I got my stuff back pretty quickly, and summoned Karma as soon as I could. "Mind if she rides in the back?" I asked Castiel. He stared from the hellhound back at me.

"You travel with a hellhound?" He asked.

"Her name is Karma."

"You travel with a hellhound named Karma?" He looked so… stupefied by the notion.

"She's a good dog." I promised. "Won't pee in the bed of the truck, I promise."

"Fine." He said. I smiled.

"Great. Thanks!" I kneeled down in front of the girl in question as he got in the truck. "You're gonna ride in the back, OK?" She keened a little, looking down. "Hey, I know you wanted to be in on the big D action," I assured the dog, scratching behind her ear. "And I promise, if I'd been able to I would've called you back in a heartbeat. I'm sorry I couldn't, but I'm not mad, OK?" I kept scratching, waiting a few minutes.

There's no way to describe what hellhound spit feels like. It's a weird viscous thing, that kind of disappears after a few moments like it's being dissolved, but dissolved downwards.

Very difficult ingredient to preserve, but not one I needed at the moment. Right then, I had a happy dog licking my face.

"Good girl!" I crooned, smiling. "Alright, hop in the back, and no biting." She complied, and the back of the truck shifted slightly under her weight. They had already picked up my motorcycle, at some point, and it had been pretty well anchored down (I was certain Dean and Sam had done that). I opened up my laptop, and set the a few programs to run in hopes of getting a hit on Lucifer. Any pings would be sent straight to my phone.

"Hey, Castiel," I walked around to his side of the car. "Where are we going, anyways?"

"Crowley has a safehouse that I have supplies stored at." He explained. "You can follow us there. It will be a bit of a drive."

"Sounds great." I took a glance over at Crowley, who was already seated in shotgun. Utah?

Yep.

Bastard. He said I could use that spot for a home, and he takes Castiel there? Why?!

Then again, I hadn't really used it. I'd been living with Mrs. Tran.

I followed them dutifully, stopping when they stopped for gas, and in turn they stopped when I requested one (usually because I'm human or because I knew Karma wanted to stretch her legs and get some food). Without fail, whenever I got out with them some sort of music was being blasted from the truck, with one person grinning like a loon and the other looking like they wanted to blow up the world for kicks.

About halfway through, they offered to help me get my motorcycle in the truck bed so I could ride with them. "You can have shotgun." Castiel offered, earning a miffed look from Crowley.

"That's my seat!"

"And I think I'll pass." I added. "As much as I would love to complete the start-up to an awful joke, I think it's better with me riding behind you guys."

"Alright."

That was probably the longest conversation I had with Castiel the whole trip.

But we finally did get to the cabin in Utah, around dusk. It was a long ride. I was still human.

"I'm taking a shower and making a few calls." I told them. My phone hadn't pinged with anything useful the whole trip, which I took as a good sign. "You two just…" I motioned between the odd pair. "Don't kill each other."

"No promises." Castiel murmured. I stifled a laugh as Crowley rolled his eyes.

"You're in love with me, feathers. Admit it." Crowley dared. I disappeared in to the room I had occupied last time, grabbing a few spare clothes from it so I could change.

The shower felt nice, and gave me a few minutes to think. What in the hell was I doing here?

I had a hellhound, currently running around outside enjoying herself. I had a surrogate mom a state or two and multiple hours of driving away. I had a demon in the main room, with an angel, talking strategy and getting supplies and who knows what else. The demon happened to have trained me in witchcraft, and the angel was once engaged to a certain human female that, OH LOOK, WAS ME.

Until I went witch, and made my choice. Until I saw that Dean and Sam would hate me for my choice, and that it would cause problems.

Until I saw that I was right, and they didn't trust witches no matter what.

"Fuck." I muttered. This was not a good situation. I had been a HOMELESS GIRL a few years ago! And now…

Now I was tangled up in all sorts of drama and problems.

I turned off the water once I was done, and just stood there for a little bit. I wasn't wearing the disguise (no point when you're alone showering).

I could look in the mirror again, and see me. Actual, real me.

I wrapped a towel around myself, making sure the door was closed before I wiped off some steam from the small mirror.

I looked different with the red hair, that was for certain. More… Angular, I guess is the right word. More explosive. More dangerous. I wasn't afraid to be identified.

My eyes, on the other hand… Guarded. Hard. Still. Focused. There was a new scar on my forehead, just barely concealed by my hairline. Small, thin, curved.

Must've been from the ghost case. That's what I told myself. Because I didn't remember that little scar being there, I didn't remember getting hurt, I didn't remember my face having that scar before.

But it was there now.

I got dressed quickly, determined to not crack the mirror but instead keep my back to it. I put back on the Diana disguise, and walked out to rejoin the pair once more.

"Hey, I know we're on a schedule, and time is of the essence," I said. "But I'm starving, I'm tired, and we just went over 15 hours on the road after an extremely stressful night. Is it alright if I crash out here for a few hours?"

"How long have you been awake?" Crowley asked. I thought for a few moments. I'd rolled in to California maybe three days ago and… Lucifer had gotten me. I hadn't slept.

"Since I got to LA." I said. "Plus a few extra hours from drive time to get there."

Once I said it out loud, I felt a wave of tired wash over me. I hadn't slept in a long time, nor particularly eaten good food. I was just… I was drained.

I was actually impressed I could keep the disguise up. If I didn't get some food and sleep in me, though, it would drop.

"Burgers sound good?" He asked, standing.

"Wait, Crowley, hold on," I started to object. I could go get the food. I could go.

I could avoid being alone with Castiel.

But before I could finish, Crowley was already gone.

"Bastard." I hissed under my breath, staying in the doorway. Castiel remained seated, leafing through a book. One of my notebooks I'd scribbled in.

"This language…" He cocked his head to the side, and I froze internally.

I still wrote everything in Pictish Swirl.

I moved towards him, and grabbed the notebook quickly from his hands. "It's a hobby." I said hastily. "I write theoretical ideas on stuff that may or may not work in a few of these. Kind of embarrassed by it. Mind not snooping again?"

"Why is it here?"

"Excuse me?"

"That notebook," he pointed to the object. "It was already here, on a small bookshelf."

"So?"

"You followed us here." He said. "But you've been here before."

"Maybe I brought it with me." I offered. "Or gave it to Crowley to stash somewhere."

"No." He said, shaking his head. "It was here the last time I was here, on that bookshelf."

"Well, he did ask me to summon the Devil." I said. "Did you think that maybe he kept one of the books I scribbled in, to analyze and try and go all freaky mind guy on me?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind." I said, shaking my head. "Look, all my notebooks have a little DN here, see?" I opened the inside of the front cover, and showed him the letters I'd carefully etched in. "If you see that, don't snoop."

"But why is it here?"

"I said don't snoop." I repeated, walking over to the bookshelf to put it back. "Please, just… Give me some privacy in my life."

When I turned back around to look at him, I saw he was clasping something, something around his neck.

When had he started wearing a necklace?

Once he noticed my gaze, he stuffed the item quickly back inside his shirt. What had it been? A cross? A charm? And again, when in the hell had he started wearing a necklace? I liked the cord, personally. Simple, effective, sturdy. But why?

"What's that?" I asked, motioning to my own neck. I couldn't see any outline of what he might've been clasping under his shirt.

"Nothing of your concern." He replied, his voice like stone. I sighed, turning to the little kitchenette.

"You want any water?" I asked, walking to get some. I could just as easily just make it happen, but… I didn't want to do that right now.

"No."

"Alright." I got myself a glass and walked towards the door. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"Outside." I stated obviously. He glared, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "I need to make a phone call. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He didn't stop me as I walked out the door. I thought for a minute before walking out a little farther, setting my glass down in front of a tall tree.

I didn't need to climb it, but I did anyways. I climbed as high as I could, got comfy among the branches, and summoned my glass of water to float beside me.

Then I called Mrs. Tran. "Hey," I said, keeping my voice quiet.

"Kylie!" She exclaimed. "Oh my God where have you been?"

"I… Um…" I thought on the best way to answer that. "Can I just say that you really won't like that answer, and not actually answer you?"

"Kylie." She said, her voice warning.

"I promise, you don't want to know." I said. "You really don't want to know."

"That bad?"

"Yeah." I shuddered a little, still seeing Lucifer's red eyes in the back of my mind. Then the face morphed to Castiel's, with red eyes like Lucifer and a sickening grin. I reached for my throat, fighting the memory away. Mrs. Tran was talking still. I needed to focus. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last bit."

"When are you coming back?" She asked. I let out a small sigh.

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "I… Lucifer is going to go bigger, he said it himself. I've got to help stop him."

"Do they know it's you?" I shook my head.

"No."

"Who are you with now?"

"Castiel and Crowley."

"You're with Castiel?"

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I… I'm scared." I answered honestly. "He almost saw it was me. I… I could barely keep the disguise together."

"Why did you?"

"Dean and Sam… They wanted to kill me."

"They didn't know it was you."

"They would've if they did know." I stated. "Trust me, they hate witches. They'd hate me even more. And now, if Castiel finds out…" I took a deep breath. "He'll probably hate me too. They'll all hate me even more. It's better if they just don't know. I can put up with them wanting to kill a person they barely know. If they knew it was me and…"

And I had to see the looks on their faces again, the looks of hatred and betrayal when they learned it was me. It didn't matter that I'd tried to help them – that I'd taken the mark for them, that I'd sacrificed everything I could for them, that I'd given up everything again so that they wouldn't remember me in hatred.

I had had faith once before that they would still care about me, but not anymore.

"Let's just say that I won't be able to take it." I summed up. "I really don't think I will."

"Alright." Mrs. Tran said. "Are you going to be OK?"

"I will be." I promised. "When this is all over with, and I can get some distance."

"Poor kiddo." She let out a sigh. "Well, call me when you can, and let me know when you're on your way home."

"I will. Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I was just worried about you."

"Thank you."

"Don't worry about it."

"I gotta go." I said. I didn't actually need to, but I wanted a little bit of time alone.

"Alright. You be safe, alright?"

"I will."

And I hung up. I sat there for a while, just thinking and trying to calm down a little bit. I was tired, very tired, and very… just… done with the world. I remembered when I questioned whether it was worth saving or not. I still questioned it some days, whether it was all worth it or not. I mean, we just got rid of Amara, and what did we get next? Lucifer back out again. And before Amara, we almost had a demon Dean that would've destroyed us all. Before that, Metatron was after it. And before that… I dunno. Leviathans at some point, but without me.

No matter what, the world was determined to end, and I couldn't help but question again why we didn't just let it.

Then again, I'd met God. Shouldn't that speak for something? He wanted his world to live on, he'd been willing to sacrifice himself for it.

But not originally. Originally, he was ready to just die, whether his world lived on or not.

He may have changed his mind, but still…

I let out a small sigh. "I wish life wasn't so hard."

I finished my water and stared up at the sky a little longer, wondering if the stars would somehow tell me all the answers I wanted. I put my hands up, thinking as to what I wanted to do.

I wanted to remember happier times. That was what I wanted to do. "Ostende mihi cor meum." Show me my heart.

I saw myself with my mom, first. She was helping me with a project when I was little… Macaroni art, of all things. I think I was trying to re-create a family picture or something. I wasn't certain on the details.

I remember mom helping me clean up the glue, though. I'd spilled almost half of the tube on to the table. "It's alright to make mistakes." She assured me. "So long as you try to fix them afterwards."

"And what if I don't succeed?"

"Don't think like that." She responded. "Planning for failure is never a good thing."

The scene changed, and I was homeless, standing in the middle of an alley. It sucked. I hated those times. Why is this my heart, then?

Then I understood.

I was praying, for the first time in my life. "Dear God, I don't know how to do this well. I don't know how to pray, or believe properly, or anything that you would expect from someone trying to get a phone call with you. Hell, I don't even know what to say." I shrugged then, keeping my eyes open and my head facing skyward.

God, those eyes. That would be what kept getting me. My eyes looked so… So much more innocent and hopeful, believing in something I wasn't certain about yet. I was at the end of my rope, then, but at the same time I had some sort of faith.

I actually believed that something could happen.

"I guess I'll start with thank you. For the church guy who was preaching against homosexuality when he was getting some dick on the side. That guy and his flock had been harassing some other homeless friends of mine. Thank you for making him stop, for revealing that it doesn't matter whether Harry likes Sally or Joe. Thank you for the KKK, for stopping them and causing them to disband. And thank you for Rodriguez, for healing him. You may not remember who he is, but there was a homeless man on the sidewalk, more than likely begging for change. You stopped by, talked to him, and gave him his sight back. He called me afterwards and told me all these different colors and sights and was so excited that he started talking in Spanish half the time, but he was so happy... I haven't seen or heard Rod be truly that happy until that phone call."

I hadn't seen Rodriguez for a long time, now. I hoped he was still alright, still safe.

I hoped he had helped himself like he wanted to, and gotten a better life. Last time I had spoken to him, he was trying to get a job. I hoped he got it.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to ask for anything. I feel like when people pray, a lot of times they're asking for forgiveness or help or the winning lotto numbers. I don't like asking people for help, I never have, and even though you're God I still think you're people, kind of, because I've seen people do good things and bad things, and you've done a lot that can be thrown either way, but I'm gonna call the majority of it pretty good and ok by me. So thank you for doing something. Thank you for caring about these people, and for helping my friends. Thank you for showing me that God is here, and that he cares."

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe the faith I saw in myself. The belief and hope and ability to take a chance on believing in something that should've been impossible.

And he actually showed up.

The scene changed again. Short. Simple. Five words. "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT!"

And again. Cas was dying. I saved him. Castiel angry. Me angry. Neither of us certain about a lot of things.

Red eyes. Always those red eyes. For a moment, I caught a flash of something I didn't remember, taking Billie's hand as I stared up at the stars, but it flitted away just as quickly. Must've been from a nightmare.

Everything I saw made me hurt more and more, until I couldn't take it anymore and I shut it down. I was only torturing myself, anyways.

That was when I stood, and simply fell back to the ground. For a moment, I considered not doing anything, and just… Just letting myself hit the ground. I was pretty high up. The fall would kill me easily.

But at the last second, I stopped maybe two inches above the earth, on my back, just thinking.

I walked back to the cabin with an empty glass, and an emptier heart.

But I stopped when I heard them talking. Crowley was back, and someone had opened a window.

"You thought it was her," Crowley's gravelly voice was what I heard first. I stopped, feeling as though I shouldn't go in just yet. "Didn't you?"

"It doesn't matter." Castiel stated, his voice monotonous. "I was wrong. It wasn't her."

"You haven't gone to see her yet, have you?" The demon asked. "In Heaven?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't believe any of this is your business, Crowley." Now his voice was taught, still. This wasn't a line of questioning he wanted to continue.

"You almost mistook my protégé for your dead fiancée." Of course Crowley continued anyways. "You've been taking this hunt for Lucifer more serious than anything else I've seen you do, more focused. If we're going to work together, and you're going to be working with said protégé, I believe that it is some of my business."

"Leave it be, Crowley." The order was clear, precise. I could almost feel the anger bubbling underneath.

"Not until you give me some sort of answer."

"You want to hear an answer?!" Something slammed on to the table, presumably Castiel's fist. "You want to know why I can't see her?!"

"Well, yes, I do!" Crowley countered. "Since you bloody well keep wearing her damn ring, it really makes no sense that you haven't!"

He wore it? That was what was around his neck?

"I CAN'T!" He shouted, breaking me from disappearing in to my own head. I heard the pop of a lightbulb go out. I could imagine both men staring each other down, neither one willing to give any ground. "IT'S MY FAULT, CROWLEY." Castiel admitted, his voice getting just a little quieter as he went. "It's my fault she's dead. I made my choice, and she wouldn't do anything to betray the Winchesters. She couldn't do it. Kylie was good, she was determined and smart and had morals and beliefs and would've…" He paused for a second. "Well, it doesn't matter what she would've done, she's dead." Another pause. "And when I saw Diana with a knife in her stomach…"

"Oh." That was all Crowley said. I didn't understand for a moment. What was the "oh" for? "I'm sorry, mate."

"I saw her, when it was her dying the first time." Castiel's voice wavered for a fraction of a second. "But she came back. She managed to come back. And now…" I could almost see the shake of his head. "She's not coming back, and it's my fault, because I killed her."

"It's not your fault."

"It is. I let Lucifer out." Castiel argued. "Not Sam. Not Dean. Not Rowena. Not you. I'm the one that said yes. I'm the one that anchored him to Earth. I'm the one who made those choices. Nobody made them for me, I did. This is my mess, Crowley, and nobody else's."

"So what about Diana?"

"What about her?" Castiel asked. I felt myself sinking inside. "She's your protégé, like you said. A powerful witch. It'll be easier to use her than Rowena."

"Are you alright working with her?" Crowley asked.

"She's not Kylie." Castiel said. "She's not my fiancée. She doesn't look like her, sound like her, act like her, or do anything like her." He took a deep breath before saying those final, damning words.

"It was just a mistake."

I didn't go back inside for a while. I just floated on to the roof, and thought. All I could hear though were those fucking words, though.

She's not Kylie. It was just a mistake.

She doesn't look like her. It was just a mistake.

She doesn't sound like her. It was just a mistake.

It's not her. It was just a mistake.

I wasn't even a person to him, I was an it. A thing. Just an item without humanity or life or emotion. "I'm a person, Castiel." I said. "I'm not an it, I'm a me, and I'm right here." I whispered. "I'm right here, and I miss you."