I had gone through a lot of information in my time with Crowley. I finally opened the file on Ketch, and… and I actually was sick then. Detailed accounts of everything he'd done, including every innocent person he'd murdered.

I reached the Drive File, too. It was a copy of everything T.J. had tried to leave me, including the flash drive itself. I didn't want to look at what the Men of Letters had to say about T.J., the real T.J., and what he'd tried to do. I wanted to read it for myself.

There were a lot of letters, which surprised me. I never took him for the sentimental letters type of guy. He told me the necromancer was real, they'd put him on that assignment to try and train Greg to be a warlock. Since T.J. had had such success with working with me, they figured he would be the best person to get to create a new me.

Greg ended up dying. T.J. wished he hadn't, but the whole idea of creating a new version of me that could replace me and work for the Men of Letters unquestionably was stupid to him, so he wasn't too surprised to see it fail.

He talked about the first mission we'd gone on together, how he'd been so terrified. He wasn't a Hunter. That was a cover story. He hadn't ever done field work before, not until then. He'd been truly terrified to see all of that.

Thank you for not abandoning me. Thank you for not refusing to work with me after I showed myself to be a completely incompetent Hunter.

It hurt, reading everything. It hurt to read the detailed accounts from people that I'd trusted, people that I thought I could believe in, betraying me every step of the way. Reading the beginning of it, from T.J.'s perspective…

He hated me.

When he first started, he hated me, and hated everything I was. His family… Well, I guess there was a reason he never really talked about them. They were killed by witches. He… He wanted me dead. There were a lot of times that he wanted to kill me, while we were working together. A lot of times he requested to be allowed to stick a bullet between my eyes.

Ketch had actually congratulated him for this, told him that his spirit was admirable. "It's amazing, getting to work with someone who understands it. He understands how difficult it is to worth with someone…" In the recording, he pretended to puke for a moment. "So vile. So impure and cruel and something that needs to be wiped off the face of the earth. He understands the sacrifices that need to be made in the name of the greater good, in the name of the Code." He smiled at that. "With Ketch's guidance, I know I can make it through this assignment till the end." Another smile, looking straight in to the camera. "And when it ends, I know I'll be able to pull the trigger with pride, just like my parents would've wanted me to."

His recordings and notes started changing after that assignment together. "She's just… She's open. She doesn't care. I don't know if she suspects or not, but… She doesn't seem to mind. I think she's just…" He looked conflicted as he spoke. "I think she's lonely. I think she's been alone for a long time, and had to give up a lot more than we originally thought. I think…" He didn't look at the camera. He just thought for a moment. "I think she's more useful than just a means to an end." He finally said, sounding as diplomatic as possible. "I think that there are more options with this witch than we realize."

From there, his true thoughts and feelings were in the drive files. Most of the recordings he sent the Men of Letters from there on were very informative, but not emotional. He kept those on the drive.

"I can't believe it." He muttered, shaking his head. "I just… I can't. All my life, with the Men of Letters, I was brought to believe that these creatures, these things. I was brought to believe that all they did was kill, all they could accomplish was killing and death and hatred. But this one… This witch…" He pursed his lips, looking right at the camera. "Kylie. She has a name, and it's Kylie. It's about bloody time I started calling her that. Her name is Kylie and she… She's not bad. She's not evil. I've never once seen her use her powers to kill. She just… She doesn't seem to want to. She held me up against a wall, she defended us, but other than that… I don't know." He rested his head in his hands. "I don't know anymore. And it bothers me like all hell. Is this… Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? Is this who I'm supposed to be now? I have so many questions about what I've been told versus what I've actually seen. I… I watched her, in the park today. I watched her take time to craft a toy for her… Her hellhound. I watched Kylie take the time and care to create something for her dog. It was astounding." His hands came up in an exasperated way, but his eyes showed amazement. "She took time, she thought out what she was doing, and as she did she talked with me and afterwards handed me this," he held his hands out for a size reference. "This log, that was huge. But she made it throwable for me, made me able to see Karma, and she… She made me her friend. She made me a part of her life and her family, in her own way. I don't know if she had anybody else, but… But she wanted me to be someone, to her. She wanted me there. She's consistently wanted me there."

"Kylie," one of the other recordings on the drive, not long before… Before he was gone. "I'm sorry. I want to start out with that. I'm so, so sorry. I hope you understand that. I hope you know that I didn't… I didn't know. I didn't know things would happen this way. I didn't know…" He shook his head. "No. No that's a lie and you deserve the truth. I knew. I knew what their endgame was the whole time, Kylie, and for that I know I cannot be forgiven. All I can do is apologize. I know that can't even come to close enough in terms of earning your forgiveness, but at this point it's all I can do.

What I didn't know was what would happen in between. I didn't know I would see you as my closest friend, and I want you to know that I do. You're the greatest and most honest friend I've ever had. You've shown me… So much. In the months I've known you I've learned more than I ever did in my years under the Men of Letters. You taught me how to think for myself. You taught me how to question what I know, how to stop following so blindly and make my own choices in what I believe. So… So I believe in you." He looked firm in his admission. "I believe in a world of balance, the same world you believed in. Not one that's supposed to be perfect and pure, but one that works. One that has a yin and a yang." It was odd, hearing words so similar to Crowley's come from a recording of my best friend. "A light and a darkness. A human and a… and another human." He finally stated. "Just one with extra perks."

I teared up a bit at that, and had to take time before I moved on to other things. He was right, his actions could be so easily considered unforgiveable, but at the same time… He changed. He chose to change, and chose to at the very least try to protect me.

In the end, he tried to change. In the end, he stopped wanting me dead. He saw me as a friend.

And for that, I could forgive him. For that, I could look upon the memories I had of my best friend, and still smile.

But finally, it came time for me to look at the demon files; to look at Crowley's file.

When I read through them all, I just… I was done crying. I was done feeling anything but anger. No. This absolutely couldn't true. Nothing that I was reading could be true.

I did my best to reign in my emotions, remembering what I'd promised. I would give Crowley the benefit of the doubt. I would talk with him. I would ask him my questions, and do my best to trust him.

I walked to my door, taking a few calm breaths. "Crowley," I practiced, holding up the files for emphasis. "I want to ask you why I just read that you have agreements in place with Hess, and why they seem to think that you have Lucifer not locked up in a cage, but in your own private room." I nodded, calming my voice down a little more. "Crowley," I muttered again. "I just finished these files, and I definitely have questions from them that concern me." I nodded again. That sounded a lot better. "Crowley," I opened the door, and there was Crowley in the doorway. "Oh, good. I have some questions for you." I stopped though, when I actually looked at him. He was… pained. Stiff. And there was this spell…

"Crowley's busy helping me right now." A voice behind him said. I froze, every single atom of my being terrified to the core. "We just came to get you so we could all talk about this together."

"Run." He fought to get the word out, reaching forwards jerkily to grab my arm. He stepped aside, pulling me out the door, and behind him I saw my worst nightmare. The body may be different, but the voice, and the power emanating from it…

It was Lucifer.

"No." I shook my head, my voice betraying me easily. This wasn't happening. Not this. Not after everything else.

No.

Not this.

"Oh yeah, baby." Lucifer confirmed, motioning to his body. "You haven't seen this vessel before. What do you think? It's the original, but personally… I like it better than your boyfriend's old sack."

"Fuck off." I spat, quite literally, with a sad but still effective glob of spit landing about a foot away from him. "What do you want?"

"I want to teach you guys a few lessons." He replied. "In front of everybody. I want them to know who's really in charge." I looked over at Crowley, terrified.

"I'm sorry." He croaked out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucifer wave a hand in front of his face. In turn, Crowley's other hand came up to slap me.

"I've got complete control over him." Lucifer replied. I focused on the spell I could feel. It was… It was intensive. It was insane. It was molecular. Who in the hell had been able to do this, and HOW?

This wasn't something I could break or change. The spell was wearing away as time went on, and fast.

But not fast enough. For now, I couldn't do anything. If I used any sort of magic on Lucifer, there was a good chance it would rebound on to Crowley.

I was completely screwed.

I walked with them to Crowley's throne room, dropping the files I had as we went. No use in keeping things I didn't need anymore. I had all the answers in front of me.

When we got to Crowley's throne room, the first thing Lucifer did was have Crowley throw me across the space. I did my best to land on my feet, skidding a few feet before I stopped. I pushed my arms out automatically, pressing the demons nearest to me away. Crowley, in turn, found himself kicked in to the room forcibly by Lucifer.

"Gather round, everyone!" Lucifer crowed. "You're going to see what true power is like around here!" I hurried to Crowley's side, helping pick him up off the floor.

"Run." He repeated.

"There's nowhere I can go that I won't be found." I reminded him.

"Go now." He repeated, pressing a coin in to my hand. I felt the spell on it. It would take me out of here, I just had to activate it. I could name a city, or a person, and I'd be out of here.

"Quit your babbling, you two." I turned back to look at Lucifer, and watched as he flicked his wrist to the side. I felt myself flung backwards, where I'd originally been. I crossed my arms in front of me, rolling when I hit to try and alleviate the damage. I rolled in to the wall, hitting my head hard, but I was pretty fine otherwise. Nothing broken yet.

Yet was the key word, when it came to Lucifer.

"Dad, it feels good to stretch my muscles again!" He cheered, rolling his arms back lazily. I got up slowly, glaring over at Lucifer. He rolled his eyes at me. "Oh lie back, watch the show!" He encouraged, motioning a hand to me. I fell back to the floor, my arms and legs buckling without my volition.

"I hate you." I hissed, looking over at Lucifer. "I hope the Winchesters kill you slowly."

"Aw, you're stealing my plans!" He pouted, looking over at me. "I'd call you a little shit, but I think your hair is already doing that for me." I grunted, still working to get up as Lucifer turned his attention to Crowley again. "But you know, I think that this is much better therapy than any conversation I ever had with Dad!" He laughed, and as Crowley got up as well he smiled widely. "Eight ball, corner pocket!" He crowed. Crowley went flying in to a column, hitting harder than I had over here.

"Stop!" I shouted, acting on instinct. I cast a hand out at Lucifer, flames flying from my fingertips. Lucifer just stood in them, laughing.

"Oh, I could do this all day with you two!" He cheered, looking back and forth at the two of us. "And I think I will continue this session later with you, Kylie. But since I'm King, et cetera, et cetera," he looked between the two of us again before lifting one hand up. Crowley rose with the hand, levitating above the ground and looking as though he was choking. "I'll wrap it up."

"Run!" Crowley forced the word out again, much louder this time. I watched as he was lowered to the ground, Lucifer's hand still outstretched slightly. He flicked his wrist, an angel blade falling neatly in to his own hands. He pointed it at Crowley, and I watched in horror as he walked towards the blade. "RUN!"

"Rowena." I whispered, tightening my hand around the coin.

"NO!" Lucifer screeched, casting a hand out at me. He was too late, thankfully. The spell kicked in, and before he could get a hold on me I was gone.

I re-appeared on the floor of a very nice, very lavish… was this a mansion? I took a second to look around, trying to figure out where I was. It definitely looked like a mansion, or at the very least what I imagined a mansion to look like from the inside.

Nice digs. Go Rowena.

"EXCUSE ME!" A man shouted. I took a moment to look behind me, seeing the staircase behind me. The higher I looked up, the easier it was to see a gentleman I didn't quite know at the top of the stairs. "WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"Hi." I started, pursing my lips. I took a second to look down at myself. Still looking… well… homeless as shit; and standing in a mansion. "Umm… Sorry to drop in, your… Um… your door was unlocked?" I tried. He didn't seem to be buying it. I stood up fully, letting out a little sigh. "Thought I saw my cat run in here?" I tried. Still no good response. "Yeah, you're not buying this, are you?"

"I'm going to call the police!" He shouted. "And I swear," I shook my head at this point, kind of done hearing him speak.

"Yeah, no." I decided. "Too busy." I waved a hand at him, looking around the place. In an instant, he was frozen where he stood, still looking at me angrily and… Pointing? Really? He was doing the angry rich-guy-pointy thing?

I swear, just a little bit more money and you start doing an entitled, rude point.

"ROWENA!" I shouted, deciding to say screw it. I wandered up the stairs and past the guy, still shouting for her. "ROWENA! YOU HAVE A VISITOR!" Still no answer. I stood in the middle of a long hallway on the second floor, seeing the amount of rooms there were. I took a deep breath, annoyed as hell. "ROWENA IT'S ME, DAMMIT! IT'S KYLIE. COME OUT OR I'M…" I looked around. "I'M TORCHING THE PLACE!" I decided. It was a nice place. It had to be important to her. She liked physical things.

She walked out from a room a few minutes later, hands raised. "Alright, alright. No need to get snippy." She chided, glaring at me. After a second though, she looked me up and down. "What happened to you?"

"Bad shit." I said, letting out a deep breath. "A lot of bad shit." Rowena took a few more moments to inspect me before letting out a sigh of her own. "Fine." She said. "Come downstairs to the parlor. I'll make you some tea and you can tell me what's going on." I nodded, following her down the stairs quietly. I took a seat in a chair she pointed out to me, and waited quietly for her to come back in with cups of tea. She wasn't trying to scour my mind this time, like she usually did. This time, though, she didn't. She didn't make a single attempt.

She sat down across from me, handing me a glass. I took it quietly, watching her. She was… She was acting normal. She wasn't doing anything that… that we could do.

"You're not using magic." I commented. She shrugged.

"I do for little things, like keeping the house neat and the flowers in bloom." She answered, smiling a little. "Keeping Charles' laundry the way he likes it. But for the most part," she shook her head. "No. That life is behind me now. I can retire to wealth and simplicity and never have to worry about any of that ever again." She raised an eyebrow at me, sipping her tea. "But with you here, I have a feeling that you will try to change that."

"Lucifer is back." I started, and she stopped sipping immediately. She closed her eyes, turning to look away from me.

"Say that again, dearie." She muttered, her voice calm, yet firm. I looked at her incredulously, unable to believe her reaction.

"Didn't you hear me?" I asked.

"I heard you." She stated. "However, I refuse to believe that I heard you correctly, because if I did then you said the bloody Devil is back and walking." She looked at me this time, waiting to hear me change what I said. When I didn't, she set down her cup. "He's back." She said, her voice much quieter.

"Yeah." I nodded. "He is."

"How?"

"I…" I could tell her. I could tell her that Crowley had changed her spell, tell her that her son had done this; I could tell her the truth.

Or I could lie, and say I didn't know. I could lie and say that it didn't matter, could decide to not tell her about how it had happened, I could just tell her nothing. I could be completely quiet about it, and let bygones be bygones, just this once.

"I don't know." I finally said. She didn't look like she believed me, but she let me go on anyways. "But he's back. I was hiding in Hell with Crowley," this time, she interrupted me.

"Why were you hiding in Hell?" She asked. I rested my head in my hands.

"That's the other problem, the reason I look like," I motioned to myself. "This."

And so I told her everything, from the beginning. I told her about the Men of Letters and their plan, told her about what led me to hide in Hell… The only thing I left out was what her son had done.

He was probably dead, now. He deserved a little dignity.

Once I was done, she didn't say anything. Not at first. She just sipped her tea quietly, letting it all soak in. When she finally spoke, she was blunt. "It sounds like you're as good as dead, sweetie." She commented. I didn't know what else to do, so I just nodded. She took another sip of her tea, watching me. "So what're you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a fighter, Kylie." She stated. "A scrapper. You don't give up. You didn't when your ideas of the world were changed with the introduction of the Supernatural. You didn't when I, admittedly, tried to kill you with Castiel. You didn't when Lucifer tried to kill you the first time, and Amara was looming over all of us. You didn't afterwards, when you were seeking purpose and understanding in your new identity." She took another sip before setting her cup down. "There are more than likely other instances I don't know about, but a pattern is a pattern. You fight to hold on, fight to live, fight to fight and to survive." She leaned forwards slightly, leaning her forearms lightly on the table. "So what are you going to do about all of this?"

"I don't think there's anything I can do." I admitted. "I think… I think both instances are like… like a sickness; a cancer. They spread and spread without you seeing it there, and how bad it is, until it's just… It's too late. The only way to catch it early is if it makes mistakes, or you're lucky, and…" I shook my head. "I think it's just too late Rowena. I think the world is either going to end, or the Men of Letters are about to be running it. Either way, I'm finished. You're finished." I cocked my head to the side, confused suddenly. "Why aren't you worried?"

"Because I think you're being irrational." She replied. "I think that you became scared and hurt and betrayed very, very quickly, so you automatically reverted back to what you were used to doing your whole life – running and hiding and fighting and not asking for a lot of help, but wishing it was there anyways. You're a fighter, Kylie, but you're also a runner, and you fight to run as far and fast as you can." She sounded almost as though she… she understood the feelings she was describing.

"Getting away from people trying to kill me isn't irrational."

"No, but you're not just trying to get away. You want to stay hidden." I didn't respond that time. I didn't know exactly what to say. Granted, hiding was easier. It was what I'd done for a large part of my life. "You know what I think you should do?" She asked.

"What?"

"I think you should stop hiding." She said. "You did, for a little bit when working with the Men of Letters. But you still hid behind them, behind their rules and their missions and their definition of right and wrong. You chose to follow, in your own way, and that was easier." She pursed her lips a little. "Hiding in masses, and following them, is always easier. You feel safer in it, safer when you have another telling you it will be alright and that they will protect you. But that isn't always what a person needs. They need to lead, too. You need to lead, in this case lead yourself." I took a moment to listen to what she was saying, doing my best to understand it.

In all honesty, she had a point. For a vast majority of my life since the night it all began, all I'd done was hide. I hid from demons, I hid from Crowley, I hid from angels, I hid from Hunting, I hid from Lucifer, I hid from the Winchesters, I hid from Amara, I hid from Castiel, I hid from the Men of Letters, I hid from… From…

From everyone and everything.

All my life, all I did was run and hide.

Like I was doing right now.

I nodded, understanding her fully. "Good. Now, you have two options. You may remain here, if you wish, and remain hidden with me until Lucifer comes to kill the both of us." We both knew he was coming, one way or another. We were powerful. We could slam him back in. We weren't people he would want left alive. "Or, you can go and you can do what you also always do, which is fight. Except this time, the fight won't just be to hang on for life, or to prove something to a world that has tried numerous times to beat you in to submission. This time, you will be fighting for yourself; for your freedom, your hope, your safety. Not the world's, not anybody else's. If you chose to fight, it needs to be for you." She reached across the table to touch me for the first time since I'd been here, and grasp my hand. "This cannot be for anybody else but yourself. Do you understand that?" I nodded, and she withdrew. "Good. So what do you want to do?"

I took a deep breath, making my choice. "I want to fight." I said, letting the air out. "And I want to win." She smiled, nodding at me.

"Then that's what you'll do." She agreed. I smiled back. It felt good, to make this choice. It felt good to put my own life back in my own hands. I was going to take control, and one way or another, I wasn't going to let anyone take that away from me. I wasn't going to hand it over anymore, either. I was just…

I was done hiding.

"Come on, let's get you better dressed." She decided, standing up and motioning for me to do the same. This time I was confused again, uncertain of what clothing had to do with me fighting. "What, you think you're going off to battle looking like that?"

"Why does it matter what I look like?" I asked. "There's a very likely scenario where I end up dead."

"Yes, well, better to leave a pretty corpse than an ugly one. I hate to perpetuate the warty witch stereotype." She took a glance at my hair again, grimacing. "And sweetheart…" she looked like the words she was about to say were sour in her mouth. "It looks like you colored your hair with the excrement of a cow."

My face flattened out at that remark, the insult clearly showing on my face. "I was in a rush." I muttered.

"Yes, and while you were with my son you couldn't have one or two of his droogs help fix your hair?" She asked. I didn't bother responding, just got up and followed her. "Trust me, dearie. This will help. And if you're that certain you'll soon be dead, then why not take one day to bring back who you want to be?"

She walked out of the room, not even turning back to see if I was following. After a few seconds, I decided to go with her. "What about you?" I asked, rushing after her. "What about your safety? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do exactly what I have left to do." She replied, walking to where Charles still remained frozen on the stairs. She reached in to his inner jacket pocket to withdraw his wallet, taking a look at what was inside before nodding. She reached in to the second pocket, pulling out a pair of keys.

"Which is?"

"I'm going to stand my ground where I am." She decided, tossing me the car keys. I acted on instinct, raising a hand to stop them in mid-air before bringing them directly to my palm. "And accept the fate that comes to me."

"That's not at all what you usually do." I pointed out as she came down the stairs with me. "You do the same thing I do. You run. You get away. You escape."

"You're right." She commented, walking with me out the front door. She pointed a car out to me, a 1969 silver Dodge Charger. I whistled, taking a good, long look at the car. This was something that Art would've absolutely fawned over. "This isn't what I do." She nudged for me to unlock the car, and I did, uncertain of what else to do about it.

"Then why do it?" I tossed the keys back to her, not feeling as though I should be driving this car at all. She caught them with ease, walking past me to hop in the driver's side and take a seat. She smiled a little bit, giving it a few revs.

"Charles has a love for fast cars." She stated instead, offering me a small smile. I sat down in the passenger seat, taking a look at all of it.

"Why are you stalling?" I asked. She started driving, giving it a little more speed than what was probably necessary as she did. "Rowena, why aren't you running too? Or even fighting?"

"Do you know how old I am?" She asked. "It's a rude question to ask a woman in general, I know, but did Fergus…" She stopped on his name, and I saw something change in her eyes for just a second. "Did my son tell you?"

"No." I shook my head. "He didn't."

"I'm over four thousand years old." She stated. "I have been alive for the century to turn over again, and again, and again, and do you know what I have learned from all of that?"

"What?"

"I've learned that I loathe this existence." She kept her eyes on the road, driving as quickly as she could. "I have watched everybody I could have cared about die, and learned that caring was pointless in an existence as long as mine has been. I have learned that the only reason I have stayed alive this long was because I clung to living and power and existence like a soaking rat clings to fabric. I have learned…" She sighed. "I have learned that I am tired, Kylie. I am tired of this existence, and tired of being alive this long. My time is coming to an end, I've seen it." She took a second to glance over at me. "A long time ago, I tinkered with the power to see the future, to see my own. And in it, I saw what would bring my death." She laughed a little, a laugh that had no meaning. "I saw my death three thousand years ago, or more specifically the singular choice that would lead to the beginning of my downfall. Do you know what I saw in that vision, Kylie?"

"No."

"I saw you." She stated. "Looking just as you are now, standing in that hallway and looking around for me. I did not recognize you when I first met you, because thousands of years had gone by since I saw it and you looked different, when we first met. More hopeful. More youthful. You continued to look different. But now…" She raised an eyebrow. "Now you look hardened. You look stronger than I've ever seen you. You wanted to run, but we both knew you wouldn't, not really. You look pained, older, but… But you look like a fine young woman." She let out a small breath with the admittance. "One that will be able to do what I never did."

"What do you mean?"

"You can be good." She said. "You can do good."

"Haven't you done good?" I pointed out. "Like… Helping cage Lucifer? Taking the Mark off of Dean? Trying to take down Amara? Don't those count as good?"

"I think we both know that those were to preserve myself versus those around me." She replied, glancing over at me. She drove fast, and in no time we were at a… A salon? Yeah, a fairly nice hair salon.

She took me inside, not saying a word. Everyone in the building glared at me, not liking how I looked, but nobody really said a word. I was with Rowena, and they apparently knew her.

"Miss DeLancy!" The woman at the front table crowed, refusing to even look at me. "How are you? Is this a…" She finally took a glance at me. "Bad hair day?"

"No, Charlotte, it's perfectly fine." Rowena assured the woman. "This is my niece. Her parents are a… little different." She commented. "But we're here to give her a wonderful new hair experience, aren't we dearie?" She looked over expectantly at me. I nodded quickly, uncertain of what else to do.

"Wonderful, then. You know how we're always happy to help those in need find their inner goddess." The Charlotte woman looked at me, smiling politely. "What're you looking for, dear? What version of you is the most perfect?"

"Um…" I hadn't been in a salon in forever. I had literally given myself my last haircut, and the singular one before that had been from Sam and Dean. "I've been through a series of bad home-done dye jobs. Is there anything you guys can do to put it back the way it was?" I glanced over at Rowena, still not quite certain exactly WHY we were here instead of running, but willing to roll with it.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd turn you away and say it's in your best interests to let it grow out naturally. But since you're so close to miss DeLancy," she smiled at Rowena. "I think we can manage to pull something off."

"Thank you so much, Charlotte." Rowena crooned.

"And as for you, ma'am?"

"You know that style I've told you that I wanted to save for a special occasion?" She asked. Charlotte's face lit up brightly.

"Oh my gosh, congratulations!" She cheered, excited. I didn't understand what she meant, but I just went with it. A second later, a new woman carted me off to some chair and got to work, whereas Rowena took a seat in the chair beside me. I glanced over at her again, still more than a little confused.

"Rowena…" I looked around me, uncertain of whether to keep my voice down or not. Nobody seemed to be paying me any attention, which didn't necessarily make me feel any better. "Why are we here? Why aren't we, oh, I don't know, formulating a plan? Figuring things out? Doing something else that is productive and not… HERE?!" I motioned around me, sitting back more as a random salon woman came around to where I was.

"Let's get started with undoing all this mess, why don't we?" She stated, smiling brightly and normally. I glanced over at Rowena again, but she didn't answer, just chatted normally with a woman she seemed familiar with as my own salon person tried to speak with me. "Where are you from?"

"Michigan."

"What're you doing all the way out here?"

"Visiting my… Ah…" I fought to remember what Rowena had called me. Her niece. "My aunt DeLancy."

"Just a family visit or any special occasion?"

"Well… She is getting that special occasion hairdo." I evaded.

"Oh my gosh she is?!" My stylist (was that the right word? I didn't even know. I was still too confused to know) turned to Rowena, confirming with her own hair person, who nodded. "Yay! When's the big day?"

"Soon, actually." Rowena replied, her voice holding a hint of sorrow and… was that relief? The stylists didn't notice, though. They were too busy being gleeful. "Much sooner than I thought it would be."

"Yay!"

My stylist didn't probe any further in to my life, choosing instead to gossip with Rowena and the flurry of women that now surrounded her. I let them go with it, and chose to just think over everything and let it all sink in. If this was how Rowena wanted to spend her time before shit hit the fan, then fine. But I wasn't going to let that happen. I needed to formulate a plan, a way of attacking it all.

But I couldn't go everything at once. That would literally blew up in my face worse than when I was just starting out with magic and killing the furniture in the safehouse. I had to chose one problem, and work at it individually before I went on to the second. That was the only way I had a shot of being any sort of successful. But which one would I need to tackle first? Which one could I tackle first?

The British Men of Letters. As powerful as they were, there was one weakness that I could use; they were human. They were just people, just humans, and they… they had destroyed everything that had been good in my life. My friendships, my beliefs on good, my family…

Mrs. Tran…

They were going to be first. They had to be first, but I also needed to warn others. I needed word to get to Sam and Dean, and Mary too if I still could. I'd sent Eileen off to do just that, but I didn't have any guarantee that that had worked. Ketch had asked for a hellhound…

Whose to say he didn't get it, and hasn't been using it. That was another problem, the fact that Ketch had a hellhound. Hunters wouldn't be expecting a hellhound to come after them, it would be devastating and… just terrifying.

I had to get to Sam and Dean. I had to get to Mary and pull her out before it got bad. I had to at least let them know, in case they hit the kill list next.

I wondered what the Men of Letters said to them, to cover up my disappearance. Did I die on an assignment with T.J., completely obliterated, no bodies found? Am I out in meetings like Mick was supposed to be? Did I just… disappear again? Did a spell backfire on me finally? Did some creature put a bullet between my eyes?

I smirked for a second, acknowledging that none of that was true. The Men of Letters may know I'm alive, but they didn't know where I was. They didn't know what I could do, if Mick didn't spill my secrets. If all went right… I could take them down. I could get in and get it done.

I needed to warn the others first, but… I could do this. I could definitely do this, or at least die in a blaze of goddamn glory.

I sat in silence, letting the mindless chatter fade around me as I formulated a better plan, building it in my mind like one of Crowley's chess games. Evaluate your opponent's moves, what you know they're aware of and what you know they're not. Leave contingencies for the unforeseeable. Be smart. For a moment, I couldn't help but think back to when I was learning again, training and trying and failing but at least grasping a basic concept of the approach to it all. It was about knowing the outcomes, preparing for multiple scenarios, and being able to think on the fly. It was all about control, about shifting the scales to my favor and keeping them that way.

It was about taking control and keeping it.

And by Chuck, it was about damn time I regained control over my own damn life.

An hour or two went by quickly, with me planning and thinking every minute of it. I had an idea, now. I had a plan. I just had to start working on it, and hope to move quick enough before anything…

Before anything worse could happen.

"Well," my stylist commented. "It wasn't easy, but if you'll take a look at yourself in the mirror now," she held up a mirror for me to look in to. "You'll see it'll take time, but this really looks good on you. I don't see why you ever dyed it in the first place!"

I took a second to actually look at it all, and couldn't believe what I saw. It was… It was me.

I didn't look like the kid who ran away from home, but I looked like the grown-up version of her. The crappy brown hair was gone, and in it's place was the original brown… The same color of my mom's. Back to the same dark waves, that matched my mother's. I looked…

I looked a little bit like my mom, now. A little older. A little smarter. A little more like her. I hadn't seen it before, but now that I actually looked at myself in the mirror, with everything reset…

I looked… Like me. It felt right, for the first time in a while, to look at myself in a mirror.

"I… ah…" I smiled for just a second longer before pushing the mirror aside. "Thank you."

"No worries! You look absolutely gorgeous!" The stylist crowed. I glanced over at Rowena, and saw that she looked, well… stunning. She knew fashion, she knew style, and she knew what she wanted. She liked looking like glamour and elegance, so that was what she'd done.

Rowena paid for the both of us, and walked out to her car quickly. I followed just as fast, taking a moment to look at her and acknowledge what she'd done.

I'd just told her that her days were more than likely numbered, and her response was to… Get her hair done? Why would she do that, do all of this, instead of run? Instead of prepare to fight?

Unless…

I waited until we were outside and in the car before I spoke. "You're not going to fight, are you?" I asked. She sat in the car, not quite looking over at me.

"No." She agreed. "No, I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm very, very tired." She replied. "Because at this point in my life, I am the only MacLeod left. I have no children left alive, no grandchildren. Any living descendants at this point are too far down the line for me to claim any direct familial relation to. I am…" She sighed. "I am all alone now, Kylie. I have nobody left but myself, and I think I'm tired of being alone. I think that I am just plain tired of being the only one here, the only one left, and… Just alone."

"So you're going to let Lucifer kill you?"

"I'm going to stand my ground where I am now." She stated. She hadn't had the car move yet, just sat there with the engine on. "And if I die, then I will accept it. But I am done with running, done with fighting as long as I have. You still have fight in you, but me…" She shook her head. "I have been alive for too long to have that kind of fight left within my spirit."

"But… Rowena…" I stopped when she turned to look at me, really look at me, and I remembered what she said. "Better to leave a pretty corpse than an ugly one."

"Precisely." She looked away from me then, facing forwards but still not making the car move. "If I'm going to die, sweetheart, then I'm going to die the only way I know how; in style."

"And what about me?"

"I don't think you're going to die." She said. "You fight too hard to cling to life, and to not fail those you care about. I have nobody besides myself that I could care about." She let out another small sigh before shaking her head. "But no matter. Come along, let's get you clothes before I outfit you with weaponry and send you on your way."

She refused to speak any more on the matter of her probably dying after that, instead focusing on my plans and what I would consider pointless conversation.

She set me up with a few different sets of clothes, some toiletries, and a small bag to carry it all in. I couldn't go anywhere else that I had clothes stashed at this point, and the options to change out of my, admittedly ill-fitting runaway choices, were options that I actually kind of enjoyed having.

Our last stop before heading back was an apothecary shop. There, Rowena and I picked out a very nice hoard of herbs and spell ingredients that we both would need. Me for fighting, her for making a last stand.

"So what if you make it out?" I asked her finally. "What if you don't die, if you beat Lucifer or he decides to not come after you?" She just raised an eyebrow at me not saying a word. She didn't have to. We both knew that Lucifer would come for her. "Fine. What if you make it out alive?" Another raised eyebrow, but no answers.

"One doesn't view their death lightly, Kylie." She finally answered. "I know that now my days are definitively numbered."

"You said… That you were viewing the choice that would lead to your death." I repeated, remembering how she explained it. "Whose choice leads to your death?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said the choice, not your choice." I explained. "So… Whose choice leads to it? Mine, or yours?" She didn't answer me, but I pressed anyways. "Whose choice Rowena?" Still no answer.

Once we had everything, we went back to the house. She didn't say another word on the matter, no matter how much I pressed and asked and tried to get an answer out of her. Once we got back, she still ignored me, and instead walked inside to get a bag for everything to go in to.

"Rowena!" I shouted, still trailing after her. She stopped then, turning to face me.

"Dearie," she said, her voice a deathly calm that matched the tightness of her pursed lips. "I would like you to unfreeze Charles soon, please, and to stop your matter of inquiry."

"Why should I?"

"Because I've been kind enough to help you." She stated. "And I think I deserve that same kindness in return."

That was it.

No threats. No promises of pain on my end. Just… Just a request.

She worked in silence, efficiently getting items packed up and put away. Ingredients were packaged individually, labelled, and stored neatly in a sewing box. Clothes and toiletries were put in a nice-enough looking backpack. After the majority of items were packed, she left the room for a moment to acquire something or other. I stayed behind, thinking of everything she had just done in a matter of hours and, more importantly, why. If my choice was the one that caused her death, and Lucifer would find her thanks to me, then why be kind to me? Why help me when I was just going to bring death to her door?

Then again, if it wasn't my choice, then was it hers to help me that damned her? If it was her choice, then she could change it, she could fight if she wanted to. But…

But she wasn't going to fight. She wasn't going to run. She wasn't going to do anything but stand her ground here, in this mansion, and accept her fate.

"It's about taking control." I muttered to myself. That was all any of us were scrambling to do. I was working to take control of my own life and what was happening. Rowena was at least going to take control of her death, and take it with dignity. Crowley had tried to take control of Hell. The Men of Letters were trying to control America. Lucifer wanted control over seeing his son, and in turn probably the world.

We were all trying to gain control, in one way or another.

She came back with a small wallet, a bracelet, and a pistol with multiple pre-loaded cartridges.

"For gas and food." She started, handing me the wallet and the keys to the charger. Before I could say anything, she continued. "For protection." She clasped the bracelet around my wrist, and I could feel a charm on it. It would keep me invisible, for now; untraceable even with magic. The only catch on it was that I couldn't use too much of my power, or it wouldn't matter. I'd be creating signals for anyone who wanted to find me to track, friend and foe alike. The spell would fade soon enough, but it would at least give me a head start. "And so you don't have to make a decision that I believe you will regret." She set the gun and cartridges on the table, looking at them for a moment. "It's a Desert Eagle, .50 AE." I looked over at her, confused as to when she learned about guns. "Charles' brother gave it to him as a gift for his birthday, but he can't stand to hold or shoot a gun. His brother, on the other hand, thinks Charles could use some heavier weaponry in his house. He won't notice it's missing."

She put the cartridges in the bag with my clothes, and I took a moment to stuff the wallet and keys in to my pocket. She didn't embellish on the choice she was talking about. I knew. Crowley had told me. When she was done putting everything away in a system she considered correct and proper, she handed it all to me. I stashed the gun in the back of my pants, double and triple checking to make sure the safety was on before I did. There wasn't much else to say or do after that.

"Thank you." I finally said, taking a breath. "And for what it's worth… I'm sorry." I didn't know what I was apologizing for, exactly. I'm sorry for your son's death. I'm sorry for being the harbinger of your death. I'm sorry for leading Lucifer to you. I'm sorry that you will die. I'm sorry for bringing the Men of Letters down on us. I'm sorry I can't do anything to protect you. I'm sorry for altering your memories. I just…

I just apologized.

Rowena nodded, seeming to somehow understand. "Don't worry about it dear." She tole me, patting me on the shoulder lightly. "Everything meets its end eventually."

I took my new things, and waved a hand at her husband as I walked to the door. I could just barely hear him start to talk again as I opened their front door, and made my way to the car. "If anything's missing, there'll be HELL to…" I smirked, know how his sentence would've ended if he hadn't just been unfrozen to find me missing.

"Hell to pay." I muttered, hopping in the car. I started it with ease, revving the engine a few times for good measure. "Yeah, there's hell to pay, alright. Just not to me."

I peeled out of their driveway and started making my way to where I knew the Compound was. There was hell to pay, and it was about damn time I started doling it out.

I just hoped Sam and Dean weren't dead just yet; that Mary hadn't been broken by them yet. If they were…

I was taking control, one way or another. It was just a question of what I chose to do as I dealt the punishment to those who deserved it.