City of Wayward Sons

by ValykirieRevolution

Set in between 5x04 -5x08 and the beginning of City of Ashes. As Sam, Dean, and Castiel struggle to stop the end of days, Clary and the shadowhunters are at a loss to defeat Valentine. After a chance encounter in NYC team free will and the nephilim are forced to work together to save the world. Various pairings and warnings inside.

20. Fistful of glitter

Disclaimer: Don't own, never will.

Warnings: violence, language, in-universe religion smacking, and a few creeper moments.

AN: Don't know much about medicine, cars, or geography.

Word Count: 33,198

Enjoy!

SPNTMI

Chapter 20: Fistful of glitter.

"Go a bit faster please."

"Going as fast as I can."

"Well you need to go faster."

"Look you wanna drive?"

"Actually-"

"Turn ahead!"

Dean swerved sharp at the curve in the road. The blue pick-up truck leaned heavy on the right. Sparks scattered as the truck's side skimmed the guard-rail. Dean jerked the wheel, turning it hard. It strained beneath Dean's hands as he fought to keep it where he wanted it. The wheels on the left side hovered in the air for a moment. Dean angled the truck and it began to tilt back onto the road. Just as the two left wheels touched down, the car behind them rammed the truck's bumper. Truck bed shaking, Dean's hands scrambled to regain control of the steering wheel as they shot forward. A sudden crunch of metal came from somewhere behind. Cas peered out his window.

"I think that was the tailpipe."

"Great." Dean grit out.

Clary clutched her seat belt tighter. "What if we tried to switch lanes, then when the car comes along we swerve-"

"That won't work, they'll just do the same thing."

"But-"

"Just watch-"

Another jolt from behind. Clary lurched as forward as her seat belt would allow. Her head jerking too quick for her to pull back from and the sudden nausea made her see stars. Cas huffed from the impact as he slammed forward, hands bracing on the headrests on Dean and Clary's seats. He wasn't wearing a seat belt. A whine from somewhere behind made Cas and Clary look back as Dean strained forward, eyes on the road. The glare of the other car's headlights shone in the truck's rear window like a lighthouse's beacon. Cas squinted as Clary brought up her hand. The other driver turned their hazard brights on.

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean jerked the steering wheel hard. The truck swerved, twitching in between lanes as Dean cursed. The windshield lit up from reflected light, perfectly illuminating the inside of the truck. The car rammed again and its tires squealed in a long, windy screech. The truckbed groaned and Dean lost control of the wheel. The glaring lights went down, softer and at an angle, so that only the sides and top of the trunk were bright. Dean blinked, hands scrabbling for the steering wheel. The whole truck shuddered as if had come to life, trying to inch its way along without traction. The back end of the truck tilted forward. Cas's palms pressed even deeper into the seats, fingers curling across the material with white knuckles. His feet skimmed the floor. Maellartach and back packs slid off the the backseat. Clary clapped a hand to her mouth, breathing through her nose.

"Are they beneath us?" Cas asked.

Clary nodded, pulling her hand away after a minute. "The front part anyway."

Dean clutched the wheel, cussing up a storm. He peered through the windshield. His eyes widened and Clary followed his line of sight. The road went down to a steep drop, something that flickered red hinted at the edges of their vision below the hill.

"I have an idea." Clary said.

"Shit! Hang on."

Dean grabbed the stick shift, changing gears as they barreled down the hill. The car halfway beneath them fishtailed. Dean paled as their front tires screamed. A sharp crack as the car's windshield began to give.

"What's your idea?" Dean asked.

"This."

Clary opened the glove box, hands swimming inside it before pulling out the silver Beretta 9mm with pearl grips. She waved it with one hand. Dean did a double take.

"Are you serious?" He shouted.

"You drive and I'll shoot."

"Do you even know how to use one?"

"I'll figure it out. We're going too fast for me to use my stele."

"What are-"

"Dean, the bottom of the hill." Cas said.

Cas nodded at the windshield. The flashing red light morphed into a distinct shape as they got closer. A fire truck blocked the road, parked length wise. People hurried around it.

"Why the hell not?" Dean said. "Ok, kid. Shoot when I tell you to."

Clary nodded. She fiddled with the safety. Her fingers gave a little jump as they clicked it off. Dean glowered. He took one hand off the steering wheel just as Cas's hand slipped from the head rest. His palm slapped the horn as Dean prepared the gun for Clary.

"Jesus! Dammit Cas!"

"Dean, we ne-"

Clary fumbled with the gun before gripping tight. Dean twisted the wheel to a hard right, tires thunking into the car's roof.

"Everybody lean forward. Cas, keep your hand on the horn."

The truck tilted just a bit more as the car fishtailed in earnest. Dean grabbed the emergency break and pulled hard. Clary ducked down, undoing her seat belt and crawled over Dean's lap. He grunted, her hands gripping the handle of the gun. The motion freed the truck's tires. The engine squealed as it tried to slow down. The car shot out from under them and Clary sat up. Digging her knee into the inside of his thigh. Dean sucked in a breath, hard as Clary left one hand away from the gun to roll down the window. She put the hand back to the gun. Squinting through the opening of the window, she sucked in a breath. Clary's hands shook as she took the shot. The window cracked, spider webbing as tiny shards pulled loose. Dean shouted, swerving sharply as the car mirrored the movement in the opposite direction. Castiel turned in time to see the car hit a tree, intact for a split second before the front of the car crumpled with a echoing crunch.

Dean still gripped the emergency break, momentum making them still barrel down as Dean's knuckles blanched against the steering wheel in an effort to keep it beneath his hands. They fishtailed, tires screeching, and acrid rubber-smoke curling up through the cab. Clary hung for dear life against the sides of Dean's seat, the gun clattering to the floor some where. Clary's duffle bag smacked into Cas's shoulder as the truck skimmed through the air. The wheels spun, traction-less for seconds before gravity took over and slammed them onto the pavement. Wheels screamed at the impact as the truck shuddered and bounced along the road.

Cas still lay on the horn as they reached the last stretch of the hill. The people surrounding the ambulance and a few other cars littered behind them, scrambled to move out of the truck's path. Clary screamed as the truck leaned far to the left, nearly upending itself as they began to slow. Reaching the bottom of the hill, they skidded to a stop, truck bed parallel and inches from a fire truck and its flashing lights.

People began to cluster around them but Clary could see anyone that remotely looked like a fireman. In fact, they looked normal. If a bit stressed, but normal. In street clothes of thick jackets over flannel. Dirty work boots, jeans, and hoodies. Sharp laughing screams shot through the night. The people raised their weapons higher. Mostly shotguns, but a variety of handguns flashed up. Hatchets and knives. Thick baseball bats, steel pipes, crow bars, even a fire poker.

Cas shifted in his seat, twisting his head to look behind him. Clary struggled with Dean's seat belt.

"Dean." Castiel spat out. "Dean, the demons have gotten out of the car."

"What?" he said in a too loud voice.

Castiel raised his voice higher. "Demons. The demons are coming for us."

"Yeah, when aren't they?"

Dean and Castiel scrambled to get out. Clary dodged Dean's shins, scrambling to sit up. She couldn't see the demons at first. They raced to them with a speed that made Clary unable to control the scream that came out of her mouth. Dean's hands fumbled with a knife and a door handle as Cas was no longer in the backseat. One demon in a bloodied male host got there, bleeding hands outstretched at the windshield. Again, out of her peripheral vision, a man with a fire hose came forward. The thick hose shuddering in his hands. A thick jet of water shot out and hit the demon square in the chest. It flew back, flailing limbs gliding past the car windows, hands screaming and steaming.

The man with the fire hose blasted the demon as it writhed on the ground. Another voice-possibly a man's was shouting something into a loud speaker. Thick columns of black smoke rose up and Dean nodded. He unlocked the door and scrambled out. He twisted out of the way as Clary groaned. She leaned over the seat of the car, still lying on her stomach and threw up. She barely missed Dean's shoes.

"Yeesch, what's with you and vomit?"

"Sorry." she croaked.

"I don't want to do that again." Cas said.

As if to agree with him, something rattled and clanked within the truck and a moment later the bumper from the truck bed detached itself and fell onto the pavement. Clary sat up and grabbed her stele from the glove box and got of of the truck. The red lights from the fire truck pulsed out a steady but frantic wave of color. Men and women didn't quite cluster around the truck. Their backs were too straight and the weapons too sure in their hands. There was a wariness in the eyes all the same as they approached, almost as if they were the frightened civilians. Clary stopped herself from rolling her eyes and snorting. The man in front of them still held the fire hose.

"They'll be back soon." he said. "Come with us if you want to live."

This time it was Dean who snorted. "Really?"

"Really." The man fixed him with a stare. "Hate to break it to you, but this is the Apocalypse."

Dean stated. "How'd you-"

A chorus of laughter stared up from somewhere behind them. An engine revved in response. The heady screech of speeding tires answered back. Cas scowled.

"There are too many for us to take on alone."

He shared a look with Dean. The man frowned, nodding. Almost in unison they turned to the fire hose man.

"Lead the way."

SPNTMI

The truck had to be towed along behind the fire truck, thick cables roped around the fender. The truck's wheels skimming the ground, that for some reason, reminded Clary of a limping dog. She was now riding in the fire truck in its tiny backseat on the far left, with Cas sandwiched in between Dean and herself. Dean was talking to the man who had used the fire hose. It turned out his name was Pedro.

"I just can't get over how you know about demons. I mean, you guys aren't hunters and this isn't something that Joe Mechanic knows."

Pedro laughed. "I see your point, but times are changing and we've got to change with em'."

The driver, James looked over the three in his rear view mirror. "What he means to say is that we just found out about this ourselves. Not too sure what its like in other towns, but as far as we can tell, the whole county is overrun." he shook his head. "Never seen anything like it."

"What did you use to do before this?" Clary asked.

"I was a gym teacher." James frowned. "Now I hunt demons."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, ain't that the way the cookie crumbles." He gave Cas a brief look before staring back at the two men. "So...why did demons come after you're town?"

Pedro and James shared a look. Pedro laughed.

"Probably has to do with-"

James glared. "Don't worry your pretty head nothin', we'll get there soon enough."

Dean glared but said noting and Clary tightened her grip on her stele.

SPNTMI

The town was small and in the early morning light, gave off a feeling of desolation. Deserted streets except for the cars that still waited to be reclaimed by their owners. They were let in from a gate and Clary gave a little start at the sound of it shutting behind them. Many streets were fenced off and the small caravan of cars the followed them all turned down what Clary assumed to be the main street.

A church loomed up, stain glass windows somehow foggy even with the depiction of the angel within them. Clary shivered and a small tendril of calm washed over her. She smiled and gave the sensation right back. Clary peered out the windows of the truck, craning her neck to see a young woman standing outside the church. Her white dress billowed out around her legs, knees reddened and shiny. Mary-Janes or some other type of black flats. Clary could have sworn she saw a ribbon in the thick, curly blonde hair, but maybe it was the wind.

She frowned. Was she smiling? She looked like she was smiling, like she could see Clary from inside the glass of the interior of the firetruck's cab. The girl only wore a light jacket, but then they turned down the street and she could no longer see the girl.

They turned down a few more streets, until they went down a single lane road and the trees became thicker. Trees that cluttered together in random clumps. She peered out to see the beginnings of a forest as the town meandered out of focus. They turned into a long driveway, gravel spraying out in all directions from thick tires.

What Clary mistook for some kind of trailer was in fact a garage, its door raised up to a third of the way. A couple of cars stood out amongst the clutter. A handmade sign leaned against a post. The words: 'Ben's Garage' in bold red and blue spray-painted onto the sheet metal. Clary peered forward to see a mid-sizable cabin a bit farther back from the garage. A couple of trees obscured her view. A fenced off patch of land settled on the right. She could have sworn she saw something move around in there. A couple of chickens or maybe a goat.

A man came out from the garage. He was in jeans and a flannel shirt. His thick boots plodding over the gravel. He wiped his hands on a rag from his pockets as he went to meet them. The firetruck rumbled to a halt, its wheels spraying out the debris of the driveway. The truck swayed a bit as they made the turn. James and Pedro opened the their doors and swung out. Pedro rapped her window. Clary opened hers just as Dean did his. He slid out of the backseat and Cas followed suit.

Clary slid down out of the seat, boots touching the gravel. She frowned, one hand at her temple and another gripping the door. She shut her eyes firmly against the sudden wave of dizziness. Clary unclenched her teeth and the pain in her head lessened. She turned to her left to see that Dean and Cas were standing side by side, jacket enclosed arms brushed up against each other.

James and Pedro and the other man, went over. The man introduced himself as the Ben from the sign. He shook hands with all of them, including Clary. They walked over to the truck. Ben whistled.

"Really did a number, eh?"

Dean laughed. "Tell me about it."

"Alright I will." Ben gave another laugh.

Ben peered underneath the truck bed, cheek inches from where the tailpipe used to be. A new smudge came onto his face. He stood up. Ben and Dean went back to the front of the truck and Ben lifted the hood. Cas hovered by them as the two men took a look. As they murmured to themselves, James and Pedro were unhooking the truck from the firetruck.

Clary looked between the two duos of men and Cas, who seemed just as adrift as she was at the moment. She caught snatches of Dean and Ben's conversation.

"Shit, ya the tranny's gone."

"I had a feeling it was."

"Tranny?" Clary mouthed.

Pedro, who saw, said "Transmission gearbox."

Ben nodded despite not looking up from the hood. "Yup yup yup. Basically makes the wheels move and let's ya shift the gears. Kinda need it." He gave wheezy chuckle.

"Speaking of, got the necessary parts?" Dean asked.

Ben rubbed his chin. "Some of them. Course a lot of it depends on what we can get from the other towns when we go out."

"We?" Cas said.

Ben nodded. "Ya, it's really tricky to find parts the way things are right now."

"That and you'll have to earn your keep around here." James put it.

Clary gave a small laugh and tilted her head. Dean's frown was brief and seemed more confused than affronted.

"Yeah, don't worry, I planned on fixing her myself." Dean said. "And we'll be outta your hair in no time."

Pedro turned back to them. "Well ya'll be welcome to stay. Most out-of-towners usually do."

"Out-of-towners?" Clary asked.

"Ya." James said.

"We're gonna be movin' on as soon as the truck is finished." Dean said.

"You're more than welcome to stay here while you do that." Ben said. "I take a lot of out-of-towners before they go. I could use a hand with the shop."

"Sure thing."

Dean and Ben shook hands.

SPNTMI

Cracks of harsh light forced her to open her eyes. Clary pushed herself up off the mattress, elbows shaking. The blanket that was nailed up as a curtain from the windows let in a few strands of light. The room was dim otherwise. Clary rubbed her eyes, letting them adjust. Books were stacked in little towers all over the floor. She had picked up a copy of 'Shakespeare for beginners' from the top of a stack last night. Clary found it by her feet at the edge of the bed in the morning. The bed was really two large mattresses held up by milk crates and thick boxes. The headboard wasn't attached to the mattresses but supported by its own frame. A large mirror was in its center and a crack spider webbed in a corner from the right.

It was by far the largest piece of furniture in the room. A dresser sat across from it nearest to the door. The dark wood gleamed in some places as dust swirled in the air. Some of the drawers were open a crack, bits of clothing peeking through. A sweater here, a piece of denim there. On the nightstand on the left of the bed frame, were a few glasses of water half full. Clary pulled back the covers, groan escaping from her teeth.

She wiped her forehead, eyes widening at the sweat that slicked her hand. Her stomach clenched in protest as she sat up. Skin seemed taunt and stretched too thin across her body. It took her a moment to realize that she was clenching her teeth. Clary opened her mouth, the saliva too sweet in her mouth. The crust at her eyes prickled her eyelashes and she rubbed her eyes again. Greasy strands of hair brushed at her face. Clary gave a little shiver. She looked up. No, the ceiling fan wasn't running. None of the car posters fluttered from a draft. Shrugging, Clary found her pants that she left on the floor and tugged them on. She finished getting dressed in silence.

Clary turned to see a door on the far left. She jiggled the knob and looked into a bathroom. Pale pinkish-white walls and creamy tiles. An overflowing hamper in the corner by the door. A hook held a single ratty towel and the bathtub had a few rings around its drain. Strands of dark hair clung to the sides of the tub. Clary cradled the shower head in her palm. It wiggled a bit but the nozzle stayed in place. She gave a little smile. Clary moved back into the room, opened the door, and went out into the hall. It was just as cluttered in the living room as it was in the guest bedroom. Books stacked wherever there was a space. Old toolboxes, crates with various odds and ends, and what looked like old tack gear. Clary picked up a book about farming techniques, and gave it a brief flip through before putting it back next to the book about horse breeding.

A quick peek in the kitchen showed dishes piled high amongst boxes of old take out and pizza. A pile of maps and what looked like blueprints cluttered the kitchen table. The thin out outline of car bodies in white lines. She tilted her head, pushing the blueprints aside in favor of the maps. A few towns were circled in red, with arrows pointing the freeway symbols. The town map of Harmony, Minnesota staring up at her. Blue X's littered the map. One in particular blocked off a long side street that eventually led to a county road. Clary frowned.

She went outside through the kitchen's back door. The screen door closed behind her with a tinny bang but no one came to investigate. The backyard was spacious, with no real dividing lines except for a small section fenced in with chicken wire. A little garden inside it. A few chickens and a couple of goats milled around. An outhouse stood a ways off, splashes of blue paint against otherwise bare wood. Edges of woods close by, trees clumped together. Car parts strewn about the dying grass. Cars themselves, rusted and worn stood silent in their places. Clary peered into their windows, empty seats clean of debris.

Her boots crunched on dead leaves, their colors finally starting to dull into brown. It was quiet. She stood in a sea of cars. A bird chirped from far away. In the still chill air she breathed deep, ignoring the sudden ache in her chest. It was like she was the only person alive under the great gray sky. Shuddering, she turned and walked to the front where she caught the strain of voices.

"Pass me the socket wrench will ya?"

"The what?"

"The socket wrench."

"Uh...this one?"

"Yeah, thanks." Dean cleared his throat. "So uh this could take awhile."

"I figured. Didn't you say this was an important part of the engine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, and it figures it would get busted. Right when we need to haul ass. Find Sam."

"Yeah. Dean, we'll find him."

Dean gave a short, sharp laugh.

"Really." Cas said. "I know it may seem like cold comfort, but I know he wouldn't die so easily."

"Not as easily as other folks huh? Might as well as gift wrapped them to Lucifer-" He scoffed, a deep scratching noise from the back of his throat." "Should've-"

"Should've what? Had the gift of foresight? How were any of us supposed to know what Lucifer had been planning to do?" Cas stepped closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean. "What happened in Idris wasn't your fault."

Dean didn't reply but stared at Cas, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes hard and glittering. Cas stared back, eyes too bright and wide. Clary cleared her throat. Dean jumped, Shoulders jolting as he sprang back from Cas, his hands trembling as they brushed the pockets of Cas's trench coat. Cas himself blinked as if coming out of a long sleep and he stared at Dean and then Clary out of the corner of his eye. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before dropping his hand. She got closer to the two. They kept staring at her.

"Cas is right. There's no way you could have known. That anyone could have known." She sighed. "So, we gotta get to Sam right?"

"No matter what."

"Well then tell me the date."

Dean blinked. "Oh...November 21st. Why?"

She shrugged. "Just curious. If we want to leave-"

A long metallic shudder made her stop. The garage door was trembling up and down. Ben fiddled with the cord that controlled the door. It gave another screeching heave and it didn't quite drown out Ben's cursing.

"How long do you think this will take?" Clary asked.

Dean gave a little hum as Clary and Cas cast glances at him. "Probably about a week."

"Really?"

Dean nodded. "Getting all the parts is gonna take the most time." He huffed. "It'd be better to just get a new ride altogether."

"No."

Clary started at just how firm her voice was. Bright and sharp in her throat was the sound that came up and formed the word that shot out from her mouth. Dean gave a slow little rock back on his heels and rested on his haunches. The wrench in his hand is limp and shining. It's his hands that have the grease marks. His green eyes sparked in a way she wasn't sure she understood. Cas tilted his head, a little frown on his face. He kept staring and she sucked in a breath.

"I-it's just that this is Luke's truck." she cleared her throat. "Was Luke's truck."

Dean's eyes cleared. "I'll see what I can do, but no promises."

"That's all I ask."

Ben's voice cut through the air in a wordless shout. All three looked up to see Ben waving his arms, waving them over. Dean set down his tool as Cas's hands balled into fists for a moment before relaxing. Clary wobbled a moment, hands gripping the sides of the truck, and then when her vision cleared, followed the two men. Jogging to the garage, she watched Ben fiddle with a CB radio. It crackled as voices buzzed back and forth. Ben gripped the handle of the device, thumb pressed down on the button as he replied back. The trio clustered around Ben, who sat on a swivel stool, hunched over the radio. Clary rubbed her arms as Cas and Dean exchanged glances.

"What is your location?"

"On route now." A voice replied.

"Headed my way?"

"Yes. We'll need all the hands we can get."

"Will do. Stand by."

Ben swiveled around in his stool to face them. His mouth was set in a firm line, eyebrows drawn down tight over his forehead. Their bushiness spiked around bloodshot blue eyes. His mustache bristled over very pink lips. After a moments regard, he nodded to the radio.

"They need you."

Dean nodded and Ben returned the gesture. Ben turned back into the radio and spoke into the receiver.

"Swing on by."

"Will do. Be ready. Over."

Ben put the receiver down. He stood up. "Grab your gear. I have a few things that you're more than welcome to use."

"Thanks."

The two men, one angel, and young woman scrambled around the garage. Cas followed Dean to the truck and grabbed a duffle bag from the truck bed. Clary patted her pockets, finding her stele in her jacket pocket. Jogging to the glove compartment, her hands groping inside for her seraph blade. Her fingers slipped against the chill tube of metal until Clary got enough of a grip to yank it out and out in the pocket opposite of her stele.

Dean was handling a shot gun just as a white van pulled up. Ben rushed out, hands gripping something that dangled out from his fingers. The sliding door from the van rolled back with a slam. Ben tossed the trio what was in his hand. Clary let an intricately carved pendant hang in between her fingertips. Odd letters scrawled in a looping script across a crude wooden disc. Ithuriel shuddered inside her and Clary sent a wave of calm in response.

"They're charms to ward against demons." Ben said.

The occupants inside the van shouted, waving their arms. Ben gave them the thumbs up gesture and then gestured to the trio.

"Go go go go." To the van, "I'll be on standby, channel two."

Clary shrugged, putting the charm in the pocket of her jeans and hurried after Dean and Cas. As soon as both feet were inside, the door was slammed shut behind her. Tiny swirls of air fluttered around her boots as the door skimmed past her jeans. The van roared forward and Clary rocked back, only to have a pair of arms reach out and steady her.

"Easy there."

A matronly woman sat across from her, balanced on her haunches. A rifle leaned on her shoulder and a first aid kit rested between her feet. Clary scooted closer to her, as the woman's hand still hovered by Clary's shoulders. When she got close enough, the woman lowered her arm to shake Clary's hand.

"Bess Saunders. Head medic of the Episcopalian Church Militia."

"Clary Fray."

"Good to know you." She gave a little smile. "And since I'm short staffed, you'll be with me."

"I will?"

Bess gestured to the small group of armed people huddled in the van. Everyone squatted, hands on their weapons or to steady someone beside them. An even mix of men and women, all with an expression of dread to a varying degree. The only one who looked the least bit enthused was a young man shaking Dean's hand with a vigorous motion. His stage whisper carried all the way in the van.

"Kelly Maher. Man, it's an honor to meet a real hunter, sir."

Dean groaned. "Ah, kid-"

"No, seriously. It's a real morale boost to know that we've got professionals on our side."

Cas cleared his throat and a man on his near left shook his head.

"Ignore Kelly. He's a little too gung ho for his own good."

Kelly wilted for just a moment, casting a glance to Dean from beneath his eyelashes. Dean suppressed an eye roll.

"We all used to be rookies once." He ground out.

Kelly brightened, gaze going back and forth between Dean and Cas. The shine didn't dim from his eyes despite the wary glances Dean and Cas kept exchanging. He kept chattering to the two of them until another man interrupted Kelly to address Dean and Cas.

"The two of you are with us. We're a little...understaffed at the moment."

"And Clary?" Cas asked.

"Bess?" The man called.

"Yes?"

"Is Clary with you?" He asked.

"Yes." Bess addressed Dean and Cas. "I'll take good care of her."

Dean stared at her for a few moments, but she met his gaze evenly. He nodded to Cas, who was looking at Clary, who gave her own little nod to the angel. Cas's attention was then pulled back to Kelly, who leaned forward to engage with Cas as soon as eye contact was made. Clary watched for a moment before turning back to Bess.

"So..." She cleared her throat. "What is it exactly that I'm supposed to do?"

Bess smiled. "We're to provide support and remove the wounded from the field. If we can that is." She put a hand on Clary's shoulder again. "Just follow my lead and you'll do just fine."

"Right."

The radio from the front of the van crackled, static sharp in the cramped air. The van made a turn and Clary and Cas lurched a little bit more than the others. Clary shut her eyes tight against a moment of queasiness. Bess grip tightened on her shoulders and Clary opened her eyes to see a look of concern.

"You ok?"

Clary gave a shaky exhale and nodded. Bess set her jaw in assent, but her eyes seemed determined and curious. The van stopped. A woman behind Clary opened the sliding door. She got out first and motioned for the others. People got out in pairs. Dean and Cas came out third, with Kelly and the man who scolded him earlier. Clary and Bess emerged last. Bess gave a thumbs up to the woman who opened the door. Both woman adjusted their respective radio phones.

"Channel three." The woman said.

"Roger that." Bess said.

"Good luck out there."

"You too."

The woman turned the safety off of her rifle. Bess adjusted her pack and handed a bulky first aid kit to Clary. Bess eyed Clary up and down before taking a knife out of her pack and strapping it to Clary's boot. Without a word, Bess turned and jogged forward. Clary took off after her.

The fog settled in thicker, but the sound of Bess's boots told Clary where she was. She huffed, trying to keep pace. Clary tried to wipe the sweat from her forehead, but had to lower it as Bess sped up. Clary got to Bess's side. Leaves fluttered around her feet. They crouched behind a tree. Clary's heart pounded. Shapes slunk through the fog and Clary's heart beat even faster. She turned to look at the older woman. Bess put a finger to her lips and pointed to the lawn in front of them.

"It's the others." She whispered.

Even with Bess's mouth pressed against Clary's ear, she still strained to hear.

"We stay in the rear." She said.

"So we're a defensive line?" Clary asked.

"Yes. But we have to inch closer if we see any injured." She paused. "Or, one of us will while the other holds the line."

"Ok."

Clary shivered inside her jacket. The air had not warmed and the gray sky did not brighten. She could just make out a cabin a few hundred feet away from them. A few dull flashes from the weaponry of their group came and went. Clary wiped the sweat from her forehead and the palms of her hands on her jeans. The air stilled. Soft crunching sounds came from ahead of them, a light echo made her head spin. Clary felt in her pockets for her stele and seraph blade. She tightened her grip on them. A falling leaf brushed her hair and she jumped.

A scream bolted through the air before cutting off just as a gunshot rent the air. Bess and Clary lifted their heads up. A flash illuminated the surroundings. Clary caught a glimpse of Dean shooting a large man with black eyes. Kelly was kneeling on the ground, hands red and bare. A flurry of gunshots as more demons surged around a cluster of people. Kelly rose up, limbs in a crazy sweeping motion as he picked up the hatchet. A trio of demons surrounded Cas, their hands empty but eyes full of hate. Kelly and Dean turned. Dean rushed forward in the same moment that Kelly flung his hatchet.

Clary gasped as the hatchet skimmed past Dean's jaw and buried itself in the back of the demon nearest Cas. It dropped at the angel's feet. Dean rushed to the two remaining demons, feinting to the side. Cas darted to the side, body checking the demon nearest to him. He stabbed the demon in the throat before it could fall. It lit up from the inside for a brief moment before crumpling to the ground. The remaining demon snarled as the second one struggled forward. It stood up and whirled to face Kelly.

The boy's eyes widened. The third demon moved at the same time Dean did. Dean began shouting at Kelly. Kelly shook his head and Dean gave another shout. Cas dashed to assist Dean as the last demon darted back and forth between them. The first demon charged at Kelly. Kelly bolted.

Clary stood up straighter. Spine stiffened and legs cramped. She swayed, giving breathy little pants. They were headed right for them. Kelly, with his legs pumping and arms flailing. Bess was shouting but the words were garbled to Clary. Kelly stumbled away from the demon's outstretched arms. He tumbled down the slight incline, scrabbling by Clary's feet. The demon shot forward. Bess sat up, one knee firmly on the ground as she bent the other. Gripping her rifle tight, she aimed at an angle and hit the demon right in the chest. It flung backwards from the force and landed on its back, feet hitting Kelly's sneakers. He shouted, voice almost covering up the squelching of the ax further digging into the demon's back. Bess began to chant.

The language both commanding and strangely lilting, Clary shuddered as Ithuriel squirmed. Black smoke poured from the demon's mouth. The throat seemed to choke all on its own, limbs twitching before going still. Bess sighed. She slackened for a moment as Kelly sat back up. Clary panted. The exorcism still rattled around in her ears. Bess took another breath and she gripped her gun tight.

"Kelly grab your ax. This fight isn't over yet. Clary patch him up before he moves out. I'll cover you two."

"Ah ok." Clary tugged at Kelly's sleeves. "Where you hurt?"

Kelly gave a little shrug. "Can't feel much of anything right now." He let out a shaky laugh. "Cept' my heart. Jesus."

"Yeah, yeah I feel ya."

Clary and Kelly went over to the felled demon, turning it over onto its stomach. The hatchet buried deep in the back. Blood still welled up, dribbling down the striped shirt. Thick copper tang clogged up Clary's nose and her head swam. She choked, bile crawling up her throat. Clary paused, hands slapped over her mouth. Taking several deep breaths from her nose, Clary willed her muscles to move. She looked over at Kelly and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and gripped his arm.

"On three ok?"

"Yeah."

They counted in unison. Kelly's hands shook as he grabbed the handle. Clary steadied the shoulders. Her neck prickled, protesting at the stiff way it was held. The face of the dead host stared out of her peripheral vision. Droplets of sweat plopped down onto the dead man's face, pooling in the hairs on his chin. Kelly's shoulders shook as he wrestled with the ax's handle. The shoulders jutted from side to side and Clary's knees knocked about as she tried to keep the body pinned underneath her grip. Her teeth chattering, Clary threw her whole weight into the shoulders, and the spasms lessened. They trembled up around her as she leaned down.

Kelly managed to pull the ax free and the body jolted up. Clary pulled up with a shriek, nearly smacking into the man's forehead. Kelly and Clary backed away. She led him behind the tree she and Bess originally hid behind.

"Ok, where are you hurt?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Umm...I think I'm alright. Just some cuts."

"Here let me see."

She grabbed his hands and turned them over. The blood had concealed enough for her to see the cuts that crisscrossed along his palms. Clary winced and went for the first aid kit. The mini water bottle went first and Kelly watched her pour it on his hands. Water came away pink and the cuts clear. Clary grabbed the antiseptic, unscrewing the cap. Another scream shot through the air. Clary jumped, splashing the iodine all over Kelly's hands. Kelly gave a little yelp, pulling his hands away as Clary pulled back.

"Sorry."

"It's ok, just-"

A snatch of laughter carried over the response of the exorcisms. Clary dropped the antiseptic back in the kit and fished for the needle and thread. A column of black smoke spiraled up into the air, veering in their direction. Bess shouted out more of the exorcism chant. Fingers trembling, she managed to get the thread into thin loop of the needle before dropping it in a pile of leaves. Clary's hands darted for the thread, pushing aside piles of leaves. Her fingers wriggled in the chilly dirt. The black smoke swooped low, a screeching keening echoing in her ears. Clary flung her hands out of the leaves and went to her pockets.

She fumbled for her stele. Clary pulled it out of her pocket at the same moment the demon smoke shot down to meet them. Kelly yelled, scrambling for the hatchet as Clary dived for him. She covered him with her arms, shoulder hovering over his head. Her fist gripping her stele hovered over Kelly's hands. The smoked brushed her hair. The smell of rot and the sound of laughter surrounding her. Clary gritted her teeth.

Fury rose up in her, flooding her limbs. Head spinning, she gripped her stele tighter, heat flowing from her arm into the slim stick. From far off, Kelly yelped, but Clary's awareness melted into anger. In her mind's eyes wings were shooting up, ready to take flight. Her back cracked, flinging her head up. She stared up at the faces in the smoke. Tiny pinching mouths, screaming twists of hair and fingers. Clary caught the look of surprise before the smoke was flung back, spiraling back upwards and darting away.

The fury left as quickly as it came. Clary slumped, hands unclenching and she pulled away from Kelly. He blinked, looking around. Clary panted, shoving her stele back into her pocket just as Kelly looked down at their hands. She leaned back and Kelly whistled.

"Oh thank God that's over." he gave a strange little laugh. "Man, if it wasn't for you, I'd be a goner." He stared at her, brown eyes big and wobbling. "Seriously thank you."

Clary flushed. "No big deal, really. You'd have done the same."

Now it was Kelly's turn to flush. He looked down at his hands. A split second frown before his eyes widened. Stars burst in Clary's vision as her chest ached in tandem with her back. Some deep ache she couldn't describe, couldn't tell where it began of ended.

"Are you alright?" She asked Ithuriel.

"Weary but unharmed. You?"

"The same."

"My hands." Kelly said.

Clary blinked. "What?"

"My hands." He held them up. "Look."

Clary glanced at them and then did a double take. His palms were red, almost like they were minor burns but there were no cuts. Only light lines where there would have been cuts. Almost like a faded shadowhunter scar. She grabbed his hands, twisting them back and forth, thumbs pressing into his palms.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. It's a miracle." he whispered.

"I..."

"Are you ok?"

Clary's head buzzed. "We're ok."

Kelly blinked. "Yeah...yeah we are." He laughed. "We're ok."

SPNTMI

The van rattled as the CB radio chattered back and forth with the man in the passenger seat. The number of people had been lessened by two, with only about five injured. Ben's voice crackled across the radio waves, voice sharp and tense. Man in the passenger seat relayed the information to the man behind him. The man partnered with Kelly was speaking.

"Alright listen up. We've taken care of one area now we need to take care of another. It's near the east half of the old highway roundabout. Since we'll have to go back through town, we'll drop off the wounded and resupply."

"The wounded go with me." Bess said. To Clary she said, "You'll be coming with me. I'll need the extra hands."

"Sure thing."

Kelly's partner turned to Dean. "You and your friend are still needed with us." To Kelly he said, "You'll go with Bess to get checked out."

"But-"

"Enough. Father won't be pleased if you are badly hurt."

Kelly glanced at Dean and Cas. "I can handle it. Please."

"We'll take out a few for you." Dean said.

Kelly frowned for a moment before nodding. "Alright I guess. I mean if it'll put you guys at ease." He brightened. "Oh, I know Dad's gonna wanna thank you guys. Come back with the rest of them, instead of going back to Ben's."

"Dad?" Dean asked.

Kelly's partner smiled. "Father Maher. He's our shepard in our fight against evil. He really will want to thank you."

"Uh right." Dean said.

The van took another sharp turn and went down the town's main street before making yet another turn and stopping in front of a church. The door woman opened the sliding door. Bess and Clary herded the ones who could walk out of the van. Kelly adjusted his pack, waved at Dean and Cas, and jumped out of the van. People streamed out of the church. Men and women with rifles rushed to the van. A man in black with a small square of white at his collar hovered by the doors of the church, eyes darting. The priest. A woman beside was clutching his arm, tendons standing out in her wrists. Probably his wife.

They spotted Kelly. The woman squeezed the man's shoulder before waving her arms. Kelly turned and saw them. He gave a little smile. They both smiled back and the man gave Kelly a little nod.

"Help me with him." Bess said.

"Right. I can grab his feet." Clary replied.

Together they hoisted the only wounded man who was unconscious. Clary went out first, head turning far enough for her neck to crick as she shuffled backwards out the van. Her boots floundered for a moment as they hovered over the air for a second. Her boot hit the ground with a thump.

"Gently, gently." Bess said.

Clary set her other foot down much slower and shuffled back to let Bess out of the van. When they got clear of the van, a trio of women slid into the van. They called out greetings to Bess and the others returning. Clary eyed the pavement, a devil's trap spray painted on the walkway. As she passed over it, her muscles gave a little twitch. She sent a calming wave to Ithuriel. Others gave them a wide berth as they went inside. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kelly embrace the priest and his wife.

In the church doors, Bess directed them. They moved past pews and into a side door on the left by the front of the alter. The hall was long and led them to a kitchenette and a dining hall. A few teenagers were using the stove. An elderly man was putting food onto plates. In the dining hall children were either cleaning guns or preparing bullets. A few adults supervised them, walking between the rows of tables to check on their progress.

"First door on the right."

Clary fumbled with the doorknob and scuttled inside. The lights were already on, fluorescent giving off a quiet hum. It probably used to be a break room. A slim table was in the center, as though it had been brought in from another room a small circular table next to it. A cot shoved up against a wall opposite a sink with a counter. The counter was cluttered with things that wouldn't look out of place in a lab of some kind. The only things Clary readily recognized was a microscope and test tube rack. A microwave was stacked on top of a mini fridge. A lone poster of the Virgin Mary decorated the walls, hands open and imploring. Delicate cursive of a psalm in between her hands and by the folds of her gown.

"Set him on the table."

Clary and Bess set the man on the table. He gave a small little groan. The paper shield guard crinkled underneath his body. Bess set down her pack and Clary took her first aid kit.

"He'll need stitches." Can you patch him up while I test for responsiveness?"

"Sure."

Clary cleaned the wound, put the thread through the needle, and after a moment's hesitation put the needle into the skin. Clary swallowed as the skin gave protest with a slight puckering noise. The thread snicked inside the hole from the needle. The gash rang length wise from elbow just above the wrist, but the flesh gave minimal resistance. The two sides of open skin pressed back together under the command of thick black stitching. Dots of blood welled where the needle pricked. Clary wiped away any blood with a wet towel before finishing the stitches. Bess handed her a roll of bandages and some tape.

As soon as they finished with him, Bess directed them to more patients. They patched up a majority of them in the dining hall. Children too small to help with the guns or cooking raced around the tables or the legs of any adults too busy to shoo them away. A few kids stopped in their games to stare at Clary, peering up at her with big eyes. One little girl came to her with scraped knees. Clary set her down on a chair. She washed the ruddy knees, patting the little bumps when the girl keened. Her dark waxy hair swaying as she shook her head when Clary applied antiseptic cream. She insisted on the Hello Kitty band aids. Clary smiled at the shy 'thank you' before she dashed off with her friends. They were lucky that only a few needed to lie down. Clary didn't bother to keep track of the time. At a lull, Clary leaned against a long table.

Bandages and a lone can of Pepsi brushed her fingers as she kept the palms of her hands flat on table. She gave another shaky breath before reaching for a pile of napkins. Clary wiped her forehead. Bess cleared her throat. Clary looked back to see the older woman stared back with an eyebrow raised.

"Right. Time for your examination."

"What?"

"Proper procedure for out-of-towners." Bess gave a little frown. "Everyone gets examined."

"Oh...ok."

Bess's shoulders relaxed and Clary realized the woman was tenser than she initially realized. Bess gestured to go back the break room with a sweep of her hand. Clary followed her in the old break room. First Bess recorded Clary's BMI and vision.

"Ok go ahead and sit down on the table."

Clary obeyed. She adjusted, shuffling in her seat. Paper beneath her crinkled and she sound made her rub her arms. Bess grabbed her stethoscope, blood pressure pump, and a few other things. She tested Clary's reflexes.

"I'm going to do the basics and ask you some questions."

"Ok. Shoot."

Bess smiled. She grabbed a slim penlight and flashed it in Clary's eyes. Her eyes followed.

"Have you been sick recently?"

Clary nodded. "Pretty bad. All three of us were, but I think I'm the only one still not over it."

Bess gave a little hum. She replaced the penlight with a stethoscope. She moved away a part of Clary's shirt, and Clary slid down the rest of the flannel to her elbows. Bess scooted closer to Clary and tugged her stethoscope close. Clary shivered when its metal touched her chest.

"Ok breath in, deep breaths...now breath out. Good."

Bess frowned, turning the scope over to Clary's back and repeating the process.

"Ok your breathing is a little labored. Your heart is beating faster than it should. Do you feel any tightness in your chest?"

Clary shrugged. "Kind of. Like, I get dizzy and have headaches. It's not really painful per se, I just feel...ugh."

"Alright, Well I'm going to check your blood pressure now."

Bess replaced the stethoscope with the blood pressure valve pump. A long patch of Velcro from the strap that Bess was currently winding around Clary's arm. A small, compass like instrument adhered to the strap. The thing black tube that ended in the pump was in Bess's fist, being worked by the older woman's thick hand. The pressure squeezed Clary's arm, pins and needles sensation running all the way down her fingertips. Her shoulders gave a little slump when the pressure lifted, but Bess looked at her reading with a frown.

"What?"

"This is a little odd for someone of your size."

Bess repeated the process and got the same result. Clary tilted her head. Bess replaced the blood pressure kit with a thermometer. She too Clary's temperature. Her frown deepened and Clary held back from asking.

"How persistent does this temperature feel?"

"A couple of days I think."

"Right well, I'm going to take a blood sample for testing. Rule out anything serious."

"O-ok."

Bess grabbed a needle and syringe. Clary only looked out of the corner of her eye as Bess tied off her forearm and took a swatch of rubbing alcohol in the inside of her forearm. Bess Slid the needle into Clary's forearm and Clary turned her head away entirely. She sucked in a breath.

"We're almost done."

A sharp rap on the door was the only warning before it opened. Clary jumped, the thin needle wiggling inside her. Bess didn't move, drawing the blood from her without looking as she glanced up to see who had interrupted. It was the priest. She finally got a good look at him now that she could.

He was definitely Kelly's father. It was a clear blueprint for how the young man would one day age. The same jawline, thick and defined. Cheekbones that could go on for days, although on the Father, they were getting a bit thick. His hair had a streak of gray in otherwise brown hair. The build was of a man slightly gone to seed. Broad shoulders that seemed smaller by his black garb. Said cassock hid with was probably a lithe frame, with only age to hinder it. A five o' clock shadow made him seem older than he was, despite the crow's feet and laugh lines on his face.

"Sorry for the interruption." Brown eyes winked back at her.

Bess gave a little huff. "Not too sorry I take it." She gave a little laugh. "Wanted to see the out-of-towners for yourself?"

"You see right through me, as always." He smiled. To Clary he said, "I'm Father Duncan Maher. It's nice to meet one of the people who saved my son's life. You have my gratitude and my debt."

Clary flushed. "I'm Clary Fray. It's nice to meet you too. It's no big deal. He's pretty brave."

Father Maher's smile brightened. "That he is. I just saw your two friends. Just thought I'd let you know, you're invited to dinner with us. I came to pick you two up if you're done."

Bess nodded. "That we are."

Clary looked back down at her arm to see that the needle had been removed and a small lump of cotton wrapped in gauze had taken its place. She blinked.

"Wow I didn't even feel that."

Bess laughed. "You're welcome."

Clary adjusted her shirt and hopped off the table. Father Maher have a small 'after you' gesture and Clary exited first. She looked back to see Bess put the vial of her blood the small refrigerator before following her out.

SPNTMI

The table was laid out for exactly seven. At least three meats. Ham, turkey, and pork. The platters were spacious, juices pooled in the dips in the plate. The meat saturated in glaze. A few slices of pineapple on roast ham. Slim turkey in precise cuts and piled to the sides of the plates. A small plate of sliced apples next to the platter of pork. The carver and knives gleamed in the low light from the chandelier above them. Salad tongs shimmered amongst the crisp green leaves and chunky croutons. At least three different dressings. Ranch, Italian, Thousand Island. A plate of corn of the cob, still buttery and steaming. The prongs at each end of the corn already pressed in. On the left, a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes. A dish that indented three ways held three kinds of rice. White, Spanish, and Cajun-style. Asparagus and apple sauce were put side by side. Biscuits and butter, all golden and crisp sat on a blue patterned china. A couple pitchers of tea were on each side of the table.

Father Maher sat at the head of the table. His hands clasped together, wrists balancing the table's edge. His wife, Marcia Maher was smoothing her napkin down on her lap. She sat on Father Maher's right and on his left was the younger girl Clary saw the other day. Father Maher gave a small smile.

"Alright, look like some introductions are in order. For those who don't know," He gave a little laugh. "Father Duncan Maher. My wife Marcia, my...youngest son Kelly. And this pretty girl is our daughter Alice."

Marcia scowled at the mention of the youngest son, but said nothing. Alice gave a little smile, cheeks bright and pink. She ducked her head and stared at the guests out of the corner of her eye. Father Maher gave an indulgent smile in her direction, eyes soft as her stared at her hair ribbon.

"And how could I forget our Bess Sauders. The best nurse I've ever seen."

Bess, who was seated next to Clary, gave her own little laugh. She gave a mock salute.

"And her new assistant Clary Fray and her two friends Dean and Cas."

Dean gave a little nod and Cas watched the gesture before mimicking it. Dean shifted in his seat. Cas didn't quite mimic the gesture but his eyes swept around the table. Everyone murmured pleasantries.

"Shall we say grace?" Father Maher. "Who wants to do the honors?"

"Can I?" Alice asked.

Father Maher beamed. "Of course you can sweetheart."

"Our Father full of grace, bless this bounty that you have given us. Praise be in Your name for all things in this house, with this company, and our table."

She looked up at the rest of table and smiled. Clary sat up straighter. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Cas tilt his head at Dean's half smile. The candlelight made her eyes look amber. Her smile didn't leave her face. The china clattered together with tinny applause as cutlery scraped against the plates. Cas looked around the table, watching everyone pile their plates high with food. Clary darted to Cas's plate but Bess kept her included in the conversation between herself and Marcia. Dean gave Cas a little nudge. Dean pointed with his fork to the spread of food. Cas watched as Dean started helping himself to seconds of turkey and ham. Cas followed suit. Slim hands fiddled with the silverware before putting them in a familiar position. Cas eyed the way Dean cut his meat and kept glancing at his own plate. He took a bite of ham in slow deliberate mouthfuls before swallowing.

The chatter was a kind of easy quiet, no less animated, but still at ease. Clary tried to be discreet as she sniffed at her chicken before lifting it to her mouth. Kelly kept trying to catch Dean's eye, although the man was more or less keeping his glance neutral around the table. He drew up his eyes to Alice. She gave him a beatific smile he sheepishly returned. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. When he finally dropped his gaze away Father Maher was staring at him.

"Oh, before I forget," Bess said, "I need to examine you boys. Its protocol for out-of-towners."

"Examine?" Dean said.

"Protocol." Bess repeated.

Dean was silent for a moment. "If you say so." he said.

"I do." Bess smiled. "So I'll have to take a supply run."

"Alright. Take a couple of folks. How about the Geckmann's next door?" Father Maher said.

"Perfect, thanks."

"Now, this brings me to something...somewhat serious." His voice light. "Dean, Cas, and Ms. Fray. I'd like you three to stay here while you're with us."

"What?" Dean asked.

Father Maher gave a little huff of a laugh. "We have spare bedrooms for your use."

Dean gave a little cough. "I don't think-"

"Ah c'om on." Kelly interjected. "You and Cas can share with me."

Marcia stood up, chair scraping behind her. She picked up her plate and balanced it on her arm. She indicated for Bess and Clary's plates. Marcia began clearing up and Bess rose to help her. Kelly handed his to his mother. She gave him a look when she saw the half eaten asparagus. Bess took Cas's plate, his hands in his lap as she grabbed it before taking Dean's. The two women walked into the kitchen, the swinging door swishing behind them in a soft whoosh of air.

"Ah, I-"

Father Maher held up a hand. "Please before you try and say no, let me tell you, we've had our share of out-of-towners come to stay with before they moved on of found homes of their own. I know, I know Ben said you be moving on as soon as you were able, but why not stay here before you do?"

"It's not that we don't appreciate the offer but-"

Clary cleared her throat. Cas stared at the two men as Kelly leaned forward. The sounds from the kitchen came through the crack under the door. Father Maher waited for Dean to finish.

"You don't know us. I mean, we could be anybody."

The kitchen door opened. Marcia and Bess emerged carrying plates of pie. Dean gave a small double take. Bess laughed as Marcia set the first plate down. The scents of apples filled the room.

"You're not the first boarders we've taken, as Bess can tell you."

Bess nodded. "I'd be happy to let Clary room with me." She set her dessert on the table. "It's cherry by the way. Who would like a slice?"

Whatever Dean was about to say was choked back by his sudden smile. "Please."

Bess took the knife Marcia handed to her, the blade gleaming and clean moments before plunging into the pie. A few swift strokes and she pulled the blade away, red smeared. She set a piece onto each plate. Gooey cherries tried to ooze out of the pie's golden crust. Kelly grabbed a plate and began to eat. He gave a closed smile despite the full mouth and gave a thumbs up. Clary giggled before taking a bite of her own slice.

Dean picked up his own fork as Cas looked at the rest of them. Cas held his fork over his slice, prongs hovering over the crust. Dean bite into his pie.

"Woah this is incredible."

Marcia laughed, voice soft and high. "Well thank you, I try."

"You made this?"

She laughed again, her husband joining in. Alice and Kelly exchanged smiles. Kelly winked at his little sister. Cas looked at Dean, then looked back down at his so far untouched slice of pie. He took his utensil and jabbed the slice. He sliced downwards, cutting a small piece from the end of the pie. Cas maneuvered the fork so he could spear the piece. It clung to his fork before her put it too his his lips and chewed. Cas's eyes widened. Dean almost laughed at how surprised they looked. Cas pulled the fork away. Bits of cherry still clung to the metal but Cas was still chewing, jaw and throat working in tandem. Dean watched the way the adam's apple slid before catching the way the lips puckered. Cas cut himself another piece, this time keeping the fork in his mouth a little longer. Teeth clench visibly behind the skin of the mouth, jaw flexing before Cas finally pulls away, licking his lips. Dean gaped as Cas's eyelashes fluttered for a minute before continuing to eat. He gave a thoughtful little hum.

"This is incredible. I can see why you like it so much, Dean."

Dean swallowed. He gave a shaky smile. Cas turned to Dean. A small spattering of cherry juice at the corner of his mouth. He peered at Dean. He seemed to be unaware of how the others were staring at him. Or rather, how the others were staring at Dean's staring. Cas kept looking at the man however.

"Dean? What is it?"

Dean gestured to his own face, pointing to his lips. "Y-you got a little..."

"Oh." Cas wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb before sucking the last cherry drop away. "You really are a good cook Mrs. Maher, is there any more?"

SPNTMI

Castiel peered about. Father Maher's study was spacious. Sturdy volumes of books lined his shelves. Father Maher's voice became softer and more out of focus to Castiel as he browsed the man's book shelves. He moved closer to the books. They were arranged in alphabetical order, many with glossy titles in thick hardback editions. A few were some rare bibles. He had a feeling that most of the collection here were of the theological persuasion. Castiel frowned. One appeared to be missing. A thick gap rested at the very end of the middle shelf. A smaller book leaned against the inside of the middle shelf. A thin layer of dust showed in telling lines where exactly the old book lay.

"So that's that, really."

Dean gave a small scowl. Father Maher seemed unperturbed. Instead he nodded.

"Really, please I insist."

Dean turned back to Castiel and Clary. Clary gave a little shrug. Her wan face made Castiel want to put a hand on her shoulder. The grace inside her fluttered and he didn't dare respond to it, in case it should weaken her. He resolved to ask her later. Castiel never met Ithuriel before, but that didn't surprise him.

"Why not?" Clary asked.

Dean made a small noise of protest. Castiel turned his attention to the man. His green eyes were clouded over. He was frowning, but it was different from Dean's usual frowns. If he concentrated hard enough, Sam would be the word that would come to the surface of Dean's mind. Castiel tore himself from his spot by the bookshelf and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. It stiffened through the leather jacket and for once, Castiel thought about pulling away but suddenly the shoulder slumped and Dean nodded.

"Thanks for the hospitality."

Father Maher beamed. "Excellent. Kelly can get your things."

SPNTMI

Dean and Cas followed Kelly back to his room on the second floor. It was the second door on the left. It was warm, with a sloping roof near the end of the room, where a single window rested. The roof and window seemed to meet at point. Said window divided the two beds on the left and right sides. On the right was Kelly's bed. The green comforter was rumpled and the thick pillows haphazard against the headboard.

Three posters lined the slanting wall on Kelly's side. Each poster was of a dramatic movie with a vintage style to them; made to appear old. Gone with the wind on the far left, Streetcar named desire, and Ben-hur on the right. A stack of records nested next to a bookcase stuffed full of DVD's and books. An overflowing hamper in the corner. Nightstand with a laptop resting on it. One long, ratty rug on the carpet. Its colors faded despite the geometric shapes glaring up at the lone overhead light. A still fan on the ceiling.

In contrast, the bed on the left was clean. Its sheets crisp; the bed made with military precision. This side's bookshelf was lined with manuals. There was no music players or instruments, just one lone Bob Marley CD on top of the shelf. No posters adorned the walls.

Dean dropped his duffle at the foot of the bed. Cas followed suit. He frowned and moved closer to the window.

"There's someone outside. He's staring at us."

"What?" Dean, who was sitting on the bed, stood up and went to the windowsill. "Who?"

Kelly joined the two men. He leaned forward and pressed his hands to the sides of the glass, blocking his eyes from the indoor light. His breath fogged on the window glass. He stared for a few minutes. His whole body went tense, shoulders shook. His reflection revealed gritted teeth. Pushing himself away from the window, Kelly managed to shrug.

"Oh, it's just crazy Ed Waverley." His voice sounded constricted.

"Crazy?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Used to be real good friends with my brother-he even lived with us, until-" Kelly choked. "Till' my brother died. Waverley's been crazy ever since. Don't pay him any mind."

"How old-" Cas began.

"Sweet dreams." Kelly clicked off the light.

SPNTMI

Bells pealed in the morning air, cutting through the early fog. The mattresses creaked. Kelly's shape shifted in the half light. The vague but identifiable noise of human fumbling before Kelly switched on the light. Dean sat up, rubbing at his eyes with ruddy fingers. Blinking, he slapped at Cas's shoulder. The angel was facing the wall, trench coat covering him like a blanket. Cas twisted around, squinting up at Dean. Kelly stood by his dresser scratching his belly.

"Time for work."

"Work." Dean said.

"Work." Kelly repeated. He gave a sleepy smile. "Course we got morning mass."

Dean groaned. Cas sat up. The bells still permeated the air and Kelly began to dress.

"I bet the bathroom is free. I'll go meet you guys downstairs." Kelly said.

Dean gave a vague wave and stood up. Cas followed suit. Neither spent long in the bathroom and they met Kelly, Bess, and Clary downstairs for breakfast. Father Maher was already setting the table, sharp cassock nary a stain on it. Marcia and Bess bustled in and out of the kitchen. When Clary went to help, Bess pressed her back down into a chair and handed her a cup of steaming liquid. Alice came trundling in, mary-janes clacking on the hardwood.

Father Maher said a hurried grace and reminded everyone present about his sermon before helping Marcia clear the dishes. As soon as Marcia disappeared into the kitchen, Father Maher approached the rest of the group.

"Now I've got a dispatch from Ben, saying he needs the extra hands for the community vans. So-"

"I can go with them?" Kelly asked.

Father Maher sighed. "Yes. It's been quiet so far."

"Why do you think that is?" Dean asked.

Father Maher shifted from foot to foot, expression shuttering for a moment before clearing.

"Not too sure."

Dean eyed the man for a moment, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet. Father Maher met his gaze for a few minutes before looking away.

"Ok." Dean said.

Father Maher blinked. "Ah, yes. Ben's on his way." He turned to Bess. "You and Ms. Fray are on standby shift."

"Yes Father."

Bess gave a little salute before ushering Clary with her. Kelly tugged on Dean's arm. Dean shrugged, following the younger man, with Cas trailing behind them. They hit the chill air and walked down the street. Kelly chattering to Dean, Cas just a few paces behind them. A shadow pulled itself away from a secretive corner of the Maher house and latched onto Cas.

"Listen. You have to listen to me."

"What?"

A man with a scruffy face-the beginnings of a beard peered up into Cas's face. Wide gray eyes and an unblemished face. He almost wore a hunter's uniform of jeans, work boots, flannel, and a heavy jacket. Except his wasn't a hunter. The gaze was too darting, too fearful. Thick brown hair ruffled in the slight breeze. He pressed further into Cas's personal space, but the angel didn't blink.

"Listen. There isn't much time."

Cas tilted his head a little. "Time for what?"

"Look, look I used to live there too. Your room was my room-"

"The room upstairs. Last night. You're Ed Waverley."

"At your service." Ed's hands shook. "Now they say it was my fault. Well it was my fault, that that's why I've gone crazy. But Joseph's death wasn't my fault. Well it was-I should have protected him better, but I didn't kill him myself!"

"Ok. I'm going to leave now." Cas began to move.

"Wait-you're in danger."

"I will be alert."

"No." he grabbed Cas's arm." She's a monster!"

"Hey!" Kelly shouted.

Red faced, Kelly stomped over to them. His lips trembled, eyes wide and glassy as he pried Ed's hands away from Cas. Dean jogged over to them, one hand half hidden behind his jacket. He glowered at Ed.

"This the guy from last night?"

"Yeah." Kelly's eyes narrowed. "Crazy Waverley."

"Check her room. Check her room." Ed cried.

"Get outta here."

Kelly shoved Ed and the man stumbled. His boots tripped over the cracked pavement and Ed's arms pin wheeled but he recovered himself.

"Come on."

Kelly grabbed Cas and Dean's arms and pulled them to the street corner.

"Look for it! It's there, I swear!"

Ed continued to shout. Kelly ignored it as Cas glanced back and forth between the two of them. Dean watched Ed out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. A few minutes later a mud splattered jeep pulled up and honked twice.

Clary and Bess went back into the church's dining hall. Back to the re-purposed break room. Bess began to unpack her kit and Clary restocked the supplies. A jaunty rap on the door was the only notice they had before the door opened. One of the teen aged kitchen staff poked his head in.

"Uh, we kinda need an extra pair of hands. Jimmy might have burned his fingers with the crock pot."

Clary winced. "Ouchie."

"Go on. I''ll give a holler if I need anything." Bess said.

"Sure thing."

Clary followed the boy out and into the kitchen. A crock pot boiling over rested on the counter. The boy she assumed to be Jimmy was holding his hands under the running facet of the sink, tears beading down his cheeks with trembling lips. He couldn't have been more than twelve. The boy who led her to Jimmy was older, with a voice that still cracked at the end of his sentences.

"See Jimmy, here she is. Now quit that cryin' already."

Jimmy's lips still wobbled but he wiped his tears away with the back of his free hand. He sniffled. Clary gave him a smile.

"Well you put your hand in cold water, that's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Clary repeated. "Now let's see here."

Clary went to Jimmy's side and pulled his hand away from the spray of the tap. Dark pink splotches coated his palm. She gave a light press and Jimmy sucked in a breath.

"Yeah I know."

Clary dropped his hands and pulled out the tube of ointment from her pocket. Unscrewing the cap, she put a dollop on her fingertips and then rubbed it into Jimmy's palm. He watched her with slightly puffy eyes. He gave another little sniffle.

"There. Now do you know if you've got an ice pack in the fridge?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Ok, then get one, wrap it up, and keep it pressed on your hand."

"Kay, thanks."

Jimmy scuttled off to the fridge.

"You're welcome." Clary called after him.

A girl cleared her throat. Clary turned and her mind supplied her with a name. Sally. She wore a pink shirt and a hopeful smile.

"Sooo...now that Jimmy can't cook, do you think you could help us with lunch?"

"Sure."

"Great were making pasta salad."

Clary followed Sally to the table in the center of the kitchen, heaped with bowls of half mixed ingredients. Spoons and whisks, bags of noodles, and half cut vegetables. Clary took the lead of Sally and the boy who brought her into the kitchen, Tom. Another boy and girl pair, Desiree and Frankie. Together they bustled about, calling out directions to each other. Clary was in the middle of chopping carrots when Bess poked her head in.

"Clary. Could you come into the break room?"

"Sure, just let me finish with these."

"Now please."

Clary stood up straighter. "Alright."

She hurried after Bess. At the older woman's indication, Clary shut the door behind them. Bess picked up a file off the counter and turned to Clary. Her face seemed pinched. Brows drawn tight, lips unsure to move or not. Grave gray eyes staring back at her. Clary glanced down at the file in her hand before staring back up at Bess's face.

"What is it? Demons? Are we being called back for support?"

"No." Bess sighed. "It's your test results."

"Oh." Clary paled. "So...not good?"

Bess shrugged. "That depends on your definition. Congratulations. You're pregnant."

SPNTMI

"Ok turn it now."

The raspy whine of a stalled engine answered him. Dean 'tsked' and went deeper under the hood of the van. The steam hissed into the air. Dean coughed, arm swiping away the steam. He peered closer at the engine, silent for a few minutes before shooting back up.

"Yahtzee."

Cas perked up from his perch. His back straightened on his makeshift seat of a water cooler. Dean leaned, turning his head to look at Cas. Dean outstretched his left hand in a 'gimme' motion. Cas reached for the beat up tool box, hands digging around inside until he pulled out a slim wrench.

"This one?"

"Yahtzee." Dean said again.

Dean grabbed the tool from Cas and then set himself back to the engine. A few crik and clangs before Dean called to Kelly.

"Ok, try it now."

"Kay."

Kelly turned the ignition. A sputtering before the engine turned over with a pleasant hum. Kelly gave a little cheer. Dean smiled back at the boy.

"That'll do." He said.

"So that's the last one before our break. Ben said so."

"Yeah he did."

Kelly nodded. "I think I'll just remind him real quick."

He hopped out of the passenger seat and raced to Ben, who was only about fifty feet away from them. Ben nodded, grinning as Kelly rocked back and forth on his heels.

"He is...very enthusiastic." Cas said.

Dean laughed. "Ain't that the truth."

"It's a little tiring and that is coming from someone who doesn't tire easily."

"Yeah, kids like that usually are."

"Are all kids like that?"

"Usually."

"Hm." Cas paused. "We're you?"

Dean gave another little huff of laughter. "Pretty sure you know the answer to that."

Cas gave a brief smile, just a twitch of the lips and Dean grinned in response. A lull before Kelly came jogging back.

"Hey guys. What's so funny?"

"Dean was educating me on human nature." Cas deadpanned. "It's quite an education."

Kelly laughed. "Oh well I hope so since we have some break time."

"I'll do you one better." Dean said. "Come over here. I have an idea."

"Yeah?" Kelly asked.

Dean crooked his finger and Kelly bounced along with Cas following at a more sedate pace. Walking to the same jeep that Ben drove that very morning a few hours before. Dean slid a hand along the jeep's closed hood. The other two closed the distance as Dean swung back on the frame of the driver's side of the jeep. A four door with no sides or roof to speak of with a black frame. The jeep's body was painted green, freshly washed. Wheels, thick and high, were newly pumped with air. Any patch job was well hidden in the treads. Dean peered down. He sat up and patted the steering wheel.

"Now, I'm pretty sure Kelly here can drive-"

"That I can. Had a driver's license for two years now."

"Good that's good." Dean cleared his throat. "So I guess Cas is the only one that needs schoolin'"

"What?"

Dean patted the steering wheel again. Cas tilted his head.

"You want me to drive?"

"Couldn't hurt to learn."

Cas and Kelly were silent for a few moments. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. He frowned, opening his mouth when Cas beat him to it and began to speak.

"No...It couldn't hurt."

Dean swung away from the driver's side, making a sweeping gesture to the driver's seat with his arm. Cas paused for a moment before stepping into driver's seat. Dean sat at the passenger's side and buckled up. Dean and Cas exchanged looks. Cas followed suit and buckled up. Dean tossed him the keys. Cas caught them with a small noise surprise. Dean turned back to look at Kelly, who backed away with raised hands. He eyed Cas dubiously.

"Uh, you know, I think I'll just sit this one out."

Dean's lips quirked. "Suit yourself."

Kelly laughed again, nodding. He brought his hands up to his mouth, eyes moving back and forth between the two men. He stepped back and sat on the water cooler by the closest van. Kelly leaned so that his back rested against the tire. When Dean saw that Cas was buckled in, he tossed the keys to Cas. The angel caught them with a surprised flick of the wrist. Dean pointed to the ignition.

"The keys go in there. Be sure to turn it all the way." Dean watched Cas do just that. "Yeah you got it."

The engine turned over with a little purr.

"Ok, it's in park now. Leave it that way for now for a sec. Good thing this isn't a stick shift. We've got ourselves a standard."

"A standard?"

Dean nodded. "Doesn't have the gears."

"There are gears?"

Dean gave a little grin. "Exactly. Now, breaks on your left and accelerator on the right. No, don't look down." Dean pointed to the shift in the middle. "Take that and out of park and put it in first."

The engine idled. A comfy purr and Cas leaned back in his seat a little, feet hovering inches from the pedals. He kept his gaze trained on Dean. The man cleared his throat. Cas dropped his eyes to the shift in between the two seats. The little letters glowed just a bit, with a minor red light. Behind that was another lever. Dean followed Cas's line of sight.

"That's the emergency brake."

"Ah."

Cas's hands went to the shift again. Pressing the button on top of the stick, holding it down as he pulled the stick back and put it first.

"Good. Put your hands on the steering wheel and keep your eyes on the road."

"Got it."

The wheel was warm beneath Cas's hands. Its rubber, thick and alien to the fingertips. He stared through the windshield. The yard was spacious and littered with cars and their various parts. Some in better condition than others. On the left was Kelly. Still leaning back against the white van. He gave a small wave when he caught Cas's eyes. Cas gave a little nod.

Dean cleared his throat. "So what do you see?"

Cas hummed. "Cars. The driveway is at least a couple hundred feet away. From there, the road is on the right of us. Kelly's on the left."

"Good. Good. You gotta stay alert. We're not gonna go on the road just yet. Just get used to the car." Dean shifted in his seat. "Go."

Cas pressed hard on the gas and they jolted forward. Dean shouted, hands shooting out to grab the dashboard. The jeep bounced, skimming the grass, wheels missing a lone fender lying on the lawn."

"Woah, brake."

Cas pressed the accelerator again, laying off seconds after they next burst of speed. He stomped on the brake. Both of them rocked forward in their seats. Dean gave a little laugh.

"That's one way to do it."

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Now try turning. See that patch of grass by that station wagon?"

"That one on the left?"

"Yup." Dean tapped the wheel. "Now, you don't have to turn too hard to get where you want to go. So let's try it."

Cas nodded.

"Check your mirrors, make sure nothing's in your way."

Cas nodded again and followed Dean's instructions. He tugged the steering wheel to the left, going a bit slower this time.

"The controls are so sensitive."

"You'll get used to it."

The jeep rumbled to the station wagon. Cas tapped on the breaks before he could hit it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean nod. Cas squared his shoulders. Cas tugged the steering wheel to the left until the jeep was turned halfway until it was nearly perpendicular to the station wagon. The wheels swiveled and Cas sucked in a breath. He pressed down on the pedal and the jeep bolted forward again, skimming past the station wagon. Dean's surprised noise made Cas stare back at the other man.

"Eyes forward, man." Dean said.

"Right."

Cas righted the wheel, going forward and as Kelly grew closer, he slammed on the brakes. Kelly stood up, backing away from the jeep. His grin was huge. Kelly spread his arms out. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Not bad for your first time." Kelly said.

"Well there are no gears." Cas said. "So there's that."

Dean gave a surprised huff, almost a choke on air. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Yeah guess I did."

Cas laughed. The sound low and rich, startled into being from the back of his throat. Eyes bright in a new found way. Dean blinked at the sudden way his chest lightened, to the point where he became dizzy. It made his skin burn and prickle. He gave a little shudder, almost wanting to rub his his arms but the pleasant rumble in his stomach stopped him. For some reason, he was reminded of Sam and instead of that dragging him back to reality, it only heightened the sensation. Splashes of color spotted in Dean's vision. The jeep seemed louder somehow and Cas's laughter echoing inside it. Dean grinned. He couldn't stop staring at the angel's mouth trying to contain itself.

Ben shouted, voice booming over the yard and cutting Cas's laughter short. Dean scowled, stiffening his back. Cas and Kelly turned to the sound. Ben came round himself, arms pumping as he jogged over to the three of him. His pinched eyebrows and gaping mouth as he panted, hands resting on his knees as he doubled over. Cas and Dean exchanged a look and Dean unbuckled his seat belt and Cas hurried suit.

"Dispatch." Ben panted. "Shepard's farm is under attack."

"That's a mile from us." Kelly cried.

"Exactly." Ben coughed. "I told them-"

Kelly bounced on his heels. "Ok, we'll go."

"We?" Dean asked.

"Already did." Ben said.

Kelly's eyes blazed. "You can count on us."

"Us." Dean repeated.

"Yeah us." Kelly rounded on Dean. "We're the only ones close by and can help."

Dean stared at Kelly, the younger man didn't drop his gaze. Kelly's mouth was set, eyes unblinking. Dean inhaled in a slow, sharp breath.

"Ok."

Kelly brightened.

"But you gotta stay close." Dean said.

"Of course." Kelly said. "Will do."

"I'm gonna prep the van." Ben said. "We'll give you support ASAP."

"Appreciate it." Dean said.

"Take the jeep." Ben said. "It's channel four on the CB."

Dean nodded. Ben raced to one of the vans, slammed the driver's door open and shut. The van's engine stalled and then rumbled to life. The van turned down the driveway and down the road. Dashing to the jeep, Dean buckled into the driver's side. Cas in the passenger's seat and Kelly scrambled into the backseat. Dean hit the gas and turned sharp to the left. Cas managed to buckle up in time so that when the jeep swerved, Cas didn't fly out of his seat. Kelly wasn't so lucky, he tumbled into the backseat with a yelp. The rumble of the engine drowned out Kelly's next words as they shot down the road. Kelly leaned over to Dean, shouting in his ear.

"Shepard's Farm is two miles away. You gotta turn on the left."

"Got it."

"The driveway is another mile long."

Dean sped up until he found the turn off. Kelly pointed it with shaking hands. The driveway sped past them until an old style ranch house loomed up in front of them. Dean slowed. Kelly turned, pulling a case from out from under the seat. He opened it up and pulled out the collection of guns and knives. Kelly handed Dean a shotgun as the older man unbuckled his seat. The three of them stared back at up at the house. A yellow-stained two story house, with peeling paint obvious from their distance. A lengthy porch with three steps that had noticeable gaps in between each of them.

Porch swing creaking as Dean took the lead, Cas on his right and Kelly on his left. Dean raised his shot gun up higher. Cas's angel sword gleamed in his hand and Kelly's hands fumbled with the machete. Dean looked back and forth between Cas and Kelly and jerked his head in direction to the open door. Its doorknob splattered with blood. Dean's eyes darted to the safety of his gun, flicking it off. The stairs creaked as Dean walked up them and he scowled. A shadow flitted, visible from the long entryway. Dean's back straightened and Cas's grip on his blade tightened. Dean went through the door way first. A shape barreled toward Dean. A muscular and board man lunged, black eyes large and sunken in the face. Limbs flying as He reached for Dean. Kelly shouted and leapt forward, shoving Dean's shoulders.

Kelly's free hand pushed on Dean's chest. Machete swung a high arch, slicing the arm of the demon. It staggered back and grinned, teeth shining in the gloom. Lunging forward, it grabbed onto Kelly and bit into the boy's neck.

"No!"

Kelly's eyes widened. Cas threw his seraph blade. It landed square in the demon's back. It lit up from the inside out, frame illuminated through the flannel shirt of the male host. His knarled hands tangled in Kelly's collar. Dragging the boy down with him on the dusty floor. Kelly gurgled, clutching his neck. Dean bent down to Kelly's side. He pried Kelly away from the dead demon as Cas retrieved his blade.

"Hey. Hey, hey hey. Look at me." Dean said. "You're gonna be just fine."

Cas stood up, head moving back and forth at their surroundings. His eyes darting everywhere, blade raised.

"Dean."

Dean's shoulders tense Kelly's eyes focused up at Dean, wise and glassy. Dean's gun lay on the floor as he grasped Kelly's shoulders.

"Ok. We're gonna move you. Keep your eyes on me." Dean looked up at Cas. "Grab his legs. On three."

SPNTMI

Clary refilled the bottle of antiseptic from the bulky dispenser on the counter. Bess cleared her throat and Clary turned to her and by the pursed lips and glassy eyes, Clary set down the bottle of antiseptic. She tilted her head as Bess held up a file folder.

"I got your results back. You're about six weeks pregnant, give or take."

Clary blinked. "So...about...almost two months?"

"Thereabouts."

Clary counted off her fingers, hands clammy as they went through the motions as flashes of that night came flashing back. The blood drained from her face. She kept swallowing, rubbing her hands on her jeans. She leaned back against the counter. Clary closed her eyes, squeezing the lids so hard she saw stars. Taking a breath, it was a few minutes before she could respond. Bess cleared her throat again.

"Clary, there is something I'd like to ask you." Bess said.

"Hmm? What's that?"

Clary still had her back to Bess, he hands full of tightly rolled bandages.

"How close are you to those two men?"

Clary still for a moment. She shrugged. "That's a good question. Well...we've been through some pretty weird stuff together." Clary paused. "They're handy in a fight. So...yeah I trust them."

"So..." Bess's voice was halting. "Neither of them is the father?"

"No." Clary turned around. She burst out laughing. "T-those guys? No, no the father is-" Clary cleared her throat, sobering. "No."

Bess frowned, but some of the tension went out of her body. "I ask because," She gave a little fidget before straightening. "I was thinking about having you stay on as my assistant."

"What?"

"I mean it. I need an extra pair of hands and you've got potential."

"Huh." Clary blinked. "Well..."

"Well what?" Bess set down the test tube rack she was holding. "I can't help but think you aren't very close to those two and honestly it's hard enough-"

Clary tensed but asked anyway. "What do you mean?"

"Being a single mother. In the middle of the apocalypse no less." Bess closed the gap between them. "Here you would be safe. Protected. A chance to have a real family around you. Whatever it was like for you before, it can be better now."

"Better?" Clary's voice sounded odd, even to her ears.

Bess nodded. "You're here for a reason after all."

Clary was about to ask for what when there was a rap on door. Bess jumped and then went to answer it.

"Think about it." She opened the door.

Alice stood by the entryway. "Knock knock." she chirped.

"Hey there, how are you?" Bess smiled.

"Oh. I was just stopping by for a snack, when I thought I'd pop in to see how you two were and remind you guys about mass."

Bess smiled. "Something to look forward to."

"Any patients so far?" Alice asked.

Clary didn't catch the response, paying more attention to the way Bess leaned forward to engage with Alice. The slight young woman was beaming up at Bess. She was smack dab in the middle of puberty, faded jeans with a flowing white blouse. Her long dark hair was clipped with a red bow in the back. Her sneakers had flowers drawn on it. Dark brown eyes gleamed as she laughed. Small white teeth against pink lips.

"I think dad is working up for a big one." Alice

Bess laughed. "I imagine."

"Yes, he'd like to talk about the righteous man-"

Bess gives a little intake of breath, eyes darting to Clary. Alice followed Bess's gaze and laughed. Alice waved a slim hand and gave a slim smile to Clary.

"What? She's a companion to the righteous man." Her smile grew, showing more teeth. "Dean Winchester is lucky to have you."

"Umm thanks, I guess." Clary frowned. "But why-"

"Well I figure that if he trusts you, we can." Alice said. She paused, giving a stare to Clary that made her skin prickle. "I'm a prophet of the Lord."

"I-I-what?" Clary sputtered. "Excuse me?"

Bess raise up both of her hands. She stuttered and Clary would have laughed if Bess's expression wasn't so alarmed. Clary looked back and forth between the two of them. Alice gave her a calm smile, unblinking at her. Alice nodded.

"Yes." Alice inched closer to Clary. "I can hear what the angels want me to."

"Uh huh." Clary cleared her throat. "I, uh, I guess that's what prophets do, huh?"

Bess frowned. "I know it's hard to believe-"

Clary raised her hands, waving them. "Oh, no I'm sure. It's just unexpected."

Bess's frown melted into a smile, brows unknitting and eyes softening. Clary put her weight on other foot, chest not as tight as before. Alice played with the hem of her blouse, looking up at Clary out from under her lashes. Clary tilted her head. She was about to speak until a door slammed from another entrance from the church and the following chorus of shouts. The three women turned to the sound. Bess breathed slowly and deep as Clary shuddered.

The sounds of human panic became louder. The dining hall doors bursts open. Father Maher is pulling back his wife. Tears streamed down her face, hands slapping her husband's arms and he winced when she elbowed him in the chest. Father Maher tightened his grip and he began speaking to Dean. Clary gaped. Sagging in between Dean and Cas was a bleeding Kelly. Bright splattering of gore on Kelly's neck, shoulder, and side of his face. Clary swayed. The people surrounding the group seemed blurred to Clary's eyes. Her gaze zeroed in on the blood on Kelly. Bess shot forward, waving her arms up.

"Bring him over here! How many wounded?"

Dean and Cas struggled forward. Kelly. The boy wasn't moving, let alone taking his weight off for the support of the other two. His eyes were half open and staring at nothing. Clary took a step back. Bess went to the three of them, arms opening to gather Kelly. She tried to balance herself, planting her feet. Bess twisted her neck around to glare at Clary.

"Need some help in here!"

Clary jumped and hurried forward. She moved her arms where Bess indicated, taking some of the weight off of the older woman. The two woman scuttled backwards into the break room. Together they settle Kelly onto the table. Kelly gave a little groan, face twitching in a grimace and didn't relax.

"Bandages." Bess said.

Clary darted to counter, fingers shaking as she grabbed the bandages she rolled a few hours before. She turn back to see that Dean was trying to stem the bleeding as Bess was cutting away bloodied fabric. Clary unrolled a bandage. Bess had washed away the dried blood and Clary zoomed in on the gore, fresh dribbles of blood still trailed down Kelly's neck. Flesh split in an uneven line starting at base of the neck. Three circular bite marks littered his shoulder. She could the indentations of individual teeth when she looked hard enough. Clary gagged.

"Clary!" Bess snapped. "Apply pressure!"

"R-right."

Clary did as she was told, a curious calm settling over her. Everything inside her went chill, limbs obeying her with ease. Fear was now in the back of her mind and didn't hinder her. Cas had to scoot back as Clary went to get more bandages. Another shout rose up as Marcia escaped her husband's arms and dashed into the room, Alice and Father Maher hovering in the doorway. Marcia threw herself at Kelly's side. Bess gave a wordless cry as she staggered back from Kelly, as Marcia moved to her son's side.

"H-how-" Marcia's voice cracked. "This, this isn't supposed to happen."

Father Maher grabbed her shoulders and rubbed her shoulder blades in small circles. He tried to pull her back, as she was leaning far too forward onto Kelly's chest. Her tears dribbled down her cheeks and tiny spots appeared on the edges of Kelly's shirt. Father Maher looked up at Dean, his eyes wide and glassy. Dean swallowed.

"Please." Father Maher said.

"We got a call to a house." Dean said. He cleared his throat. "When we got there-it was an ambush."

Marcia lifted her head up and glared at Dean. He didn't flinch, but he leaned back, lowering his eyes. Clary whirled sliding her feet to escape the press of the new people. She grabbed a tray with suture equipment. When she turned back, she almost crashed into Alice. Clary fumbled, equipment on the tray clattering and she managed to keep them steady on the tray. Bess frowned.

"Ok, that's it, everybody out." She snapped.

Father Maher bowed his head and steered his wife out of the room. She glowered at Dean. The hunter grabbed the angel and together the four filtered out. Alice pressed herself back against the wall across from the door. She watched as Marcia stepped up to Dean and slapped him. It wasn't strong enough to do more that give him a small red spot on his cheek but he reeled back from the surprise of it. She didn't lower her hand but curled it into a first and waved it underneath his nose. Her eyes blazed even as the tears still streamed down her face.

"Don't come back to the house." Her lips trembled in her white face. "Don't think that you'll be welcome. You-"

"Marcia!" Father Maher gave her a little shake. "Say no more."

Marcia choked, shaking her head but said nothing. Father Maher pursed his lips and Marcia escaped her husband's grip and strode down the dining hall. She was given a wide berth. Father Marcia gave Dean a stare.

"I'm sorry. It's not really..." He cleared his throat. "Either way, it's probably for the best if you didn't come back. I'd get you your things."

Dean nodded. Father Maher clapped him on the shoulder before he left, following his wife. Dean waited for a few minutes, back stiff as he stared past Father Maher's retreating form. His fists clenched so hard, flecks of blood dripped down from his fingers. Bess only glanced up at Dean once. Cas eyed Dean.

Dean darted out of the room and after a few minutes Cas followed him. Bess motioned for Clary to hand her another bottle of antiseptic. As Clary moved to assist Bess, Alice went to their side, leaning forward without getting in the way of Bess and Clary. Bess dapped a damp cotton swap onto a dried cut. She cleared her throat.

"His blood has already clotted. It's still early but it looks like he'll pull through."

Clary glanced back up at Alice, expecting to see a smile. The young girl's face was twisted. Her thin eyebrows pressed down hard, deep wrinkles set around her eyes. Alice's eyes flashed, the pupils dilating. The blackness inside them made Clary shudder. Alice's mouth was twisted up and in a way that Clary wasn't sure made sense. Lips twisting over teeth in smile that was more than a snarl. Her teeth bared, white and slick with spit. The cheeks pulled up, laugh lines jagged and deepened under the lights. Alice hadn't noticed Clary's stare. Clary pulled back averting her eyes before Alice could notice.

Dean strode to the jeep, he put his bag in the backseat. He gives a shaky exhale. Bright streaks of orange and red slashed through the sky. He narrowed his eyes as the setting sun glared. Dean gripped the door.

"Dean."

Dean jumped at Cas's voice. He squared his shoulders.

"Look just leave it." he said.

Dean didn't turn around to face Cas, but he could picture the way the angel's head would be tilting. Dean smiled for a second before sobering.

"You knew what I meant to say?"

Dean snorted. "Jesus. I knew it. I knew we shouldn't have gone there."

"And again you take the blame for things you shouldn't."

Dean turned to Cas. "Yeah? How do you figure? If Kelly hadn't gone with us-"

"Knowing him, he would have found a way to come with us."

"Doesn't matter."

"Dean..."

Dean huffed. "Seriously-"

"No." Cas said. "This is not your fault."

Dean opened his mouth but was cut off from a shout from Clary. The two turned. Across the street, Clary and Bess stood against the church steps. The older woman bored her gaze into them as Clary tapped her feet, crossing her arms, and her gaze darted back and forth. A sudden peal of bells made Clary jump. The clanging of the bells trumpeting through the street. Clary winced, rubbing her ears. She darted forward to the other side of the street. Bess called her name and grabbed her arm. Clary stumbled, one foot still in the air as Bess yanked her back.

"Dean. Cas." Clary called.

Dean met Bess's gaze and turned back to the jeep, getting in the driver's seat. Cas glanced between Dean and Clary. His attention turned back to the man when he began to speak.

"I'm almost done with the truck. We'll be outta here tomorrow."

"Alright." Cas said. "Pray for me and I will come."

Cas stepped back as Dean turned on the ignition and pulling out of the parking space. Dean drove down the street and turned right. Cas frowned and strode back to Clary and Bess.

"You don't want to miss mass." Bess said.

Clary nodded. "Go on ahead, we'll catch up."

Bess squeezed Clary's shoulder and jogged back to the church's entrance doors. Clary grabbed Cas's shoulder.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Cas frowned. "Dean is almost done fixing the car. We'll leave tomorrow."

"So we're just gonna leave?"

Cas gave a nod. He frowned, tilting his head. "I have something to do first."

"First?" Clary tilted his head. "Ok, meet me in the break room after mass."

"See you then."

The two moved in opposite directions.

SPNTMI

The inside of the church buzzed with activity. Every pew full to the brim. Clary even spotted Ben the mechanic a few rows in front of her. Bess was one pew above her. A few cluster of children from the dining hall on either side of her. However, Clary knew that Dean and Cas were nowhere to be found. Father Maher stood in the front with Alice on the left of him. His hands spread outwards as he spoke. Clary tuned out what he was saying, thoughts turning inward. One hand settled on her stomach. Alice cleared her throat and moved in front of her father. There were whispers among the church goers rustling in their pews.

"Just a minute. I know this is unexpected, but I have something to say." She gave a brief smile. "And I think we all know what it is. Ever since the apocalypse, we've gotten closer as a community. Life is funny that way, the way God has thrown us all together." She gave a little laugh. "It's also funny how we, as a flock have been thrown together with strangers-"

Clary twisted her head to see Marcia with a grim expression. She leaned forward, hands on the pew's railing, fingers digging into the wood. A fingernail chips but Marcia didn't notice. She was biting her lip so hard it bled.

"Strangers that don't know our ways and seek to harm us because of that. Strangers that we let into our town. I lost one brother to them and now I'm about to lose another. If we can't protect our own sons from outsiders, then we shouldn't have them at all."

Clary sat up straighter. She shivered. Alice kept talking. Father Maher gave a tug at her elbow, but she slipped out of his grasp and went closer to the edge of the pulpit. Her eyes widened.

"So it's time to listen to what I have to say."

SPNTMI

Castiel pushed through Alice's room. The single bed's covers were pulled down and made up crisp. A plethora of plushies littered her bed. Gauzy pink canopy was held in place by the ivory colored bedpost. A nightstand with a pink lamp on the right. Posters of ballerinas covered the walls, only stripes of the walls showing. The paper of the posters had an aged feel to them, as if they had been tacked onto the walls for years, the whites yellowed. Thick carpet indented upon impact of Castiel's shoes. A white vanity with stickers and cluttered with girly products. A bookcase full to the brim with textbooks and magazines.

Castiel frowned. It was a controlled mess and he couldn't see anything merely lying around. He opened the doors from the vanity and dresser. The bookcase full to the brim, '17 magazine' and 'American Girl'. He knelt down and stared under the bed. Nothing under the bed but a single book. Tugging it forward, Castiel hefted it into his hands. A looping script in Latin with an English subheading beneath it.

'Apocryphal lore of the apocalypse.'

The binding was worn, crinkling at the edges. Castiel opened the book with care. Flipping through the pages, thick vellum soft against his fingers. He pursed his lips. An English translation with the original Latin on the next page. A few editorial notes about the lore from opposing sources littered the margins. He closed his eyes. Power emanated from the book, a kind of spiritual static.

'Even in this state, I can feel it.'

Out loud he said, "Waverley was right."

SPNTMI

The break room smelled of anti-septic and pine sol. Clary wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Cas held up the leather bound book in front of her. Its script swimming in front of her eyes. The Latin came messily together for her mind. After a moment, she knew what it said. She gave a mental thanks to Ithuriel. Clary sucked in a breath, trying to keep the nausea at bay. She gestured to the book.

"So this is...?"

"A lore book. Very informative."

"I should hope so. Anyways, Alice Maher is a prophet." Clary said.

"No." Cas's answer was immediate.

Clary frowned. "What do you mean no?"

"I know the names of all the prophets that ever were and will be. Alice Maher isn't one of them."

Clary exhaled. "...But why lie about it?"

Cas frowned. "This place has always been suspicious. You've sense that too right?"

Clary nodded. "I just brushed it off."

"So did I, but now..."

"Yeah." She nodded again. "That explains Alice. She looked," Clary ran her fingers through her shorn hair. "Like, like she was happy. Her brother was bleeding out-was dying and she's smiling." Clary peered up at Cas. "I couldn't have imagined that. Thinking about it now, I know I didn't."

"It would explain why Waverley was talking about monsters." Cas said.

"He did?"

Cas nodded. "He said she. To look in her room."

"I take it you did that already?"

"Yes and Dean is still in the garage."

Clary frowned. "Are we really just going to leave?"

"We gotta find Sam."

"If there's anyone to find."

"Try telling that to Dean." Cas's hands hovered over Clary's shoulders before letting them drop back to his sides. "Don't give up. We made it out, it's not an impossibility that Sam wouldn't be able to as well."

It was a few minutes before Clary found her voice again. "You really think so?"

"If I know one thing about Winchesters', it's that they can defy expectations."

Clary gave a watery smile. "They're going to shut down the cell towers. I'm not sure what Father Maher can do about it."

"Not much he can, I found this in her room."

Clary tugged her sleeves, peering behind Cas to look at the close door.

"Ok, run that by me again, so Alice really is a monster?"

"The Whore of Babylon specifically."

Clary blinked. "The what?"

"The Whore. A creature that heralds the end times. She's here to drag this whole town into the pit."

Clary pictured a literal hole in the ground opening up and shadow-y claws dragging screaming residence inside. Lava bubbled up as Bess was pulled by her hair, kicking and sobbing. Clary shuddering.

"What? How?"

"By way of a ritual. For innocents to shed blood in God's name."

Clary looked down at Kelly, still lying prone on the table in the middle of the break room. His breathing was less labored than it was before, but he was still pale. Clary rubbed her arms and looked back to Cas.

"How did we miss this?"

Cas shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I shouldn't have." He held up the thick, leather bound book. "This. A section mentions that if the whore manages to get a priest's blessing, she can shield herself from anything of holy origin and pass by undetected."

Clary sucked in a breath. "So how do we kill her?"

"A stake of cypress. Holy wood straight to the heart. She must be killed by a servant of Heaven."

She groaned. "So easy to find."

Cas nodded. "Yes."

Clary shook her head. "No, I was-" Clary pursed her lips. "Never mind. Just hurry, they're going to shut down the cell towers. Everybody is getting rounded up. Wait." Clary paused. "What about Dean? The sword-"

"I'll get them. Can you hold off the whore until then?"

Without thinking, Clary said. "Yes."

Cas gave another nod. "I'll tell you what I told Dean. Pray for me if you need me."

"Ok."

The door opened and Bess emerged, face taunt and pale. Her eyes were wide in her head. Clary jumped and whirled around to see that Cas was no longer there.

"I-I just-"

"There you are. We need to hurry."

Bess grabbed Clary's arm and steered her out of the room.

SPNTMI

He set down Clary's old car battery with a groan. The heavy block of metal thumped onto the ground, missing his feet. Dean spread out the remaining tools, hands deft as he twisted a wrench this way and that. The only light came from the lamp posts overhead. Ben was in his garage, the door all the way open, light spilling out from inside. His radio was set on a country station and singers softly crooned out ballads. It still reached out to Dean with ease and some of the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. With the cars littered across the yard, he didn't look up when one of the white vans pulled up. The glare of the headlights made him bury his head deeper in the car's hood.

The radio was shut off. A creaking echo made Dean look up. The light from the garage slowly shuttering to a stop. The headlights from the van swerved as the vehicle turned so that the light hits the garage door. The lights shut off. The sounds of the doors opening and closing. James and Pedro's voices cutting through the air.

"So where did Ben say he was?" James asked.

"The junk pile to the left." Pedro said.

Dean froze for a second before pulling the wrench from the car engine and slid the tool into his back pocket. He leaned to the side, his feet pointed to his right. James and Pedro's shadows became visible. Their shadows lengthening over the tops of the tires.

"Hey, where are you?" James called.

Dean moved out from the shadows. "Here."

"There's an emergency." Pedro said.

"Yeah? I'm almost done-"

"Well snap to." James said.

Dean stiffened. "Yeah ok."

Pedro crooked a finger and Dean walked forward. He swallowed. Three sets of shoes crunched over the gravel. It echoed throughout the yard. It masked the idling of the engine of the van. Dean peered closer to the van. It stood underneath the streetlamp, half in shadow and half in illumination. He didn't move, staring at the windows. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His eyes stung and the moment he stilled, a shape burst out to the front seat.

Dean jumped as Ed Waverley slammed into the passenger seat. His wide eyes staring straight at Dean. Waverley's hands pounded on the glass and tears pool in his eyes. A silent scream on his lips. Dean froze. James and Pedro stood behind him. Calm settled over his limbs and he moved of his own accord. He whirled behind, hands skimming to his back pocket and pulling out his wrench. He slammed it into the side of James's face. The swooping edge of the crank caught the flesh where the bridge of the nose met the topmost corner of his right eye. James yelped as he staggered back, blood spurting back into James's eyes.

James stumbled into Pedro. Dean dashed back to the truck. Pedro shouted as the two men gave chase. Dean swerved to the shadowed truck, grabbing the corner of the open hood of the truck. He pulled himself forward, feet skimming for a second. James and Pedro rounded the corner. They were cast in a half light, the glare of the headlights shining in their eyes. Dean inhaled sharp, al the way back to his throat. He pressed his lips in a hard line. James snarled, his lips twisting back as blood crusted at the bridge of his nose, pupils dilating from the pain. Pedro pulled a gun out from his thigh holster. His fingers unlocked the safety as Dean raised up both his hands.

"Let's talk about this."

"No talking." James snapped.

"Nothing personal." Pedro said. "Well, for me and all, but you being an out-of-towner is a bit of a problem."

"Problem?"

James scowled as Pedro continued. Dean's foot nudged Clary's old car battery, his back now to the grilled of the truck. He gave a weak grin.

"You're the reason for all this sin." Pedro said.

Dean's face hardened. "Really?"

"When we pray. We do it together-it keeps us pure and protects us. Out-of-towners always mess that up. Can't have that."

Dean's exhale had a sharp choking quality to it. "Why am I not surprised?"

Pedro cocked the hammer of his pistol with a grimace. "Nothing personal." He repeated.

"Right."

'Cas, if you've got your ears on, now would be a good time. Get your feathery ass down her.e.'

Dean ducked low just as Pedro fired his gun. The bullet missed its mark, burrowing itself in a wooden post on the left behind Dean. Pedro fired again as James's shouts drowning out the echos from the shots. Dean's hands outstretched towards the car battery, scrooping it up from the handle. Grunting, he hefted it, swinging it low, wide arc. When his shoulder was level and the battery out of his vision, he flung it. It didn't soar for long. James and Pedro caught the battery, the heavy metal smacking them them both. It hit Pedro in the throat and James in the chest. They collapsed against each other, moaning as they fell to the ground and didn't get up.

SPNTMI

Bess's hand is firm but not painful. However, the pinching in Clary's wrist still sent little shivers of nausea through her. Bess and Alice led her through the dining hall. Alice led the way. A few remaining teenaged staff and a few various other citizens followed them out. Clary caught Bess's eyes. The older woman's face was pinched. Her expression seemed to waver from emotion to emotion. Her lips trembled.

"Have you been honest with me?"

"What?"

"Who is the father?"

Clary blinked. She felt hot-cold everywhere before flushing. Her own lips trembled and she had a sudden longing for Bess to wrap her arms around her. Clary extended out her free hand and put it onto Bess's shoulder. The older woman flinched. Clary yanked her hand back and dropped it to her sides as she looked down at her scuffed shoes. Alice tugged hard on Clary's arm and Clary had to skitter just to keep herself from being dragged forward. The strength in the girl's arm was surprising. They turned down a hallway with a back door and Alice opened the screen door.

A sharp cold breeze went through the door and Clary shuddered. Alice led them into a yard, its white picket fence gleamed underneath the lamppost. Its paint looked new, thick brushstrokes clumped together. They contrasted against the long shadows that the fence cast. The grass crunched underneath her feet, individual blades glimmered with a touch of frost. The night sky seemed so crisp and all encompassing. As if it her eyes wanted her to get in every last detail. The stars shone down on the townspeople, giving some color to the faces.

They surrounded her, clustering into small groups. Everyone's expressions grim, disgusted, or smiles that seemed to hold some kind of triumph. Everyone held rifles and shotguns in their hands. Any child that could hold a weapon did. Some of them held handguns and the little ones carried knives or slim daggers. At the front of the gather was a kind of stage. A small wooden platform big enough for at least two people was erected by four wooden poles and a set of stairs that led to the platform. The gap in between the poles and the platform was enough for the kindling that was gathered there to be arranged without trouble. Another, much longer pole was lashed to the back of the platform.

Father Maher stood beside the platform, arms folded, with his hands clasped together. His bible secure against his chest, the elegantly scripted title bright. Clary rubbed at her eyes. The air had a metallic tang to it, like the prelude to a thunderstorm. His smile was brittle.

"There you are." When he turned to Alice, his smile was more genuine. "Good job sweetheart."

Alice inclined her head. "God will reward you all for your hard work."

She tugged Clary harder this time and together they stumbled to Father Maher's side. Bess swallowed heavily as Father Maher began to speak.

"Now, I admit I was skeptical of getting rid of the out-of-towners. It seemed too much too soon but when Alice here informed me of just who-or should I say what, Ms. Fray is..." He gave a little chuckle. "Well I couldn't argue with that now could I?"

A chorus of agreement went up, some twitters of laughter. The teenagers from the kitchen jeered as an elderly couple gave Clary twin looks of discuss. Father Maher bobbed his head for a minute, waiting for the noise to go down before continuing.

"I certainly didn't think that our little flock would come up against such sin. Then again, with our Alice here, our little prophet-"

"She isn't one, don't you understand-she's not a prophet, she's the wh-"

Bess slapped her. Clary inhaled sharply, tear pricking her eyes at the unexpected sensation. The older woman looked on the verge of tears herself, splotches of color riding high on her cheeks.

"How dare you?! After she told you who she was. After you lied-"

"I didn't lie!"

"Then who is the father?" Bess's voice went higher. "Tell us!"

"W-what does that have to do with anything?"

"Because I can see into your mind, to get into the truth of things." Alice said. "I know what happened."

Clary shuddered. "No you don't." She said.

"Then say the truth for all to hear." She spread her hands. "That the father of your child is also your brother."

Clary blanched, gasping as the faces of the crowd blurred together into one continuous being. People were shouting, spitting, and laughing. Clary twisted her head back to see Alice's face contorted into a shape she couldn't identify, only knowing that she couldn't bear it near her. A burst of panic and disgust inside of Clary and its source she realized was Ithuriel, but she had no way of calming him. Her vision blurred, not clearing even as hot tears rolled down her face. Her shoulders sagged and for a moment, she nearly fell to the ground. Father Maher took one look into her face and he saw something in there that made him square up his shoulders. He jerked his head in the direction of the platform and four young men strode over to Clary.

As soon as they put their hands on Clary, she began to shout. She was led kicking and screaming up onto the platform. She lifted up her hips, twisting to and fro, gaining enough momentum to be horizontal. They hauled her up, getting a firmer grip on her. Clary peered around to see that Father Maher had opened his bible and began to recite the page. Bess was fumbling with the matches.

'Cas. Castiel, I pray to you in my hour of need. Get us the hell outta here!'

"Bess, please. Bess you don't want to do this."

"No." Bess said. Her mouth was a grim slash. "But I'll do what I have to, sinner."

Clary snorted. "I thought you said I was here for a reason."

Bess trembled. "I did. I thought it meant that God was giving you a second chance. Now I know that He meant for us to purge you-all of us-of our sins."

"What?" Clary paled. "I thought-"

Bess shrugged. "It's nothing personal."

"Seems pretty personal to me."

Clary turned to Father Maher. "Please. Dean saved your son's life-"

The Father's eyes were cold. "I don't owe you anything." He pitched his voice out and into the yard. "For the sin of incest, you will burn."

The foursome tied her to the wooden post, rope burning into her skin as she thrashed. She bared her teeth at the young men as they went past her and walked down the platform's stairs. Clary stared out at the crowd. Their faces melted into one long blur as the crowd jeered, spit, and shouted. She shivered, stomach roiling in the face of the mob.

SPNTMI

"Cas if you've got your ears on now would be a good time-"

"Cas. Castiel, I pray to you in my hour of need. Get me hell outta here!"

"Castiel...brother help us."

SPNTMI

"Burn her!"

"Hurry, before she taints us all."

Clary jiggled her wrists and couldn't move them more than an inch or two. She began to breathe through her nose. She pulled her lips back. A wave of anger swept through her and fresh tears spilled down on her face. Father Maher's voice blurred and became indistinct. A blaring noise whenever he opened his mouth. The blaring didn't stop as bright lights swerved down the road and took a sharp turn until they bore down on the street. A blue pick-up truck crashed into the picket fence, splinters of wood shooting out, pieces falling to rest on the mob's shoes.

The truck doors opened and out stepped Dean and Cas. Dean carried a sawed off shot gun in hand, pumping the rifle. The crowd startled as the two moved forward. A few went forward to meet them, while others parted. Marcia strode forward. Her face was a rigid mask as she outstretched her arms.

"You stand against the flock? After all we've done for you?"

"Yeah, real welcome wagon."

"She's committed grievous sin. Incest."

Clary blanched. She began to tremble all over. Dean stared at her for a moment and Clary quailed under his gaze. He turned to Father Maher and Bess, the expression becoming even more severe. The two actually took a step back.

"She's just a kid. Now cut her down and we'll sort this out."

Dean and Cas exchanged glances, their weapons tightening in their hands. Marcia's face twisted in a snarl. Father Maher lifted his bible higher in the direction of the two men. Bess dropped the matches and ducked down to retrieve them.

"She's just a slut!" Marcia shouted.

"Well she's our slut, so cut her down."

"We'll cut you all down." Marcia said.

Dean snorted. He lifted his shotgun higher, leveling the barrel at her. Father Maher froze, bible shaking in his hands. Dean gestured for Marcia to move out of the way. Alice twisted around to address Dean and Cas.

"She can erase the sins of all of us. Her sacrifice-just one great sin in exchange for all of ours." Her voice became louder. "We won't need to burn one of our own. All you need to let us-"

"No need." Cas said.

Cas weaved through the crowd, the stake of cypress raised in one hand. He made for the platform, but Alice block his path. She raised both hands and she began shouting out words in a thick, lilting language. The air around her palms seemed to shimmer like a heat wave, distorting her fingers until they seemed no more than air itself. She darted forward, not quite touching Cas but close enough to do so. Alice slammed her hands back down, as if pressing down on something heavy and Cas collapsed with a shout of pain.

"Cas!" Dean shouted.

The stake of cypress skittered out of his hand and into a patch of grass. Father Maher started up his recitation again as Marcia rushed Dean. He pulled the trigger and she ducked, pulling back her fist and landing a punch in Dean's jaw. He stumbled back, hands keeping a firm grip on his shot gun. He fired, clipping Marcia in the shoulder. Screaming, she stumbled back and Dean was swarmed with townspeople. He ran out of bullets quickly and started to swing his gun like a baseball bat, keeping the townspeople at arm's length.

"Now!" Alice said.

Bess shrieked, fingers fumbling with the matches. She struck one, a tiny flame and she flung it into the kindling. It burst into flames. Clary screamed. She thrashed, kicking her legs back and forth. The pole wouldn't budge. Dean shouted, but she couldn't make out the words. The fire was eating up the kindling and she raised her knees up higher, the heat traveling up to her sneakers.

Dean made for Alice, but Father Maher intercepted him. Dean punched him in the jaw and Cas staggered to his feet. As he stood up, Alice pushed him out of the way. He stumbled into the crowd. Father Maher's bible dropped to the ground as Bess struggled to back away from the flames. Clary screamed again, muscles aching with the strain of keeping her legs away from the heat.

"Look at you." Alice crowed. "An angel with clipped wings. I'll be more than happy to tear out the rest of those feathers."

Cas got to his feet for a moment before collapsing back down with a wheeze. Alice laughed, her voice drowning out the crackling of the fire as Cas stared at her with hate in his eyes. Dean's gun was flung to the ground with a wave of Alice's hand. With a snarl, he flung Ruby's knife with true aim and it sunk into Alice's shoulder. The wound lit up, crackling as the blade made sparks against her flesh. She strode over to Dean. She struck him with an open palm and he was flung to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!"

Alice laughed. "The three musketeers." She strode to Dean.

"Hurry! We have to-" Clary's voice retreated and she shouted to Ithuriel. "We need to get out!"

A coolness washed over her body, a newfound tingling in her limbs. Her muscles stopped shaking and the flames didn't feel hot. Wrists shaking as she could smell something burning, like ozone. The part of her mind that didn't go quiet, honed in on Alice pinning Dean to the ground, her voice sharp and clear to Clary's ears.

"And you call me a whore." Alice smirked. "You want to help the little slut, when you can't even help yourselves. A girl so lonely she fucked her own brother and a man who'll let the world burn for his own brother." She laughed. "You can't even live without your brother. Some righteous man you are. I've seen your heart and it's filthy. You don't trust anyone. Not your brother, not even the angel who fell for you."

Dean paused, hands shaking and his eyes dimmed. He seemed to slump over, despite being pinned onto the ground. A wave of cool-hot overwhelmed Clary. Her hands shook and the ropes binding her wrists snapped. Clary slid down the pole, feet slapping onto the smoldering platform but she felt no pain. Bess looked up at the podium, staring at Clary walking on the small flames and screamed. Clary jumped off the platform, scrambling on the grass. The stake had rolled into a patch of grass a feet away from her.

Bess followed her gaze and screamed again, pushing past the press of people around her. Clary saw her weaving to her out of the corner of her eye. Clary slipped up to her feet to reach the stake. Bess's fingers brushed Clary's sneakers. Clary tripped and her hands grabbed the stake. Bess's hands wrapped around Clary's ankle. Clary stumbled and she kicked out, shaking her leg to get it free. Bess held on and Clary kicked again. Her foot connected with Bess's nose with a wicked crunch. Bess yelped and fell back.

Clary raced to Alice, who was pinning Dean. Her knees pressing into his hips and torso. One hand was on his shoulder and the other around his throat. Dean's weapons too far away for him to grab. Clary leapt forward and tackled Alice. Alice stumbled, her grip on Dean relaxing. He gasped for air and struggled to get to his feet. Alice whirled around, face pulling back to reveal a kind of blackness and teeth. Her cheeks became sunken and mouth pulling up to the bridge of her nose. Black eyes gleamed with too many pupils as her teeth rushed to meet her throat. Clary pulled her arm back and stabbed Alice in the chest with the stake.

Alice screamed. Her veins turned back and her skin seemed brighter, as if she was lit up from the inside. Alice-the whore-shrieked. Limbs flailing. She bucked Clary off and she hit the ground with a hard thump. The stake was still lodged in the whore's chest. Steam rose off the body. Skin bubbling as she continued to contort. The shriek became a wail, vocals moving into sounds a person couldn't make. Clary covered her ears, feeling like ground had split open and she was about to tumble down into an abyss. The whore tried to sit up. She seized, leaning up to walk. Clary stood up, shaking as she did. A quick sprint, tackling the whore. Clary's hands slammed into the whore's chest, driving the stake deeper.

The whore thrashed, limbs seizing so hard that chunks of dirt flew up into the air before she finally went still. The crowd went silent, black smoke curling up from the whore's sizzling body, her chest completely still. Her expression froze, all gaping mouth and wide eyes. Eyes that were entirely black, bulging to the point that they almost popped out of their sockets. The human-ness fell away. The more Clary stared, the more her head swam and her eyes burned. She dragged her gaze back to the mob. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched fresh tears spill down Bess's cheeks Marcia screamed, pointing at Clary.

"Kill her!"

Clary froze a second, then spun around and bolted. Dean grabbed Cas's arms and hoisted him up. Clary reached the truth first, clambering into the driver's seat. Marcia's screams and Father Maher's cursing echoing in Clary's head. Dean opened the passenger door, half shoving and half flinging Cas into the backseat. The angel groaned but shifted until he crawled into the backseat. Dean was halfway into the truck cab. Marcia grabbed his foot, dragging him enough for his legs to dangle past the seat.

"Punch it!" he shouted.

"What?" Clary shouted back.

"Go go go go go."

Clary floored the accelerator. The truck went shooting back out of the yard in reverse. The burst of speed was enough to let Dean kick Marcia with ease. His work boot crunched Marcia's nose. Her grip tightened on Dean's ankle. Truck fishtailing, Dean halfway dangled out of the car, Marcia clinging to him. Clary changed gears, hands shaking as she u-turned and put it into first gear. Marcia's grip slackened and she tumbled into the road. The mob closest to them, slowed and bent down to Marcia.

A few cars sped forward to give chase. Dean yelled and Clary slowed down. He pulled himself inside and barely slammed the door before Clary floored the ignition. They barreled down the road, tires squealing as Clary took a hard turn as she struggled to get back onto the freeway. A white van, Ben's jeep, and a station wagon followed them. Ben's jeep was the hardiest, turning so that they drove parallel to the truck. Ben's face a blurry mask of anger to Clary's eyes. The van blared its horn, cutting them off and staying ahead of them. The station wagon brought up the rear, its fender tapping the truck's bumper. Clary jolted forward, hands slipping on the steering wheel. Dean scrambled for a gun.

"Ram the jeep, then turn right."

Clary clenched her teeth. She twisted the wheel hard to the left. They slammed into the jeep. Metal on metal shuddered. The frame of the truck groaned, the squealing of the tires as Clary pressed harder. The jeep lay on its horn. Ben howled as he began to fishtail. The front right tire of the jeep bumped over a rock. The jeep swerved and Clary jerked the wheel in the opposite direction just as the van turned to the left lane. Clary shot forward just as the van crashed into the jeep. The van tried to break hard, its side slamming into the jeep. Together the two spun off the road and tumbled together with resounding crashes. The station wagon back peddled, stench of rubber and smoke surrounded its wheels.

Clary sped faster until the sounds of the pursuing cars faded in the distance. The engine began to splutter, the whine coming from the front getting louder. The truck slowed down, shuddering despite the smoothness of the road. Clary turned down to a dusty lane. She just managed to pull over as the car stopped without another sound. She turned off the ignition, slumping forward, and rested her head on the steering wheel. Dean put a hand on her shoulder. Cas leaned on his side in the backseat. They stayed that way for a long time.

SPNTMI

Clary woke up to the strains of 'Load out-stay' by Jackson Brown. When she cracked her eyes open, the sky hadn't quite lightened from a sun barely on the horizon. Clary exhaled in one long shaky breath. Nausea fought with her as she watched her breath spiral up the cab's roof. Dean, turned to look at her, only his head moving. His shoulders shook. Green eyes sharp and alert despite his body having a slump to it. He stared at her.

"Hey Red." He croaked.

"Hey yourself."

His lips quirked up in a smile that disappeared as quick as it came.

"You good?" he asked.

Clary tensed and then forced her body to relax. She inhaled through her nose.

"As I can be." She gave a little laugh, wincing when the act made her nausea increase. "Ooooh."

Dean frowned and Cas stirred in the backseat. Dean's eyes flickered over to Cas, then went to Clary. His gaze lingered on Clary.

"So you're..."

"Yeah." Sudden anger overtook her and she glared at Dean. "It's the truth."

Dean put up his hands. "No judgments here."

Clary nodded and then groaned. Cas sat up. Dean shifted to turn back to Cas.

"How bout you? You good?"

"I will be."

"Good cuz we gotta get outta here."

Dean twisted his weight and unlocked his door. Clary groaned and Dean moved to the truck bed as Cas let himself out. Clary unbuckled herself out of the seat and opened the door. The moment her feet touched the ground. Nausea winning out, she barely made it to the edge of the trees before she was sick. When she was finished, she joined Dean and Cas at the truck bed. Dean stared at her approach but said nothing. He hefted his duffle bag over his shoulder and tossed a backpack to Cas. The angel caught it with a little huff and slung it over his back. Dean went into the backseat and grabbing Clary's bag and Maellartach. He put the sword into his duffle and handed Clary her bag. She nodded in thanks.

"Well, no time like the present." Dean said.

Clary frowned. "We're walking?"

"Yeah. The truck's toast."

Clary's frowned deepened. "I thought..."

"The tranny didn't take." Dean cleared his throat. "It didn't match your old one very much. We're lucky that we got as far as we did."

"I see."

"Ok then." Dean nodded. "You up for it?"

With Ithuriel thrumming in her chest in tandem with her queasy stomach, she felt herself harden.

"Yes."

Clary ran a hand along the truck's hood. Tears welled in her eyes. Shaking her head, clearing her head of images of Luke and her mother. She walked beside Dean. Birds chirped, still unseen as they trudged down a dirt road. She stole glances at the two men as they kept pace side by side. Two bruised and dirty men. Dirt along their faces and hands. There were some rips in Dean's flannel shirt. His jeans were stiff with blood and mud. Grass stains splattering all over the fabric. Cas's trench coat was rumpled more than usual and tie askew even more so. Clary avoided their gazes when either one sensed her scrutiny.

It was daybreak when they finally reached a truck stop with a gas station attached. Clary wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. The words Gas n' Sip loomed up in bold letters. The bells metallic ring made Clary wince. As did the bright florescent lights after a few hours of gentle pre-dawn sky. Clary hurried into the bathroom as Dean went to a turnstile rack holding cell phones and gift cards. Cas wandered the isles.

Clary stared at her reflection in the sink's mirror. Grabbing some paper towels, she wetted them with soap and water. Clary glared back at her mirror self. Her face was sweaty and pale, even as she wiped the grime and specks of blood off. She leaned forward with her hands keeping a death grip on the sides of the sink. The angles in her face were oddly pronounced. Lips pinker, slight, barely there tinge in her cheeks. Green eyes glassy, shinier than her energy levels would suggest. Clary shuddered. A kind of rumbling went through her whole body, like she was in line for a roller coaster and couldn't leave. Her mouth moved against her will.

"You're pregnant." she whispered.

Clary didn't know how long she stared at herself, so she tore her gaze away from the mirror and left the bathroom. Clary found Dean just as he paid for his things. Clary and Cas followed him out onto the parking lot. Dean reached into the plastic bag and tossed her a water bottle.

"Hydrate."

She caught it with an ease that surprised her. "Thanks."

She unscrewed the cap and took a swig. Dean pulled out a few cell phones. They were the size of tiny bricks of black plastic, their buttons stocky despite their size. Since they weren't flip phones, they looked as basic as a cell phone could. Disposable phones. Dean took out the plastic cards, lurid colors clashing with the plain phones. Punching in a few buttons, Dean activated the phones. Clary took another swig of water. He tossed a phone to Cas and was about to toss another one to Clary when the one in his right hand began to ring. Clary jumped, choking as she splashed water onto the pavement. Cas and Clary turned to Dean, who was staring at the phone in his hand with a scowl.

"Who would be calling you?" Clary gasped. "Sam?"

Dean shook his head. "Couldn't be."

"Answer it." Cas said.

"Touchie touchie." Dean pressed the call button. "Sammy?"

"D-dean!"

Dean straightened as the voice shouted, tinny down the line. Dean jerked his head away from the phone. The voice came in loud and clear, despite the breathy panic in the words.

"Dean? Dean are you there?"

"Is that-" Cas said.

"Chuck." Dean breathed. He pressed another button on the phone and Chuck's alarmed voice came out loud and clear over speakerphone.

"Dean? You there?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here Chuck."

"Oh thank God!"

Dean snorted. "What's wrong?"

Clary frowned, turning to Cas. "Wait...Chuck? Isn't that the uh..."

"The prophet." Cas said. "The true one."

Clary nodded. "He's the one who writes the supernatural books?"

"The very same."

Chuck's laugh had a hysterical edge to it. Its sharpness made Clary flinch. Chuck cut himself off.

"The angels." Chuck said.

Dean and Cas stiffened. Clary looked back at forth between them. The air seemed to crackle with electricity.

"What about them?" Dean asked.

Chuck paused. "Y-you've got the soul-sword right?"

Dean nodded. "Chuck-"

"C-cuz, that's what they want. The soul-sword goes with the Michael sword and since they can't find either, they thought-"

"Thought what?"

"Zachariah is trying to find you." Chuck paused. "With me. Looking for you through me. There gonna find you-the sword." The sound of flipping paper drowned out his voice for a moment. "I-I-It acts like a GPS, the sword, but they think I know where you are so-"

"So they'll use you to get to me? Naturally."

Chuck gave another laugh.

Clary stared at Cas. "Why would they do that?"

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. The gesture didn't quite match his grim face with its set mouth and darting eyes. Clary rubbed her arms and took another of water.

Dean sighned. "Your address still the same?"

Chuck rattled it off all the same.

"Ok we'll be there ASAP."

"I know."

Dean hung up and looked back up at the other two. "Trap?" It sounded more or less like a statement.

"Undoubtably." Cas said.

Dean clicked his tongue and then turned around at the near empty lot. A dusty grey pick-up parked alone. Dean made a beeline to it, Cas matching pace despite his wince. Clary capped her water bottle and hurried after them. The similarites between the grey truck and Luke's old blue one was enough to make her eyes sting. She watched Dean pull out his slim lock picks. Clary frowned.

"Do we really have to steal it?"

SPNTMI

Chuck's house was unexpected to Clary's eyes. A drab two story in not quite suburbia. Despite the spattering of parked cars, the street was deserted. Sunlight crept up the top of the trees. A lone car rested in the drive way, a yellow VW bug.

"Huh." Clary said. "Shall we?"

"What do you think's in there?" Dean asked.

"Something horrible no doubt." Cas said.

"Pocket full of sunshine, this one." Dean said.

Clary gave a tight laugh. "Time to go in."

Together they went up the porch steps and knocked on the door. Dean's fist banged only once before the door creaked open. Clary stared between Dean and Cas as they exchanged of their own. Dean pulled out his gun, raising it to eye level. Cas's hand tightened on his angel blade, hidden in his sleeves. Clary stared at their weapons and marveled at how they fit so easily in their hands. She jumped, fumbling for her stele, pulling it out of her pocket. Clary looked up to find both Cas and Dean staring at her. She flushed and nodded.

"Ready."

Dean went in first, with Cas bringing up the rear. The inside of the house was the same, with the exception of the silence. Of course, the last time he was here. The place was a mess, curtesy of the archangel Raphael. Now the couch in living room was overturned, stuffing from the cushions floating about, specks of white fluff dusting the hardwood floor and the thrice rumpled Oriental rug. The words 'made in USA' stamped on the underside of the corner side of the rug. A few chairs lying on their sides. The table that his laptop rested on, was stained, wood dark with alcohol and blood. A bottle of jack was about an only a third full. It rolled to its side. It rested against the open laptop, liquid spilling down on the ground. A few pieces of paper were soaked in whiskey. Speaking of paper, sheets upon sheets fluttered in the slight breeze.

The kitchen wasn't any better. A cracked and burnt toaster flung across a blood spattered counter top. The window above the sink almost dishes piled high. Bits of food floated on the still dishwater. Boxes of takeout and few beer cans shared space with battered paper backs on the kitchen table. The walls coated in grime, had a foul smell that Dean couldn't place. A slightly tangy smell cloying over a thicker scent, like a dying air freshener trying to hide a stench. Clary gagged and Cas made a face. The silence stretched on.

Dread coiled in his gut. Something thumped from upstairs. Dean uncocked the hammer of his gun. More thumps in rapid fire succession. Clary and Cas took possession on either side of Dean. His silent tread started them forward. Dean led them back into the living room. A creak of wood. Someone was coming down the stairs.

A hand snaked down the bannister before yanking itself away. A flash of movement, then a chair was flung over the stairs bannister. Clary took a step back but the chair fell short of them by a foot. It clattered to the ground with a faint echo. The legs wobbled, but became still after a moment. The stairs creaked again. A blonde woman wielding a chrome baseball bat descended the stairs. She turned to look into the living room. When she saw them, her eyes widened to a comical degree. Grey irises bright against the whites of her eyes. She screamed. Clary winced and Dean lowered his gun with a grimace. He opened his mouth but she beat him to it when she exclaimed.

"Dean."

Dean groaned. "Hello Becky."

Becky's feet clattered on the steps as she dashed down and went to their sides. Her wide smile made Clary fidget but she stepped closer to the blonde.

"Just on time." she said.

Dean shook his head. "What?"

"Chuck said-well his manuscript said that you guys' show up."

"Really? How much of the future did Chuck see?" Cas asked.

Becky rounded on him. "Oh Castiel-" Her voice managing to go higher and breathier. "So good to finally meet you. I can totally see the eye-sex thing now-"

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, Chuck?"

Becky nodded in rapid suggestion and Clary was reminded of a bobble head.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Hang on."

Becky turned on her heel and zipped back up the stairs. A few frantic thumps before she zipped back down to them. In her arms were a stack of pages bound by thumbtacks. A block of typeface in the center of the page. A manuscript. She held it out to them. Dean took the manuscript and flipped through it. Cas and Clary peered forward over Dean's shoulders. Becky continued speaking.

"Here it is, it's not finished, at least not the way I think it is."

"You think?" Cas interjected.

Becky eyed him up and down with a big smile on her face. "You, like I dunno how it is that Chuck can see what they don't want him to of how they keep them from reading his mind. Prophet stuff I guess. Ooooh. What if he's like, a super prophet and stuff."

Clary raised an eyebrow. Becky caught her look.

"You know because some crazy stuff's been happening. The Nephilim storyline was totally out of left field. Sorry about Idris by the way."

Clary choked on her spit. "You heard about that?"

Becky nodded. "Even after the publishing house went down, he kept writing."

Dean hefted up the script. "So this is the playbook for today?"

"I think so. I mean it's a trap right?"

"Yeah. By the way, how is it you know this?" Dean asked.

Becky bit her lip, blushing as she tilted her head downwards to the side. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt. Dean gave a little smirk.

"Ok, say no more." He sobered. "Ok, so how do we spring this trap?"

Cas took the manuscript from Dean and flipped through it. Becky held up her hand, one finger pointing straight up while the rest curled into a fist. She fished into her pocket and pulled out a laminated card and a folded up brochure. She unfolded it and waved them with glee. It was for a museum exhibit. 'Mythological swords of Europe' gleamed up at them in thick, glossy font. A medieval broadsword decorated the front cover. The dates for the exhibit rat at the bottom. Only three more dates left. Clary inspected the other piece in Becky's hand. A library card with the lamination beginning to fray. Its address a plain script in the middle of the card.

"Ok so since I've been with Chuck, he's told me to wait for you guys. Like at first, I was 'yay' but today I woke up and he was gone and I found these. I don't think the angels knew he wrote this. Sooo...ideas?"

Dean looked up from the brochure. "Yeah."

SPNTMI

The grey ford truck followed Becky's yellow VW bug into the parking garage. The ground level moderately sparse and they parked in the shadow-y corner. The staircase to the upper level on the right of the truck. An overhead light missing both of the cars and instead illuminated the entrance to the door. Dean, Clary, and Cas got out of the truck, Becky wiggled in her seat. Her teeth visible even in the dim light. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she was at their side in a flash. Dean went to the truck's cab, taking out Maellartach, the blade wrapped up in a corona beach towel and held together with zip ties. Only a bit of the hilt stuck out. Dean handed it to Becky. She gasped as the covered blade was handed to her, paling as she held it.

"Don't lose it." Dean said.

Becky nodded. She unlocked the backseat of her bug and placed the sword beneath the passenger seat. Dean gave his own nod and she gave a little squeal, ignoring his responding eye roll.

"Ok. Everybody got their stuff?" Dean asked. "Go through it all to be sure."

Becky waved her library cards and cell phone, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Cas pulled out a cell phone from his trench coat's pockets. Clary adjusted her messenger bag, revealing her two museum tickets, cellphone, stele, and sketchpad. Dean patted his pockets. He wore a workman's jumpsuit. The kind Clary had seen on repairmen. A few sewn on patches displayed his company's name and logo while a laminated fake ID clipped to his breast pocket. Dean tucked his cellphone back into his pocket and pulled on a thick pair of gloves.

"Keep in contact but maintain radio silence. We're good to go."

Becky squealed as they continued to stand there. Dean gave Becky a long stare.

"Oh right."

She bounced back into the driver's seat of the VW. Cas and Clary glanced back at Dean before they climbed into the backseat of Becky's bug. Clary barely shut her door when Becky pulled out of the space and turned the corner. Dean groaned, watching for a moment before he took the stairs.

SPNTMI

Shoved into the backseat, Clary's head swam as Becky prattled on. Her radio was actually lower than her voice but Clary tuned out the song, breathing through the nose.

Becky giggled. "I feel like James Bond right now-"

"Who?" Cas asked.

Becky laughed. "Right, you don't know pop culture. That's so cute about you. Well, lot's cute about you-"

"Uh..."

Cas exchanged a look with Clary. He tilted his head, frowning. Clary waved her hand and sighed. Becky continued speaking and squealed.

"-Just so hunter-y."

A building loomed up from down the block. Clary nudged Cas and together they looked out their windows. An austere but modest building with two lengthy stone steps. A pair of stone lions posed mid-roar across from one another. The name blazed in embossed letters.

'The Hawley museum of history and art.'

"We're here." Becky said in a sing-song voice.

Cas unbuckled himself and was out of the door before Clary had a chance to clamber out. Clary slammed the door behind her. Becky waved her cellphone in the air. Clary raised a hand as Becky slowly pulled away from the curb. She idled into the road. Clary nodded as she and Cas made their way to the stone steps. Clary turned around again to see the yellow bug still idling in the road. Clary waved her hands, flinging them out so she pointed to the road. She could have sworn she saw Becky wink. She honked three times in rapid fire before taking off down the street. Clary jogged to catch up with Cas.

"Shall we?" she huffed.

SPNTMI

Dean was let into a side entrance and walked down the employee's only corridor. At the end of the hall, a stout man in a security uniform greeted him. His crew cut grey and a bit thin in places but his eyes were sharp and clear. He stared at Dean, who then put on his charmer smile. The security guard looked at Dean's ID.

"Steven Smith?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we spoke on the phone." Dean gave a little laugh. "Mr. Jones right?"

"Yup. Right this way."

Mr. Jones led Dean to the security booth, a small room on the left. A panel of monitors dominated the room, with a long desk holding up various smaller monitors and at least one keyboard. A two radio next to it.

"We're short staffed but it's a weekday so it should be pretty quiet." Mr. Jones cleared his throat. "We usually don't have to out-source for this, so thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"Oh not a problem."

"Well I'm on patrol till third shift, so holler if you need anything. It's channel four." He patted the receiver on his shoulder.

"Will do."

Mr. Jones rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and left. Dean waited a few moments than shut the door. He sat down and watched the monitors. At least ten of them. One on the bottom showed the main entrance where visitors' bought tickets and hung up their coats. Three were dedicated to the ground floor, with their large interconnecting rooms via high ceilinged halls. Another three for the second floor, its layout the same as the first. Two of the stairwells and its final one for the closed exhibit on the top floor. This monitor also would switch over to the loading dock on the basement level. Dean stared at the monitors for a moment longer, then turned back over to a filing cabinet just behind him. He rifled through it until he found what he was looking for. A map and a layout print. Turning back, he placed them onto the desk. His phone vibrated. Dean fished it out and read the message.

'We're in.'

SPNTMI

Clary sat down on the polished wooden bench. Her phone gave a little hum in her pocket. She pulled it out and scrolled through her messages.

'Good luck! Oh and congrats btw :)'

'Uh...thanks?'

'np :) xoxo'

Her phone went off again and Clary sighed with relief when she saw the message.

'Good. There's four guards on shift till closing time.'

'Ok. Not a whole lot of people here.' She typed in.

Clary pulled out her sketchpad, hugging it to her chest and closing her eyes. Her phone again. She looked down at the message.

'Good. Guard on your floor is in other room, hurry.'

Clary flipped her sketchbook to the page marked. A sigil drawn in pen stared up at her. She walked over to Cas, who bent down to whisper into her ear.

"It's time?"

Clary nodded. "Think this'll work?"

"I can turn off any alarms."

Clary sucked in a breath. The couple who had been looking at the paintings tucked away in the corner had now wandered off to the other room. They were alone. There were five paintings on either side of them with two across from each other on the opposite ends of the room. A thin velvet rope corded off the paintings, keeping hands at a safe distance. Clary spotted the camera hidden on the far left corner of the ceiling.

"Now."

Cas strode over to the painting smack in the middle. He stepped over the cord, ends of his coat brushing the rope. Cas grabbed the painting by its frame as Clary dug into her bag and pulled out two black sharpies. Cas held the painting for just a second before setting it down. Clary tossed him a sharpie. He caught it, uncapping it and drew a sigil. Clary glanced down at her sketch then back up at the wall. Cas drew it in thick lines. Lines that spoke of banishment, movement, and confusion. Its power made her skin flicker, like rain droplets on her arms. Something lifted in her chest. Ithuriel?

"So these sigils...do they seem strange to you?" Clary asked.

She fidgeted with her sharpie, twirling the pen over and over in her fingers. Cas finished, putting the painting back over its spot on the wall, hiding the mark. He went over, past to where Clary stood and went to the adjacent picture, repeating the process. Clary's phone went off again, and she took a look.

"These sigils are meant to banish. Alter them in the slightest and it can change their meaning, if not void them entirely. We have enough sigils to bounce an angel around to where we will want them."

"Ok good. Dean says we need to leave this room."

Cas nodded and put back the painting. This time it was Cas's phone that went off. He fumbled with it as they walked past the security guard strolling down the hall. Cas's fingers stumbled with the buttons. He hummed to himself.

"This room is too crowded. Dean suggests the stairwells."

Clary clutched her sketchbook tighter. "So we'll have to split up."

"Yes."

Cas took Clary's book from her and flipped the page. A different sigil decorated the page. A half circle with its right end tapering sharply to the sky. One whorl inside the half circle.

"Make sure to use this one."

"Alright. Let's meet back here."

"Yes."

Cas turned his attention to a large abstract painting. Clary looked around the room. The couple from the previous room stood across the way, whispering to themselves. A set of parents with their three children flitted from painting to painting. The father took pictures as the mother pointed at the painting to the left. The eldest child, a shaggy haired boy with skater pants was texting on his phone. He shared the bench with an older man wearing a dusty parka over a three piece suit. Clary glanced back at Cas. No one would be paying attention to a man enraptured with a brightly colored canvas.

A pang went through her as she watched him. For the life of her she couldn't remember the name of the piece of its artist and it happened to be one of her favorites. Blinking back unexpected tears, she shook her head and went off to the stairwell.

SPNTMI

Dean stared back and forth at the monitors. Cas was still in the same room, unmoving from his spot. The guard was still in the deserted room. He had sat down on the bench, rubbing at his eyes. The second and third guards we're patrolling their respective floors, with the second guard moving back and forth between the rooms quicker than the other guards. The one on the third floors stopped pacing to stand against the wall. Since he was the only one inside the closed exhibit, he didn't move.

The main attraction on the first floor, the mythical swords exhibit had the most traffic. The three guards and one tour guide were beginning to look frazzled. Even in the dim light, the space had enough nooks and crannies to be a help or hindrance depending on the situation. Frowning, he turned back to see Cas moving to the opposite stairwell just as Clary got to hers. She stood on the second landing in between the set of stairs. Staring up at the walls with her sketchbook balanced in her arms.

'It's clear.' He hit send.

Her saw her type a reply and the delay was only a minute.

'Where do you want this?'

'High as you can.'

Dean watched Clary nod to herself before acting. She looked down at the pad, then set it down and put the sharpie in between her teeth. The railing that divided the stairs and the wall had a noticeable gap even on the midsized monitor. Dean straightened in his chair as Clary put her hands on the railing. Hoisting herself onto the railing, her tennis shoes wobbling as she stood on the rails, hands splayed out and knees bent. Clary swayed and for a second, swung too far over. Gravity took control and flailed, arms shooting out. Her palms slammed into the wall. Dean winced. Movement caught the corner of his eye. He gazed at another screen. Cas had finished his sigils in the stairwell already. Dean picked up his phone, texting with only a cursory glance at the keys.

'Hey you find our ghost writer yet?'

Becky's response was immediate. 'Three libraries. Hitting up the last one!'

On the first floor, the group petered out. The family with the three kids dragged and whined at their parents to leave. Dead followed their march to the sword exhibit. After a few moments, the couple walked back into the adjacent room. The old man at the bench appeared to be asleep. The guard stared at him for a few moments, then tapped the old man on the shoulder and escorted him out. Dean fired off another text, this time to Cas.

'Clary's still in stairwell. Go back to the last floor. Now's your chance.'

'Ok.'

Dean followed Cas's stride back down to the first floor. Trench coat flapping behind him as he stepped over the rope and took down the painting her had admired earlier. Cas brandished the sharpie with fast strokes. Dean tore his gaze away to check for the security guard. He was still with the old man, helping him find his coat. Dean checked on Clary. She was balancing on his tiptoes, elbows out and touching the wall. Her sigil was correct despite the jagged lines. Dean looked back to Cas, who was on his second painting. The guard had taken the old man outside. Dean sent another text to both of them.

'Meet at the second floor.'

Clary hopped down from her perch and gripped the railing for a second, just as Cas put the painting back on the wall. Cas got to the second floor first but went through those rooms without a hitch. Cas and Clary raced to the paintings, setting to work in double time. Dean peered up at the third flood, to see the guard shift from foot to foot before hurrying down the hall and turning to the left to the men's room.

'Guard on three in bathroom. Hurry.'

Cas and Clary made it to the third floor in time. Clary flipped to another page. The array didn't come in crisp or clear and Dean didn't bother to try to enhance the clarity. It was enough to see the two of them shudder at the design. The room itself was spacious. The only entryway other than the stairs was the hallway that led to another adjoining room that had been cordoned off. Two tall stands cut it off with the thick black Velcro lines in between them. The exhibit itself showcased Ancient Egyptian artifacts. Fragments of stone with faded hieroglyphics, canonic jars, small statues of cats, jackal headed men, broken and shimmering jewelry. The main attraction was easy to spot.

A sarcophagus inlaid with gold and gems. It was molded in the iconic pose of arms crossed over the chest, a rod in one hand, a crook in the other. It was protected by a thick glass case. A small bronze plaque gave the mummy's identity, along with a blurb along the bottom. It was at least five feet off the ground by five foot length wise. It stood in the back of the room, not too far from the center. The rest of the items were lined up on the sides of the room. It gave the impression that the items put together into rows to give a clear view of the sarcophagi, with guests having to walk up a carpet to get a closer look, like paying homage.

'The ceiling.' Dean texted. 'Can you get up there?'

'Got an idea.'

Cas and Clary hurried over to the mummy case and got behind it. Cas continued to stand upright as Clary bent her knees, palms flat against the glass as she leaned forward. Cas watched as she adjusted herself and then together they pushed the case to the center of the room. Clary looked up, mouth moving but without audio, Dean had to read her lips. He fired off another text.

'What's wrong?'

'The ceiling's too high.'

Before Dean could respond, Clary climbed up onto the glass, still bent at an awkward angle. She slapped the glass with her free hand. When it held, she straightened up. Clary gestured for Cas to come up. The angel followed suit, standing on top of the sarcophagus. He frowned at whatever it was Clary was saying but then he cupped his hands together bending a bit as Clary put her hands on Cas's shoulders and her foot onto his cupped hands. Dean laughed as Cas gave her a boost on his shoulders. Clary scrambled to get her knees positioned as she rose up to putting her feet onto to Cas's shoulders. He gripped her ankles tight and she stretched her arms as far as they could go and set to work. Clary dragged the sharpie over the ceiling, eyes half closed, lips trembling and it didn't appear to be forming words. Her arms shook. Dean glanced back to the other monitor.

"Crap."

'Guard is coming back.'

Clary jumped, hands skidding over the ceiling. Cas removed a hand and Clary swayed. Dean clicked his tongue.

"Son of a bitch."

Cas grabbed his cell, lips moving and Clary bent down to grab his shoulders. Clary's sharpie went skittering to the floor and she leaned too far over his shoulders. Cas caught her and he kneeled down on the case. Clary's feet touched the carpet and raced to grab her sketchpad as Cas got off the casing and began to push it back to its proper spot. He stood behind it, motioning for Clary. She peered around.

"The hell you doin'?" Dean said.

The guard's shadow crept up past the entryway. Clary crouched down by the corner of it, fingers stretching towards what Dean assumed to be her sharpie. Dean saw her freeze up as the shadow got closer. He caught a glimpse of her wide eyes as she suddenly turned and bolted, hiding behind the sarcophagus with Cas. The security guard finally caught up with his shadow. He turned around, hands on her hips as he squinted into the corners of the room. The guard froze.

Dean's phone buzzed in that exact moment and her jumped. Dean picked it up, skimming past the message as he continued to stare at the monitor.

'At the library. Its closed, what do?'

The guard's face scrunched up for a moment before his head and shoulders gave a vicious shake. Even without the audio, Dean knew that sneeze was loud. Dean grabbed the radio off the desk and switched it to the proper channel.

"Hey, uh officer...Daniels?"

Static buzzed for a moment as Dean let go of the receiver. Thick sniffles then an even thicker voice. He sneezed again, loud enough to make Dean jump.

"Daniels here."

"Hey. It's the security booth. What's your location?"

"Third floor."

"Roger that. Could you come down to the ground level? Some young men gettin' a little rowdy in the sword exhibit."

"Copy that."

"Over and out."

Dean watched Officer Daniels power walk out of the exhibit and head down to the first floor. Dean's fingers flew over his cell.

'Ok hurry.'

He waited until Cas and Clary set everything back up again before her typed out his response to Becky.

SPNTMI

Becky tried not to squeal as she saw the message. Dean Winchester texting her of all people. Too bad Sam wasn't around but beggars couldn't be choosers and wasn't that Castiel a dream boat? No wonder Dean couldn't keep his eyes off him-

Her phone buzzed again, interrupting her ideas for slash fic.

'You need to-'

Becky nodded despite knowing that no one could see it. She rooted around in the trunk of her bug. A gleaming spare tire, the just as clean car jack, and a few old magazines strewn about. A scratchy blanket lumped in there since last July. She grabbed both the blanket and the car jack. Becky put them into the backseat and then dug about the glove compartment. A small little case with pink and yellow flowers adorning its plastic cover. She opened it up to see the DIY mani/pedi kit still intact. A few bobbi pins were clinging inside the folds of the case. Perfect. She round a compact mirror and a neck tie.

"MacGuyver time."

Since her bug was parked behind a tree, she kept the doors unlocked, making sure the sword was still in its hiding spot. The sun had already set from the overcast sky and the dark clouds still lingered. A lone streetlamp illuminated the lot and Becky skirted its wide beam. She found a telephone pole-not that it was her goal or difficult to find, but she had an idea of how to go about doing this. She went past the telephone pole, prowling around the library's exterior.

On the right hand side, past the dumpster and across from the environmental information and advocacy building next door was the small metal box with a warning label on its front. She opened the gear box's front lid. Flipping open her cell phone, the light shone on the inside of the box. A nest of wires packed out of their densely packed space. Grinning, she took out her mani/pedi kit.

The toenail clippers first. She used them to poke through the wires. Becky looked back and forth between the gear box and the telephone pole. The clippers nosed through a bit more until she found a thick black wire. Becky opened the clippers up and picked the wire, tugging it away from the others until it hung suspended alone. Becky took the other end of the clippers-the sharp little curve at the end and snipped the wire. Nothing happened. Becky tried again. Nothing happened again. Becky tried a third time, bracing against the box as her arms strained.

Snip.

The clippers gave a little metallic click as they came down against air. The lights from the buildings next door went out. The streetlamp behind her flickered and died. Against the sudden darkness, a few dogs barked in the distance.

Becky laughed. "Ooops."

Becky turned her cellphone back to the gear box, this time selecting a green wire. The one light left in the library shorted out, rendering the building dark.

"Phone line, phone line, phone line." Becky muttered.

She picked wires at random, finding one with green lines, but before she could clip it, her hand slipped, yanking the wire from the box. A few other wires tumbled loose, fraying around the edges as they tangled against each other. Tiny sparks flew and bit her hands. Becky yelped and pulled her hand away. She dropped her toenail clippers in the dead grass.

"Ah shit."

A humming noise slowly died away as Becky blew on her hand. She stared at the jumble of wires she pulled. Becky put her hand in her jacket pocket. With her hand wrapped in fabric, she tugged the stray wires as hard as she could. They came loose after a few tries.

"Good enough."

Becky lifted through the dead leaves to try and find the clippers but couldn't. She walked back over to the front of the building to the glass doors. A sign read 'closed', with hours of business taped on the inside of the glass. She grabbed her tools and took out a slim hairpin. She bent down like she had seen people do on TV and tried to pick the lock. Becky glanced back and forth, twisting so that her back was completely to the road. Tugging the door handle, she growled as it refused to budge. Becky gave it another minute before bending down, pressing her ear to the knob. The low click of the tumblers and the lock gave. Becky straightened up, back cricking as she took one more look at her surroundings.

Padding her way into the library, the only lights came from the buildings a block away. Becky found the security code box, the buttons for the numbers thick and she pressed them over and over with no real direction or sequence. Becky raced past the front desk and down the aisles of books. She raised her cell phone higher, its LED screen giving off a narrow beam of light. Beck bent behind a shelf and saw nothing but books. Without thinking, she pulled a thick leather bound volume off the shelf. Under her cell's light. The title glared up at her in no nonsense typeface.

'The mechanics of law vol. III'

Becky put it under her arm and stood up. She looked back the way she came, a little bit to the left was the downstairs section of the library. To the right, a few feet ahead were the bathroom. After a moment, she headed to the restrooms. Becky adjusted her things. The book under her arm, cell phone with its pale blue light in one hand and car jack dragging her arm down in the other. Becky pushed open the door to the boy's room with her shoulder. The cell's light scattered over the mirrors above the sinks, making long shadows across the stalls. There was a shift of the shadows and Becky ducked down to peek between the stalls. A shiver of movement.

"Found you." she crooned.

"...Becky?"

Chuck's voice shook. "Hang on, you could be possessed."

Becky squeaked. "Then you can test me. I can't believe we're doing this. We can test each other later. Just come out." She laughed. "My princess is finally in the right castle."

"Princess?"

"Yup. Now you have to do what I want in the bedroom. I got a new strap-on. So you can be Sam and I'll be Dean."

"Umm..."

"Come on, I've been following you all day. I deserve a treat."

Chuck gave a little huff of laughter. "You know it's usually your ex's that you stalk."

Before Becky could respond, there was a brief flash of rotating red and blue lights as the sound of an engine turned over. A familiar whirl of sound. Chuck unlocked his stall door and poked his head out. He turned to Becky.

"Uh, is that what I think it is?"

Becky shrugged. "Ooops?"

SPNTMI

Dean said goodbye to Mr. Jones, watching as the guards left after the visitors. There were fewer guards for the night shift. Only two patrolling the floors interchangeably. He watched them greet the second shift workers as the last dregs of visitors grabbed their coats. When the second shift left, third shift locked the doors behind them and shut off a majority of the lights. Few stayed on, such as the ones for the basement and storage. The security booth and the front desk. The dim amber of the lights made for a very soft glow. A few flood-light from the sword exhibit were kept on, aimed at the swords on display. All was quiet. He waited until both guards were far enough to text Cas and Clary.

'Come back.'

'The front entrance right?'

'Yeah. No one will be there for at least an hour and a half.'

He kept his eye out for the guards as Cas and Clary emerged from crates held in storage. The two guards were on separate floors. One on the first in the sword exhibit and the other on the second floor. His phone buzzed.

'Got Chuck. Update soon.'

"Let's get this party started."

Dean handled the monitor's control panel and began to erase the days' worth of security footage. He gathered up what he had and made his way to the front entrance where people brought their tickets. He met Cas and Clary halfway. They stood in the center of the room. The receptions desk was at their right and coat room on their left.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Clary said.

"Indeed."

Dean pulled out a piece of chalk from his pocket and began to draw a circle. Clary watched, entrance by the lines that spoke of summoning. Dean chanted, the power of the words shook her. Ithuriel supplied her mind for the name of the language. Enochian. The lights from the reception desk flickered. A slow pace until it kept building to a frantic strobe light-like and then held, glowing bright. Clary and Dean held up their hands to shield their faces. The light bulbs exploded. A shout from farther down the hall. Clary twisted her head and when she looked back, a broad balding man in a black three piece suit. Clary froze.

His smile pinned her in place. Her eyes darted back and forth between the new angel and Dean and Cas. They glared at him. Something bristly was happening to the air. The two angels were shifting their stances. Clary looked to Dean. His expression didn't change, although his hand went closer to the gun she knew he kept on his person. A rustling noise grew louder and Clary could have sworn she saw feathers. Clary caught the angel's gaze and shuddered.

"I don't think we've met." he said.

"Zachariah." Dean growled. "Your beef is with me. We're here to talk."

"Talk?" Zachariah smirked. "This has trap written all over it."

Dean scowled. "I could say the same. So how bout' we be civil-"

Zachariah laughed. Clary's back stiffened, breaking out into a sweat. His voice spiraled high.

"Hey! You guys over there!" the security guard ran out from inside the sword exhibit. He spoke rapidly into the receiver radio on his shoulder. "Hey, stay right there."

Zachariah tutted. "That's just-"

"No!" Dean shouted.

Zachariah turned back over to Dean.

"Leave him alone, you're here for me."

Zachariah strode to Dean raised his hands, palms up. His walk was slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a skittish horse. His hands got closer, fingers spidering up Dean's jacket. Dean's lips pulled back, pink gums bright against the ashen color of his face. Zachariah's fingers curled around Dean's arm. Cas pushed Zachariah's hand, slamming into his chest as grabbed Dean's shoulder. Clary blinked. They were gone. Zachariah turned to her.

"Did you know about this?"

Clary gasped. She spun around and sprinted. She flailed her arms to the two security guards.

"Get out of here!"

Zachariah appeared in front of her. He flashed a sneer.

"Quick question. Why run from something you can't outrun?"

Clary slashed out with her stele. Zachariah blinked, pursing his lips. He pointed at her stele, but Clary ran. Staggering back and racing into the sword exhibit. The guards tried to grab her but she ducked away from their arms.

"Run!"

The flood lights shone down on the sword, shadows in sharp relief. Her eyes watered. The sword of St. George displayed in the very center of the room, set in a glass case with a bronze plaque. She turned in time to see the two guards rush Zachariah, who raised his hand. Bright light enveloped the room. A curious heat overtaking the room. Clary covered her head with her arms, doubling over as she staggered back and her back slapped the case. The guards' screams reverberated, the wide room amplifying the sounds of agony.

The light disappeared as quickly as it came. Light faded. Clary blinked the spots out of her eyes. Smoke steamed from the guards. Clary bent down to them, biting back a scream. Deep pits where the eyes had been, still oozing red with mouths frozen in screams. Her vision tunneled and Clary fumbled for the railing behind her as Zachariah appeared in her dwindling field of vision.

"You really didn't think this through." he gave a little chuckle.

Clary looked up into his eyes. The greyness of them, the way they narrowed into slits. The lack of warmth. His lips twisted until his mouth was no longer making a smile. His tone was light, but each word burned with malice.

"If this is the best a Nephilim can do, then I've got nothing to worry about."

Clary leaned to the side, shaking as her hand went behind the podium and slapped the banishing sigil drawn underneath the sword's display case. Zachariah shouted as the blast made his wings flare out before he disappeared. Clary wobbled to her feet. She looked back at the two guards. They slumped against each other, blood drying along down their eyes and cheeks.

"I'm sorry." she said.

Clary hurried into the next room to find Cas and Zachariah already there. Zachariah had an angel blade, advancing on Cas with slow steps. Cas had his back to the to the painting he was admiring earlier. Clary kept a wide berth, darting to the sigil hidden behind the other painting. Zachariah scoffed.

"Please. As if your little trap is gonna work." He laughed. "Guys, no need to shepherd me, I know my way around."

Clary hefted the picture off the wall. Zachariah lunged at Cas, blade gleaming. Clary threw the picture. It missed, landing at Zachariah's feet with a loud smack. He glanced at Clary. Cas nodded at her, spinning around to take the painting off the wall. Together the two activated the sigils. Again Zachariah disappeared. Clary shuddered.

"The ones on the stairwell-"

"They'll do the rest for us. He'll be on the third floor shortly."

Clary hurried after Cas, taking the steps two at a time and reached the third floor, banging open the door. The floodlights on the ground flickered, lighting up the artifacts and giving them long, ghostly shadows. The sarcophagus was shoved to the side, opposite where it had been before. It was the only piece that appeared undamaged. Zachariah stood in the corridor's entryway.

"About time." He took a few steps forward into the room. "Hurry up and spring this trap of yours."

Clary swallowed.

"If you insist." Cas said.

He dashed to Zachariah. His blade caught the glare of the floodlights, blazing as Cas swept up the blade high. With a slight tilt of his head, Zachariah dodged. With one gestured of his hand, Cas was yanked backwards off his feet and flung into the center of the room. He fell hard on the floor. His angel blade rolling away to rest at the feet of a cat headed idol. Cas struggled to right himself as Zachariah held his hand up again. Cas shouted and his foot kicked a floodlight.

Zachariah stood over Cas, the light shining up at an eighty degree angle, glaring into the angel's face. Harsh shadows gave deadly planes to his face. He was sharper, longer, and taller. Clary squinted. The shadows were gathering themselves behind Zachariah, thicker than light. The air hummed and the shadows pulled themselves up, as if they had substance.

Cas's eyes darted up and Zachariah followed his gaze. The floodlight illuminated the array perfectly, each thick line curving into a form of power. Lines that spoke of control, entrapment, draining. Clary could remember every detail of the summoning circle that bound Ithuriel. Now Zachariah looked up at it, eyes flashing and for a second his ugly expression twisting even further until Clary realized no human face could really move that way. She bit back the urge to scream and Zachariah's face smoothed back into its more comfortable leer. He wagged a finger at Cas, tutting. He raised his index finger, pointing it straight at the array. Energy hummed and Clary wasn't sure how he was doing it and suddenly cracks appeared in the ceiling, breaking the lines in the circle.

"Back to the drawing board."

Wings billowed up, engulfing the room as Zachariah looked down at Cas. Blue eyes narrowed at the other angel. Zachariah made no comment and the humming in the air intensified. Zachariah's wings took a different shape, becoming pointed. They darted, slanting forward, like blades pointed at the throat. Clary darted to the sarcophagus. Ducking behind it, she gripped the handle of her stele. She drew on the side of the sarcophagus. The glass case burned as the tip of the stele dragging along its surface.

Her arm ached, heat travelling down to her fingertips as he hand seemed to move of its own accord to pen this mark.

"Push."

As soon as pulled away, the sarcophagus shot forward. It slammed into Zachariah. Cas scrambled out of the way, just in the nick of time. He stood up, backpedaling away and kept his distance. Zachariah got to his feet. He straightened his suit.

"Ok, you know what-"

The snick n' hiss of a match being struck. A tiny orange glow as the lit match hit the ground. The minute pause of darkness before the flames shot up. Zachariah stood in a ring of holy fire. Dean stepped forward, expression between determination and triumph. Zachariah's face had blanched in fury.

"What, no peppy comeback?" Dean said.

"Don't need one. I've got the Michael sword in my grasp."

"Not quite." Cas said.

The three advanced. Zachariah eyed them. He sighed.

"I take it you want information." Where I've squirreled Chuck away to for example?"

"Not really." Dean said.

SPNTMI

"Ok climb out the window."

"Are you kidding me?

Becky shoved Chuck, hands slamming into his back. He cut off a yelp. The window was no more than four feet above the ground. Chuck pulled himself up to the ledge, a small space before the window. His feet dangled as he fumbled with the latch. It unlocked with a loud click. They froze. A creak came from somewhere in the front of the building.

"Go go go go." Becky hissed.

Chuck's legs flailed and Becky grabbed them, pushing him up. Chuck's hands pressed against the warped glass. It groaned before giving way. His hands shot out, a sharp chill hitting his palms. Chuck gripped the ledge of the windowsill. Sweat slicked his grip. He slid down a fraction. Becky grunted in protest. She shoved hard and his knees smacked onto the sill. Chuck pulled himself until he was halfway out the window. His legs kicked a second before slipping out of the window and pitching him into the grass.

Becky slid the book out the window, then threw the phone and the car jack. She jumped up and followed suit. Scrambling off the cold grass, Chuck got to his feet quicker. He picked up her phone and and car jack. Becky brushed dead leaves off her jeans and took back her phone. When Chuck held out her car jack, she pushed it back to him.

"You hang on to that."

"Yeah, but-"

"Hello, who's there?"

Becky picked up the library book as Chuck hopped from foot to foot. She waved him off but before he could bolt, a young man in police uniform jogged over to them. His flashlight beamed at them in a wide spotlight. Becky raised a hand. The cop's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them and his mouth moved in a tight line.

"What's going on here?"

Becky laughed and the officer winced. She held up her book.

"Ummm...I really hate late fees?"

"Right. You two come with me."

Without thinking, Becky flung the book at the cop's head. The brought his hands up, flashlight skittering onto the pavement. Becky drowned out his shout with one of her own.

"Run."

Chuck didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted across the parking lot.

"Hey!"

Becky ran after Chuck and the cop gave chase.

"Get back here."

"So what exactly do you plan to do?"

"Plan?" Dean asked.

Zachariah laughed. "This is it? After all, I hold all the cards, holy fire or not. I've got you and the prophet-"

"I know." Dean said.

Dean eyed the ring of fire, tis light flickering back and forth over his face. He spun on his heel and jerked his head to the stairwell.

"We'll find you boy, rib tagging or not-" Zachariah yelled. "Can't say no this-"

"Yeah yeah."

Dean wrenched open the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time. Clary's hand skimmed over the railing. They raced across the first floor, out of the emergency doors and through the parking lot. The parking garage was deserted. Dean clambered over a barrier. Clary slowed and eased herself over the barricade. Dean extended a hand and she slid down the rest of the way. She slid into the backseat of the truck, barely putting her seatbelt on as Dean pealed out of the lot.

"Cas, call Becky."

Cas pulled the phone out of his pocket. Becky picked up on the first ring. Voice higher than usual as she rattled off her directions and recap of events. Dean turned down a lane and went into the parking lot of an old-fashioned drive in diner. Becky's bug rested in a parking space. Dean pulled up and parked beside her.

Very few customers littered the lot. Waitresses' weaved on rollerblades with trays of food as they skated past. Dean and Cas stood outside the truck as Clary leaned forward in the backseat. The door was open and her legs dangled above the pavement. Becky scrambled out and had to unlock Chuck's door. The prophet lay in the backseat, letting his knees rest the frame of the car.

"Is it over?" he groaned.

"You're the prophet, you tell us." Dean said.

"I doubt the holy fire will keep Zachariah for long." Cas said.

Dean nodded. "All the more reason to get this show on the road." He pointed to Chuck. "We've got room. Let's get the lead out."

Chuck sat up. "What?"

"You heard. Zachariah's used you to get to us, which makes you a target. It's safer to come with us."

Chuck stared at Dean. His lips twitched but he didn't speak. Cars idled behind them, roller blades skimmed the pavement, and customers chatted with each other. His gaze went back down to his shoes. Chuck's eyes glazed over, not seeing. He sat that way for a few minutes before looking back up at Dean.

"Ok then."

Becky's gaze darted back and forth between the two men, rocking on her heels. Clary's stomach growled. She flushed but only Dean and Becky's attention flickered over once.

"Ok, then I get the window seat." Becky said.

"What?"

"Well I'm coming with you."

Dean shook his head. "Not gonna happen."

Becky's face fell. "I-"

"No. It's too dangerous. Do you have some place to stay?"

She nodded, still quiet.

"Ok. Go there tonight. Cas can fix you up with a hex bag."

"Alright." Cas said. "Although it's not a guarantee."

"That's ok." Becky said, voice soft.

"I need a few things." Chuck said.

Dean sighed. "Sure. In and out." He looked over at Clary. "I'm starving. What do you want? Becky? It's on me."

Clary shrugged. "Anything's fine. Thanks."
Becky stood up. "I'll come with you."

Cas followed suit. "I'll join you."

Cas and Dean headed to the restaurant. Becky squeezed Chuck's shoulder before catching up with the other two, leaving Clary and Chuck in the parking lot. They stared at each other. Chuck gave a little laugh.

"So..."

"So..."

"You doing ok? You did get kidnapped by an angel."

Chuck smiled quick and small. "So all things considered, not bad for a Tuesday."

Clary smiled back. "Like all other Tuesdays then huh? So...it's always like this."

He pursed his lips. "Fraid' so."

"So this is what I wanted?" Clary whispered. "A life of scars and killing. Lucky me."

"What?"

Clary shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing." She cleared her throat. "So, how did it go? The plan on your end I mean?"

"Good, good. Everyone survived and we've still got the sword."

"Yeah?"

Clary looked at the overcast sky. In the distance, lightening flashed. She shivered. If she squinted hard enough up at the clouds, she could imagine wings behind the weather.

"Alright, so where's the sword?"

"Oh, it's in the backseat."

Chuck leaned back and twisted so that he lay on his stomach. Wiggling, he disappeared into the car. Grunting, he shifted until he was sitting up, sword halfway in his lap and his hands shook as he tried to hold the sword. He turned so that he was facing Clary and leaning halfway out of the bug. Maellartach dragged behind him. As he pulled the sword forward, one of the zip ties broke. Clary leaned forward, hands outstretched.

The beach blanket slumped, sliding past the hilt and revealing a bit of the blade. Chuck's hand shook and the towel slipped more. It unraveled and dangled over the pavement. Chuck's hand slipped. He yelped and Maellartach fell out of his grip. Clary and Chuck reached for it at the same time. Clary grabbed the hilt and Chuck the blade. They caught the sword simultaneously. Catching the hilt was like plunging her hand in ice water. Pins and needles sensations traveled up her arms, getting as far as her chest before transitioning to being engulfed in fire. Clary shook, shuddering beyond her control, except for the hand that held onto Maellartach. As if it were stuck to her hand. Her vision shorted out, points of light dancing across her eyes. Then she couldn't see.

"Ithuriel!"

The earth was shaking. She was outside of her body, pushed out by fire and light. She was vaguely aware of her mouth moving. Ithuriel was whirling beside her. Clary turned to look at the pulsing light.

"I can see you."

The light beat in a slow and easy pattern. Warmth went through her-couldn't tell if it was coming from her or Ithuriel.

"Us. It comes from us."

"What's happening?"

Her vision came back. Images, sensations, and emotions shot into her. She saw a red haired girl with bright gold eyes staring back her. Pain so sharp and clear as that face gazed back at her with love. Love she had never seen before, never-

"Yes, yes I understand-"

She heard it from far away, her own voice speaking to her. The scene was changing rising up, rising through to the stars with a pair of wings all her own. She could see the turn of the universe, holding its own as she moved through it. Clary wanted to see those gold eyes again, that sweet smile that was going to make so many people happy-

"Clary!"

Her eyes opened. She snapped back to the drive in diner. Her knees burned. Clary realized she was kneeling on the pavement. Chuck beside her, hands on her shoulders, shaking her.

"Hey, hey can you hear me?"

"...Yeah."

"You ok? What happened?"

"I don't know. I just-" She frowned. "You felt that right?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. Yeah like a bunch of knowledge got dumped into my brain."

He let her shoulders go ant tried to stand up. Clary grabbed his elbows and together they got up. Clary led Chuck to the backseat of the truck. She went back and threw the beach towel over Maellartach. Careful not to touch the sword with her bare hands. When she put it in the back seat, she went around the other side of the truck and sat down next to him. It was while before either of them spoke.

"Is that really going to happen?" she asked.

Chuck looked at his hands. "I think...I think that's up to you."

Clary took a breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. The whole world encompassed inside a truck. Focus on that. Breathe in. Breathe out. It began to rain.

SPNTMI

TBC...