Author's/Underhill's Note: Oh. Dear. God. Here's chapter 23, way later than I expected to post it. I am soooo sorry : ( Work is kind of kicking my ass, and then Halloween showed up and that's my unofficial Christmas, so, horror movies aaaall day long. And this chapter is a little shorter too... I am sad... but! I think the next chapter will be out sooner! I am totally starting it now! In addition: disclaimers, disclaimers, I own nothing but the original plot and reviewers (miss Nightlock and Fulminata, you guys are fantastic, and you totally motivate me to keep writing), I loooove you! Now I'm going to stop rambling, get some aspirin, and write some more. As usual, I hope this chapter doesn't suck cuz I kind of hurried to put it up. Enjoy and please review!

March 8, 11:30 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam is gone almost as soon as he arrives and Bobby's glad. He feels guilty to be glad, but he is nonetheless. He's especially grateful to Cas, who persuaded Sam it might be best if he stayed away for a month or two. Apocalypse or not, Bobby needs time, and Sam constantly trying to wedge himself back in his good graces isn't helping any. Cas has sent Sam off on a hunt. There are demonic omens coming from Blue Earth, Minnesota, so Sam and Rufus are going to check it out.

Bobby's been drinking more and passing out early (for them) the last few days, and it leaves Cas in the old house. It's quiet during the night, which Cas likes, but sometimes claustrophobic. Bobby's house is cluttered, and Cas is used to wide open areas; Heaven was boundless, and he thinks he'll never get used to being unable to stretch his wings. It's when these feelings get too strong that he goes out into the junkyard and leans against an old and familiar car and watches the stars.

He remembers that night so vividly. Dean was leaning right where Cas is now. He remembers Dean's myriad of expressions. He remembers the frustration, the irritation, the sadness. Then the amusement, then the shock, then…

He misses Dean. He…

"Castiel." It's Balthazar's voice, so Cas turns around. The blond angel looks nervous, like he's not sure he should be here; he's wringing his hands.

"Balthazar," Cas acknowledges, giving a slight nod. "Have you found the answers you sought?"

"They're going to destroy it," Balthazar lets out in a rush. "Everything, they're going to burn the world. Lucifer and Michael and - - Anna's dead! Castiel, she is no where to be found!"

Cas nods again. "I know."

"How are you so calm? Our brothers are going to kill each other!"

Cas almost smiles. "I've had some time to… adjust." And Fall.

"And Dean Winchester, he was… he was really sent to Hell on purpose? WE started the Apocalypse, not the humans?"

"We did. And then they sent Adam to break in his place."

"It didn't work though, Castiel. Adam Milligan is gone. Someone is hiding him. I thought it was you at first, but…" But now that he's seen Cas, he knows it couldn't possibly. Cas is more than halfway Fallen, and would never again be able to pull someone from death. Cas can see Balthazar mourn for him, but doesn't want his pity. He looks away.

"So why are you here, Balthazar? You know what's going on in Heaven, but what do you plan to do about it?"

"I. I…"

"Are you prepared to give it all up and fight? Or will you follow blindly in our brothers' footsteps and allow Father's creation to be destroyed?" Cas personally doesn't care what their Father thinks anymore, but he knows Balthazar willl; he's not above manipulation to gain allies now, even if it's his family.

"Castiel…"

Castiel looks up now, straight into Balthazar's eyes. "Are you ready to do the right thing brother?"

Balthazar looks a bit pissed. He knows what Castiel is doing but can't deny what he's saying. And he really REALLY doesn't want to lose his Grace and his family.

"Are you ready to rebel?"

Balthazar should say no. He should walk away from this and pretend he never heard anything about the Apocalypse. But Castiel is his family too, and Castiel needs help, and Balthazar… He can't let the world go up in flames when this isn't what their Father intended. It CAN'T be what their Father intended.

"I know I'm gonna live to regret this," he says, "but I'm officially on your team. You bastard."

The only sign that Cas hears him is his top lip twitching upwards.

"Oh shut up, Castiel."

"I didn't say anything, brother."

Balthazar scowls at him. "You were thinking it very hard." Cas doesn't deny it. Balthazar steels himself. "Well. Consider me your inside man."

March 10, 4 AM, Michigan

Claire is kneeling by her mother's bedside, chin resting on the bedspread and hands folded loosely in front of her, looking almost as if she were in prayer. Claire would laugh at that, because prayer is, at this point, a ludicrous notion to her. Who would be listening? God? Castiel? No, Claire is on her own.

This is the last night they'll be spending in a motel room; Amelia Novak has come through at last, finding a cheap rental they can afford while they look for buyers for the house.

Claire's been watching her mother sleep every night for days. The woman tosses and turns and mutters, and Claire sacrifices rest to try and make sense of it. "Had to…" her mother whispers, her head whipping on the pillow. "Jimmy, had to…" Claire just can't make sense of it. She sighs and gets up; it's almost dawn, so she needs some sleep.

"Jimmy, it was there, it was there, Jimmy." Claire pauses. "There, right there…"

Claire kneels by her mother again. "What was there, honey?" she asks, trying to mimic her dad (she fails miserably, but her unconscious mother doesn't seem to notice).

"Outside the hospital, black eyes…"

Claire freezes. Black eyes. Jesus Christ.

"Had to get her away, had to… Don't know what to do, Jimmy…"

Claire stumbles back. Jesus Christ. Her mother had seen a demon in Pontiac. There was no reason for anything supernatural to be in nowhere Illinois, no reason at all.

Except for Claire.

"Shit," Claire swears, and she feels justified in this. Because demons are looking for her. "Shit."

March 10, 10:05 AM, Iowa

Adam's been going steadily east for the past six days. With no word from L and a warning to keep moving, he left Montana before he got too comfortable. Even if leaving the comfort of the familiar scared the shit out of him.

He feels bad for taking advantage of his uncle - - he'd taken the emergency cash from under the kitchen cupboard and anything he thought he could sell - - but it was necessary.

He stops at a 7-11 somewhere in Iowa; he's not exactly sure where and he hasn't been keeping track. He doesn't stop often now, just to sleep and gather supplies.

He pushes the door open and it makes a metallic jingle. He looks around. There are no other customers besides himself, and the guy running the register doesn't look twice at him, just keeps reading his magazine. Seems safe enough.

He runs down his mental list of supplies: peanut butter, jelly, bread, cheeto puffs. You know, the essentials.

Once he's nearly done filling his basket up with food, he swings by the newspaper/magazine aisle; he figures he should keep up with the news, as well as see what he missed. He starts browsing periodicals by their headlines. One in particular catches his eye.

It's what the cashier is reading: Weekly World News. "Graves Robbed in Indiana" is the headline. He narrows his eyes. I cannot believe I am opening this piece of trash, he mentally berates himself, but flips it open anyway. He skims the article and swears. It sounds familiar, too goddamn familiar. And without stopping to analyze his motives, he's rung up and out the door, leaving nothing but skid marks outside.

March 10, late afternoon, Blue Earth, Minnesota

It's a whole town of Hunters. Sam doesn't know what to do with that.

Cas sent Sam and Rufus here on what seemed like a routine job - - demon omens, so kill a few demons, knock back a few victory beers, then head back to Sioux Falls to see if Bobby's talking to anyone again. But this?

"So Rob tells me you two hunt demons."

Rufus snorts and crosses his arms. Sam decides to be polite (it's a priest, come on), and responds. "Uh… yes sir."

"You missed a few."

Rufus scowls but Sam chuckles. "Yeah. Tell us about it. Any idea why they're here?"

The pastor explains but something doesn't quite sit right with Sam. He's leaving something out, something important.

"…And that exorcism was Enochian Someone's telling you something."

"I'm sorry. I… uh. I can't discuss it."

"Like hell you can't," Rufus says, grip tightening on his gun.

A girl walks in then. "Dad, it's okay."

"Leah - - "

"It's Sam Winchester and… " She looks at Rufus with a slightly baffled look on her face. "and his… friend."

Sam snorts and Rufus growls. "This is Rufus," Sam introduces them. Rufus nods but obviously won't extend his goodwill as far as speaking, or shaking hands. Sam resists rolling his eyes. Rufus is more suspicious than Bobby, he thinks, and that's saying something.

Later, in the motel room, Sam tries making a call.

"I don't understand why, why do you want me to say my name?" A series of beeps goes off and Sam tries hard not to smile. He's getting better, but Cas still hasn't figured out the whole cellphone thing. Fortunately, Bobby says he's much better with the landlines.

"Cas, hey, uh, it's me. So we are in Blue Earth, Minnesota, and yeah, it's full of demons." Rufus huffs. "Okay, REALLY full of demons. And um, we could use a little help. I… hope you get this." Because Sam has so many doubts right now on whether Cas knows how to work his voicemail.

"So, you reach your angel friend?" Rufus asks, looking up from the circle of papers he's surrounded himself with.

"Yeah, I left him a message. I think. So uh, what's your theory? Why all the demon hits?"

Rufus grunts and looks back at the papers. "Don't know. The girl, maybe? The 'prophet.'"

Sam wrinkles his brow. "You don't think she is."

"You do?" Rufus shoots back.

Sam doesn't have a ready answer for that because he has to wonder. Why are these angels giving instructions to a girl in Blue Earth - - what's so special about this place? Why hasn't she ratted Sam's location out to her heavenly assistance yet? More importantly, why aren't the angels interfering with her like they do with Chuck? He wonders belatedly: whatever did happen with Chuck? He vows to check in on it later.

"Uh…"

Rufus nods. "That's what I thought. Put on your reading glasses, kid, cause until your pet angel calls you back we've got some readin' to do."

Sam sighs and picks up a paper. "Where do I start?"

March 10, evening, New York, New York

Almost a week has passed and Dean and Bela have already finished two jobs. One took them to Alaska ("Never again, Dean. No cold weather climates, EVER AGAIN.") to get a simple scrap of paper, except it wasn't so simple and it wasn't exactly paper. It was a tattoo design sewed onto a piece of animal hide, and they obtained it from an Inuit elder who was "nearing the end of [her] thread." It was inked across her face and hands they could see, and she told them it was an old pattern passed down generation through generation in her tribe, all the way from the first priestess of Pukkeenegak. "You will never cast a misstitch," she told them, "if you inscribe this upon your skin."

"This is seriously worth five hundred thousand to someone?" Dean asks, packing it into a box; they have an appointment in the morning with a buyer. He's actually kind of looking forward to completing the paperwork.

"It is. I think she was a seamstress before she came into money."

"So, sentimental reasons?"

Bela shrugs. She gestures at the Lugosi and Steele phone line that rests between their desks. "Probably. Would you play the messages, darling? I want to see if we have any jobs lined up."

Dean punches the button and listens to their outgoing.

"… reached Lugosi and Steele Antiquities: finders of the rare and supernatural…"

There's a few case offers, two of which Bela rejects offhand. "Ugh. Skip it. That's Fawkes, the slimy bastard. Next." Dean skips ahead. What's next is a hesitant but deep female voice.

"So, uh, this girl gave me your card. Uh. She. We. Uh. Shit. I'm gonna level with you.. We're werewolves." The line is so cheesy that Dean bursts into laughter. "And see, werewolves are kind of territorial. Well, you probably know that. Uhm…"

Bela punches the pause button on the message machine. "Do people just give our card to everyone?" she asks.

Dean takes in her wild-eyed look. Smirks. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm not the one who gives out our phone number." He leans back in his chair and props his feet up, folds his hands behind his head. Bela scowls and kicks the chair out from under him.

"Oh, oooowwww…" Dean says from the floor.

"You deserved it." She's irritated he can tell but there's no real venom behind it, so Dean doesn't argue. He just stretches out on the floor and grins.

"You know, I kind of like it down here." Bela glares at him. "It's kind of comfy." She glares harder. Dean winks up at her, then rolls as she aims another kick as his ankles. Bela punches the message machine back on when Dean starts laughing at her.

"Winchesters," she mutters.

Time: Irrelevant, Heaven

Deep in one of Heaven's Green Rooms, a disembodied Voice is hiding. He dares not move because all of Heaven's host is looking for him, but he knows he has to take a chance. He needs help to get out of here. He needs his vessel. And the only people who can help he can reach only in their dreams. He steels his nerves.

He reaches out.