Since they're pretty short I decided to go ahead and upload two chapters tonight, chapters 34 and 35.

As this story (which takes place during season 11) draws to a close, and I start the next part of Jody's House for Wayward Girls (which will take place during season 12), would you guys be interested in me letting you know when the new story is up? I can private message you on here, or if you'd prefer me to email it to you, feel free to private message me your email/preferred contact info! That way you can stay up to date with the story? Let me know!

Update on uploading: I plan on having this finished by Christmas (hopefully) and the beginning of the second one up by New Year!

Alex didn't like having time alone to herself these days. In the few days that had gone by after her saying goodbye to Kevin, she felt empty. She had never had stability in her life, between moving from place to place with a group of nomadic vampires, to moving in with a part-time hunter and still managing to get involved in dangerous missions, nothing was ever still.

But Kevin was. He was always a phone call away, or giving her signs he was there. He was a constant comfort to her. Her first friend, before Claire, before Sara, before any of this. He'd been there. And now he just wasn't.

It killed her a little bit.

She heard Chuck enter the room. She wasn't surprised – of all the people who didn't sleep, Chuck was at the top of the list.

"It's pretty late," he said, joining her. She was in a corner of the library with an electric lantern set up, reading through lore on witches.

"I don't sleep very well lately," she replied, turning a page.

"I know," Chuck said sympathetically. "Can I sit down?"

Alex hesitated, but nodded, and he sat across from her. He crossed his legs, picking up a book and leafing through it.

"Kevin . . . that was never supposed to happen," he said quietly.

Alex looked at him for a moment. He was frowning, but only slightly, eyes on the book in front of him. Alex took a deep breath and glanced back at the dust covered pages in front of her.

"Yeah," she said.

"His whole life was planned out when I created him. He was going to go to Princeton, graduate top of his class, settle down, have a few kids. But then Dick Roman happened and there had to be a prophet . . . it changed his entire timeline. There are people in this world that won't ever exist because Kevin Tran is dead."

Alex swallowed. "You're God," she whispered.

"I'm Chuck," he sighed.

"Can't you just . . . can't you bring him back?"

Chuck smiled sadly. "Your timeline changed, too, you know," he began, and Alex felt a pang of annoyance as he ignored the question. "The moment you started thinking about selling your soul to get him back. Yes, Alex, I hear everything," he added as she jerked her head up to look at him, eyes wide and mouth gaping. He shook his head sadly. "That's a dark path to go down, Alex, and most demons won't deal with reviving the dead. If you managed to find one that would, you'd bring Kevin back only to give him the exact pain you're feeling when your time was up. Is that what you want?"

"Kevin could have a future," Alex whispered, biding the tears to stay back. "He has a mother, and friends. He could go to school and be something. I don't have anyone."

"You have a family."

"A family of survivors. They'd move on."

"Oh, Alex, no. No one really moves on from things like that," Chuck shook his head. "You haven't. You won't. I'm sorry about what happened to Kevin, Alex. And I'm sorry for what happened to you."

Alex swallowed, more angry than hurt now. She stood, dropping her book back onto the pile.

"Not sorry enough," she said coldly, lingering for only a moment before leaving the library, angry tears forcing their way to the surface.

Chuck watched her leave sadly, shutting his own book and sitting alone in library.

Sara paced back and forth on the small front porch, wringing her hands a bit nervously, still unused to the healed flesh no longer causing her pain. She ran her fingers through her hair, hoping that she looked okay. Her mother had always compared Sara to her grandmother, so Sara was hoping that was a good thing.

When Sam had asked her to come with him, Crowley had said absolutely not. Sam promised nothing would happen to Sara, but still her father refused. Finally, Sara had insisted on doing it, and after a long argument with her father, she got her way.

She looked at her watch. Lucifer had gone back to heaven to convince the angels to help them. Her father had gone to find his loyal followers. And now Sara was here, standing on the porch of a small shack in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Sam's cue.

She turned quickly when she heard the screen door open, and Sam glanced at her.

"I think I've mostly got her convinced," he told her. "But she could use the extra push."

Sara took a deep breath, nodding. She followed Sam inside.

"This is a terrible idea," complained a strong, accented voice from inside. "Clea, if you want to risk your neck for the Winchesters, go on ahead dear. I've played this game one too many times."

"I thought you might say that," Sam replied, crossing his arms. "So I brought someone along who might be able to convince you." He glanced back at Sara and stepped out of the way. Sara felt oddly nervous as she entered the smaller room.

She immediately saw the resemblance everyone talked about. The same copper-toned locks, the delicate figure, eyes that eerily matched Crowley's and Gavin's as well. However, Rowena was exquisite, like a queen in her extravagant gown and makeup, and Sara suddenly felt quite plain in her jeans and hoodie.

Rowena was in just as much awe as Sara, seeing someone so similar to her.

"Hell's bell's," Rowena breathed.

"Rowena," Sam said, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms smugly. "Meet Sara."

Rowena's eyes widened slightly. "Sara – little Sara? My wee little girl?" She stepped forward quickly, examining her. "You're alive?"

"I have been, this whole time," Sara admitted. "I really had no idea you were even still out there."

"My darling, if I'd known – I thought you died with that woman – I mean, your mother . . ." She smiled brilliantly, brushing her elegant hands against Sara's hair. "How pretty you are. Just like your grandmother."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sara is helping us take down the Darkness," Sam said.

Rowena's face turned from a kind smile to a narrow-eyed look of disbelief as she turned on Sam. "What?"

"I wouldn't call it helping," Sara said quickly, embarrassed. "Making tea and reading books. I don't have a great hold on my powers," she admitted.

"Well, darlin', of course you don't!" Rowena exclaimed, looking surprised. She grabbed Sara's hand. "You're focusing on all that dark, gritty demon power, aren't you?" she wrinkled her nose. "Have you concentrated at all on your natural born craft?"

Sara blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

"You come from one of the strongest magical bloodlines in history. You've got a cocktail of power inside you, and you're only concentrating on half of it." She looked at Sam. "Have you told her nothing?"

"We weren't even supposed to talk about you," Sam shrugged. "Crowley's orders."

"Right. Like you pride yourself on following those." She looked at Clea, who held her hands up in a "none of my damn business" sort of manner. Rowena sighed. "Well, I surely can't let you go again," she smiled, taking Sara's hand and squeezing it. "Of course I'll help." She pursed her lips, glancing at Sam. "I'll have to gather some materials . . ."

Sam nodded. "Meet us at the Bunker."

They went their separate ways, and once Sam and Sara were safely out of earshot and in the Impala, Sam glanced at Sara.

"What's wrong?" she frowned, noticing his nervous demeanor.

Sam sighed and started the car, looking over his shoulder as he backed up. "Here's the thing with Rowena," he began. "I know she comes off really charming and caring, but she doesn't care about anything except for herself. When she says she doesn't want to let you go again, she's not saying that because she cares about you – she cares about power, and you've got a lot of it. I know that seems kinda harsh, but I just want to make sure you know to be wary of her."

"Dad already had this talk with me," Sara admitted. "And I promise I'll be careful. What I don't understand it, how are we going to trap the Darkness in the first place? If we can't kill her, we'll have to capture her, and I'm not sure how we're going to be able to contain her, even with the angels and demons and witches. Are we putting her in a cage, like Lucifer?"

Sam stared out at the road in front of him, expression stony and lips slightly pursed. He was hesitating, and Sara frowned. "Sam?"

"She has to be trapped in the Mark of Cain," Sam finally said.

"The Mark of Cain," Sara frowned. "That's the mark Dean had? The one that turned him into a demon?"

"Yes."

"But who can carry it?" Sara considered, brow furrowing. "They have to be human, don't they? The way Cain was when Lucifer first gave it to him?"

More silence. "I am," Sam said finally.

Sara swallowed. "Isn't this all a bit counter-progressive?" she asked quietly. "You get rid of the Mark but release Amara. Trap Amara and get the Mark back . . ."

"Sara," Sam started.

"And then, what? You just transfer it on and on for the rest of time, making it a burden for others to carry?" she continued. "That doesn't solve anything, not one thing. Even if you don't pass it on, the same thing that happened to Dean will happen to you . . ."

"Sara," Sam tried again.

"I don't want you to take it." Sam glanced away from the road again, realizing Sara's face was contorted with fear and anger. He swallowed and looked back at the road. "I've only just recently collected this little family, you know. It's almost normal. A father, a brother. An acting mother and sisters. And you and Dean and Castiel . . . you've been good friends to me. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt."

"I know that this is tough, being a kid in the middle of all this," Sam started.

"Don't," Sara said lowly. "Don't lecture me, Sam. You're the only person in the world who understands me. The only person who's been through what I'm going through now. Sometimes family is the more important thing. We'll figure out how to save the world later, without risking you or anyone else. So do me a favor and spare me the whole 'it's for the good of the world' speech. It'll only piss me off." She crossed her arms and glared out the window.

She grew even angrier, though, when Sam began to chuckle. She turned her head quickly, glaring at him as his chuckle grew into a laugh, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle them.

"What?" Sara snapped, eyes narrowed.

"N-nothing," he laughed, shaking his head and putting both hands back on the wheel. "It's just . . . they're always comparing you and me, but damn, if you didn't just sound like Dean right then." He continued to laugh, and Sara maintained a frown for a few more moments before breaking into a small grin too.

"You're a bad influence," she chastised him. "Both of you. You've got me talking like a Winchester!"

"Forget talking like one," Sam grinned, shaking his head. "You and Alex and Claire – hell, you all are Winchesters already."

Sara turned her head back towards the window, blushing, and not wanting Sam to see just how much that meant to her.

Don't forget to review!