The sequel to Sam and the Librarian. Dean's not going to hell (for now), Ruby is dead, and Sam has a girlfriend. Will the Winchesters and their new allies avert the apocalypse without giant sacrifices? And if there's no righteous man to rescue, will we still meet everyone's favorite angel?

Heads up. The POV is going to change in this story more than once. Please yell at me (figuratively) if I change it but include the wrong person's thoughts. And of course, just because I said that here's B again.

Ha! I'm first in my kitchen! As much as I hate leaving Sam's arms, he's both clingy and warm. The boys seem enamored of a sweet breakfast, but I'm a savory girl so I get out the eggs and everything I think can conceivably go in an omelet or scramble. I chop and shred for twenty minutes without a peep from the guys. Just as I'm about to toss veggies in the pan to sauté, the stairs creak under a heavy tread, and Sam stumbles into the kitchen.

"B! There you are! You keep sneaking out on me." He's beside me in an instant and I'm off my feet and on the counter in another. "I hate waking up without you." He whispers before covering my mouth with his.

When he lets me up for air I laugh, "You've only woken up with me for a few days."

"Exactly. It's a vast improvement over waking up without you." He starts kissing his way down to my chest.

"You horndog!" I close my eyes, trying to stay composed while losing myself in whatever he is doing to my neck. "Sam, come on! D-D-De-fuck I can't even…your brother could walk in any minute!"

"That's true," Says an amused voice from the other side of the table. "And, oh man, the teasing that's going to fill this day…" Dean waggles his eyebrows at me. His smile is so big it's almost unhinged.

Sam jumps back so fast he bangs into the table and nearly shoves my head into the cupboard. His hands sink into the neat piles of omelet filling and crush most of them into paste. Scooping up handfuls of veggies, he spins on his heel and flings the mess at Dean. One mass hits him in the center of his chest, and the other splatters across his face.

"Oh you asshole!" Dean dives in and flings two eggs at Sam, followed by a bowl of chopped tomato. In Winchester-speak, calling each other asshole must translate to 'Game On!', because they both flip into overdrive. Vegetables, cheese, raw eggs, ketchup, and tabasco gain the power of flight as the brothers hurl edible missiles at each other.

I'm caught by misses or near-misses before I can scoot out of the way. Surprise and the unadulterated joy on their faces stops me from calling out until one of them picks up a bowl of banana peppers.

"Dean, stop!" I shout. They both freeze. "My aunt gave me that bowl. It's an antique!"

He sets the bowl on the table as though it's a newborn kitten. "Sorry B." A piece of tomato slides down his forehead, slaloms down his nose, catches a bit of air, and bounces twice before coming to land in a puddle of olive oil.

I drop down off the counter and my sock-covered feet make a loud, disgusting squelching noise. For a moment it's silent except for a steady dripping noise from a bottle that got knocked over. Then Sam turns and tries to take a step towards me, but he slips, his feet fly out from under him, and there's a tremendous 'Splat!'. The impact of his ass with the floor shakes the house.

They look at me with twin expressions of fearful hilarity, and a giggle slips out before I can stop it. That's the spark that sets off the dynamite as we dissolve into laughter.

Dean's phone rings before we're done cleaning up the mess. I'm standing on the counter to get the top of the cabinets, because I can't fall for a normal-sized gorgeous monster hunter, it has to be the guy who makes his huge brother look short. Dean taps the receive button and speaker buttons with the tip of his left pinky finger, because that's the finger that's least sticky. "Hey Bobby, how's it hangin'?"

"To the right, and you?"

"I'm good, just cleaning up the kitchen."

"While I'm pleased you're doing your chores, Helena and I have been waiting for you kids for a while now."

I call out from where I'm getting Dean-pureed-tomato off of the cupboards. "It's Sunday morning! I get that time is of the essence, but shouldn't we be able to sleep in one day a week?"

"Yeah, I'm always ready for more research, but we won big yesterday. How much difference is a couple of hours going to make on a 50-year-old murder case?" Sam adds.

There's a pause from the other end of the line, then Mrs. S chimes in, "Do I need to remind all of you that neither Lilith, nor her minions need to sleep?"

I grit my teeth. In the last 48 hours I've come to love my boss, but I'd forgotten why I used to hate her sometimes. "Fine. We've got to finish cleaning up, stop and get food, and then we'll be there."

"What more food do you need?" Bobby asks. "I thought you said you were cleaning the kitchen. Didn't you have breakfast?"

"No, there was something of a mishap." Before they can ask about it, Dean cleverly deflects. "By the way, how did the two of you get there early enough to have been waiting 'a long time' for the three of us? It's not even eight o'clock yet." He narrows his eyes at the phone. "Did you skip breakfast?"

His scandalized tone makes me snicker. Somehow, the ghost-hunting reincarnation of Steve McQueen, has a 'dad mode' that comes out at the oddest moments. I look at Sam who grins and winks at me. While Bobby and Dean trade insults, Sam lifts me down from the counter. My survey of the room finds no traces of Winchester mayhem, so I grab the guys' rags and throw them and mine in the sink.

"Alright, enough!" Dean shouts, elbowing me out of the way to wash his hands. "We'll get ready and be over there in 30!" He hangs up the phone and looks at us. "I'm guessing you'll take the longest to get ready, B, so you get first shower. I'll go last."

"How are we all three going to shower, get breakfast, and get to the library in 30 minutes?" I put my hands on my hips.

Dean opens his mouth, then looks at my hair and grimaces. "We'll be late."

Living near a college campus has its advantages. The breakfast burrito place is open and makes lovely morning food art.

"Hey Stevie, I'll have my usual with a side of pineapple and mango, a bucket of your excellent coffee, and a plain jane omelet with a side of home fries."

"Cool." Stevie nods her head making her shrunken head earrings rock and the beads on her turquoise and maroon braids click soothingly. "What about tall and taller here?" She waves her pencil at them.

"You can make suggestions, but no beans for either of them. I'm going to be in an enclosed space with both of them most of the day. Neither can handle the frijoles." Sam makes his bitch-face but Dean nods. "You guys' order something for Bobby since I know they didn't eat much breakfast." I grab my ginormous coffee and wait on the to-go bench I often use.

When Sam joins me a few minutes later, the same size coffee looks like a regular cup in his hands. "You don't have to share my gastric issues with strangers."

"Yes I do. If I just told them no beans for you guys the cook would ignore me and you and Dean would asphyxiate me sometime around noon. This way Stevie will tell him it's a religious thing or an allergy and he'll respect that." I look at him for a moment and then lean up to kiss him just because I can. "Besides, after what you did to my kitchen, dealing with a little embarrassment is not even half what you owe me."

"Fair point."

We reach the library just ten minutes past Dean's estimated time of arrival. Laden down with food, we find Mrs. S and Bobby in deep discussion over the mess they've made of the white board. All twelve feet is covered with papers, photos, lists, and drawings, and most of them are connected to each other with lines in red pen.

The first words out of Sam's mouth aren't about food or to ask how early they got here, but to critique their work. "That's missing a timeline, you know." If we weren't all so deadly serious I'd laugh.

"Your arm ain't broke." Bobby looks up and gestures with his breakfast sandwich. "We left you plenty of space."

Sam nods and makes his smile/frown face before going to the board and drawing a surprisingly straight black line all the way across the top of the board. He goes back to the beginning, draws a line perpendicular to the timeline and starts to write something down. "What event should I start with? Do we need to go back to God locking Lucifer away?"

"Yeah, just to be safe." I put out Sam's food and take a sip of my coffee. "Come eat, we'll do that after."

"Ok Mom." Sam agrees. He finishes his note and adds another event marker.

Dean, who is already done with his food, refills his coffee and takes Sam's place. "Revelations should be our next marker huh?" He glances around but Mrs. S shakes her head.

"Add Lucifer turning Lilith before the cage." Dean nods in realization and writes it down. He writes 'Revelation' on the next marker, then turns to see what we think he should put next.

"Wait a minute, this is way too detailed." I wash down a bite with coffee. "We need to focus on the MoL, not the overarching storyline."

Sam shakes his head. "We need to determine just what we're up against. That means making a list and checking things off."

"I get that. You've gotta have enough information before you can ask a question."

He gestures to the board, "So, then we need to build the timeline to determine who else might come after us besides Lilith." He says this in a tone that implies that he shouldn't have to explain this to me, with a thin-lipped expression to back it up. I straighten and all my muscles go ridged.

That shit doesn't stand with me.

"If you want to continue to get into my pants on a regular basis, Sam Winchester, you don't imply that I'm stupid, and you don't do it in front of other people."

"That's not what I-"

Bobby clears his throat and gives Sam a hard look with one eye almost closed. Sam shuts his mouth and looks between us. We have successfully derailed his mental train.

"I believe B is trying to say that we should focus on the task at hand." Mrs. S nods to me. "Mr. Singer and I are getting lost in the details."

I nod to her then look back at Sam. "Of course we need to determine who else is going to come gunning for us, but until we get access to the MoL's collection, we can't determine who our enemies are, much less how to fight them."

"Fine." Sam says. Wonderful. I embarrassed him back. How mature of me.

Dean swoops in and saves us from further sniping, "Hey, look, no matter the immediate concerns, we still need a timeline to follow. "We can always add something when we have more information, or scratch something off if doesn't really matter."

I throw him an apologetic and thankful smile, and sit. Beside me, Sam sits too.

When the timeline is finished we take a break. I head for the downstairs office, thinking Sam will follow, but it's Dean who sits on Mrs. S's desk to watch me get out my big notebook and favorite pen.

"Pulling out the full-on-max nerd equipment for the rest of the research huh?" He grins at me around his coffee.

"Are you always this irritatingly cute?"

His grin threatens to split his face. "Yep, it's a gift."

"And an excellent defense mechanism?" I raise an eyebrow.

He nods. "Developed it early to pull Dad out of depression, and then to keep him and Sam from killing each other."

"I bet you had to do that a lot."

"After Sam turned 15 it was every fuckin' day." He looks down at the desk he's on, and then over at mine. Holding up his mug he says, "I don't suppose you have any, uh, flavoring hidden away in one of these desks do you?"

I scoff. "Around flammable books? Not bloody likely."

"Huh," Dean smile/frowns, "First time I've ever heard a really good, non-prudish reason not to have booze at work."

"Tell me that's not the reason you followed me in here."

"Nope, I'm making sure you understand where Sam was coming from this morning."

"Not a clue, but whatever it was, I totally over-reacted. I was hoping he'd follow me in here so I could apologize."

Dean relaxes. His shoulders loosen, his smile becomes easy. "You surprised him is all."

"How?"

"Sam's a big picture kind of guy. Dad and I, and to be fair, most other hunters, tend to do as little research as possible and just jump in with both feet, guns blazing."

"So I suppose most of you die young huh?

"Generally speaking, yeah. Not Sam though, he wants us all to survive to be 90."

"It's good to have lofty goals."

"True." Dean picks up his mug and finishes off his coffee; shivering and making a yuck face over the dregs. I motion for him to follow me and head for the coffee machine. He continues as we walk. "It's not just a fantasy goal for Sam, he's terrified that he'll miss something and get people killed."

I get out my secret stash of good coffee and start up a fresh pot. "That's ridiculous. He can research all he wants, but if the other hunters don't wait, that's on them."

"Yeah, and I've been telling him that for ten years, but a part of him is always going to be the 14-year-old kid waiting at the library or motel for Dad and me not to come back."

"Of course he is. Jesus I'm stupid."

He chuckles. "No you're not. You're a female academic whose opinion gets overlooked most of the time."

My mouth falls open, and I freeze in the act of putting the coffee away. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I was the research assistant long before Sam took over the job. Lost count of the number of male librarians I've watched talk over the female ones who actually know what they're talking about." He shrugs. "Librarians get overlooked, so you get the shy ones who love books, the lazy asses who can stand around and spout nonsense because the rest of the university could give a shit about the library, and the ones like you who are passionate about their job. You make yourself look quiet and boring while hiding the fact that you know every book in this library and what it contains." He turns off the machine and pulls out the pot, while ignoring my open-mouthed stare. "Come on, let's get back before they think we've run away together."

"I think I love you, Dean."

"The feelings mutual, little sister."

When we get back to the room Sam and Bobby are just finishing placing an easel with a giant notepad at one end of the room. Mrs. S moves to the side of the table so she doesn't have to do a 180 turn to see the pages. She looks at Dean. "Will you take notes Mr. Winchester?"

He takes the marker from her hand, "Uh, yes Ma'am." He winks at me. I'm not the only smart person who gets overlooked.

Sam sits beside me like before, sneaking quick glances at me. Without a word, I lay my left hand on the table palm up. He gives me another big-eyed glance before he scoots his chair close to mine, takes my hand, tucks it into the crook of his elbow, and rests his arm on the table so said elbow holds my notepad in place.

I write at the top of my notepad, "I'm Sorry."

He takes my pen with his left hand, underlines the sentence, and draws an arrow under it pointing to himself. When he looks at me I squeeze his hand and flip the notebook to a fresh page.

"So you never visited the building where this fire took place?"

Mrs. S shakes her head. She looks away from us, and I realize she's trying not to cry. Wow. "No, by the time I found out he was dead, a whole week had gone by. He planned to stay for a few days, and it was the week before the summer quarter finals, so the library was packed with students." She straightens her collar, sniffs, and turns back to face us again. "He often forgot to call when he went on a trip, so I didn't worry for three days. Then I waited another day, and then I called the emergency number, but no one answered. Finally, I called the police."

"Besides your father, do any of the names in the article ring a bell? Could we find family to talk to?" Bobby's starting to look worried, like this will all be a dead end.

"Oh yes, Albert Magnus. That's a MoL's alias." She smiles around at all of us like that should mean something.

"And that's helpful because…?" Dean asks.

"Albus Magnus was a blank century magician. Probably one of the founding members of the MoL's, and an alias used in case of emergency to lead members to clues. Since my father never returned, and his name, Ted Bowen, is in the article, I didn't investigate further. I didn't know anyone else in the MoL's, or any hunters, so I had no one to help me, and no one I could help." She looks at each of us in turn, "Now I have help, and people this knowledge will benefit."

Sam stands up and paces to the door then back. "So, going to the building won't do any good. This happened fifty years ago, but there would still have been an investigation, so we should look for the police report-"

"-And those names appear in the article, so that means the cops knew those men died, that means there were probably bodies to bury." He turns to Mrs. S, "Did they send your dad's body home for you to bury?"

"No, they said they couldn't identify him, someone who knew everyone who was there gave them the names."

I nod. "One of them did survive, and knows what happened."

"And they were all buried at the same time, so they're probably all buried in the same cemetery."

Dean puts down the pen he was supposed to be taking notes with. "Right. Bobby, you, B, and Mrs. S get on the phone, talk to the police to get the report, and find out which cemetery the bodies were buried in. Sam and I will go to Normal. By the time we get there, you guys will know where we have to dig."

"You're not going without me." I want to take the words back as soon as they're out of my mouth, but I don't.

My words are greeted with silence. The guys don't want to take me along, but after this morning, they don't want to fight with me either, so we're at an impasse.

Bobby steps into the breach. "As much as I don't want to send a civilian, no offense B, I think you boys are going to need her along." He holds up a hand and begins ticking off points. "Neither of you can hunt right now. That doesn't include gravedigging, but if something attacks, it would be wise to have someone besides either of you holding the shotgun."

Before he makes his next point, Dean buts in. "Then we should take you along, Bobby." He looks at me, "Have you even held a gun?"

I smile, "My dad's a Marine drill instructor, what's your best guess on that?"

His eyes go wide, and I catch Sam smiling out of the corner of my eye. "Ok, you are just full of surprises."

Bobby steps back in, "Good, now that we have that covered, I'll stay here with Helena and protect her and the library."

"Mr. Singer, as I've told you all before, I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself. I've been doing so for a long time."

"With all due respect, your house and this library might be warded to the gills, and I'm sure you've got magic on your person, but demons are mostly stupid."

"Why does that mean I need more protection?"

"Lilith is going to complain about not getting Dean's soul. Overnight, all the demons she had out there looking for Sam and Dean are at loose ends. All the ones gunning for Ruby to make a name for themselves suddenly have nothing to do. Give it a couple more days and there will be a thousand rumors flying around. The chances that a demon will attack any of us just to gets some answers, or make points with Lilith, go up every day."

Wow. Be careful what you wish for. I wanted to go along because I didn't feel safe alone, or be separated from Sam if I didn't have to be, but I never thought I'd go along to be the muscle.

The fucking mind-reader sitting next to me whispers, "Bet you didn't see that one coming."