Sam was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a quiet morning coffee and idly scanning the internet for any leads on a case when his phone buzzed. He stared at the cryptic text message on the screen and sighed.

Stones fucked xxx

What the Hell did that mean? He tapped out a response and sent it.

Gabriel? What are u talking about?

A hand landed on his arm and he jumped. Gabriel looked solemnly at him.

"I just took a little trip to Ireland, to visit the Stone of Destiny. I got a bad feeling about it and wanted to check it hadn't been stolen." Gabriel's mouth turned down as he flopped into the chair across the table from Sam. "If only that was all it was. It's broken."

"Broken?" Sam asked, bemused. "How? Isn't this thing meant to be super powerful?"

"Yes," Gabriel said tightly. "And it seems it's been broken for a few years, according to the locals. But I swear, it was fine when we spoke in the supermarket a few weeks ago. This is something else that's changed."

"And you don't think it's a side effect, do you?" Sam asked.

Gabriel seemed pleased with Sam's deduction. He gave him a broad smile that made Sam's skin tingle. "No, Sam, I don't. I think this was a deliberate act."

"I don't get it," Sam admitted. "Amara's got Lucifer. If Lucifer did this, does that mean he's on her side now?"

Gabriel shook his head in thought. "I don't think this was my brother. Luci's many things, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't destroy something so powerful, he'd steal it. And honestly, I can't see him going over to the Darkness. Not really. He hates our Father. But he still loves him too."

"You did say you thought this might be someone else," Sam remembered. "Who do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Gabriel replied. When Sam looked skeptical, he leaned forward urgently. "I swear, Sam, if I had even the slightest clue I'd share it." Gabriel's face was close and Sam tried not to be distracted by the archangel's mouth. He leaned back to give himself space.

"OK. So, we're at square one. Let's work this like a case," Sam suggested, pulling his laptop over. Gabriel looked delighted at the prospect. He got up and settled in the chair next to Sam, his shoulder pressed against the hunter's as he focused on the screen. Sam tried not to squirm uncomfortably as his body reacted to the archangel's proximity.

"OK," he said and coughed. "Let's start with the Stone of Destiny." He typed a few search terms into Google and scanned the results.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Dean's voice said and Sam looked up. Dean was wrapped in his favorite robe, looking sleepy and a little hungover.

"There's coffee in the pot," Sam said neutrally. It was too early for a fight. Dean slouched over to the cabinet to grab a mug and Sam turned his attention back to his computer.

The first few results were news reports from 2012, detailing how somebody had taken a hammer to the stone and cracked it in several places. Another news report from 2014 described how paint had then been poured over the Stone. Sam clicked on the link and stared at the photographs, one of the Stone before the vandalism and the second after the paint attack. Supposedly the paint had been red and green, but to Sam it looked more like red and black, like old blood. He shivered as a chill went through him and Gabriel looked up with a strange look on his face.

"You OK, Sammy?" he asked gently. Sam's throat hurt at the sound. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Dean wandered over and sat opposite Sam. He eyed Gabriel for a second with a pinched expression. "What's going on?"

"The Stone of Destiny is broken," Sam said without preamble. "We think whoever did it wanted to stop us using the Treasures to defeat Amara."

"Did she do it then?" Dean asked. Sam looked back at Gabriel with a questioning air. Gabriel shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said. "Subtlety isn't exactly her strong suit. Did Sam explain to you about the time manipulations I've detected?" Dean nodded and gestured for Gabriel to continue. "Well, when I suggested we track the Treasures down, I swear the Stone was undamaged. But now, it's irreparably broken."

"So?" Dean said impatiently. "Breaking something sounds like Amara to me."

"Sure. If she'd done it now. But going back to 2012, just to smash the Stone? Why? What's the advantage of doing it four years ago?" Sam challenged and Dean rocked back in his chair.

"What?" he blurted out. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Not if it's the Darkness, no," Gabriel agreed. "Which is why I think it's someone else."

"Who else would have that kind of power," Dean asked, his voice sounding strangled. Sam cast him a curious look.

"Well, angels can time travel of course," Gabriel noted. "At least, they could. I get the impression that ability has been hampered by the Fall that followed the closing of the Gates of Heaven. But archangels can still do it."

"But there's only you and Lucifer," Sam observed. "And presumably you didn't do it. We already talked about Lucifer but he's Amara's captive right now."

"Doesn't mean he wouldn't swap sides," Dean said sullenly.

Gabriel shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Even if he was willing to join the Darkness, which I doubt, changing history is hard. Even for an archangel."

"OK, so what else can do it?" Dean shot back.

"Well, God obviously," Gabriel mused. "And the Darkness could do it, although I don't think she would. Not like this. Soul Eaters have some power over time, but not on this scale. Chronos of course, but he's dead. There's a couple of demons, Seere and Uvall, but Lucifer chained them up in Hell. Even my brother could see the potential damage they could cause. And Gremlins could control time, but only in a limited way and anyway they're extinct."

"Who's Chronos?" Dean asked.

"Greek God of Time," Sam told him. He turned back to Gabriel. "You're sure he's dead."

Gabriel twitched and looked uncomfortable. "Yes." Sam peered at him. "I'm certain, Sam. I killed him myself." It was clear the archangel did not want to talk about this.

"All right," Sam relented. "Then the two demons are probably our strongest contenders. Hell's been in turmoil for a while. Crowley's had a lot of trouble keeping a lid on things. And that's before Amara's release rocked Hell and cracked the Cage. Maybe that wasn't the only damage."

Dean slapped a hand down on the table and Sam jumped in surprise.

"That makes sense," he said. "Crowley's been well off his game. He's had to put down more than one revolution since he became King of Hell, but after Lucifer got free, who knows how much worse it got?"

Gabriel looked curiously at Dean. "You seem awfully… well informed."

"Crowley's a… " Sam started and then paused. "Uh, occasional ally?"

"Frenemy," Dean said. Sam's eyebrows rose at that. Gabriel's eyes widened suddenly and he blew out a breath.

"Well," he said, sounding uncomfortable. Sam turned his astonishment on the archangel. Nothing made Gabriel uncomfortable. The idea was bizarre. He felt that Dean's choice of word was a little strong, but then he hadn't gone on a weird road trip with the King of Hell while temporarily living as a demon. Sam turned his gaze back on his brother as the implications of that suddenly sank in. He'd spent very little time thinking about that period, for obvious reasons. He wondered if he should have questioned Dean more closely about exactly what he had been up to with the demon. Dean glared at him and Sam decided it was a topic for another day.

"So," Gabriel interjected. "We have suspects. I'll see if I can pick up any signs that Seere or Uvall have escaped. You focus on finding another way to defeat Amara."

"I might have something," Sam admitted. "Cas was researching it before-" he broke off at the look on Dean's face. "A tablet. He said there might be a Darkness tablet. And, he was following the trail of a Knight Templar, traveling through Europe just after the destruction of the order. He thought the Knight might have had the tablet and left it with this priest in France."

"That was six hundred years ago," Gabriel reminded him. "That trail's more than a little cold."

"Yeah, but it's all we've got." Sam said.

"No, it isn't," Dean said suddenly. "We know where Metatron is, and the little worm is mortal now. Let's go break a few pieces off him and see what he remembers." Sam gave him a disapproving face that he waved away.

"Well, this has been fun," Gabriel announced. "But I've got to go track down some demons." He carded a hand through Sam's hair with a wistful look on his face, and then disappeared.

Dean levelled a look at Sam, who snarled back.

"I don't know what he's doing," he said defensively. "He keeps doing stuff like this. Blowing hot and cold. It's making me crazy."

"I warned him," Dean said sourly. "I told him to stop messing you around, or I'd end him."

"Don't," Sam pleaded. "I know you're only trying to help, but I couldn't bear it if you killed him."

"I know," Dean growled. "It's the only thing stopping me, believe me."

Sam looked around the grotty apartment, his nose wrinkling at the smell.

"So you're the supervisor for this building," he said to the man who was picking through an ashtray and pulling apart the butts to scavenge tobacco.

"Yep," he said shortly. "Name's Sal."

"OK, Sal," Dean said, settling into an intimidating stance. Sal seemed unmoved. "We're looking for a guy named Marv. Last time we saw him, he was renting an apartment on the fourth floor."

"Marv?" Sal shrugged. "Doesn't sound familiar. But people come and go a lot here. It's hard to keep track."

"Maybe your memory needs a little refreshment," Sam suggested, pulling his wallet from his jeans. The man's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, could be," he agreed. Sam fished out a twenty and offered it to Sal. "Yeah, I remember now. Smallish guy, ratty looking. Horrible beard, worse breath. Yeah, he lived here for a while. But then he fell behind on his rent and you know, I'm a good guy but I'm a businessman, not a charity. When he got to three months arrears, I had to kick him out."

"Is the apartment still empty?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No," Sal said, shaking his head. "I rented it out again almost immediately. Lot of demand around here."

"Did he leave a forwarding address?"

"Nah. But I don't think he found another apartment. He was dead broke. Last I saw him, he was rooting in the dumpsters behind the Denny's two blocks from here." Sal started to roll the scavenged tobacco into a handmade cigarette. "He might be sleeping rough near there. A few homeless hang out in that area."

"Thanks," Dean said shortly and headed for the door. "If he does show up, give us a call." He tossed a card onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, sure," Sal said sourly.

The alley behind the diner showed clear evidence of use by at least one homeless person. Whether it was Metatron or someone else, there was no way to tell. Cardboard boxes piled in one corner revealed a small stack of books, a torn sleeping bag and some old newspapers.

"Books," Dean said with a gesture.

Sam grimaced. "Maybe. But unless they say 'Property of Metatron' inside, they could be anybody's."

Dean scratched at his stubble as he looked around. "You know, homeless people don't normally leave their stuff lying around. Too much danger of it getting stolen."

"You think Metatron's not streetwise enough to know that? OK. But what does it tell us about where he is?"

"Nothing," Dean agreed. "But, maybe we should stake this alley out. See if he turns up."

"OK," Sam said. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out.

Bunker. ASAP. xxx

"It's Gabriel," he told Dean. "He wants to meet back at the Bunker. Urgently."

"Fine," Dean said irritably. "Let's go."

Sam had hoped Gabriel would be waiting for them when they got back to Lebanon. But the Bunker was empty.

"Well?" Dean demanded. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Sam said, stress cracking his voice. "He said ASAP. I thought it meant he'd be here when we got back."

"I don't see any sign he's been here," Dean said, looking around. Sam nodded unhappily in agreement and pulled out his phone.

Where R U?

"I guess we wait," Dean said. "I've got stuff to do. Give me a shout if Gabriel shows up." He headed off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Sam to stare mournfully down at his phone.

Dean would no more admit it than he would cut off his own arm, but he quite liked ironing. The quiet domesticity of it brought him an odd sort of peace. Lisa had been amused and delighted when he'd taken over that chore, and astonished at how good he was at it. He didn't tell her about his memories of his mother, ironing in front of soap operas on TV with a slight smile on her face.

He took a mouthful of his beer and then looked down at the shirt he was working on. He sprinkled a little of the beer on the shirt and then took another sip. Sam walked into the room, his tablet in hand.

"Oh, perfect," Sam said, concealing a smile. "We're gonna need our suits."

"Still no sign of Gabriel?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. "Tell me you got something on Amara at least."

"Uh, it's a long shot, but the clock's ticking, right? Whatever Amara's doing to Lucifer…"

Dean frowned. "Yeah. Beating on Cas in the meantime." His voice broke alarmingly and Sam thrust his tablet into his brother's hands.

"Yeah. Uh, Hope Springs, Idaho. A guy named Wes Cooper killed himself after killing a co-worker. According to the reports, though, nobody knows why. Apparently he was a perfectly happy guy, and then... snap."

"So, what? Possession?" Dean asked.

"Or he was soulless," Sam said triumphantly.

Dean pulled a face. "It ain't much, but given what we got, I'll take it." He gave the tablet back to Sam.

"Yeah."

Dean handed him his shirt. "There you go," he said and walked away.

"Thanks." Sam's nose wrinkled at a faint odor that wafted from the still warm cotton. He sniffed at it tentatively. "Dude, quit ironing my shirts with beer!"

"We're still a few members short of the original lineup," Chuck said wearily.

"Yeah," Lucifer interjected. "First time, it took the combined strength of me and my brothers to weaken Amara before…"

"Daddy-o finished her off." Dean said.

"Yeah, even then, it was close."

"No, with just the two of us, we'll lose," Chuck agreed.

"Okay, so, what, we'll need more group therapy between you and the archangels if we want to have a shot?"

"Well, Michael's in no condition to fight," Chuck said sadly. "And it's outside of my power to bring Gabriel and Raphael back." Dean exchanged a look with Sam.

"Gabriel's not dead," he said. Chuck gaped at him.

"Yes, he is," he insisted.

"I killed him myself," Lucifer said airily. "I think I'd know."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," Dean said. "But Gabriel's alive. We've seen him."

"After you uh, fought him, he got bounced into Purgatory," Sam added. Lucifer and Chuck stared at the Winchesters, then exchanged a glance.

"It's impossible," Lucifer insisted.

Chuck shook his head. "It's strange, certainly," he admitted. "But Gabriel has been able to hide from me before."

"OK, fine," Lucifer sulked. "So where is he?"

"We don't know," Sam confessed, a pain stabbing through his chest and making it hard to breathe. "He texted a few days ago, saying he'd meet us at the Bunker. And then nothing."

"Well, if he's AWOL, he's not worth considering," Lucifer said dismissively.

"Well, anyway, why can't you resurrect Raphael? I mean, he was a huge dick. But if we need firepower. And you restored Castiel," Dean objected.

"Archangels are different. They're the stuff of primordial creation," Check explained. "Rebuilding them, it's - it's time we don't have." Lucifer cast a strange look at Chuck, Sam noticed, but said nothing.

"All right. So what do you need to win?" Dean challenged. "What do we bring to the table to make up for archangel power?"

"We could try and find more Hands of God." Sam suggested.

"A little redundant," Lucifer said snidely.

"Well, what about Crowley? Big demon power, former king of Hell. He was a player in his day." Dean suggested.

"We have the angels too," Sam added.

"And Rowena. I mean, she's a snake, but she's a powerful witch. And she's got the Book of the Damned."

It was desperate, Sam thought. But these were desperate times.

"Goodbye, nephew," Amara said coldly. Lucifer jerked and cried out, then slumped back against the wall.

"Cas!" Dean cried.

"I'd die a million times and murder you a million more before going back there! Tell me... if you won't change, why should I?" Amara continued, her eyes focused now on her brother.

"Amara, no!" Dean yelled. But he was powerless to stop Amara hitting Chuck with all of her power. He could feel it, slithering over his nerve endings and burning out his senses. He grunted in pain.

"Sorry, brother," Amara said, not sound sorry at all as Chuck's body thumped back down on the ground.

"No. Amara, what have you done? He's dead. God's dead," Dean whispered.

"No," Amara said callously. "He's dying."

Dean could hear Chuck gasping faintly.

"My brother will dim... and fade away into nothing. But not until he sees what comes next. Not until he watches this world, everything he created, everything he loves turn to ash." And then she was gone.

Sam struggled to his feet and lurched over to Chuck, who was lying on the floor and twitching. Dean was staring almost blindly at him.

"Check on him," Dean ordered, waving a hand towards Chuck, and then he staggered over to the unconscious body of Lucifer. He approached warily, not wanting to get too close. But he was still. Dean poked at him carefully, and then shook the body more vigorously when he didn't respond.

"Lucifer?" he said urgently. "Come on, you son of a bitch." There was no response. "Cas? Are you in there?" Cas!

"Dean!" Sam called out and Dean turned, tears burning the back of his eyes. He looked back at Cas's body and then shuffled back over to Sam and Chuck.

"Dean," Chuck said weakly. "I'm sorry. Castiel is gone. Lucifer too."

"Gone?" Dean said dazedly. "What do you mean, gone?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. Amara pulled them both out of Castiel's vessel. She probably consumed them." Dean's head was spinning.

"Dean?" Sam said, but his voice sounded far away. There was a strange sensation, like he was falling, and then pain as his cheek struck the floor. He was lying on the floor. His head felt gray and fuzzy. He could hear someone calling his name, but it seemed faint and unimportant. Cas was gone. It was over, and they'd lost.

Dean.

Amara had said Chuck would have to watch everything he loved turn to ash. Dean thought his world had already turned to ash. Cas was dead, and Sam would soon follow once the Darkness consumed the world.

Dean!

There was no more hope left. All their fighting, everything they'd sacrificed and it was ultimately for nothing.

DEAN!

Leave me alone, he thought. Let me die, here and now.

We can fix this, Dean. That voice was familiar. Like bones scraped on stone. Tenebrae? We can go back. Change the past, stop any of this from happening.

A small sliver of hope began to worm its way into his heart. Are you sure this will work?

Yes, yes. Tenebrae sounded impatient. But we don't have much time.

OK, Dean said. I've got nothing left to lose. You win. Let's do this.

Excellent. Tenebrae said, sounding satisfied. There was a flash of white light.

So we're going back to before Metatron closed the Gates of Heaven, right? Dean asked suddenly.

Yes.

And Sam and I will retain our memories. Cas too if you can swing it. He wanted to be sure Tenebrae remembered this promise.

I can't promise it will work. Tenebrae's voice was like a chill wind.

You said that before. It's OK. Just do your best. Dean assured it. This had to work. He hoped this entity, whatever it was, could really pull off what he promised.

Oh, I will.

And everything went black.