The new motel room is dead quiet save for the sounds of computer keys clicking and pages turning. Clearly the witch they're looking for already knows where they were staying. She hid the hex bag in the car while it was out front of their room. Not chancing coming across her before they're prepared to, they moved on to a new shitty room on the outskirts of town. They were sure to place a few strategic hex bags of their own around the new place to hide themselves from the witch they're dealing with.

Each hunter is sitting by themselves, reading away and crossing their fingers that they find something helpful. Dean is sitting at the table with a beer to her side and her head resting on her elbow-propped hand while scanning through an old book Sam brought back from the library. Lizzy is lying on her stomach across her mattress with her face glued to her laptop screen and Sam is sitting against the headboard of his own bed, his computer on his outstretched legs as he reads through local reports of anything weird.

"Hey, I might have something here," Sam announces to the room as he sits up a little taller.

"About time," Dean complains as she looks up from her book, blinking away the weariness in her eyes from staring at it for too long. "Try me."

"Looks like last week, when we were first here, some guy called the cops after he woke up with… get this…" Sam turns to look at Lizzy and realizes that she isn't listening. Her ear buds are still in and she's clicking away on her computer. She can't hear them. "Hey!"

No response. Sam then moves his leg off his bed and pushes her laptop shut with his foot to get her attentions.

"What the hell?" she calmly questions while pulling the ear buds out. "You have something?"

"Some guy woke up last week with permanent make up on his face."

"Like clown make up?" Dean asks. "Because if so, you're totally going to be the one to interview him."

"No, ass," Sam returns quickly. "Like, woman's make up. He called the cops to report that someone broke in and messed with him in the middle of the night but there were no signs of break in."

"Ok, that's definitely weird," says Dean as she thinks it over.

"And super similar," Lizzy adds. "You woke up a woman, he woke up looking like one a week before. Sounds fishy enough to be related."

"Definitely," Sam agrees. "The cops have no idea what's going on so they haven't really be able to get anywhere with the case."

"The two of us should go talk to him tomorrow," Lizzy suggests while looking at Sam, getting a nod in return.

"Two? What about me?" Dean asks with worry that she'll be left out.

"You don't have a badge that anyone would buy right now. You're I.D. is for a dude, Hot Shot," Lizzy explains. "Sam and I can pop over tomorrow and talk to the dude. Won't even be gone long."

"Shit," Dean complains. "I'm like the ugly red-headed step child. You're keeping me hidden."

"And safe," Sam points out as he gets up to grab a beer. "Being out and about while running the risk of bumping into the Wicked Witch of the West doesn't seem safe to me."

"Me neither," Lizzy adds, her largest concern through the whole ordeal being Dean's safety.

"Great…" Dean sighs and washes a hand down her face like always, the soft skin under her fingers a new sensation for her. "So what do I do while you're both gone?"

"Research," Sam simply answers, passing Dean a beer that he knows she needs.

"Fucking awesome," she bitches as she moves to open the bottle with the ring on her left hand, remembering that it's no longer there when her bare skin touched the metal cap. "Son of a bitch."

Feeling badly for her husband, Lizzy gets up and walks over to Dean. She steals the bottle and brings the lip of the cap to the edge of the table before slamming her palm down onto it, popping the top off. She hands it back once open.

"Thanks," she says with grumbled gratefulness before pulling down more than half the bottle's worth.

Lizzy plants a kiss on Dean's cheek and heads back to her place, Sam handing her a beer also on her way.

"Well, here's to all of us getting a little drunk after a day like today," Lizzy cheers, getting not a single protest from the other hunters in the room.

"Alright, you're good to go," Lizzy says as she wraps Dean's hand up in fresh gauze. "Looking pretty decent under there so far."

"Thanks," Dean says while getting up and grabbing her bag.

"No more punching sharp shit, huh?" Lizzy scolds. "Stick to things like monsters from now on… or Sam's face."

"Rude," Sam calls her as he shuts down his computer for the night.

"Only a joke, Sam-I-Am," Lizzy grins as she cleans up the medical equipment. "You hear from Rina again?"

"Ah, yeah. I did," Sam lets her know. "She was able to find someone to watch the store for a couple days. She's gonna set her friend up tomorrow morning and then head out. Should be here late tomorrow night."

"Perfect," Lizzy says back, happy to find some possible help for her husband. "It'll be good to see her."

Sam just nods his head and doesn't say anything. Lizzy's looking for a reaction to give away how excited he is to see Rina again but he doesn't want to give it to her. Just like Dean, she pounces on moments like that and pokes fun. He'd rather not deal.

"Well, I'll be happy to see her at least," Lizzy says as she puts away the med supplies and takes out her toothbrush from her bag. "I really hope she has something that'll help." She squeezes some toothpaste onto the brush and starts brushing.

"She will." Sam's sure of it.

"What are you doing?" Lizzy questions with her toothbrush in her mouth as she watches Dean come out of the bathroom in the same huge white t-shirt and oversized boxer briefs she woke up in.

"Proactively being a positive thinker," she explains simply. "If I wake up normal because this is the kinda spell that has an expiration date, then I want to be in my own clothes."

"Huh," Lizzy mulls it over as she heads to the bathroom sink to spit and rinse. "That's smart. I like it."

"Damn straight," Dean returns, sitting down on her usual side of the bed while being overcome by another moment of weirdness when a thought comes to her. She's going to sleep in the same bed as Lizzy, just like always, but it'll be awkward. They don't really fit together like they used to. They have a few go-to positions they sleep in as every couple does over time but fuck if it wasn't going to be strange to try and find those spots of familiarity now.

"Yeah and let's just hope that's exactly what happens," Sam adds in as he gets into his own bed and pulls the covers over himself. "Would save us a lot of time…"

"And worry." Dean sighs. If only that could happen….

"Either way, at least we have a lead of some kind," Lizzy says as she walks back into the room and heads for her bed. "Considering Bobby and Cass both haven't gotten back to us I'm guessing we're pulling ahead of the pack."

"Yeah, with next to nothing. God damn, I'm tired," Dean mentions while rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah, well, waking up early in a panic and being horrified all day doesn't do much for keeping rested," Sam says while lying on his side and pulling the blankets up over his shoulder. "You should be exhausted by now."

"I am." Dean just sits on her side of the bed, feet on the floor and shoulders slumped while facing the motel entrance door. She sighs and the sadness hits again with the overwhelming immensity of the situation. It's then that she feels the bed moving behind her followed by an arm wrapping around her waist.

"Come on, Hot Shot," Lizzy says quietly and kindly, reading Dean's thoughts as she drops her chin on Dean's shoulder. "Let's get some sleep, or at least try to."

"Yeah," she agrees heavily, scooting back and pulling up the covers to crawl in. As if nothing has changed, Lizzy slides right up to her husband's side once both make their way to the middle of the mattress. Lizzy rests her head on Dean's shoulder and drapes an arm around her middle. They usually started every night this way, Dean pulling her woman in with an arm around her shoulders and sighing in relaxed comfort. The comfort never shows up this time though. Just as she'd feared the two don't really fit together the same way as they had before.

"This isn't working," Lizzy says in a light tone while unable to find her perfect spot.

"Not at all," Dean emphatically concurs.

Trying something new, Lizzy takes ahold of Dean's forearm and rolls over on her side facing away. Dean attempts to spoon right up against her but the two big airbags she now has to deal with make it uncomfortable. Her boobs are squished and she feels like she can't get close to Lizzy this way.

"Not gonna happen," Dean complains quickly, knowing she can't stay like this for the night.

Lizzy makes a groan of disappointment, echoed only by Sam's own sound of complaint with their commotion, and turns around again to face Dean. Tangling her own limbs within the others, Lizzy somehow discovers a solid compromise. No breasts being crushed, no size difference getting in the way. They were close like always when they slept which is the only way either of them were ever able to find worthwhile, solid sleep.

"I can make this work," Lizzy whispers with a smile on her lips, their faces just a few inches from each other.

"Me too," Dean breathes out gratefully. She closes her eyes and enjoys that she's still able to be so close to Lizzy, the one thing keeping her from falling off the edge of total fright, depression, and all-consuming anxiety in the moment.

"Goodnight, baby," Lizzy very quietly says before pushing her luck and moving in. She presses her lips meaningfully to Dean's like she always does before falling asleep. Lizzy's been very confused. Dean's discomfort with herself and the idea of being physical completely contradicts how much she enjoyed kissing Lizzy outside that diner, even with an audience. She has no idea how to read Dean right now and thankfully Dean doesn't pull away. She lets Lizzy have this moment of reconnection. Maybe kissing is the line not to be crossed for now.

Home. Yup, that sensation of warmth, safety, and absolute love is still there for Dean within Lizzy's embrace. Life may have turned itself completely upside-down today but not everything was taken away. She still had her wife, her brother, a crappy temporary dwelling over her head and her car parked outside waiting to take away the pain of whatever it is currently killing her. Kissing Lizzy reminds her of all of that and she decides right then and there that fuck it, it could be worse. She could be dead. She could be taken away from the very things that keeps her glued together. That's way scarier still than even what she's going through right now.

As Lizzy's hand comes up to rest gently on the side of Dean's face, she sighs contently. She broke through this new version of Dean's defenses and made her realize that she was never more serious than she had been when she spoke last night. No matter what, she loves Dean with absolutely everything in her, even now, and she wants nothing more than to express that physically as always… awkwardness with the changes and all.

Pulling her closer by simple instinct alone, Dean's arms wrap tighter around Lizzy's frame. Pushing herself a little further, Dean parts her lips more and quickly slides her tongue across Lizzy's. Her wife getting the hint, she proceeds with a lot less caution and dives right in. Her lips and tongue moving as passionately as ever as she tries her best to remind her husband of everything they still have.

Just like always, Dean's hand combs through her hair and rest on the back of her head as Lizzy runs a hand along the hem of Dean's shirt, fingers dipping underneath to touch soft, warm skin.

"Ugh. God damn it," Sam grumbles with anger as he pulls the pillow off from his head after having put it there to block out the rest of the room. "I have ears, you jerks."

Lizzy giggles quietly against Dean's lips before pulling away.

"Sorry Sam-I-Am," she immediately apologizes while settling back into a comfortable spot, this time without lips attached. "Got carried away."

"Yeah… don't," Sam returns quickly, hating that they'd subject him to that at all.

Lizzy laughs a little to herself again before dropping another kiss on Dean's cheek. "Goodnight… for real this time."

"Mm-hm," Dean answers, eyelids already heavily shut and brain slowly turning off. She really is exhausted.

"Goodnight Sam!" Lizzy obnoxiously calls to the other man, Sam grumbling something incoherent in return.

Snuggling into the love of her life, Lizzy drifts off much faster than she would ever have assumed she could in the circumstances.

"Why are you here?"

It's a simple question, he knows it, and he also knows it doesn't have a simple answer. Good thing he doesn't particularly expect to get one anyways.

"Relax, Clarence," the demon's voice mockingly calls over its shoulder as she sits facing away from the angel on a big, green couch in the middle of a pleasant, suburban, moderate sized living room. She knew it was him already, no visual confirmation needed. Angels always smelled so clean, so wholesome, so good it made her want to puke and she could smell him coming from a mile away. "I'm just on vacation."

"In a random suburban home?"

"The owners… let me borrow it." The way she smirks gives it away. The owners did no such thing and Castiel now thinks they aren't alive anymore.

"And this home just happens to be in the same town the Winchesters are in."

"Are they here!?" she feigns shock.

"You know that they are." Castiel takes several steps closer to the side of the couch she's sitting on, looking for a face to evil face conversation. The demon doesn't look up to him when he's easily in view, favoring her newspaper instead. "Why do I feel you are not being forthcoming?" His hand itches, ready to lower his weapon and attack. Castiel always hated flying into a situation with his weapon tucked away. Made him feel weaker, out in the open.

"Wow, pulling out the big words… forthcoming," she smirks over the periodical to look at him for the first time since Castiel appeared in the same room as her. She takes her feet that had been comfortably propped on the coffee table and drops them back to the floor, sitting up. "I'm already impressed with you, Cassie-poo. You don't have to try so hard."

"How did you do it?" Castiel ignores her rudeness and tries to get to the point of his visit. After searching for her all day, sensing an evil presence in the town immediately but not being able to pinpoint her at first, he's tired of the chase. Seeing the symbols written on the walls of the home in blood he understands how she was cloaked from him for so long. She held him off. Now that he's found her he wants answers.

"Do what?" her innocent sounding voice asks with an evil grin.

"You know what."

"Oh, right. You must be talking about Dean… or should I say Deana?" she laughs brightly at the thought as she stands up from the couch. "It's really quite inspired isn't it? The womanizer turned sympathizer in the blink of an eye. I'll bet my weight in virgin blood that he'll never be quite the same sexist he was before."

"Meg…"

"Don't threaten me, Cass," she steps forward into his space, grasping hard onto his blue tie and peering up at him with blackened eyes. She just catches the movement by his arm that's dropped to his side. She sees the sliver glint and knows already what he plans to do. "And don't you dare try to pull that heavenly blade on me."

"Give me a good reason not to then," he asks of her as he grips tightly to his sword.

"Because if you kill me you'll never know how to get your gay hunting lover back to male status." She changes her attitude once she knows he won't hurt her with Dean's wellbeing in the balance and smooths down the long fabric in her hands, turning it around so that it hangs properly from his neck for once. "I know how much you love him and all." She grins wide up at Castiel with evil glee. "I've got you by the balls angel face… or the hunter's balls… or lack thereof, ha! I'm down right hilarious today."

"Then I will just have to force the information from you," Castiel warns, ready to do what he must to get what he needs to help Dean. "You and I both know that what you've done is wrong and against fate completely."

"Screw fate," Meg answers with defiance as she lets go of his tie and walks away, plopping right back down into the couch she just came from. "The story your father set in motion isn't the story my side is willing to stick with."

"But there are no alternate endings to this…" Castiel ensures while walking towards her but she interrupts him.

"Of course there are!" she rebuts instantly. "You think we demons are going to sit by while your version of prophecy plays out your way!? Hell no!"

"It is not our version. It's God's version."

"Well fuck God," Meg blasphemes defiantly. "I'm not following his little bedtime story anymore, none of us are. We like our current man. We like Sam. He may not have stepped up to the plate quite yet but he will. We don't need the rest of what you dicks predict to happen after the big battle royal to happen. Sam has it in him to win."

Castiel sighs. "And you know what has to happen once the Apocalypse is over, whether Lucifer prevails or not… and he won't."

"According to you," Meg says while picking up her newspaper and resting her feet on the coffee table again, acting as coolly as she can. "But I like Sam. He has unlimited potential. He's strong and highly corruptible. We all know the power Lucifer can wield while riding Sam's ass. He can defeat anyone… and he will. He'll be able to take down even Michael."

"Lucifer is not strong enough for all that," Castiel boldly says.

"That's not what he says," Meg sneers happily.

"How would you know that?" Castiel challenges, knowing Lucifer was unreachable by all that exist.

"There are ways to communicate through the cage, Cass," Meg boldly answers while tossing the newspaper she's been reading onto the couch cushion closest to Castiel. On the front page of the German periodical is a headline story about a mysterious massacre at a monastery just a few weeks ago. "Old Yellow Eyes was smart, truly dedicated to the cause. Learned a thing or two from him. I was lucky to be under his tutelage, don't you think?"

"I find this hard to believe," Castiel denies her explanation. "My brother knows the prophecy well. It is written into his brain. He knows exactly how everything is destined to happen."

"And in your prophecy he loses and you winged fucks prevail," Meg smirks. "You really think Lucifer is going to stick to a plan that has him finding defeat at the hands of Michael and then let the kingdom of God take over? The God who banished him for all eternity for loving him too much? Would you go along with a plan like that if you were him?"

Castiel doesn't answer. She makes one hell of a good point.

"Look, I want a showdown as much as any angel does. I really do, and it's going to happen. But from it I want our time to come and if that's going to happen then the second part of the prophecy can't."

"I highly suggest that you let it all play out…"

"Stop," Meg keeps going, stopping Castiel. "I have been patient, we all have. Screw the second generation. This ends with Sam and Dean. This ends without a chance at a chapter two."

The anger Castiel is feeling doesn't subside with her ridiculous plan.

"I say this plan is quite excellent if you think about," she continues on. "Making Dean a woman really gives my side all the power. Michael will have to suck up his pride and ride a chick and at the same time we ensure that Dean and Lizzy will never be able to have a child." She peers out the window with a wide grin. "Brilliant, really."

"You will turn him back," Castiel ensures. He knows he has no recourse here, at least not right now. He needs leverage. He needs something to hold over Meg's head.

"No, but you will accept that I've won here," Meg smiles deviously to Castiel. "I'm sorry, darling. This time I get the trophy."

"We will have to see about that, won't we?" Castiel challenges. "I will find out how you did this and once I do, I suggest you run." He then disappears from the room.