Author's Note: You'll get to meet Cole this chapter, this is the OC I was talking about in the AN in the last chapter. She'll crop up from time to time, and I highly recommend that everyone check's out EarthhAngel's fanfic How to Save a Life which will introduce her more fully. In short, Cole is Bobby's daughter, and has been involved in the Winchester's lives for a long time on and off. I will be going back to add her into a couple of stories because she'll be guest starring in a few chapters from here on in. You can also see Dean and Beth feature in How to Save a Life – it's a great opportunity to get a 3rd person perspective on them, the story being written just a few months before they get together. Cole will feature in more detail next chapter.

This is one of my favourite episodes – I'm such an angel freak – I hope you enjoy it as much as I have loved writing it!

Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always some reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
oh beautiful release
memories seep from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

in the arms of the angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here

HOUSES OF THE HOLY

Psychiatric Ward
Providence, Rhoda Island

I stood looking in the small window to the room Gloria was in. She was seated quietly at the end of her bed, wearing a bathrobe, looking as sane as you can get with her long blonde hair brushed, falling straight down her back. She was peaceful, serene, reading from a book as the light of day peered through the barred window.

There was a little kick in my stomach and I smiled, running my hand over it. I was dressed in white scrubs. I thought I looked like an overstuffed marshmallow, but no one had even questioned it. I suppose nursing in general was so under staffed that no one seemed to question that a pregnant nurse would still be working at sixteen weeks into a pregnancy. Then again, maybe that was normal, it's not as if I'd had a normal life to compare it to, I just figured I'd keep going as long as I could, or as long as Dean would let me – whichever came first.

We'd been kind of quiet lately, not doing a lot, laying low since the last case which had brought Dean under a lot of scrutiny when a camera crew had caught him on film during the bank "robbery". I was still waiting for the right time to bring up what on earth we were going to do with a baby once it was born. Dean had gotten a little sullen since the encounter with the shapeshifter, and he was starting to wallow, I was quietly concerned at the change in attitude from him.

Setting all that aside, I took a deep breath and brought myself back to the present. Gloria. The door eased open without so much as a creak when I pushed it, stepping quietly into the room holding a clipboard in front of me. Gloria turned a serene face to me and smiled.

"Good morning, you're not the usual guy," she said, and I shook my head. For a start, I wasn't even a 'guy' but I wasn't going to go there, it wasn't important.

"No, I'm just filling in for today. So how are you feeling, Gloria?" I asked, throwing her a friendly smile.

"I've never felt better," Gloria said with a smile, and I believed her. There was a certain settled feeling around her, like she was connected to a higher calling, I used to be able to relate to that. Unlike Dean, I had felt like we were fulfilling some kind of a destiny in the work we did. These past six months however, I was starting to doubt my faith.

"So, no disturbances lately?" I asked, watching her face.

"You mean am I stark raving cuckoo for coco puffs?" Gloria asked with a smirk.

I smiled at her. "I didn't say that."

"It's all right. I know what people must think," Gloria reassured me, and again I believed her. She had the look of someone who was totally accepting of her fate and calling.

"What do you think?" I asked, curious to know what this woman thought of her current situation.

"I think what I saw was real," Gloria said simply. I paused to reflect on this. Most people when they saw something supernatural, tried to explain it away after a while, because the rest of the world just wrote them off as crazy. But not this woman, she was resolute in her surrender and understanding of what had happened to her. She was a believer.

I pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning forward toward her, I was so curious as to what she had said because I had always been a believer in angels, I still prayed to my guardian angel every night, the one that I shared with Dean, because he didn't believe. It was something that had happened the day we first met – I'd been eight years old, he was ten, and I told him I'd share my angel with him so that he'd have someone to protect him.

He still carried around my little guardian angel medallion, tied inside his hunter's journal, so I secretly hoped that he'd eventually come around – he was adamant that he wouldn't believe until an angel literally came up and tapped him on the shoulder. I suppose that was fair, Dean tended to be a more of a I'll believe it when I see it kind of person.

"I'd like to know what you saw," I said to her honestly, hoping that she could see the legitimacy in my request. I wanted to believe and understand.

"It was all over the news," Gloria said with a shrug. "I stabbed a man in the heart."

"Why would you do that?" I asked her with a concerned look.

"Because it was God's will," she said simply, her eyes were so sure, so completely certain that she was doing the work of the Lord.

"Did God talk to you?" I asked and she chuckled, a smile reaching her eyes.

"No. I get the sense God's a little busy for house calls. No, he, he sent someone." Her eyes glittered with a couple of tears, but it didn't seem as if it was from self-pity. It felt as if they were the tears of when you came into touch with something greater than yourself. I'd seen it before, people in ecstasy or rapture, certain they were connected to the Source, God, whatever you wanted to call it. She wasn't in rapture, but she was connected to something that put that look in her eyes.

"Someone?" I asked, pressing for information.

"An angel." She said with soft eyes. "It came to me in this beautiful white light, and it filled me with this feeling. It's, it's hard to describe..." she said, her voice trailing. She didn't need to, I understood, and I saw it in her eyes, in the unshed tears, the feeling of greater love.

"And this angel...?" I said, tilting my head to the side, wanting to know me.

"Spoke God's Word," Gloria said to me.

"And the Word was to kill someone?" I asked, surprised. Didn't sound quite right to me, but then, who knew what God's purpose was. I had to admit, while I believed in angels, God himself was a bit of an enigma. My mother had only ever taught me to believe in angels, and although my Dad was a minister, he'd never pushed a belief in God on me, only the values of doing good, being kind and loving your fellow humans.

"I know, it sounds strange. But what I did was very important. I helped him smite an evil man," she looked at me with conviction. "I was chosen. For redemption." She smiled when she said that, so sure of herself it was scary.

"This man you stabbed," I said carefully. "Did the angel give you his name?"

"No, he just told me to wait for the sign. And the very next day I saw it, right beside the man's doorway. And I knew." She shook her head.

"Why him?" I asked.

"I just know what the angel told me: that this man was guilty to his deepest foundations. And that was good enough for me."

I looked at her, contemplating all that she had told me. An angel of God telling humans to smite other humans. Well, it wasn't completely unheard of – the Bible was full of stories of God smiting the wicked. Why didn't it quite ring home for me then?

Motel Room

When I got to the motel room I opened the door to find Dean on the bed, it was vibrating and he was listening to music on the new phone I had set up for him. I'd downloaded all the greatest 80s rock on there and he was excited with about his new toy. John and Dean had never been one for using the latest technology, even I wasn't much for GPS units, but I loved my phone and all its music. Dean had also discovered the vibrating Magic Fingers attachment to the bed, and had been using it since we arrived.

I smiled, watching him, he was completely oblivious to the fact that I had opened the door. There was a screen that partially blocked the doorway – it had silhouetted tiles of a woman in a sexy pose staggered in line with blank spaces. I could see him through the empty spaces. Dean's face was blissed out as he vibrated away, letting the bed soothe, or perhaps excite, his tired muscles. I stepped around the screen and dropped my bag on the table nearby.

"Hey," I said to him, but he didn't hear me. I grinned and shrugged out of my jacket, it joined the bag. Dean's eyes were closed as he air drummed to the beat on his phone, and I chewed on my lip thoughtfully as I watched him. I slipped out of my shoes and walked over to the end of the bed, leaning down and running my hands in a long stroke from his ankles, up over his knees and across his thighs.

Dean jumped with a little shout, looking around furtively at the touch. Seeing me leaning over his legs at the end of the bed he relaxed, slumping back into the pillow, a grin on his face.

"Hey. You gotta try this. I mean there really is magic in the Magic Fingers." He said cheekily to me. I licked my lips, thinking about his own magic fingers and crawled forward until I was hovering over his chest. He ran his hands up over my hips and smiled at me, sitting up slightly to kiss me, lingering and gentle. I groaned, not liking how I was going to have burst his bubble and get all serious on him.

I pulled away and slipped off the bed, crossing the room to slide the chain on the door. Dean looked surprised at me, but then he nodded with a grin, pulling the earphones out of his ears and tossing his phone on to Sam's bed.

"I like where your head is at," he said with a smile.

"Can we talk?" I asked, biting my lip and looking back at him. The smile fell from Dean's face, quickly replaced by a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting up and forgetting about the vibrating bed underneath him.

"Nothing," I said, all sorts of thoughts running through my head. How to start this conversation? I sighed. Just start it, however!

"Doesn't look like nothing," Dean commented, his expression remaining unchanged. He waved me over and sat back on the bed, waiting for me to join him. I dragged my feet a little, but eventually made it to the bed, climbing on with him. He guided me in against his chest and I lay my head over his heart, listening to the steady thumping under my ear.

"Spill," he ordered and I took a deep breath.

"Just thinking about the whole shifter thing and you being on lock-down because of it." I said quietly, not really sure where I was going with it. The bed was still vibrating under us, working it's magic, and I started to get distracted by the proximity of Dean's body, his firm hard abs under my hand. I pulled my hand away as if I had been holding it against hot coals, trying to gather my thoughts. "We've never had to lay this low before..." I said.

"Mhmm?" Dean murmured into my hair, softly running his hand along my arm causing goosebumps to stand up. I groaned inwardly, and then looked up to kiss him on the lips.

"Well," I started again, "this might be something we have to do permanently soon..." I commented, sighing softly as Dean's mouth brushed along my collarbone, he was distracted, tugging at the neckline of the shirt I was wearing, trying to get at more skin.

"What do you mean?" He asked, and I blinked finding it hard to focus on the question. My hand was resting over his abs again. Almost unconsciously I found my hand slide its way under his shirt, brushing against his skin, eliciting a short gasp from him. With the intake of breath I leaned up to look at him.

"We need to talk..." I said, my words cut short as his lips claimed mine in a hungry kiss. He pushed me down against the mattress, leaning over me as his tongue met mine in a slow, lingering tango.

"You said that already," he said a little breathlessly, pulling away to look into my eyes. My whole body was alert with the vibrations underneath me heightening all my senses. I took a breath and bit my lip to try and focus my attention back on the conversation.

"About the baby." I said to him, and he subconsciously reached down to brush his hand over my stomach, a tiny smile reaching his eyes. His tantalising strokes grew a little firmer, less teasing and more in the region of tender massage. I swallowed, looking into his eyes. The bed came to a shuddering halt, bringing me back to my senses.

"What are we going to do when it's born?" I asked, scared to think about the answer, what it might mean for us. Would we give up hunting? How could we not? How would Dean cope with a decision like that? Would he make that decision? Or would he leave me with the baby and go off into danger without me?

"Hey," he said, seeing the conflict in my eyes, his own eyes softening and showing unabashed love for me. "Hey..." he whispered, kissing my eyes as tears welled up in them. "Don't worry, ok? Don't cry, I promise you we'll figure it out," he said gently. I nodded silently, not trusting my voice.

I gnawed on my lower lip, these thoughts running like a freight train through my mind. Dean watched silently, concern in his eyes. For what seemed an eternity we just looked at each other, and I fed him all my fears in that look, all my secret terrors that maybe this was just too much of a change in our lives for us to cope with.

Dean pulled back and I startled, feeling as if he was retreating from me, and I knew, I knew that I'd finally done it, I'd finally pushed him so far that he was going to leave me. I turned my head to the side and let out a shuddering sob. Instead of moving away, he lay next to me, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"I would never leave you," he said to me as if he'd read my mind. I stared at him. I wanted to believe it, but something in my head was screaming at me, of course he'll leave you, everyone else in your life did when it got too hard to be around you! He frowned when I didn't answer him, fresh tears coming into my eyes. "Beth," he said firmly, looking at me, catching my gaze with his own. He watched me, sliding his hand under my shirt and pushing it up to bare my stomach.

Quietly, slowly he brought his lips down to kiss it, to nuzzle the skin, I drew in a shaky breath, watching him as he revealed a side I'd never seen before. He lay his head against my stomach, against the child that was ours, and he looked up at me. "I would never leave you," he repeated quietly and this time I saw the truth there, the promise. I nodded through tears at him, reaching down to touch his face, smiling.

"We'll figure it out ok?" He said finally, I nodded again, closing my eyes with relief and taking a deep breath.

Seeing me relax, Dean pulled up and slid in next to me once more, kissing along my collarbone like he had before. He held up an almost empty roll of quarters and raised his eyebrows, I laughed at him, he was such a big kid. Just like that he had moved from vulnerable and comforting to frisky and incorrigible. Without waiting for a yea or nay, he rolled over to put a few quarters in the coin slot of the bed, it kicked in again, vibrating away.

Dean rolled back to slide his hand around my waist, pulling me into him and kissing along my neck. I groaned, letting the magic of the bed melt away the tension in my body, letting my fears fall from my mind, I was here with Dean and I pulled myself back into the moment. I smiled, feeling completely and utterly turned on by the circling hand at the small of my back.

"So, who has the better magic fingers? You or the bed?" I asked huskily and he chuckled into my neck, nipping at my earlobe a second later. He took the directive well, and I shivered as he pulled at the elastic waist of my pants, slipping his hand in between my legs.

"Hmmm, let's find out?" He said with a little grin. A hot flush ran the length of my body as he touched my centre, moving easily and knowingly to where I liked it most. He teased me through the cotton of my panties until I was growling at him, almost panting from the electric feeling he was sending through me.

"Dean..." I groaned at him, nuzzling his neck and rocking against his hand. He looked innocently at me, raising an eyebrow and I narrowed my eyes at him. With a cheeky grin he plunged his finger behind the fabric, sliding it in against me. I gasped, losing my breath at the sudden shockwave I was riding. He deftly explored me, circling, teasing before stroking in just the right place, over and over until I threw my head back in urgency, moaning and gasping at the same time.

I felt the familiar sensation of warmth start to wash over me and I clutched at his arm, my nails digging in, letting him know without so many words just how close I was. He changed the angle with his finger, drawing it out, slower and I nearly cried it was so agonising.

"Jesus Christ Dean!" I managed to get out, groaning and holding my breath. He chuckled and then resumed his ministrations, bringing me to that heightened state again. I clung to him, riding the wave as he brought me over the edge, gasping for breath, shuddering with pleasure.

When I stopped moving he slipped his hand back out of my pants and pulled me in close, kissing lazily along my jawline to my lips, brushing soft lips across mine. I smiled into the kiss, and parted his lips with my tongue, exploring him, drinking from him. Our lips locked in a heated exchange, and he let out a guttural moan pulling me toward him, sliding my leg between his to rub against his groin.

The door slammed open at that moment, the chain catching and there was a curse from Sam on the other side. We startled apart, almost guiltily, like we'd done on more than one account in the past, especially with John around.

"Oh come on guys!" Sam said exasperated, I looked over to see his hand gesturing rudely to us through the small gap the chain allowed.

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes, but let me pull away and get up from the bed. I straightened out my pants as I walked over and unchained the door. Once he could get in I rushed back and crawled on to the vibrating bed with Dean, looking back at Sam with a smirk.

"Hey man, you gotta try this!" Dean said, repeating his earlier spiel that he'd used on me. "There really is magic in the Magic Fingers!" He said with a grin. Sam just looked at us, face serious, appraising the fact that we were both sprawled out on a vibrating bed, fully clothed thankfully, with an empty roll of quarters next to the coin slot.

"You guys are enjoying that bed way too much, it's kind of making me uncomfortable," Sam said to us, and he really did look like he meant it. I shook my head and looked up at him.

"Well you think this is uncomfortable... good thing you weren't here a little while..." Dean grunted and stopped talking when I elbowed him in the ribs, throwing him a warning look. Seriously, he had no tact at all.

Sam crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't want to know, jeez!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I mean, you've both got me on lock-down here, I'm bored out of my skull!" Dean said, looking from Sam to me. He was right, Dean never had been one for lying around and doing nothing for days on end.

"Hey, you were the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, not me. We can't risk you just walking into a government facility," Sam said. I nodded, he was right on that one.

"Hmmm," Dean frowned, a little unhappy. Sam waved a hand dismissively at us and turned to go into the bathroom. There was a rumbling sound as the bed shuddered to stillness, Dean groaned.

"Awww dammit! That was my last quarter," he said sadly to me. He looked over at Sam. "Hey! You got any quarters?" He asked hopefully. Sam was in the bathroom washing his face, we could just see him from the bed through the bathroom door.

"No!" Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Dean planted a kiss on my cheek and smiled at me. "We're gonna finish that other... conversation...later?" He said, almost a question more than a request. I grinned and ran my hand up his inner thigh.

"You can count on it," I grinned at him wickedly. His eyes watched me, hungrily, before he groaned softly and climbed off the bed, heading for the mini bar.

"So did you get in to see that crazy hooker?" Dean asked me, now that all his fun was over.

I sat up on the bed, nodding. "Yeah, Gloria Sitnick. And I'm not so sure she's crazy," I said, thinking about the sincerity on her face.

"She seriously believes she was touched by an angel?" Dean asked sceptically, looking over at me while he opened a beer and took a sip.

"Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works." I said, getting up and putting the kettle on. "I mean, she's living in a locked ward, and she's totally at peace." It was disturbingly peaceful.

"Oh yeah, you're right, that sounds completely sane. What about the dude she stabbed?" Dean said, his forehead furrowing in thought.

"Uh, Carl Gully. She said she killed him because he was evil," I said, looking up as Sam came out of the bathroom.

"Was he?" Sam asked, a curious look on his face.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "I couldn't find any dirt on him. Didn't have a criminal record, worked over at the campus library, had lots of friends... churchgoer." He sounded like your regular run of the mill person, normal, sane and as non-evil as you could get.

"Hm," Dean said thoughtfully. "So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?"

"No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little odd, don't you think?" Sam asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Well, odd yes, supernatural maybe. But angels? I don't think so," Dean smirked, shaking his head as he took another sip of his beer.

"Why not?" I asked, and Dean paused to roll his eyes at me.

"Look, Beth, I know you believe in these things," Dean said carefully, gauging just how fragile I was, how hormonal. "But there's no such thing," he said when he saw I was pretty level-headed right now.

"Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels than there is about anything else we've ever hunted!" I said, exasperated. This wasn't the first time we'd had this discussion.

"Yeah, you know what? There's a tonne of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they, they ride on silver moonbeams and shoot rainbows out of their ass." He said said with a semi-serious look. "Doesn't make them real."

Sam sat down on the bed, looking shocked. "Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?" He asked and I grinned at the deadpan expression. Classic!

"That's cute," Dean smirked at him. "I'm just saying man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under 'bullcrap'," he finished, shaking his head. I looked at him hardly believing my ears, because I just couldn't get where he was coming from, at all.

"And you've got angels on the bullcrap list?" I asked incredulously, shaking my head with a smile.

"Yep," Dean said with a nod.

"Why?" Sam asked, I almost rolled my eyes, I'd had this conversation with Dean before so I already knew the answer.

"Because I've never seen one," Dean answered, finishing off the rest of his beer and tossing the can in the sink.

"So what?" Sam asked, shrugging and looking at Dean. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching his brother with guarded eyes. Sam and I were more on the faithful side when it came to angels and things we couldn't explain.

"So, I believe in what I can see," Dean said simply, shrugging.

"Dean! We have all seen things that most people couldn't even dream about!" I said, shaking my head. I had no idea why I was allowing myself to get pulled back into this debate, it always ended the same way.

"Exactly," Dean said, pointing at me. "With our own eyes, that's hard proof, ok? But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them?" I frowned at him and held up my hand.

"My mom believed in them, she said they spoke to her." I said, challenging him.

Dean sighed and looked at me, he was conflicted because he really wanted to just call my mother a crackpot and be done with it, but he also knew it was a touchy subject.

"Babe, I know your mom thought she talked to angels, but do we really know that for sure? I mean, you were really young when she died. You pray to them every day, have they ever talked back to you?" He said it gently, crossing over to touch my arm as he said it. I could see the concern that I was going to have a pregnant moment and melt down showing in his eyes.

"No," I said quietly with a sigh, looking up at him and biting my lip. He had me there, and I wasn't too proud to admit it.

He kissed me on the forehead, then looked over at Sam. "This is a demon, or a spirit, you know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms."

"Maybe," Sam conceded, his face didn't look happy about it though. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Can we just – I'm going stir-crazy here guys. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?" He said, changing the subject.

"I was just there," Sam said. "Nothing. No sulphur, no EMF..."

"You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?" Dean asked sarcastically. Sam glared at him.

"Well Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign," I said, interrupting. "Right beside Carl Gully's doorway."

Dean looked at me eagerly, excited at the prospect of getting out of the motel room, his eyes were practically screaming at me to get him out of here. "Could be something at his house, worth checking out," he said, keen as mustard to go see. I grinned.

"Yeah, you're right, Sam and I'll check it out," I teased him. Dean's face fell and he stared at me.

"I'm kidding!" I said with a light punch to his rock hard chest. "Come on, get your jacket," I winked at him and he practically melted he was so happy to get out for a change.

Carl Gully's House

Dean was driving, eager to get behind the wheel again. He pulled the car around the corner and parked in front of Carl's house. It was a standard, single-family home with steps that led up to the front door. There was a tacky angel mounted outside the door, and lights shining around. It was a week before Christmas, snow was everywhere. The footpath leading up to the house had been shovelled by some well meaning neighbour.

We stepped out of the car, heading up to the house.

"Oh hey, I think I found it. It's a sign from up above," Dean said, looking at the angel. He peered in the window, finding nothing. "Well I think I learned a valuable lesson: don't buy tacky angel decorations or you might get filleted by a hooker from God. Ha." He smirked at me but I didn't find it very funny, frowning at him.

"I'm laughing on the inside," I said to him, shaking my head.

Dean shifted a little uncomfortably under my gaze before coming over to stand behind me, slipping his hands around my waist and holding my stomach. I felt the baby kick and I grinned. "Here," I said, moving his hand. "You feel that?" Dean nodded, always a little awestruck whenever it happened, and it had been happening a lot more regularly lately. Dean held me against him with a happy sigh.

"Sorry," he said into my hair as Sam wandered around the back, looking for anything interesting.

"What for?" I asked, turning my face to the side, I could just see him out of the periphery of my vision.

"For making fun of the whole angel thing," he said quietly. I smiled at him.

"It's ok Dean, one day you'll figure it out," I said with a raised eyebrow, kissing him on the cheek. He chuckled, like he always did when I was telling him something I believed, and yet couldn't prove.

"Well, I hope so," he said, looking up as Sam called out to us. He pulled away and went to look over the side of the porch railing at Sam who was standing ankle-deep in snow near the side of the house. "What you got?" He asked his brother.

"Storm cellar entrance," Sam said, looking back at us. I frowned, curious.

"Well, Gloria said the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations," I said, almost directly quoting her. Sam tossed me contemplative look, a frown creasing his brow.

"You think she literally meant the foundation?" He asked. I shrugged. Dean looked curious and nodded.

"Let's find out," he said, jumping the railing and landing in the snow. I shook my head and chuckled, that would have been funny if he'd hit a patch of ice. I took the stairs, like a normal human being, especially one that was pregnant. By the time I reached them a few minutes later, they had the doors to the cellar open and Sam was leading the way down the dimly lit stairs. We all had flash-lights tucked into our jackets, the mandatory tool for snooping around people's homes in the dark, and we got them out now.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs, biting my lip. Low ceiling, dark, dank. Just the kind of place I didn't like going into. Dean tossed me a look that questioned if I was ok, and I fought off the panic attack that was threatening to take over me, breathing in deeply through my nose and then out through my mouth. I followed them in, no way was I letting them see my fear get the better of me, especially not now I was pregnant.

It was a typical cellar, dug out of the cold earth and lined interchangeably with stone wall or wooden paling. It was very reminiscent of the basement Dean had been in at when he'd come to rescue Sam and I from a pack of psychopaths who wanted to hunt us. Who hunted humans? It was insane! I forced back a shudder when I saw canned goods on the shelf; in the psycho house that had been human organs – here is just looked like tomatoes or something else gone wrong.

"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully, looking around.

Sam had moved across to another wall and was looking at something on the floor. "Hey," he said, drawing our attention to him.

"You got something?" Dean asked, stepping in gaze at whatever it was Sam was looking at. Sam dug around with his fingers at the wall, and pulled something out near what looked like finger prints.

"What is it?" I asked, squinting and trying to see in the dark.

"Looks like a fingernail," Sam said, shocked. Dean looked startled, and then frowned. Standing up they both grabbed a shovel from a stack of tools leaning against the wall. Taking a wild stab in the dark they started to dig near where the fingernail had been. Half an hour later we were looking at a deep pit, at least three skeletons were lying in the dirt.

"So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian," Sam said, shining his light along the length of the skeleton.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I'll give you that," he said, looking up at me. I nodded, well that was something at least. If it wasn't an angel, it was someone or something that knew about these dead bodies buried underneath Carl's house.

Motel Room
Next Day

I came into the motel room carrying a pizza and six-pack of beer. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, police radio in hand and staring forlornly at the Magic Fingers controller. I gave him a sympathetic look and placed the beer and pizza down on the table.

"I'm so bored!" Dean said with a grimace. "Did you bring quarters?" He asked hopefully, and I shook my head.

"Sorry, I forgot... baby brain!" He looked disappointed so I crossed over and stood in front of him. He rested his chin on my bulging belly and turned his hazel eyes up to look at me with a sad sigh. I brushed a hand through his short brown hair, smiling and allowed myself to be pulled sideways into his lap; Dean wrapped his arms around me holding me tight.

"Well, least you brought pizza!" He said with a smile and I laughed.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, looking around and finding that we were alone.

"Oh, he went to the library where what's-his-face worked," Dean replied, absently running his hand along my forearm.

I looked at him, raising my eyebrow. "You want to eat, or finish that conversation from yesterday?" I asked with a cheeky grin. He chuckled and in a second I found myself on the bed, Dean peering down at me.

"What do you think?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

The door opened and Sam stalked into the room carrying sandwiches. Apparently he'd also had the same idea while out – food. But his was a slightly more healthier version than mine. He rolled his eyes at us and tossed the sandwiches on the table with the pizza and beer. He took a beer and opened it, draining half of it in one go.

"Did you bring quarters?" Dean asked with his one-track mind, still hovering over my body now pinned to the mattress.

Sam frowned at the Magic Fingers controller and the grimaced. "Dude I'm not enabling your sick habit! You're like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies."

Dean kissed me quickly and then stood up to turn a frown toward Sam. He walked over to the table, opening the pizza box and picking up a piece of tangy meat lovers, taking a bite and chewing loudly in front of Sam. He swallowed and gave Sam a haughty look.

"What are you talking about? I eat!" He said with a grin, Sam just shook his head and said nothing. "And I got news," Dean added, looking first at Sam and then at me.

"Me too," Sam said, taking another drink of beer.

"All right, you go first," Dean said with a nod, placing a piece of pizza on a plate and bringing it over for me. He sat next to me, munching contentedly on his own while looking expectantly at Sam.

"Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year. All of them were last seen at the library," Sam announced, and I frowned, thinking about the skeletons we'd found.

"Where Carl Gully worked," I said out loud, still frowning.

"Yep," Sam confirmed with a nod.

"Sick bastard," Dean muttered, looking at his pizza, momentarily put off by his food. It didn't last long, he shrugged after a couple of seconds and took another bite.

Sam spoke again. "So Gloria's angel..."

"Angel?" Dean asked, mouth full of food, raising his eyebrow.

"OK. Whatever this thing is..." Sam conceded, finishing with no idea of what to say.

"It's struck again," Dean said, and I looked over at him. He hadn't mentioned this.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I was listening to the police radio before you got back; there was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk... he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart." Dean said, looking from me to Sam.

"And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?" Sam asked, taking another sip of his beer.

"Yep. Roma Downey made him do it," Dean said. I grimaced. Clearly he had been on lock-down too long, he was starting to watch daytime TV about angels. Dean stood up and crossed to the mirror where he had stuck a post-it note. He pulled it off and held it up.

"Now, I uh... I got the victim's address," he said with a smirk, waving it in the air. I looked over at him, in all his bravado and cockiness, shaking my head. He was a bit of an enigma sometimes Dean, soft one moment, hard the next – often hard in more ways than one I thought ruefully with a smile. My heart was cheerful just to look at him, and he was looking excitedly at us, seeing the chance to get out of the motel room again. He was practically giddy with anticipation.

Victim's House

While it wasn't easy in my current state to climb over fences, it wasn't impossible either. I was still pretty nimble and fit, it was just a matter of negotiating the ever-growing belly. Fortunately it wasn't that big yet, I had a moment to give thanks for the fact that I was in really great shape before I got pregnant, and was still holding a lot of that now. I climbed up on the dumpster by the trellis topped fence and waited for the boys to jump down first, then I swung my legs one at a time over the fence, supporting my weight by my arms only. Dean reached up and grabbed my hips, helping lower me to the ground. See? Easy!

Sam was at a window, using a knife to jiggle the lock. The snib moved from his manipulations and just like that, we had access to the victim's house. We crawled through the window and looked around the dimly lit house. It was winter, no lights were on and the sun was hiding its face behind a blanket of cloud cover. Sam found his way to a computer and sat down, while Dean and I were left with the task of searching the house.

I had finished with the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom, and came back down the stairs, watching my step as they were narrow and carpeted, the perfect combination to slip down.

"Find anything?" Sam asked me as I walked up behind Dean, who was standing next to the desk flipping through a catalogue. I shook my head, glancing at the catalogue.

"Well, Frank liked his catalogue shopping, but that's about all I got," Dean chimed in.

"Not much here," Sam said, looking at the computer screen. "Except he's got this one locked file on his computer, I can't... hold on." He frowned, looking intently at the screen, then pushed a few more buttons before smiling in victoriously. "Not any more!" Sam said as he was granted access, clicking on the file and staring. His face fell into a frown. "God."

"What?" I asked, watching his face.

"Well, he's got all these emails. Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer..." he paused for a second and then looked up at us, anger in his eyes. "This lady who is thirteen years old."

"Oh I don't want to hear this," Dean muttered, looking up from his catalogues.

"Looks like they met in a chat room. These emails are pretty personal. Look at that," he pointed to the screen. I moved to read over his shoulder, grimacing at what I saw.

"Setting up a time and place to meet..." I said with a sigh.

"Great," Dean muttered, shaking his head.

"They were supposed to meet today," I said, reading the email further.

"Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, that's good timing." Dean said thoughtfully, his handsome features starting to furrow into a frown. "I don't know, this is weird, you know? I mean, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like a..."

"Avenging angel?" I said, raising an eyebrow at him. Dean turned away shaking his head.

"Well how else do you explain it Dean?" Sam asked. Dean threw his hand up in the air, still stubbornly in denial. "Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs!"

I nodded at Sam, in complete agreement. "I bet if you dig deep enough on the other guy you'll find..."

"Hey," Dean interrupted me, picking something up. I glanced at him, annoyed that he'd just cut me off and broken my train of thought. I crossed my arms and glared at him, not really putting a whole lot of conviction behind the glare. This was a face paced job, cutting each other off to get to the next point wasn't exactly rare.

"What?" I asked.

"You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer right?" He asked, turning back to us. His eyes were shining with excitement.

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, shrugging because he didn't see where Dean was going with the question.

"What was the name of his church?" Dean asked.

"Uh, Our Lady of the Angels, why?" I said, eyeing him off carefully. Dean smirked and looked over at me.

"Of course that'd be the name..." he said, holding up a flyer. "Looks like Frank went to the same church."

I raised an eyebrow at him and shook my head. Well it was a better lead than what we'd had so far, at least it was a connection between victims.

Our Lady of the Angels Church

Our Lady of the Angels was a large stone building set in the heart of the city. It was surrounded by a concrete jungle, a couple of trees planted out the front, but everywhere else was grey and dreary. It sat on the corner of a busy intersection, cars coming and going constantly creating a steady stream of noise which broke up any semblance of peace in a holy place.

As we approached the steps Dean slipped the silver ring off his right hand and slid it on to my left hand ring finger. I nearly died on the spot, just staring at the ring, trying to wipe off all the conflicting emotions rising up within me. If I looked up he would read them in my face, so I kept my head bowed.

"Best look the part," he explained and I nodded carefully, plastering an amused expression to my face and raising my eyebrow as I looked at him. "This isn't a proposal," he added uncomfortably. I nodded again and rolled my eyes at him, trying to seem casual about the whole thing when the little girl inside of me was squealing with joy. I knew it was probably never going to happen, Dean was hardly the marrying type, but there was still a little schoolgirl inside of me who secretly hoped that it might one day.

Father Reynolds looked at us appraisingly when we entered the church, playing the happily married couple expecting their first child, Sam had stayed behind to do some research. Privately I reckoned he was trying out the Magic Fingers.

"So you're interested in joining the parish?" Father Reynolds asked, looking happily at us as he showed us the large sanctuary. Two rows of seats flanked the walls and we were surrounded by stained glass windows, one of my favourite things about churches.

"Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday," Dean said with a smile, sliding his arm around my waist.

"Where'd you say you lived before?" Father Reynolds asked.

"Uh..." Dean hesitated, looking down at me, and I saw him freeze at the question.

"Fremont, Texas," I answered for him, smiling.

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

Father Reynolds looked delighted at our answer, smiling and nodding before us. "Really? That's a nice town. St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there." He said, it was my turn to freeze, shit, didn't think he'd actually know the parish!

"Sure, yeah, it's uh, Father O'Malley," Dean said, using my father's name. I hadn't actually said the name in so long, I had all different aliases for every day use that it sounded almost alien to my ears. Most people just called me by Winchester, and none of us ever corrected them, it was too hard to explain, and after all, they just assumed I was John's daughter so should have his name too.

"Hmmm, I know a Father Shaughnessy," the man in front of us said with a frown.

"Yeah, sure, Shaughnessy... he was there too, wasn't he hon?" Dean said looking at me.

I nodded and smiled at the priest. "We're just happy to be here now, Father," I said, changing the subject.

"And we're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here," he said, looking down at my stomach and smiling happily.

"Hey, listen, I gotta ask – no offense, but uh, the neighbourhood?" Dean led the man with a question, trying to get some information about the murders.

"Well it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that," Father Reynolds looked sadly at us. "But that's why what the church does here is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off."

"Huh," Dean said. "Yeah we heard about the murders," he prompted, hoping the Father was chatty.

"Yes, the victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years," he said somberly.

"And the killers said that an angel made them do that?" I asked, trying to put a level of disbelief into my voice.

Father Reynolds looked disgusted, shaking his head. "Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder," he said.

"So you don't believe in those angel yarns?" Dean asked, looking down at me smugly.

"Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description," Father Reynolds said, pointing to his priest's collar. I pinched Dean lightly on the arm, this time sending him the smug look.

There was a picture on the wall, one that I recognised from many different churches, so many years of prayer to angels.

"Father, that's Michael, right?" I asked, pointing to the painting. It depicted a fierce angel with a flaming sword, pinning Lucifer to the ground in an epic battle of good versus evil.

"That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons, holy force against evil," the Father said to me with a nod.

"So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant?" I asked. I kind of already knew the answer to this, but I needed to hear his take on it, to see if maybe there was a connection to what was happening here in his parish.

"Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful; but yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors." He nodded, looking at us. "'An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified.'" He quoted from the Bible.

Dean looked confused and glanced over at me. "Luke. 2:9" I said to him, contemplating. Dean rolled his eyes at me when the Father wasn't looking.

Father Reynolds saw us out to the front of the church when we were done with our tour.

"Well, thank you for speaking with us Father," I said to him with a smile.

"Oh it's my pleasure. Hope to see you both again," he said genuinely. I looked at him, saddened, he was truly a lovely man and wanted to good in the world, too bad it was going to shit all around him.

Dean spotted a collection of tribute items at the bottom of the steps, I followed his gaze seeing candles, flowers, a cross. "Hey Father, what is all that for?" Dean asked, pointing to the make shift altar.

"Oh that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here," Father Reynolds said, looking at the candles.

"Was?" Dean asked, curious.

"He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt," the Father explained to us.

"When did this happen?" Dean asked, exchanging a look with me.

"Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys." Father Reynolds said sadly, fighting back emotions that were welling behind his eyes. He struggled to get the words out, clearly still grieving.

"Oh, how sad. I'm so sorry," I said to him, gazing at the candles.

"Yeah, me too. He was a good friend." Father Reynolds said quietly. "I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighbourhood. Even since he died I've been praying my heart out."

"For what?" I asked curiously.

"For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose." He looked at us. Dean and I exchanged another thoughtful look.

"Well Padre, thanks. We'll see you again," Dean said to the priest and he nodded, returning inside. Dean loitered near the altar until he was gone and then he looked through the candles. There was a photo of Father Gregory there, and he picked it up, showing me.

"Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there." I shifted uncomfortably, I had much preferred the idea of an angel out doing good in the world.

Motel Room

We'd returned to the motel and were filling Sam in on what our newest theory was.

"And he knew all the other stiffs, because they went to church here, in fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew." Dean was saying as he paced the room, pulling things together in the way only he could. He was a genius when it came to making connections like this, getting it from John. He might put himself down a lot, but at the end of the day, Dean was smarter than either me or Sam.

"Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time this started happening?" Sam asked, and I nodded at him. I so wanted to believe it was an angel, and Sam did too – he was always more of a believer than Dean.

Dean paused and looked over at Sam, a frustrated look on his face. "Aw, come on man, what's your deal?" He asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.

"Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a sceptic," he said. I snorted at that. A bit? "But since when are you all Mr. 700 club?" Dean asked looking at Sam who chewed on his lower lip, giving Dean the don't piss me off look he was known for.

"No seriously," Dean said, looking at us. "From the get-go you've been willing to buy this angel crap man. I mean what's next, are you going to start praying with Beth every day?" Dean asked. I frowned, crossing my arms and shaking my head.

"I do," Sam said quietly.

Dean looked at him shocked. "What?"

"I do pray, every day. I have for a long time," Sam said to Dean, then glanced over at me. I smiled, I had kind of suspected. He didn't do it the same way as me, Sam was a more "sit down and have a conversation with thin air" praying type. I had been raised by my mother to use candles, and my rosary, and to ask for the intervention of angels – not so much God.

Startled, Dean found himself a little speechless, falling silent. He shook his head and looked over at me. "The things you learn about a guy. Huh," he said with a contemplative look.

"So now we have to go check out Father Gregory's grave?" I asked, thinking about our next move.

"You've got it sugarpie." Dean said with a nod.

Church Crypt

The crypt was like a maze with so many different stone hallways leading off each other, many of them coming to dead ends. Dean and I led the way, I was lingering near him because I felt a little creeped out being down here, but I didn't want to admit it. Sam trailed behind us.

There were a lot of pillars with angelic statues on them, the cute cherub angels with dimpled bodies and feathered wings. Dean wandered further into the crypt and I looked around.

"Where's Sam?" I asked, seeing that we were now alone. Dean frowned and crossed back into the other room, pushing open the door we'd come through.

"Sam, come on, get the..." Dean's voice stopped and I saw in his stance that he was instantly alert and worried. "Sammy?!" Dean rushed forward and I ran back to meet him. Sam was laying on the floor, flat on his back.

"Sammy? Sammy! Hey!" Dean said, shaking our brother. Sam jerked awake and groaned.

"You ok?" I asked, crouching down in front of him with Dean.

Sam stared beyond the pair of us and I turned to see what he was looking at. There was a large angel statue with huge wings standing over us. "Yeah." Sam said, nodding at us. He looked up at the angel standing at his feet and he smiled. "Yeah I'm ok."

Dean reached down and helped him to his feet, guiding him back into the sanctuary, looking for somewhere we could sit.

Sam's eyes were dilated and glazed over a little as we led him beside us, he looked completely peaceful and happy. I stared at him, my mind in overdrive.

"You saw it, didn't you?" I asked, feeling my heart skip a beat at the idea.

Sam nodded excitedly at me. "Yeah. Yeah. Beth, I saw an angel!" He gripped my arm like a kid on Christmas morning and beamed. He sat down in a pew next to us and Dean pulled a flask out of his inner jacket pocket. He unscrewed the top and handed the flask to Sam.

"I don't want a drink," Sam said, waving it away.

Dean shrugged and took a long swig out of the flask himself before resealing it and putting it back in his jacket. "So," he said carefully, looking down at Sam. "What makes you think you saw an... uh.. angel?"

Sam smiled, his eyes glittering with love and joy. "It just... it appeared before me and I just... this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace." I watched him closely, Sam had the same expression in his eyes like Gloria had, he was devout, sure in what he had seen.

"OK, Ecstasy Boy, maybe we'll get you some glowsticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?" Dean smirked, not believing a word of it.

"Dean I'm serious!" Sam said, leaning forward and staring at his brother. "It spoke to me. It knew who I was."

"It's just a spirit, Sam. OK? And it's not the first one to be able to read people's minds," Dean said, sitting down in another pew and turning a concerned look toward him. "Let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner, you've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam said calmly.

"Great..." Dean muttered, shaking his head. "I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?"

Sam looked at Dean and smiled. "Actually I did Dean, and the angel told me, he hasn't done anything." I frowned when I heard that. Sam continued when he saw Dean's look mirror my own. "Yet! But he will," Sam said, resolutely.

"Oh Sam, I don't know..." I muttered, chewing at my lip.

"I don't believe this!" Dean said getting out of the pew and starting to pace between us.

"Dean, the angel has been wrong yet! Someone's going to do something awful, and I can stop it!" There is was, the self-sacrificing, need to save a life Sammy Winchester who was struggling so hard against his inner demons, that he was willing to sacrifice his humanity to prove himself sometimes.

Dean stopped pacing and looked back at Sam. "You know, you're supposed to be bad too, maybe... maybe I should just stop you right now?" He said, his face had an incredulous look on it.

"You know what Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility?" Sam asked, his words breaking off as he looked at his brother, tears of frustration in his eyes.

"What? That this is an angel?" Dean asked, eyes flashing with anger.

"Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop! Maybe this is God's will!" Sam looked at me imploringly, but I was starting to feel really uncomfortable with the direction this discussion was taking. I wasn't so sure how comfortable I felt about an angel running around telling people to kill, even if it was to kill evil people.

Dean started to pace again, shaking his head. "OK, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's..." he looked over at Sam, his eyes softening. "Hey, good for you Sammy. I'm sure it makes things easier – it does for Beth." He glanced at me before sitting down again.

He hesitated, looking at Sam. "I'll tell you who else had faith like that – Mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me." My heart went out to him. His voice was short and matter-of-fact, and hid a moment of weakness. He didn't want it to show. No wonder he struggled so much. While my mother's faith had only bolstered my spirit and got me through her death, Dean had been half the age I was when my mom died, and obviously it had totally shattered his.

Sam looked shocked and I looked at him sadly. "Oh Dean..." I said, watching him with a sad expression.

"You never told me that," Sam said, tears in his eyes.

"Well, what's to tell? She was wrong." Dean said quietly, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds." He took a breath, a smile of irony touching his face. "You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. You got any?" Sam looked away, remaining silent.

Dean took a breath and then continued. "Well I do... proof that we're dealing with a spirit." I looked at him curiously, wondering what he had.

Father Gregory's tombstone was beautiful white marble, and it was covered by a creeping vine. Dean and Sam were crouched in front of it, investigating the plant.

Sam frowned, speaking "That looks like..."

"It's wormwood," I supplied, frowning. It was only over Father Gregory's headstone.

"Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are not at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else," Dean said, and we all looked around the crypt. "Except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam."

"Maybe," Sam said stubbornly.

"Maybe?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dean, I don't know what to think." Sam said, shaking his head. He was conflicted and it showed in his eyes. Whatever number this spirit had done on Sam, he was still believing it was an angel.

Dean stood up and came over to me, frowning. "What do you think?" He asked, looking down at me.

I sighed, looking into his eyes. Sam had stood up and was wandering over to another tomb, looking around.

"I think you're right," I whispered, and Dean looked relieved. "But we have to be really careful here Dean, these people that the spirit touched, they were almost fanatical in their beliefs once it was done."

We both looked over at Sam, who still had the same serene look on his face, like he truly had been touched by an angel.

"OK," Dean said, thinking out loud. "You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof," he said, walking up to Sam.

"How?" Sam asked, curious.

"We'll summon Gregory's spirit," Dean said and I shuddered. Summoning a spirit, in a crypt, oh yeah, nothing wrong with this picture at all.

"What? Here? In the church?" Sam looked mortified.

"Yeah. Yeah we just need a few odds and ends, and that séance ritual in Dad's journal," Dean said, thinking on his feet, nodding at his own words as he started to lead us back toward the exit.

"Oh, a séance, great. Hope Whoopi's available," Sam snorted, clearly thinking Dean was the one who had now gone mad.

Dean stopped and turned to stare at Sam, expressionless. "That's funny, actually." He said. "Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest." The plan was sound, if we could pull it off.

"If it's an angel, it won't show. Nothing will happen Sam," I added, looking at the youngest of us. He nodded, and then smiled at the thought that Dean was about to prove himself wrong.

"Exactly," Dean said with a smile. "That's one of the perks of the job, Sam: we don't have to operate on faith. We can know for sure. Don't you want to know for sure?" Sam stood still and then nodded slightly to us, his eyes wary but conceding the point.

Grocery Store

I grimaced as we left the little corner grocery store. Glancing down into the paper bag I was carrying, I looked at all the ingredients we'd just picked up for our séance. Many of the things we needed were hard to do, so we were making do.

"Dean. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spellwork before, but this take the cake," I said, rolling my eyes and pulling out a rolled up plastic placemat. "I mean, a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

Dean chuckled and nodded. "We'll just put it Spongebob side down."

"Christ I hope we don't end up summoning Spongebob, that's just gonna be awkward," I muttered, starting to cross the street and heading back toward the church.

Sam and Dean laughed at my comments, before Sam stopped dead in his tracks, a shocked look on his face. He was staring at something behind Dean. My eyes followed his gaze to a young man holding a bunch of flowers, waiting on the side of the road for the lights to change.

"That's it," Sam said.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

"That's the sign!" Sam said, pointing at something that clearly neither Dean or myself could see.

"Where?" Dean asked Sam, turning to look behind himself.

"Right there, right behind that guy! That's him, Dean. We have to stop him!"

The light's turned green for pedestrians and Flower Boy crossed over. Sam's face had twisted into a snarl and he was anxiously starting to cross the road after him. Dean grabbed his arm, frowning. "Wait a minute," he said to his brother.

"What are you doing? Let me go," Sam said, pulling back from Dean.

"You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?" Dean asked, and then looked like he regretted asking that question.

"Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him." Sam said, using semantics to argue his case.

"Define "stop", huh? I mean, what are you going to do?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at Sam.

"Beth, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it!" Sam said to me, playing on my faith. I felt sick, I wanted to agree with him, but I wasn't going to do that. The look on his face was starting to scare me, he was way too eager, not questioning, just following the spirit's guidance without question.

"All right, come on," Dean said, nodding. Flower Boy had gotten into his car a short distance away, while we'd been arguing semantics, he had gotten in the car and driven wherever he wanted. Dean jogged across the road to the Impala, and got in the driver's side. Sam went to open the passenger door and found it locked.

"Dean, unlock my door!" Sam said angrily. I didn't even try my door, it was written all over his face, Dean was planning to keep us safe and sound.

"You're not killing anyone, Sam." He said to his brother. He glanced over at me, unrolling his window a little. "I got this guy, you go do the séance." I nodded and bit my lip.

Sam cursed at him and thumped on the roof. "Dean!"

Deal pulled the car away from the church going in the same direction as Flower Boy, leaving me at the side of the road. I looked over at Sam, he looked panicked.

"Sam," I said, and he ignored me, fighting an inner batter of sorts. "Sam!" I said again, louder. He turned to look at me, and met my eyes. "Let's go." I said quietly, leading us back toward the church where we would go to do the séance.

Church Crypt

Sam finished laying out the spell materials for me as I paced, starting to feel a little tired, the day had been a long one and I really needed to get back to the motel for a rest at some point. I pushed through the weariness with a couple of deep breaths and focused on the candles, a ring of small white pillars around a central tall black one.

John's journal felt familiar and comforting in my hands as I read over the Latin before me again, running the words through my head silently to get the pronunciation right.

Sam looked at me, nodding that he was ready and I started to read from the journal.

"Amate spiritus obscure," my brain tried to translate it as I read. Beloved hidden spirit. "te quaerimus, te oramus," we seek you, we beg you, "nobuscum collequere," come speak with us, "aput nos circita," join our circle. Sam sprinkled an herb on the black candle and the flame flared brightly before us.

"What are you doing?" A voice sounded from behind us and I spun to see Father Reynolds standing a few feet away. "What is this?!"

"Uh, Father please. We can explain..." I started, and then I looked down at Sam, and the ring of candles. Crap. "Actually... maybe I can't. Um. This is a séance."

"A séance? Young lady, you are in the House of God." Father Reynolds said chidingly at me. I grimaced.

"It's based on early Christian rites... if that helps any," I offered weakly, looking to Sam for a little help.

"Enough. You're coming with me," Father Reynolds said, taking a step toward us, taking my arm firmly in his hand and pulling me toward the exit.

"Father, please, you... just wait a second!" Sam said, standing up to look at the man.

There was a bright glow that suddenly came into the room and we all turned to look at it. It was awe inspiring! Father Reynolds' eyes brightened as he watched it, I squinted into the light and then looked over at Sam, his face was full of disappointment.

"Oh my god! Is that, is that an angel?" Father Reynolds asked.

"No, it's not," Sam said with a sigh. "It's just Father Gregory."

The blinding glow started to fade, and the figure that had once looked like a shining angel faded to reveal a handsome young priest standing before us.

"Thomas?" Father Reynolds asked, looking speechless.

Father Gregory smiled and looked upon us all with love and grace. "I've come in answer to your prayers," he said to us.

Sam and I approached him slowly, cautious that we didn't know what to expect from this wayward spirit. Gregory turned his eyes to Sam and looked upon him with surprise.

"Sam," he said quietly, "I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry."

"Father, I'm sorry. But you're not an angel," Sam said to him, his voice full of heaviness.

"Of course I am," Gregory said smiling.

"No, you're a man. You're a spirit," I said gently to him, "and you need to rest."

"I was a man," Gregory argued with us in a lilting soft voice. "But now I'm an angel. I was on the steps of the church, and I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And suddenly I could see... everything." Gregory's voice faltered and he looked at his older mentor with compassion. "Father Reynolds, I saw you, praying and crying here. I came to help you."

"Help me how?" The older man asked, his eyes glittering with tears.

"By punishing the wicked," Gregory said.

"Those murders – that was because of you?" Father Reynolds asked, surprised.

"I received the Word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will," Gregory said to us with such certainty in his voice.

"You're driving innocent people to kill," I said to him, frowning.

"Those innocent people are being offered redemption." Gregory replied, looking at Reynolds. He paused, a small smile on his face. "Some people need redemption. Don't they, Sam?" I watched Sam and he looked uncomfortable with the statement, but I could see the truth in the statement Gregory had offered my little brother. He thought he was unworthy, that he needed saving from whatever the Yellow-Eyed Demon had done to him – and maybe he did, but this wasn't the way.

"How can you call this redemption?" Father Reynolds asked, shocked.

"You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things," Gregory said, his gaze falling on each of us in turn.

"Those people. They're locked up," Sam said a little angrily.

"No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to heaven," I thought I about Gloria, and the serenity now in her heart, and I sighed, he had given them something, some connection to a thing greater than themselves. Whether it was redemption I could not say, but it was easy to see how this spirit had convinced himself of his story.

"No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong Thomas," Father Reynolds said, stepping closer to Gregory. "This goes against everything you believe. You're lost, misguided."

"Father. No, I'm not misguided," Gregory argued, shaking his head slightly.

"You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels," Reynold said firmly.

"But...but I don't understand. You prayed for me to come," Gregory said, faltering in his conviction.

"I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. 'Thou shalt not kill', that's the word of God," Reynolds said to the young man.

I moved around the spirit to his headstone, standing next to it and drawing Gregory's gaze. He looked long and hard at it, bewildered, starting to become confused, like all spirits eventually did.

"Let us help you," I said to him softly.

He turned to look at Sam and Father Reynolds, then back at me. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"It's time to rest, Thomas, to be at peace," Reynolds said to him. "Please, let me give you Last Rites." I nodded, he was exactly right.

Father Gregory looked at his mentor and after a moment he nodded in resignation. Father Reynolds lifted his hands in prayer, bowing his head.

"Oh Holy Host, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day, in fulfillment of the will of God." Gregory started to flicker before us as the ritual kicked in, and Reynolds gasped, looking up.

"Father Reynolds?" Gregory asked, suddenly scared.

"Rest," Reynolds commanded him. Gregory hesitated, and then knelt before Reynolds. The latter placed his hand on the forehead of his young prodigy, his friend, and continued.

"I call upon the archangel Gabriel, Master of the Air, to make open the way. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend; that this being might be awakened to the world beyond."

My mind was playing tricks on me, I was tired, suddenly very aware of how pregnant I felt, and the weariness it brought on me. I thought for a moment that I felt a presence in the room with us, but then it was gone, and the bright glow returned to light up all round us. When it vanished, Gregory was gone, and Father Reynolds lowered his arms, staring at us in awe.

Dean's POV

Impala

I had left Beth and Sam standing on the steps of the church, and now I was starting to think Sam had completely gone out of his freaking mind. I was following a man on a date, that was it. Nothing more and nothing less. He'd picked the girl up from the corner by her house, and they were driving around in his car. I was following them like I was some pervert looking for a good time.

He turned the corner ahead and it took me a minute to get there, when I headed down the street I'd seen him turn, there was no one around. I hit the steering wheel and cursed out loud. "Dammit!" He was gone.

Taking a deep breath I started to look into the driveways of the homes I was passing, thinking maybe he'd turned in to one of them. Tail lights flashed and I hit the brakes, squinting down a dark alley between two residential homes. He'd killed the lights, but not thought about the brakes when he'd come to a stop.

I edged the Impala behind them, turning off the lights and coming to a stop a good couple of car lengths behind where he'd parked. I waited, watching, just like a pervert would – grimacing at the ridiculous situations I often found myself in. God dammit Sammy, you had better be right about this!

There was a discussion happening in the car, and then the unmistakable sounds of a woman yelping, and struggling within the car. Within seconds I was out of the Impala, running toward the car. I tried the door handle. Locked.

Inside the woman was locked in a struggle with the man, he had a box cutter and was trying to cut her. Angrily I raised my elbow and smashed it into the driver's side window. The glass shattered at the impact, I reached in and punched the guy, slamming his face into the steering wheel, listening as he grunted. I flipped the locked open and the girl scrambled out of her door, crying.

I slid across the hood of the car in a hurry to get to her, grabbing her by the arms. "Are you ok? Are you ok?" I asked quickly, assessing her for any injuries. She grabbed my arms, whimpering.

"Thank god!" She said, nodding to me.

The guy came to and started the car as I pulled the girl away, watching him driving off.

"Damn it!" I cursed. "Are you sure you're ok? Do you have a cell phone?" The girl nodded at me, still sobbing. "Call 911!" I called out to her, leaving her by the side of the road, running for the Impala. Within a minute I was behind the wheel, and in pursuit.

I was hot on his tail, my knuckles white as I gripped the steering wheel, determined not to lose this son of a bitch. He was driving erratically, putting us all in danger, a truck cut across the road to do a wide turn, and the bastard veered off the road to get around him, cutting a grassy section of land. I easily followed in the Impala.

He skidded around a corner, and I followed. Out of nowhere it seemed like a truck carrying long metal pipes screeched to a halt in front of the guy's car. He wasn't expecting it, and slammed on his breaks. The pipes weren't secured and I watched in horror as they spun from the roof of the truck, one of them bouncing on the road before the guy's car, and then straight through the windshield. It impaled him and I skidded to a halt, not believing my eyes.

"Holy..." I said softly, awestruck. I got out of the car, walking around to look at what had happened. The pole was driven straight through the guys chest, pinning him to the seat. He was beyond dead. It was eerie.

Beth's POV

Motel Room

I'd been trying to ring Dean's cell phone, but he wasn't answering. It always made me sick to my stomach when that happened. It wasn't until Sam and I made our way back to the motel that I realised his phone had fallen out of his pocket and on the floor. I picked it up and looked at the screen, at least ten missed calls showing up, all from me. I grimaced, and placed it on the bedside table beside me, we had no way of reaching Dean.

Sam was sullen, moving about the room packing his things. Any attempt to engage him in conversation didn't work, so I lay down on the bed, exhausted. Sleep quickly claimed me. It couldn't have been long before I felt those soft lips brush across my forehead and I opened my eyes to see Dean in front of me, kneeling on the floor looking down at me.

"Hey," I smiled at him. "Where have you been?" I reached out to touch his face, and he returned the smile.

"How was your day?" He asked, not really answering my question. I sat up, looking at Sam who was fiddling with his duffel bag, silent.

"You were right. It wasn't an angel, it was Gregory," I said quietly, watching as Sam's shoulders slumped. I inclined my head toward our little brother and Dean nodded, standing up. He took the flask of whiskey out of his pocket, taking a drink and then offering it to Sam. Sam watched him silently, and then took it, raising the flask to his lips for a drink.

"I don't know, Dean, I just..." He sighed and sunk to the bed. "I wanted to believe, so badly. It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. All alone, you know?" He looked at me when he said this, tears in his eyes, and I nodded, I understood. Sometimes it felt as if there was no guidance from on high, as if we'd been left to drift, rudderless on an ocean of dark, troubling waters.

"There's so much evil out there in the world guys, I feel like I could drown in it," Sam said, also seeming to be lost in a water metaphor. "And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up..." His voice trailed off.

Dean looked at him confidently. "Yeah well don't worry about that, all right?" He said, sitting on the bed next to Sam. "We're watching out for you," he reassured Sam, looking over at me. I smiled and nodded at them both.

"Yeah, I know you are. But, you guys are only human... and I needed to think that there was something else watching too, you know?" He looked around the room. "Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Dean asked.

"Maybe I could be saved," Sam said quietly, and it broke my heart to see him so torn. "But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgement, and you're right Dean. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes."

"No Sam," I said, shaking my head. I stood and came around to the pair of them, sitting on the bed opposite them. I took his hands in mine, peering up at him.

"You can't lose your faith. I know it seems like there's nothing watching us, it's not always easy. But my dad always said, in the times when our faith is tested, that is when we need to pray harder, because those are the times when we need it most." I swallowed, I didn't talk to the guys about this much, it wasn't my place to dictate how they should feel, what they should believe, but Sammy... he needed to believe, and I hated to see him wavering like this.

"Yeah, well, it's funny you say that," Dean said quietly, looking at me.

"Why?" I asked.

"Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information," Dean said to Sam. "That guy in the car was bad news. I barely got there in time."

We gaped at him. "What happened?" Sam asked.

"He's dead." Dean said, looking down at his hand.

"Did... you?" Sam asked, hesitantly.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. "But I'll tell you one thing." He licked his lips, swallowing. "If... the way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean, I don't know what to call it." He looked confused, shaking his head.

"What?" Sam asked. "Dean what did you see?"

Dean hesitated, frowning and looking troubled. "Maybe... God's will?" His eyes were serious, holding that word in the air for all of us to ponder. I looked up at the room around us, and suddenly felt like we needed to go home. But we had no home to go to, we never had. The closest thing we had to it was Bobby's. I did a rough calculation in my head. It would take two days of driving, if we stopped for sleep – one full day if we didn't.

"I want to go home," I said quietly to the boys and they turned to stare at me.

"I want to be at St. Michael's for Christmas Eve," I whispered, suddenly I was hit with an overwhelming need to see that church, to be there for Christmas mass.

"Beth that's over 1500 miles..." Sam said sadly.

"I know," I said, biting my lip.

Dean looked at me, contemplating. He knew it never really bothered me where we were come Christmas, so long as I could get to a church. But we were all a little shaken by this last case. He looked at Sam and dragged a weary hand across his face.

"We'll share the drive," he said to Sam, who nodded. "We can make it."

1.5 Days Later
Christmas Eve

Bobby's House
Sioux Falls

Cole's POV

Dad had never been much for Christmas, or decorations. But fortunately for me, when Beth joined the Winchester family at age fifteen, I gained a sister, and a partner in crime. The lives of those four men had changed irrevocably the day they brought us together.

Beth was a big believer in angels and loved Christmas. She was also not going to take no for an answer when John had told her they "didn't do Christmas," I would never forget the way that conversation went down. Beth had won, like she usually did with John, and from then on, most Christmases were spent here, in Sioux Falls, in a jumbled up mix of traditions – a tree, presents (courtesy of John's credit card), church, dinner, and the drinking – of course.

Dad was having a drink now, looking a bit sullen as he prowled around the house. It seemed big and empty without the Winchesters. It had been a long couple of years, too many, where we hadn't actually spoken after Dad cocked a shotgun at John and told him to get the hell off the front porch. It had been my fault, all of it, and we'd all suffered because of it.

I fought down the usual sense of worthlessness and anger at myself. It was my first Christmas home in years, Dad and I were on tenterhooks – he was wanting to fuss over me like a mother hen, but every time he looked at me, he frowned because all he could see was the past in me. All he could see was John.

John. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about the last time I'd seen him. Somehow I always ended up patching him up after one hunt or another, and this time had been no different. He'd shown up on my doorstep, bleeding and beaten – ranting about some demon, the demon, the one that had killed Mary and changed their lives forever.

When he'd left, somehow I'd known it was for the last time. There was a recklessness in his eyes that had told me he was on the final track, the one that would take him home to Mary, to be with her. The irony, that I was the one patching him up, I was the one in his arms, while all he could ever think about was her.

There was a pounding on the door and I paused from hanging ornaments on the tree. I'd made Dad go and get one even though he was sullen and miserable. It smelled fresh and wintery, just like Christmas. Beth had often talked about how Dean's kisses were like Christmas morning, it made me chuckle – that girl had always had a serious girl hard-on for that man.

I heard Dad's exclamation before I made it out of the library to the front door.

"What in tarnation?!" He cried, and I looked over his shoulder to see Dean, Sam and Beth standing on the porch, grinning from ear to ear. She saw me standing there and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Cole!" Beth said, excitedly and rushed past Dad to hug me. "I didn't know you were here..." she said, looking at me happily.

"Oh good god here comes the hormonal party," Dean muttered, pushing into the foyer. He gave me an awkward kiss on the cheek and grinned.

"Hey Cole," he muttered before heading straight for the fridge. Dad was hot on his heels.

"Something you need to tell me boy?" Dad said, gesturing back at Beth, standing there, looking, well a hell of a lot fatter than she had been the last time he'd seen her.

Dean grimaced, a beer bottle half raised to his mouth. Sam snorted and shook his head, he was carrying a couple of large bags in from the car – I saw Christmas paper peeking out from one of them – Beth had been shopping.

"Uh, yeah, about that..." Dean said, looking to Beth for help.

"You went and married that girl without inviting your own damn family?!" Dad cut in.

Dean looked shocked, and Beth startled beside me.

"Married? Huh? Bobby what are you..." Dean's voice trailed off as his eyes fell to Beth's left hand, she was wearing his silver ring.

"Oh!" Beth said, as if remembering for the first time that she even had it on. "Oh, no... we didn't... we're not," she stuttered, and started to pull the ring off her finger with a laugh.

"Yeah that was a cover for the last job we were on," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Some cover, you dang fool! That don't look like no pillow shoved up her sweater there!" Dad was in fine form, he'd had a bit to drink so there was going to be no stopping what came out his mouth. Sam was pissing himself laughing in the other room as he listened in on the conversation, putting the presents under my half-decorated tree.

Dean and Beth looked a little sheepish and I saw her watching me. Dean was practically chugging his beer, getting ready to reach for another one. I shook my head and gave Beth another hug.

"Congratulations," I whispered in her ear and she beamed at me.

"So is it a boy or a girl?" I asked, looking from her to Dean. His eyes met mine and he groaned.

"Don't ask!" He muttered, and threw his hand in the air.

Sam was leaning in the arch way leading to the library. "You want in on the wager?" He asked casually, a smile plastered to his face.

"Wager?" I said. "You're seriously not betting on this poor child are you?" I chuckled, shaking my head. Just like a Winchester.

Dad was muttering under his breath. I'm sure I heard something come out of his mouth about Winchester men, and making Beth an honest woman. Dean just looked pained and left him to it, coming to join us, slipping his arm around Beth with a smile. Beth took his right hand and slipped his silver ring back on to his finger with a smile and kiss. I rolled my eyes, these too were too bloody cute for their own good!

"A hundred will get you in the bet for the sex, and we all pick a birth date, the loser has to go into the Roadhouse dressed in a diaper," he said with his eyebrow raised.

"Seems like a manly bet – but I'm not going bare chested into the Roadhouse, Dean. I'm in it for the cash. Cold hard cash Winchester." I said, pulling my wallet out of the bag that was on the table in the foyer. I removed a couple of fifty dollar bills from the folds, and handed them over to Sam.

"Boy," I said with a smirk. Dean snorted.

"Looks like you're the only one going for girl, Sammy," he said, looking over at his brother. Sam shrugged, looking nonplussed.

Beth giggled and I turned a shrewd eye to her. "Do you know?" I asked her, something wasn't right.

"No one knows yet," Dean said confidently. I raised an eyebrow at Beth. She shifted uncomfortably in front of us. "Oh no you didn't!" Dean gaped at her and she looked guiltily back at him.

He grabbed his duffel and started rummaging around in it, coming up with an empty envelope and brandishing it in front of everyone. Beth looked at him smugly.

"Where is the card?" Dean asked, referring to the card containing the sex of the baby on it.

"I ate it," Beth said with a grin.

Dean sighed and threw his hands in the air, looking defeated.

Sam burst into laughter at the expression on Dean's face. "This isn't a laughing matter angel boy!" Dean said, eyes narrowing at Beth.

We all laughed at him and shook our heads. "What the hell is wrong with you damn idjits?!" Dad had walked over, and was looking between us all. Beth was leading us into the library, her eyes on the tree, smiling.

She picked up one of the presents Sam had put beneath the tree and handed it to Dad.

"Merry Christmas Bobby," she said with a smile. Dad opened the small package up, trying to hold back a smile – he was always a little soft with Beth. The present was a book, it looked old, and fragile. Japanese characters were engraved into the leather cover. Dad looked at it stunned.

"Kojiki," he murmured, looking up at Beth in surprise.

She smiled and nodded. "Oldest version I could find, still in Japanese..." she said. Dad had an English translation, it was one of his favourite books. Beth was probably one of the only people who knew of his love for Japan, and that he was fluent in Japanese.

"Thank you baby girl," he muttered, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He disappeared into the kitchen, carrying his new belonging as if it was made from gold.

"Nice one!" I grinned at her and she smiled at me, happy that Dad had liked it.

We busied ourselves for the next few hours finishing off the tree decorations. Dad had got out the eggnog and rum; the boys were getting right into that. It was funny to watch – Beth and I sipped away on the non-alcoholic version, it was one of my favourite parts of Christmas.

Beth's eyes were on the clock, it was coming up to 11.30pm. "Time to go?" I asked her, referring to the tradition she had of dragging us to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Dean groaned, knocking back the last of his eggnog.

"Do we have to? Haven't we had enough angels for one week?" He asked, looking at Beth, his voice didn't match his words – he was teasing her, and she knew it.

"Hey, I'm not the one who said the words 'God's will' a day ago... I think maybe you're starting to become a believer Dean," Beth quipped and I snorted.

Dean rolled his eyes and got to his feet, "I'll round up Sam and Bobby, meet you in the car," he muttered, shaking his head.

Beth watched as he left the room, a smile on her face. "Told you," I said to her with a smug look. "Didn't I say you'd be one hell of a lucky girl one day?"

She nodded and grinned at me, then her face turned serious.

"How are you? Really?" She asked, taking my hand in hers. I watched her, feeling my guard drop just a little.

"Surviving, day by day." I admitted. "Big changes ahead, I just have to keep my head above water, it's what he would have wanted." I said quietly.

She nodded. "He gave me this, for you," Beth said, and she reached into her bag, handing me a small wrapped package. I held it for a moment, just staring at it. After a moment I broke open the tissue paper that Beth had obviously used to wrap it – sure as hell John wouldn't have wrapped it. Inside was a sheet of paper, curled up like a parchment. I tipped it and a ring slid out from the middle.

It was identical to the one Dean wore, and it had been John's. I fought back tears and sniffed, staring at the silver in my hands. Beth was silent beside me, just letting me work through the feelings. I was an emotional wreck, tired, sore and scared of what was to come in my life. Somehow this ring gave me some hope. I slipped it on to my ring finger, it was a little big, but I didn't care.

I smiled through tears at her and pulled her in for another hug. "Thank you," I whispered. She nodded and squeezed me tight. The paper had John's familiar handwriting on it, but I couldn't read it, not right now. I tucked it safely into my journal, and put it in my bag for later.

"You girls coming or not? We're gonna be late!" Dean yelled from the front porch. I laughed and wiped the tears from my face.

"Who would have thought he'd be so keen to get to church?" I asked Beth, she was looking just as surprised as I was.

"Yeah... well stranger things have happened," she said thoughtfully, helping me to my feet. We walked to the door, an arm around each other's waists. Christmas. We were all together again, and somehow, it just seemed like the heartache eased for a moment. It wouldn't be long and the harsh reality of life would set back in, but for now we could pretend, make believe that everything in the world was ok. Who knows when we'd get that chance again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

The song for this chapter is: "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan
It is so totally appropriate for all these guys - they all struggling in one way or another with needing to be saved, to be a hero, to fight back the darkness

The timeline on this one got changed to fit in with the developing storyline I have happening, this had to happen in December, not January. So hence why it's not just after New Years as in the show, but it's just before Christmas. Just in case you picked up on the discrepancy and wondered why :)

Wondering who Cole is? Better go check out EarthhAngel's story How To Save A Life ! We've made a start on a crossover fanfic, Beth style :D It's a great John-centric story with OC Cole Singer, Bobby's daughter. I love her! She'll be guest starring in this series from time to time :D

Hope you enjoyed this story - Please leave a review! :D