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.

18. Drown (When Angels Grieve

Summary: Castiel puts a plan into motion to find Dean and Kevin again, not caring of the consequences when he contacts Heaven itself. Meg makes plans of her own when threatened by Abaddon and the repercussions of losing Dean catches up to Sam when he goes to find the remaining midwestern hunters .

---

Part 14: Drown (When Angels Grieve)

The low strum of a guitar from the speakers helped keep a steady hum in the room, somehow accenting the hunters rhythmically swaying together in time to the music. After four bottles of cheap vodka and tequila, sway was all they could manage to do without falling. The women tripped and laughed their way across the rotted floorboards, occasionally bumping into one another before twirling off.

If anyone had stumbled in, it might have been mistaken for a small party. Only the hunters weren't celebrating. They were mourning as only hunters could do when trying not to remember the reason why they were grieving for fallen friends. They had enough nightmares, being hunters, and now they had even more

They were two of the five who had made it to the Oklahoma border and after some negotiating with the bar's owner, they had found the safe house tucked just in the back and empty of anyone else. The bar's owner was a crusty old man who had been a friend of Garth's, and he had begrudgingly let them use the back room the moment they had pulled in. Once there, all five had promptly started to get drunk and nurse their battle wounds for the better part of the early morning.

A woman with unnaturally red hair woman rested her head back on her brunette friend's shoulder and sighed as they moved. As she twisted around to carry through an attempted spin, she began hiccuping and sending a waft of tequila-tinged breath in the air between them.

"You're so drunk," the brunette laughed.

"I'm missing two fucking fingers." The redhead held up her right hand to show the missing thumb and middle finger. "If that's not reason to get drunk, I don't know what is."

The brunette leaned close and kissed her cheek. "You just have to move quicker next time."

"I had my hand half way down that thing's throat before it let go, don't tell me about moving fast," the redhead snapped, shoving at her face with her hand."

The other woman laughed and spun her away, bringing her back in a mocking form of a salsa as the record turned over to something more upbeat. They were both too drunk to have any sort of finesse, but then again, no one in their small group had been sober since they had dragged themselves into the safe house. The past few hours had been spent in sweat soaked sleeping bags and holding down each other when the nightmares had grown too vivid. No one discussed what they had seen. No one wanted to think about it. The blood, the heat and the stench of monsters and death would likely stay with them for the rest of their lives.

"I'm feeling dizzy," the brunette muttered and she sagged away from the other dancer onto the couch beside the snoring men. One plopped his head on her shoulder and fell back asleep, muttering that he could still feel fire.

"Lots of fun you guys are. We have to wait for the phone calls, remember?" The dancer spun and ran her hands over her taut stomach. The gauzed stumps where her fingers used to be brushed against the scarred skin and she grunted when the fabric snagged. Still too drunk to really feel the throbbing in her hand, the woman spun away and sashayed over to the table, picking up the bottle of vodka and drinking directly from it. The clear liquor burned on the way down and she gasped, choking on it with tears in her eyes.

"You need some sleep. We all do. We're out of weapons so we've got to keep our… our heads clear," the second woman said sleepily. Her eyes half-closed and she yawned, curling her feet up onto another hunter's lap.

"It can't get worse than this, come on," the dancer said, laughing as if it was a joke. But then her eyes half-closed and her remaining fingers tightened into a fist. "I don't want to sleep. Please."

As if answering her, there was a knock on the door and the entire group on the couch looked over. The redhead nervously looked back and forth, but the other girl waved her hand impatiently for her to check it out. The bar should have been emptied by now; she'd heard everyone leave after the lock up and the hidden room was on lockdown itself. Only the bar owner would know it was there. Laying her hand on the door, she tried not to look at the stumps of her fingers.

"Who's there?" she shouted through the door. "What's the password?"

"Dean Winchester and the password is pumpernickel for some reason." The familiar, friendly voice made her eyes open wider, sobriety for a second taking over. She had thought he was gone to see his brother but maybe he needed a place to hide out as well. Unchaining the door, she swung it open and launched herself at him.

"Dean! Thank God you're okay!" she nearly squealed as she hugged him. He hugged her back and she was sure she felt his hands momentarily slip down her sides. Not that she minded; this was Dean Winchester and she, like her friends, had had more than a few fantasies of him and his brother.

"God had nothing to do with it." He gave her a slow grin that made her stomach flutter and then gestured at the group on the couch. "You're all here?"

"Yeah, yeah." She moved back to the couch with its lump of bodies. "Guys, wake up! Dean's here."

They were all so drunk that only one managed a throaty moan for a greeting and then snuggled back down.

Dean looked out the door he'd come through, fingers tapping on the door frame. "So there's no one else coming?" he asked. "You haven't seen Sam or Castiel, have you?"

"No. Was Sam coming around? I didn't see him in the fight. And the angel?" She made a sound and limped over to get a chair for him. "He doesn't hang around us. Last saw him with that woman you brought with you. What was her name?"

"Meg," one of the drunks piped up. "She was a tight ass."

"That's right, she was with you all," Dean said and he nodded, satisfied that no one was coming in.

"So what've you got for us, Dean?" the hunter asked hopefully, hiding her maimed hand behind her back in a vain attempt to look normal. "I mean, you have news already, right?

"Well." He shook his wrist and a shining silver blade slid to his palm. "It's bad news for you all."

Her eyes went to the knife, lips half-parted in a surprised 'o'. Thinking he was joking, she nervously chuckled and looked up into his green eyes. Slowly the laughter faded and she backed up a few steps. "Dean?"

He smiled, an expression void of any real emotion, as he closed the door and with an ominous click locked it .

---

Heaven…

Camael dug his fingers into the garden soil, feeling it get beneath his well manicured nails and dirty them. It felt good to feel the earth under his hands. Though it was an illusion, with all the time spent in the Garrison the angel had found that moments like this to himself were precious and few. Here, in this garden, he could feel everything that happened in Heaven but did not have to act on every little thing that went wrong.

Something had gone wrong and the warning of it had ricocheted through Heaven, though no angel was certain what that feeling was.

The moment of loss had struck him as hard as every angel but Camael had managed to control his reaction. While other angels had reacted with screams, with flying to what remained of the true Garden to see if they could feel Him there again. Several had searched all of Heaven and much of Earth to see if they could find Him now that they had felt His presence again. Camael had stayed behind to pray, kept to his duties, lost himself in them since time had a way of passing so differently in Heaven. The angels of every choir under his command had let him be, understanding that maybe this was merely his odd reaction to what felt like the call of their Father.

Then the call had died and they were left as cold and alone as before.

Camael felt the change in air the instant he dug his fingers into the soil again. Without lifting his head, he patted a small flower into place and looked up at the light he could sense approaching

"Hello, Castiel."

The gates slammed open with a furious bang and the angel stormed through. His true form was looming behind the confines of his vessel, the roaring shadow of what he truly was causing a spectre of enormous proportions, and everything about him crackled with energy. Remembering to keep calm himself, Camael stood with his hands held out to the side to placate the approaching angel. Before he could move Castiel had him by the throat and shoved back into a tree, the bark crunching into his spine.

He groaned, grabbing at the hand holding him. "Castiel, brother! Stop this!"

"Why didn't you protect them? Kevin and Chuck were prophets!" Castiel squeezed hard and leaned in.

"We didn't feel a threat to them!" It was easy to know what Castiel spoke of, it only made sense. Camael's own guard had been there to see the damage but, with the bargain they held with Castiel not to interfere, they had done nothing to help Sam Winchester. "We would have…"

"Why didn't you protect her?" Castiel shouted.

Camael's steady gaze never wavered. "Why didn't you?"

As if his words had stung, Castiel let him go and backed off as Camael gasped and brushed his dirty fingers through his hair.

"What truly happened?" Camael asked, watching as Castiel turned away and looked up at the sky. "We felt such loss. We felt God."

"What are you talking about?" Castiel asked as he sank to his seat and buried his head in his hands. The muffled, monotone edge to his voice caught the captain's notice.

"Didn't you feel his loss, Castiel?" Camael's eyes turned heavenward. "We can't feel him or his Light anywhere, like we used to. We used to feel it all surrounding us, but now there is nothing."

"I didn't notice."

Camael stared. "How could you not? You're an angel, beloved by God."

"I never felt anything like this before." Castiel's eyes squeezed tightly shut. "It is loss but it is so much worse."

It didn't take the other angel much to guess who he was talking about. "The abom…. your daughter?" Camael asked gently. "Castiel, forgive me, we felt it as well underneath the loss of God. It was just as sharp a pain, feeling her removal. As if she was a light snuffed out."

Castiel didn't hear the sympathetic words. His mind was solely on what had happened and he wasn't sure how else to feel. "I should have protected her. All of them. I've lost her, lost Dean and Kevin, Sam…"

Nervous by how explosive the other angel was, Camael stared at his grieving brother. Grief was such a thing that angels struggled to understand. Eternity made it so moments like these were mere grains of sand in time to them and to see an angel like Castiel feel this way was strange. He didn't know what to do. Was there something he should be doing? Giving words of comfort? A touch?

He thought about how his brother had been in the past years. He had fought because he had had something to fight for. Without it, Camael knew that his brother could be on the verge of dangerous.

"What do you have left, Castiel? That can make you fight?"

The words were strange coming from such a young voice and Castiel lifted his head a little. Of all the angels, for Camael to be so serene sounded so strange. As if he was aware of what had happened but hoped for another outcome.

Camael was aware of his brother's piercing look but held it with a smile that didn't quite reflect in his eyes. Gently, he put his hands on Castiel's shoulders, feeling the anger still radiating from him.

"What would you have me do?" Camael asked.

The look that blazed in Castiel's eyes nearly made Camael regret those words.

---

Time had stood still as Castiel returned to Heaven in his blazing fury and urge to blame others. He'd left Chuck's house without a word to Meg or Sam, left the demon to care for the hunter in the sort of ironic situation that he would have chuckled over in the past. But all he had cared about was making a move. If he stopped to think about what had happened, he knew he would break further and it was a sight he hadn't wanted any to see.

Now, standing on the back steps, Castiel wanted to go in and find things all to rights somehow. Dean back and on the mend, Kevin arguing with Chuck, Sam catering to his brother and Meg with Nyx teaching her spells in demonic latin. He hadn't realized how much he had craved that side of strange normalcy until it was gone. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to take deep and shaky breaths. He needed to help Sam and he needed…

He needed Meg. He needed her fire and her anger, her darkness that would somehow show him what to do. The demon had been so quiet, nearly unresponsive. Maybe she knew something, some trick she had shown Nyx to escape. Maybe the reason for her silence had been to figure out where their daughter had escaped to.

Maybe Meg could help him find a balance in the devastation of what had happened.

But she was gone when he went back into the house, leaving him alone with Sam. There was nothing else to do but stare around the kitchen and curse her. Dumbstruck with anger and grief, Castiel nearly launched himself after her and the obvious path she'd left in her dark trails of smoke and sulphur. The longer he looked at the trails, the more it calmed him down to see that she had left such a trail. For once, she wanted him to find her, he knew, and he wanted to follow. Even though he had seen the coldness that had slowly seeped into her as Sam had spoken, he knew with her he could find something to help him.

It was Sam that now worried him. Unable to heal him with Grace, he had to get him to a hospital and quick. Meg hadn't done much to the human, bound his wrists and legs with fabric to stop the bleeding, but that was it. It didn't surprise Castiel; her apparent friendship with Sam only had so much warmth within it.

When Castiel turned, he saw that Chuck was still lifeless against the door, his eyes accusingly on Castiel it seemed. The angel ignored the corpse. Time for that later, he knew and as he shrugged his shoulders he reassumed the nature of an angel.

Sam protested the way he lifted him up but Castiel grit his teeth and ignored him.

"I need to get to Dean," Sam whispered.

"No, Sam. You need help and I can't give it to you." Castiel ignored his further protests and picked him up into a fireman's hold.

"Cas, please."

"Enough," the angel snapped. "You're no good to anyone bleeding out or dead."

The neighbours must have called the police finally, because as Castiel slipped out the back door again, he heard the sirens. Meg's car that Sam had driven before was gone and he sighed in relief, knowing he could track her if he had to. Sam continued to complain, obviously becoming delirious from pain and fever, and Castiel quickly turned with the man in his arms. By the time the police began to nervously enter the ruined house, he was gone.

---

Kansas…

The hospital room was sterile and cold, compared to the heat that had happened inside of Chuck's house. The disorientating sight of the cold linoleum and fluorescents was enough to send Sam almost back to sleep but he fought against the lethargy setting in his muscles again. Exhausted, he blinked his eyes rapidly and through the start of a pounding headache, he became vaguely aware that he was strapped down.

"Stay still." Castiel's voice sounded like it was echoing and he had to strain to focus on it.

"Cas?"

In a blurry vision, the angel appeared over him. "I brought you to a hospital. They had to set your legs as best as they could and you are on medication."

"How long have I been here for? Why am I tied down?" Sam jerked and Castiel sighed, unbuckling the straps for him.

"It has been nearly a day. You were strapped down because you experienced another one of your episodes and this one turned incredibly violent." Castiel sat on the chair beside the bed. "I brought you here because I couldn't heal you."

Sam rolled a little, eyes almost crossing as he focussed on the wires coming from his IV and the oxygen tubes attached to his face. "They did a number on me, huh?"

"They did." Castiel's head was down. "They left you alive but just barely. There was some internal damage as well. I tried to heal you but that spell repelled me again when I tried too much Grace. It's frustrating that I couldn't heal you and I'm sorry."

"I know." Sam licked his dry lips and immediately his brain went to the thing he cared most about. "Dean! Did you find Dean?" Castiel's silence forced him to try to really see the angel clearly. "Cas, come on, answer me."

"I couldn't leave you but I asked the angels to help. It is as if he's fallen off the face of the planet." The angel rubbed at the back of his neck. "If he was possessed, it may be impossible to find him. Whoever is inside of him gets all the knowledge Dean has accumulated over the years. Ways to hide, where things have been locked away."

"I don't like it either, which is why we have to find him," Sam snapped, trying to push up off the bed. Castiel reached out and grasped his arm, pushing him back down.

"You need to calm down and rest."

Sam had his mouth open to argue when the door snapped open and a small, portly man made his way over to the bed. He beamed at them both, pleasantly bland and somehow suiting the white room to perfection. "I see we are awake. I'm Dr. Medei."

"How soon can I get out of here?" Sam demanded and even Castiel blinked at how abrupt he spoke. The doctor simply checked the charts and shrugged a shoulder.

"The breaks were very clean. They should heal quickly," the doctor continued in a calming monotone.

"How long?" Sam demanded. "How long do I have to wait?"

"Well it is a matter of…"

"How long!" he shouted and the doctor barely flinched, clearly used to outbursts.

"Six to twelve weeks, depending on your body." He didn't see Sam's face drop into an expression of hopelessness and he rooted through Sam's chart papers carefully. "There is the matter of your CT scan though. You had a series of what we think were epileptic seizures and your previous records show no sign of this, Mr. Plant."

Not for the first time, Sam cursed Dean's choice of names on their botched insurance forms.

"While you were out, your friend Steve here allowed us to do a CT Scan although he kept oddly insisting it wasn't necessary." Not seeing Castiel's annoyed look, the doctor put an X-ray in the lit box in the corner and began to gesture. "You are suffering from unusual activity in the occipital lobe but nothing truly conclusive. The neurologist on staff is very concerned as we've never seen a case like this before. We'd like to you keep you for some observation."

"That's not possible."

"I insist."

"No! I have to find my brother!" Sam shouted impatiently, slamming his hands on the thin mattress. The doctor opened his mouth to argue and Castiel stood up.

"Let me talk to him, please."

"Of course. Though I must say, Mr. Plant, that it is possible what you muttered while under medication," the doctor checked the observation notes, "about white lights and seeing a galaxy of stars, is a hallucination. Too much visual stimulation perhaps. You may have even hallucinated seeing your 'brother' in the first place, or he may be fine. But please feel free to discuss this. I need to speak with the nurse about medications."

He left with an unaffected smile, and Castiel waited until the door snapped shut before he turned to Sam.

"You need to be careful. If you draw more attention to yourself, I can't help you," he warned.

"Where's Meg?" Sam asked and he looked over at Castiel to see the angel staring at a spot on the wall. "Cas?"

"What happened to Nyx, Sam?"

The young man closed his eyes. He had hoped Castiel would ask him anything else but that. "I'm sorry, Cas. I just… I think I know and I'm sorry."

"With what happened, I can't blame you, Sam. You tried, you kept telling me how you tried." Castiel swallowed and looked at the monitors instead of Sam. "I've felt thousands of emotions, since I met you and Dean. I just never felt anything like this. Even when I chose to bury the memory of Meg and Nyx to hide them, I knew they were kept safe. They were still there."

Reluctantly, he looked down at his hands.

"Except now? There's no going back." His long fingers clenched into fists. "I wasn't there to protect her, to keep her safe, and I promised her I would."

Sam watched him take a seat on the chair again and he shoved an IV cord out of his way to turn as far as he could on the bed. "Cas, if there's any way."

"I need to see what happened. To understand why…"

The drugs were addling Sam but not so much that he would simply extend his hand to Castiel to get it over with. He watched him warily, eyes darting over the angel's face. Knowing what Castiel suffered through only made it worse to see him like this. Sam had depended on Castiel to remain strong and now neither of them would be of much use to the other like this.

"You think that would actually help you. Or make it worse?" he asked

The angel stood up, fixing his coat around him. "I need to find Meg, and see where Dean has gone. If I can save him…."

"Dean." Sam hesitated. "No, he's not Dean any more, is he?" Sam's eyes went to Castiel's and held his gaze. The angel sighed.

"No, he's not. When you're possessed, you're not what you once were. If Azazel and Michael are both with him, I'm not sure what they will do to him on the inside."

"Find him, Cas. I'll get out of here as fast as I can but I…"

It was a sign of Castiel's agitation, his anger, that he didn't wait for Sam to finish before he was gone. Sam rolled onto his back and raised his hand to his head. He had to block out the sound of the screams and the sound of Dean's voice for a little while. His other hand dropped to the call button for the nurse and he only hoped the drugs he was on would be strong enough.

---

He was dreaming.

Had to be. The bunker was no longer this quiet. Not since before Castiel had brought Meg back into their lives, before Kevin had made it his home and angels and demons had taken notice. This place had an almost tomb-like feel to it now. His home had never been so calm and almost sedated, even at night.

"Sam?" Dean called out, tilting his head back to look at the upper levels. He couldn't see through the shadows but Sam should be working in the shelves. Getting books ready, spells at hand and maps drawn. They had to fight Eve.

Didn't they? Where was everyone?

Dean looked around the interior of the bunker, digging his hands into his back pockets as he circled slowly. It looked the same; shelves lined with books, weapons scattered over the table, his half-empty glass of whiskey and the smell of stale coffee and old paper. The pieces of his life were there. This was still home.

There was a low skipping sound, of a needle tripping over vinyl, and the familiar sound somehow didn't feel right. It felt like it should be somewhere else, with the way the static hummed and droned in an echoing effect. When he made another pass around the room on his search for Sam, Dean finally noticed the old player sitting in the middle of the table. It wasn't like him, or Sam, to leave a needle to scratch the delicate surface of a record, any more than it was like him to do something to the Impala to wreck its engine. Dean stared at the vinyl player on the table and reached over to fix the needle. Immediately it picked up, nudged by his fingers to a track, and the chords came on mid-way through the song.

"That her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale."

Staring at the record, Dean clenched his hand into a fist and knew that this was wrong. He was pretty sure he didn't own a Procol Harum album and maybe the song was giving him some sort of message. Wherever he was, it wasn't home. This wasn't his bunker, his brother wasn't waiting for him in the archives. There would be no Castiel to lecture him about using his time better, no Meg hurling insults, no Kevin with his snarky comments, or Nyx with her happy chatter. He was alone and he felt it acutely.

He rocked back on his heels and then turned when he heard the door swing open. Half-expecting Sam, he flung himself backwards in shock until he met the wall. Dressed like the day Dean had last seen him, John Winchester was crossing the floor with a swagger that Dean as a child had always imitated. He had that wry grin, though his craggy features were relieved by it, that he had had whenever he met his sons.

"Dad?"

"Hey, kiddo." John took a seat at the table and clasped his hands on his knees. "Heard you were up to trouble."

Dean looked around, puzzled by his father's reappearance. "I'm dead. Nah, I'm not. I can't be."

"You might be." John tipped his head forward to look at his scuffed boots. "Would explain 'A Whiter Shade of Pale'."

"No… no, that's not possible."

"Come on, Dean, let's go have that drink. We'll talk about what you think you did wrong."

Shaking his head, Dean stared in confusion at his hands. "I was supposed to do something."

Something flickered before him and his father disappeared like a video's distortion. Now Anna stood in his place and before he could move back in surprise her hands grasped his. Her pale skin was glowing in the low light, her eyes bright and sad, but there was strength in her grip.

"Wake up, Dean. You promised. Don't give up yet."

She was gone in the next instant and replaced by his father once again.

"You want to tell me why you let that angel and demon start that kinda crap in your life? Because I mean, I get it, you felt responsible and all," he asked and Dean stared at him. John almost looked forgiving and Dean was pretty sure that the last thing his father would do would be so understanding about Dean not killing Meg after what she had done in the past.

"You're not real."

"Really?" John's grin turned conniving. "Then who am I? Come on, Winchester boy. Who am I?"

"Azazel," Dean breathed. Before he could dodge, the demon launched forward and snatched him by the throat, lifting him into the wall behind him.

"Smart boy. Daddy would be so proud."

"Why are you doing this?" Dean whispered and Azazel rolled his eyes around as if thinking it over.

"Well, I don't know. Revenge, that's not a good enough reason?" He squeezed hard. "I was content where I was. I was… I was being reborn, remade. And half way through, some grace launched by me and a goddess grabbed me, tied me up to this stinking angel. So God could see what a creation like that could cause."

He squeezed even harder on Dean's throat until he choked for air. "I was dead, Dean, and because of that angel and all the rest of you, I was brought back! Partially remade, partially healed. Half-whole."

He dropped the other man to the floor.

"Do you have any idea what that's like?" Azazel turned away and his face shifted to a younger version of John Winchester. Instead of the snide silkiness, now there was a slight monotone, somehow more threatening with its quiet pitch.

"We're all half of what we were." Michael's voice was more serious than Azazel's and Dean watched the change that had overcome him, seeing it in the way the angel held himself. His body seemed to be straighter, his shoulders thrown back as if to assume a soldier's pose. He gave Dean an almost sympathetic frown. "We can help each other, Dean. You know we can. It's why you said yes, after all these years."

"Don't kid yourself." Dean leaned his head back on the pillar. "I did it to save them. If you're looking for sympathy, you aren't getting it from me."

Michael turned toward him. "And you did so well. Did you remember hearing their screams? Your brother? The prophet when he was blinded?" His eyes never wavered from Dean's face. "The little girl?"

Dean looked at the floor and shut his eyes.

"You do, don't you?" Michael leaned close so his breath brushed Dean's ear. "You were going to protect them, remember?"

Over Michael's shoulder, Dean saw, crouched on the steps leading down, Anna again, this time beside a large black man with just a strong a glow to him as Anna had. She looked up at the angel beside him, then back at him, and she smiled.

It's okay, Dean, we won't leave you alone with him.

That Michael and Azazel didn't seem to see these angels meant that they were hiding from him, somehow in the depths of Dean's own mind. Maybe, he thought, it was an afterblow from Nyx and her healing. Gasping for air, he shut his eyes, and lowered his head again.

"Leave me alone," he whispered.

"You're stuck with me now, Dean," Michael whispered. "I owe you, so much, for what happened. You think I'll let you stay in comfort? Don't be naive."

He was gone, leaving Dean alone. The bunker swirled, brick and wood flying around in a whirlwind, and then reforming around him into a dark cell with only a small shaft of light from under a door. Dean drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them.

---

Kansas…

Meg drove without any real aim as to where she was headed. Setting the car into motion had been easy; a simple twist of the key and changing gear, and she'd left Chuck's house behind. The little voice in her that warned her she should wait for Castiel to come back had been one that she'd ignored. She knew what she wanted to do.

It was time to lie low.

Driving by herself was suddenly strange again. Now and then, she'd check in her rearview mirror and when no one looked back at her, when no one asked thousands of questions of where they were going and why the trees lined the roads like that or why it was still snowing, she forced herself to look back at the front. The surprising sense of loneliness brought with it a dull ache she wasn't sure she could understand yet.

Even stopping for gas was something she did without thinking. Without any money, she had to steal what she could, once even resorting to distracting the gas clerk by blowing up his generator so she could pilfer some liquor and a hunting knife from behind the counter. She still had an angel sword, kept close as ever, but she'd done stolen the hunting just to steal. In the confusion she was driving off, accelerating heavily just to feel the car's jerk forward and the steady hum as it roared down the back roads.

She wasn't even certain how long she had been driving when the exhaustion of running away suddenly caught up with her. The open window tossed sleet and snow into her car but she welcomed the icy blast. It numbed her face just enough, let her feel the fire of it when the salty mixture lingered on her skin, and then the cold trails of the melting snow down her shirt. Meg ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears as she watched the sunset again through the drifting snow.

Her aching muscles let her know that she might be a demon but she needed to get out of the cramped confines of her old Cougar.

"Lot of good being a demon does me," she muttered as she pulled off the highway towards a small roadside bar. "Could have just blipped in and out but no, had to drive. Right, kid?"

She lifted her eyes to the mirror and saw the empty seat behind her.

"Damn."

As she braked her car and put it in park, further out from the diner, Meg slid her hands down the wheel and stared at the bloodstained fingertips. Just a few days ago she'd been in a small war. Now she was running away again and was looking worse than she had in weeks. She smelled like smoke and sulphur, the blood on her clothing leaving her with a meaty smell that once she would have revelled in but suddenly felt a revulsion for.

Again her eyes darted to the mirror and in the next moment she grabbed it and wrenched it off, tossing it into the passenger seat. Calming herself down, she sucked in deep lungfuls of stale air and tossed her battered jacket into the backseat. It took some fishing around to find a spare shirt she knew she had stashed in a bag, a plain white mens shirt that would fall almost to her knees. As she yanked it over her head, she debated on driving on.

Meg shook her head. No. She needed a drink and to get out of this car. Automatically, she checked the backseat and cursed herself for doing it.

---

Camael crouched in the snow across the parking lot, desperately wishing he could use corporeal wings to shield himself from the wind. When he'd agreed to watch over her for Castiel, he hadn't expected the demon to be so… so…

Boring.

Forced to cajole another of his vessel's bloodline, he'd gone for an older man this time in denim and leathers. Rustic enough to suit the area if he had to do anything and plain enough he'd go unnoticed. The other angels watching Meg had stayed in the shadows as much as he had. An entire Legion of Heaven's soldiers was watching a demon and if that didn't mean that perhaps they had lost their way, he wasn't sure what did. They had wanted to mourn and Castiel had managed to convince them with just a few words to watch over his charges. Another Legion watched over Sam Winchester and a third was looking for Eve.

Castiel hadn't realized that Camael had also set out two other groups of angels against his orders. One to watch over his brother, the other to search for the creatures that had attacked his daughter. Having seen his brother's reaction, his emotion, to the child's apparent death, had struck chords in the old guardian of Eden. Had touched on emotions he had not felt even as a human.

Camael had his own thoughts on that, having spent so much time watching Castiel, but he kept them to himself and merely ordered the confused angels to keep a sharp eye for anything unusual. If anyone could find a sign, it would be them.

Still, the demon was so boring to him. While Castiel's grief had been so forceful, hers seemed almost non-existent. What did you expect from a Hellspawn? Camael thought to himself and then dismissed it. There must be something there for Castiel to want her.

When she finally left the car, bare-armed in a white shirt that fell to her knees to hide the torn jeans, Camael slipped into step behind her. He wasn't sure she sensed him but Castiel had insisted she needed protection. He just hadn't said from whom and Camael had the suspicion it was from herself.

---

Meg knew an angel was following her. It wasn't hard to figure out that there was one, but she didn't feel that prickle up her spine that Castiel always brought. Without thinking, her hand went to her necklace and toyed with the small silver charm before shrugging. Whoever was following her she didn't care about.

She just wanted a drink.

The bar had enough rowdies to mean she might go unnoticed, a small slip of a woman to their eyes in battered clothing. Taking a corner table, she eyed the people around the bar but to her they were all the same. Just people she didn't care about. Even the waitress, who gave her a concerned 'you okay, hun?' she barely saw. She knew how she looked and when she ordered two glasses of bourbon, the girl slipped away at how gravelly her voice was.

Meg only abandoned the table long enough to go to the dirty bathroom and look at herself in the mirror. Her skin was splotchy with soot and blood, and baring her teeth she scrubbed at herself until the bruises were revealed beneath the grime. Until she was less exhausted, she'd be slow to heal. Gingerly, she looked at the gouge in her side and saw the flesh had knitted over.

"Bet you're glad you're not in this body anymore, Cheboygan, you'd be pissed at the beating you took," she muttered.

Thankfully her drinks were waiting for her when she finally came back out, her skin clean and hair damp and lying in thick waves over her shoulder. She knew she was attracting looks in the mostly male bar but ignored them, trying to covertly figure out where that angel had gone. Nothing around here though smacked of holy righteousness.

She would have known if Castiel had been the one to follow her.

The first shot went down hot and choking, the second smoother and settling in her stomach with a delicious burn. The waitress automatically replaced the drinks for her and Meg set about drinking herself into a quiet stupor. It would take most of the alcohol in this place to do it, but at least she could get a head start on it. Slumping over, she rested her chin in her hand and looked outside.

"Don't want to go."

"We'll come as soon as we can. You be safe and we'll come find you."

"Promise?"

"You know it, monster."

In self-disgust, Meg dug her other hand into her thigh to pinch the skin, reminding herself not to get lost in remembering what wasn't real any longer. What was the point anyway? She was a demon, she recovered faster than this. She had no reason to wallow like this.

Nyx.

Meg had never had something, someone, love her from the beginning so totally, and to lose that hurt and stung more than she had expected. She knew what she was feeling was grief and in her desperation not to feel it, she was willing to go numb. It had only been days but it was strange how she felt.

It was as if her shadow was suddenly gone.

Starting on another round, Meg ignored the stares and the conversations that became louder and louder as if to attract her attention. The need gnawing at her to just rest and not think was strong. Maybe if she lost herself enough, it would all fix itself for once without her having to do anything.

Meg really doubted that.

She had a glass lifted to her lips when she heard the dry "well, well, well" from close by. A man's voice but not one she recognized, so she didn't bother to turn. Only when a beefy hand slapped down on the table by her own did she look up to see a heavy-set demon staring at her.

"Meg. Never thought to see you out here."

She squinted, not recognizing him, and then looked away. "Get lost."

"That's not polite. You're in our area where we're workin'." He dropped into the chair across from her and grinned, showing dark gaps where teeth should be. "You don't remember me, do you? Bates." When she didn't answer, he scooted his chair closer and leaned across. "Rumour mill is a-flying. Azazel bein' back and all. Abaddon's all one big happy kitty with him back after he put her in her place. Crowley's crawlin' around on his belly like a lizard to keep out of his way."

Eyes on the demon, Meg leaned back and picked up her glass again. "You do have a point, right?"

"He'll be after you next, rumour has it. Doesn't take kindly to you shacking up with an angel like you did. " Bates shrugged. "Could have forgiven it if you gave that kid to our side like you should have."

Meg's fingers tightened around the glass. "Shut up."

"He was all thrilled when he got her killed. Been crowin' about it all over the blood network. All about how he took something Heaven would have killed for and destroyed it."

Meg looked away out the window and saw in the reflection that several more demons were standing close by. "Great," she muttered, glad she had strapped her weapons to herself before coming in.

Sensing weakness, Bates leaned across the table. "How's it feel to know you're goin' to Hell again to lie on the rack? This time for eternity."

"Like you care," she muttered, drawing a happy face in the window's condensation.

"You used to be a fighter, Meg," Bates said, all disappointed since she refused to answer him. The demon sighed and looked at her glass before downing the rest of it. "He said you'd come to him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." Meg's eyes were on the happy face again.

"I'm gonna ask Azazel all about how that little girl died. Couldn't have been that special if it was easy like that." Bates' grin twisted as he knew he had hit a nerve when Meg's fingers raked down the face she'd drawn. "Bet she screamed."

Meg finally turned towards him. "You think so?"

Before he could dart out of the way, she launched forward and sank the angel sword into his chest, just missing his heart. He screamed out in agony, staring at her, and though the bar went silent Meg went down with him. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she gave him a wild smile.

"I think you'll scream louder," Meg murmured as she straddled him and twisted the sword, ignoring the spurt of blood on her hands as he screamed when his heart was pierced. Orange light and sparks lit him up for a second and then the body was empty of anything demonic. Disgusted, Meg slapped his face and jerked the sword out of his chest. Her head lifted as she heard a pool cue clatter to the floor. The five demons were staring at her, open mouthed, and the humans that claimed this bar as theirs were wide-eyed and backing off.

"Anyone else want to try me?" she asked as she pushed up, her eyes clicking to black. The numbness in her suddenly felt good and somehow more honest now that she had blood staining her hands again. "Because now's the time."

The demons charged for her as the humans almost crawled over each other to get out of Meg's way. Ducking the first blow, she sliced her way through a second demon and spun only to catch a fist to her jaw. She grunted and slammed her knee into the demon's stomach, not caring that her face was cut by a hunting knife. Teeth grinding, she grappled with the hold of the one demon and went to her knees as the second one launched his hand out to stab her. The knife went into the stomach of the demon she was holding onto and it howled, trying to grab her arm.

Meg stabbed upwards into his jaw, saw the orange flicker through his body, and jerked the angel sword out of the demon, whipping it around so its blade was down on her wrist.

Unexpectedly, a large trucker grabbed her from behind. "Easy! No need for…"

Meg slammed her head back into his face and he howled as she broke his nose easily. Lifting her heel, she stabbed it back into his groin and he went down with a cry. Growling to herself about humans, she knelt down on his chest and raised the angel sword.

"I don't know what beef you got with these guys!" he shrieked, holding his hands upward in pleading. "Leave me…leave me.…"

Meg punched her fist into his jaw and felt the bone shatter from it. As he managed a garbled scream, she stabbed the angel sword into the floorboard by his head so that it just neatly nicked his earlobe. "Get the fuck out of here," she warned.

He dragged himself from under her, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, and she watched him leave before she turned away from the exit. The demons facing her had recovered and were standing in formation, waiting for her. After wiping the blood from her lower lip, she raised her hand and concentrated. Her power rushed out of her in hot waves, igniting the liquor in the bottles and setting the bar on fire. The demons nervously looked at one another, then at her, hands tightening around knives as they realized that Meg stood between them and the only exit left.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, black eyes glinting furiously in the crackling light. "An invitation? Come on."

---

Camael watched the humans race out of the building as if the devil was on their heels. He had stayed in the shadows and followed the injured bystanders outside, wanting to heal them. The smell of smoke had stopped him though and he had turned, finally coming into full sight to watch as the bar was set on fire from the inside. A demon came flying through the window and Camuel stared at him as he landed at his feet. The demon was cut badly from navel to neck and the angel watched him struggle to stand.

The demon knew what he was facing the second he really looked at the angel. "Me-me..mercy!" he shouted, voice garbled from the damage done to his face. Without changing expression, Camael reached out and smote him with a touch, casually brushing the demon to the side so he fell to the ground.

The sound of the fight was intensifying and he fisted his hands at his side, ready to go in to put a stop to it. What the humans had just seen could cause enough damage and he knew that the demon wouldn't rest until the entire bar was destroyed, no matter who was left in it. The heat from the fire was incredible and he raised a hand when he saw a blur of darkness inside. The shouting and the sounds of fighting were so loud to him, and he knew what he had to do.

But before he took a step to fly in, a hand went to his shoulder and held him still. Startled, he glanced over to see a weary looking Castiel, still battle-worn and ragged, staring at the bar. Camael lowered his hand and stepped aside, nodding to him.

Castiel watched him go before turning back to the burning bar. The doorway had collapsed in and smoke was pouring out of the windows, and the fire highlighted her small body as it licked up the building from the inside out. Meg was walking through the flames with her dark hair singeing at the tips and her shirt stained with soot and blood. Castiel swallowed down the lump in his throat, surprised at what the sight of her looking so vengeful and deadly did to his insides. Yet it was the way her eyes swooped over the parking lot with a sort of impassive hunger for destruction that worried him.

When her eyes finally came to Castiel, he held himself still and waited for her. The demon's hungry look slowly gave way to a solemn expression by the time she finally came to a stop before him.

"You found me," she said and he watched her tilt her head back up to look at him. There were long knife scratches on her arms and neck and he reached out automatically, not caring how she flinched when he touched the fresh gouges.

"I never lost you," he admitted and they ignored the burning building to stare at one another. Meg's eyes narrowed and then her face relaxed when she saw he wasn't angry with her.

"Not… not gonna pull the righteous angel thing on me for what I just did?"

He sighed and looked over at the bar. Meg stepped into him and he slid his hand down her back to draw her even closer. "No. I don't want to."

His mouth brushed her temple as he turned back. "You ran from me."

Meg's eyes closed. "How else do I deal, Cas? I'm a demon. I do what I know."

He closed his own eyes and took a breath, smelling the thick smoke and burning wood. "I know. Come with me. You can come back for your car."

"Where are we going?" Meg adjusted herself under the hold he had on her, and Castiel felt her tension in the rock hard way her muscles clenched.

"For answers." He opened his eyes again and stared at the building, seeing angels standing on the outskirts of the parking lot. He twisted with the demon to block her view when she went to move. "Ones we both need."

She was going to argue with him, he knew, so he simply clamped his hand down more firmly on hers and flew them away from the bar.

---

The hospital at night was nearly deserted, and a few proper applications of power meant that Castiel was able to send most of the people from around Sam's room looking for other things to do. He needed time and he didn't want humans to suddenly barge in and disturb everything. With Meg already eager for a fight, he didn't like to think of the damage she could do if a nurse fell on her bad side.

As he opened the door to Sam's room, he took a moment to really look at him, and he heard Meg's slight intake of breath to show her surprise. Since Castiel had left him to search for Meg, his recovery now depended solely on what the doctors could do for him. The hunter was dealing with infections and medications made him woozy enough for him not to protest being kept in the hospital. As infuriating as it was for Castiel to see him lying there, at least he was safe.

Only he wasn't sleeping. His head turned abruptly on the pillow to face the angel and demon and astonishingly his eyes were clear.

"Meg," he jerked and tried to sit up, "I…I was wondering when Cas would find you."

Her eyes darted to Castiel and the angel shrugged. "He's been in a lot of pain but I've tried to keep in touch."

"I'm not that out of it," Sam grumbled while pressing the button so his bed sat him up. Meg stood at the end of his bed, one hip cocked as if to show how ready to leave she was. "I figured you'd be back with her eventually since I know what you want to do."

"Do you?" Castiel had moved to his side and stood with his hands just touching the bed's rail. Sam nodded and took a deep breath.

"And if I said I wasn't strong enough, would it matter?"

"No."

Meg glanced at Castiel in surprise, because of the two Winchesters he was often gentler with Sam, treating him with nearly unshakeable respect because of Sam's almost too forgiving nature when it came to him. But when she noticed the tension in Castiel's face, Meg saw that something else had overcome that caring side to Castiel when it came to his friends. Instead of that friendship she was seeing something she hadn't seen since their first meeting, when Castiel had threatened to burn her out of her meatsuit. Everything in him was tight and furious, as if he had lost that softer edge and once again become a weapon of Heaven.

Wrapping her arms around her chest, Meg shuddered and focussed back on Sam.

"All right." Sam seemed to prepare himself by taking in a deep breath. "Do it. Before I have second thoughts."

Castiel reached for Meg's hand and she jerked it away in surprise at his hot touch. Misinterpreting why she backed away, he flinched himself and dropped his own hand. They stared each other down and then he held out his hand again.

"Come here," he ordered instead and abruptly she closed the distance until she was beside him. He dropped his hand away and looked down at Sam.

"This will hurt," he warned him. "But we won't stay long."

"I know you guys aren't doing it to hurt me this time. Do it," the young man said, every note in his voice tired and defeated. Castiel reached out and put his palm flat on his forehead before he looked at Meg. The demon looked at Sam and back up at him.

"What are we doing?" she hissed.

"We need to do this," he countered and before she could dodge him he lifted his hand and pressed it to her forehead. There was a sucking sensation, like being pulled apart from the inside out, and Meg gasped. She looked up at Castiel to see his eyes glowing a bright blue, too bright for her to focus on, and she shut her own to keep from being blinded by the light.

---

When she reopened her eyes, they were in a living room stacked with old furniture and books. Sam was nowhere to be seen and it was as if they had gone back in time. Fascinated, Meg went to move but Castiel's grip on her hand tightened.

"We are only in a memory," he warned when they heard voices in the next room. "Sam's letting us do this."

Before she could answer, he let her go and walked off, leaving her alone in a room that smelled of old cigarettes and alcohol. It was familiar. She remembered it from a time when she had been desperate for answers and a prophet had been unable to give them to her. But the colouring of her surroundings was strange; to her it was as if someone had washed it all out until it was monochromatic and she knew that Castiel had been telling the truth. Even time felt slow and lazy here, the air oppressive and thick with a tension she didn't understand.

"I'm in Sam's head. Not the first time but I could have done without the repeat," she muttered as she followed Castiel into the kitchen that was loud with screams and cursing.

Dean was sprawled on a table, weakly struggling as Sam sewed up his wounds. Nyx stood at his head, cuddling him and whispering to him, and Meg made a low sound, stepping back. Castiel was there behind her and she felt his hand go around hers. "We can't do anything," he said. "It's a memory, remember?"

She nodded and they both heard the knock and Chuck's greeting muffled by the distance. But like Castiel, her eyes were only for the scene on the table before them. Nyx's fingers were glowing as she stroked Dean's hair and whispered that he had to get better, while Sam was whispering encouragement to her to help his brother feel better.

"So how did this all change?" Meg asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

The room suddenly erupted into chaos as several large, well muscled men stormed in. They bared fangs, black veins standing out on their skin to show that they were of the infected, and their shadowy faces seemed to pull from vampire to something far worse. It only took a moment before Sam shouted and launched himself at one and was thrown to the side as if he were a small pest.

"Nyx, get under the table!" Dean ordered, struggling to roll off himself with his twisted leg just as Sam was tossed through the air. Nyx immediately ran to do what Dean told her, covering herself with the table cloth. Castiel jerked forward on instinct but his hand went through a monster's shoulder. Meg grabbed his hand to hold him steady as he forgot his own warning. Dean snatched up a broken chair leg and slammed it against a vampire's skull to knock him down. "Get the fuck away from my brother."

The vampire batted him off with a casual swipe and sent him crashing into the cupboards, the sewn wound ripping open. Clutching his broken leg, Dean choked in surprise and Kevin leapt at the vampire next, grabbing his knife and slamming it into the vampire's throat. The vampire growled and a second turned for the prophet. Kevin was picked off and tossed to the side by the table so hard his head made an audible crack against the wood, and Sam fought alone, trying to protect Dean as one of the vampires made his way over. The vampires were all transformed by darkness inside of them, so their faces were identically grotesque and marred by the infection, but unlike the others this one was focussed on his work. Dean looked up at his face and his eyes widened, as the vampire put a foot on his other leg.

"Stay down," he ordered huskily, gleaming blue eyes showing through the infected veins pulsing on his face.

Another vampire, the one wrestling with Sam, put the hunter into a half-nelson and held him face down on the floor as Chuck was backed into the room, his hands in the air passively.

"Look, buddy, I don't know who you are," he said, stumbling towards the kitchen table. Through the door was Azazel, still in Adam Milligan's body but his once young face suddenly seemed old by the power inside of him. "We don't want trouble."

"That's a shame." Yellow eyes flicked to Dean and Sam. "Hello, boys. You missed me, I hope."

Dean clutched at his twisted leg and didn't answer, too in pain to get his mouth working. But his eyes left the vampire standing over him to where Nyx hid, her eyes big as she stared back at him.

"Let's see here. I have two prophets, two hunters, and…" Azazel paused and flipped the table over, breaking it in two. Nyx stared up at him and he crouched before her, smirking. "One pesky little Creation."

"Nyx, get away from him," Dean warned and the vampire over him moved to block the doorway.

"Nyx? So that really is your name." Azazel's yellow eyes became troubled. "Appropriate."

"Nyx, do what Dean said," Kevin warned, cradling his face with one hand.

"But she can't, can she?" Azazel stroked Nyx's dark hair with fatherly but menacing touches. "She's her mother's daughter, after all, and she recognizes me. Knows me. Knows there's no getting away."

Nyx's blue eyes were on his, almost hypnotized. "Monster."

He smirked. "I'm what she made me. Like you are what your parents made you." He grasped her tiny face in his hand and his grip tightened until she squirmed. "I'm wondering what it would cost to try to kill you, little girl. You are so very special."

"Leave her alone," Kevin snapped, getting to his feet before a vampire could stop him and launching himself at Azazel. The demon hissed, letting Nyx go when Kevin's fist met his jaw, and Kevin leapt off, made lucky by how fast he had moved. He snatched Nyx up into his arms and retreated beside Dean, crouching down. Dean weakly reached out for her small hand.

Watching, Castiel was aware of Meg's fingers entwining with his own more tightly.

"This was your big plan, wasn't it? Had nothing to do with Eve," Sam snapped as the vampire holding him jerked him upright. The pair standing guard at the door had their backs to them now, on the look out for anyone about to storm in. "Get Meg and Cas out of the way."

"They were my biggest threats. But I just can't resist a bit of nostalgia, you know?" Azazel moved towards Dean and ignored how Kevin pulled Nyx away to protect her. Dean weakly looked back at Yellow-Eyes as he knelt beside him. "Right, Dean? You remember this from the last time. You, nearly dead, me about to kill you?" His grin bordered on feral. "Your Daddy won't save you this time either. He's long since locked away, forgotten all about you, I bet. But me? I never forgot what your family cost me."

Dean coughed. "You're insane."

"Yeah." Azazel seemed to think it over. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

He reached out and his hand caught Dean's broken leg. With slow precision, he began to twist the limb and Dean sank his teeth into his lip, head thrown back as he tried not to scream. "Insane or not, this is fun, isn't it, boy?"

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he heard the choking whimper escape his brother's lips.

Azazel rolled his eyes. "Still with the brotherly devotion, I see." He looked at Nyx again. "Though your little family is expanding, judging by the prophet and the girl."

"Leave them alone."

"Why?" Azazel leapt off Dean and shooed the vampire away from Sam before he knelt over him. Behind him, Chuck nervously edged away from a vampire and he plucked Sam's demon knife off the floor, hiding it in his bathrobe sleeve. "At first I was going to leave it at my message for Meg but this… this is such fun."

Sam screamed as Azazel grasped his leg and wrenched hard to the left so his right leg was twisted out of joint.

"Sammy!"

"See, that was what everyone always forgot around you two. Get one, twist just right." He wrenched hard on the other leg and the snap of bone was loud. "And the other will break apart. So what do we do?" There was another snap and Sam's scream became whimpering grunts. "We twist."

Castiel closed his eyes at the sight but Meg's never left Azazel.

Nyx buried her face in Kevin's shoulder to hide and Dean whispered Sam's name as his brother was kicked back and Azazel followed. He ran his hand up and down Sam's leg, twisting now and again just to hear the breaking bones crack further.

"And nothing hurts precious Dean Winchester more than his baby brother in pain."

"Sam," Dean whispered and his brother opened his eyes. He shook his head and looked at Nyx and Kevin, both more defenceless than they were.

Azazel stood up and cracked his neck again, wincing. "All I ever wanted was a way in to the Lethe in the beginning. Then I remembered what I really was. Even with this angel tagging along inside, the planning was too fun to ignore all of you. I only regret that Castiel didn't bring Meg back here with you, Dean. I had counted on him wanting her safe with their brat, not leaving her there to finish up."

Castiel protectively moved closer to Meg even though it was a memory, not reality.

"Oh well. I'm adaptable." Azazel moved towards Kevin and Nyx. "This won't hurt a bit. Might wake up Michael but he won't be that pissed about the girl. The prophet's still just instinct."

"Michael," both Dean and Chuck whispered but it was Dean whose voice carried through the kitchen. "Michael!"

"That wasn't an invitation, Dean," Azazel rumbled. "Maybe he doesn't want to see you."

"I want to see Michael," Dean repeated and the shift that came over Azazel was visible. His face became younger, with his eyes bright and nearly human.

"Dean." The voice had that stony coldness of that time years ago but he also sounded exhausted. "I wondered when you would catch on."

"Don't do this. You're an angel, for God's sake!" Sam snapped for his brother and, in control of the body now, Michael crouched before him. He clicked his tongue several times as if disappointed in Sam.

"Do you know what it is to be an angel? To love your Father and want to be so good, to follow his Word to the letter, that you'd willingly give up your brother? To watch it all go to Hell and you are locked away in darkness when he refuses to interfere to save his own sons? Imagine how it was, Sam, when I figured out that my Father left me to die at the hands of his other favourite son. He let me die, because of Castiel and that-" he pointed at Nyx, "thing."

When Sam cursed, he reached out to grasp him by his hair. "It would be merciful of me to kill you, Sam. That way you won't see what will happen in the end."

"Leave him alone," Dean said, voice bubbling a little as he spat a mouthful of blood to the ground.

"What will you give me if I do?" Michael sounded bored. "You've nothing of value, Dean."

"Just your true Vessel. Your body will eventually decay. You can't do everything you need to without me."

The words caught Sam and Michael's attention and Sam jerked his head out of Michael's grasp. "Dean, no."

"But I want your word you won't kill Sam, or hurt Kevin and Nyx."

Michael sneered, looking at Nyx as he stood up.

"Bet you can feel that that body won't hold you forever. And maybe you'll get out of that deal you have with Azazel at it. Be free. What angel sticks with a demon, right?" Dean asked.

"You're willing to give up just to save your brother." Michael darted over to Dean and pressed close. "How like you, Dean. Why the abomination though?"

Dean's eyes went to Nyx and seemed to see something besides her. Then he looked back at Michael.

"Scared you won't keep control, huh?"

Michael hissed like a snake. "You took my brother from me, the only person left that I loved besides Him. Maybe it is only fair I take you from your brother."

"Dean, don't," Sam warned and Dean looked at him. Whatever thought shared between them made Sam scream his name as Michael grabbed his brother by the throat.

"Say the words, Dean. Will you take me? Willingly?"

"Yes," Dean whispered through the choking hold and Michael's mouth opened just inches away from his. The room suddenly rumbled, shaking pots and pans onto the ground with clattering crashes, and the room filled with light. Glass shattered and flung shards through the air, while the radio and television turned with loud white noise. Grace flooded out of the man, bringing with it a rushing angry sound like a roar, and into Dean, turning his eyes clear white. Lifted by energy, he was pinned back against the wall and his body shook as he took on Michael's altered Grace. As the light died, he fell back down to the floor and exhaled as if it was his last breath.

In Kevin's arms, Nyx turned her face away from the sight and Meg saw the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Nyx," she whispered but the little girl couldn't hear her. Castiel drew her back as he saw Chuck moving, but on the floor Dean was still, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

Adam Milligan's body did a twist in the air and resettled on his feet, followed by a hissing sound. Yellow eyes opened to look down at Dean.

"We're not together, Michael. I'm all sorts of lonely now," he murmured. Dean's body arched and he took a sudden deep breath. The ripped skin over his heart was shining as it healed, the skin no longer tattooed, while the leg fixed itself under the Grace, crunching as bones reset.

"Free at last," Azazel murmured and his eyes settled on Nyx again. Kevin saw the look and drew back, bumping into a vampire who held him in one place. Nyx slid down from his arms and he whispered for her to run, but she was still. Azazel made only a few steps before he stopped and gave the floor a funny look, a short bark of laughter coming from his throat. He choked out a burst of smoke, eyes bulging a little. "No. I was free. I was free, damn it!"

Dean's glowing eyes focussed on his back, and in the other body Azazel's soul was ripped out, snared by the ties that bound him and Michael together. Demon and angel screamed together as their souls were entwined again in a flash of light that sent the body they'd been riding to the ground and this time Dean took both of them. He dropped to his knees and from where he stood, Chuck slipped a few feet outwards him.

"Dean?" Sam whispered as he listened to the low rattling breaths his brother was taking.

Dean's face twisted a little in pain and he looked at him. "I'm sorry, Sam," he answered, head still bent, and then the green flicker in his eyes was gone, leaving his gaze lifeless and cold.

Behind him, Chuck finally stepped out. "Michael."

Dean's body did a jerk and he twisted. There was a firmness now in the set of his shoulders, like a soldier standing at attention, and Castiel knew that it was Michael now in charge of him. Michael turned his head towards Chuck and Castiel frowned as he saw the awareness in his eyes.

"I know you." Michael's voice resonated from Dean, deepening it impossibly. He looked at Chuck. "I know you."

"Yes, you do. I'm the reason you're so angry. But you don't have to do this." Having lost the weak look he always wore, Chuck held his hand out and knelt beside him, touching his jaw. "You know I'm telling you the truth. You can still come back to what you once were."

"There's no going back."

"Dean, don't do this," Sam whispered but Michael turned the face he now wore to the youngest Winchester.

"He's gone, Sam!" He grinned. "Like my brother. Caged. See how it feels?"

"Michael. You and Lucifer were favourite sons but things needed to change. You took what you were told so literally, leaving no room for choice." Chuck's voice was low and instead of insipid cynicism, Meg and Castiel could both see the love in his eyes. He seemed to assume a personality very different from what they knew. "Life cannot continue as it was."

"Father," Michael's use of Dean's voice took on an almost boyish tone, "how could you have left me? You left me. First in Heaven, then in the Cage."

Chuck reached out and stroked his face.

"Because you needed each other but you both forgot to forgive. Even when you were in the Lethe, I thought, hoped, that you could learn to heal. To be happy there. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Out of Dean's throat there was a weary sob and his head rested against Chuck's chest like a child seeking comfort. Chuck wrapped his arms around Michael and sighed. "I left all these years to be happy in my creation but I never wanted you all to suffer like this."

Meg felt Castiel's grip tighten on her hand but didn't understand. Castiel's breathing grew shallow and he longed to move forward. Realization stunned him as to who Chuck could have been.

"But I can't let you hurt the Winchesters or the prophet. Or the girl."

"You don't have a choice," Michael whispered against his chest and Chuck sighed, the knife now in his hand turning.

"We always have a choice." His eyes were on Nyx and Kevin. "We just have to be brave enough to make it."

He stabbed the knife down but before it connected with his back, Michael's arm came slicing up to block it. Using his own momentum, he drove Chuck upwards into the back door. The smaller man made a chortling sound, startled by the arm around his throat.

"Oh, Daddy." It sounded like Azazel but only Castiel knew that it was Michael. "You know how to make a son feel wanted."

He took the knife out of his hand and tossed it to the counter. Shaking his hand, a silver sword appeared and Castiel made a sound, recognizing an archangel's blade.

"You would kill your eldest just to let some abomination live. What kind of Father are you?" Michael asked.

"I should have ended this years ago." Chuck wasn't fighting him. Instead, he almost appeared serenely content with what he had done and what he knew was coming. His placid tone and smile infuriated the angel more. "Even though I had hoped for you to learn the nature of choice."

"A bit late for regrets," Michael agreed and he leaned close. "But don't worry. I am choosing to do this. I don't care why you let Castiel have such power, why you favoured him. I just have this moment, after centuries waiting for you to give me some sign of your love, and I find myself not wanting to savour it."

He slashed the blade across Chuck's throat, just under the jaw and then down in three cuts over his chest.

"So I won't."

Chuck choked, surprised by the quickness of the blows, and Michael sighed as light and blood began to pour out of the smaller man's body. Snapping his fingers, the archangel sword was replaced by a long hunting knife and he slammed into Chuck's throat to pin him against the door. Chuck made a soft sound, eyes fixed on the face staring up at him, but the serenity never left his face.

"You were dead to me years ago," Michael whispered. "I just never knew it until now."

As Chuck's eyes glazed over, the light pulsing out of him began to strengthen and throb brighter and brighter still. His back arched while the room itself seemed to slow down in time. Recognizing what it was, Castiel focussed on Nyx to see that she had her head in her hands and was crying. Then her voice rose in an ear-splitting scream that took on a note only Castiel and Meg could hear.

A ping sound ricocheted through the air like a tablet being struck and in answer the room itself seemed to roar and scream with her.

Everything in Castiel made him long to run to Nyx but then something startling happened to her body. Parts of her small body seemed to fade and then pulse with light as the ping sound resonated. The light pouring out of Chuck travelled through the air in blasts but Nyx's own light collided with it as her actual form seemed to become nothing but shadows. As Castiel watched, her body became like a galaxy of dark dust finally showing glowing stars beneath its shadow. Meg stared as well and her eyes went back to see splits of light pouring out of Chuck.

The connection between Chuck and Nyx continued as the room shook and grew hot.

The light crashed through the room, more brilliant than before, and Sam shielded his eyes from looking directly into the light though Kevin was staring into it. Only the protection of the memory saved Meg from being incinerated with it. She threw her arm up before her eyes when the pain of looking became too much and Castiel grasped her by her shoulders, hauling her close to hide her face against his neck as he withstood it for both of them.

Then the sound and the light faded. A vampire had been burned for standing too close but the others had known to hide their eyes on instinct. When Meg lifted her head from Castiel's neck, it was to see Nyx still staring at where Chuck dangled. She was unhurt and unbothered by the light that had scorched the kitchen, no longer glowing herself. It was Kevin's low moans that caught their attention. His head was buried in his hands and he then cried loudly, lifting his head.

Meg heard Sam's gasp echoing her own when she saw that his eyes had been burnt from their sockets. Castiel clasped her hand tight.

"He looked at what they were." He sounded baffled. "But…"

The wheezing sound from Dean's body was deepening and they both looked to see him kneeling on the ground, heaving as if trying to vomit. Sam was leaning against the cupboard, head lolling as he focussed on the creatures possessing his brother.

"I should kill you," Michael whispered, eyes on Sam. "But I did promise Dean not to let you die."

His face twisted and his head turned to Nyx and Kevin. The prophet was struggling to feel his way over to the little girl. "But I'm not so sure what to do with them."

Before Nyx could move, he leapt beside her and touched her. "Will you be a good girl for me, Nyx? Your uncle Dean?"

Her tiny chin firmed and she stared him in the eye. "You're not."

"You can see that?" Michael's attempt at a grin came out viciously feral. "Then maybe you can see what I'm going to let the vampires do to you. For fun."

She swallowed and shrunk back. Kevin swung blindly at him and he knocked him to the side.

"I promised that I wouldn't hurt you both. I just made no promises to Dean about the vampires, did I?"

"Don't touch her," Sam threatened and watched as the thing wearing his brother turned around.

"Or you'll what? Hobble over to stop them?" Michael smirked, still petting Nyx's hair. "This is just revenge, Sam. I took your brother from you, like you all took my brother from me time and time again. Castiel and Meg took my family from me, I'm taking their family from them. The thing they all tried so hard to protect."

He stroked Nyx's face. "Only fair, don't you think?"

Nyx suddenly lashed out, her tiny palm connecting with his face and her sharp little nails digging into his skin. The strength must have been incredible in the blow because it sent him to his knees and he howled in pain. Nyx raced away, her little feet making slapping sounds on the hardwood as she tried to get to the living room, and Michael fixed gleaming eyes on the vampires as he grabbed Kevin by the scruff of his neck.

"The prophet's of use. Do whatever you want with the Abomination. You." He pointed at the largest of the vampires. "Kill her, drain her, remake her, I don't care anymore. Consider it payment for what you did." His head cracked to the side and he seemed to fight with something internal. "Shut up, this is finally what I want. To see Castiel suffer how I suffered."

Castiel and Meg kept their eyes on Sam. The hunter was straining to get up but the other vampires were waiting eagerly.

"Beat the Winchester so he doesn't have a chance to follow us. Tell him to let Meg know it is a lesson for turning away from what she's been told to do. And to Castiel for disobeying Heaven and his betters."

Kevin was struggling to fight Michael off as he physically moved him from the room, leaving Sam with the vampires. As Meg and Castiel watched, he was beaten down as if in the middle of a gang fight, kicked and punched until he could only lie crippled on the ground with his face a puffy, bloody mess. He reached out for something to hold onto and then collapsed, the fight leaving him.

Castiel closed his eyes as he heard a piercing scream and the sound of vampires growling and snapping between themselves as to who was to kill the girl. Beside him, Meg slumped a little, as if all strength was gone from her.

Sam's eyes finally closed as he lost his fight to stay awake. Then the room was plummeted into darkness as his memory ended and they were thrown from his mind.

---

When the darkness cleared, the hospital room was once again in brilliant and sterile white relief. The propulsion back out of Sam's mind was disorienting enough that Meg had to hold onto Castiel to stay upright.

Below them, Sam, who had lived through the memory again, was struggling to hold it together. His eyes were rolled up to the ceiling, his face scrunched up to stop the flow of tears he wanted so desperately to let go. Castiel dropped his hand from Meg and Sam's foreheads, and then grasped Meg's hand tightly for strength.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I tried."

"It's not your fault, Sam" Castiel said and he looked at Meg. Her eyes were on the bed and one hand was touching her stomach slowly, as if remembering what she had carried once. When their eyes connected again, he saw the deep shuddering breath she took. He had never seen her so shaken and he knew that he wore the same exhausted look. He hadn't expected to feel so drained by the effect of that memory.

"I need to get out of here," the demon whispered and she stumbled out. Murmuring at Sam that he would be back, Castiel followed and found her just out in the hall, leaning her head against a wall and heaving for breath. The reaction, had she been human, would have been normal but Meg was recovering fast. Eventually, the angel knew she would turn to him, calm and cold.

Castiel knew what he felt like doing. Scream and rage and forget for a short time that he had to feel this way.

"I felt him in my head, Cas," Meg whispered as she looked up at him. "As if he left part of himself behind in Sam's memory so I felt everything he did to them."

"We need to stop him," Castiel whispered. "Whatever he has planned."

Meg sniffed and looked away. "It has to do with the Lethe."

"How do you know that?"

"Why else? Why even bother focussing on me, on Kevin? We're the only ones Sheol physically had something to do with, besides Sam, and there might be a chance for him to get to the Lethe." Her face hardened into a tight mask of anger. "I'll destroy him."

"He wants you to come after him, Meg."

"Good because he's getting his wish," the demon snapped, recovering from her shock. But when she went to pass him, Castiel grabbed her shoulder and shoved her hard back into the wall.

"No."

"You think you can stop me?"

"I know I can try, but we've lost Kevin and Dean. Sam nearly died. We've….we've lost Nyx." He stammered the words out, feeling how deep they cut just to say them. Taking in a shaky breath, he looked into her eyes. "I can't lose you as well."

The words were loud in the quiet hallway and Meg stared up at him, all defiance finally leaving when the weight of his words suddenly hit her at full force.

"She was innocent," Meg muttered. "I used to say there were no innocents, everything was a price of war. But…the price was my daughter. Our daughter."

"I won't let Azazel or Michael get away with that, but I need you and Sam to fight with me. I need you," Castiel whispered, cupping her face with his palms. "After Eve, we're not strong enough yet. We need time to heal from what happened."

Her eyes were black now and he stroked her skin to calm her.

"Please."

"I won't go after Azazel," she agreed. "But I am going to look for everything I can to find a way of trapping him."

Castiel sighed, knowing that she was right. Of the pair of them, he had to look after Sam as best as he could. Meg needed to be on her own and he knew that. "I'll help Sam for a day or two. But then I'll come to help you."

Her smile was almost wistful and he lowered his head, brushing her cheek with his lips. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her," he whispered, letting signs of his grief show. He saw her close her eyes to hide what she felt.

"Me too."

He wasn't sure why he needed to see signs of her grief; maybe it was to know that this moment was real in its terrible nature. Before he could go to hold her, Meg's eyes opened and she slipped under his arm. She walked down the hall, lights flickering as she went, and Castiel watched her long after the elevator doors closed behind her.

Closing his eyes, he rested back against the wall and slowly sank down to the floor so he could bury his head in his hands. It had cost him everything to try to look like he was in control, not wanting to lose Meg's faith in him as he had lost everything else. Letting her go to hunt demons and any loyalists to Azazel had been too hard and he knew how reckless she could be.

Faced with a loss like Nyx, Meg would have no reason to hold back, even for him.

---

It took a while for Sam's head to feel close to normal enough for him to move. He heard Castiel and Meg in the hall, heard the hushed arguments, but knew that whatever it was had nothing to do with him. Sam had experienced everything all over again and he had seen the effect it had on both angel and demon. It had only made him believe he was about to make the right choice.

He knew that Castiel was outside of his room and it took him some effort to move quietly, having to bite on his lower lip as he drew the IV needle out of his arm. Biting into the plastic to muffle his groans, using the IV needle he slit the tiny metal across his hand until blood welled enough for him to use. He had to twist around on the bed to get to how he wanted to be and he began to draw on the bedside table.

"Cas?" he called out, drawing quickly, and the door swung open. The angel looked terrible and Sam nearly regretted what he was about to do.

"I'm still here. Did you need something?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered as he quickly finished. "Look, don't take this personally, okay?"

"Take what?" Castiel blinked and realized what Sam had done just before the hunter slapped his palm on the mark and sent him out of the room in a flash of light. It left behind the smell of ozone and Sam shook his head.

"Sorry, Cas." He exhaled sharply and reached for the phone by the bed. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself as he punched in the three numbers. He had to wait six rings before it finally picked up.

"This better be bloody good. I'm literally in the middle of someone," Crowley snarled as a hello. A loud scream echoed him.

"I need to speak to you," Sam said simply. "Room 1207, Kansas Heart in Wichita."

By the time he hung up, the King of the Crossroads was in front of him, fuming mad. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Sam struggled to swing his legs off the bed. "I need your help."

"You need my help?" Crowley's eyebrows shot to his forehead. "My, the twists keep on coming."

"I need you to kill me. For a minute. Then revive me." Sam gestured at the oxygen tank.

The demon blinked. "Come again?"

"The only one who can remove this spell the Trans put on me and Dean is Death. I know it. No angel has done it, no demon can do it. He's the only one powerful enough left." Sam grappled for the edge of the bed and pulled himself to it.

"And I'd help you, why?" Crowley walked around the bed. "I've got Azazel's eyes on me at all times. He even forced me to a deal where I don't get to lay one finger on Meg, and he won't say why."

"You owe me a favour or two. For not killing you when I should have. And you can't say no to that end of a deal. I know your kind. I'll do whatever I have to, to help Dean, but I can't do it from a hospital bed."

"Blimey, you do have it bad for saving big brother." Crowley rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "So let's say, just for kicks, that I do help you. Stop your heart and let you see Death. How are you so sure you'll get sprung to life again? Death is the grumpy sort."

Sam grunted and then groaned when the stabbing pain in his legs worsened. The morphine was wearing off and with it, he feared, his courage to do this.

"Because if you don't start my heart again, Cas will likely find you. And destroy you." Sam managed a macabre grin. "Or Meg might get to you first."

"All right, all right, don't twist my arm. Let's cut a deal. I do this, you do everything you can to take care of Azazel. Everything."

"I thought you would have been more loyal to him."

"Do you know what I was under his thumb? An ant. A promoted ant, but an ant. There's no freedom. He combines the worst of Abaddon and I in one tidy and utterly insane package." He sniffed pompously. "The old ones always do do things like that."

"Fine." Sam held out his hand and Crowley pouted.

"No kiss? I've been waiting years for this moment," he teased and Sam glared at him. "Fine. Prude."

He shook his hand and Crowley's grip was hot, scalding him as a reminder not to cut out on the deal. Then the demon reached for his chest.

"Give Death my regards."

Feeling his heart slowing beat by beat, Sam stared up into Crowley's oddly concerned face until it became too much to focus on him. He took in a breath and in the next moment he was in darkness. The frightening and cold maw of something he knew too well. Closing his eyes, he began to murmur a small prayer that he was doing the right thing.

When he opened his eyes, the hospital room was gone and he was standing outside it, staring at his own body with Crowley's hand on his head.

"Sam, what are you doing?" a female voice asked and he turned to see a slim brunette staring up at him. She almost looked frantic. "Don't do this!"

"I remember you. You're Tessa, aren't you?" he asked and she fidgeted. "Dean said this worked for him, to get my soul back."

"You're messing with a power you can't possibly understand, Sam," she warned, nervously looking over her shoulder.

"I want to see him."

"He's not a doctor, Sam, you can't just summon him and…"

"It is all right, Tessa. This isn't the first time I've spoken with Sam Winchester and it won't be the last. Though he is vaguely resembling a cockroach with his ability to survive." The voice behind her made the Reaper close her eyes and turn to see her boss sitting in one of the chairs, beside an old woman she had just reaped from the other ward.

"Sir, I…"

"Take her. Leave us." Death's eyes were on Sam. "Now."

Obediently, Tessa snapped her fingers and the old woman and her were gone. Sam jutted his jaw out, trying to summon his nerve. Death leaned back in his seat and regarded the youngest Winchester with open hostility.

"You do like to imitate your brother. The nerve of you is either courageous or idiotic." He shrugged. "It is so hard to decide which."

"I need to save him."

"Oh here we go." Death rolled his eyes. "You two always need to save each other. I'm not interested in ripping that thing that used to be a demon and an angel, out of him. I'm sure it is there for a reason. It will interesting to see how Dean gets out of this one."

Death stood up and Sam started for him, forgetting what he was. "I'm not asking you to do that!"

He was a foot away when Death raised his hand. "What are you asking me to do?"

"The spell that the Trans put on me and Dean. Release it." Sam cleared his throat. "Cas said it was unwinding itself anyway."

"If I can, why should I?"

Sam tried to remember the events of the past few days clearly. "You were at Chuck's house for a reason."

"And if I was?"

"Stop answering questions with questions!" Sam screamed at him and the bird-like cock to Death's head was a warning that made Sam swallow down something more cutting. "You were there to see Nyx and Kevin, weren't you?"

"A lot of good it did anyone but yes."

"Did you reap Nyx and Chuck?"

Death blinked at the unexpected question. "That is hardly any of your business."

"So you…"

Death rolled his eyes around, already bored. "I was there again, yes. But I had business with all of them. As to what? No comment."

"You had some interest in Nyx, Chuck, and Kevin. Azazel wanted Meg and Nyx, we both know this."

"He wants the Lethe. And unfortunately, when God had a hand in allowing Castiel and Meg to create Nyx, when Meg and Nyx were both touched by forces far older than any angel or demon, he created a doorway to that place. Tablets do create a way of accessing things, after all." Death hummed and took a seat again. Confused by the tablet reference, Sam focussed on what he could understand.

"If he gets the Lethe, the world ends, doesn't it?"

"The world as you know it? Oh yes. Do you remember Castiel's little experiment? All the souls in Purgatory would be nothing compared to the sheer amount of souls from the Lethe. It was a place for God's cast offs. Those who never met his requirements for peace or for torment. Though I do think Azazel would find he bit off more than he could chew with such an attempt." Death sat back down. "But I fail to see how any of that affects you and your brother."

"I need to get Dean back. If he can get Azazel and Michael out of him, if we can finish this, then we can keep those doors shut."

"You want the spell removed so your angel can heal you. So you can work faster." Death made a face. "Interesting. But you know the consequences. You won't have a chance of retaining any piece of your brother. There will be fragments but nothing to keep him tied to you. The soul wrapped in yours, that has been keeping you strong, will be gone. If Azazel and Michael kill him, he's dead. His soul will be stuck with theirs."

Sam closed his eyes. He'd not forgotten that and knew what he would lose if he bet wrong. "I'm ready for that."

"Are you? You two are never prepared to lose one another."

"I'm asking this as a favour."

"What do I get in return?" Death asked and he reached into his pocket for his watch. He checked the time. "Two more minutes, Sam, and Crowley won't be able to bring you back."

"What do you want?"

Death reached, again, into his pocket and this time pulled out a small glowing ball. "Get this inside of Dean if you manage to end this possession."

Sam took it and found that it was cold. "What is it?"

"Elements of life and chaos really. Azazel and Michael were never to be bound together." He nodded as he stood up. "Make him absorb that and it will unravel what the Lethe did. It will also have… other effects."

"Fine." Sam rolled the ball in his hand and it disappeared to his shock.

"It will come when it needs to. Now, this may tickle." Death reached out and put his hand in Sam's chest. Sam choked and stared up into his eyes. The sensation didn't tickle. It burned and crashed through him. Sam screamed as light filled the misty hallway. "And try not to mess it up, will you?"

Death's words echoed in Sam's ears as he closed his eyes and howled in pain.

---

In a north Oklahoma cabin, Azazel froze mid-step and clutched at his heart. Something felt like it was surging into him and at the same time begin ripped out of him. Awakened, Michael took over and hissed. "Sam's soul," he whispered just as light coursed into Dean Winchester's body yet again, untouchable to angel or demon.

Deep inside, Dean was aware of a pain that scorched every part of him as something went missing and something tired but new came back to him. But the loss hit him hard and he ached because he knew what it was.

"Sammy, what have you done?"

---

Crowley slammed his fist into Sam's chest. "Wake up, you big dumb moose. I haven't got all day!"

Sam choked on air as he came to after Crowley gave him another hit. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in surprise.

"Right, that's a great look for you." Crowley glared down at him. "I hope it worked because I'm not going into you again. Gets all personal and I'll feel like I should buy you dinner afterwards."

Sam stared up at him, eyes fluttering wide as he stammered for breath. "Crow…"

The demon froze, feeling something moving towards them, and he quickly pasted a grin on his face. "Toodles, Sammy. I'm out. Remember our deal."

He was gone when Sam blinked again and in his place was Castiel. The angel's eyes were like ice with his anger and he had his hand half-raised in the air. Crowley had just missed being smote.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice hoarse.

Sam held his gaze for only a second before he promptly leaned over the bed and vomited into the trashcan.

---

One week later…

Sam drove and drove, pointing the Impala in any direction he thought Dean would be in. Now that their connection had been almost completely severed, it would be harder to track his brother. But he had a good idea that Azazel was just wandering until he could force them to come to him. Usually Sam would have planned out something with Dean, some scheme that would have them together and fighting, no matter the end.

Only Azazel was using his brother…. Michael was using his brother… and Sam didn't know what to do.

"I needed you, Dean, why would you do this?"

He thought he felt hands ruffling his hair, like an affectionate big brother would, and he twitched his head, slowing the car down. Since destroying what was left of the spell, Castiel had healed him but the bones in his legs still felt like they could break at the slightest attempt of violence.

Sam just wanted to end this before he broke completely. The doctors had been shocked by his recovery and then pointed out his CT scans repeatedly to show that there was something worse waiting for him if he didn't rest. He was exhausted, the doctor had said, and he'd collapse eventually.

Leaving the hospital had been easy though, since Sam could only focus on one thing. Dean needed him and he had never wanted to let his brother down. So after a stop at the bunker to resupply and gather what spell books he had on exorcisms, he drove, following the signs being left behind.

The first stop on his list was a safe house in Oklahoma he knew hunters like to use. There was a chance they had word about Eve, about what had happened to Dean even, and he had to take it.

Coming to the building wrapped in police tape had been a shock. There were a few cop cars and a forensics van, and automatically he fished through the glove compartment for a US Marshal badge as he braked the car beside the van. An older man greeted him and when Sam flashed his badge and made up a story about passing through, he led him over to the bar.

"Only reason why it wasn't found earlier was because the interior was blocked off. A sort of secret room. The bartender figured they were gone or sleeping whatever it was they were on off. They'd been there over a week before he finally decided to see what was in there." The sheriff rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"How many were in there?"

"Five. And from what we can get, there was only one attacker but we can't nail an ID on him on the security feeds from the outside." He opened the door for Sam and the stench of rotting bodies and blood had him putting a hand over his mouth in reaction. "Yeah, it's bad."

Sam swallowed down the urge to vomit. "So these people…"

"No one local. All are from up in Colorado, actually. Heavily armed but…" He gestured at a white sheet and the coroner there lifted it up to show them a young woman who had been slashed. Sam knelt and immediately recognized her. A woman named Marie, he thought, and she was a hunter. A quick glance at the others let him see that the rest had also been hunters he knew.

"He did a number on them."

"This was on the security feed. The tape is just white but the sound is still good." The sheriff played it for him and Sam listened to the screams, hearing a man murmuring for them not to fight. It was Dean's voice and he shut his eyes. The sheriff looked at him. "So you recognize the man on the tape?"

"No!" He immediately covered with a remorseful smile. "No. Can I have a second with the scene, see if I can notice anything else?"

The sheriff eyed him suspiciously but the coroner nodded. "I'm done here, knock yourself out."

Sam waited until they had gone, muttering to one another about weird Marshals, before he lifted the sheet again. The cuts were from an angel sword, he could recognize it from the times Castiel had left behind bodies, but the savagery was pure demon, he was sure of it. A piece of paper was sticking out from beneath the couch and he quickly palmed it just as the sheriff came back.

"Marshal Dillon?" he asked, and outside people cackled with laughter that Sam ignored. "We've got an FBI agent here that says he wants time with the scene. An Agent Monroe?"

Already thinking up a plausible lie, Sam frowned and followed him out of the safe room, and instantly he relaxed. Castiel was leaning against the bar, looking like an FBI agent with the way he had fixed his loose tie and straightened his coat.

"Agent," he greeted, holding the act together. Castiel nodded and then followed the Sheriff into the room without Sam. Murmuring excuses about making calls, Sam went back to the car and waited for the curious police to go back into the house before he quickly pulled out and left.

He was only a mile down the highway when Castiel appeared on the side of the road and then just as quickly fluttered into the Impala beside him.

"You saw it?" Sam asked and Castiel nodded, hands clenched on his thighs.

"I followed you there. Things have been so quiet I thought Azazel was in hiding."

"He wasn't apparently. I… I haven't seen something like that in years, when Meg still ran with him." Sam held out the paper. "I took this."

Castiel squinted and held it up to the failing light. "Numbers."

"Might be a code."

"They're latitude and longitude," the angel interrupted, finger on the second set of numbers. "Pull over."

"What?"

"Now, Sam!"

Sam had just put the car into park and turned it off when Castiel grabbed his arm and they were flying, just as quickly landing outside a forested cabin. The angel looked around as Sam swayed on his feet.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, dizzy from how fast they had travelled. Castiel tapped the set of numbers on the paper and walked towards the front porch. "Cas! Wait!"

"He's been here."

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Can't you smell it?" the angel asked and Sam inhaled deep through his nose, almost choking on the smell of blood and sulphur. When Castiel forced the door open, the sight that greeted them was the same as Oklahoma bar. Blood sprayed on the walls, and there were even two hunters still sitting at a table, though their heads were off. Sam lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed.

"Damn it."

Castiel shook his head. "We couldn't have done anything."

Sam kicked a chair over and as he turned he noticed the third wall had been painted on in blood.

I'll wait for you, Sammy. Bring friends.

The scrawl was morbid, still dripping and warm, and Sam recoiled back. The message was underlined and just below it was the next latitude and longitude degrees.

"Take me there."

Castiel shook his head. "No."

"What? Cas!"

"Not without help. I can't risk you, Sam, and we don't know what we'll be walking into. You still need rest." The angel grasped him by the arm and in the blink of an eye they were back at the Impala. Castiel held on to try to force Sam to look at him. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam wrenched his arm free and limped around the car, fumbling to find his keys. "Yeah, sure you are. Where the hell have you been anyway? My brother is missing and you won't even get me to him when we know where he is."

Castiel was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should have been here for you but I…"

"You what!" Sam shouted. "Had some celestial business only angels can do? How does that help me, Castiel?"

"I needed time. To myself." The words were surprisingly meek and Sam looked up from his search to see Castiel staring at the sunset, his expression tired. "I hadn't expected it to hurt so much."

Immediately, Sam deflated when he realized why Castiel had stayed on his own. "Cas, I'm sorry."

"There's no need…"

"No, that-that was unfair. You lost Nyx and I'm treating you like a tool." Sam exhaled and rested his hands on the roof of the car. "I'm sorry. I… I haven't even had time to absorb losing her and you know how I loved her."

"I know." Castiel rubbed tiredly at his face. "I loved her as well. I just never realized how much."

"Where's Meg?"

"She was hunting. Her way." Castiel sighed. "She asked me for time, and I gave it to her because I needed to be alone."

"Good." Sam looked him over. "But you miss her."

One look at Castiel's bleak expression told him everything.

"Cas, find her." Sam sighed. "We'll need her and I think you need her more. She might even need you. I know what it's like to lose someone you love like that, Cas. Don't be alone."

He lowered himself into the car and even as he pulled away he noticed that Castiel didn't move away from the side of the road, even when Sam was over the ridge and fading out of sight.

---

After Sam's sad encouragement, Castiel searched for her all over Kansas and Colorado, following her trail every way that he could. It wasn't that Meg didn't want to be found, he slowly realized as time ticked by in impossibly long seconds. Her patterns were erratic at best and seemed to be on a whim. She was upset, angry, and it made tracking her harder than before. There was no way of just laying out in wait for her either because he wouldn't be able to predict her movements.

He simply wanted to grab her by the shoulders and force her still. If he had been human, maybe it would have been easier. They weren't human however, and that was the only thing that held him at a distance, letting other angels watch over her as he mourned and tried to find where Kevin was to give himself something to do.

Eventually, when he slowed down enough to really look, Castiel found Meg on the highway in west Kansas of all places. The demon had finally stopped driving, likely because the snow had turned to rain and was pounding down in waves. It made the roads next to impossible to drive on and the familiar old Cougar was pulled up on the side of a dark back road. She wasn't doing much to hide herself, with no wards up at all that he could see, and Castiel wondered if it was an invitation or not.

Standing across the road, he hesitated for a few minutes, aware of his clothing being soaked, and then made his way over. There was no pointing in wait, he thought to himself. She either wanted him there or she didn't. The closer he came, the louder the hum of music was and he saw her leaning against the window, cheek pressed to the glass and her eyes shut.

Tapping on the glass, he watched as she jerked upright and blinked at the sight of him. He tapped again, an impatient rhythm, as the sleet soaked through to his skin and plastered his hair to his head. Meg sleepily stared up at him. Nervously, he wondered if she'd leave him out in the cold.

But Meg unlocked the driver door and scooted over to the passenger side so he could come in, her feet propped up on the dashboard.

"Thanks," he mumbled once the door was closed. He ruffled his hair to get rid of the cold rain and looked around, before watching as Meg leaned forward to turn down the music. She turned the car back on so that warm air blasted from the vents and he sighed gratefully. "Have you been here long?"

She shrugged. "Under an hour. Couldn't get any further." The demon opened the glove compartment and fished around for a small bottle of bourbon. Twisting off the cap, she gulped down bit and coughed before handing it over to him. Though it wouldn't help, he swallowed the biting liquor just to feel the way it warmed his insides for a moment.

"I expected you to be on my heels miles ago," Meg said when the silence started to drag.

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I know you. It wouldn't have helped either of us at the time."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed on the floorboards a small goblet and a bloodstained knife. Meg followed his eyes and shrugged. "I had to make a few calls. I used rabbit's blood, before you get all pissy. I figure with the angels watching me, killing humans would tick them off."

He looked away out the windshield. "So you know," he said. They had left when he had arrived and he was thankful for the privacy.

"Of course I know." She leaned back against the passenger door. "I just ignored them."

The lack of emotion in her voice worried him enough to look over again to see her watching him cagily, as if she expected him to clamp shackles around her. But all he did was reach out and touch her cheek, lingering on the bruise there. He hid his relief that she let him touch her, almost leaning into it this time.

"How've you been?" Meg asked as he traced the yellowing bruise with his fingers.

"I don't know. I wanted to find you but I thought—" He dropped his hand. "I needed time and maybe it was the wrong choice." The laugh he barked out was coarse and angry. "Wrong choices. I've been doing that a lot lately. This is all my fault. Kevin, Dean, Sam… Nyx."

Meg was quiet, watching as he fisted his hands and gave the steering wheel a gentle punch that beeped the horn. "Not everything is about you, Clarence, and this definitely wasn't something you chose," she said. "We all thought Eve was our big problem. We were wrong."

"I'm sorry anyway." He lifted his eyes to stare out at the road. "I didn't wait over three years to lose you all now."

"So that's why you're my guardian angel, huh?" She was trying to joke but her voice lacked the usual bite. "What's with the late night visit?"

"Sam needs our help. Your help. You need your vengeance."

"What about you, Clarence?" Her low drawl made him turn his head. "What do you need?"

The way his head tilted to look at her more intently made the car suddenly seem so much more closed in. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing out in a long sigh.

"How does grief feel for a demon?" he asked.

Meg curled her legs beneath herself. "It's strange. I never expected to feel it again. Not as sharply. But I…" Her eyes went to the backseat. "It feels like I'm missing a shadow. That's the best way of putting it."

"I know." He didn't move, his hands in his lap and his eyes still closed. "I don't feel right. I don't understand it and I don't think I will ever. I want it to stop for a while."

Meg ran her fingers over her leg thoughtfully but didn't answer.

"We need to get to Sam when he calls, but we'll wait for the rain to end," Castiel explained. "You will likely need your car."

"Fine."

Something strange in her voice made him glance over to see her leaning back in her seat, her eyes closed. Her serenity was fake, he knew, and he reached out to brush her hand. "Meg. You know that I…"

"I know, Cas. Even when you don't say it, I know. The way you always knew, I guess." Her eyes didn't open and he removed his hand, content that he didn't have to repeat the words for her to believe them now. Meg shrugged and nestled down deeper against the door. "But if I'm not going anywhere, I might as well sleep, right?"

"I suppose." He swivelled in his now damp seat and looked at the rear of the car before he hauled himself up. Ignoring her muttering about ruining the seats, he slipped across as best as he could into the backseat, stretching out his legs. Meg leaned over her own and watched him settle, pulling an old comforter up to his chest. It smelled familiar and he wasn't sure why.

"You're staying with me for the night?" she asked curiously. "In a car?"

"Yes." He eyed her as he tried to get comfortable. Meg continued to watch him, resting her head on the back of her seat. He fixed his coat tighter across his chest; the way she was staring making him nervous. "Is that a problem?"

Her eyes dropped back to the console. "No. Suit yourself."

Castiel watched her for a second longer before he reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her slowly into the backseat with him. Meg grumbled as he did it but came willingly.

"I've left you before. To do what you wanted." As she fell onto the seat beside him, he slid his arm tentatively around her shoulders, feeling her tension at the way he did it. "But right now, I don't want to leave."

Meg didn't answer, the stiffness in her shoulders incredible but he waited for her to relax, slowly, muscle by muscle, before he waved his hand and turned the car's engine off. The battery still ran, letting her music continue on in soft strains and she relaxed a bit more. Her body was cold, compared to the car, and he felt her press slowly into him for warmth.

"What happens now?" she asked and he leaned his head over, inhaling the scent coming off from her hair as he tried to think of something. His eyes shut a little as he thought it over. "Cas?"

"I don't know."

They were quiet for a while, Meg scrolling through her phone and Castiel keeping his eyes shut to feign sleep. The urge to fling himself through realities, to find Azazel and Michael, to find Dean, to do something was so strong that he had to fight to stay still. His head felt full of static and relaxing wasn't helping him. Every emotion he had never expected had come roaring to life and he was miserable because of it. Grief and misery. He couldn't focus because of those emotions.

"Castiel? Something wrong?" Meg asked suddenly and he opened his eyes to see that his one hand had slipped down to rest over her breast and his other was clenched so tightly around her arm that his fingers must be leaving marks.

"I…uh…"

Her head rolled on his arm to look up at him. Her eyes searched his face for a long moment, her fingers tightening in his coat lapel. "What do you want to do?" she murmured and he exhaled.

"It's strange." He leaned to the side to look at her. "When Dean would talk about trying to forget things, to forget moments of his life if only for a moment, I thought it was just a human weakness."

The demon's eyes stayed on his collar.

"Now I'm not so sure." Reaching out, he touched the collar of her jacket and slowly pulled it to the side, slipping his hand into her coat to feel her heart beating beneath her chest. "I know some of this is illusion, a body that's not yours really, any more than mine belongs to me, but I can feel you alive under the surface. It's the only thing I have left that can help me."

He stared down between them, watching the rise and fall of her chest as if it was further proof that he needed.

Meg felt his fingers slide beneath her shirt to cup her breast. She couldn't fight that logic or argue with it; she'd done the same to him a few times when she had needed to understand those feelings. When he looked at her, for a moment she saw what he must have looked like as a human: alone and wary of what was to come, utterly vulnerable. She knew how much he had loved Nyx and though part of her longed to talk about it for her own sanity, she felt the need rippling off of him. She muttered his name again as she turned in his arms a little.

When he raised his head to look at her, she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. Castiel froze at the touch, his mouth firm and closed against hers, and Meg moved her hands up his chest to his hair. She felt his hesitation; even now, years after they started this madness, sometimes a part of him always hesitated as if deciding what to do next.

She pulled her mouth away a little. "Stop thinking for five minutes and kiss me," she murmured before her tongue slipped out and licked at his lower lip. Castiel groaned and suddenly lurched forward, pushing her against the seat and lifting himself onto his knees as he kissed her back hard enough that their teeth clicked together. When her fingers pulled at his coat, he shrugged it off and tossed it onto the floorboard before helping her out of her jacket and throwing it over the front seat. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Meg stared up at him, seeing the wildness suddenly inside of him as he braced over her with his hand on the side window and his knees on either side of her hips. The desperation rolled off of him in waves and she kept her hands on his chest.

Just a few years ago, this desperation was something she would have fed off of hungrily, used it against him. But now it was almost terrifying to see something so naked on the surface of an angel.

It was like over four years ago, when they had first touched like this. Only now their roles were reversed.

He made a sound as he leaned down to kiss her again and Meg gave his shoulders a shove until he was sitting back. She straddled him and moved up onto her knees so she could press her lips to his, tasting his startled exhale as she moved her hips into his. The low roof made it hard to undress properly, but she felt his hands pulling at the hem of her shirt and she squirmed to help him lift it over her head. Her bra was off before the shirt even hit the seat and his head bent, hair tickling her skin. His mouth was between her breasts, breath hot, and she felt him biting at her.

"You're leaving marks," she muttered when he sucked a bruise on her breast.

"I know. I want to." His words were muffled and Meg felt his fingers on her jean buttons. When they were mostly naked after an awkward struggle, his hands spanned her waist and held her close, as if to keep her from getting away.

"Easy. I'm not leaving you," Meg muttered against the scruff of his jaw, tasting old aftershave and rain on his skin. He shuddered and thrust into her, muffling her gasp of surprise with his lips. At the same time, his hands tightened on her hips to hold her in place as he started to move. She felt that rutting urge starting in him, and knew he'd hurt them both, as a way of reminding each other that they were alive and here together. As much as Meg always enjoyed that side to him, she wasn't sure why she put her hands on the ones on her waist to stop him. Castiel tensed beneath her and she ran her mouth over his earlobe. "I'm not leaving."

He was so still she wondered if he was going to go cold on her. Then he shifted and his mouth pressed to her neck.

"I miss her too," she whispered as he rested his head against her breast. "And it's my fault. I had one cause left, one purpose, and I lost it. So what do I do now?"

"Meg," Castiel muttered and he took her dark hair in his hand, pulling it away from her face so he could look at her. Her forehead pressed against his and eventually her eyes opened to reveal the slightest sign of vulnerability. Meg was a demon and it had been easy for him to forget how much he knew she had loved that little girl in the face of his own grief.

"She was something we never expected, but she was there. You don't carry a child inside of you for months, raise them, and then forget them. I'm a demon, Cas, but I'm not able to forget it." Her eyes were wide as she looked down at him. He ran his thumbs over her cheekbones and watched the weariness suddenly steal over her. Meg's arms went around his shoulders. "But I want to forget too, even for a little while."

He nodded and leaned forward, letting her meet him halfway with a kiss. Letting his hands go up her back and curl over her shoulders, he let Meg lose herself in him as he finally let himself be lost in her.

---

The two vampires left from Eve's remade brood were starving and Azazel could almost hear them salivating over the potential meal the man in the back of the van could make. The demon himself didn't like to drive but there were times when he could feel Dean pushing back at him, as if he could manage to eject the demon from his body. Driving settled him and the old van was roomy enough not to bother Azazel's preference for teleporting.

Michael was only quiet because he had the chance to torment Dean with thoughts of Sam.

Funny, how an angel could hold such a grudge about losing a brother. Maybe demons were more of an improvement, the old demon thought with a grin.

"When can we eat?" the small vampire in the back growled. "I'm starved."

"I'll pull this car over in a heartbeat if you don't shut up," Azazel warned.

"Told you we should have stayed behind with the others to try to eat that girl," the second vampire muttered. The yellow-eyed demon was debating on saying how he doubted a child would make much of a meal, about how the vampires they'd left behind were like starving as well, but the loud knocking on side of the car meant his newest prize was awake.

"All right, I'm talking to the boy. One of you can drive and once we get to the next stop, you can go eat the locals." Jerking the car's wheel over, he warned the vampires to behave and stalked around to the back, flinging open the doors. Crouched in the corner, Kevin had his hands up before his face as if to shield more blows.

"What's up, Kev?"

"Don't… don't do that." The prophet nearly twitched. "I know you're not Dean."

Azazel grinned. "Maybe I really am."

The prophet's head turned as if he could actually see him through the blood and pus soaked gauze wrapped around his head. "What did you do to Nyx? To Sam?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that." Azazel jumped up into the back and tapped the window to signal the vampires to drive on. "Have you stopped bleeding?"

"Screw off."

"That's not very nice."

"I don't work with demons."

"Sure you don't." He reached into his coat and pulled out the demon tablet he'd taken from Heaven the last time he and Michael were there. "I have some reading for you to do."

Kevin's laugh was cold. "Right. You can't tell I'm blind, huh?"

"I'm sure you've got all that wording memorized, especially from years ago. You can feel the etching." Azazel dropped it in his lap. "You're going to read the fine print, left by Sheol and God. And tell me what it was that would help open the gates of the Lethe again. I've got my guesses."

"Why would I help you?"

"Well." Azazel leaned close, so his breath brushed Kevin's ear. "You know Crowley and his torture?"

The prophet nodded.

"Let's just say that Alastair, Crowley, Meg, all of them… they had to learn it from somewhere. And besides, you'll have no way of knowing if your friends live because of this. Or die."

Kevin swallowed and turned his head down.

"Figure it out. And I might keep Michael's promise to Dean not to hurt you." His teeth snapped viciously. "Or don't and I give you to Eve and let you become a monster."

---

Castiel let Meg doze, pressed against him on the backseat with his leg thrown over hers and the blanket pulled over her. With one arm anchored around her waist and the other propping his head up, he took up as little space as he could. It gave him time to watch and touch her whenever he needed to.

It gave him time to think.

Several times he was stunned to find himself lowering his head to the back of her neck and burying his face in her hair to hide the strange sting of tears he felt. Those moments brought all the grief and hurt back to reality, and he knew Meg was aware of what he was doing. Other times he kept her close and pretended that this was a moment just for them. That it was on a whim to make love in her car. No matter what he did, Meg would only murmur and hold the other hand on her belly steady, but she left him alone. Neither of them had wanted to talk and he was grateful for that at first, until slowly he found himself needing to be distracted again.

He had his head resting behind hers when he felt her shift. "I want to find Abaddon," she said suddenly and he lifted his head to look down at her closed eyes.

"Why? She's dangerous. Even after all those years, we weren't able to kill her."

"I don't need to tell you my reasons. Just trust me. We find Abaddon and trap her, we get rid of another threat."

Smoothing his hand down her shoulder, Castiel noticed that she didn't open her eyes. "Are you lying to me?"

Meg grunted and turned so she lay almost underneath him. "What makes you say that?"

He looked at her closely. "You can't bring her back by throwing yourself in the way of every demon who will give you a fight."

Her eyes went black in reaction. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.

"You don't fool me, Meg. I know what you're trying to do." He braced an arm over her head and stayed up as her hands fisted against his bare chest and gave a little push.

"What would you do then?"

"The same thing. If I thought it would help but it won't, will it?" he asked, patiently waiting.

Something caved, just a little, in her expression and she turned away from under him, reaching for her shirt. He caught her hand and held it away, using his weight to keep her still. He heard her grumbling and ignored her, reaching for his buzzing phone next.

"Sam?" he asked without checking the screen.

"No. Though I do hope he is on your speed dial," Crowley said and Castiel jerked up, sitting between Meg's legs and raking his hand through his hair.

"Crowley. How did you get this number?" Castiel asked, aware of the demon beneath him jerking upright, sitting close against him to listen.

"Darling, you'd be amazed how much I know. I assume if you're there, then darling Meg is wrapped all around you." Crowley took Castiel's silence as agreement. "I have some intel you might want."

Castiel waved Meg to silence when she opened her mouth and he saw her fierce glare. "What information?"

"From what a well-placed spy told me, a certain yellow-eyed demon is headed to a place near Amarillo in the next twenty four hours. Are you following me?" The Crossroads demon sounded agitated. "And I'm very certain he might even be hanging around to see if you all show up. I suggest send in the bulky moose first and try to stab the demon in the back after."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Hell's barely big enough for two, let alone three." Crowley swallowed whatever he was drinking and Castiel could have sworn he heard the smirk he was wearing. "I was nothing much under Azazel and I said to myself 'who would put the best thorn in his side'. The answer is his ex-pet and her overbearing albeit sexy boytoy."

"How do we know this isn't you betraying us?" Castiel asked, ignoring Meg's eye roll.

"Because you have no other choice in the matter. Toodles."

After Crowley hung up, Castiel stared at the phone and scrolled down, hesitating before he sent the text. Meg had pulled the blanket up to her breasts and was staring out the front window, one leg across his lap. His mind almost numb with knowing what could happen, Castiel could only wait for her to look at him.

"What?"

"Are you ready for this?" he asked.

Meg's eyebrow lifted. "Are you?"

---

The drive to the small town was thick with tension, Meg using the silence to create an invisible rift between them. Beside her, Castiel only ignored her music and thumbed through the pages of his journal for a while. He read and subtly began to rip out the pages. It was something Meg didn't think about until they came to a gas stop and they both left the car to stretch, when he tossed it into the trashcan by the pumps. From where she stood at the gas tank, Meg stared at the leather bound book resting on top of the overflowing garbage.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't need this any more," he muttered, leaning against the front of the car with his back to her. The Impala was rumbling up the road in their direction and Meg let the gas handle go. Eyes on Castiel's back, she reached out and fished the journal out, tossing it through the door and into the back seat. She knew the angel. He'd regret what he did in the coming days and she had her own attachment to the journal.

Sam parked on the other side and nodded to them before plunging into conversation. "Crowley was specific, huh?"

Castiel nodded and gestured around the gas station. "It makes sense. The next direction was this way."

Meg rested her hands on the hood of her car and cracked her neck. "A few miles up the road and that doesn't smack of a trap to anyone?"

"It does." Sam unlocked the trunk and pulled out a bandoleer of knives, including Ruby's knife. He fit it to his belt and looked at her. "Which is why someone has to stay close by but not in the fight."

"Me?" Meg's eyes were like sharp knives on their own. "Why me?"

He didn't answer for a bit, until she came around the Impala and came toe to toe with him, surprisingly intimidating. "Because you're unstable," Sam blurted out and her jaw visibly tightened up. "Even more than Cas."

"Oh, and you're just the epitome of Zen, right?" she snarled and he glared at her. "Big brother is out there, about to likely be killed and you're just chill?"

His hand lifted as if to actually strike her and Castiel caught it. "Knock it off, both of you," he threatened and let Sam go after he nodded. "None of us are ready to do this but we have to find Dean, find out what Azazel and Michael have planned to do with Dean."

He saw Meg's eyes gleam and he bent closer. "Please."

Her eyes went back to brown and she sniffed and looked away. Just in the slant of her hips was she trying to put over that she didn't care. That she was fine.

But he saw her hands tighten, fingers curl into fists and mouth go to a thin line, and knew she was far from it.

"What's your plan?" he asked Sam instead.

---

The Impala rumbled as Sam kept it creeping forward, eyes on the old bungalow just off the road. A van had been parked beside the house, with no one in it. The door was open, swaying back and forth as the chilled wind began to blow. It was a scene out of a horror movie, Sam thought to himself, putting the car in park and getting out.

The second his foot hit the ground, an old man burst out of the front door, his head dripping with blood.

"Sam Winchester!" he shouted. "I know you! Help me!"

Sam didn't care that the man had just given away the element of surprise. He needed his help and after failing so miserably at Chuck's, Sam had to be of use. They were midway to each other, when Sam saw the laceration at the crown of his head and knew that the back of his skull was likely opened. He opened his mouth to call for Castiel when a blur moved past him and snatched the man by his throat.

"I told you not to run, that company was coming." Dean's voice resembled that of a parent upset with a child. "What were you thinking?"

He snapped the man's neck almost casually and then dropped him to the ground. Sniffing, he gave him a kick to get him out of the way and then looked up. The corners of his brother's eyes creased a little in amusement and if it wasn't for how his eyes swirled yellow, Sam would have thought it was Dean. Only Dean.

But that look was Azazel and just under it was Michael.

Where was his brother?

His brother's face looked upset. "Oh Sam. You look all lost without your brother. You need a hug? Come on, give us a hug." He reached out and Sam flinched back, causing the smirk to grow. Azazel used Dean's body with eerie similarity to how Dean would have, wiggling his fingers in the air. "Don't tell me you never wondered what it would be like for Dean to be on the receiving end for a change?" He laughed. "Of possession, of course."

"You took my brother. You didn't think I came here to chat, did you?"

"Do I look that stupid?" Azazel walked around him and leaned on the Impala. "You're here to make sure I don't kill hunters, right?"

He lifted a blood stained hand and studied his nails before he dropped it and rolled his eyes. "Because I have to tell you, you're not doing a very good job of that."

"You possessed my brother, you killed Nyx and took Kevin."

"Ah well. You might find that I didn't kill Nyx." At Sam's stunned look, Azazel shrugged. "You did. You and your brother. Just by getting attached to the little tyke. You know what Dean thought? In this little head of his?" He reached up and tapped his temple. "That he was responsible for her. Can you imagine? A hunter responsible for some freak like that. You and him, Sam, you get people killed."

Sam stared. "No."

"But onto business. I really wasn't looking for just you, Sam. Where's Meg?" Azazel looked around. With Dean's more youthful features, his demonic eyes seemed to glow brighter. "I hope she came. I'm sure my little birdies were seeing right when she drove up here with you and the angel to try to stop me from getting to those hunters."

"After everything you did…"

"I thought she'd be right here." Azazel ignored Sam and leaned back on the Impala. "All eager to try to get revenge for my having that bastard of hers killed."

Sam judged the distance between them and circled a little. Still suspicious, Azazel mirrored him and didn't seem to notice how exposed his back was.

Or so Sam thought.

"I assume someone is going to be sneaking up on me at some point?" Azazel asked, bored with his yellow eyes flicking over Sam. "The angel or the demon?"

"Dean, I know you can hear me."

"Oh enough." Azazel flicked his hand and sent Sam to his knees in crushing pain. "Did you really think you could just get me out of here? Your brother isn't you, Sammy. He always believed he wasn't special and guess what?" His voice lowered. "He wasn't."

Sam panted for breath. "Dean. Don't do this."

"Oh, Sam. Sam, Sam, Sammy." Azazel crouched down in front of him. "Your brother's in here, Sammy. Would you like to leave a message? I'll see that he gets it. "

---

His hands tracing over the rock, Kevin deciphered what he could of the tablet. It was enough that he'd been threatened by the demon, worse when now he had no purpose. God wouldn't be in his ear, whispering of everything he needed to do. He was alone.

He had memorized all of the tablets by now, easily figuring it out with what he had left in his head. But maybe there was something he missed. "I can do this, and maybe find a way of fixing this. Maybe he left a message behind."

What he had told Azazel, he thought, was almost useless. He had felt the demon's excitement about the spell he had read the very first time and knew he might be wrong about that. Azazel wanted him to figure out ways into the Lethe, and the keys had been in the demon tablet's footnotes. The words would be useless without the ingredients, Kevin hoped.

The van door swung open and he felt hard hands grab him by his shoulders. "Keep your head down and don't talk." Meg's voice was now a sound of beauty to him, and Kevin groped in his darkness for her.

"Meg. How'd you find me?"

"I smelled human blood, it was an easy guess." She roughly pulled him after her.

"Meg. I… I can't see."

The demon's fingers touched his temples and he could hear the snarl she gave. "So what? Get your ass out here with me."

He was jostled to the side and pulled through to the ground. Meg's one hand had him by his coat collar and was pulling him, ignoring his stumbles, and he made soft sounds of protest as he went, the pain in his head increasing with each step. Hearing the sound of voices, he started to drag his feet but Meg gave him another shove.

"Did…"

"Shut up and get in the car and don't make a sound," Meg's voice was behind him and he found himself propelled forward face first into what he thought was her car. "I mean it."

Kevin heard the door slam and in the face of her surly rescue tried not to feel like a lump of passed off meat. His fingers caught on something sticky and metallic that smelled of blood and he made a face.

"That better be animal blood."

---

Sam circled Azazel, keeping in time with the creature wearing his brother's face. With Dean's smirk, his face was somehow sinister because of the demon and he clenched Ruby's knife tighter.

"I won't let you take him."

"You already did." Azazel tapped his finger against his cheek. "It's a funny thing. Being inside of Dean. It is less used than you would be, I guess."

Sam swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

"Oh, that's right, Sam. I know everything. Every time you were possessed and sometimes it was because dear big brother just couldn't let you die, could he?"

The face creased into deeper lines as Dean's smirk widened and Azazel used it perfectly on the handsome face to seem at once menacing. For anyone else, running would have been an option. But all Sam could do was circle and pray to see some slice of his brother inside.

"You don't know everything."

"No?" He sucked in a deep, thoughtful breath. "I do know that I'm going to make sure every hunter is dead before the month is out. Dean's got a world of knowledge in this brain of his, of phone numbers, hiding spots, places of business, and they won't know what hit them."

Sam stopped moving. "No."

"I'll leave you though. Then there's the demons and Eve's little experiments. I'll stop her eventually, after she's done infecting them." He ran his hand over his chin. "Because the best part of my winning is you, Sam, and that pesky angel and Meg. Ultimately, I'll be out there winning when you're scrambling to get the nerve to kill me."

"I know you're in there, Dean," Sam whispered. "Come on, show me a sign."

"You think your brother is in here?" Azazel shuddered and his eyes became bright as they changed colour. "He doesn't deserve to see you."

"Let him go."

"We had a deal." Michael was using Dean now, Sam could tell by the slight inflection in his voice and the almost monotone hum that followed. "Don't make me go back on that, boy."

Sam betrayed Castiel by flicking his eyes to the side and the angel was caught mid-strike. Michael hauled him close. "Oh, baby brother." He almost spat in Castiel's face. "In the back?"

"Let Dean go. You took him under…" Castiel began.

"Doesn't matter. If I had been just an angel, maybe I would have cared but I'm something far worse than that, Castiel." Michael squeezed. "Far worse!"

He caught Sam's approach out of the corner of his eye and with a flick of his fingers sent him spiralling into the Impala, his body crunching against the metal.

"You left my brother to rot in a cage. You let her shut the gates and trap us all in here, in this miserable place! All because you went against what you were trained to do. Because you fell in love with that demon bitch!" Michael threw Castiel to the ground. "We could have been so much more but the Lethe is closed to us now. Without the proper links to it, it is useless! I'm useless!"

He began to slam his fist into Castiel's face again and again. Every-time Castiel's head rocked back from a blow, Michael would yank him upwards to meet the next crunching impact. There was something morbid about how willingly Castiel took the punishment.

"Why couldn't you have just died when you were supposed to!"

Beside the car, Meg palmed her angel sword and debated on a throw. All she had to do was get the right angle but with Castiel in the way she couldn't risk hitting him as well. He wasn't even fighting Michael the way he should have, as if worried that if he did something he would also hurt Dean, that it would set off Michael's rage so he attacked Sam again. Meg had to be the one to do something, she realized. So caught up in planning the logistics of a throw, she didn't see Dean's body moving until suddenly she was thrown to the ground.

Yellow eyes glared down at her instead of green. "You disappoint me, daughter."

"Seems to be a running theme," Meg gasped out, struggling to pull the fingers from her throat. Castiel was lying limp on the ground still. Azazel squeezed so she had to look at him.

"You slept with an angel, turned away from Lucifer and denied what I brought you up to be. You let the rest of your family down. So what kind of demon are you?" he asked as he used his other hand to smack her face repeatedly. Meg took it, trying to reach for her knife.

"Just a demon." She gave up on reaching as he hauled her close and breathed in her face.

"But for all of that, I can forgive it because you did bring something I can use," Azazel murmured and he lifted his own angel sword, laying it flat to her arm. Bending her arm uncomfortably, he fished into his pockets and pulled out a plastic flask before he began to slice. The blade cut a neat line at the vein and he heard her cry out. "Just a little experiment I'm concocting. Not too much yet. Just a little."

After all this time experiencing an angel blade's fire, Meg hadn't expected it to burn so much as Azazel bled her into a small vial. "Something your prophet helped me on. If this works, I'll be back for all of you, Meg."

He jerked her arm down and pulled her up to press a rough kiss to her mouth. "See you soon, sweetheart."

Meg spat out the taste of his mouth as he rose off of her and turned to Castiel.

"Make sure she keeps that blood in one place, Castiel. I'd hate to have to bleed her out in pieces."

The angel was straining to pick himself up from the ground, cradling his dislocated arm as it healed. On the pavement, Meg clenched her arm and stared in shock at where Azazel had been while her head spun. Behind them, Sam used the Impala to pull himself up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

"What do we do now?" Meg asked. Across from her, Castiel grabbed his sword and sheathed it again, looking at the path of destruction that had been lain. He reached down and helped her up, facing Sam as well. The hunter's eyes were haunted by what he had seen in his brother's body. He looked at them both, coming to some decision.

"We have to find a way to kill him," he said.

Castiel's head turned a little. "Sam, Dean is still in there."

"I know and I know what he would have me do if he couldn't regain control. He bargained for my life and I'm not going to let him suffer the way I had to before." Sam took in a long, deep breath. "I have to save his soul, if I can't save the rest of him."