It's different than the last time… but Cas couldn't even begin to describe how.

This time the mark isn't in control of Dean. He thought. The difference was vast.

Cas shuddered as his back pushed against the cold tiles where Dean cornered him out of the hot water. He felt his wings shift just close enough to physically existing to feel the graze of his feathers pulling through the wall behind them.

That was different too. He was not restrained this time. There were no wards holding his grace hostage. The feeling was almost staggering. He could sense every single millimeter of contact between them.

Cas tensed at the last moment, just barely avoiding cracking into the tiles with his shoulders. He was not going to break anything. He slipped slightly on the worn wet shower floor. That might be unavoidable.

Dean raked his fingers roughly through Cas' hair, using it as leverage to pull Cas back to his lips while he rinsed a few stray splatters of mud. He sucked in a deep breath as Cas slipped his hand below his waist. He bit down.

By the time Cas' shoulder did crack the tile, he was well beyond caring.

Dean let the water run cold before he shut it off, pulling Cas with him, barely drying themselves off before moving them back out into the room to pick up where they left off.

Dean didn't move away as they caught their breath after. He watched Cas relax entirely, his mind wandering back to the cabin. He wished he could have watched Cas' expression after the hotel…

He studied Cas closely, taking in every detail, combing over every inch of him before focusing on his face, half silhouetted by a lamp on the side table. "You look older now." Dean said passively. "Than you did when I met you, I mean."

Cas raised his brow.

"I thought angels didn't age."

"I've spent a fair amount of time with very depleted grace." Cas pointed out. "After I rebelled, after the Leviathan, purgatory, my time almost human…"

"That's true." Dean said. "I didn't think about that."

Cas sighed. "But there have been times where I just did not allocate my grace to preventing aging even when I could have probably spared some."

"Why?"

"It didn't seem important." Cas admitted. "Honestly, it didn't really occur to me to do so. It's funny… I've been around for millenia, but you and Sam age… it just sort of felt more natural to fit in."

"I don't age anymore."

"That is true. At least for now."

"At least for now." Dean agreed. "Hope you like what you see, it's gonna be around for forever."

"I do." Cas said with a small grin.

"Good." Dean said, reaching over and pulling Cas in for a kiss. He pushed up off the bed, speaking over his shoulder as he disappeared into the small bathroom for a second. "If we ever do this when I'm human, you're going to break me in half."

"I'll try to restrain myself." Cas replied.

Dean walked back out, tossing a clean towel onto Cas' chest. He began to pull the comforter off, waiting for Cas to roll and accommodate him. He tossed it off the foot of the bed before springing his pillow up and laying on his side.

Cas stretched out on his stomach, his knee just brushing Dean's. He felt the pleasant chill of the air settle over them and hummed a soft sigh as Dean's hand stroked up and down his spine.

"I kinda wish I could see what you look like. Like, you you, without the vessel."

Cas shifted to expose more of his back to him. "It'd burn through you in an instant."

"Yeah, but I'm immortal…"

"How long do you think it would take for a knight of hell to pull together every shredded cell back into something resembling a human form?"

Dean frowned. "I don't know."

"Neither do I, but I do not think you would enjoy finding out."

Dean sighed, flopping back down and grumbling a half agreement. He looked up, catching the glint of a shadow out of the corner of his eyes and forcing himself to focus up at the full silhouette. "When I touch your back, do you feel it in your wings?"

Cas gave a half shrug. "Sort of. More… relaxing extends to them. If that makes sense."

"Not really."

"It feels nice when you touch my back."

"Got it." Dean smiled.

Cas turned slightly, studying the tattoo running from Dean's elbow up and over his shoulder. "It's still healing." He observed.

Dean's expression flattened a little. "Figures, the one thing I'd have to heal normally."

Cas frowned. "It is more healed than it would be."

"Yeah, I guess." Dean lamented, still feeling put out. He slid a little closer, leg now fully leaning on Cas. "Movie?"

"Mmh." Cas agreed, reluctantly pulling himself over and positioning himself to be able to see as Dean dragged his computer up onto the bed. "Only if I can pick."

"No chance."

.

They were half way through The Terminator when Dean snapped his head up, met unexpectedly with a room besides the motel. He scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of anything. "Cas?" No response.

It had been a long time.

Dean crossed the small room, reaching a hand out and brushing it down iron shackles on a mechanical table. He shuddered, his eyes flicking black. This was his rack… those were his tools…

"You've been here before."

Dean whipped around, finding the Darkness standing in the center of the room.

"This… is significant to you."

"I spent a decade working in this room." Dean said simply.

"Hell." She said, taking a step closer. "Another prison my brother constructed."

"Some people like it down here."

She tilted her head. "Did you?"

"I did."

She studied him for a moment. "You were ashamed of that fact."

"No." Dean said easily, frowning and looking past her. "I was ashamed that I was still proud of my work here."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes." He gave a half shrug. "But what can you do?" He pulled up a grin.

"Morality seems arbitrary at best… Do you still feel shame?"

"No." Dean replied. He looked her over.

"You have questions for me."

"Just a few." Dean said, focusing up. "Let's start with, who are you? Do you even have a name?"

"I have been given a name."

"What, the Destroyer or som-"

"Amara."

Dean blinked, not quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. "Did you make all those people go crazy?"

"Do you care?"

"I want to know."

"You are fascinating." She mused, ignoring his question and watching Dean shudder, his eyes turning black. She ran her hands across the slab next to him, her fingers feeling over each bolt and strap along the edge. "You should mean nothing, and yet…" She trailed off. "There is a connection."

"Great." Dean said, failing to shrug it off. "You want to tell me why we are here?"

"I like it here. With you."

"No, I mean why here exactly?" He gestured around them.

"I did not bring us here, Dean. You did."

"Fine." He said, deciding to examine that later. "Where are you now, really?"

She stepped back, ignoring that question as well. "Explain to me this. You are a demon, and yet you are beholden to an angel and a human."

"I'm not beholden to anyone." Dean said flatly.

"I stand corrected."

Dean hesitated, trying to figure out exactly how he felt. "They're my family."

"And that is enough?"

"It's supposed to be."

"And is it?"

"Dean?" That voice wasn't hers, it was filtering in from somewhere he couldn't quite source. He turned around, half expecting his rack to be strapped with another waiting soul. He didn't do that anymore. He had to remember that. "Dean?"

Dean blinked a few times, eyes finally focusing on Cas who was now half sitting up, hand on his shoulder, back safely in the motel room. "What?" He asked.

Cas' brows furrowed as he studied the demon. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just spacing out." Dean dismissed, sitting up and rearranging the pillow before leaning against the headboard. He lifted his arm and looked at the angel pointedly, inviting him to move to his side.

Cas hesitated, but finally he accepted, moving back and leaning against Dean, settling back and letting him resume the movie on his laptop.

Dean was still trying to fully shake off thoughts of hell through sunrise.

.

Dean stepped aside as the coroner pulled a tray out of the morgue. He watched the body bag get zipped open and pulled back to reveal the corpse within. "And you said you have twelve others, all the same?" He asked, voice muffled by the pointless respirator the staff had insisted he wore.

"Yep." He pulled a clipboard off the end, handing it to Dean. "That's just here. Final total looks like about four fifty, maybe a few more."

Cas tilted his head. "Where are the rest?"

"Mostly split between fifteen morgues, this county and next. Got a couple dozen in hospitals too. CDC cleared them all, says they're safe to handle, but we're not taking any chances." He tapped his own respirator, dislodging it just enough to immediately fog up his face shield. "Most of the families have signed release forms to have the bodies cremated, as they were strongly advised to do."

Dean slid on a glove before tilting up the chin to observe the neck. "How strongly we talking?"

The coroner spread his hand. "The kind of strongly that comes along when a gas leak brings in a couple hundred stiffs full of military grade lead."

"Got it."

"Some of the kid soldiers the state dropped on them are over at Wayne County Hospital. Awful shook up by the sound of it."

"We're on our way over there next."

"Alright." The Doctor tapped the wall. "Drawers three through fifteen. You holler if you need somethin'."

"Thank you." Cas said, watching him go before he reached up and removed his mask and face shield.

Dean did the same, keeping the glove on just to avoid having to touch them. "They look gnarly." Black streaks up the neck. "Don't smell any sulfur…"

"No…" Cas said, turning the head and examining the streaks more closely. "They are for the most part perfectly healthy." He opened her eyes and noted the visible blood vessels. "Whatever it was, it infected her brain."

"How we talking?"

Cas frowned, correcting her head and taking a step back. "It is not entirely dissimilar from Croatoan."

"What?"

"At least in terms of the damage it caused to the brain and other organs. I would expect symptomatically they would present in a somewhat similar fashion."

"Great, so what, we have the next coming of the croatoan apocalypse? I looked in on that timeline, and it is not fun."

Cas frowned, zipping up the body bag. "I don't think it'll be quite like that."

"What makes you say that?"

"Croatoan was a manufactured virus, carefully perfected and hand delivered by pestilence." He took a few steps to the side, pulling out another drawer and opening the bag. "These people were infected as a byproduct of her release…"

"How can you tell she didn't set these people on purpose?"

"They were stopped." Cas said. "If she intended for them to go on, I'd imagine she'd have infected enough that they wouldn't be so easily contained."

"Unless she ran out of juice, and we're about to see a part two."

"Perhaps." Cas said at last.

"What does it matter?"

Cas zipped up that bag as well, seemingly satisfied with his observations. "Croatoan was eventually fatal. The assault to the brain would eventually burn through the cerebral cortex and the subject would die."

"Yeah, and until then, they wanted to mix their blood with as many poor bastards as they could get their hands on."

Cas nodded. "Yes. While the subjects eventually regressed to an almost rabid and mindless violent state, in the early stages of the disease they are fairly in control of their actions. Enough to work to fulfill their purpose of spreading the disease. However, given how quickly these people were killed, and how much damage there already is to the brain, the symptoms would have been progressing more rapidly."

"So they'd stop being effective at spreading it sooner." Dean finished, catching up.

"I imagine we will be able to confirm their behavioral patterns by talking to one of the soldiers at the hospital."

"Yeah, alright. Let's move."

.

Dean took lead, following the directions given by the charge nurse and finding room 614. He gave a half knock on the door before entering. "Private Cohen?"

The woman in the bed couldn't be more than 19 years old. She shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Yes."

"Hi. I'm Special agent Mosley, and this is special agent Moscone, CID. We have to ask you a few questions." Dean flashed a badge for just a moment before pocketing it again.

Private Cohen's distress only intensified, but she managed a nod. "Yes sir."

"Can you walk us through yesterday?"

"What part?"

"Run me through everything. Let's start when you got orders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, noticeably paling, but she gave another nod. "A couple of officers were talking about a freak storm or something that the radar team had picked up. Around 0830 all their radios were going off." She ran her uninjured hand across the top edge of the blanket.

"I ended up driving a jeep while Colonel Johnston was on the radio. We were, uh, first to arrive. We were up by some tiny shopping plaza… we pulled around a building and there…" She stopped, closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath.

Dean resisted the urge to cross his arms. "Take your time."

"Sorry…" She cleared her throat, looking up. "There was, uh, a bus on the road. Maybe ten people on the bus, and another six around it… but uh… half the people were trying to defend themselves and half…" She closed her eyes again. "They were tearing them to shreds. One of them had a tire iron right… uh, half way through a guy's head but he was still hitting him. One of the… there was another man… his head was off. It was like they were rabid…"

"You said half of them seemed normal?"

"Yeah… the others had these black streaks up the side of their neck. They were so violent. The rest didn't, but they didn't stand a chance."

"And your colonel called it in?"

"Yeah. Others were reaching other parts of the city, the 911 operators were telling them where to go as they got calls, I guess. And they all… the things you heard over the radio were…"

Cas stepped up next to Dean. "What happened next?"

"As soon as they noticed us they were walking up to us… we… Colonel Johnston warned them twice, but we had to open fire." She bowed her head. "I'm sorry I don't know exactly how many."

"It's okay." Cas said.

Dean nodded down towards her wrapped hand. "How did that happen?"

"The bus was blocking the road, so we had to continue on foot. Colonel Johnston and I got separated. I was trying to find my way back to the jeep but a group of people, looked like they maybe they worked in an office… they saw me. I got cornered on a bridge… I jumped into the creek. The water was pretty rough but not very deep. There were a lot of rocks. I washed up downstream, ended up bumping into a different patrol.

"We cleared out another dozen or so streets. Not all of them we had to shoot. Some of them seemed to just sort of shudder and then drop. They would writhe for a little bit before they just went still. It was like they just burnt out, and died.

"It was maybe another five hours before uh… she was a private but I don't remember her name. She got an axe through her thigh. We got a tourniquet on her, but we had to get out of there… We didn't manage to save anyone."

Dean leaned back. "So you got to the hospital then?"

"Yeah. We got here and by the time they were done setting the bones in my arm, they said it was over." She shook her head. "I don't know if colonel Johnston made it."

"No idea." Dean said dismissively, earning a bit of a glare from Cas. He brushed it off.

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

"By all means."

"Whatever that gas leak was, it was made in a lab. It has to have been."

"Noted." Dean said. He looked up at Cas. "Unless you have any questions, we'll be on our way."

Cas looked back at her. "Thank you."

Private Cohen gave a distracted nod, focusing back down at her hand.

Dean put a hand on Cas' shoulder, heading out of the room. In the hallway he talked to Cas quietly as they made their way back out towards the car. "I think you're right on it going much faster."

"That is likely why the national guard were able to contain the spread."

"You really think this is an isolated event?"

Cas frowned. "Yes… but I would not rule out it happening again."

"Great."

"We should go back to the motel and tell Sam." Cas said.

"Yeah, fine."

.

"And you're sure they got all of them?" Sam's voice came through the phone that had been tossed on the table.

"Well the Guard stood down." Dean said. "Given how freaked they all were, I don't think they'd do that without being absolutely sure."

Sam sighed. "Question is how long before that happens again."

"If it does." Cas said. "It may still just be a byproduct of her being set free."

"Let's hope."

Dean sat down on the bed, spreading his hands. "I don't think there's much use hanging around any longer."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "You're probably right."

"So, you got anything else for us?"

"Maybe." Sam said, pulling over his laptop. "Got an article out of east Texas. Sounds like it might be our kind of deal. Sixteen year old girl claimed she saw her uncle kill her dad."

"And?"

"Her uncle has been dead for five years."

"Ah." Dean nodded. "Yeah, it sounds like our kind of thing." He agreed. He looked up at Cas and grinned. "Guess we're heading to Texas."