already churning and making a sour feeling crawl up to his mouth. He spied his phone, still vibrating away on the bar as text after text, call after call from Dean and from Sam came through. He had told them he'd be back in an hour.

That had been three days ago.

Sometimes it was better to drown his own misery for a while in a bottle or sleep it away. It wasn't often that he didn't have to deal with hunts, the long hours on the road, the angels, the demons, the research and the blood. It wasn't often that he didn't think of how he had lost what he was in one stupid moment of misplaced trust. How he had lost what he had, all because he needed to give them up or see them dead.

Castiel had allowed himself one week to do what he wanted. There was nothing to stop him anymore. No feeling of Grace nagging at him that he had to toe the line. He was a plain and simple human now, had been for over a year now. He was a human who would do what all humans did, he decided angrily. He would let himself find comfort like a human, drink like a human, submit to urges like a human. Eventually, he'd age, wither, remember the good old days, and ultimately die.

Though the way he was already drunk — he was slowly getting every more into a stupor — was giving him that false hope that he could forget it all for a few hours.

"Tired, handsome?" the bartender asked, leaning across the bar to pour him a shot and giving him a sympathetic smile. He'd gone to a smoky old bar this time, not minding the people here that went around looking for company and would always stop to see if he was willing. People who always moved on when they realized how hollow that search was. He sympathized with them. But he'd learned to not ask questions and just listen to them. Like an absolution, feeling another's pain was part of what he needed.

Alcohol was cheaper in these small places, he had figured that out. He didn't have much money anyway but the last round of cheap shots helped keep his good buzz going. Getting drunk helped, he thought to himself, and he nearly felt like forgetting.

Castiel tilted the glass up, poured shot down his throat and tapped the bar for another. The bartender's fine eyebrows rose high and she eyed the row of empty shot glasses in front of him.

"Celebrating something?" she asked, grinning sidelong at him. "Haven't seen anyone knock that many back in an hour besides bachelor parties." She made a distasteful frown. "Or my ex when he dumped me."

Castiel hesitated, he always did, before blurting out, "It's an anniversary."

"Oh? Got married and regret it?"

His eyes flicked down to the row of glasses. "Never even thought about that. She would have gutted me," he slurred and then shook his head as her face swam before him. "Would've let her. She looked pretty in blood."

The bartender chalked that up to more drunk talk. Her job was to get as much cash out of him as possible without killing him with alcohol. Not try to figure him out.

"She? You weren't married?" She poured him another one but this time he simply toyed with the small glass.

"Lost them. I…" He hiccuped. "Made a choice. Lost 'em."

"Who? Wife?"

"My daughter and my… girlfriend." Castiel winced because damn, he could just picture Meg's look if he had ever said that to her face. "It's been a while now. I thought I was getting better. Even moved in for a few weeks with another woman just so I could feel something. Anything. Didn't work." Castiel spun the glass between his fingers, slopping alcohol onto his fingers. He slurped it off noisily and caught the woman's sympathetic look while his finger was in his mouth like a child. She gave him a sad smile.

"Sorry to hear that. An accident?"

He squinted, trying to remember the story he told everyone. "Something like that. Thought I was fine… and I'm worse off now than I was before." He wiped tiredly at his face. "I guess I just think about what could have been."

The bartender reached across and patted his hand before she poured him another drink. "Life's too short for if's and maybes. Maybe you should be celebrating the good times you had, rather than the bad, huh?"

His eyes caught and held hers and after a tense moment she withdrew her hand. "I'm off in ten minutes if you want to talk."

They always said they wanted to talk but he knew that was never going to happen.

He never let it happen.

Castiel just needed to forget and he didn't want to hear more humans tell him how he should feel.

It was just an hour later when his back was slammed against the cheap panel of the motel door and he heard her giggle as he stumbled against her. He let her mouth search his, tasting of tequila and mint gum. He could feel her fast movements, the hurried way she unzipped him and toyed with him. Trying to tease him in to responding and he lost his hesitancy as her warm body pressed into his.

He kissed her back, ran his hands down her breasts and felt the lushness of her curves and the way her velvety dark skin rippled when he touched her. He remembered to mutter back at her the words he knew to speak after some practice. Empty words they both moaned back and forth as they pushed against one another. Still he let a small part of himself remain distant; it felt like he was watching this happen from outside his own vessel. As she began to slip to her knees, pressing too-wet of kisses against his stomach on her way, he let his head loll back to stare at the ceiling. Drunk numb and already feeling guilt gnawing at him, he only felt some semblance to pleasure as nimble fingers unzipped his jeans. He remembered to act the part he was playing, remembered to stroke her face and moan as if he solely focussed on taking his pleasure from hers.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he couldn't just forget and end his own misery.

"Hey, wake up." Dean snapped his fingers in front of Castiel's face and it made him jump in surprise. "You've been brooding instead of helping and I was saying that we need to actually find the spot. But we're still here lurking around. You with me?"

"Of course I am. I just need a moment," the angel answered and he stood up from the seat he'd taken on an overturned tree. The 100-Mile, even in the fall sunlight, was a place where anyone could get easily lost. Even Castiel felt a little directionless with its enormity. Dean had insisted this was the right area but after an hour of going in circles with not a sign of anything strange, neither of them were so sure. So Dean had given up and called Sam for help but apparently his brother sounded a little drunk.

"Likely that pint-size is drinking him under the table and it's not even three pm yet," Dean had joked and he didn't seem to notice Castiel scowling.

The thought of Sam and Meg drinking together, irrationally had made Castiel a little jealous and he had never before felt that towards either of them. It wasn't because he felt threatened by the human; it was the thought that maybe Sam could get her to listen when he had failed at it. That Meg might reveal something, say something that would matter, and he wouldn't know what it was because he was out here out of pure cowardice.

Picturing Meg and Sam drinking had made Castiel regress to the events of the past few years. That memory of that "anniversary" had always stuck out because that had been the first time he hadn't felt guilt over what he'd done. He had needed it. It had been what he had needed just in time to help the angels recover Heaven. At the time he hadn't felt guilt but now he wasn't sure what he felt.

It felt like fear. Fear that maybe he wasn't ready to fight for this again. He hadn't wanted to stay in the bunker and be faced with Nyx and Meg when he still didn't know how to fix this.

Dean pocketed his phone and looked up at the sky. "Well, let's move on. Sam said his map shows that is further up."

Castiel stood, brushing his hands on his coat and followed the hunter through the underbrush, watching him struggle. It seemed like even the simplest of branches seemed to trip him.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally when Dean stumbled again.

"Yeah, you know me. Just a little thrown off." He made a gesture at his friend. "What with Castiel Airlines having turbulence."

"I'm usually much better at that but you don't seem like you are feeling well." Castiel stared at the back of his head thoughtfully. "I mean, you look well but you seem unbalanced by something."

"Hey." Dean turned and pointed up at his face. "Stop checking me out, my eyes are up here."

Castiel glared at him out of exasperation.

"We're going to talk about something else, you got me?" Dean continued. Realizing there was no point in arguing, Castiel waved his hand and let him walk a little ways ahead of him. This time he didn't say a word when he saw him stumbling a bit more than usual. "So, let's think this through." He lifted a hand in air and began to tick things off on his fingers.

Following him, Castiel made sure to be on guard as Dean rattled on.

"Rumour is that Purgatory is acting up and monsters got into Hell. Monsters are out in droves, demons are squirrelly, we think Azazel or something like him is out there, and now we got your baby momma and kid back full throttle." Catching his breath, Dean turned a bit to see where they were and let Castiel catch up beside him.

"You think that it is all connected?"

"Don't you?" Dean asked, and the angel looked at him with barely concealed annoyance.

"I hope for all our sakes, it isn't."

"Yeah, but you know that's wishful thinking. Life doesn't always go the way we want it." Dean shrugged and clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Let's go this way."

"You don't seem very sure about where you're going," Castiel said as he fell into line beside him.

"Come on, have I ever gotten us lost before?" That earned him a look that spoke volumes and he winced. "Okay, that one time."

"We ended up in a daycare instead of a vampire nest."

"Hey. Those kids bit me!" the hunter pointed out. Castiel rolled his eyes to the sky as if praying for help. "They did."

"They were children, Dean."

"Doesn't mean we were in the wrong place."

They glared at each other. "Maybe it would be better if we kept moving instead of arguing about this," Castiel said.

"Fine. But we're not lost."

Castiel waited until his back was turned before he shook his head. "I'll try to believe that."

"I heard that."

---

"Stupid! This was so goddamn stupid! Who said I wanted to be a writer!" Chuck shouted as he threw his research book on Hindu mythology to the other side of the room. It shattered the mirror he kept there in his study but he ignored the sound it made, the loud tinkling of shards littering his hardwood floors. He didn't care that he had just destroyed an antique; he was going to have his tantrum and like it.

"Piece of garbage!" He grabbed a globe and flung it at the wall next. "I can't do anything right!"

He continued to toss things around the room to try to make himself feel better, all the while trying not to notice the legal letter from his agent and editors. Anya, who hadn't shown her face in three years, had written to say his contract would be up if he couldn't produce a new spin-off series for Supernatural. He would be cooked in terms of a career. The sort of reputation he had in the writing world wouldn't get him a new contract either. He'd become a recluse and unless he was writing dramatic epics about either lawyers or young love in pseudo horror, then his career was as good as dead. Pulp cult novels weren't respectable enough anymore to let him write what he loved on his own time.

He hadn't written more than four sentences since ending the last Supernatural series.

"I hate this!" A paperweight crashed through his window next. "Why can't I write?"

He had played the story out in his head, the way he had every story. He knew it from start to end. He had had vision after vision. Epic battles in Heaven and Hell, the Winchesters smack in the middle, their ever-faithful angel pulled down to human level and then given his Grace back when things had seemed bleakest.

But with the Lethe's gates closed and no true touch leftover from original creation, he was stuck. Chuck had forgotten, the moment he had submitted his book, what he was. A creator.

He lost his momentum for writing slowly after the months, then years, when the Lethe was closed and he had nothing else to draw from He'd tried to be the happily drunk and eccentric writer he had been before. It was why he couldn't get over his own block. Every day he would get up and write the same four lines, over and over again.

There was a coming threat that the Winchesters had thought to never see again. Something so terrible that no one else counted on. But they did. They were ready for anything.

Except that worked in a happy world and he knew that the Winchesters would never get that. In his head, with what he knew, they wouldn't be scared of whatever villain that came at them normally. They'd already faced too many things to be scared of a simple monster or demon. There was nothing to tell a story about and he couldn't make himself write.

Childishly, he slumped to his desk and ran his fingers down his face, pulling at his own skin so the bags under his eyes were drawn out and his cheeks went gaunt. The hangover he had from the night before was pounding through his head again. He made a grotesque groaning sound and glared at the opposing book shelf.

"I bet you wish you saved all those notes. You forgot that without me there's no story left. You have nothing," a devious female voice murmured. An echo of the past but it reminded him of that day when he'd burned everything of Supernatural. All of his old notebooks, the first copies, posters, fan letters, and disks, all of them destroyed. Everything except for his laptop.

He even hated that thing and so it was gathering dust on his desk again.

More than anything, Chuck hated being a writer.

"I'm all tapped out," he grumbled as he rested his chin on his arms and stared ahead of himself. Maybe he needed a few more drinks or even a longer vacation. But, he thought wryly, wasn't three years long enough? Groaning, he tapped his fingers on his desk in irregular rhythm as he looked over the books leftover.

Still, the longer he stared at the book shelf the more a single thin binder wedged between two thick volumes caught his eye. He squinted at it and clicked his tongue thoughtfully a few times before finally getting up to see what it was. When his fingers brushed the torn plastic spine, he knew instantly what it was. The binder, tucked safely away between the family Bible and Divina Commedia, was one of his old Supernatural titles he hadn't published after Swan Song. It was the only copy he had printed out himself and kept. His editor had said it was too dark and that she thought it could use a thorough rewrite. The cover art itself, something he'd drawn, was gory and bizarre even for something out of his own imagination.

Flipping through the still crisp pages, Chuck skimmed it through. All the notes, the plot points he had marked in the margins, were still in bright red ink but he didn't remember making them at the time. Swaying a little as he started to absorb the story, he flipped to the middle of the manuscript and began to read through to see if it could spark something to make a story he could write again. A few sentences here and there caught his attention and as he headed back to his desk, he began to flip through to the part he had highlighted in yellow. His favourite part, he remembered excitedly.

It was just missing some new characters, that was all.

Reading on, his smile widened and he scrounged in his pockets until he found a pen to start making notes on the pages. Chuck shuffled back towards his desk, ignoring the paper strewn mess on the floor and the broken glass that dug into his socked feet.

With a writer's cruelty, he knew exactly what he was going to do to make this story work.

---

The silence was killing him. Dean listened to Castiel walking so quietly behind him, not responding to much that he said. They'd been walking for an hour now and the angel hadn't said more than two words. It was starting to bore him and the last thing he needed to be in a forest was distracted by how bored he was getting.

"Maybe we should talk about Meg and Nyx. What do you think? Going to keep pushing at them, pulling the usual angel thing, or are you going to wait it out?" Dean said conversationally over his shoulder to Castiel.

"Why should I want to talk about it?"

"Because you're my friend and I can hear you thinking even when I'm walking in front of you." Dean turned and began to walk backwards, grinning despite Castiel's annoyed look. "What's wrong with talking about it?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don't want to discuss this, Dean."

"We've been through too much not to talk about it." He poked his finger at him. "You got them back. You know how rare that is, especially in our world? Don't let Meg put you off and don't hide it. Not everyone gets a second chance. Maybe this is yours but you might screw it up."

"Since when are you so enthusiastic about Meg and I?" Castiel asked as he passed him. Dean shrugged. "From what I remember, you never liked the thought of our involvement."

"Guess I'm getting older and realizing time is short," he said candidly. "Or maybe I feel bad for that little girl. Sam and I had to deal with losing our parents, we were pretty young for our mom and even our dad was distant with us. It won't be any easier for her, despite being an adorable hell-spawn with an angel for a father."

Under his light tone, Castiel knew that Dean was scolding him.

"But having both of you might help her. You said Death told you that Meg was the right choice for protecting her as a baby. What about now?"

"We never went over those details." Castiel followed him down the closest path. "I'll deal with it my way."

"Oh yeah, sure." Dean rolled his eyes and ducked under a branch. "Because that always ends well with you."

The angel glared at him and the hunter smirked back.

"Keep glaring, Cas, you know I'm right."

"What do you propose?" Castiel snapped and he pushed by him. Every stride was angry and Dean had to jog to keep up. "That I get on my hands and knees and beg, as if I was still human, for a forgiveness I'm not certain I need? If I did need it would I deserve it? Or maybe I should make promises we both know I can never keep?" He squared his shoulders and it was easy for Dean to picture him spreading his wings in angry display. "Do I still seem like some weak human to you?"

"Nice insult, thanks. But I think Meg seeing you on your knees would likely get her abusing that power over you. I'm just saying don't give up on at least being in Nyx's life to protect her." Dean reached out and put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Kid's gonna need you in the long run."

There was no arguing with that logic. Castiel exhaled slowly and turned his back on Dean again. He needed time to think but Dean's habit of pushing at him was just making this worse. With one last annoyed look at the sky as if cursing God for putting him into this, he inhaled again. A sharp, tangy odour very like blood and nothing like the smell of a forest, caught his attention and his head snapped around to try to follow it.

"You got something?" Dean asked, nudging him.

"How close are we to the exit from Purgatory?"

"Just a bit further if we were right this time." Dean looked up at the trees and that unsettled feeling that had been bothering him seemed to grow. "That's funny. Nothing from the birds. There's not even a breeze."

"I don't like this." Castiel glanced behind them as well and then at Dean expectantly.

"Yeah, what's to like, you know?" He put one hand on the knife still tucked in his belt. "Come on. It's probably nothing. The sooner we check it out, the sooner we can get back to keep Meg and Sam from killing each other."

---

"You-you are trying to get me drunk to get information out of me," Sam said, slapping his palm on the table as if discovering. With one eye on where Nyx was napping on the old couch near the television, Meg shrugged and leaned back in her seat at the table. She took another sip of the finer Scotch Sam had cracked out and tried to ignore the way he pointed at her. She had stolen his own journal out from under his nose and had been trying to read it for the past hour; would have been done too if he kept quiet. Sam was not making it easy on her by talking so much and she knew eventually she would have to answer him.

"Better than taking advantage of you, I guess. Your brother would get jealous of that," she said, barely able to keep her boredom from showing.

Sam grinned. "Or Cas would."

She waved her hand over her face without looking up. "Notice the demon not caring."

"Yeah sure you don't." Sam took a long pull from his beer. "Man, I'm getting drunk."

"Bad influence, that's me." Meg smirked and leaned back. He said he was drunk but she was starting to wonder if it was just an act. "You're not telling me much."

"What's to tell? Our lives went to hell and back about three times since Cas put you under that spell. We survived, we moved on." He scratched at his chest over his heart thoughtfully. "He told you about it."

"Cliff's notes like I told you. I heard what I wanted to hear."

"Ah." He tipped his bottle neck towards her. "But not what you needed to hear."

"This where you're gonna get Dr. Phil on me, Sam?"

"Get with the times, will you? He's old news now."

"Sorry, forgot how much downtime you hunters get between failing missions. I never got to see that much TV at Linda's."

"We're gonna have to have a funeral for her. She deserved a funeral," he said morosely and clinked her glass with his bottle. Meg shook her head. Still, drunk Sam was entertaining if not a little depressing.

He chugged down the rest of his beer and then wiped at his mouth. "So, you ever going to tell Cas about that month right after?"

"Moose, I barely remember that month."

"Sure you don't." He slumped back in his seat. "I do. We kept having to go back and that wasn't easy for us."

"He doesn't need to know about any of that."

"Oh yeah. You're all 'not into the angel, he's a prick' as you keep telling me, and yet you want to protect him from that."

"As in: it's not his business. I'm not his business," Meg snapped irritably. But Sam turned oddly puppyish eyes on her.

"You had his kid. Even though you're not even human, that's something you can never let go."

"Oh for the love of Hell," Meg muttered and then frowned. "Since when did you decide to try counselling?"

"I'm taking LDE in psych again," he deadpanned as he picked up a new bottle of beer and cracked it open.

"Nice. Try it on Dean, will you? Serial killer studies could never compare." Meg looked around at the bunker interior. "Why are you still hanging around this dump? The way you guys fight, I thought this place would have already been burnt to the ground."

"We had that. We're over it. Rinse and repeat."

Meg arched her brow. "A shampoo joke? Boy, you are tanked. What happened? You couldn't find a girl to pull you away again?"

"Like you've never been in love," Sam slurred. Meg shrugged again, not committing to anything. "Me? I've been in love. Lots of times." He took another drink and tried again. "Sometimes…" He stopped and hide a burp behind his hand, drunkenly smirking at her when she looked at him. "A few times at night if I find the room to rent."

"Soul sharing with Dean got you some of his better habits?" The demon grinned and shook her head but didn't stop flipping through Sam's journal. He was looped on just a few beers and since it would take more alcohol than they had to get her drunk it looked like she was in for Winchester bonding whether she liked it or not. She glanced at Nyx but the sudden sigh from Sam made her look back to see him staring at the table.

"Loved Jess." That morose note in his voice made her roll her eyes before she snorted.

"Please. Did you ever think that because she died you built up this illusion in that tiny moose brain of yours that life would have been perfect? If only she had just lived?" She rocked forward teasingly. "You boys are cursed to die bachelors. Always have been since you and Dean decided to look for your old Pops."

He swung at her and Meg easily dodged it so he had to slouch back when he lost his balance. She pushed her chair out to stand but before she could move far something about the way he was staring at her made her sit back down. Sam's drunken gaze had fixed on her with sudden intensity.

"You're telling me, in all those months, you didn't love him. Don't believe you."

Surprised, Meg stared back and he grinned when she didn't even try to answer.

"Knew it." He leaned forward and took a card from her. "You see, you may have been in my body, Meg, but I remember your sad little thoughts in my head too. I felt them. You're just like me. You act like the bad demon and sure, you are. Deep down though, maybe you were lonely, you were tired and you needed something to fix on so you don't go off the deep end. Deep down, you still like the idea of him. You were just scared, weren't you?"

She glared at him but he seemed to either not see or not care how angry his words made her. It was hard to tell with the way entertainingly drunk Sam had turned into depressingly drunk Sam.

"Me too," Sam admitted solemnly. "Scared me and Dean are gonna end up like Bobby or Dad. I've got Dean in my head sometimes and I know he wishes he could have a family, like I wish I'd gotten some sort of normal life."

"This your confessional, Sam?" Meg asked. "I've been inside some sinful priests before so I've heard better."

"It's pretty messed up," he glared at her, "that a demon and an angel have a better chance of a family life than two humans. What are you up to, Meg?"

"Jealousy just looks so pretty on you." She stretched and yawned. "Do a quick check on that one, Sam. We're not about to get all normal nuclear on you."

"Normal for you two just sounds ridiculous anyway." He hiccuped as if to punctuate the point.

Meg kept glaring at him until she realized that she was hearing the whisper soft murmuring of a child. Sam slowly turned to look at where Nyx was sleeping and almost immediately his face cleared. His eyes lost the glaze and his mouth was no longer slack. There was no sign of a drunk and every sign of a hunter who had been trying to manipulate his prey.

She decided to kill him later for trying to play her. Right now she had to worry about Nyx. With a parting smack on his arm, she slipped into the comfier part of the common room and turned off the television.

"Nyx? What's up, kid?" she asked as she crouched beside her daughter and shook her gently. Blue eyes popped open to focus on her and Meg was stunned when she felt a small shove in her own mind. The way another demon or angel would to try to show telepathy. She ignored it and patted her dark head, fingers combing through the tangled waves. "Bad dream?"

Nyx nodded and her tiny hands began to pull at her unicorn's torn body. "Bad monsters."

"No monsters are going to get you while we're here," Sam said comfortingly. He sounded completely sober and Meg reminded herself to not trust a Winchester at all, especially when it came to letting her guard down.

Her eyes wide, Meg's daughter looked around the massive walls. "Not in here."

"I think you need to get some food in you and then a real bed for a while," Meg said, disturbed by the very real fear she could feel in Nyx. Ignoring it, she looked over her shoulder. "You guys do have actual food right? I don't need to eat but she will."

"I'll have to go out and shop. All we've got is some bread and peanut butter," Sam said. He stood up, swayed on his feet and blinked rapidly. "Maybe I shouldn't drive."

Meg looked back around to see Nyx staring at Sam before her daughter turned to face her. When their eyes met, Nyx seemed to be staring at her real face, not just the human's she wore. She had the same look that Castiel would get when he was seeing under the surface of skin and bone. Resisting the urge to touch her own face self-consciously, she watched Nyx give her a trembling smile at last. The little girl soon threw her arms around her neck and pressed close, burying her face in Meg's shoulder and shuddering.

"Want the monsters to go away," she insisted and Meg swung her up, giving Sam a puzzled look that he met with equal concern.

"I need to go stock up on food anyway so I'll get something for her."

Meg nodded. "Fine. I'm going to put her down in the spare room after she has something to eat."

The way that Meg was acting around Nyx made Sam realize then how much she cared for her child. It was the same protectiveness she had had for Castiel in the hospital years ago. Maybe it was, like Dean had thought, a demon thing to be possessive and protective over their charges. He watched her leave the room before he checked his phone again, debating on texting Dean.

Instead, a series of texts sent from Kevin's spare phone stared back at him.

I'm coming back to Kansas. I need to see you guys. It's about what happened.

He forgot all about contacting Dean for a moment. They had told Kevin he should rest, grieve, anything but try to be a prophet or a hunter.

Like he'd said to Meg, they even planned to stage a small memorial for Linda Tran. Both Winchesters had been fond of Mrs. Tran — Dean's schoolboy crush not withstanding — and for the first time they wanted to do something to show their respect. They'd never had time before.

It was because of her that Sam was alive now.

---

The clearing that Dean had come through that dark night years ago was now overgrown but even with all the brush and deadwood, he knew this place. You didn't often forget the first glimpses of freedom you saw when you escaped a prison. The massive stand of trees still protected it and the smell of something arid and rotting was intense, different from the more grassy scents further away. Dean rested his gun against his leg and quickly scanned the clearing for any danger before he crouched to check the footprints in the dirt.

"Anything?" he asked and looked to the other side where Castiel had gone to check the route leading down the other way. Something had distracted him, made him look around and think that they were being followed. He didn't have an answer for Dean as to what it was yet.

"Nothing." He sighed and turned, opening his own phone as if hoping for something. "Not even a…"

Dean's startled shout made his head whip up to see him flying up and into the trees. He was flung high and spun around until Dean was pinned to a large tree trunk, his head shoved back. Groaning in pain, he struggled to move even his head.

"Dean!" Castiel started for him but before he could get far, Crowley stood in his way.

"Ah ah ah." He grinned. "Put the big hero routine in neutral, will you?

"Crowley." His hand went for his angel sword but the demon had his own pointing up between them defensively.

"I know, I know. You warned me. Which is why I didn't come alone." He snapped his fingers and Dean dropped to the ground. He landed on his chest and his breath whooshed out of him the second he made impact. Castiel stared at him in concern but eventually Dean picked himself up, staggering a little as he rubbed at his chest. They were surrounded by a circle of demons who held ranks even when Castiel glared at them in warning. Crowley watched him closely but didn't back away. "So did that warning applies to your hunters as well?"

"What do you want?"

"Just information. It's why we followed you here."

"Why?" Castiel narrowed his eyes and glanced up at the sky. No signs of more demons, no angels, nothing. Why was Crowley flying so far under the radar?

"Because of your little brat and her mother," Crowley said. "What else?"

"Kid's got a name," Dean muttered and Crowley looked thoughtfully interested.

"Really? What is it?"

The hunter glanced at Castiel to see his eyes boring into him and he clamped his mouth shut when he recognized that warning. "Not like I'd tell you."

"Smart boy but only when away from Sammy. Must be the soul thing that makes you both loopy as kittens on catnip." Crowley glanced around the clearing. "So I assume you've been following the monster movements?"

"Caught our attention," Dean admitted.

"Mm. It's been hell in... well… Hell. No word yet as to what happened but we all felt something even when topside." The Crossroads demon tapped his fingers in rhythm on a tree trunk. "Maybe it has to do with your gal, Castiel. You know which one I'm talking about. The previously dead one?"

The angel glanced at the spot behind him.

"The whore?" Crowley prompted. He wanted some sort of reaction from Castiel to see what he was working with.

Watching Castiel as closely as he was, Dean saw his hands tighten into fists at his sides and wondered if that explosion he was overdue for was coming. Still, Castiel's self-control won out and he stayed calm. Clearly wanting to insult the demon, he turned his back on him and wandered around.

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" Dean asked, palming his knife. The demons closer to him glared and he sneered back. "You guys want something or are you just looking to ogle my ass?"

"I have a very invested interest in finding out why Castiel hid Meg and her offspring. Not to mention why you trusted baby brother with them." Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. "I actually expected Sam here with you. Not Heaven's guard dog."

"Why do you care?"

"I like Sam." Crowley's grin was sly. "Boy has potential."

"Sure you do. And I'm pretty sure Cas isn't that interested in you getting near them or us, right, Cas?" He looked around when there was no answer. "Cas?"

The angel was staring at the brush where the air seemed to be shimmering though no leaves or branches moved. The mirage effect was hypnotic, distorting the bushes and trees the longer they all stared, until the rippling effect shone so bright it hurt the eyes. The air that had felt arid before suddenly felt humid and uncomfortable, and behind Dean the demons shifted in confusion.

"Cas? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling." As if feeling it physically, he rubbed at his stomach and winced at some internal pain.

Crowley stepped around Dean. "Angel radar going whacko?" He ignored Dean's glare. "Or are you just dodging the questions?"

"I don't have to explain things to you of all people," Castiel answered without turning around. Crowley decided to take a chance and came to stand directly behind him at his shoulder.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I could have gone to the angels. Now I'm in a state of leverage here and I quite like that around you." He noticed Castiel's head tilting a little and assumed he was listening to him. "So we're going to all play nice and you are…."

"Shut up."

Insulted, the demon gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

But Castiel appeared to be fully focussed on the mirage he was seeing and didn't respond to the demon as he started to insult him. Dean came up to his other side and leaned forward to try to see what he was seeing. The smell in the air was suddenly sickeningly sweet, like corpses and jasmine, and he put his hand to his mouth to stop himself from vomiting in disgust. The ripple in the air became visible, as if something was straining to break through the shimmering in the air. As an orange glow began to slip through, the crack widened and a smell of sulphur overwhelmed the sweet smell.

"Cas?" he demanded.

"Dean, get back." Castiel pushed him further behind him and even Crowley backed away, eyes widening in surprise. "Get back."

"What the bloody hell?"

The crack suddenly flared out and snapped, like a floodlight turning on. Light pooled out onto the trembling ground as smoke and ash poured out from the crack in the mirage. The smoke drifted down, pooling on the ground in the form of a woman. Castiel blinked, a feeling of dread making him stand frozen to the ground. She looked like a demon to him at first but she felt…different.

The female lifted her head and screamed just before her body exploded into ashes. The light she had come from burst outwards in an explosion that began to flatten out the entire clearing. Waves of sound and heat rushed out like a flash bomb and Castiel felt the pull of something actually tossing him away from the clearing, while Crowley and Dean spun into the air as the wind snatched them around. As Castiel twisted in the air, he caught sight of Dean landing in a pile of brush and being buried by wood-chips and dirt. With a roar and hiss, the white light sliced through the air again and he felt something more powerful than he was throwing him away from the clearing.

The demon who'd been standing just behind Crowley was the only one who stayed standing, feet almost glued to the ground as the others lay around him. He swayed and moaned as something kept his body tight and rigid. He'd been used to being the one possessing a body, to forcing the body to his will and taking what he wanted.

Now there was something else was latching onto his own demonic soul. Now he knew the fear of possession.

Arching his spine to bone-breaking limit, the demon threw his head back and screamed in agony.

He wasn't sure where he landed but it wasn't far away from the explosion. His ears were still ringing from the force of it and he could still feel the heat on his skin. It almost felt as if he'd been knocked around by an Archangel and the ache brought back painful memories.

---

Laying in a daze, smelling blood and fire in the air, Castiel stared at the midday sun with a little bit of wonder. For a moment, he forgot how he had come to land on his back in the middle of a forest with sunlight touching his face; he couldn't even imagine how it started. Then the aftershock from the explosion hit him fully and he started to choke on the blood in his mouth, rolling to his stomach and dry heaving as his body fixed itself from the force of the explosion. Any fractured bones slid back into place, his vision cleared, and eventually even the pain left his muscles.

He fisted his hands in the grass and pulled hard, feeling dirt in his fingernails and the slippery shoots ripping out of the earth. It helped bring him back to slow reality.

What happened? Where was Dean?

His memory was already blurry over it. He wasn't even sure what he had seen but he had seen the light and felt something oppressive move through the air. Something that had made his own power feel stunted and tiny. Which experience told him was a terrible thing.

Castiel rocked back on his hands and knees, and slowly pushed himself up, dusting leaves and dirt off himself. Wiping at his bloody mouth, he focussed on the sky and searched for a sign of anything strange. But there was only the bright sparkle of sunlight on the tree leaves, a cool breeze, and that forest smell of dead leaves and wood.

"Dean?" he called out, but there was no answer this time. Even stretching out his power did nothing to help him; he couldn't feel anything but the forest around him. He listened for any sign of Dean calling or praying to him but there was nothing.

"Castiel."

The sudden female voice behind him made him spin too fast and regret it as his vision swam a little in protest. Rocking unsteadily on his feet, he bent at the waist and spat out another mouthful of blood before looking up. The surprise he felt was genuine when he saw a familiar but tired looking angel staring back at him. The wrinkled black suit and studious framed glasses made her look out of place in the forest, even more than he did.

"Sandalaphon." He watched her glare at him, caution making her keep several feet away. They both remembered how she had guarded her brother from him. And how eventually she'd betrayed him. Still Castiel didn't trust her anymore than she trusted him. The angels had long since given up trusting each other so blindly anymore. "Anya."

Her nose wrinkled at the human nickname she'd taken. "Hello, brother." Her eyes flicked to the angel sword he let roll down to his hand. "That's not necessary."

"What are you doing here?" He circled her and she mirrored him.

"I have a message for you."

"Not from your brother, I hope," he said and she flinched.

"He is your brother too, Castiel."

"I have more things to worry about than the Metatron." His fingers tightened on the hilt. A subtle warning that made Anya's own hand go to her belt where her angel sword was tucked.

"The message isn't from him. I can't tell you who it is from, only that He is sorry. That some things are necessary to make the way for a better world. That He's sorry for what He had you do. Will have you do."

"What- what you talking about?" he whispered. Some absurd hope sprang in his chest, welled up by a faith that he had kept buried for so long. He refused to let it show even to his own sister though; he knew what it would cost to show that to another angel, especially one like her. But Anya was gone before he could force her to answer, just quickly into the air and he debated on pursuing her. Confused by her sudden appearance and infuriated by the way she had left, it was the sound of someone fighting close by that snapped him out of it.

"Dean?"

---

Groaning, Dean picked himself up from the brush with a head that pounded and the taste of coppery blood and dirt in his mouth. Even when he spat it out, the taste was still there. His ankle ached from where it had been twisted and he was sure that if he moved too fast, he'd collapse again. Whatever had exploded out in the clearing had been enough to throw him like a rag-doll and make him feel weak.

After wiping dirt out of his eyes, he looked around at the bodies of the demons still lying on the ground like corpses. Crowley was nowhere to be seen, nor was Castiel. There was only one demon left standing now, his back to Dean. Though he wasn't any more trusting of demons than he had been years ago, he knew that if the demons had been knocked down like bowling pins then something big was coming their way.

Better a demon for a decoy than him.

"Hey, buddy," he called out. "See what hit us?"

The demon's shoulders were shuddering as the orange haze that had gathered on the forest floor continued to circle him. The low hiss of breathing was something Dean hadn't heard in a long time, like a monster in a death throe or someone about to start weeping. What was the demon up to?

"Hey? You think that because your boss is gone you're off the hook for answers?" Dean asked as he approached the demon, kicking at the fog and waving it away.

Slowly, like something from a horror film, the demon turned around and faced him. One eye orange and the other black, he fixed him with a fanged smile as a line of drool down its chin. Whatever semblance of a man the demon had was something Dean could look through easily and see something monstrous starting to show just under the surface. The grey skin was so tight around the human face that it was skull-like and the demon kept unhinging his thick jaw like a snake.

Whatever this was… wasn't human-like right now.

He clenched Ruby's knife tight in his fist, eyes darting around. "Cas?" he called out. The demon launched at him, bringing with him a sickening sweet stench that was made worse by the heat of his own body. Sweat dappled the demon's forehead, as if he was burning up on the inside, and his eyes had a feverish glaze.

Instinct kicked in and Dean parried the swipe, slicing at the demon's stomach with Ruby's knife and then spinning again to bury a smaller knife into the demon unprotected back. The demon shouted as the blade sunk into his muscles from behind, and Dean twisted the demon knife into his stomach deep, but there were no sparks. Instead, the flesh on the demon's back seemed to close around the blade and in surprised horror, Dean watched the way the blade itself snapped at the hilt. Ripping Ruby's knife out of the demon's stomach, he swallowed and stared as the bloody wounds healed over as if being zippered from the inside.

Dean stared at the marks and then up at the demon's hulking form as he laughed at him. He gave a weak smile back and then shouted just before his throat was grabbed and amazingly strong fingers squeezed his windpipe. Unable to breath, he kicked out repeatedly until he finally felt his foot make contact. The demon didn't utter a sound as he threw Dean down on his back and the hunter rolled over onto his stomach, trying to scramble away the moment he was free. The demon landed on top of him and grappled with him until he was pinned down by that heavier weight.

"Dean Winchester," the demon's raspy voice whispered in his ear, hot breath smelling of sulphur and something rotted. It pushed his head into the dirt and Dean spat out a few clumps as he tried to wriggle out of the grip on the back of his neck.

"I know you?"

"Part of me." The hand on his throat loosened to stroke his neck, fingers tracking up the nape. "I remember sinking my - our - teeth into you."

Dean swallowed nervously.

"Or at least, part of me remembers that. The other part remembers but she is elsewhere. She is still rising."

Getting a leg up beneath himself, Dean kicked free with his other foot. Shoving up hard, he slammed his head back against the demon's nose, heard a splinter of bone and the demon fell off him. Before he could move far, the demon was already grabbing at his legs, nails scraping over his jeans. Dean scuttled back on his feet as the demon charged at him and he rolled over again to avoid being trapped by its weight. He quickly crab-walked on his hands until his back met an overturned tree and turned his face, just in time shutting his eyes as the demon came within inches of his cheek. The demon snapped his teeth against Dean's race with sharp click , just grazing the skin.

"You tried to kill me once. But you can't stop creation, Dean, when it gets its chance. Poor, poor stupid little human." The male voice was at odds with the almost maternal way he was being scolded and Dean tried to focus as his chest began to ache from sucking in too much air too fast. He tried to work it out though his head was spinning and his heart felt ready to rip out of his chest with how hard his blood was pumping.

"Eve," he whispered finally and he turned his head to see the strange bi-coloured eyes fixed on his face.

"Hello, Dean. You're only half-right, because I'm not only Eve the Mother now. I had to… share. Separate. Become something more. Thanks to this demon I'm using."

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose as he realized what he was staring at. How the hell was a monster using a demon like this?

"Do you remember how willing I was to work with you all? And I was betrayed. So I think it is time I perfect my children. I want what I am owed. Life. My family." Fingers digging into his throat, the creature hauled him close and he choked as the grip tightened. "Maybe it is fitting that the one who fed me the ashes of Phoenix is the start of that."

Dean tried to think of some clever answer, something to buy him time even if it meant he was beaten to a pulp for his infamous sarcasm. But the ache in him was so deep now that it felt as if he was about to die if his heart didn't stop beating so hard. The demon-monster's now black eyes fixed on his face and Dean winced as it leaned in close, sniffing at his throat. He felt the faintest brush of fangs on his skin and in his head he prayed desperately for Castiel.

But the creature pulled back before those sharp teeth slid into Dean's vulnerable throat and gave him a disturbed look. The once-demon dropped him to the ground and Dean felt his heart bang hard in his chest.

"You have a soul but its been twisted. Unusable." The creature growled and he was sure he saw the eyes slit like a reptile's. "What have you done, Winchester?"

"I…I…" He barely managed to stumble out more than a gasping breath before he had to stop. Dean's heart pounded and his ribs burned from the struggle to breathe through the pressure he felt inside. The demon-monster continued to back away, snarling at him but at least backing away.

Dean never saw him leave the clearing. His hands and face felt numb from all sensation, and he began to hyperventilate around the pressure in his chest. But nothing could stop that pain in his heart. It felt like something was spiralling inside, cranking the muscle too tight and when he tried to look around for help, he only saw lights starting to swim in his vision. Unable to breathe, he clutched at his chest and prayed for help.

As the ache in his arms and chest grew too much, Dean went to his knees, then his back on the forest floor. Grabbing at his arm as it went numb, he felt his heart squeezing even tighter and he tried to will the forest to stop spinning in circles around him while he fought the pain in his chest.

By the time Castiel found him, curled up on his side and his right arm clenched close to his heart, Dean's prayers had gone quiet. The other demons were gone, bodies dragged off by what he could see, and it was only the hunter left. Not even stopping to check the surroundings, the angel ran to him, dropped to a knee and pressed his fingers to his pulse.

"Dean… Dean!" Flipping him onto his back, Castiel saw Dean staring up at him but he was unable to breathe properly or speak.

He pressed his palm flat on his chest and he felt the barrier of the magic the Trans had put on the Winchesters pushing back at him, keeping his Grace from healing Dean instantly. Ignoring the burn of power rejecting him, he tried to see what was wrong just by look at Dean's ashen face. No sign of a demon's power or even a monster's poison, no bite marks or broken bones; it was as if Dean had just…collapse. This was something so basic and natural that it seemed inherently wrong to be happening to the hunter.

What he found when he rested his hand over Dean's ribs made Castiel stare dumbly.

Dean's heart was giving out.

---

Sam looked at the rows of kid's snacks and wondered how on earth he was going to get something Nyx could eat that Dean wouldn't get into. From the bright colourful boxes to the cute characters, he knew that it was a losing battle to find something plain and simple. He was sure whatever he bought for the kid, Dean would finish happily.

How he ended up here was still a mystery. By all reason, he should be back at the bunker, pretending to get drunk with Meg while trying to see what her plans were as Dean had ordered him to. He should be making sure there was no trouble being caused by the demon and nothing lurking around the bunker. That was everything that he should being doing but here he was shopping for children's snacks.

Sam just hated seeing a little girl so scared. Maybe if he found her something children usually liked, then maybe when she was happy he could think of a way to figure out what she really was under that innocent face and what could be happening between her and her mother. It was a tricky kind of logic but it had seemed like an easy enough thing to do.

Until he stood in the aisle and felt overwhelmed by all the boxes and sale signs staring back at him. Too many colours, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as it made his head spin a little.

He had never realized how many choices there were for kid's snacks. Picking up a package of cookies, he scanned the ingredients out of habit. "Jesus," he muttered as he read the list. "That's a lot of preservatives."

Grabbing a box of plain animal crackers instead, he tossed it into the basket with the other groceries and debated on picking up the colouring book stacked invitingly on the rack across from the snacks. He had seen all of Nyx's drawings proudly displayed on Linda's refrigerator and knew the way she liked to colour when bored. Sam reached out but then immediately stopped himself.

"Ok, this is just getting weird," he muttered aloud. "You're like the creepy uncle. Just get the food and get out."

Sam grabbed the book anyway and tossed it in as he headed to the cashier with his overflowing basket. Dean wouldn't forgive him for all the healthy food but better that than a three year old on a sugar high. He gave the cashier an uncertain smile as she looked at the groceries and then at the colouring book. He'd come here often enough that she knew his habits and he could tell she was surprised. She cracked her gum loudly and picked up the colouring book, arching her eyebrow at him when she read the cover.

"Cute."

"Yeah," Sam shrugged as he started to count his bills out. "I thought so."

"You guys finally adopted?"

He looked up from his wallet. "What?"

"You and that other gorgeous guy. You adopted a kid? That's so nice!" She dangled the book at him and he went a bit red when he realized what she was saying.

"Oh, he's my brother and no. We got a friend visiting."

"Oh." She gave him a disbelieving 'ah-huh' sound before she scanned the items. As he watched the prices ring in, the digital text flickering repeatedly, Sam felt a sudden pounding pressure in his head. The slow onset of a headache he thought but the overall ache from head to toe with a slow crawl.

She was on his last item when he had to clutch the counter edge to keep himself from falling over at the pain in his head and chest. It wasn't enough to knock him out but it was there and enough to make him need the support. The cashier gave him a worried look and, breathing heavily, Sam quickly handed over the money.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat noisily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Have a good night." He snatched the plastic bags and banged into the shelving units on his way out, not even caring that he knocked a few cans over as he tried to find his balance. The minute he made it outside, he dropped the bags on the Impala's hood and sank down to the curb, head in his hands. Staring at the ground in mute horror and listening to his own wildly beating heart, Sam knew that something was wrong with his brother.

---

"I told you that she shouldn't have visitors, gentlemen." Nasally pitched, the voice grated on Meg's ears as she lay in her bed.

"She was fine a few days ago," a throatier voice muttered.

"She woke screaming for her daughter and for an angel, and then she went catatonic. She has been in and out for nearly a month now. We need to consider moving her to a psychiatric ward. The state she is in may need far more care than this ward can give."

The nasal-high voice cleared. "And the insurance, of course."

Meg didn't think that she was catatonic. She could clearly see the two strangers standing at her bedside and the doctor who'd been pumping her full of drugs. The one who had been saying she couldn't move anymore. She was sure she could move if she really wanted to and maybe she was right.

She'd woken up in this place. No memory of who she was or what had happened. She didn't even know what daughter she'd been screaming for like this doctor had said she was. She felt like she was lost and the memory of what she was just out of reach.

So she stared at them: barely able to blink, still unable to open her mouth and speak.

"Well, lucky for you, Doc," the shorter man said. "We got some therapy for her."

The doctor huffed. "She is on every medication and physical therapy we can have in this hospital. I doubt your 'therapy' is going to work, sir."

The PA crackled, a fuzzy voice garbling out orders that sent the doctor out of the room at a run. The two men at her bedside watched the doctor leave before they turned back to her. The larger one bent close and looked into her eyes; searching for something she thought.

"She doesn't look so good. Was this supposed to happen?"

"Not sure. Maybe it was an accident. An after effect or symptom." The other man was unbuckling her hands from the restraints and she wanted to do something, anything, to force him to put them back on. She wasn't sure what she was but she thought it made sense for her hands to be bound, to keep her down. For some reason the steady hold of the restraints made her feel safe in this room. He took her hand in his and she could feel the strength in that grip as he tested her pulse, and then shrugged. "Seems normal enough. Go get her."

When the other man was gone, he leaned down and looked directly into her face with his green eyes, an almost flirtatious smile touching his lips. "You know, I never thought I'd miss your bitchiness but anything is better than coma girl."

He turned away and she wanted to shout at him to look at her so she could try to figure out what he was familiar.

A small Asian woman appeared holding a bundle in her arms. She shook her head at something one of the men said and Meg tried to focus on her as she approached the side of the bed. "She looks terrible."

"Hospital stays do atrophy muscles," the larger man said as he came in behind her and locked the door. The woman sat beside her, and Meg's foggy vision fixed on her though her eyes never moved.

"Hello, Meg. I brought you a visitor. This time you get to really see her since your eyes opened this week. She's growing big."

She held up a small baby, not very old, and Meg's catatonic expression never changed though her focus fixed on the pink skin and blue eyes.

This baby… this was hers!

As if in response to her thoughts, tiny hands reached out and touched her face and she felt a shock go through her, a sensation of feeling that brought life back to her muscles. The baby cooed and made garbled sounds as those beautiful blue eyes stared at her. As if she knew her and wanted to touch her more.

Meg's fingers twitched on the scratchy hospital blanket.

"It's working," someone said.

"Come on, baby girl." The woman pressed her cheek against the baby's. "Wake your momma up. It's time she woke up."

The baby's other hand lifted and touched her face right over her eyes. Meg felt warmth flow through her, a drugging feeling, and she took in a deep breath as she regained slow control of every muscle in her body. Everything hurt from being asleep for so long but she forgot that as the baby continued to touch her. For a moment, it felt like she belonged here in this body with that warm touch comforting her.

For the first time in a month, she blinked her eyes and her slack mouth closed and opened. Everyone took a collective breath but her eyes were only on the baby. The baby who touched her and cooed happily at the sight of her mother's slow grin.

"Nyx."

It was her first real memory after Castiel's spell on her, and one Meg wasn't sure she liked remembering. She should hate that memory but she always relived it when she lay in a bathtub fully submerged, like she was now. It was how she had felt when she had woken up, no memory of who she was or what she was, that was always why she came back to that memory. Only that Nyx had been there and that her world would be fine even if her daughter was the only memory she had. So long as she had Nyx to defend. To give her a cause to serve.

Meg lay under the surface of hot water, feeling the way it slid over her smooth skin and the way her hair snaked around her body. Everything was sore again and she felt like she was crawling inside a drowning corpse the longer the water remained over her. Opening her eyes, she noticed the lights flickering and she released the breath she'd been holding.

Hauling herself up so she could lie against the back of the tub, Meg closed her eyes again and rested her head on the porcelain ledge. She'd only come in here because she'd yet to feel warm since returning to her true self. Her skin always felt cold and it was enough to disturb her, to get her to stay in boiling hot water for longer than any human could take it. Stuck in this body since the Lethe's side-effects had trapped her, Meg knew her small frame inside and out and she knew that it was as desperate to feel any warmth as the demon herself was.

But already the bath was getting cold and she'd been in here too long. She stretched out her power and felt Nyx in the next room, talking loudly to her imaginary friends as she watched cartoons on the old television. With Sam out to get supplies, the bunker was otherwise quiet and still.

It didn't help her concentrate. She was ready to destroy the bathroom out of absolute frustration. Only because she was so weak did it mean that the bathroom was left in reasonable shape though her darker power crackled and growled around her.

Turning around so she lay sideways in the water, Meg exhaled sharply before opening her eyes and focussing on the opposite wall and the shower curtain.

Why had he done it? Why was she even now thinking about forgetting it all for the sake of getting rid of this feeling? For the sake of getting some sort of sense back to her messed up head?

Meg shuddered and stood up from the water to stand on shaky feet, kicking the plug out before she grabbed a towel and wiped at her damp skin briskly. Each movement made her head spin from the too hot of water and the disoriented feeling left over from Castiel's spell. As she towelled off she tried to make a workable plan; with any luck, she could at least do some research on her own. The Winchesters had mountains of books and maybe there was some hint as to what she should do. Maybe even some inane prophecy or occult warning to give her a sign that she had missed before.

When Meg opened the door to the hall, she suddenly came face to face with Castiel, his own hand already lifted to knock. He stared at her, startled by the sight of her wet skin, and his mouth opened a little. Meg backed up a step to put more distance between them and her shoulder met the door. Suddenly wanting to be back to normal, to be how she had been years ago, she hitched the towel tighter around her small body and flipped her hair over a shoulder. The smirk she tried for came out as tremulous and shaky though; the towel covered her from shoulder to feet but damned if he didn't make her actually feel naked.

Eyes lifting to her face, Castiel's own expression went stony and cool when he saw the smirk on her face.

"You were in Maine," she blurted out. Castiel nodded and didn't say anything, nervously looking away from her instead. "Got back in a hurry? What, is a Touched by an Angel marathon on or something?"

He ignored that and turned his head a little to look down the hall. "I've been looking for Sam. Where is he?"

"Went to the store in town." Meg blinked as abruptly he walked away from her, muttering about humans and never being where he left them. She hadn't expected the brush-off. "Hey… hey!"

He slowly turned and looked at her with ill-concealed impatience causing his lips to tighten and his eyes to narrow. "Yes?

"What the hell is going on?"

"Dean's been injured." He adjusted his coat as if it concerned him more than she did. "I had to take him to a hospital for some care. I can't heal him like I used to. Not since the spell was cast on him and Sam."

"Sam left maybe an hour ago but he'll be back." Meg tugged the towel tighter and walked towards him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nyx still playing in the spare room but Castiel didn't look over. Glancing up at him, Meg took another step and cocked her hip to the side, trying for nonchalance. "Dean still in Maine?"

"I brought him to the closest hospital with the doctors we needed."

"Ah." She bit into her lower lip and shrugged. "What got him? Demon? Angel? Killer bunny rabbit?"

Something about the look he gave her made her step back again. "I was hoping someone could explain that to me."

She blinked. "Why are you looking at me like that? What do I know?"

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Never mind. I have to find Sam. Stay with Nyx and I'll be back." He gave her a frustrated once over when she rolled her eyes and walked by him. "Meg."

When she looked over her shoulder, he reached out slowly. His hand touched the edge of the towel and he tugged it higher for her, his knuckles brushing her skin. It was an absentminded gesture, something he did out for the sake of it, but he dropped his hand immediately when he realized what he had done. Reaching up, Meg quickly fixed the towel herself and rubbed at the spot he had touched.

"Keep her safe," he said.

Meg gave him an icy look. "What else am I going to do with her? Sacrifice her to the dark lord?"

Judging by the look he gave her, that wasn't funny to an angel and probably even less funny to the child's own father.

"I'll be back."

Meg huffed as he disappeared in the air. "Great. Sit and wait. Back to being appendage demon to an angel."

She heard Nyx calling out to but she leaned back on the wall and thought it out instead of going to her. If Dean couldn't be healed by angel mojo, if something had actually attacked him and Castiel out in Maine, then she knew there was something big about to go down. Something normally she'd duck under and avoid until she knew all the enemies and what they could do. But like it or not, Castiel had a point before. It had been easier when she'd run solo but now she had to protect Nyx.

Damn, if she still wasn't confused why she was so hell-bent on doing that.

---

Beep-beep-beep.

It was that low, steady drone, the sound of a respirator hissing up and down, and the pressure of an IV in his hand that made Dean realize he was in a hospital long before he could even open his eyes. The drugs were making it hard for him to wake up out of the deep sleep and he longed to fall backward into that dreamless sleep. He could still smell something sweet in the air, an undercurrent of death just under the strong odour of disinfectant.

A hospital. He hadn't been in one of these for a while.

Licking his dry lips, he wearily tried to move his sore arm and felt the tug of the I.V. pulling his hand back down.

"Now now," a deep female voice scolded him, "Don't go pulling that out. We just got you settled and your friend was pretty upset. You'll get him scared if you rip that out."

His hand was patted and he tried to open his eyes to see who did it.

"You've had a heart attack, Mr. Winchester. A massive one and you had to be stabilized. It'll be better for you to just rest and wait to ask questions later, okay? I'll go see the doctor and you can sleep."

How was he going to call Sam if he feel asleep?

"Squeeze my hand if you are in any pain." He felt calloused but warm fingers slip into his and he squeezed, barely able to find the strength to do that. "All right, sweetie, you sleep and I'll get you something for that."

Dean let his fingers relax gratefully when the nurse let his hand go and the low serenade of the machines helped him drift off.

---

Standing on the other side of the glass, Sam tried to bury the panic he felt with anger. It was unfair — and he knew it — but he felt angry towards the one person he had trusted to keep Dean safe. He hadn't said a word since Castiel had found him outside the store and with too much calm had told him that his brother was in the hospital. Sam had already known that something was wrong and with the same sort of connection he had known what had happened. But to hear it from Castiel brought it to a reality he didn't want to face.

There was no fast healing for this through angelic power, Sam knew that. The brothers were connected by the soul and they had learned that meant a world of possibilities and restraints. They'd learned that Castiel's powers had limits now when healing them. Sam just had to have faith that Dean would be okay and he found himself struggling to find that faith.

It still didn't help the knot of fear that was building inside of him as he watched Dean's grey-tinged face turn a little in his sleep, watched his chest rise and fall automatically thanks to the oxygen he was plugged in to. Knowing that Dean could have died and he hadn't been there to protect him, cut Sam deeply. Guilt was already starting to work its way inside of him and he tried to think of any way he could have prevented this.

Why had he let him go when they both knew they had to stick together?

He had been vaguely aware of Castiel harassing nurses and doctors alike for answers. The angel hated not having answers for Sam and he had continued to pester everyone until an older nurse snapped at him to shut up and sit down; cowed, now the angel sat in the waiting room. Sam wasn't sure he could face him right now without exploding.

He'd forgiven him for so much before, because he always knew his heart was in the right place. Castiel tried to do the right thing and he had brought him to the hospital as fast as he could. But if Dean died, if he lost him….

What the hell had happened to his normally healthy brother?

"Mr. Winchester? You are his next of kin, correct?" Sam looked up to see an equally tall but very thin woman staring at him kindly. "I'm Doctor Sheran."

---

Castiel sat with his hands folded on his lap and tried to ignore the urge to get up and place. He itched to move from the uncomfortable plastic chair; he was always like this in hospitals. Here he could do so much good: bringing hope to those that needed it, helping with the sick patients who could use a healing touch or talking to the lonely geriatrics long since forgotten in their wards. But he couldn't even help Dean and that kept him seated, still edgy with frustration and hopelessness.

What made this worse was that he was struggling to focus on his friend when he was also worried about Meg and Nyx. They'd been left alone in the bunker and he knew through experience that it wasn't the safest place in the world right now, compared to years ago. His own loyalty to the Winchesters and knowing Meg could handle herself helped him stay where he was. He checked his phone to bring up the contacts, his fingers pausing on the number to the bunker's landline, but he stopped himself.

He needed to keep focused.

"They said it was unprecedented. Likely exhaustion and too much stress." Sam's voice snapped him out of it and he looked up to see the younger Winchester sitting across from him on another chair. He looked as tired as Castiel suddenly felt, slumping in the too small of chair and his eyes half-closed as he rubbed at his scruffy cheek. "My words, not theirs. No way of predicting it though the doctor thinks Dean had some signs before. That he likely ignored them."

Castiel looked at his shoes. "I'm so sorry, Sam. We were separated and I still don't know by what."

"Yeah, I don't — I don't care." There was a hardness in his voice that made the angel look up. "I get it. Something bad went down. I even felt it and we need to know soon what happened. But right now I have to wait for news on Dean. I have to be the big brother right now and that is so goddamn terrifying, Cas."

Nodding in sympathy, Castiel leaned forward in his seat. "I will stay with you."

"I think it is better that I stay by myself." Sam took in a deep breath and noticed the look that crossed Castiel's face. "I'm not blaming you, Cas. It's just that I can literally feel his pain and he'll only get one visitor at a time anyway."

And you can't heal him. The unspoken words nearly made Castiel cringe but he gave Sam a smile instead that had no feeling behind it.

"I know, Sam. I'll go back to Maine, see what I can find."

"No, you won't." Sam met Castiel's stunned gaze sternly when he stood up. "If something attacked Dean, you'll put yourself at risk and I can't let you do that. Go back and make sure Meg and Nyx are safe. Kevin's making his way to the bunker as well and he said he had information for us. I need to know what it is."

"I'm not so sure I should go back." Castiel reached into his coat pocket and Sam noticed how he seemed to be jingling something in there. It wasn't like him to have that sort of nervous habit and he seemed unaware of that he was doing it.

"If you don't go back, then you're hiding out and I know you're not a coward, Cas. I'll call you as soon as Dean wakes up."

Looking like a kicked puppy, Castiel walked by him and paused to put his hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Sam."

"I know." Before he could get more than a few steps down the hall, Sam lifted his head. "Cas?" The angel turned and looked over his shoulder. "Thank you. The doctor said if you hadn't gotten him here so fast, he'd be dead. I owe you."

"No, you don't," Castiel answered. "We're family."

With just a shift in the air, he was gone in just a few strides and once again Sam was alone with just his thoughts to worry him. As the PA crackled out an emergency, he sat forward in his seat and watched as a crash cart went whizzing by him. Instantly he felt his adrenaline start to pump, sudden fear for Dean making his mouth dry and his heart pound. But the cart was pushed into another room and he slumped back in relief.

He could already hear the shuffling and chatter of the night staff coming on and knew that he wasn't looking forward to a long night in the hospital. Crossing his feet at the angles, he leaned back until his head met the wall and stared up at the fluorescents. The headache he had started to pound and he closed his eyes, trying to will away the thought of Dean helpless and weak in the hospital bed out of his head.

---

The once-demon sat on an overturned log in the forest and stared at the werewolves that had snuck into this place. They'd come to her call, the closest pack to feel it, and she smiled at them all in turn. Since taking the closest body, a pretty albeit half-destroyed female, she had set about making it hers and it had taken more than a little bit of power to do so. Her head turned this way and that, neck snapping as bones moved and fixed themselves to what she wanted. She had taken on a more physical form that she liked, ignoring the protest of the meatsuit, and transforming it muscle and bone back into something more innocent and beautiful.

This felt better, Eve thought. This felt almost like new.

The demons all lay still on the ground before her like supplicants at an altar. Her power forced them to stay down and she savoured the sight of them in such poses.

"Things could have been so easy before. But your King, his demons and his humans, made it so hard. So very hard."

She cracked her neck loudly once more before she stood up and walked towards them, a trail of fetid black ooze following her. Her smile remained serene, as if she didn't care about the damage she had just done.

"Demons." Her nose upturned in disgust. "Parasites."

She had never hated demons before, not really. They had all worked together at one point in a strange balance. Now, because of them, she was divided in what she thought and felt, and in how she acted.

"You." Reaching down, she pulled a demon up by his collar. "Who do you serve?"

He blinked through the sweat that dripped into his eyes. "…Crowley." Summoning what courage he had, he glowered up at her. "And he will gut you again, whore."

Her eyes flickered and with just an easy clench of her fingers she cracked his skull open. Making a moue of disappointment, she dropped the bits of brain and scalp to the forest floor and for good measure snapped her fingers to send the demon to death.

The other demons were shaking as she knelt in front of the next one. As she went to the ground, Eve had to press her hand to her belly to keep the eggs nesting there from dropping out out of the open gash. Those precious changed souls had to stay with her and she would guard them with her life. If she had been whole, healing would have been so much easier. But it was slow, painful even, and she had to hold herself together with more power than she had used before. Maybe, Eve considered as she studied the male demon, it was because part of her was gone to hunt their prey.

Where had the other part of her gone?

"Why did Crowley send you here?"

"We… we were to wait to see what happened. To wait for the Winchesters."

Eve's eyes glinted to black as the soul she was attached to fought her. She had to shake her head to get it back under control and inside her own head she felt demon and human soul shrieking for her to leave them alone. Growling low, she sent an inward power out and felt it slowly, methodically, crushing those souls.

They'd be nothing but ashes soon. Leaving her with this sweet body to do as she willed.

"The angel wasn't supposed to be here," another demon hissed to himself and her eyes darted to him.

"Why?"

He shut up and bent his head obstinately. Grabbing him by his throat, Eve lifted him and tilted his neck to the side. She sank her teeth in sharp to the jugular, tasted the blood that flowed sweet on her tongue, and instantly a flood of brief memories from him told her what she wanted. Brief glimpses of Crowley, of Dean Winchester and Castiel, showed her that they'd been here and argued. But the angel and hunter had known that something was to happen, and Eve moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she tasted the demonic sulphur in the blood.

Eve let him go when she'd drunk her fill and wiped daintily at her mouth as he lay on the ground, twitching as the venom in the bite start to try to change the meatsuit. His eyes flew open and stared at the sky, hands clenching in the soil.

Smirking, Eve scooped a handful of the eggs from her gaping wound and forced one of the tiny balls into his mouth. He choked on it and she held her hand over his mouth to force him to swallow; his gulping sounds were throaty and she cooed to him lowly. If he'd been human, her bite would be enough to turn him into something devastating. A demon could take the venom, fight it, but using the eggs with their pure souls would make this easier.

The other demons tried to run, to get away from her power, but she was on them before they could more than a few inches. One by one, she bit into their meatsuits before she force-fed them the tiny eggs and more than a healthy dose of her own power.

As she fed on demon blood, the entry to Purgatory began to pulse and a flicker of fire shone out before red light shrieked through with a hum and swam into the demons' twisted bodies.

But Eve was already thinking and forgetting their very presence.

"Impossible," she thought aloud, flicking her tongue out to taste a fleck of blood. Crowley had sent them here but from what the demon's memories told her, he was also looking for something else. He had left Hell to look for… another demon?

Eve grew slowly aware that the blood in her body was tainted from a meatsuit's disease and she spat the foul taste out.

When she looked down, the bodies were already rising. The meatsuit faces were already half rotted as the demon and monster souls that coiled within them fought for supremacy and the meatsuit was slowly broken from the pressure, the human soul buried even further by the power overwhelming it. Kept so close to their Mother for so long, the souls they were now infested with knew her mission intimately. They were her newest brood and she wanted the demon blood to perfect them.

Eventually, all of them would come to her completely. Her entire family.

"Hello, children." Eve's eyes glinted in maternal pleasure. "Time to work."

---

Standing in the tree stand close-by, the creature that wore Adam Milligan's face smirked thoughtfully. He could see, the way only an angel and demon could, the split in Eve's power.

She was changed. Divided.

A useful tool.

Far below him, he could feel Hell, which still remained locked to him, writhing in its pained throes as monsters invaded and tore the walls down around the demons. He even thought he could hear the calls of the Legion as they were unleashed.

It might take months for the monsters to be expelled again, months for the demons to realize the damage as Eve's new manipulations began to infect them and the humans on Earth. Months before even the angels moved against her.

Whether she realized it or not, Eve had helped him.

---

Stepping into the bunker only made Castiel feel more heartsick and alone than he had before. Without the Winchesters, the halls seemed dark and lonely, with no warmth or conversation. He'd come to look at this place as his home but really, without them it felt empty, even though he could hear the television and smell toast. Slumping against the wall leading to the common room, he closed his eyes and for a second felt the human urge to slam his fist into the wall.

It was too clear to him still. He could still see Dean's pain all over his face and the way he had shook and tried to find the words. Castiel had nearly watched his friend die before his very eyes. He had never felt that helpless as an angel before but this time he had been.

He let his head rest back on the cold concrete brick and listened to the low sounds of the bunker. Just down the hall Meg was reading something aloud, barely able to be heard over the hum of the generator, and he closed his eyes as he chuckled bitterly. Three years ago he would have gone to her seeking comfort, letting her caustic view of the world challenge him and force him to relinquish the power of angel righteousness to her more basic demon sensibilities. Three years ago he would have thought it strange but done it anyway because it would bring some consolation.

But right now, he knew if they met he would deliberately fight with her as a way of punishing himself for what had happened to Dean. He wasn't sure why he knew that, just that it would happen. If he had learned one thing about himself in his time as a human, it was that he was more than willing to hurt himself and even others if he thought he needed to.

Castiel rolled himself away from the wall and made his weary way towards Dean's room to pack a bag for him. Sam hadn't asked him to do so but it would keep him busy until he was ready to face Meg again. Swinging open the door, he took in a deep breath and nearly took a step in without thinking.

A small voice in the room across from Dean's stopped him. He knew who it was, knew he should just move on. Just move on, he thought to himself but he heard her giggling. Closing Dean's door again, he crossed the hall instead while still listening to Nyx as she talked to someone.

Forcing down his instinct to run in and be sure she was okay, Castiel instead cracked the door open further and peeked around it. The spare room had been made almost homey with the blankets tossed around and a lamp casting warm light over once sterile and cold walls. As he leaned against the doorframe and took the room in, he remembered the long nights he had slept in here himself. They weren't the fondest of memories and it had never felt like his own room.

But the sight of his daughter sitting, surrounded by heavy blankets and pillows in an apparent fort, made him smile and move to lean against an old desk. Unaware of him, Nyx was making noises as she played with her torn toy and he saw her impatiently push her dark hair over her shoulder like her mother would. She turned on the bed and grabbed a drawing full of black scribbles only to scratch through it with an orange crayon. Still muttering away, she bounced around until she was in the same spot as before and tossed the drawing away.

Curled up on the big bed, Nyx looked so comfortable and happy that he took a seat on the edge of the bed by her instead of leaving. She was talking lowly as she played with her unicorn to some imaginary friends of hers that she always talked to, or so Dean had said.

Castiel marvelled at that. His daughter seemed so happy to retreat into imagination, which was a remarkable thing to him; angels and demons were not given to much imagination beyond manipulation.

His daughter. Heaven, that felt good to think and Castiel felt more than a little pleasure and pride in it. He smiled as he watched her and waited until she stopped talking before he cleared his throat.

"Nyx?"

She jumped when she realized he was there, grabbing the toy up between them to hold it protectively. Castiel watched her huddle up in her stack of blankets and pillows before she stared up at him wide-eyed. He gave her a half-smile and made sure to look relaxed.

It was easier to focus on her than to stay angry with himself. Nyx's eyes were searching his with a directness only a child could have and he made a point of looking down at her unicorn.

"He needs to be fixed," he said after a long pause, pointing at the stuffed toy. She looked down at it, nervously licking her lips, and Castiel still smiled as he waited. Finally Nyx looked back up at him, clearly puzzled by his comment. "I can fix him for you, if you want."

"Like him like this," Nyx muttered though she was pulling at the stuffing from a rip with her tiny fingers. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes with her other hand. "He wasn't happy bein' pretty."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say as she continued to play with the stuffing. If she was happy he would leave it, he decided, and he scrambled to think of something better to say. But when one of the tiny black eyes fell off and left a gaping hole in the unicorn's head, he saw her lower lip tremble and realized she had been lying. She picked up the eye and tried to fix it back onto the unicorn herself just by pressing it into the ruined fabric. His own heart almost hurt when her eyes welled with tears of frustration because her toy was so ruined.

"Nyx?"

Her tired little face turned up to him and he smiled, holding out his hand.

"Can I fix him? Please?" he asked and with tearful nod she handed the toy over to him. Castiel looked down and ran his fingers over the unicorn's body. It was likely such silly thing to use his Grace for but he didn't want her to cry like this.

The stitching repaired, the splotchy fabric cleaned itself, and the small stub of a faded glitter dappled horn fixed upright as his power manipulated it. Nyx watched, unable to hide how curious she was as his fingers glowed a little. Castiel caught her watching, smiled at her and then looked down as he finished his work. He left it a little imperfect, as she seemed to like it that way with its patchy look, but he made sure to strengthen the seams.

When his fingers snagged on a bit of stitching, he even wondered how many times Linda had fixed it for her. He stroked the faded purple fabric as the last thread knotted itself and noticed the way she stared at him now. There was still some distrust there but she looked like she was trying so hard to remember him clearly.

He handed the toy back to her and she hugged the unicorn tightly. "He's all better. Is he your friend?" he asked, trying hard to remember how to talk to such a small child.

"Clarence is my best friend," she admitted and he winced a little at the name. Nyx pressed her cheek to the now clean fabric and didn't seem to notice Castiel's look. It hadn't been until she said the toy's name that he realized that Meg hadn't uttered one of her nicknames for him since he'd brought her back. Not feathers, wings, tree topper… Clarence… none of that. While before her constant teasing and nicknames had been exasperating, now he missed them.

He watched as Nyx continued to press her head into the material as if to hide from him. Carefully, he stretched his power out over her mind and felt remnants of a nightmare there. Before he could get much further, something nudged at him. Like a closing door, he was pushed back but he knew what he had felt.

She'd been dreaming and had been scared of whatever it was.

"Nyx, are you having bad dreams?" he asked. She blinked and looked up at him before nodding. Castiel sighed at the fear he felt in her. "I felt your dreams."

He knew she was confused but he reached his hand out slowly to pat her knee. "You can… if you have a bad dream, you can find me."

She stared at him, obviously still nervous with him so close. Castiel patted her knee again before he stood up and dusted himself off. He was almost at the door when heard a faint sound behind him that made him turn to see Nyx fumbling with her fingers nervously.

"Thank you," she whispered, her childish voice stumbling a little as she nervously looked away. Though she spoke with the usual hesitant way a child trying to learn their words might, he knew what he had heard. Taking it as a signal, Castiel smiled and came back to sit beside her on the bed. He watched the top of her dark head until she finally looked up at him. Nyx chewed on her lower lip and finally crossed her hands over her chest in imitation of Meg when she was angry.

When she was still quiet, Castiel knew he had to speak first. "Nyx, why don't you want to talk to me?"

Maybe it was stupid to hope that her fear would give so quickly but it was obvious she knew what he meant.

"Don't 'member you," Nyx said petulantly and with the typical sort of childish attitude, she forgot that he had helped her. "But you make mommy sad. You...go away!"

"I-I can't," Castiel whispered in surprise. "I wanted to help her too."

His daughter's eyes appeared to grow darker the longer she looked at him. She stuttered and lisped over her next words but it didn't keep them from cutting. "If I had—had a daddy, he'd make you go!"

Closing his eyes, the angel steeled himself against childish misunderstanding and anger. "Nyx, I'm your father."

"Not suppose-ta lie." She raised the unicorn tighter to her face. "You not around."

"I would have…"

"Bad people lie. Aunt Linda said bad people lie." Those blue eyes fixed on him. "You hurt mommy and you lied! Daddies don't hurt, don't lie."

He flinched because, Heaven, she was too quick and too bright to lie to. "You can do both, Nyx. I'm not lying this time. Remember?"

His fingers abruptly touched her arm and a sudden shock of electricity made him pull his hand back. It was as if she was warning him and the crackle that made his fingers tingle was familiar. It reminded him of when he had first felt her power, when even in the womb she had thrown him outside Rufus' cabin.

Nyx blinked a few times to hide her tears before she sniffled loudly. His hand brushed over hers again, gentler so that this time there was no shock. Only the tremble of her skin beneath his touch.

"Do you remember me? My touch? My voice?" Her head lifted up and he used his Grace to slowly let the memories he had kept tucked away, safe and sound, be shared with her. Memories of his murmuring to her as a pregnant Meg had slept, of the constant thread of connection he had used to keep her feeling safe and calm. Of how he had touched Meg's stomach and projected his devotion to her.

"I used to talk to you when you were safe and tucked away inside your mother. As a baby," Castiel whispered and he crossed his legs on the mattress. Nyx plucked at her toy's fuzzy mane and he let his Grace ease away from her. "You remember my voice, don't you? Remember how I told you stories and talked to you?"

Nyx nodded and he smiled. "I missed talking to you," he admitted. Nyx sniffled hard again, still looking confused.

"Why'd you come?"

"I want to protect you."

"From bad people? The ones that hurt?" Nyx looked upset and he noticed the more upset she was the harder she had to work at her words. "But you bad. You left."

"Sometimes we can be bad when we want to be good."

Her small head tilted down and stubbornly she shook her head. "You hurt mo-mommy."

"I didn't want to. I loved her… still love her, and love you," he said. "Nyx, I…"

"Don't want me," Nyx whispered and her voice was so soft that he almost thought he hadn't heard her right. Horrified by what he had heard, he could only stare at her.

Suddenly he realized why Nyx was stuck on him being a bad person. She'd had Meg but she'd not had him and he remembered how close they had been connected even when she had been inside of Meg, even when she had been newborn. She was a child of an angel and a demon; it made too much sense for her to have a better memory than a normal child. If her memory of him had been reawakened before, like Meg's had, then he didn't know what exactly she remembered. He let his power search a little deeper and felt what she was feeling through that connection.

She thought he hadn't wanted her. She'd thought she had been abandoned by him because he didn't want her.

"I did want to be with you, both of you." He looked at his hands. "Badly."

She sniffled hard and looked down at the unicorn he'd fixed. "Left."

"I came back."

"You hurt."

Castiel had no answer for that. Nyx was already proving intuitive when it came to her parents. She was smarter than he had thought possible but Castiel knew she was struggling to understand. He wasn't even sure what to say to help her.

"Castiel." Meg's voice was pitched low and he turned to see her standing at the door. Her face was strained and she looked curiously tired. "She should be asleep."

As if frustrated by her mother, Nyx huffed. "Not tired."

"Listen to your mother," Castiel said automatically as Meg came to stand beside the bed. She raised an eyebrow at him in surprise but he ignored it. "You need to go to bed."

He saw that little jaw tense up and was immediately reminded of Meg yet again. "Don't have-ta listen to you."

"Yes, you do. Go to sleep," he said, ignoring her huffiness and pulling the top quilt back. She scooted underneath, grumbling the entire time, and tucked herself in before turning her back to them. Castiel shook his head. How stubborn she was! She reminded him of Meg in more ways than he had realized.

Gently, he touched her shoulder as he tucked the unicorn in with her and saw her tiny arm latch around its neck in a chokehold. His Grace circled her and being as discreet as he could he let it lull her to sleep. Whether she wanted to or not, the familiarity of it seemed to soothe her. When he finally stood up, Meg was staring down at Nyx with arms crossed over her chest. Their eyes met and he followed her to the hall without pause.

There was something ominous in the way Meg closed Nyx's door behind herself.

"She's very smart," he said when the silence was too much. "I can feel it."

"Well, angel-demon baby has to have some brains I guess." Meg leaned back against the door. "Gets it from me I bet."

"She's remarkable, Meg," he continued, unable to help the pride in his voice. The demon eyed him skeptically.

"She's also hurting."

That yanked him out of his pleasant mood. "And that's my fault, I know," Castiel snapped irritably.

"Not just yours." She shook her head and started to walk away from him. Castiel gave Nyx's room one last look before he followed her towards the common room. "I ignored her earlier. My head's been hurting and I forgot how she…. Well. Sometimes I still don't think my brain is used to being in Mommy Demon mode."

"You are good at it."

"Gee, thanks, Castiel," Meg said sarcastically. "Glad you approve of how I raised the lil' bit after this many years."

His own emotions were rubbed raw after seeing Dean lying in the hospital, after learning how Nyx was afraid he hadn't wanted to be her father. He had to remind himself that Nyx was in the other room in order to calm down.

"So what happened with the Winchesters?"

"Dean suffered from a heart attack," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Considering all the booze and pie, there's a shocker," the demon said. She was so thoughtless about Dean's condition that Castiel grabbed her arm and yanked her around.

"This isn't funny, Meg." Her eyes snapped to black immediately in reaction and he let fragments of his own power show in his. "These are my friends."

"Sorry if you think I should give a fuck about Dean and Sam Winchester but I'm a demon again. I don't care," she said, voice low so that he knew she was angry. "I will never care, Castiel. Don't try to make me seem human just because the old me is awake and you forgot what I was like."

"After all we've been through," he started, wanting to defend Dean and Sam. The peace he'd almost found with Nyx evaporated completely when faced with Meg.

"Hi, I'm Meg. I'm a demon." She jerked her arm free and waved her hand over her face before she started to walk away. "Or is that still hard to tell?"

"Just because you are a demon doesn't mean you need to be a…"

Meg ground to a halt and turned slowly on her heel to stare at him. He stuttered on his next word and she arched her brow. Approaching him with a threatening swagger, she gestured encouragingly. "Come on, Castiel, say it. Spit it out!"

"Bitch," he said finally, goaded. Meg's smirk transformed into something cruel.

"You learned you some big boy words while I was amnesia girl, huh?" Castiel glared at her as she spoke in that mocking high voice. She reached out and roughly pinched his cheek. "Guess you let Dean teach you some things about how to actually treat us demons."

He grabbed her hand when she touched him. "Don't do that."

"You're just pissed because I'm not living up to what you wanted," Meg continued. "What'd you expect? Sweet reunion? Me forgetting it all?"

She tugged on her hand and he tightened his grip so that he felt the delicate bones in her wrist grind together. "Let me go, Castiel," she warned.

"No." It wasn't clear if he was answering her questions or her demand.

Meg's eyes were onyx even under the fluorescents and she swung out her fist hard, aiming for his jaw. He caught the blow before she could follow through and they spun together even as she tried to telekinetically shove him away. Using her weakness to his advantage, he pinned her against the wall and kept her hands trapped in his. The circle of his arms kept her braced and unable to run, kept her still.

Though he knew he should feel some desire as she was pressed into him and she was so close, he was only aware his anger at her and the way she continued to find ways to get under his skin. Three years later and she still frustrated him more than he liked to admit.

"Let. Me. Go." Meg spoke slower, as if to snap him out of it, and he cautiously let her arms go. He had already aggressively backed her up to keep her from slipping by him and he made no move to let her pass.

"I am trying to protect you both but you are deliberately…"

"Can you think of one reason why this should be easy for you?" Meg ground out and he ignored the way she glared at him as she was going to go for his throat. "One damn reason."

"Because I can't let Nyx see something like this," he growled low and he leaned down as if to punctuate his warning. "Play the demon all you like but we both need to protect her from whatever it is that is starting to hunt us."

"Play the—." She shook her head, still almost shaking in her anger as she looked away. Castiel watched her face closely and when she turned her head back around he was so close he could see his own reflection shimmering in her black eyes. He waited to see if she was about to fight him and the longer he waited, the more he began to notice details he might not have noticed if she distracted him. The faint press of her hips on his, the almost heady scent of her, her anger at him causing her face to flush, the way her trueface was nearly snarling at him to back off…

God, it was so beautiful.

Horrified with his own sudden reaction to her, he backed off and noticed her watching him warily. When he saw how her chest rose and fell rapidly, he knew he wasn't the only one who had felt thrown by their proximity.

They stood in awkward silence, Meg still against the wall and Castiel breathing just as deeply as she was. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear it of the muddle she'd caused. He wasn't even sure how she did that, even if it wasn't deliberate, but it felt familiar.

The loud bang of someone dropping something heavy on the iron grate caused them to look away from each other.

"Am I interrupting?" Kevin asked. He grinned at them and then lost it when he realized that it wasn't romance he was interrupting

"No," Meg snapped and she rocked forward. "We're done here."

"No, we aren't." Castiel's arm moved to brace on the wall and blocked her from going. Kevin swallowed as he watched the demon's head turn slowly towards Castiel. "We'll be with you in a second."

The prophet stared at Meg. "You're back to normal?"

She refused to look at him, her eyes on Castiel again. "Define normal."

"Kevin, go." The angel glanced at him. "Now."

Hands in the air, Kevin almost ran out of the hall and Castiel turned back to Meg.

"Are we going to spend the rest of our lives fighting?"

"Rest of our lives?" she repeated and then rolled her eyes. "You are so damn dramatic. Seriously."

He simply stared at her. "What do you want from me?" he asked. "Apologies? More explanations?"

"How about we can end this soap opera level angst for a while? My head can't take it."

He didn't move. "You should have been able to fight me. But you still feel weak."

"Oh, we can fight later if we have to. Just not in the mood now." Meg jerked in her place when she felt him close in on her again. Eyes watching his face cautiously, she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

"Your head?"

"Just headaches. It feels like memories coming back and just tiring me out and then there's you getting all angel on me. Can't say I feel like putting up with much."

Castiel reached out and brushed his fingers over her temple, and Meg at first tried to pull back until his power snared her. He murmured something under his breath and his touch firmed until she felt his two fingers pressing on her forehead. The cool touch sent a numbing sensation through her skin, his Grace touching at her darkness until the two coiled around each other. The feeling was strangely intimate and he watched her lips part in surprise, her body just slightly arched into his. Her darkness snarled and bit at his light but he braced his other hand over her head and waited as his Grace found the cracks in her power until he realized that she wasn't fully healed yet from the effects of the spell. It was strange to be this close to the demon again and he found his eyes drooping a little as he tried to help her heal.

He felt her darkness crackling finally, as if it was a groggy thing being woken up again, and heard her make a low fluttering sigh. Head touching the wall behind her, Castiel breathed out and his fingers eased their pressure. When they both woke from the stupor they were in, he was pressed fully against her and he could feel her breath on his neck. Meg's eyes lazily opened and her head turned to let him see her eyes had become brown once again. Then the haze lifted and she realized what had happened.

With a shove, she pushed by him and shook her head. "Whatever that was about. Thanks for the boost, I guess."

He wasn't sure if she was stronger but she did seem to be reacting faster. The sudden shift between them was confusing and Castiel tried to think of something to say. One look at her closed off expression had him wisely changing the subject.

"You know that she's dreaming?"

She nodded. "I felt it and it was weird. You?" At his nod, she sighed. "She never used to dream like that I think."

Castiel glanced at his hands. "What should we do?"

"We?" She pointed between them. "There is no…"

"Whether you like it or not," he interrupted, "we are going to have to work together. Somehow." He looked down the hall. "You should speak to Kevin about what he's seen."

The demon followed his glance down the hall and then looked at him. "What does the kid have to do with any of it?"

"Whatever he's been dreaming, Meg, has been about you and about Nyx. Ask him about the hellhounds." Putting his hands back in his pockets, he backed up a step to let her by. "I'll see to Dean and Sam."

"Fine." She walked around him, carefully putting distance between them. He stared the wall he'd kept her against, imagining he could see her shadow imprinted there, and let her get a few steps.

"Meg."

The demon glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked up and then shrugged.

"I think you're right."

He was gone before she could ask him what the hell he meant.

---

Hands tented under his chin, Sam watched the slow, forced way Dean's chest would rise and then fall. Now that he was supposedly in the clear, the hiss of the machines wasn't as loud as they had been before but they had kept him under sedation and oxygen a little longer just to be sure. After the last check-up, the doctor had made Dean's recovery seem so simple. Rest, medication, quiet living for a while would make everything okay.

Sam rolled his eyes and rubbed at them. Right. Quiet living. That would happen. They clearly didn't know his brother.

He reached out and patted Dean's hand fondly. "Gonna have to watch out for you this time, big brother," he whispered. "We've been through too much for you to croak over a heart attack. That's too easy. You die, then it'll be when you're going down in a blaze of glory with me at your side and we both know it."

He looked down and removed his hand slowly before putting his hands to his head and wearily clenching his fingers in his hair. His own heart no longer hurt and even the tingling in his arm was gone, though he thought his fingers still felt a bit numb. His headache was still there, throbbing in his temples and making him feel ill.

"You know." Dean's voice was hoarse and he coughed harshly. Sam's head jerked up and he saw that his brother's eyes slitted open just a little, just enough for him to distinguish the green of them. "That was a crappy pep talk."

He tried to laugh and started coughing again. Quickly grabbing the water left on the bedside table, Sam helped him lift his head and held a cup to his lips until the water was drained. Sighing, Dean wearily sagged back on the pillows.

"Damn it, Dean." Sam chuckled. "You scared me."

"Scared myself." His eyes fluttered before focussing on the ceiling. "Where am I?"

"Lawrence Memorial. Cas winged you here when you collapsed. I found the fake insurance Garth set us up with so we should be good for a few more days if we need it."

"Thank God for that." Dean plucked at the IV. "When can I get out?"

"Soon. They wanted you on observation."

"Damn, I want out now. I just…damn I hate hospitals."

"Yeah, I know." Sam smiled and pulled the chair closer. "Look, Dean, I…"

"You felt it too, huh?" Dean rolled his head on the pillow toward him. He saw his brother nod, saw how earnestly he looked at him, and realizing what was wrong he sighed weakly. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I was scared too." Dean sniffed hard as if to hold back tears and masked it by rubbing at his eyes. The sight of his brother, his strong and capable brother, caving under the fear made Sam swallow down the lump in his throat. "Knife wounds, gun shots, even monster bites I can deal with. But a heart attack?" Dean shut his eyes a little as the drugs kicked in. "Didn't see that coming."

"No one would."

"Cas couldn't heal me."

"No. Said that the spell on us makes it hard for him to solve anything like this." Sam glanced at the monitor to be sure Dean wasn't just going to suddenly fade on him. His voice was so slow that it was clear he was about to fall asleep again soon and the monitor showed his heartbeat was slowing just a little.

"I saw her, Sam. But it wasn't her. Body was all different but it was just like her."

"Who?"

"Didn't bite me though. Said there was something wrong with me just before my heart gave out." He blinked and his eyes widened as if remembering something. "What the hell came out of there? I…I..."

"Dean, who did you see?" Sam demanded when his brother's words began to slur even more.

Dean's head rolled back toward him, eyes shutting and his hands going slack on his chest. "Eve. Or something like her."

---

Standing just inside the emergency room of a Kansas hospital, the monster stared up at the people who had come in for late night help. Broken bones, bloody cuts, heart attacks; he sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and tasted their weakness on his tongue. He could smell the humans, the medicine, the sickly scents of death lingering within the hospital. Under the odours, he could smell demons. Demons who were waiting for someone or something to give them orders. Somewhere, deep in this hospital, they were manipulating and serving their purpose for their ruler.

The awareness in him was so strong that he licked his lips hungrily.

He was vicious where she had been kind, interested in only destruction where she had been concerned with creation. They shared the same thoughts and memories, even the same mind because they'd once been the same. But now, separated by hundreds of miles and thousands of people between, he was free to do their joint will.

Licking his lips once more, he started for the desk and tapped the bell repeatedly for the joy of it.

A young man in red scrubs looked up and quickly removed the bell from his reach. "Can I help you?"

"I need something from you."

"Do you have an illness or injury?"

"Oh, illness. Though I am a cure." He laughed as if that was the most hilarious joke he had ever heard. "I guess you could say it depends on your definition of the word."

The nurse gave a roll of the eyes and looked closer at him to do his own assessment. The glassy eyes, so bloodshot the whites of them were nearly gone, the grey tacky texture to his skin, his too thin of face having the gaunt and hollow look of a starved man, and his head appeared to move at odd angles when he looked around in a bird-like way; all of it looked like he was deathly ill. Nodding that it was likely a drunk who had staggered in, he quickly jotted something down on a form.

"We'll get someone in to make sure you aren't too sick to make it home, sir. What's your name?"

He licked his lips again, though there were no moistening such chapped and thoroughly bitten skin. "What was the first man of your kind called?"

"Uh…" Thrown off-guard, the nurse nervously looked at the larger woman behind him. She eyed the drunk thoughtfully but shrugged. They'd seen worse here. "If we're talkin' the Bible, sir, that'd be Adam."

"Adam. Huh. I forgot all about that. Such a human name, much like my other one." The grin widened and instead of softening the features it turned him perfectly horrific. "I'm Adam. Here to be a Father until the Mother finds me."

His eyes slicked to black, twin bottomless depths made hypnotic by the light dancing within it like flame. The nurse stared into his eyes with nothing short of wonder.

"I need sons and daughters." Adam reached out and stroked his face. "I will be a far kinder father to you than your own, Jeffery."

"How did you…"

Leaning over, Adam kissed him on the mouth deeply and the young man sagged forward when he let him go, his lips torn open and bleeding. He began to convulse on the desk so violently that the older nurse shouted his name and Adam turned, hand touching her face to stop her.

"Even one such as you has your worth." She had frozen, equally hypnotized by his eyes. "Tell me, Lenora. Do you believe in angels and demons?"

"I… yes."

"Monsters?"

Her voice was tiny. "Now I do."

"Thank you so much. I'm glad." Adam's politeness was marred by the fangs that suddenly slid down from his gums as he leaned forward. "This will hurt."

The warning was only to keep her still and rigid as he buried his teeth in her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head when a sharp pain went through her from head to toe, paralyzing her in her place, and when he released her she fell back heavily on the tiled floor. Like her fellow nurse, she began to shake and pitch around.

Both of them died within moments of the venom settling in their bodies.

Reaching up, Adam sucked on his bloody fingers and turned away. "Come on," he called out in a sing song voice and the lights above him flickered, making shadows dance through the room. His power bent the reality around them, stilled it, and he let it send fresh pulses of life into the corpses. The dead reanimated slowly and he watched the muscles twitch and the blood streaking from their mouths turn black. His grin, still malicious, widened as both nurses' eyes opened. They gasped and heaved for breath as they were painfully reborn.

"Time to wake the others," he ordered. "Find the demons. We need stronger souls than the humans. You humans aren't worth what we are to do."

They nodded, still in a haze of pain and confusion.

"This won't last long. Neither of you is quite what I need. I need demons," he declared. "After you bring me the demons that we can all smell here, throw yourselves off the roof."

Both of them nodded obediently and went to do as he said. He smiled and turned to the full waiting room he could see just behind the glass doors. People too consumed by their own lives to worry about what had happened at the front desk.

"I always wondered what revenge would feel like." He licked a spot of blood off his hand. "I like it."