Fifteen minutes later, a semi-conscious Dean was stirring restlessly on the couch while Maggie grabbed water, painkillers and the first-aid kit from the upstairs bathroom. A glance at her reflection showed her sunken-eyed and hollow-cheeked, Dean's blood smeared on her face and hands.
Hell of a night was usually a sentiment reserved for parties where you got trashed and couldn't remember it the next day. Hell of a night was rarely used in casual conversation to infer a night in which your boyfriend was captured and beaten by Ghouls, a mad monster father was hunting you, the first angel to have ever introduced you to the reality of impossible, unnatural things made a return from the grave—those kinds of things just didn't happen.
And Castiel and Crowley were still missing.
Maggie returned to the couch, sat and went to work methodically on cleaning out Dean's gashed face. He barely shifted unless she was picking gravel out of the abrasions; and then it was only to rock his head uneasily away.
And this was the part Maggie hated. When Sam had been taken by a nest of vampires, drained almost dry; that time Dean had showed up with a fractured wrist. The not knowing, every time she watched them walk out that door, if next time it would be just one of them standing there. Glazed, bloodshot eyes, blood on their hands.
Dean didn't make it.
Sammy didn't make it.
Counting heads—make sure there are two—every time one of them texted her to say, Look out the window, Mags. We're home.
That was part that killed her.
"Did I not tell you he would be returned to you, alive?"
Maggie's head whipped around so fast, her neck twinged.
Adam leaned against the wall, scuffed up, his shirt torn, a bleeding, smoking cut on his thigh. Arms crossed, he glared at her. At Dean.
Maggie turned on the couch, spreading her arms out, protective, and fierce. "You're not getting your hands on him again."
"No, it would appear not." Adam quirked a brow. "The fight with your god has left me—a bit worse for the wear. I have had enough of the games for today, but I will be seeing you soon, Maggie."
He snapped his fingers, and evaporated.
Maggie pressed her lips together. "Next time we meet, you die."
The soft, muted sounds coming from the couch behind her pulled Maggie's attention back to Dean. At first she thought he was waking up—humming?
His phone was ringing.
Maggie extracted it gently from his back pocket—decent of Adam to return the damn thing—and flipped it open, bringing it to her ear.
"D—D'n." The voice was sick, soft, and wet. "Nggh. H-Help."
"Sammy!" Maggie bolted upright, jostling Dean, though not hard enough to wake him. Her relief at hearing Sam, just breathing, just alive, was tempered by the stuttering slipperiness of his tone. Blood? "We're coming for you. Hold on, Sammy!"
She clapped the phone shut and dropped her head into her hands. "Cas? Did you hear that? Castiel!"
No way of knowing if he'd been close enough. If he was even all right after his fight with Adam. Maggie looked down at Dean; he was hurt, he was weak, she didn't want to leave him.
She might be the only one who could save Sam. Who could save Cas.
Adam. Are they even alive. That infuriating, tunneled silence. Answer me, you son of a bitch!
Don't bore me with questions you know I won't answer. The reply, pure venom, oozing into the cracks in Maggie's armor. You may have your angels and hunters to protect you, but the next time we meet, I will be taking my revenge in full force. And you will be on your knees. Because the next time we meet, I will have my alphas by my side.
Angels. Hunters.
That had to mean Cas, both of them, and Gabriel—that they were still alive.
Yeah? Maggie poured all of the contempt into her reply that she possibly could. Whatever gets you through the night.
There was a quiet, echoing sound of contempt in her head.
Then, nothing.
Blowing out a breath, Maggie leaned over Dean, resting her forehead against his. He roused slightly at the touch, forehead rocking beneath hers. It felt like Maggie's heart was ripping in two: the part that wanted to get out there, with their dwindling numbers, and look for Sam, for Cas. The part that wanted to stay here and not move, not until Dean was awake and alert and able to protect himself. If Adam came back—
A fluttering of clothing from the corner. Gripping Dean's arm to steady herself, Maggie sat up again.
Cas looked like he was barely keeping his feet. Blood poured from his chest, from his forehead. His blue eyes were dazed, he was swaying back and forth like a ship's topsail in a storm.
And in his arms—though how Cas was carrying all six-foot-four of him, Maggie wasn't sure—was Sam. Bite marks taken out of his neck, his sides, his limbs. Blood caked in his dark hair. He was deathly pale, and deathly still.
"Cas." Maggie rose, slowly, not sure what was holding her back from running to them. Except that Cas looked wired tight, like at the smallest irritation he would explode a hundred different ways.
"The fight drained me. I…can't."
Sam dumped unceremoniously from his arms and onto the hard floor, smacking down with a thump. Cas toppled beside him and lay still.
"Dean!" Maggie hit his chest with the back of her hand, and he flinched, eyes kicking open. "Dean, get up!"
She hopped over the coffee table, tumbling to her knees beside Cas, rolling him over and pressing both hands into the wound on his chest that was belching blood. She didn't have to look to know Dean had Sam.
"Cas!" Maggie was almost screaming, screaming in his ear, and his eyes rolled frenetically beneath his lids. "No, Cas!"
"Sammy—Sammy, hey!" Dean pulled his brother into his arms, dilated eyes sweeping over the mess that was Sam, all bite-marks and holes. "Oh, son of a bitch, what'd you get yourself into this time? Sam? Stay with me, man!"
"Sam!" Maggie added her voice to his, but she could see he was fading, they both were. She turned back to Cas, leaning in close, grabbing his unshaven cheeks in her hands. "Cas, quick, touch my soul. Castiel, get up and touch my soul now!"
"Maggie!" Dean barked.
Sam was sprawled awkwardly across Dean's lap, his chest on Dean's knees, chin on the crook of his brother's arm. His head picked up, a weak, rocking motion, blood fanning from his lips with every staggered breath.
"Mags—no. Don't. Pl-please." He coughed—it barely passed for a cough, almost a sob. "Please."
"Sam, lay down." Maggie said, frantic. "Castiel's gonna heal you in a minute." She stroked the pad of her thumb across Cas's jaw. "Right, Cas?"
Sam spit blood. "Not—if—you're risking yourself. It's too dan-dangerous." He didn't even seem to notice Dean's hands, tight fists around his jacket. He was earnest, straining with everything he had, and staring at her. "Not for—for me, Mags. I'm begging you. Please. Promised Dean I'd—keep you safe."
"Sammy." Dean's voice caught.
"To hell with that." Maggie muttered, knotting her fingers in the collar of Cas's coat. "Cas, please, please, come on!"
His eyes, finally flickering into life, met hers. "I need you to let me...touch it."
"Hell, no!" Dean snarled, lurching forward. "I'll do it!"
"You're already hurt, Dean, it'll kill you! Do you want Sam to die?" Maggie snapped, slinging a glare onto him, and Dean froze. The conflict in his eyes, plain as day: Maggie or Sam.
Maggie made the choice for him. "Give me your belt."
The war ended for Dean the second Sam's back arched into his chest, blood spewing from his mouth. Keeping a hold on Sam with one arm, Dean whipped off his belt with his free hand and handed it to Maggie. Their hands met over soft, pliable leather. There was a fresh wetness in Dean's eyes that made Maggie's heart ache.
"'M'right here, sweetheart." Dean said hoarsely.
Maggie nodded, sliding the belt from his grasp.
Castiel reached for her, hand flat on her sternum, just beneath her breasts. "Don't move or you will blow up."
"That's blunt." Dean muttered, arms tightening around Sam as he bucked, spitting up more blood. "Hang in there, Sammy." His eyes never moved from Maggie's face.
"I won't." Maggie said resolutely. "Just do it." She doubled the belt over and slung it in her mouth, teeth dipping into leather. Met Dean's eyes, and grabbed the front of Cas's jacket with both hands.
None of the pain she'd felt from Adam's infiltrations was anything like this; like someone had poured liquid sunlight, hot and red, into her veins. Like every blood-cell in her body was boiling, all at once. Like dying.
She arched down into herself and screamed, fingers torquing Cas's jacket so that, if she'd been aware of anything outside of the pain, she might've been afraid she'd strangle him. But his hand didn't move and she didn't move, not more than a hairsbreadth even though her muscles rippled with the urge to do a spasmodic dance, to pull her away from Cas's touch and the pain it brought, the agony that reached a crescendo beyond anything she'd ever known before.
And then, just as fast, it sucked out. Cas's hand retreated and Maggie slumped, her vision coloring with splotches of gray.
Floating. For a long time.
Whispers, on the edges of her mind.
Adam, sending something. For her. And for Sam.
Hellhounds.
…You fucker.
"Crowley," Maggie said—or thought she said. "Keep your dogs away from me, and watch out for them. That filthy son of a bitch is messing with them."
Oh, they are not Crowley's hell hounds! They are mine...and mine are bigger.
I'm not scared.
I'm not…
Not scared.
Finally, not scared.
Sam's okay. Cas is okay. Dean is, too.
She felt warmth, sweaty, wet warmth, on her cheeks. "Mag—Maggie! Hey! Hey, hey, hey! C'mon back!" Something flicked her face. "Maggie!"
Her eyes bolted open.
She was on the couch—when had she moved? Strong arms around her, a warm chest rising and falling against her elbow, her arm pinned between his body and hers. Dean. He was holding her face, too, in an awkward, angled position. His anxious eyes searching hers as she came around.
"Son of a bitch." Dean breathed, dropping his head for a second, then meeting her gaze. "You back with us?"
"I…think so?" Her voice broke, turning the word into a question, and Dean smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.
"Hey," His breath smelled like blood and coffee. Not pleasant, but she'd take it. "I ever tell you, you look pretty smokin' when you're helping save lives."
"Let me help more often, then." Maggie hinted.
"Yeah, we'll see." Dean looked past her. "Sammy, you okay?"
Maggie heard a muffled 'uh-huh' that speared her through with relief and let her relax in Dean's grip. Dean loosened his hold on her to rub his eye with the heel of his hand, groaning.
"Dean? Are you okay?" Maggie asked, pulling herself up a little bit.
"My head, God!" Dean let go of her and leaned over, fists to his forehead. "That son of a bitch!
"Sam's okay, I'm okay, Cas is okay. You can relax." Maggie said. "Baby, come here." She wrapped her arms around him, her cheek on his shoulder, eyes closed. "I was so scared."
Dean reached around, gripped her arm.
It said more than words ever could
Sam pulled himself up onto one elbow; still pale, and drenched in his own blood, but it didn't look like he was bleeding out anymore. Cas had mended him.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, and Dean just grunted. Sam's eyes narrowed. "Dean?"
"He's okay." Maggie assured him. "Gabriel, Castiel and Crowley disappeared…God knows when. Adam, the father of all—that's who took Dean and created all those ghouls—he keeps sending me telepathic messages, though. And hellhounds."
Dean's head yanked up. "Hellhounds?"
"I think so. I…I heard him say it. After Cas touch my soul."
"So he knocked you into some kinda psychic trance?" Dean glared at Cas. "What the hell, man?"
"Dean, it was happening before Cas ever touched me. Since," She tried to think back, everything got tangled somewhere around a Dean Ghoul backhanding her. And where the hell had that thing even gone? "Since I got that first phone call, I think. I remember hearing a voice…something tell me about the ghouls."
"Oh." Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, Cas."
"It's forgotten." Cas straightened with a warm smile for each of them. "I'm glad to see you're all right. All of you. I'll get some of my angels to take care of the hellhounds." He nodded to Maggie. "If you don't mind, I need a word with Sam and Dean, alone."
Maggie extricated herself from Dean, ignoring his disappointed expression, and limped for the kitchen; her chest felt like someone had been sitting on it. She stopped just long enough to run the back of her hand down Sam's bloodstained cheek, earning a soft smile from him. Then she shut the door and went to the sink.
The tap water tasted like minerals and was too warm, but she slugged back two full glasses of it before she felt satisfied. Then she was left staring out the window, ignoring the hushed voices coming from the living room.
And that was when she saw them; because they were after her.
Hellhounds, Adam's warrior canines, poised up and down the street in front of the house. Dean had never told her about them, about what they looked like; too gruesome, too disturbing, not a memory he broached even with Sam.
Maggie could see why.
Blackish-green skin sloughing off, jaws half-rotted, but full of razor-sharp teeth. Sunken, pitiless red-dot eyes, their saliva hanging in yellow ropes and dripping down nearly-hairless skin, burned and freckled with pustules.
The sight alone made her want to gag.
Moreso because Adam had sent them for her. And for Sam.
And that was when they glimmered on the edges of her vision; not a sight, maybe not even a thought.
But—angels. A battalion, summoned by thought from Castiel. She could feel their raw energy hovering just outside the window, making the glass vibrate, just a little. They were there, and they were waiting.
Maggie's throat noosed with dread.
She turned away when the first angel smacked into the first Hellhound, clapping her hands to her ears to mask the screeching.
My fault, my fault, we're the reason they're here, the reason those angels have to die. Cas said something, out in the living room, and Dean laughed.
Sam didn't, because Sam could hear. He knew.
Adam's hellhounds. Here for them.
It had to stop. It had to stop now, no matter what that took.
Even if it meant calling Adam in.
When the door opened to the kitchen, she was already running. Maggie almost tripped her way toward Cas, and wrapped her arms around him.
"Thank you, Cas. You're the best ang—god ever. Thank you." She squeezed him tight. "Awkward?" She glanced up at his blank, bemused face, "Not at all," and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Cas."
"Maggie, you love everybody." Dean put in.
Tensed for a minute, Cas finally relaxed, and returned the embrace. "This is odd... but nice, very nice. Thank you. This is the first time somebody has done this to me." He patted her hair. "Everything has been taken care of, you and the Winchesters are safe now." He set Maggie back at arm's length. "I need you to get as much information as possible from Adam. Find out what is this all about."
So he knew. He had to know what was going on outside.
"I'm gonna talk to him now, Cas. I saw the hellhounds. I saw your angels fighting them. It's all my fault, Cas. It's all my fault."
Cas looked out the window, a brief flicker of pain crossing his face. "I will see to this. Go back with Sam and Dean."
And he disappeared.
Maggie leaned against the doorpost; watching Sam, first, the way his eyes were glued to the floor but his head was cocked. Listening to something. Dean was rubbing his temples lightly.
There was an awkward pause; then Sam cleared his throat.
"I—I guess I missed a lot while I was down for the count, huh?" He scrubbed his fist against his forehead. "Guh. I feel like I got hit by a freight train." Dean made a harsh sound in his throat, and Sam pinned a glare on him, with no vigor behind it. "Dean, I'm fine. Stop worrying about me, man. I'm just glad that son of a bitch didn't kill you." He fell quiet, for a minute, eyes averting. "Sorry I didn't come for you sooner." When Dean didn't answer, Sam lifted his eyes, confusion crinkling his forehead. "Wait. Hellhounds. What're they after?"
Maggie opened her mouth to answer—
And the voice nailed itself back into her head. I've spoken to one of my subordinates, and it's raised some doubts. Tell me the truth, Maggie: did Dean kill Eve in cold blood? Or self defense?
"Would you stop that!" Maggie shrieked, bringing the attention of both Winchesters directly onto her. She tried to focus herself, shutting out their stares.
He never wanted to kill her, Adam, it was self defense only. What would you do if you were in his shoes?
But why did he even go looking for Eve? None of this is making sense to me!
Why look for her if not to kill her?
They didn't have much choice, it was all Crowley. It was all…Crowley…
A first spark of something ugly and angry kindled in Maggie's chest.
Crowley? There was a prolonged, profoundly weighted silence. And Maggie realized that the world outside the house was holding its breath. No more Hellhounds. No more angels. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that was waiting for something. But he lead me to believe it was all Dean…? If you are being truthful with me, then I have put you through all this for nothing!
"He what?" Maggie burst out, and Dean actually jumped. "Oh, that son of a bitch, I swear."
"Mags?" Sam asked, rising slowly to his feet. "What's going on?"
Maggie trudged to the couch and fell into it, leaning heavily against Dean's side. The arm he slung around her waist was protective and comforting. "Hellhounds are after me. After both of us, I think. Cas promised to take care of them. I'm telepathically talking to Adam as we speak." She met Sam's stricken gaze. "Sam, did you want to kill Eve or was it self defense?"
Sam's face hardened.
"I'm a hunter, Mags." He gave her a bitchface, the kind that under most circumstances would've been hilarious. But not now. Not tonight. "Yeah. I wanted her dead. If Dean hadn't done it, I'd have found a way to. And you can tell Adam I'm not sorry for what I am, either."
"No." Maggie replied, resolutely. "No, I'm gonna lie. I don't know whether to trust Adam with this, but he said he'd done all this because Crowley told him to get revenge on Dean." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "So here we are, in trouble because of our dear king, again." She dropped her hand, and turned to look at Dean, to meet his eyes. "I want to protect you."
"Aw, sweetheart, I've been takin' care'a me and Sam for a long time. I think we can handle this prick." Dean lounged back, draping an arm along the back of the couch. "I say, bring it."
"Look." Sam interjected. "Trust him, or don't, it's up to you, Mags. But Dean and I are probably gonna have to take him down, too." He turned away, walked toward the door, ripping his hands back through his hair. "Listen, I need to get out. Take a walk. Clear my head. I've got some—some stuff I gotta think about."
Which worked for Maggie. It would give her a chance to invite Adam in. Meet with him. Try to sort things out. And as long as the Hellhounds were gone, Sam wouldn't be in danger. He might even be safer out there than in here.
"You should take Dean with you, I need to meet someone. Just…just come back soon."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. Meet with who?" Dean sat up straight again. "Not that friggin' Father, right?" When Maggie didn't answer, he gripped her shoulder. "You think I'm leaving?"
"Dean's staying with you." Sam said curtly. "And Dean, if you try to follow me, I swear to God I'll kick your ass, man. I need to figure some things out. Alone."
For the first time since Cas had healed them, Maggie felt her stomach nosedive. "Sam, I don't like it. Where are you going?" He was already out, slamming the door behind him. "Sam!"
"Aw, crap. What a bitch." Dean got to his feet. Stopped. Hackles up.
Adam stood in the doorway Sam had just vacated. Face calm, smoother than Maggie had seen it before.
"Dean. Easy." She said, before he could fly off the handle and into attack mode.
"I am unsure what to believe right now. I have sent my hellhounds away." He looked at Dean, eyes hooded, mistrustful. "Dean Winchester. I know that you are not sorry for what you did. But I want to know the reason for it. Eve never harmed you or your brother. So, why?"
Dean looked like he had a thousand retorts for that. None of them would move the conversation in the right direction.
Maggie laid a hand back on his chest. "You know Crowley. He wanted her alive, but I don't think you wanna know what he would do to her if he got her. Crowley wanted purgatory. He wanted to torture Eve until she told him where purgatory is, and then kill her. She would have died anyway, Adam, because she came to this world. Even though she died, at least she died quick."
Dean snorted quietly, but his rigid muscles loosened a bit under Maggie's hand.
Adam's eyes glistened in the lamplight. "So...it was a mercy killing?"
"More or less." Dean growled.
Adam passed a hand down his face. "I thought that you did it out of spite! I feel so foolish now, allowing a demon to manipulate me like that."
"They could have given her to Crowley, but they didn't." Maggie added.
It was the straw to break the camel's back, so speak. Adam's head lifted, regret flashing in his eyes. "Please accept my deepest apologies for what I have done, it was never my intention to hurt innocent people." He grasped her hand, and knelt, eliciting a snarl of distaste from a still-frozen Dean. "I am in your debt, Maggie. Until it has been cleared."
Maggie tugged her hand free. "Adam, you put me and my closest friends through hell today. What if someone innocent had gotten killed?" The Father did not meet her eyes. "Stand up now, I'm not your god, don't kneel before me. But I'll remember that. One day I might need your help."
Father nodded. "Dean, on behalf of yourself, and for your brother as well, please accept my apology."
"I don't think s—"
Maggie jabbed him in the ribs.
"Ow! Geeze, you gotta beat a man while he's hurt?" Dean massaged his side and Maggie raised her eyebrows. Dean frowned, rolled his eyes. "All right! Fine. Apology…accepted." He looked away. "Don't expect me to shake your hand, or anything. You already beat the crap out of me today."
Adam's lips quirked. "Well. I am sorry for that and am thankful I didn't do any permanent damage." He stood. "If you ever need my help, I am just one telepathic message away." He tapped Maggie's forehead with two fingers. "Our minds are linked now, but only when you allow it. I won't be spying on you. I am a creature of my word."
Maggie wasn't sure about that. This whole thing felt a little convenient, a little too easy. But if it would buy them just a few hours' reprieve, she was willing to play along. At least for now. "Wow, you've changed. Thanks Adam. Drop by whenever you like!"
A perfunctory nod. "I hope I can prove that to you. I will leave you now, I can see that you and the Winchesters will need to talk." He paused. "Know that I was acting on blind anger...but you have opened my eyes to the truth. I'm not as evil as people believe."
Maggie's reply, a little more sincere this time: "I hope you're not. I really hope you're not a monster."
Adam smirked. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."
His jaws gaped in an inhumanly wide yawn, baring needle-sharp teeth. Dean wrenched Maggie back, but Adam was already gone.
And behind him was Sam, coming up the drive with his hands in his pockets; hair wind-tousled, expression grave.
"Hey, Sam, Maggie got Adam to call off the dogs!" Dean arranged his somber expression into a grin.
"That's great." Sam's voice was flat, and soft.
Dean looked at him for a second, reading him like a book. "Whelp," Dean stretched. "I'm gonna go get some pudding." He headed for the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.
Sam's gaze lifted to Maggie's, so lost and uncertain that it punched her in the heart. "Mags. We need to talk."