A/N – I'm sorry for the ridiculously slow update. Life happened, rather chaotically and all at once. Also. I completely freaked myself out writing this. Probably listening to the music from those episodes of Doctor Who in the dark while writing probably didn't help. But you get a nice long chapter with the Winchesters, so it's all good. Oh, and I made a few minor edits to previous chapters.

UNIT Maximum Security Containment Facility, Nevada

Date not applicable

The silence. The silence is a physical pain, an absence that gnaws at him without relent.

He moves suddenly, shifting against the restraints until a padded strap is cutting into his neck. The curious double rhythm of his heartbeat reverberates through his skull.

Thud thud thud thud.

Thud thud thud thud.

Sometimes, it almost fills the silence.

Thud thud thud thud.

The cell is impressive. Even he admits it. The walls are metres thick, constructed of layers of dwarf star alloy and gravity-condensed steel. It is a perfect prison. Time, within its walls, is at a standstill. Nothing leaves; nothing enters.

Except... he lifts his head. In his peripheral vision, he can see someone watching him.

"Who are you?" After so long without speaking, his voice is low and harsh. Animalistic.

The being walks slowly across his line of sight. It isn't human. Its scent is overlaid with ozone and frost and blood. When it speaks, its voice echoes in the prisoner's mind for longer than it should.

"I am an angel."

The prisoner – he doesn't use his name any more, not his true name or his taken name – laughs, long and loud and feral. "I don't believe in angels."

"Nevertheless. Here I am."

"Why?"

Its voice is compassionate. "I could help you. I could give you your revenge."

The prisoner tilts his head. There's another meaning behind the words. The angel is cunning – not a liar, he can tell, but a manipulator. "What do you want from me?"

It walks towards him. For a heartbeat, the prisoner sees its wings, outlined against the wall of the cell. Slowly, the angel reaches out, and the prisoner can sense its consciousness reaching out too, a cold ancient vastness, utterly different to any mind he has ever encountered.

The angel's fingers brush his forehead and then, quite suddenly, he sees.

It comes in a series of juddering snapshots. Images of humans tearing each other apart. War, vicious and close and bloody. Survivors starving and hunted. The world burning.

And the prisoner smiles. "I know you," he whispers, voice full of animal glee. "I know your name."

The angel smiles. A benevolent smile, as of a parent to a child. Or perhaps that of a predator to its prey.

"What do you want me to do?"

Lucifer shows him, and he smiles.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

May 2009

It's a couple of days since the Devil got out of the box and the world ended. Since Sam ended the world. Dean can't help but think of it like that. He trusted a demon. A goddamn demon, Sammy,over your own brother. And now Bobby's in a wheelchair and oh yeah, it's the freakin' Apocalypse.

And it's Sam's fault.

Dean's fault, too. If he'd been stronger. If he hadn't given in to Alistair in Hell. If Dad hadn't sold his soul for him. If Azazel hadn't killed his Mom, all those years ago.

If he'd taken better care of Sammy.

Looking back, he can see his whole life has been leading up to that moment in the church when the first drop of Lilith's blood hit the cold stone floor. Every action, however small, bringing them a step closer to Lucifer. From the moment Mary died, this is where he's been headed. And now they're going to have to fight, and Dean is afraid. More afraid than he's ever been in his life. Because how can he fight destiny?

Well, he's going to try. He's going to kill the Devil and save the world, because that's who he is. He looks sidelong at Sam, seeing the guilt sloping his shoulders and turning his eyes to the ground. He made a promise to protect his brother, once. And maybe he's done a piss-poor job of it so far, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop.

For Sammy, he'll kill the Devil. Or maybe die trying.

"You two just gonna sit there gawkin'?" Bobby's voice is gruff and irritated. He's turned away from them, glaring resolutely out of the window. Being in hospital doesn't agree with hunters.

"Sorry Bobby." Sam is quick to apologise. Dean can tell he's trying to apologise for everything. For Ruby and Lucifer and the end of the world. "It's just... what are we supposed to do now?"

"Nothin'," Bobby snaps. "There's nothin' we can do, ok?"

"So, what, we're just supposed to sit here and wait for the end?" Dean stands quickly. "Just let those sons of bitches rip the world apart?" It's wrong to see Bobby like this, ready to give up before it's even begun, and all it does is make Dean angry. And more determined.

"Well, do you have any better ideas, boy?"

"Yeah, actually. How 'bout we don't let them control us?"

"You mean – fight?" Sam lifts his head and just for a moment a spark of hope show in his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean fight." Dean feels like he should say something more, but he's never been much good at motivational speeches.

Sam shrugs. "Well, this is our mess. I guess we should clean it up."

"'Mess' is an understatement," Bobby grumbles in an undertone.

Dean glances at him. "You in or not?"

We can't do it without you, Bobby," Sam puts in.

"Yeah, of course I'm in, y'idjits," he mutters. "Just, it's hard to have much faith in anythin' after an angel's put you in a wheelchair."

Sam looks relieved. "We understand."

There's a pause. Dean fills it. "So where do we start?" He starts to feel something under his ribs, that heady mix of excitement and anticipation and fear that he feels at the start of a hunt.

"Omens? Demonic omens, stuff from the Book of Revelation, I guess," suggests Sam. "We can have other hunters looking out for anything..."

"Apocalyptic." Dean says it at the same moment Sam does.

"Yeah." Sam's voice is resigned, but determined too.

Bobby looks up. "And when you actually find Lucifer? What're you goin' to do, stick a knife in him?"

"Well... what kills angels?" Sam doesn't look quite as hopeful as he did a moment ago.

"The Colt?" Dean shrugs.

"Okay. We should track down the Colt." Sam nods. "Which... is probably easier said than done."

"But it's a chance," says Dean. And if he starts to think that maybe this isn't so hopeless, well, who can blame him?

In another part of the hospital, Sheriff Jody Mills is getting annoyed. "Two of your patients have disappeared in the last twelve hours and you don't think there's anything odd about that?"

The receptionist - a fair-haired, dark-suited man with an English accent – makes a placatory gesture. "People check themselves out all the time. It's nothing to worry about. Now," he grins (and Jody doesn't like the the way he's looking at her, almost feral), "Why don't you go and find a crime to investigate?"

Jody leans over the counter. "I already have. So don't get smart with me."

The receptionist looks affronted. "I intended nothing of the sort, I assure you." There's a mocking tone in his voice that Jody does her best to ignore.

"Good. Now show me the files of those two patients."

He adopts a mock-apologetic expression. "I can't leave here, I'm afraid. But..." He draws out the word, making a ridiculous face around it. "You could look yourself. The files are kept down in the basement."

Jody grits her teeth and forces herself to stay calm. "All right. Where do I have to go?"

He rattles off a list of directions, and Jody leaves with some relief. She doesn't see him take something bronze out of his jacket, and she doesn't hear the high buzzing. Doesn't see the red glow. Even if she had, it wouldn't have meant anything to her.

Down in a clunky, ageing elevator, and the basement is startlingly cold, a stark, unsettling contrast to the warmth and light of the hospital. Her breath comes in plumes of white. Rows of filing cabinets stretch away into dusty, cobweb-filled shadows. Jody feels the wall beside the door. Light switch, excellent. She flicks it and rows of strip lights stutter into life.

Now... Jess McLeod was the first, in hospital with a broken leg and in no state to be going anywhere, according to her doctor, whom Jody had the foresight to interview earlier. She walks along the nearest row. Faded labels display the letter for each cabinet. J, K, L... M. There. The metal is dented and rusty, and it takes a few solid tugs to open the drawer.

Which turns out to be empty. Jody frowns and tries the next drawer down. Also empty, except for a dead bee.

"Great," she mutters. "Screwed over by the creepy receptionist." She turns and heads back towards the stairs. She is going to have words with that guy (and there was something in his voice, something sly, twisting things to make her believe them, and now she realises that hospital records are computerised, of course they are).

Somewhere behind her, there's a sharp clatter. She blinks.

"Hello? Someone there?"

No reply. But she hears a dry scrape and there's definitely someone back there. Hairs rise on the back of her neck. (And what if it's a trap, what if he sent her down here-) Her deepest instincts are telling her to leave, get the hell out of here-

She pads forward and peers round the end of the row.

"Ok," she says slowly to herself. "Because that's not creepy."

It's a statue. Standing as if it's always been there. A stone angel, one arm across its face. The other is extended. Pointing somewhere past Jody.

(Who would put an angel statue in a hospital basement? Looks like it should be in a graveyard-)

The lights flicker, plunging her into darkness for a moment.

And the statue has moved. She's certain. It's turned a little, arm slightly away from its face. And suddenly, Jody really doesn't want to see what its face looks like. She turns and hurries back toward the elevator, and the bright sensible normal world of the hospital above. (And she really wishes she hadn't thought anything about graveyards-)

She glances back, just to check-

And screams. Because it did move, however impossible, and now it's right behind her. Face carved into a ferocious, hungry snarl, mouth far too wide open, all wrinkles and shark-like teeth, blank sightless eyes fixed on her-

(Please. Please. Please don't let it get me.)

She hasn't believed in God since she was a little girl. But now she finds herself praying out of sheer terror, something from the past rising to the surface of her mind, as her hand creeps along the wall beside her, searching for the button to call the elevator.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle," she whispers, a sob in her voice. There's a movement in the corner of her eye – there's another one, another angel – she's going to die, she's going to die here. "Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil."

Her fingers brush something cold and smooth. She stabs at the button gratefully, not daring to tear her gaze from the angels (and how ironic that she's praying to an archangel).

"May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host-" and the second one has moved, it's pointing at the ceiling- "by the Divine Power of God-" and the lights are going out, it's turning out the lights- "cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits that roam the world seeking the ruin of souls."

The lights are flickering and dying and every time they come back up the creatures are closer-

A single tear slides down her cheek as she says the last word of the prayer-

"Amen."

And the elevator door slides open.

Jody stumbles in gratefully, and as the door closes again she hears a sound that will haunt her nightmares. It's a high screeching, like claws on glass, (stone claws, snatching at the back of her coat) and it's terrifying. But she's safe, she's away, and now the only thought in her head is to find Bobby Singer. He'll know what to do. He fights monsters for a living. He'll know what to do. Surely.

Sam has gone down to the lobby to grab some snacks for the impromptu council of war in Bobby's room. Planning a campaign against all the forces of Hell is thirsty work, he observes wryly. Especially when you've got three people who even know there's a war on.

"Sam!"

He glances up, startled. He's even more startled when he recognises Jody Mills, Sheriff of Sioux Falls.

"Sheriff Mills, right?" She looks a mess, dusty and trembling.

"Sam," she says, and he can hear the leaden terror in her voice. "There are monsters in the basement."

"What? What do they look like?"

She closes her eyes and doesn't reply.

"Jody." Sam ducks a little to her eye level. "You have to stay calm. Tell me what they looked like."

'It's... sorry," she mutters. "It wasn't fun."

"It's ok. I understand. But you have to tell me what you saw. It's really important."

"They were..." she hesitates. "They were angels."

Sam blinks. "Angels." But angels just look like normal people, don't they? So what-?

"Not like angels. They were statues. And they moved. Whenever I looked away." Her voice is starting to shake again. "Sam, I swear-"

"It's all right. I believe you."

"Well, good," she says. "Glad I didn't go through all that for nothing." She sounds a little more composed now, but it's not lost on Sam that she's still terrified. He's comforted enough victims. Hell, been one himself more often than he'd like.

"So... these angel statues... attacked you?"

"Yeah. All teeth and claws and screechy noises."

Something occurs to Sam. "Hey, how come you were down in the basement, anyways?"

"Couple of patients have gone missing since Friday. I was looking for their records."

Well, that makes even less sense. And Friday? Lucifer popped his box at midnight on Thursday. Overall, not looking promising. At all.

"Patient records are stored on computers."

She hesitates. "Yeah, I know. It was the receptionist. He..." She rolls her eyes at herself. "He sent me down there. His voice... it made me want to believe him. It was like..." She stops, eyes widening slightly. "Like he was hypnotic."

So, not good then. Wait, though- "He?"

"Yeah." Jody shrugs slightly. "Well?"

Sam points wordlessly. A female nurse is on the reception.

"Crap," says Jody.

"Yeah," says Sam grimly. "I think someone wanted you to go down there. You said you were investigating some missing patients?"

"Crap," she breathes. "He seemed pretty eager to get rid of me. Made up some bull about checking themselves out."

"Ok. What did he look like?"

"Normal, I guess? He was kind of... unshaven." There's a blurred spot in her memory. "Sticky-up hair. He was wearing a suit, I think... it's hard to remember..."

Sam remembers something. Hadn't Cas mentioned Lucifer going after his vessel? Oh, crap. If Lucifer's here, with some new monster, then they're in such deep trouble that they might never see the sun again. Literally.

Jody goes still, looking somewhere over Sam's shoulder. He looks round, following her line of sight and- oh, crap. Unmistakably, that's an angel statue tucked discreetly into a corner. It's hands are pressed against its face, but an eye is peeping out above its fingers and it's watching them. Definitely.

"We've got to get Bobby," Sam says, quiet and urgent. "There might be more. You should go."

"Hell no," she says determinedly. "You're not the only one who cares about him. And I owe those creepy bastards."

Somewhat reluctantly, Sam nods.

"Sam's takin' his sweet time," says Bobby. Dean doesn't say anything, expressionless. He does not like hospitals. Too many people who can't fight back. Like an all-you-can-eat monster buffet, guaranteed no hunters. Oh, and did he mention it's the goddamn Apocalypse?

Somewhere close, there's a scream. Dean is on his feet in an instant and heading for the door, before he stops and looks back at Bobby.

"You coming, Ironsides?"

Bobby rolls his eyes. "What d'you think, Einstein?"

"Sorry. Just asking." He grins and with that he's gone.

Dean straight away relaxes into the familiar rhythm of the hunt, pounding feet and heart, senses hyper-alert. The scream comes again, a couple of doors down, and-

He's abruptly jerked back, something's caught onto his jacket, and he goes to wriggle out of it-

Cold stone fingers close around Dean's throat.

A/N - I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But I can never resist a good cliffhanger. ^^ Reviews still love?