Author's/Underhill's Note: ALIIIIVE! *gasps* Retail, during the holidays? It's goddamn evil. And sometimes there's crying. I actually found myself doing math for fun during breaks because that's how crazy I'm going. Why am I saying any of this? Because I'm losing it, man, Christmas is going to kill me, but once the holidays are over, I should be able to get chapters out with a little more regularity. And oh my god, the chapters are getting longer! Progress? PROGRESS! So, this chapter doesn't make me as happy as I'd like it, but I wanted to get it posted finally. Now, the three! 1) DISCLAAAIMMEEERRS I don't own Supernatural but goddamn if I did would there be so much slash, like slash everywhere. 2) Reviewers, you are more than pretty awesome; you are AWESOMELY awesome, like, seriously, I am not kidding when I say you guys make this all worth it. Pie for all! 3) STUFF! Also, if you celebrate holidays, happy holidays! Now, I'm gonna go outline the next chapter, so review, enjoy (hopefully), and I'll see you chapter 30!

Chapter 29:

March 29st, 1 AM, Kentucky

Adam was nineteen years old when he was eaten by ghouls, and he's still nineteen when risen. He volunteered at the local hospital the summer before he died and the doctors had called him young. He hadn't felt it then, but he does now. He's nineteen, crouched behind a bar's dumpster, trying to avoid getting the crap beaten out of him by a couple of angry guys he hustled at pool. I used to be a normal teenager. Job, school, distant parental figures. The works.

"Where the hell is he?" a deep male voice growls.

"Can't have gone far, wherever he went. I'll circle right around the bar, you go left."

Aw, damn Adam leaps to his feet and starts running for the parking lot.

"There he is!"

"Grab him!"

On reflection, he thinks between harsh breaths, (maybe hitting the same bar two nights in a row was a bad idea.) At least he'll get a workout.

April 1st, 10:09 AM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"You sure you're going to be okay with him until we get back?" Sam asks looking far too concerned for Bobby's tastes. The older Hunter rolls his eyes.

"I don't think I gotta worry about him." Bobby pokes Gabriel's sleeping form. "He ain't going anywhere. Now git, or Rufus'll leave without you." And your fool self is driving me crazy.

Sam looks once more between Bobby and the passed out form of Gabriel before nodding and heading out the door. "We'll be back in a week," he tells Bobby. "No later."

"Sam."

"And I'll call - - "

Bobby hurls one of his boots at Sam's head, and the boy ducks through the door just in time. The door slams shut.

"Good," he mutters.

Rufus arrived the night before with a body laid out on the back seat. Sam helped him haul in the angel - - Gabriel, the goddamn archangel - - and dump him unceremoniously on the den floor. He's been there since then.

"Good," he mutters again. Except it's not good. It's quiet.

Normally, Bobby likes quiet. No idjit Winchesters running around, no Rufus asking for favors… But the last few months he's gotten used to noise. Cas is a constant that's missing.

With no Cas, he's gonna have to go back to answering the phone lines, and that takes him away from a whole lot of research. He won't be able to do as much research, or find Hunts, and hell, he's never gonna get to read a good book for fun again. Dammit, Sam.

The phone rings. Bobby wheels himself over to the phone bank and pushes Cas' stuff out of the way. It's the FBI line. "Hello?"

As he listens to the local authority talk about an Agent Schwarzenneger (must be O'Malley, the stupid bastard), he flips through some of the papers Cas has left.

Huh. He turns the page. Interesting.

April 3, 10 PM, highway in the middle of nowhere

The storm is like the Great Flood all over again. Sam can barely see through the rain to the road, and wonders how Rufus is driving straight at all.

It seems like every exit is closed, every detour flooded. They're being pushed along this two lane highway.

It feels like they're being herded towards something.

When there's finally an exit with a hotel sign blinking bright through the rain, Sam gets a wiggy feeling.

"Yeeeeah, let's just keep on driving."

Rufus grunts. "No complaints here." The older Hunter feels the wrongness of this all too.

The storm just gets worse from there though. From being barely able to see they go to not being able to see at all, and when a shape blurs past them Rufus slams on the brakes and they hydroplane. It all occurs in flashes, and Sam will later realize just how lucky they got. They end up in flat in a ditch instead of the car rolling. They don't feel lucky, falling out into a knee-depth of mud on their hands and knees. The mouthful of mud Sam swallows, in fact, makes him feel quite unlucky. Then Rufus pulls him up with two hands under his armpits and he breathes air again.

The old Hunter slaps Sam on the back. "Alive?"

Sam coughs and rubs at his throat. "Yeah. Ugh, yeah."

"Yeah, don't sound so grateful, boy. Now get your ass over here and try and help me push your damn car back onto the road." Rufus moves in high, big strides, obviously uncomfortable but seemingly at ease. So...

Sam tries moving his feet. Nothing. He tugs harder. Nothing. He - - his feet tear free of his shoes and he stumbles forward a few steps. …Before his feet stick in the mud again. He sighs.

"Well, this was a stupid plan," he says, scraping more mud off his face. The look Rufus shoots him would make lesser men run. As it is, Sam's not wearing any shoes, is knee deep in mud, and can't move his feet. Whether he's a lesser man or not, Sam's not going anywhere.

April 3, 11 PM, Hotel Elysium

"They did not stop…" Mercury looks nervously at Kali. Last time he failed… He shudders.

As Odin and Zao Shen start bickering, Kali sneers. "Then we will just have to follow," she says.

April 3, 11:54 PM, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Bobby stares down at the latest package delivered. The last piece of the spell. All the ingredients are gathered, but Rufus and Sam are still gone and the idjits aren't answering their phones. He'll just have to start without them.

It doesn't take long to get the altar assembled and a circle of holy oil laid down. Bobby takes the folded piece of paper Rufus had given to him with the spell for joining on it and takes a deep breath. He begins reading.

It's a fairly simple ceremony. It starts going wrong fast.

"What is separate, become combined…"

Every lightbulb in the house explodes.

"...Join this vessel with this spirit…"

The house begins to shake, the walls rattle.

"…and the two pieces become whole."

There's a blast and Bobby is thrown backwards. He recalls the last words of the spell. 'Close your eyes.' He slams his lids shut before:

Light. Light. Light.

The spell said to cover his eyes, but Bobby didn't know how bad it would be. Even through his eyelids the light shone so bright it burned. He didn't realize he'd passed out until he wakes up in the other room.

How the… Oh yeah… The blast knocked him out of the damn room, so he has no idea what's waiting for him.

"Winchester?" a voice calls from the next room over. "Is the holy oil really necessary?"

Shit. It worked. He blinks. Well what the hell am I supposed to do now? He hasn't thought this through, he realizes. He's just been so ANTSY since he was put in this wheelchair, and while Cas' company had alleviated that some, his disappearance has made it all the worse. And, he thinks petulantly, it's not like the phone has been ringing off the hook lately, he has to make himself useful somehow. Right? Right. Here goes nothing.

Bobby rolls into the den and comes face to face with an upright and entirely awake archangel. They stare at each other for a moment before Gabriel frowns. "You're not D - - uh, Winchester," the angel concludes. The man shifts nervously under Bobby's watchful eye.

"Yeah, nice observation skills ya got there, Gabriel."

"Ah, shit. So you know about me, huh?"

"Yep."

The angel is silent, and Bobby would swear he looks uncomfortable if he didn't know any better. From what Sam tells him Gabriel is cocky, arrogant, and pretty much an ass with family issues. Sounds kind of like Dean, Bobby thinks with a fond smile.

He wonders about Dean sometimes. Not if he's okay, because god damn, he's in Hell, but… He just wonders. He usually cuts himself off before his mind can go too far, but surrounded by Cas's research the last few days, he can't help it. Cas's careful handwriting litters the margins of various tomes (and he's going to have WORDS with that angel when he sees him again) with questions like 'How much humanity remains?' and 'Is there any coming back, can you bring back/suppress memories?' and 'Where are they keeping him? How long has it been?'

Wait, wait, wait, the archangel's said something. He missed it.

"Huh?"

The angel gives him a puzzled look before a look of realization dawns on him. "Heeeey, wait-a-minute. I know you! You're Bobby Singer!"

Oh great, he thinks. I'm on the angels' radar now. "Could be."

"Heh. Shorter than I expected."

…Bobby is going to kill this angel.

"Anyway, how did I end up in this dump? I didn't exactly expect to wake up here."

"Where DID you expect to wake up?" Bobby asks, genuinely curious.

Gabriel waves a hand. "Not important. How'd you get my body? Or my Grace for that matter."

"Well, we bought your Grace for five thousand at a pawn shop."

"ONLY FIVE THOUSAND?"

"Don't sound so outraged. S'not like the guy knew what it was. And your body was an express delivery."

"…Delivery?" Gabriel feels a spark of anger start building under his skin.

"You know a Lugosi and Steele Antiquities?"

Gabriel grits his teeth. "No," he says stiffly.

"Well, they know you. Dropped you in front of my friend's house with a spell attached. Guess they knew he had your Grace too."

"I… those… FUCK!"

"So you DO know them?"

"Those immature, idiotic - - "

"Well, you know Bela at least," Bobby decides with a nod to himself.

" - - I TOLD them - - "

"Ya definitely know Bela…"

" - - but noooooo! - - "

"Who's Steele though?"

Oh, Gabriel knows who Steele is, beyond a doubt. Steele is some idiotic alias Dean Winchester must have cooked up to keep incognito topside, just like Gabriel did when he went into witness protection so long ago and started going by Loki. Dean likes to think he's soooo original when really: we're not so different after all, are we? That, Gabriel thinks, is a disturbing thought.

In a complete non-sequiter he says, "You know, you're ruining the rug."

The Hunter looks down at the burning circle on the floor. "Probably was time to redecorate anyway."

"You know, if you let down the wall I could fix it for you. Maybe spruce the place up. A fresh coat of paint. Some doilies. Figurines. An angel's touch." He gestures around the room. "Snap of the fingers. Literally."

Bobby gives him a look that's half exasperation and half amused. Gabriel takes this as a good sign. As long as the man's not looking at him in outright hatred and distrust, he has a chance of persuading Bobby to let him go. Because he needs to go.

It's in the air; he can feel it. Things are about to come to a head.

April 4, 10 AM, Michigan

Claire's finding it harder and harder to sleep. Her mom's been gone four days so far this time, and on top of that the radio angel is getting louder.

Claire doesn't know if they're talking louder, or if there's more communication, or if she's simply getting more and more tuned in, but whatever it is, it's driving her mad.

(Screaming screaming always screaming, he's so angry why is he always so angry - -)

Zachariah, especially, is deafening. She tries putting a pillow over her head at night and plugging her ears but it doesn't help - - it's all inside. When it gets too bad, she passes out. It happens more and more often, and much more than she'd like.

This time, when Claire wakes up, she knows several things. One, John Winchester is beyond reach now. Two, Castiel is… gone.

I need to get out of here, she thinks, stumbling to her feet. Any protection Castiel might have granted her (and she has her doubts as to if there was any) is gone, and she has to get out of here. She can't pretend this is safe anymore.

She's frantically searching for her bag when the door swings open. Claire pauses before she hears, "Claire." Thank God, she thinks, going back to her scrambling. She won't have to track her mother down now.

"Mom, I need your keys, we need to get out of here, they could be coming at any moment - - "

"Claire."

Claire stops, suddenly registering the tone of her mother's voice. Monotone. Emotionless. She looks up into her mother's face.

"Claire." The woman smiles - - and it's not her mother.

She looks into black eyes.

April 4, 12:15 PM, New York, New York

Charlie is messing with the Lugosi and Steele server when the Hunters come. Bela and Dean are out picking up a pizza ("When it's this good, of COURSE they don't deliver, Dean") and left Charlie to hold down the fort. Since she hates flying almost as much as Dean, they offered to let Charlie stay the week on a kind of pseudo-vacation. If I'm not at the office, she thinks, recalling her new desk job, it's SO a vacation.

She clicks the page forward and the door bursts in with a SMASH. Charlie screams as two gun-toting maniacs step into the room. Shit, shit, shit… She clicks the file closed and backs away from the laptop.

That's just about when they catch sight of her. "Who the hell are you?" the men yell.

"Who the hell am I?" Charlie yells back, unbelieving. "Who the hell are you?!" Think quick Charlie. They've got guns but no masks and instead of stealth they kicked the door down, so probably not thieves. Which means they're either nuts or after Bela or Dean. Her brain is one long run-on sentence. "…And what the hell are you doing in my loft?"

"YOUR loft?"

The older man rolls his eyes and pushes the younger one aside. "Excuse me, miss, do you happen to know a Bela Talbot?"

Talbot, that's one of Bela's names. "Uh, I know a Bela Lugosi. Like the guy from the old black and white movies, but not HIM, obviously - - " She babbles when she's nervous.

"And would she happen to be in residence?" he interrupts.

"How do you know her?" the other demands.

"Uh, I used to work for her." The younger one's hand twitches on his gun. " - - Just on computer stuff! A while back she went on an extended vacation and asked me to keep up the place. So, here I am."

"Mind if we come in, miss… ?"

"Charlene," she says. "But you can call me Charlie." She doesn't mention that they're already inside, because, you know, semantics might be lost on them.

The older man nods. "Alright."

Charlie's not too worried (aside from the guns, those worry the shit out of her). If this is a cursory look they won't find anything. There's nothing that screams 'Bela' or 'Lugosi and Steele Antiquities' laying around. No photos, all files locked carefully away when they're not using them.

The two men poke around for a minute. Then: "Sam, look at the wall." He motions with his gun towards a poster. It's of a cat, and Charlie has no idea how she hasn't noticed it before, ridiculous as it is.

" 'Hang in there, baby,' " the younger - - Sam - - reads aloud. "…Yeah, Bela's not here anymore."

"She didn't change the lease," the older guy says.

"She's making as many false trails as possible?"

A nod. "Probably."

Sam looks at her direct. "Your employer? She's kind of evil. You might want to look into other work." He doesn't wait for a response as he continues, "Do you know where she is now? Or anything about the guy she's working with?"

Charlie doesn't even waver. "California." Of the people to trust? Bela, long time friend and employer, or two crazy guys who've just committed a B&E? Yeah, Bela wins this one. "I'm pretty sure. I mean, she called from there last."

"Do you have a number?"

"No. It was a from a burner phone I'm pretty sure."

Sam swears. "We should just go, Rufus. We'll find her through other channels."

Rufus - - now she has a name for him - - looks unhappy but agrees. He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and writes two numbers on it with each of the men's names beside one. "These are our cells. If you do hear anything, you let us know." He hands it to Charlie and she takes it, trying to look as if she's buying any of this. Sam seems to find her genuine, but Rufus… she's pretty sure he sees right through her.

When they leave, she switches her cell open and auto-dials Bela. Charlie'll give her one thing: her life sure is exciting. There's the click of the pickup. "Bela? You should get back here. Like, now."

Bela is not often out of control. Of course Dean has seen her that way - - they were in Hell together after all - - but it takes a lot to bring that side out of her. Now is one of those occasions.

" - - in our home - - " she's ranting, grabbing objects off shelves and throwing them in one of those brown, cardboard filing boxes. " - - threatening OUR friend! The audacity, I can't believe Hunters!"

Dean can believe it. This is something they should have seen coming, especially after the express delivery they made to Rufus. But really, they both know they should have left the loft a long time ago. Hell, they probably should never have set up camp here at all. If Dean had found it back when he'd grabbed the unlucky rabbit's foot, then any Hunter with half a brain could find it. Let's face it, Dean thinks. Bela never exactly kept a low profile. Then again, neither did he. This incognito thing is new for both of them, and apparently we really suck at it.

Dean's packing just as frantically as her, though. All their files, all their business papers, he's shoving them in another box while he mentally packs his suitcase. He'll need to take his clothes, his guns, everything that can link him to this place, because Rufus and Sam WILL return for clues when they find out Charlie lied. He's surprised they left in the first place.

Charlie is watching this all with a bemused expression. Dean feels a little bad for her, because Bela like this? Scary.

"What are you going to do?" Charlie asks.

"First, we're swinging by your place and dropping you home - - "

"I live in New Mexico!"

" - - Then we're laying low. VERY low. For the foreseeable future." She looks at Dean as if expecting a challenge.

He raises his hands. "Hey, no argument here, Bels. Let's just get the files and some clothes and get on the road."

Dean doesn't ask where they're going, or how long they'll be there. It doesn't matter. As long as they're safe and Bela's with him, everything will be alright. Bela may be panicking, but Dean knows better. Bela once told him when she thought he was sleeping that she would take care of him. He'll take care of her also.

Charlie does ask though. "Where are you guys going to go?"

Bela looks off into the distance before lightbulbs flash in her eyes. "I think I know just the place."

Unknown, Time Unknown

Cas is floating. He doesn't know where. He can't feel anything, everything is dark, but occasionally he dreams. His favorite is this:

Dean is leaning back against the Impala (Cas will never understand this emotional attachment to an inanimate object) watching the night sky. He has seen the Hunter do this many times, sometimes with Sam, but always with a pensive look on his face. This night is no different.

Cas' sudden appearance doesn't make Dean jump like usual, which is odd.

"I am wondering why you are out here away from the others?"

Dean huffs. "Kind of depressing in there, don't you think? Last night night on earth and all."

Castiel remembers his confusion at the echo of Dean's earlier words. Hears himself say again, "But…"

Dean looks over at him, arms still crossed. "Yeah, Cas?"

"You just propositioned Ms. Harvelle with that same line," he says, and watches Dean's jaw drop. "Isn't the act of sexual intercourse supposed to be a joyous one?"

He can practically feel the confusion and embarrassment radiating off the Hunter. "Uh, yeah, sometimes." Cas listens intently. "Sometimes… Sometimes it's just for fun, and sometimes it's… Sometimes it's for saying goodbye."

"I see," Cas says, though he doesn't see. Humans are still an oddity to him; how they think, how they act, he can't always understand their emotions and actions. But he needs to follow this line. He needs to know. "Does that line often work?" he asks.

Dean is looking every way but at Cas as he says, "Uh. Not that I've been in this situation a lot before, but, uh, yeah."

Cas is silent.

This is his last chance, because tomorrow Cas knows he's dead. He will make damn sure Dean survives - - Dean HAS to survive - - but Cas knows that these are indeed his last few hours in the universe. It's now or never.

"Dean," he says, "it's our last night on earth."

For a moment all Dean looks is confused. "Yeah, Cas, I know that. Why…" Realization flashes across his face. "Oh. OH."

"Yes," Cas confirms. "Is that your answer? Oh?"

The length that Dean remains quiet and withholding an answer makes Cas shift from foot to foot nervously. What if Dean says no? What if the last thing Dean says to him is - -

"Yeah. My answer is yeah."

The dream fades and Cas floats through the darkness once more.