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.

15. Ticking (When Angels Hide)

Summary: The unexpected revival of the safe-house creates a haven but Meg's growing unrest has Castiel concerned that what passed between them is temporary. As Sam's illness progresses and Dean deals with more heart pain, they realize that the cracks in what saved them three years ago have deepened and at the worst of times.

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Part 11: Ticking (When Angels Hide)

…Three years ago…

"Clarence, what have you done?"

"I wanted you safe. I really think you'll like this place. It's very warm and protected."

" Did you build me a cage?" she gritted out.

"I thought you'd like it." Castiel sounded offended and as she turned around she saw him looking equally put-out with her. "I did it for you."

"This will be her room. She's real. This is real." She shook her head, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "This is real."

"So what do we do?" Meg demanded as he leaned on her. "We never talked about that. Visitation rights, who pays child support, whatever."

"We protect her. That is all we should worry about."

Both brothers whistled as they came in. "Cozy," Sam muttered, glancing at the way it was laid out.

"Thank you. I worked hard at it," Castiel said as he came in behind them and closed the door.

"No one knows it's here?"

"It is heavily warded to repel attacks from demons and angels among other things. It will keep them out and it remains hidden," Castiel said as he followed Dean to the living room. "Meg needed a safe place."

—

Safe. That was the feeling that first came as the high ceilings and painted walls surrounded them. It was an old house, made icy by the winter storm outside, so cold that they could see their own breath. But within the walls, there was an immediate sensation of protection. Reacting to their presence, it went through the house in a ripple of magic, as if the house itself were a living thing that was letting its own power fall around from ceiling in wave. Just as quickly, it disappeared. The wards reviving pulsed for a moment longer but then stopped in slow, exaggerated hums, until the house itself was as silent as before. As cold as before.

But that feeling of being sheltered remained.

Castiel looked around the small living room as he settled Nyx down on the big comfy arm chair close to the space heater. She was still wrapped up in the thick blanket he'd taken from the bunker, and despite how the house had reacted she hadn't really woken up. Still caught in a dreamy state, Nyx made a sound while nestling down further, not minding the dusty chair or the cold, stale air. He watched her, ready to wake her up to see where they were, but then he felt her slipping deeper and deeper into sleep. Maybe it was better to let her rest, he thought, because knowing her she would ask endless questions.

Tucking her in tighter, he turned around to where Meg was wandering the small room as if looking for something. She had dropped her bag on the floor, and as he watched she began running her fingers over the white drapes and checking on the burned wards. Under the peeling paint, they had begun to show through and she traced an old Enochian ward to keep out enemies. Castiel wondered if she was reminiscing as much as he longed to; more had happened in this old house than he had ever expected.

She noticed him watching her. "I didn't think it would still be standing."

Considering everything that had happened since she had last been here, to find it relatively unscathed by time had been a shock. For both of them.

"I don't know why I kept it, but I used a few spells here and there to hide it. It wasn't hard," Castiel said. "No humans come out this far and it didn't take much magic to create that illusion. I…maybe I was hoping I would need it again, sooner or later."

He moved away from Nyx and followed her into the kitchen area. Meg eyed the stains on the wall, painted wards from just before Nyx's birth, and the empty glasses still on the table. Beyond the covered furniture, it was as if time had stood still in this place. She took a step to look out the rear window and her toe caught on a matchbox, tossed on the floor and surrounded by a small heap of matches.

"What happened here?" The demon crouched and picked up the scattered matches, inspecting a few that had been struck and burned out, by the look of it. When she peered up at Castiel for an answer, he seemed almost uncomfortable.

A darker memory, of coming back here as a human to rage at God and threatening to burn this place down, made Castiel look out at Nyx. "Nothing."

Shrugging a slim shoulder, Meg decided not to push for answers she didn't need and looked at the rear stairwell. "I thought you would have kept coming back here. A safe place for you to hide if you were human, that sort of thing."

When she looked back at him, he was staring at her with that intense need again. "It wouldn't have felt the same," he admitted.

Meg didn't answer, just ran her hands over the counter and made a face at the slight film of powder her fingers tracked in. "Dusty, but hopefully everything still works."

Castiel nodded and waved his hand at the generator just outside the window. "Everything else should be working. I think the electrical…"

As if on cue, the generator suddenly hummed to life, lights flickering on and the small radiator in the corner of the kitchen making a few rattling sounds. It buzzed louder and then with a small puff of dusty air, it began to work again. Heat and light suddenly flooded the cold kitchen, and everything seemed brighter and warmer.

But the only thing Castiel noticed was Meg. She was obviously unsure of what to think. Her eyes darted back and forth over the walls, the doors, the front windows, as if planning a route of escape.

"We can find another place," he offered. Her eyes flicked back to him sharply and he leaned back against the counter. "I know that this house has some unpleasant memories for you."

Both of them thought back to that last night spent in its walls and he cleared his throat while trying to think of another place to be.

But Meg only shrugged. "Not all of them were bad, Cas." Ignoring how startled that admission made him, she nudged between him and the wall, not noticing the slightest lean he did in her direction. Muttering to herself about dusty ghost houses, she dragged one of the rickety wood chairs over beside table. Castiel watched her sit and then did the same, putting a chair just across from hers. Her dark eyes still wandered over the room as if absorbing the enormity of being here once again.

"I guess I'm just surprised to see it still standing."

Castiel ran his palms together as he stared at her. "It is safe here, Meg."

"As long as Azazel and Eve are both looking for us, we're not safe."

"We're safest together."

"That doesn't mean very much, when you really look at it."

He tentatively touched her knee as he leaned in, forcing her to pay attention to him. "But you know that we can't keep running with Nyx all across the country, trying to stay one step ahead. We need to plan our own way of dealing with this, of letting Dean and Sam do what they need to do. This is our fight, maybe it shouldn't be theirs."

She looked away and he narrowed his gaze a little, the hand on her knee still there as if to ground her to him. It wasn't hard to read her thoughts just by her expression alone.

"I'm not putting you in a cage, Meg." The way her head snapped back towards him let him know he had guessed right. "Meg, this is…"

"Nyx is going to wake up with questions, Cas." He waited as she tried to distract him, and he knew that she was starting to sort it out . Accept it in that way demons had when faced with a choice they weren't sure they liked. "Are you ready for that?"

He actually looked insulted. "Yes."

"Good."

---

Not for the first time she was dreaming of being protected and loved, warmed by light that kept tucked around her like a circle of feathery wings. The voices murmuring around her were familiar but she liked the way she was so warm and protected. There was nothing to be frightened of, her friends had said, she would be safe. Now even walking on the beaches in her dreams wasn't scary; in those dreams she just buried her tiny toes in the sand and let warm water touch her in waves. Hearing voices, more real than the ones she sometimes heard, woke Nyx up a little from her deep sleep so that she was just bordering on the cusp of dreaming and waking.

"Are you ready for that?" Her mother's voice. Nyx really didn't remember when she was supposed to be back. Dean and Sam said soon when she had cried about missing her. Maybe she had come back early.

A deeper voice, just as familiar now, answered her mother with a simple, "Yes."

"Good."

Even though she was determined to stay asleep, Nyx cried out as something close by banged against a window and was followed by buzzing sounds and a loud crackle of something turning on. Pulling the blanket down, she opened her eyes to the dark room she was in and automatically saw monsters looming all around her. White massive things that loomed in the corners, dark shadows that swept around the room as the lights began to flicker on and off, and all of them scarier than the shadows of the bunker. With a small shriek, she buried her head in her arms. Part of her wanted to call out but she just flipped her blanket over her head and cuddled Clarence closer to her chest. He'd keep her safe, she thought, Clarence always kept her safe.

"Nyx?"

Something soft brushed her hands, like warm feathers, and she hesitantly opened her eyes to see a glowing halo of light. It eased a little, parting around the dark-haired man who was staring down at her, and she blinked and rubbed at her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

She pressed back into the cushions while tugging her toy up with her, disorientated by the darkness and the strange room. It smelled old, like the bunker, but she knew all the rooms in the bunker and this wasn't one of them.

"Nyx? It's us." She felt a hand in her hair and tipped her head back to look up at her mother. Meg let her go and cocked her head on the side. The upside down sight of her mother caused Nyx to relinquish her death grip on the unicorn. She blinked a few times and then looked back down at Castiel. He had crouched down, on level with her, and she nervously began to twist her fingers into tiny clenched fists.

"We came back."

"Safe?" Nyx asked, looking up at Meg again. The demon nodded.

"For now." The little girl's eyes went to Castiel again and he sighed, reaching out towards her.

"You left me," she said accusingly as she slid out from under his hands, getting to the floor and stomping around the room. It didn't register to such a small child that the looming shadows now weren't so scary to her because of her parents being here, keeping her safe. In the start of a temper tantrum, she set her toy down on the floor before she turned and planted her hands on her hips. Her cherub-innocent face was scowling, and she seemed irritated with them.

Castiel gave her a bewildered look and then glanced at Meg, who eyed Nyx while looking a little impressed.

Seeing Meg starting to smirk, the angel sighed. "She's more like you than I realized," he muttered as he stood up and turned to look at his daughter.

"She just needs to know why we're here. It's not complicated, Cas." Meg slid around him and took a seat on the couch. He muttered something under his breath and she nudged him with her knee to shut him up before speaking. "We're in an old house, Nyx. We used to live here for a while. A long time ago."

She looked up and around at the way her mother gestured around this room. "Why?"

"Because this place is safe." Castiel sat beside Meg and watched the way Nyx crossed her arms over her chest next. She did such an incredible impression of her mother that it was like looking at a small clone. The unconvinced look she gave him made him glance at Meg for support. "I promise."

Nyx fidgeted, coming a bit closer to them and dragging Clarence on the ground with her. "Don't like it."

Castiel sucked in a deep breath. He'd been glad Meg had come so willingly but he hadn't anticipated Nyx not wanting to be here.

"Where did you want to go?" Meg asked but it sounded more like she was indulging the girl than giving her a real option. Nyx put her unicorn on the couch beside Castiel and looked deep in thought before pointing at the door.

"Bunker. Liked it."

"Dean and Sam had to go on a hunt, Nyx. You're safest here, with us," Castiel said.

"Don't want to."

"You haven't even seen the house," he started and Meg stomped hard on his foot to get him to be quiet. Both angel and demon glanced at each other, because this had an eerie similarity to the way Meg had felt when she had first come here years ago. The petulant thrust to Nyx's lower lip became more pronounced and he could only stare, surprised by the steel in those blue eyes. Muttering under her breath about stubborn kids, Meg stood up and walked over to her, pulling a few white sheets off the old furniture as she went. Nyx sneezed at the dust cloud that was smacked off, and wrinkled her nose a little. But both Meg and Castiel noticed how interested she was when the sheets revealed a stack of toys and books Castiel had left here years ago.

The demon walked a slow circle around Nyx, taking more sheets off. "You don't want to stay here, huh?"

Tiny shoulders shrugged as she followed Meg towards the stairs. She slipped her hand into Meg's and squeezed a little. "Scared."

"Of what?" Meg asked, unable to keep herself from sounding surprised. Even though she had had her problems with Castiel's actions three years ago in finding this place, she had never found it frightening. She opened the front closet and found that there were more dusty supplies, things Castiel had brought for them in the long, quiet weeks they had spent here alone. Try as she might, she couldn't forget those days and now she wasn't so sure she wanted to. Nyx came up beside her and peered in, picking up a small stuffed toy curiously.

But her silence was a problem. Typically when she was in a new place the first thing she did was investigate and ask a million questions all at once.

"Nyx, answer me." Meg's voice hardened just a little to get the response she wanted and she closed the door to look down on her daughter. Behind them, Castiel had stood and was leaning against the wall. At her stern glance, he started sifting through the books on the other shelf to appear as if he wasn't eavesdropping. "No lying either."

"Want to stay. But…." Her daughter's face took on a look of childish frustration and Meg knelt when she pulled on her hand insistently. Reaching out, she took her small chin in her hand and held her steady so that she could look in her eyes. Nyx's voice lowered, afraid of being overheard, and she pushed against her knees. The hard look in her eyes had left, softened by fear and concern that she was in trouble. "He's gonna leave us."

Meg sucked in a breath, surprised by her words. She glanced at Castiel's back and it was obvious by the tense set of his shoulders that he had heard. He dropped the book he was holding on to the floor and Nyx squeaked, jumping behind Meg for protection. The angel looked more distressed than Meg had seen in the past week, his mouth half-parted in grimace.

"She's… she's wrong." He came towards them and Meg stood up, feeling Nyx squeeze behind her even further. "Meg, you know that."

She arched a dark brow. "Don't tell me, Cas. Tell her."

The insightfulness she was showing shocked him and he stammered a little, hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to grasp for something to steady himself. Meg's eyes darted down and he followed them to see Nyx peeking out at him. He hadn't felt her so nervous around him since the week before his and Meg's capture, but she was almost shaking from it, afraid she had done something wrong.

But as he looked at her, seeing her fear, he could understand it. He wanted her trust and experience had taught him that he needed to be patient when it came to a child who couldn't understand how life had been three years ago.

Castiel knelt before Meg and she rolled her eyes up, clamping her lips shut to avoid saying whatever lewd thing that was on the tip of her tongue. He gave her a scolding frown and then looked back at the shadow she now had.

"Nyx? Come here." He held out his hand palm up, patiently waiting for her. "Come on." A tiny hand slipped into his and she moved so her head was around Meg's legs, still clutching her leg with her other arm. The sudden shyness made him realize that he and Meg had left her behind last week, when she had still been scared. No wonder she thought that he might have left for good again. He squeezed her hand, felt answering pressure, and remembered to relax. "This place is safe."

She gave him a frustrated look.

"I won't leave you, like I did before." Reaching out, he smoothed her hair back from her face and cupped her determined little chin with his hand. "I don't want to do that again."

Nyx sucked on her lower lip, eyeing him as suspiciously as Meg had once. The hand in his tightened again, her small nails digging into his skin a little. "Promise?"

If a human or demon had ever doubted his word again, Castiel would have been offended.

But one look at her eyes, seeing how desperately she wanted to believe in him, only made him entwine their hands so he felt the edges of her tiny fingers completely engulfed by his own. "I promise."

Meg watched the pair of them, seeing how sincere he looked when faced with Nyx's distrust, before she nudged her out. "Go on. Your father's going to show you around and then you are back to sleep, got me?" She looked at Castiel who reluctantly looked away from Nyx to her. "Then we have to have a few words, Cas."

Castiel thought his heart actually ached from being called Nyx's father by Meg. The demon didn't seem to realize how big a deal it was to him and he cleared his throat again, keeping his attention on Nyx instead. Nyx still looked rebellious as he pulled her forward a little, but she willingly went into his arms, looping her arms around his neck as he stood up. Meg stepped back and stared at them as he carried Nyx towards the kitchen.

"Cas?" Her quiet injunction made him turn to see her picking up Clarence and the pile of books. Her back was to him but there was tension all in the set of her shoulders. "Don't break your promise to her."

Not sure how to respond, he nodded and turned his head to see Nyx staring at him. "I won't leave," he said again.

Nyx frowned. "Did once."

"I had to but now I'm not leaving you like that." All of Death's words, about Nyx needing to grow as a human first, about how everything had been necessary, came back at once. It wasn't hard to imagine that the little girl in his arms wasn't all human, with her fears lying so close to the surface. "I promise."

Her small hand played with the hair at the nape of his neck and she finally nodded again. "Okay."

He paused at the door to the outside and ducked his head to stare in her eyes. "Nyx? Trust me."

She hesitated, her fingers not moving for a while, and Castiel forced himself to wait. Then something a little lighter, something close to a smile, passed over her face. "Trust you."

"Good girl." Relaxing, Castiel boosted her up on his hip and carried her into the rear garden with him. The winter weather was like a slap in the face, even to him, and the brisk chill seemed to wake Nyx up a bit more. He tucked part of his coat around her and watched her face once he had stopped on the top step that led down the porch. Her eyes went wide at the array of winter-killed plants, the crisp snow covering what remained of the rusted fence and the distant trees, and when he felt her shiver, he pulled her closer to keep her warm. But Nyx's pale face shone in the moonlight as she looked at the stars twinkling down overhead and he thought even her eyes glowed a little brighter.

"This is your home," he began but Nyx's arm slipped from around his neck to point at the sky. The moon seemed larger out here, and the cold air caused Castiel to realize that they might not be as ready for winter out here. Mentally he tried to think of all the things he had had to find as a human to keep away the cold but her excited gasp made him snap back to attention.

"Stars!" She squirmed around in his arms, hands outstretching as if to touch the distant sky. "I like stars. Even when they fall."

He let her talk then, relieved to hear her questioning chatter, and did his best to answer her though he was surprised to see how, once she knew he would stay, she had changed. Nyx seemed brighter and happier than she had ten minutes ago. Castiel let her look for a while, until her skin turned a bit pinker from the cold. He was about to say they should go in when she finally turned back around to put her hands under his coat for warmth. Her head dropped on his shoulder suddenly.

"Are you tired?" he asked against the top of her head.

She shook her head, though her drooping eyelids betrayed her. Shaking his head fondly, Castiel carried her back into the house, past where Meg was scratching new wards on the doorframe. The demon eyed him as he passed her and brushed her hair with his free hand. Nyx's sleepy questions about the house made almost no sense and he knew eventually she would think up new ones when she was more awake. Fishing out the keys from his pocket, he opened the stair doors and walked up before setting her down on the top level.

"You were just a baby the last time you were here," he explained. Nyx hovered behind him, running her hands over the walls curiously. As he opened the nursery door, he noticed her puzzling over an old painting of waves crashing against the shore. It had been in a junk pile when he had found it but he had liked it. Meg never had explained why she had hated it.

"Nyx? Do you remember this place?" It was a silly question, he thought. She'd been newborn, so young that her memories wouldn't be more than a foggy idea.

But she nodded. "Safe. Safe-house."

"That's right." He nudged the door open further. "You were born here."

He went in first and was struck by a wave of nostalgic memory he hadn't expected when faced with the four walls of the old nursery. He remembered Linda Tran helping him patch up walls in this abandoned place, before he had hidden it with magic and wards. Remembered painting it pale yellow because he hadn't known if his child would be a boy or a girl. How he had tried losing himself in building a protective place for Meg instead of facing the depth of his feelings for both her and the life they had created. Instead of questioning why, he just knew he had had to protect them. That this place would keep them from falling apart and losing what they had.

Now he was here again and beyond that powerful sensation of its magic tickling his Grace, he felt what Nyx had felt.

Safe.

The nursery hadn't changed. It was still the warmest room in the house thanks to the radiators, the big windows letting natural light flood in so that it was likely the brightest room. The furniture was wrapped in white sheets, several baby clothes still piled neatly on a side table, and the bookcase was full of things he had thought he might read one day.

Suddenly, Castiel felt a pang for what could have been; a pain so sudden seemed to twist deeper than before. His breathing went shallow because after returning to being an angel, after finding Meg and Nyx again, he hadn't expected to still feel such regret.

Small fingers slipped into his and he looked down to see Nyx pressed against his leg. Her eyes were wide as she took in the books, the old dressers, and the crib in the corner. "My room?" she asked him and Castiel made a sound in his throat for a yes. He remembered that very first night of her life when he and the Winchesters had held the crying girl and almost all of them had been entranced by how fragile life was. It was still too clear to remember that month spending hours here, watching her slow growth and how he had felt protecting her.

His eyes closed because just as clear was that memory of saying goodbye to her and Meg. Before he could turn away, he felt her pull a little on his hand.

"Don't be sad." With a smile, she tugged him down and crawled up into his arms. He expected her to need a boost, so she could look around, but when she kissed his cheek and hugged him, Castiel was stunned enough that he nearly dropped her. "You promised. We're safe."

"We are," he muttered against her dark hair, closing his eyes and letting himself relax into her tiny embrace.

He heard a click behind him and turned his head to see Meg standing in the doorway. Her hand was wrapped in gauze, likely from warding with her own blood, but her attention was on the room. Her eyes seemed to widen as she looked all around at the familiar settings. Castiel stroked Nyx's back and turned a little to watch Meg. She set down the heavy bag she had packed for Nyx, with Clarence and her clothes, and then looked up. She studied him for a second, something withdrawn in her expression, before she turned away to make her slow way down the hall.

"You need sleep," he told Nyx, and her drowsy murmur let him know she wasn't about to fight him. The crib wouldn't work as a bed but he spotted the cot the Winchesters had used tucked in the corner. It smelled a bit musty but the blankets were safe and warm, rolled up and kept clean. Setting Nyx down again, he quickly pushed it against the wall and padded it down with the throw pillows and blankets, shaking them out so that there was no dust and that it smelled clean.

When he found the baby blanket still in the crib, he scooped it up and then stopped himself. His fingers rubbed over the material, the soft down catching on his fingers and he tightened his fingers around it, crushing the blanket. He remembered how the Winchesters had taught him how to wrap her up properly to keep her warm as a baby, remembered using it to keep her warm whenever the generator had backfired. That such a tiny thing could actually give him even more memories of that month made him suck in another deep breath. Maybe returning here hadn't been the best idea, he thought. Facing all of what had been made him wonder if he had made the wrong choice years ago with how much he had lost.

Nyx's grumbling about being sleepy snapped him out of it and he turned to see her already climbing onto the cot.

Her outstretched hands took the blanket from him and he picked up her unicorn next, tucking it in with her as well. Her blue eyes, half-closed, wandered over his face as if committing him to memory. A bit unnerved by that look, he touched her head and used a tiny fraction of his Grace to push her to the deep sleep he knew she needed. Nyx yawned, her eyes closing as she buried herself under the heavy blankets and pillows, and within seconds she was asleep. Castiel glanced at the moonlight shining through windows and decided to leave the blackout curtains open as he left, leaving the door half open.

It didn't take him long to find Meg. He hesitated outside the bedroom, feeling her there, and then pushed the door open. She was nearly motionless, sitting on the old arm chair tucked near the heater. Castiel glanced at her and then around the room. Her clothes from before were still thrown around, messy and chaotic how she liked it though now coated with a fine layer of dust, and the bed still had the vague signs of an imprint in the sheets. After three years, it was as if they hadn't left.

"She was born in here," Meg commented. "Funny. Never expected an old house to have so many memories, huh?"

Castiel ignored her, sensing she wasn't looking for more answers, and stripped the sheets off the bed to toss them into the corner. Meg watched the slight domesticity as he slapped the mattress free of dust before he sat and faced her. "We could leave," he offered again when the silence dragged too long. Meg didn't say anything.

The room itself almost seemed to have memories staining every surface. Even sitting here brought it all back in a rush.

"We spent a long time in that bed to pass the time," she pointed out with a grin that didn't light up her eyes as it should have.

"We could burn it," Castiel muttered darkly, slightly annoyed by how lightly she was taking this.

Meg sighed. "No point, Cas. We're here. We made a choice."

"As long as Nyx is safe, that's all that matters." He ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. "But what is the point?"

"Nyx is little, Castiel. She'll trust you if you make it easy for her to trust you. She knows who you are. But maybe that's why she's afraid you'll leave."

He heard the underlying threat there. How deeply she felt for him had been obvious last week but when faced with what she saw as her responsibility, she was as protective as he was. So he ignored any insult he had felt before from her over it.

"We're here together." He lifted his head and looked up into her eyes. "We can trust each other."

Meg stared at him for a long, silent moment, her breathing deep and her eyes impossibly dark. But eventually her gaze dropped away, a slow movement as if she was reluctant to look away from him. Castiel watched her sit back and her eyes fixed on the overhead skylight.

Castiel looked down. Remembered the strange emotions an angel never should have felt that had happened here. His anger at her being cagey in those first months; the confusion that of all beings he could have this with, it was a demon and he was an angel; his moments of love and hate that had blended so perfectly; the utter fear when Nyx had finally come and he learned what it was being the father a child would need.

Judging by the way Meg stood, paced a bit before she took a seat beside him, she was remembering as well. She leaned her head back and stared up at the skylight. She let herself slip herself slowly, ever so slowly, onto her back, and Castiel leaned on his elbow to watch her.

"Do you want to stay here?" he asked and she didn't answer. But he read her automatic response and put his hand on hers. "You do have a choice."

Her head turned toward him and Castiel looked at her profile thoughtfully. The scepticism in the look wasn't softened or guarded. Just there plainly for him to see.

"I know." Her eyes closed as she slowly turned her head back and looked up at the sky. Castiel watched her, on the verge of bending over to kiss her when she rolled to the side and stood. As he watched, she made her way to the door, each step dragging as if she didn't want to leave the bedroom. "I guess a few days wouldn't hurt."

---

Though he didn't have any supernatural senses, Dean was sure that he could smell his prey. The earthy musk of animals and trees, sweat and blood; all of it was letting him know he might be on the right track. The blood was from the carcasses that had been dragged through this part of the woods, strewn flesh stripped from the bones by the dense brush, likely even picked up by scavengers and then discarded as too rotten for even them. It was an overwhelming combination of smells and he could barely keep down the urge to throw up.

Dean knelt in the brush path with his flashlight going over where branches had been broken and mud tossed up. It looked, to him, like a large animal had come tearing through this area and stumbled around, trying to dig a hole before giving up. The discarded body of a deer had been chewed up and mangled, but at least the group of teenagers out for a beer binge were okay after a brief scare. Whatever had come this way had guessed that it was about to be hunted and had been desperate to get out. Smart thing.

Laying his hand out flat, Dean tested a paw-print's depth and edges, looking for any sign of different imprint. It was larger than a werewolf's normal print, one of the biggest he had seen. It still felt hot, as if the werewolf had just been here and stood long enough to let its body heat absorb into the muck.

Resting his shotgun against his thigh, he dabbed his fingers into a spot in the print that was darker than the rest. The feel of it was different than sweat or snow, and he shone his flashlight over his fingers. They were sticky with old blood, clotting so badly from the cold that he immediately wiped his hand on his jeans. It wasn't unlike a werewolf to take off when it figured out there was hunters, but wounded would make it more vicious until the moon faded.

A snap of a branch behind him had Dean whirling, gun lifted and just nudging under his armpit, ready to shoot.

"Mind not trying to blow my brains out?" Sam asked, hands in the air as he came out from the trees. Aware of his pounding heart, Dean released the breath he had been holding and managed to remember to glare at him. He lowered his gun and shook his head.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me. One of these days I'm going to shoot you."

"I bet." Sam shone his flashlight over the area. "He came this way?"

"Or she. Whatever it was, it was big."

They were still in the south part of Kansas, where the winter snow hadn't quite hit as hard. It was still cold enough to cause Dean to curse not following through on their plans but the stories about a werewolf pack still hanging around had kept them from going to Louisiana as planned. Instead, they had started tracking and waiting for another sign of more activity. The kills had been clustered around one small town, with the livestock slaughtered, but the death of two boys in the woods a week ago had caused people to sit up and take notice. Which meant it was time for them to step in and hunt.

"You think it's Mark's pack?" Sam asked as he knelt down.

"Told him a while ago to get back to Maine."

Sam tested a paw-print. "Like a werewolf would do as we say just because we say it. We aren't that special, Dean."

Dean was about to answer that affectionate snark when he heard another loud crack behind them and whirled again. "You hear that?" he whispered loudly.

Sam stood up and adjusted his own gun holster. "Yeah, sounded close."

Giving him a two finger signal to get back to the side, Dean shone his flashlight directly into the brush. Two yellow eyes, glowing in the light, shone back as a growl deepened to full fledged roar. But instead of leaping out, the monster in the trees stepped slowly. A one-two track, like dance steps being taken so carefully, so lightly, that not even the brush crackled. For some reason, it made Dean's normally cool nerves about hunting werewolves start to fray.

The way it loomed over Dean at nearly eight feet high with its burly chest bursting with muscle so damn terrifying. He swallowed and backed up a step, sneezing when the air turned hot and musky. This wasn't a werewolf like any he had seen before. It looked more deranged and contorted, muscles tortured and rippled around its bones in twists and ropey sinew that wasn't naturally puffed up. As if its entire body didn't really belong to the rest of the grotesque skeletal frame.

"You're a big fella, huh?" Dean asked as he carefully backed up. In the brush, Sam was undoing the ropes they had packed, re-knotting them up and to his side Dean held out his hand.

The werewolf leaned down and roared at him, while lowering its head until the snarling mouth was inches from his face. Spittle flew out of its mouth to coat Dean's face in algae smelling chunks that ran thick down his face. With a disgusted groan, Dean wiped it off and glared up at the monster.

"Thanks, but I'm not really into that," he said. He took another step back and the werewolf swiped out at him with front paws that were the size of his head. Dodging the blow, he sidestepped around so that the werewolf was closer to Sam. It whirled and charged at him again, snapping at the air as Dean ducked again, gasping for breath when he was shouldered to the side. His heart was banging harder and harder inside of his chest and it distracted him enough that he had to duck to avoid having his throat slashed open. Dean slammed his elbow into its gut and was knocked down hard by the monster's swinging its head into his back.

With accuracy learned a long time ago, Sam swung the rope he had been knotting around the creature's neck and yanked hard so it twisted into a tight noose. Instantly, it growled and took off around Dean, hunched body lumbering around. Rolling to get his tossed gun, Dean had to take deep, calming breaths as he aimed for its knee.

But before he could get a shot off, the werewolf took off on all fours, shrieking as if it was terrified of being snared. Startled, Sam shouted and his heels dug into the dirt to try to stop the tremendous strength yanking him off of his feet, but the monster has taken off. It roared again, howled when it realized that Sam was still attached and suddenly moved up into a recklessly fast run. Sam was thrown off of his feet and he tasted snow and dirt as he was dragged face-down across the brush, the werewolf's baying turning almost sinister. The blur of trees going by made Sam clench his hands tight around the rope and try to pull himself up despite the speed he was being dragged with. Rope burning hot and rough between his fingers, he was dragged for several minutes until the werewolf took a sudden turn that sent him head first into a tree with a brutal crunch.

The werewolf skidded to a stop at the sudden dead weight on the rope and turned on the big Winchester, growling loudly and baring its teeth. Body arching in ripples, as if it was struggling to get free from its own monsterous form, it hunched down onto its forearms. A loud whine began to keen through the air as it crawled slowly forward. The whine dropped to a loud snarl as it began sniffing at his face, tongue peeking out to taste his skin. Sam's eyes fluttered but he didn't wake up as its fangs dripped black venom onto his face before it opened its mouth towards his vulnerable throat.

"Hey!" Dean leapt through the brush and shot a round off mid-leap, absorbing the kick-back with a grunt of pain. The aim was true enough that it blew a small hole into its back. The werewolf roared, twisting around as if to grab the silver bullet out of the wound, and collapsed away from Sam while still twitching. With one eye on the monster, Dean bent and put his finger on Sam's pulse before he nudged him with his foot. He could see the blood from the small wound where the tree had scraped up his forehead and the small swelling that was growing on his temple. "Thought you'd be hard headed by now, Sam. Get up."

His brother groaned as he finally regained full consciousness. "Shut up, jerk."

Giving him an almost too rough pat on the cheek, Dean turned to where the werewolf had fallen.

The sight of the naked woman twitching and moaning made his eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline. Nudging Sam with his foot again, he stared at her and lifted his gun to train it on her. She looked nothing like the bulky monster she had been, her body was nearly too thin, and she was clearly in pain. Even just rolling to all fours seemed to cause her agony.

"Hurts," she whispered, struggling to get up. "It hurts!"

"You… you were that werewolf?"

Dean had never seen anyone change that fast back and he was pretty sure she wasn't pureblood.

Her lower lip thrust out and she cried out again. "It burns! Make it stop!"

Before Dean could move forward, someone burst through the brush across. Dean raised his gun and eyed down the barrel until he saw the familiar face of a pureblood they knew. It was startling to see Mark in human form after dealing with another werewolf, considering how easily he could change back and forth. The werewolf raised his hand, his eyes glimmering yellow at Dean as he bared a set of elongated canines at him.

"Leave her alone." Sam and Dean stared, confused as he bent to the woman's side and touched her hair. "It's me, Sophia. It's me."

"We told you to get out of Kansas," Dean threatened, still so confused all he could do was threaten the pureblood.

"We couldn't leave," Mark snapped.

"Why?"

Mark turned the werewolf around in his arms, trying to help her move but every small movement seemed to cause her pain. His lips parted in an animalistic snarl as he lost the fangs and his eyes went back to a normal, softer colour. He looked at them both over his shoulder. "You Winchesters, you're like every goddamn hunter. Shoot first, ask questions later."

Not wanting to deal with his threats, Dean shot again into the tree. It sent a spray of bark that made both werewolves tremble and lower their heads. "Answer me! Now she attacked us, likely killed those kids, and we've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"She's not herself."

"Much as a werewolf could be," Sam muttered. Unlike his brother, he was watching both werewolves very closely. "But, Dean, look at her."

Dean gave an annoyed grumble and lowered his gun a little more. They took a few steps forward together and he leaned over to look at the werewolf female. Both Winchesters could see something wrong with the woman Mark was trying to wrap up in his coat. Her veins were pronounced through her papery-thin skin, so that it was like they could actually see the blood moving thorough just under her skin in black trails. Every time her head turned it seemed to be an effort and her mouth went slack, fluid dripping from her mouth dark and thick.

"She's sick," Mark whispered, getting up and leaving her on the ground. He stalked towards them until he was only a few feet away, ignoring the gun pointed at his stomach. "Most of my pack is sick."

"Werewolves get sick?" Dean asked, nearly transfixed by the sight of the diseased werewolf.

"We took in a new member, a youngster from Maine. She attacked Sophia and Chris, my youngest members. I've already dealt with her but Sophia started show the same side-effects. Started hunting everything that breathed." Mark cracked his neck. "Lots of my kind are having to move out from their usual territories. I mean, I never liked running in packs in the first place but now someone is calling to them. You obey the call or you die."

"What do you mean?" Sam looked over his shoulder at the half-dead woman and her empty eyes opened to stare back at him. "Eve is calling you?"

The pureblood gave them a shifty look. "You know about the Mother?" Dean cocked his gun again and he cursed. "Of course you do."

"Look, make with the chat or I start blowing holes in you."

"Cute." Mark's back rippled, as if to undergo a change but then he stopped himself so that he was still a smaller human. "I only ran into trouble when I started running with these youngsters in the first place. A lot of us don't run in packs, you know. But I thought it was time to look at having family. Sophia was… is… well, you should have seen her. So beautiful and I was willing to love her though she wasn't usually my type. Sometimes it is better, you know, to run with other werewolves. Someone that will get what you are and it tends to be more understanding. We're a dying breed after all. And to lose one of our one pack to this illness is something all of us would feel."

He looked over the heaving girl, his lips pursed into a small bow. Neither Sam nor Dean knew what to do when faced with the reality that the reason why Mark was rambling was because he was grieving.

Mark's jaw went tight. "That new girl brought her sickness into my pack and infected Sophia. The Mother's fever is changing her into something I can't control. Something I don't like."

Before either brother could move, Mark had his arms wrapped around the werewolf. She was already starting to change again, a death throe last attempt to escape, and her tiny body was already starting to fill out into something terrible. Turning her away from them, Mark growled and snapped her neck easily, the crunch of bones echoing in the woods. Disgusted, Dean and Sam both looked away as he finished killing her more thoroughly than a silver bullet might have.

When he turned to face them, his eyes were yellow and his mouth fanged.

"Go on. Shoot me."

But though Dean raised his gun, he didn't pull the trigger. He hesitated, finger just on the ridge of it as he debated on what to do. Sam looked at him and finally he put the gun down. It wouldn't solve anything.

"You said it was Eve that did this?" he asked.

Mark's fangs bared but he didn't step close, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. "That new girl told me she'd touched the Mother, that she'd been given something as a gift. When we all rejected it, she attacked Sophia and the others. There's only me left now."

"Sickness. Eve is changing them." Sam turned his head to look around, half-expecting another werewolf to leap out. "She did a number on her, Dean."

"We aren't in the middle of this for nothing." Dean let out a long, slow breath. "Are any of the others sick?"

"There's werewolves all over the state, you guys just never realized it. I'm sure there's been a few. That's just us, I can't tell you if something is going on with the vampires or shifters."

The Winchesters felt the same thought go through them but it was Sam who spoke first, "Warn them all to stay away from Eve. Your Mother is going to cause the same thing to happen in them and I bet you don't want that."

Mark eyed them as they circled him towards the path that led out. "You're letting me go again? My family?"

"It's conditional. You check what others are in the area, let us know if they're sick. You know my number," Sam said. "If you don't, Dean gets to have open season on you. We won't be far away."

Suspicion in his very body, Mark turned away from them but Dean cleared his throat as he started to leave.

"How devoted is your kind to your 'Mother', werewolf?"

He hesitated and looked over his shoulder. "Less than you think, Winchester." His eyes dragged over Dean and then Sam. "We don't all blindly love our family, despite their faults."

Turning back to his pack-mate's body, he bent and gently took his coat back from her naked body. He heard the Winchesters leaving, the distant slam of car doors and the purr of the Impala's engine. Left alone to grieve, he debated on doing a more wolfish thing and howling to vent his frustration. But he restrained himself in favour of looking for a place to bury her. He owed her that much before he returned to do as they asked. The old pureblood styled himself as a more honourable type of monster and he didn't like the thought of being hunted by the Winchesters yet again.

The human smell behind him made him smile wanly. Maybe he'd spoken too soon.

"Changed your mind, eh, Sam?" he asked and he turned slowly.

He only caught a glimpse of the hunter behind him before the silver blade buried and twisted deep into his heart. The reaction was instantaneous, death roaring up to meet him, and he chortled for breath while trying to see more. But all he saw was hate and anger in those dark eyes. He collapsed beside the other corpse, twitching and dying as he bled out on the mud and snow. The howl that had been bubbling up in his throat died as a low, pitiful moan.

---

The crackle was familiar, a snick and snare of fire dancing around. The same hungry snap of flames licking and charing dry twigs, the same low hiss of them devouring the fodder. What was missing was its end, when the fuel ran out and there was nothing more to feed it. Fires died, eventually.

All except for Hellfire and he hadn't fed this fire in over a week.

Hand out over his small stone fire-pit, Crowley debated on the merit of roasting duck or some other luxury meat over the flames he'd taken from Hell itself. Never dying, they gave him a warm glow and reminded him vaguely of home. Seeing the flames flicker did make him strangely hungry, even a little bit thirsty, in a way that only an insatiable demon could be hungry. The Hellfire merely complimented his lavish settings and the expansive backyard of the mansion he'd taken as residence this time. A place any human or demon would have been jealous of.

In the weeks since his deal with Meg, that slipshod way of keeping his own head on his shoulders, he'd gone back to his preference for the finer things in life. Lucrative soul deals, mansions, pretty boys and girls at his bidding; perfect for a demon of his stature. It was a life he hadn't realized that he had missed.

On one hand, he had ruled Hell, his truest ambition, and power had been an incredible benefit.

But on the other, there was something to be said for staying just under that level of pay grade. Luxury was in having underlings to do his bidding but no demon out to kill him for being the King of Hell. Technically. It was for the better anyway. He knew he couldn't contend in a place that, since his rule, had descended to pure, mismanaged chaos. The way Abaddon had liked it.

"Sir?" The patio doors swung open, and a model perfect girl stepped through the glass. "You have a visitor."

Crowley cursed under his breath, having just decided on smoked duck and scotch for the evening. "Who is it?"

The demon opened her mouth to answer, stalled by a hand wrapping in her hair. She shrieked as she was twisted back around and shoved into the house without any warning, and Crowley barely managed to keep himself looking calm. The redhead who slipped through the doorway with a sensuous, cat-like movement was a threat to her very core just in the way her red lips were curled in a smirk. She looked left and right, studying this place Crowley had stolen from an unsuspecting human. Leather clad, she was incredibly out of place in the English-style gardens but yet somehow more dangerous because of it.

"Crowley."

"Abby." He drawled the nickname just to watch her smirk fall to a frown. "How goes the war, darling?"

Determined to see unthreatened by her presence, he poured her a drink from the nearly empty bottle of scotch and dangled it enticingly from his hand. The Queen of Hell snatched it from him while with the other hand she dragged out one of the patio chaises so the metal screeched on the flagstones. Crowley winced in reaction and then watched her as she took a seat, curling her long legs beneath herself in an almost innocent pose.

"Nearly over." She sipped at her drink but her eyes never left his over the rim of the glass. "Thousands of monsters, lying dead or imprisoned. Funny how they die the same way in Hell that they would in Purgatory. Blood is just soaking the floor of the Pit itself." Her curled lips suddenly turned up into a dreamy grin. "It is wonderful."

Even Crowley had to admit that Abaddon looked beautiful when her viciousness was so plain to see. The momentarily lustful thoughts that crossed his mind about his business partner made him uncomfortable enough that he fluttered a hand in the air to dismiss them. There was a reason why her stranglehold on Hell had settled so nicely; there were few demons now that the Knight didn't fear. The old ones she had respected but slaughtered all the same when they stood in her way, and he was sure only a demon much older, much more powerful, would cause her to cower. Screwing with Abaddon at this point would equate suicide.

"Still haven't figured it out, I assume?"

"Oh, I did. After you ran like a dog with his tail between his legs." A thin eyebrow arched and he gave her a winning grin that didn't fool her at all.

"Well, I am a lover, not a…."

"Please. You're a backstabbing toad, Crowley. It wasn't a surprise but so long as you didn't fuck me over, I'm willing to trade my not killing you for information." She took another long sip and leaned back. "Tell me about Meg."

He paused mid-reach for his own glass. "So you heard?"

"You're not the only one with spies. She's alive. How… unexpected."

"So is the child she whelped." He watched her expression close off. "Ah, so you didn't know that exactly."

"I've been busy." Abaddon's red-tipped fingers tightened into fists. "How is she still alive, Crowley? I thought you would take care of that."

"Turns out Castiel did a little disappearing act on her. Not sure the details but it was safe to say they were on outs when last I saw them." He wiggled his glass so the ice cubes clicked together. "Such as it was."

The Queen's eyes were like ice jewels in her pale face. "The whore. She willingly bore that Abomination. Rejected her own family."

Crowley wondered at how viciously the other demon spat out the insults.

Her teeth made an audible grin. "I heard you made a deal with Meg, Crowley."

"All in the interest of self-preservation, love." At her look, he shrugged. "I'm not stupid enough to challenge Meg on my own without some sort of plan. She's provided routinely difficult to kill you know."

"Yes, I remember that." Abaddon finished her drink. "Why else?"

"You know that Eve is topside?" At her nod, he looked around his garden. "Turns out she is very interested in Meg and her brat, from what I've learned. Meg made the deal with me to get me to back off." He left out the details, about Azazel's supposed resurrection that he figured for a lie by now.

"Why does Eve want Meg of all people? She attacked me."

Crowley glared at the demon. "Do I look like someone Eve wants to talk to? I did do quite a number on her the last time."

Abaddon went to speak and then seemed to think it over. "No. Of course not. She hates demons. What about the angels?"

"Still all a-flutter about becoming peace-loving pansies, in my guess. They haven't been around either."

Abaddon tapped her nails on her glass thoughtfully. "Then why haven't you made a move at all? You have my men at your disposal."

"Two guess. First one won't count," Crowley said darkly. "He's a blue-eyed dreamboat with wings, likes to make a nuisance of himself and, like Meg, is nearly impossible to kill."

The demons sat in silence together, awkwardly both remembering their own wounds caused by the angel they both thought of. Eventually, Abaddon sat forward. "What about him? Castiel? The last I saw of him was when he led those angels into Hell to recover those souls last year. Nearly decimated a Legion of ours to get them."

"Since the deal with Meg, I haven't heard much." Crowley did find it fascinating that she wasn't interested in the Winchesters this time. Then again, her losses against Castiel had been embarrassing enough. It was a matter of pride for every demon, the Wars in Hell, and she had watched her best forces being destroyed. He did shrug. "Knowing him though, if it concerns Meg and this child?"

He grinned at how she looked at him so sharply.

"Let's just say that Daddy came back in full force."

Abaddon hissed. "So he is still set on protecting them."

"Well, angels rarely reproduce. No wonder he'd act like an overgrown pigeon brooding over a nest." He lifted his nearly empty glass to his mouth and then stopped, considering her with a shrewd look. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Find her. Kill her. Kill them both." The demon spoke so sharply that each word felt like a knife blow.

"Me?" Crowley snorted. "Not a chance, darling. I saw first hand what Castiel was willing to do to protect his entire family, let alone those two. Somehow I think you are underestimating him completely."

Abaddon tightened her lips into a thin line as she controlled her temper. "Trade then. Get the hunters to find them, offer the child to the angels or offer them Castiel. If the child has any powers at all, she can be used. But Meg dies, regardless, for this betrayal to her own family. I want her skinned. Maybe the angel can watch to see his pet die."

"Ah well, that will be a problem." He tipped his glass back and finished off the rest of the liquor. Standing with a flourish, he walked over to his outdoor bar, backing away from her. He didn't trust her not to knife him in the back. "There are complications when it comes to Meg that run deeper than you realize. Ongoing… problems."

"What kind of problems?" she asked in a deadly low voice.

"Why do you think he won't give her up?" Crowley shrugged as he unscrewed the cap of his best scotch and poured a large amount into his glass. "It is nothing so simple as an angel who owes a favour to a demon, even without the child involved. It is complicated."

Her bright eyes glittered in annoyance. "How complicated are we talking?"

"He loves her."

The silence that followed his blunt statement wasn't startling, but he could see Abaddon's eyes widen in a bit of shock. He took a long, lingering sip of his scotch and watched the Queen digest this new tidbit. He had only figured it out himself when he had watched Castiel closely before. Abaddon did not know the angel very well but she had been rather attached to Meg at one time; she was taking this betrayal personally. Which was perfect.

Her jaw jutted out and then her entire face tightened into an ugly scowl. "It changes nothing. Find a way to sell him out to the angels if you have to. We both know that whatever that child is will be a bargaining chip. When she was born we all felt it." Her eyes were black. "We felt it like a knife twisting in."

"So. Kidnap the girl, kill Meg and sell out Castiel to the angels?" He turned back around to fill his glass even more. "You are just full of tall orders, aren't you?"

He felt her anger at his mockery, but at the same time felt something much older, much darker, just at the edges of his senses. His head snapped to the left to try to locate what it was, where it was, but he couldn't see anything.

"Yes, she is, isn't she?"

The newest voice was ice cold with a hint of malice, almost too young for that sort of coldness. It was the tone of voice that was familiar instantly to both demons. Crowley and Abaddon both whipped around to face the young man who stood in the doorway. Crowley's guards lay dead at his feet and the intruder seemed completely bored by it. The young, narrow face he wore wasn't the last they'd seen him in but even without looking directly in his eyes, Crowley knew who it was. Like Abaddon, he could see under the skin to what was really hiding behind the shell of a meatsuit. Someone he had done his best to avoid even centuries ago.

"Azazel," he whispered.

The powerful but very much should-be-dead Azazel stood before him.

Acting on instinct, Abaddon leapt up with her power slicing through the air. It shattered the flagstone into shards around them to try to wound the apparent ghost of their once-leader. She even reached out to try to hit him but he side-stepped her neatly, ignoring her howl of fury. Crowley spun, ready to run as he always did.

Like a patient parent disciplining his children, Azazel lifted his hand in the air. "Oh stop it, both of you."

The dark wave cascaded over them, to the point that Crowley thought his own bones would leap through his skin, and set them to the ground. Abaddon shouted in pain as she was thrown onto Crowley and they were shoved face first into the cement. As powerful as they were, they felt his power like a physical, choking thing. They were twisted about, shaken like rag dolls, and then turned around again to land on their hands and knees.

His body aching, Crowley looked up through bleeding eyes as Azazel sat on the ground across from him and Abaddon. The older demon brought his one knee up towards his chest and watched them closely.

"Why is it that you two, a demon who would hardly be my pick of the litter and a Knight who never did learn her place, are ruling Hell?" he asked in a conversational tone.

Crowley spat out a mouthful of blood. "So it's true. You're alive."

Yellow eyes, multifaceted and evil, fixed on him. "Don't seem so disappointed, Crowley. You'll hurt my feelings."

"How?" Abaddon croaked, her own pale skin bloodied at her cheeks and forehead. "The Winchesters killed you!"

"Luck." His head twitched violently to the side before he fixed it. For a moment his eyes were blue and then yellow. "And something you might call divine intervention."

Both demons tried to fight back at the same time, sending the power of Crossroads and Legions back at him, and he rolled his eyes as he tapped his fingers on his knees. Crowley and Abaddon both started choking as his response was a wave of power that squeezed on their insides. "Enough. For starters, you forget that I helped birth your little areas of expertise. Secondly, I have no interest in killing either of you. I have much bigger game in mind and you are both useful, so naturally I want to know all your plans. Hell doesn't have as much interest for me right now but you two… you two can tell me something of it."

Slowly, his fingers moved in circles on his own flesh and rivulets of hot fire went down their bodies in a sensation of agonized ecstasy. It made both of them twitch in confusion. "After all that talk of killing Meg, I admit my interest was peaked. But to find you both here, away from your armies?" He clicked his tongue several times. "I really didn't teach you as well as I should have."

"She deserves death!" Abaddon spat out. He hummed quizzically, as if to encourage her. "All of that training, your faith in her as family, even her loyalty to Lucifer, but she really was as Crowley said. A whore."

Crowley's forehead furrowed, not liking being pulled into this. "To be fair? I never expected her to be Castiel's whore."

"Mmm." Azazel released them enough that the pressure was no longer squeezing them so tightly. Instead they knelt across from him, swaying as they tried not to collapse.

"She bore an abomination. Even to our own kind, it is a freak. If it had been an order from Hell, a weapon for Hell, it would make some sense," Abaddon began to eagerly explain her own actions.

"Though angels and demons are notoriously incompatible," Azazel interjected, his tone cheery. There was something off in his voice, making him threatening in how vague it was, and it made Crowley long to escape. "Go on."

Abaddon took in a deep breath. "But it wasn't. She let that piece of sanctimonious shit lure her loyalty away from Hell. The bitch bore that child and it was because of all of them, Winchesters included, that our Father was thrown back in the Cage. Unreachable. Suffering." Her bloody mouth twisted again. "She deserves to be strung up and every demon to have a turn at her."

Crowley watched Azazel carefully for any sign of his emotions. But as ever, he only wore that casually interested face. One that was like a cat playing with injured mice.

"You think I don't know how much of a disappointment dear Meg ended up being?" Azazel reached out and stroked her cheek with a finger,. "So hate-filled when you feel betrayed. It makes you beautiful, Abaddon. It always has."

Her eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure of his touch. Just as suddenly as he had been gently touching her, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her close. He gave her once-over before snorting in disgust and shoving her face down. Her power snarled around them but he simply held her down, even when slashes appeared on his face. Abaddon's body flailed as he clamped his hand on her nape and held her face first into the stone.

"It is also why you are just as much of a disappointment, Knight. You never were a big picture sort."

"She…"

"Still has use. You just don't have the intelligence to see it." He ignored her muffled sounds of pain. "You won't do more than I order you. Both of you won't do more than that." He looked at Crowley in warning. The Crossroads demon squirmed because of the power he could feel curling around him, trapping him more thoroughly than chains. Whatever Azazel was exuding now was foreign even to Hell and wrong.

"Meg," Azazel continued. "Has to live and tell me things, give me things."

The demon under his hand was choking now. Crowley simply stayed still, like prey afraid of attracting a predator. There was a reason why Azazel had ruled Hell so easily, compared to his successors. He didn't care for politics, not really, and his viciousness could border on madness in the right case. He used to claim that the best of his plans was a kindness to his victims.

"What-what could she have that you couldn't get with us?" Abaddon asked for them both. Azazel glanced down at her and crooned in his throat as if to soothe her.

"Meg is valuable. It is why I chose her years ago. She's something unexpected. And now? She's been God-touched and you idiots didn't even see it. What it could mean if we use her. There's just something about Meg, isn't there?" The hand on the back of Abaddon's neck lifted and he resorted to stroking her soft skin instead. "Am I understood?"

"Yes," the Knight whispered.

Crowley still eyed him suspiciously. "So you don't want Hell?"

"Of course I want Hell. In the right circumstances. I just don't want it yet. I also don't have the need to call myself such human titles as King or Queen." He gave them both disgusted looks. "You are such children. What I want? Our Father free, I yearn for the Apocalypse to finish as it should. But more than that?"

Crowley thought immediately of Heaven. Every demon knew how God had apparently abandoned it, but the angels who had fought Hell still believed in their Father. They weren't to be screwed with if that was Azazel's plan.

"I want to find the way back to the Lethe. All those souls. All that power to be siphoned."

He picked Abaddon up like a doll and set her down beside him, still stroking her face. "And you both will stay out of my way, do as I bid, won't you? You will not attack my daughter, will you?"

"We won't." Abaddon nodded and Crowley echoed her but already he was trying to think of a way out of this. Out of here. Before he moved, Azazel had him by the throat again.

"You think I'm stupid enough not to seal deals with you both?" he asked.

"No," Crowley whispered as he submitted to the deal-making magic surrounding them, so utterly snared in power that had always been stronger than his. As Azazel's mouth sealed over his in a brutal kiss, Crowley's mind turned to how he felt. It felt as if there was Grace burning him alongside that dark current of power. Abaddon's husky laugh and the brush of her own power joining Azazel's and his, made the moment more intimate than it should have been.

Caught between hate of this old demon and the exhilaration in his own submission to such stronger power, all Crowley could do was hope was that he was left alive after tonight.

---

Meg had gone into the small town on foot. She hadn't liked using her power to move as fast as she had, knowing it would attract attention, but finding a car to steal would also lead humans to them. Castiel had been adamant that they lie low, like they used to, and even when so far as to say she should stay in the house only. Meg had gone toe to toe with him over that in an argument that had not been raised above a whisper and made it clear she wasn't about to be cowed into hiding.

They'd been here only a matter of days and the idea of domesticity was causing her to chafe a little at the restraint.

Still, it wasn't so terrible for once. They rotated their care for Nyx, kept her busy, and saw each other in short bursts. It was better that way. After a week confined to that motel room, Meg had thought it was easier to simply go back for a while to how they had been. Occasionally touching, frequently having spirited bickering over inane things to relieve stress, and then often falling into silence with one another.

What was irritating was that she had actually missed him. They were always around one another, in one way or another. He was busy fixing things that had fallen apart in the house, repainting and warding, stocking it with supplies, and the care of their child they did in rotation. She didn't know where he went and he never asked where she went. Meg cared for Nyx in the day, Cas at night, but Meg knew he was always very close. Sooner or later, she knew, Castiel would have to learn that he wasn't going to lose them if he let go a little.

It was throwing more than a small cramp in her life.

Pausing outside an old bar, Meg trailed her fingers over her collarbones in a mindless caress. There was always a chance of a demon or monster seeing her in this town, but it was so secluded in the country that neither of them had heard of anything really big happening. Castiel had, like it or not, chosen the perfect place to hide again.

The bar door swung open, a blast of heat flowing out from the warm interior, but Meg didn't move in, stepping to the side as the two men shoved past. They eyed her up and down and then snorted, walking away. Meg still debated on going in, longing for a stiff drink and time to herself out of the snow.

"We both heard Garth. We're not to hunt this kid."

The demon paused with her hand on the door, tilting her head. The two men lit up their cigarettes and huddled together near the dumpsters as they began to shiver at the cold. When one turned away, she darted around the other side of the dumpster so that she could eavesdrop. Something in the gruff way he had said 'hunt' had been familiar.

"We're not even sure some special demon kid exists anymore." The bigger man took a long drag. "Don't like the thought of killing kids myself."

"So what do we do? Stick around Colorado? Or do we join up with a few others and see what they say?"

Meg peered over the top of the dumpster, her hand going to the knife tucked away in her belt.

"Nah. I mean, this is angels and demons, man? Give me a good old Vamp hunt instead. This is way out of my league."

Meg relaxed and moved her hand away from her knife. They stubbed out their cigarettes, muttered a bit more about the weather, and then went back inside. She stayed, hesitating about what to do. The urge to destroy something was strong, a way of letting off some steam, but it would attract attention.

Get home. Stay out of sight.

Forgetting her urge for a drink, Meg started off back down the snow covered road, walking slower than she had before. Using what power she thought to spare, she covered her tracks and kept close to the snow covered trees as she made her way back home. Her thoughts went to Castiel, to the protection of the safe-house, to Nyx, and without thinking she started to move herself across the distance, leaving no sign to be found that she had ever been there.

---

—

"You're sick, Sam!" Dean slammed the motel door shut behind himself. "And on a werewolf hunt! Why the hell weren't you honest with me when we left the bunker?"

"Oh, like you were real honest with me!" Sam snapped back as he tossed his duffel bag on the first bed to reclaim his spot. "I'm not stupid, Dean."

"You nearly fainted on me a few times there! You weren't strong enough!" Dean shouted.

"Yeah, so?" The gash on Sam's head had opened up and was bloodying his long hair. "You couldn't keep up with me anyway!"

"I was fine!" Dean shouted.

"So fine that you turned grey and kept gasping for breath. Your heart was killing you and you wouldn't even admit to it this time!"

Dean nearly swore aloud. He had hoped that Sam wouldn't notice the way he had paused for breath repeatedly while tracking the signs of that rogue werewolf. Unconsciously, he lifted his hand to his chest and rubbed. The pain in his chest at the time had been a phantom echo of what had happened in Maine, but it had burned and felt real. With one eye on Sam as his brother kicked off his boots, he dug into his pocket for the last of his medication. Sam was muttering under his breath, so Dean quickly popped his pills into his mouth and dry swallowed. It was an immediate placebo effect, he knew, but he nearly did feel his racing heart calm down.

Still ready for a fight, both brothers sat down in unison across from each other with matching distrustful expressions on their faces. They looked everywhere but at each other until finally Dean caught Sam's eye with a gesture.

"It is getting worse, huh?" he asked, his voice gruff to hide his worry.

Sam nodded. "Since what happened at the cabin. Since Meg and Cas took Nyx with them especially." He bowed his head. "Just more lightheaded. You?"

"Heart is hurting." Dean sighed and looked at his still shaking hands. The sight made him grip them into fists to stop it. "Guess we needed the kid around to distract us, huh?"

"Think so." Sam stared at his arm and he rolled up his sleeve. They both could see the faintest scar tissue there that matched the lines on Dean's arm. Slowly, the lines were starting to reappear in pale white scars. "I… uh… let's face it, the spell is finally wearing off. Maybe what binds us is letting go. Falling apart."

Dean made a face. "Yeah and taking us down with it."

His brother shrugged. "That's how spells go, remember? They have consequences. This one bought us time but not a lot of it."

"And it is falling apart at the worst moments possible," Dean said. "So what do we do then?"

"Not sure what we can do. Not even sure the same spell would work. Kevin had that idea about the blood, didn't he? About demon blood or something to adapt and cement the process." Sam ran his hand through his hair and winced when he touched the cut again. "Just not sure why we are feeling it worse now."

"Well, Nyx healed you. Maybe she blocked it a bit. We don't know what her power is."

"Maybe."

The knock at the door made Dean sigh, still rubbing impatiently at the back of his neck. Tired and sore from the long night spent in the woods, he wasn't in the mood for any more crap. Sam watched him warily as if he expected him to collapse.

"I'm fine, Sam, knock it off," he snapped over his shoulder as he walked to the door. His brother's muttering was clearly meant as an insult but he ignored it. The second knock was sharper and Dean shook his head. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Who is it?"

"Garth sent me," a man with a thick but untraceable accent answered. Grabbing his gun from his bag on the table, Dean held it ready and glimpsed Sam pulling his knife as well while he opened the door slowly. On the other side, a man as thin as Garth but far older, stood. Dean blinked, not expecting that because his voice had been so deep.

"Who're you?"

"Bentley. Paul Bentley." He grinned, displaying a row of crooked teeth that were stained by coffee. "Hunter."

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the tall woman who stood behind him. "This is Sheila."

Dean didn't bother to smile politely. "Hunters?"

"Of course," the dark-skinned woman said.

"Unlike someone else in this room," Bentley finished and the confrontational acid in his voice made Dean glare at him. But he turned his attention on Sheila. She looked whipcord strong, older than him maybe, and strong. He had the feeling she was the more dangerous of the two.

"What do you want?"

"Just looking for a little chat." Bentley shoved in past and nodded to Sam. "Sam, I take it?"

"So chat."

Sheila followed in, more polite than Bentley to wait to be asked by Dean it seemed, and she took a seat on the chair closest to the door.

"Must be a real trial, settling in hotels versus cars." The older man sounded disapproving. "Kind of soft, huh?"

Sam glanced at Dean and like his brother he didn't put his weapon down.

When she frowned, Sheila's skin tightened into deep lines and made her seem much older than either of them would have guessed. "Oh shut up, Bentley, and get on with it. I want to get home to Molly at some point this week. Haven't seen her in days and I'm not about wait for you to show your balls off to the Winchesters."

Bentley glared at her but did as she asked. "Rumour mill is all a fuss over you two."

"Always is. We are the Winchesters," Dean said arrogantly.

"So everything is true? I mean, everyone knew about you both still running around with that angel of yours." He took a seat on the bed across from Sam. "But what about the other stories, huh?"

"Which one? You guys keep making up stories." Sam set his knife down close to his thigh.

Sheila turned a little on the chair, eyes locking with Dean's. "About a Cambion. Or whatever this thing supposedly is."

"Where'd you hear that?" Dean asked her and she shrugged.

"Hearsay. You know how it goes. We go based on what we hear." She tugged on the edge of her thick black ponytail. "One of the hunters claimed that some demon we all got told to leave alone years ago, one we were told was dead, is running with you."

Sam shrugged. "Stuff happens. There is a demon alive, sure. We work with a lot stranger things than you guys do. It's why we do such good work."

Sheila ignored that. "So you are running with the angel and demon?"

"Not really true. They aren't with us now."

"I want to hear about this kid." Bentley looked at Sam and actually flinched at the cold look. "Even Garth admitted there were stories about an angel and demon having a kid together. You guys know the stories about Cambions, about any sort of kid, monster or demonic. They can be about a thousand times worse than their parents."

He looked at his partner and she shrugged. "I read some stories myself."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, both thinking about Nyx. A little girl who just wanted to draw, liked to follow them around and ask endless questions. An innocent who, beyond healing Sam and going into the warehouse to find Castiel, had never once done anything to hint she was more than just a special girl.

"It's not the first time Hunters are wrong," Dean said.

"And it is our business. Not yours where this is concerned," Sam finished for his brother.

"Would be, until you two stopped doing your job." Bentley reached down to his ankle holster and pulled out a knife, intricately designed and one they both knew was silver laced just by experience. He tossed the blood-stained weapon onto the ground between him and Sam, so that it lay exposed on the carpet. Both brothers stared at it. "Letting a werewolf go? What would your daddy say?"

The other hunter watching them realized it was a mistake to goad them the instant Bentley so pleasantly said that. Her amber brown eyes flickered over the other men thoughtfully.

"He was doing us a favour." Dean sounded disgusted and didn't hide it as he looked at Sheila. She raised her hands as if to say 'I didn't do it.' He nodded and looked back at the older Hunter. Bentley clearly had the hard-on for killing werewolves as he took up the knife and began to look at its bloody surface. Dean half-expected him to lick the blood off.

"Monsters don't do us favours. The only favour we give them is killing them before they spread their filth around." He waved the knife at Sam. "Right?"

"You've both heard about the Mother of Monsters moving along, infecting monsters and demons?" Sam asked. The hunters jerked a little. "Or not."

"You're all hard up to kill some new monster you don't even pay attention." Dean was still disgusted by Mark's senseless death. "Eve has been out for over a month now. Doing God knows what to her kids. Maybe you both remember how you take care of some monsters? Kill the source. Why don't you focus on that, instead of hunting some imaginary kid?"

"Imaginary?" Sheila arched an eyebrow. "A hunter said he saw you two driving with a little girl out of Montana. Or was that two other hunters who maybe started a family together?"

Sam glared at her. "She's not your concern."

"Why shouldn't she be?" Bentley's tanned skin was mottled in anger. "She's a freak!"

"Hey, I know some good freaks." Dean sat beside Sam and nudged him. Sam discreetly elbowed him back.

"It's not a joke!" Bentley stood up from the bed and began to pace, twirling his knife. "You're going to protect some freaky kid."

"We don't kill kids just because," Sam said patiently. "And you don't know if she's evil. You don't know anything except for some story you overheard."

Sheila started to say something but Bentley beat her to it. "We know that every time we leave the demon stuff to you Winchesters, everyone ends up screwed. You hunt the Mother, we'll take care of this problem."

His partner gave him a look. "I don't kill kids either. We came here for information. The boys have a point, Paul. This Mother was bad news a few years ago."

"All I know is that demons were responsible for my family dying in Michigan a few years ago. While these two were playing bunk-buddies with demons and angels. I don't trust them to do the right thing," he said, focussing his anger on her now. "You take care of the Mother then and get to be best friends with these idiots. I'll do what I do best. Find the freaks and end them before they spread themselves around."

"Maybe we weren't clear," Dean said and before Bentley turned just a little, he had his arm to his throat and was throwing him up against the wall. Sheila went for her knife but with one look at Sam she saw his warning and it stayed her own knife. Dean was totally focussed on the hunter he held. "You will do what you're told. You'll go back to your home state if you won't help us. Take a few weeks off."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you wish you had." He leaned in, his weight so totally in his arm that the thinner man choked. "You might think this kid is evil, I get it. Bad things happen and we blame the world." Reaching into his jeans, he pulled out Ruby's Knife and planted it into the wood by Bentley's head. "This little girl is our responsibility. You come near her, you don't want to know what might happen. But I'm sure you've heard stories about us. So are we clear?"

The hunter glared at him. "Cute. Protecting her because of your angel and whatever demon he knocked up?"

"Why would you do that?" Sheila finished.

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed away from Bentley. "They don't get it, Sam."

"No, they don't," Sam agreed, watching as Dean took Bentley by the arm and pulled him to the door, opening it. Sheila sighed and followed.

"What don't we get?" she asked, since Bentley could barely talk from the blow Dean had given his throat.

"We're not really doing this to save a little girl." Dean's mouth was twisted in a sarcastic grin. "We're doing this to save you. We're protecting you too. Because it isn't just us you have to worry about. It's her parents."

He leaned close to her ear. "Tell the others to back off or I'll let them die. You get me?"

She nodded and he pulled back, still smiling. "Good. If you aren't going to help us with Eve, go home. Relax. Have a few drinks."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "And if I hear about either of you tailing us again, of you even trying to find this little girl." He looked over his shoulder at Sam. His brother had stood up and was watching them.

"It won't be pretty," Sam finished. "We good?"

Sheila nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Come on, Bentley. We'll get you drunk and back to your house before you start to think that fighting the Winchesters is a good idea. Then I can get home for once to see my little girl."

He glared at them both even as his partner began to pull him away. "You're going to regret doing this," he threatened Dean.

The younger man gave him a small smile. "I have a life full of regrets. I figure, what's one more?"

He slammed the door in their faces and turned back to Sam.

"Call Cas. Let him know the hunters are still sniffing around." He went back to their weapon bag and began to rummage. Sam watched him suspiciously.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make sure they start back home, at least to the highway, and don't turn right around to follow us to the bunker. Call him."

The way Dean moved, like a soldier about to go to war, made Sam hesitate to call the angel even after Dean closed the door behind him. A part of him wanted to insist that he go with Dean to be sure his brother didn't pull something drastic to scare those two hunters.

---

Routine was good. It would keep them all from going insane.

At least, that is what the angel thought. They hadn't been here too long but already the isolation of the old house would have been weighing on him if it wasn't for the routine.

Castiel waited for Nyx to get ready for bed, cleaning up after her as she brushed her teeth and washed her dirt-smudged face. In an imitation of an adult, she even made sure her bed was perfect. She had settled into the house happily, into the sameness that he knew Meg found irrationally irritating, and he had resolved to wait and see how long it lasted. She was young enough that, to her, a change in her books was just enough to keep her happy and a change in routine would be enough to cause her to take notice. Sooner or later, she might not like it so much.

So set on keeping her calm and happy, Castiel simply did what he saw as best and let her live her own little life, hoping it would help her. What few books he had read to try to understand human parenting, what he had learned from Dean and Sam, helped him. He tried to make this odd transition to normalcy perfectly natural but he was sure somewhere he had maybe messed up. Parenthood without help from his human friends was difficult. There were monsters to chase out from under beds, drawings to help her with, the never-ending struggle to get her to behave when she felt grumpy, and endless questions to answer. There were always questions. But once he figured out she was doing it because she wanted him around, he hadn't minded. If he was overindulgent towards her, Meg never said anything about it and he wasn't sure what the demon had retained from her own three years with Nyx. She did things with more ease than he did.

Pulling up in a chair, he sat beside the low bed he had found for her and watched as she fixed her pillows and crawled to the headboard. But before he could tuck her in, she sat up and looked at him so expectantly he thought that something was wrong.

"You're ready to go to sleep? Did you want me to leave?"

She shook her head.

"You want to read?" Another head shake and Castiel gave her a slightly frustrated smile. "What would you like?"

"You read." She picked up a thin picture book from the pile stacked on the edge of her bed. Nyx stared at him expectantly as she all but shoved it into his hands. He blinked. He'd read his books to her as a baby, complicated texts that he knew she couldn't really understand. But picture books seemed rather…

Childish.

"Nyx, you should sleep."

Ignoring his obvious discomfort, she bundled herself down under her blanket and gave him an impatient look. "Read." She reached out and tapped the cover. "Dray-gone."

Castiel frowned at the picture book. He didn't remember going and getting this book for her, but he didn't question it. It might have been Meg or the Winchesters who had packed it into her duffel bag. The awkwardness of reading a book like this was something he was going to have to ignore. Angels didn't read children's books, he thought irritably. He was one of the highest angels still regarded in Heaven. Children's books were beneath him. He wasn't….

"Read," she repeated insistently. Nyx gave him a look that said she wasn't about to take no for an answer. Resigned, he began to read it to her, laying the book on her lap so she could look at the pictures. The book itself was not very long, not much to read for an angel who could speed read an entire tome if he chose in under a few minutes. It would be so easy.

Except reading just the first few pages took nearly half-an-hour. Nyx wanted to know the why right from the very first page; why a princess had to be rescued, why she didn't fight because her own mother fought so well you know and the princess had to save herself like her mother did. Castiel had a hard time thinking of an answer when, in an absurd way, she was right.

Curious questions but once he read the first page to her, it was clear she was happy with this book being different as the writer twisted the story. Then when he tried to turn the pages Nyx would stop him, flip back, and point out details of what she liked in the pictures or get him to read a part over and over again so she understood it. At first it was almost maddening; he tried to tell her sensible answers to end her questions, to try to speed it along, but there was no telling what new questions she was going to ask him.

Slowly, as they finally reached the fifth page, he started to enjoy himself. It wasn't clear if Nyx cared for the book itself but he realized when she leaned into him closer that she wanted to hear his voice. She only stopped him to pull him onto the bed beside her and, squeezing onto the edge, he stretched out. Nyx quickly tucked under his arm and starting to ask him another question, tapping the dragon.

Castiel found that he was starting to become involved in the story himself. He didn't do the voices like she said Dean did but he had a slow, low way of talking that Nyx seemed to like. She burrowed in closer against his side and whispered for him to read more.

He turned the page, finished the small paragraph, and waited patiently for what was sure to be a new round of questions about the princess in the paper bag dress. When nothing happened and the weight against his arm grew heavy, he glanced down to see that Nyx had fallen asleep. Her entire little body was tucked up against him and she was breathing slowly and deeply.

As awkward as it should have been, he smiled and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. It took several minutes before he found the will to move. Setting the book to the side, he let her roll down on the bed and her eyes fluttered a bit though she didn't wake. Tucking her in, he helped her rest back on her pillows and wrapped the quilt tighter around her, making sure that she was safe and not about to fall out of her bed before he snapped off the lamp.

He had to admit, as trying as the past few days had been on his patience, moments like these he did enjoy. It gave him a sense of balance and peace, compared to how terrible things had been.

Running his hand over her small body to be sure she was okay, he let his fingers rest on her cheek. "Nyx. I'll protect you."

She murmured and burrowed under her blankets, smiling in her sleep as Castiel stepped back. The windows still had their wards scratched on the glass and plastic siding, and when he glanced out he saw Meg wandering over the backyard. Without any houses surrounding this one, they were virtually alone and he was glad. The privacy meant they could take care of Nyx without suspicion.

Resting his hand on windowsill, he watched Meg and wondered what she was doing. The demon had knelt in the snow, doing something he likely didn't want to know about, but with his eyesight he could see her lips moving.

What spells she did were mostly demonic but warding spells. She really was worried about being caught.

Her head turned suddenly and she looked up at the house. Castiel withdrew back into the shadows, out of sight, and watched her for a few seconds before creeping out of Nyx's room. He knew she would come in eventually and wanted to be ready for her.

Meg would disappear, like she had used to, and her explanations were that it was to give her some balance. She needed her freedom and Castiel sympathized enough to not say anything against it. He stayed close but like her he kept his ear on his family to see if any angels had moved. His brother had kept to his promise though. No angels had left Heaven for very long and they were left alone. It gave Castiel time to find supplies, to keep an eye on Meg and Nyx, even when they were unaware of it.

Settling into this life was strange but he didn't feel as restless as he had three years ago, waiting for the coming of Nyx and the battle against Lucifer.

Castiel had to smile to himself at the thought of those long weeks spent before, and distractedly he tripped over Nyx's heavy winter boots she'd left dripping wet near the front door. Muttering aloud, he picked them up and dropped them before the heater in the living room. With the way things were thrown around, the room was in shambles and he cleaned slowly, using the monotonous task to occupy his time.

He always had so much time on his hands when Nyx slept and Meg was gone.

The backdoor opened, sending a blast of cold air that made him shiver. He only felt the cold more now that he'd abandoned wearing his overcoat inside, as a few remarks from a puzzled Nyx let him know that wearing it all the time didn't make sense to the child. When the door slammed shut, Castiel turned to face Meg, who was soaked with snow and ice from the sleet storm passing through. She was shaking from the cold and gave him a low grunt in greeting when she passed him to kick her shoes off against the wall.

"Where were you?" he asked.

She gave him a shrug. "Afraid I'm stepping out on you?" Meg countered.

He was getting used to her agitation when he asked her questions, so he only shook his head as he took a seat on the couch. "Why would I be worried about that?"

Meg stared at him. "You're still so trusting."

"Like I said before: I trust you to do what I know you'll do." He held up a hand. "It isn't blind faith but I know you."

"Right," Meg muttered and he gave her a slight smile.

"Do you want anyone else?" he asked indulgently and watched her lips purse.

Clearly finding it too exhausting to keep up her usual sarcasm, she rolled her eyes and padded over on pale bare feet to sit beside him. "You're lucky I don't."

"I'm very aware of that." He watched her sit stiffly beside him. They both sat so rigid that when his leg brushed hers he felt her tension. "This is bothering you, isn't it?" He gestured around the room at her look. "Staying still, having to trust in being safe here."

"It's not that bad this time around. That's not why I'm all up tight, Castiel. I'm freezing and in desperate need of something to take this edge off," she answered, her teeth chattering to emphasis it dramatically. They ran the house a bit cold when Nyx slept, a way of saving the energy because normally they didn't need it. Castiel murmured under his breath because he knew it wasn't the heat Meg was referring to. They hadn't used the bedroom for days and he wasn't sure if Meg's standoffishness was deliberate. She caught his eyes on the loft overhead. "Cool off period is killing you, huh?"

Castiel ruffled his hair and quickly looked at the floor instead. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"She's in bed?"

"Yes. After I let her play in the snow, she was very tired—." He stopped mid-sentence when Meg stood up and stripped off her soaked shirt. She grinned at the way he stared at her, wide-eyed and almost innocent.

"Good." Meg unbuckled her jeans and pushed them down just below her hip bones as she backed away. "Unless you want to do this right here? She could still come down, you know."

"Do what?"

The demon grinned wider. "You're not that clueless, feathers. I'm cold and want to warm up. You've been in the house all day with energy to burn. Do the math."

He dumbly pointed at the stairs. "But Nyx is… she…"

"You'll just have to keep quiet, won't you? You can bite on that, if you have to." She pitched the shirt at him and he was slapped in the face by the sodden material. When he pulled it off, scowling at her, Meg arched a brow and toyed with the strap of her equally soaked bra, the lace so sheer that he could see through it. Castiel swallowed down what he'd wanted to say and she obviously knew how she affected him as her eyebrow cocked upwards and she cupped her breast, tracing her thumb over her nipple teasingly.

"Didn't you miss me, Clarence?"

Meg was gone before he could stop her and Castiel took in a deep breath to calm himself.

He was zapped to the loft bedroom before Meg was halfway up the steps. He could feel his phone vibrating with an incoming call but ignored it, watching as she came into the bedroom. She eyed the bed first, the discarded clothing she'd left before, and the sheets he had changed a few days ago as if in preparation for this.

Castiel waved his hand to flick on the space heater, before he approached her once Meg closed the door. She was watching him closely, as if expecting the same treatment they'd been giving each other for a while now. Distance, a sort of boring camaraderie.

Meg had called it 'cooling off'.

Castiel now called it ridiculous.

He bent a little, shoulders hunching as he pushed her into the door with his body weight. With his head tucked against her shoulder, he felt Meg's chin tilt into his neck and she lifted a hand up between them to rest on his stomach. When her head turned toward him he kissed her, feeling the cold still on her lips and enjoying it. It made everything seem somehow more clean and clear.

Castiel wanted to touch her like this, when she was still cold and almost ethereally glowing with it, just to see how her skin warmed to his touch.

Pulling her away from the door, he led her to the bed, the clean sheets crinkling when she sat down and he leaned down with his hands braced on the mattress. Meg murmured against his neck when he pressed close again, teeth grazing her earlobe when he spoke.

"Touch me," he muttered.

"Bossy," she whispered though her hands slid down his shoulders again, and Castiel shook his head, biting on the sensitive skin of her ear to discipline her gently.

When her cold hands caressed his stomach again, this time moving beneath the thin dress material, he shuddered and let her pull him onto the bed. Meg's murmuring was nonsensical to him, hard to listen to with the way his blood roared through his body and his heart pounded in his ears. He'd missed this closeness in the few days since he had last touched her. As much as he wanted her, to absolve that separation by touching and tasting her, he had waited for her to come to him.

Maybe the reason why she had been uptight was also affecting him.

"Trying to take control this time?" she asked against his ear when he clasped her wrists in his hands and pinned them down to the mattress.

"Well." He paused and sucked a mark onto her neck, causing her to moan, before he moved further down to tug at the edge of her bra with his teeth. The hitch in her breathing made him smile against her skin. "Someone has to."

Letting her wrists go, Castiel dipped his tongue between her breasts and felt her jerk when he brushed a ticklish spot. Before he could linger on the spot though, Meg suddenly rolled him over onto his back and undid his shirt with a seductive slowness, the sound of each button popping loud. Her eyes gleamed obsidian as she stared down at him, sucking on her lower lip thoughtfully as she let the back of her hand trace the ridges of his abdomen.

The roughness of her touch made Castiel sit up, cradling her with his legs, and begin to kiss down her neck, rasping his tongue over the goosebumps on her skin. Letting his hands skim over her skin, he felt the way she seemed to warm to his touch and she stopped shivering so much. The startled moan she gave when he reached between them to cup her breasts had him smugly entertaining the thought that he had caught her off guard again. Her body was incredibly warm now and he was debating on his next move when she caught his hands in hers and held them away.

With an unceremonious shove, she pinned him back down on his back and grinned at his startled look. She lay flat on his chest and nipped at his lower lip, tongue darting out to tease him. At his nervous swallow, she chuckled huskily and sat back, nails raking down his chest.

"Might want to bite down on something, Clarence. This could get loud."

---

Sam sighed and checked his phone. "He's not picking up."

"Might not be around. Maybe Meg and him are on outs again," Dean said as he pulled the Impala into the side garage of the bunker..

His brother snorted rudely as he eased out of the car, duffel bag in hand. "Yeah, sure, if you still believe that."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He redialled Castiel's number, waited, and then gave up. "Let's get in, see what Kevin has to say."

"Knowing Kevin?" Dean smirked. "Won't be a thrill a minute."

Rolling his eyes, Sam followed his brother wearily into the bunker as he dialled Castiel again.

---

Castiel was starting to see the appeal of letting the sexual tension build between them to an almost unbearable level. Meg was draped over him, panting as hard as he was and her heart banging in hard rhythm with his own. Arms wrapped around her body, Castiel kept her as still as he could to keep from ruining the moment, while enjoying the way his body nearly hummed with pleasant endorphins.

She'd followed through better than he expected. His jaw ached from how fiercely he had had to bite down in order to keep quiet.

Lazily, Meg reached up and patted his cheek before gently pulling her bra out of his mouth. The material was nearly ruined by his teeth and she tossed it away, her hand returning to stroke his lips.

"That's my boy, Clarence, you kept as quiet as you could. I'm proud of you." She moved her hips a little, causing a friction that made an aftershock roll through them both. She choked back a moan and he nipped at her hand as if to stop himself as well. "Thanks for the ride."

Working his jaw, he opened his eyes. "You're welcome." Reaching down, he pulled the bed sheet up over her hips and stroked his other hand down her back. "Why did we wait again?"

"To make sure that week wasn't a fluke. "

"Hmm." His head tilted and he looked down at the top of her head as she rested down against his chest. "Was it?"

He felt her chuckle and then smile against his skin. "No. Not for me. You?"

Since she actually sounded concerned he sighed. "Of course not. You know how I felt."

Meg lifted herself up on her elbows, head cocked to the side. "So what do we do now? Just keep hiding out?"

"What else can we do?" Castiel thumbed a dark curl before he draped a tendril over the top of her breasts. Her skin had a glow from sweat and exertion and he couldn't stop staring. Meg's neck arched when he reached up and massaged her shoulder gently, fingers seductively caressing the nape of her neck.

Eventually, the demon sighed and turned her head to look at the floor. "Your phone is going off again."

Groaning, the angel rolled onto his stomach and reached for his pants. Adjusting her own position, Meg stayed sprawled on his back and curled into his warmth. She felt near to weightless and as Castiel listened to his voicemail he tried not to be distracted by her breath in his ear.

Sam's message finally ended though and he sighed. "I should go talk to them. Something about the hunters."

"Mm." She nipped at his shoulder. "Run along then."

"I should stay," he contradicted when he felt her willingness just in the way her hands wandered down his sides. "To keep you and Nyx safe."

"You could do that too." Meg pushed off of him and started to crawl away. He caught her leg in his hand and pulled her back under him.

"I want to do that." There was such a force in his words that she stared up at him thoughtfully. "I love them as my brothers but I want to be here. With you."

She looked up at him in confusion. "Cas."

"You could ask me to stay." He lowered his head and kissed her. The slow, deep kiss made them both tremble and he broke the contact between them long enough to murmur, "Ask me to stay."

She allowed him one last kiss before she pushed him back and sat up a bit.

"Go answer the phone." The demon scooted to the end of the bed. "I'll still be here when you get back. You know that."

He watched her and just before he could speak, to turn her over and try to seduce her to prove his point about staying, the door creaked open. They both jerked around, sheets and clothes flying, and Castiel tumbled off the bed when Meg suddenly shoved him over. Winded, he peeked over the bed to see Meg snatching the bed-sheet up to cover herself before she faced Nyx.

"Had a bad dream," Nyx said as she rubbed at her eyes. Still mostly asleep, she was grumbling as she slipped into the bed beside Meg. The demon stared at her, confused by how close she scooted and how Nyx didn't care that her mother was naked apparently. "Monsters. Smoke."

Nyx gave Meg a look and didn't see him down there, and Meg glanced over her shoulder. Castiel was holding his breath, his beseeching eyes on Meg's face. For once, he'd been so stunned that zapping himself out of the room hadn't come to mind.

That he and Meg had come to terms was something they were still trying to work out. Neither of them was very sure what Nyx's reaction to them being together would be. Neither of them wanted to know yet.

Meg sucked in a breath and used her body to block Nyx from seeing Castiel.

"Come on, monster. I'll check under your bed for monsters and then you are back to bed."

She quickly pulled on a sweater and pants before she hopped off the bed. Nyx protested sleepily as Meg picked her up and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief once he heard the door shut behind. Quickly, he fished the phone off the ground and listened to his voicemail again.

---

"So," Dean started as he gingerly nudged a pile of books. "I was thinking I could go get some provisions…"

"No damn way." Kevin glared at him over the books they had stacked up. "You left me to do all the research. Again."

He shrugged. "Not like you don't enjoy it."

"That's not even the point…"

"Cas left me a message. Said he was busy," Sam interrupted as he walked down the steps and picked up the book he had left behind. "So where are we at?"

"He's not coming back?" Dean asked.

"Ah, no." His brother flipped through a few pages. "Said he wanted to stay with Meg and Nyx."

"Great. The one person who can read all of these books fast wants to play house." Dean carelessly tossed another book down from his pile, opening it to the index. "Fine, let's do this."

The three men huddled around the table, stacks of books and old maps scattered between them. As much as Dean hated the grunt work of research, the books were pretty fascinating to him. There was more lore here than he had read in ages. Kicking back, he picked up a book on expelling monsters from bodies and stripping away powers, and sipped his coffee as he read.

It was an hour later when Sam suddenly shuffled around in his seat and thumped his book.

"Hey, get this." He was wearing gloves; the text he was reading so old that Kevin had insisted because otherwise he was going to destroy the precious but decaying paper. Sam stroked his finger down a margin line. "It is a story on nephilim."

Kevin and Dean looked at each other. "Uh, Sammy," Dean said. "Focus. We're researching on Eve. Not angel babies."

"I know but this is interesting!"

With a sigh and annoyed, Kevin rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "Besides, nephilim were just really legends, weren't they?"

"Any recorded time where hunters or Men of Letters managed to get wind of angels or demons having kids was rare, you said that before," Dean pointed out.

"But there is a case from a very old text, sort of 'handed down Father to Father, story to story' that sort of thing." Sam ran his gloved hand over the book gently. " 'The birth of nephilim is something that usually kills the mother.' "

"What?" Dean peered over the edge of his book. "Sam, we're reading up on Mother of Monsters, not…"

"Look, I found it, and it is kind important. Maybe that's why whoever helped Meg and Cas conceive a child, whether God or Sheol, chose Meg." He pushed the page over that was starting to fall out. "Maybe there's more to Meg and Nyx than we thought. Special baby thing aside."

The other men looked at him. "Angels coming down and impregnating women in the guise of men?" Dean asked, indulging him.

Sam read the recount. "Says they were beams of light."

"Go figure. At least Cas went the fun route with Meg."

Kevin snorted and Sam eye-rolled. "Not the point, Dean. It is just odd that it happened in the first place. Remember how Cas and Meg both said that their kind had never reproduced before? By the sounds of it, nephilim were rare for a long time and according to this the nephilim they did find were very powerful. All with the same personality. Sort of 'no family, become mercenary and reclusive' behaviour."

The other men shrugged. "So why did this Man of Letters think that the birth would kill the mother?"

"Doesn't say."

Dean tried to think back three years to that night. "When Meg gave birth to Nyx, remember how it was? She bled out a lot."

"And Cas said that Nyx was scared. That kid was aware something was going on. I remember him almost having to heal Meg, which she rarely let him do," Sam agreed.

Kevin gave them both puzzled looks. "So God or whoever had a hand in this wanted to be sure Nyx was born to a mother?"

"Looks like." Sam turned another page.

"So maybe every other nephilim was raised without parents. Turns them strange. Makes them into some sort of… wild card or something like that."

"But Nyx was raised by a demon and she's not human. But she's… different than the rest?"

The prophet shrugged. "She doesn't know that, guys. To her, she's as human as you and me."

"So that leaves a world of mystery about what happened to the nephilim," Dean said. But he glanced at Sam, who looked concerned as he read further into the notations. "Sam?"

"According to this guy, he spoke to a 'prophet'. The nephilim were wiped out except for one or two. It's kind of… tragic. The angels realized they couldn't be controlled, so they let them be wiped out. Michael led that rally." Sam tapped the book with a finger. "Though it kind of does make sense, I guess. Angels were created by God and not allowed to actually reproduce to replace their own numbers. I guess maybe his way of thinking was that if he limited their numbers, it might make them more protective of their own family."

He ran his hand over his jaw. "So why Castiel and why Meg?"

They all thought about Castiel and how he had changed over the years.

"Yeah well, Cas has always been special," Dean admitted, setting his book down. "Let's get back on the subject of Eve. Any thoughts?"

"We've spent weeks at it this," Kevin said, tossing his own book onto of a discard pile. "We could spend five years straight and still not read everything in the library. Maybe the solution is you guys killing her."

"Ah, well." Dean looked sheepish. "That might be impossible."

"Why?" Kevin asked. "You said Metatron killed Adam and he was part of Eve."

"He was a small part of Eve and nowhere near as strong as she is. And Metatron died doing it." Sam put his book down, open to what he'd been reading. "The old solution was the Phoenix ashes but it's obvious that it's not permanent."

"Maybe it is a creation thing," Kevin muttered but neither brother heard him.

"So either we find a way of killing her or we get her back into Purgatory, provided Hell gets blocked up."

Dean shrugged. "Pretty sure Purgatory isn't that easy to get in and out of anymore, Sam. Death was more than a little pissed about Reapers doing that."

"Good point." Sam looked around. "What about his scythe? It can kill anything, supposedly."

"Again, we'd have to deal with Death and he'd be angry over that."

"So what, we're stuck?" Kevin asked and Dean shook his head.

"We got a lot of problems. Keeping Eve down is just one of them. She's been quiet though. Any word on Azazel?"

"None." The young prophet stared at them both. "What about the hunters?"

"They are our problem only," Dean argued and Sam shook his head.

"It's to protect them, Kevin. If Cas and Meg were to get wind of that, I don't think it'd be pretty."

Kevin clicked his pen a few times. "Well, why don't you get Garth to send them out against Eve? Sort of like recon? There's enough monsters out there, so we'll need them."

"Could keep them busy," Sam agreed. "They want to hunt so bad. Give them something new."

Dean shifted in his seat. "Let's just hope they figure out it is something to really focus on."

"Let's call Cas and Meg back then. We can use their help. I know it seemed like a good idea, separating, but Cas knows a hell of a lot more than we give him credit for." Sam shrugged. "With winter hitting harder than usual, maybe if we…"

"With any luck," Kevin said, leaning back in his chair. "Monsters will go quiet for a bit. I've not heard much on the radar about any movement either. Demons and angels are dead silent too."

"Mm. Well, maybe for once we get to relax this Christmas."

Sam gave Dean a look. "Yeah right."

Unseen in the corner, Castiel closed his eyes and sent himself back to the safe-house.

---

Without Castiel and not knowing what else to do, Meg had put Nyx back to bed and made a bit of a show looking for monsters. Her daughter had only slept when she had sat down on the bed with her, and once she nodded off again Meg had stayed watching her. Until she realized how much she liked staying there and then her agitation was back. There was something in that moment that made her suddenly itch to get out for fresh air, to clear her head. Ensuring the doors were all locked at the front, she took her favourite spot on the back porch for some quiet.

She had only just started to relax when her phone began bleeping and she stared at the number '666' thoughtfully. Muttering that she was screwed anyway, she put it to her ear and sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Are you alone?" Crowley asked.

"You know I don't like personal calls, Crowley. Or any sort of call from you."

"You weren't lying about Azazel." He blurted it out. "I'm shocked. And he's coming for you specifically. Even put Abaddon under house arrest. What have you done, Meg, to get such personal attention?"

There was something in his voice Meg hadn't heard in a long time. A very real fear.

But she also knew better than to trust it. "So why are you calling me?"

"I figure we can cut another deal. One that involves me not…"

"No thanks. You stabbed me too many times. Do I look like a Winchester?"

"Don't you dare hang up on me! Meg!"

She heard his furious shouting for her not to put the phone down and ignored it, rolling her eyes as she hung up on him. Even knowing that Azazel had made himself known to Abaddon and Crowley didn't really hit her immediately. She had spent so long on the run before that now it was just a disappointed sense of déjà vu. She sat and stared out, watching the expansive woods and ridges just behind safe-house as she thought about how she should have felt. But at the same time, she knew who had been behind her, who had been there the moment Crowley had called.

"You going to just stand there or sit down?" she asked.

"You don't trust him?"

Meg leaned back and looked at Castiel. He was leaning against the porch railing, back in his suit and coat and looking all angel. "Do I have a good reason to?"

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. "No."

When he sat beside her with a flourish, Meg exhaled and nudged closer to him to keep warm. "Crowley has his uses. But at the end of day, the first mistake any of you guys made was trusting him for longer than a few minutes."

"Nyx?"

"Sound asleep. That kid could sleep through the Apocalypse." She rolled her eyes up to the sky. "She didn't ask questions, you know."

Castiel eyed her. "About us?"

"Have to tell her eventually." Meg's head dropped and she frowned at nothing at all. "Just not sure now is the best time."

"She may figure it out." He turned toward her. "She is very smart."

"We have a world of other things to worry about."

"Hunters, demons, monsters," Castiel said and then shook his head a bit. "It's a mess."

Meg was watching him again. "Hunters?"

He told her, in short, what he had overheard. In return, she told him about the hunters in town and he sensed her anger. Castiel reached out, restraining her with a hand to her knee. "Dean and Sam are taking care of it."

"You want me to trust them?"

"Would it be so hard?" He knew the answer even as he asked it and felt it in just the way she tensed. "Trust me, then."

The demon sighed, a harsh sound. "I have to."

"We need time to move. In a few days, we can go back to the bunker to get books and to see what is going on. If we can be discreet."

"Nyx won't like being moved around," Meg argued and he took a while to answer her, as if judging the weight of his words.

"We'll go between the two places. Maybe being on the move will help us. Maybe it won't. But they need my help and I need yours," he admitted. "And I can't let you and Nyx be left alone."

The demon thought it over. "I can find my own contacts, see what is going on. But we have to get someone to keep an eye on Nyx."

"We can leave her with Kevin as well, if you think we can trust him." Castiel put his hand down beside hers and Meg felt him hook his thumb gently over the top of her knuckles. "We can help them. Put Eve back, find a way to end this all."

The demon looked at him. "It doesn't solve our biggest problem, Cas. In the end, say this is all said and done and we survive somehow, what are we going to do? Sell out and play house for the rest of our lives? Disappear?"

He let go of the breath he'd been holding and shook his head.

"I don't know yet."

—