A/N: For those of you getting a very overdue notification about a new chapter, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update. My life kind of fell apart so updating this story fell to the bottom of my priorities. I'm glad to be getting back into it though, and I hope you all are too. I'm sure this chapter will be a little out of place as I try to get back into the swing of things; please bear with me. Nevertheless, as always, I hope it's worth your time.

This chapter takes place hours after the last scene.

It was nearly four in the morning and Dean sat on a bench by a vending machine, staring at the lights of the passing cars. Some people counted stars, stared at clouds… any kind of calming mechanism that helped solidify their place in the multitude of the universe. But Dean Winchester didn't count stars or watch clouds— he didn't need a cosmic force to remind him of his place. No, Dean found his faith in people. In all of the people, in their cars driving by. Dozens of headlight flashes reminding him how many people sat in those cars, how many people that he, one day, might save. How many people that might, one day, save him. People like Sam, like Jody, like Donna or Charlie or Garth. People like Bobby. Like Nikki.

A loud mix of voices emanated suddenly from behind a nearby door; an argument. It progressed rapidly, noises growing louder. The muted sound crescendoed into clear ringing as the motel door was opened briefly. A young boy, no more than twelve (maybe even ten), slipped out quickly. The Winchester sitting and observing hadn't heard this kid's name, didn't know where he came from, how old he was, or what he was doing here. But Dean knew this boy. He had been this boy. The kid paced outside the door for a minute, staring at his shoes, and then looked up. He noticed the tempting vending machine long before he noticed Dean sitting next to it. Approaching, hand in pocket, the boy startled a bit when he noticed the man sitting on the bench. In a silent offering of peace, Dean clumsily pulled a crumpled wad of cash from his pocket. He held out his hand, extending it to the boy. Wordlessly, the boy took it, and fed it into the machine. Just as the items were falling into the basket, another shout echoed from his room. The boy recovered quickly and retrieved his items. Pulling two candy bars from the bin, he looked back at Dean and extended the chocolate.

"Thanks, mister" His voice was thin. Dean gave a slight grin and looked at the candy bar.

"G-good ch'oice."

"Dad doesn't like 'em." The boy spoke matter of factly, as if Dean was supposed to understand the subtext. Of course, by happenstance, he did.

"D'oesn't m-mean you c-can't."

"...Yeah"

Another burst of sound came from the room but this time some of the dialogue was clear; the fight seemed to be about money. The boy sighed and took a seat next to Dean on the bench, opening his candy bar. Dean brought his to his mouth to tear the plastic, but was embarrassingly having some difficulty. As if he were practiced, the boy silently took the candy bar from Dean's hand, ripped it open, and handed it back to him. The older man had to take a minute to process the moment; the boy behaving so casually competent it was almost disturbing. Dean managed to choke out a 'thanks' before too long had passed, but he was far from comprehending the intricacies of their interaction. The two of them sat in silence for another minute until the boy started looking down at his shoes again; it wasn't unlike a behavior Sam had done at that age.

"Can I ask you a question?" The boy's tone was hesitant but curious.

"S'ure." Dean nodded, despite not knowing where this was headed.

"Are you sick?"

Of all the things Dean considered this boy was going to ask, admittedly this was not one. It seemed that this child was even more astute than Dean had already given him credit for. Certainly feeling like the stupid one between them, Dean struggled to find a way of answering the boy's question.

"I'm n-ot s-sick. B'ut m-y b'ody works a l'ttle different'ly. It n-needs some help s'ometimesl. N-eeds g'ood people l'ike you to u-nderstnaad what I'm s-sayin." Dean gave the boy a half-grin and a nudge which resulted in hte kid giving a faint, half-hearted grin back.

"Does it have a name?"

Dean looked on, confused.

"D-does what have a n'ame?"

"The way your body works different. My sister's has a name. Cer-e-bral pal-sy." He was sure to sound it out slowly. Taking time to enunciate.

And with a few short sentences, Dean now realized how and why this boy understood so much. He'd grown up so fast; so fast, in fact, Dean confessed the boy even had him beat.

"D-doesn't have a n-name." Dean didn't know what to say to this boy. What could he? "Y-ou w-anna name it?" Dean eventually offered.

"Like a special thing you can call it?" The boy clarified excitedly.

"G-gotta make it s-sound cool, o-kay?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, still gnawing on his candy.

"Do you like Power Rangers?!"

"O-f course!" Dean replied, attempting to match the kid's levels of passion.

"You know when they all have to come together and fight in the transformer because they each only have one piece so they can't do it alone and they have to be all together to fight and so we can call it Megazord because your body has to work together with itself and it can't do it alone just like the Power Rangers."

Dean smiled at the speed and tone of the boy's rant; even more impressed with the kindness and compassion he put into his thoughts.

"M-egaz'ord. T-that's per'fect. Y-ou k'now, I think my b-brother's g-onna be j'ealous."

"You have a brother?!"

"A l'ittle b'rother, y-eah. W-what about your s-ister?"

"Oh, we're twins!" Interrupting their conversation was the aggressive opening of the motel door. A middle aged woman, presumably the boy's mother, stood in the doorway.

"Jacob! Get back inside, it's time to go to bed."

Dean watched as the boy stood obediently to go back inside.

"Thanks for the candy." His tone was more somber.

"H-hey Jacob. You tell your s-sister about h-how you m-et someone with Megazord, o'kay?"

Jacob smiled, nodding.

"I will. Goodnight, mister."

( ) ( ) ( )

It was now nearly five and Dean was making the walk back to their room. He hadn't seen Cas since their brief spat earlier and he hoped a confrontation wasn't awaiting him in the next few hours. He realized that he'd overreacted— it was clear, even to Dean, that he was overly protective of Nikki. He was just so desperate to save something, anything, and couldn't stand to have her dragged back into this hell. But the reality was that she already had been, and it wasn't only her that would be damned if they didn't get the information she had. Quickly approaching the room, Dean hesitated at the door. He didn't want to wake Sam—didn't want to worry him. Sighing, he stood contemplating his next move though his thoughts came slowly. Dean didn't want to admit it—even to himself— but he was tired. Not physically tired, but entirely fatigued.

Suddenly, Dean was taken off-guard. A single pulse of adrenaline flushing his body. Looking up, down the open hallway, Dean immediately relaxed. It was Cas, looking a bit apologetic; whether for scaring Dean, or for the fight earlier, Dean wasn't sure. Still, the angel approached calmly and Dean quickly got over any awkwardness about a post-spat reunion.

"What are you doing up?" Cas inquired as he finally reached him.

"S'lept earlie'r."

Castiel gave a single nod but clearly was displeased with the explanation.

"Nikki's awake as well. At least she was."

"You chec'k on her?" Dean asked, his voice regaining some clarity.

"Was I not supposed to?" Cas gave his head a half-tilt and a subtle look of worry.

"N-no, that's good. Thanks." Dean nodded, looking down a bit shamefully before continuing. "I'm s'orry about earlier. You weren't d'oing anything w-wrong."

"I don't want to worry her either, Dean."

"I know."

Cas stood patiently as Dean rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Cas extended.

"Yeah…"

"I can. If you'd rather. I promise to be…" Cas took a pause, thinking. "...casual." The word felt weird in Cas's mouth and it sounded equally strange.

"I don't know w'hat to do. I kno'w w-we need whatever info s-she's got but…" He trailed off and redirected the sentence. "I can't have h'er thinkin' this is on her s-shoulders."

Perceptibly, Castiel picked up on what Dean feared.

"You don't want her to have any responsibility." Cas paused and clarified. "For you."

Dean nodded once, almost shamefully. "But I'll t-talk to h'er. I w-will."

Dean's body language shifted then, his shoulders dropping, his knees loosening. It was clear to the angel that he was changing topics; their previous conversation dropped.

"S'am getting any sl'eep?"

"At least a few hours." Cas reported.

"O'kay, well I'm g'onna s'ee if I can't do the s'ame."

Dean turned to finish making his way to the room. While his thoughts should have been, by all accounts, concerned about what plan Zadkiel had for him, what information Nikki had, and what they were going to do about it, instead all he was thinking was that Megazord sounded like a dinosaur.

( ) ( ) ( )

Sam heard Dean come into the room in the dark, early hours of the morning, but he hadn't risen to greet him, or even acknowledge his presence. Fatigued beyond belief, all Sam could do was lie on the bed hoping that he could fall back asleep, and that Dean would be doing the same. The tremendous levels of anxiety, stress and fear had wiped Sam of his energy immensely. This night, it seemed, was maybe one (of very few) that he could afford to take advantage of. So Sam slept for as long as he could, thankful for the precious time. Still, despite himself, by eight o'clock the next morning, his body was awake and there was no point in attempting to fight it. Rubbing his eyes, Sam pulled himself out of bed and took note of the fact that Dean, rather than being asleep on the bed, was asleep in a chair, head leaning against the wall. He was lightly snoring, and seemed peaceful despite the very odd positioning. Quietly sidestepping, Sam pulled a duffle, changed his clothes, and stepped outside of the room. Immediately, he heard a familiar, albeit unexpected sound coming from Nikki's room.

Laughter.

But not just any laughter.

It sounded like Cas.

Unbelievably curious, Sam hesitantly knocked a few times on the door. A female giggle grew louder as it approached the door and eventually opened to reveal a smiling Nikki. At the sight of Sam's confused face, Nikki's own expression fell. Despite having known both the Winchester boys off and on for a decade, she was less familiar with Sam. And his face of confusion, to her, looked a lot more like disappointment.

"Were we being too loud?!" Nikki practically whispered, attempting to diagnose what she would have done to bother Sam so much.

"No! No, you're fine. I just…" Sam's gaze looked past Nikki and landed on Cas. "Cas? Laughing? You didn't drug him, did you?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and waved Sam inside.

"I don't know, Sam...maybe you're just not that funny." Nikki's comment was wholeheartedly in good fun and it was clear she didn't believe a word of it.

"Did you sleep?" Cas interjected. The comment lacked transition and changed the tone of the conversation, but Sam supposed it was kind that he was being checked in on.

"Yeah. Plenty of Zzzzz." Sam bit his lower lip, feeling a bit awkward that his presence had disrupted whatever vibe Cas and Nikki had created. A distant sound temporarily distracted Sam and his head unconsciously turned.

"It's alright. The angels aren't planning to do anything so long as we're here." Cas was calm and assuring, but Sam was skeptical.

"And when we're not here?" Nikki took a shallow gulp after she spoke, somewhat regretting that she'd voiced her concern.

Interrupting the inevitable silence following her rhetorical question, was a banging on an adjacent wall. The room Dean was in.

Flying to the door, Sam darted out of the room. In a matter of seconds, he was barging into the adjacent room, ready to fight any possible intruder. Instead of a wrathful angel, or a desperate demon, all Sam found upon entering was an irritated Dean, sitting on the floor beside a fallen, and slightly cracked chair.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Sam was exasperated.

Sam took a moment to recover from his panic and rubbed his face over once. Cas appeared behind him, and eventually Nikki did as well.

"What happened?!" Cas' voice was entirely business.

"Dean just gave me a heart attack." Sam bit.

"To think you avoided all that bacon just to have me be the thing to give you an MI…" Dean seemed relatively unfazed by whatever had happened moments before and raised his good arm. Cas received it, helping to pull him up.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked quietly—attempting to be private.

"Yeah. Fell asleep in the chair. Guess I tipped it." Dean's tone wasn't indicative of embarrassment. That is until his eyes landed on Nikki standing on the threshold. He spoke her name instinctually; saying it merely because he had observed it.

"Can I uhh...Can I talk to you?" Nikki extended the request much to the room's surprise, but Cas and Sam were already eyeing the door to step out. When Dean gave a general sound of agreement, and Nikki stepped further into the room, both Sam and Cas slipped out.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, eyes wide.

"I want to talk about it. About what happened. The angels…. You. And I have no place to push you. But I'm asking."

They stood, facing each other, with a good eight feet between them. Dean didn't know what to say; this time, he couldn't read her. Did she need to talk for her or because she knew him so well—knew that he couldn't stand to force her to talk. Regardless, though, she was still standing in front of him waiting for an answer.

"Okay." It came out almost like a question, but Nikki gave a little smile. She turned and walked a few steps to the edge of a bed, sitting.

"I was out late at a bar; working a busy shift at a new place...they wanted to see how I did before they hired me. And leaving, I didn't know where I was going. I got turned around in some back alley. That's where they took me. Two men. One woman. They dragged me to a van. Just like the goodman movies. And when I started screaming… they said your name. And then I knew how dangerous this was."

"Nikki-"

"But I also knew that I was gonna make it out. Because I knew you'd come."

"I didn't get there soon enough. This never should have happened to you in the first place."

"And nothing bad should have happened to you. But it did. And you know what? If I can deal with it half as well as you do...I'm a pretty brave person."

"Come 'ere." Dean reached his arm out, opening it to embrace her. Nikki stood and closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her cheek was flat against his chest and his arm squeezed her tightly against him. Nikki couldn't help the fact that this physical contact broke down her walls; her eyes fogged with tears.

"They talked. About how you'd be their experiment. They laughed. How they'd torture me...how they'd torture you...until you gave in. And they'd take the power—Michael's grace-— and watch what would happen to the vessel. They said that if Arcangel grace could do even a fraction of the damage it did to you then it would be Heaven's greatest weapon."

As Nikki spoke, the tears came harder. Soon, the front of Dean's shirt was damp. He tried to calm her; made a long and steady shushing noise as his hand rubbed her back. And eventually, albeit unexpectedly, he had the impulse to kiss the top of her head. Leaning forward, he found where her hair met her forehead, and rested a long, caring kiss. At this simple act, Nikki's cries slowed and she attempted to pull herself together. She didn't pull away, but their embrace shifted somewhat; it became less urgent, less intimate. Still connected, Nikki sighed against his chest, feeling so much relief that she finally released what she'd been so focused on bottling up. Still, she was embarrassed that Dean was the one caring for her. But even then, she knew that allowing him to comfort her—to save her—was the best way to save him. Dean was a man of many things, and pride was not exempt from that list. If Dean needed someone to save in order to feel alive, and Nikki needed saving, then it was not only logical, but also compassionate, that they confide in one another. In some ways, it was what they'd always done. Granted, the stakes had been lower. Nikki felt Dean take a particularly large breath, and as he spoke, she felt the vibrations of his chest against her head.

"I don't think hunters are ones much for luck. But I'm real lucky to have met you."

Nikki smiled gently before a quiet giggle began bubbling.

"Sap."

With that, Nikki broke away from Dean and ran her hand over her face. Her eyes landed on the semi-broken chair still askew in the corner and in a desperate attempt to shift focus, she questioned him about it.

"So why exactly were you sleeping in the chair?"

"Oh..uh.." Dean hesitated, thrown off-guard. Nikki immediately realized that this question, despite how innocent she'd intended it, had struck a nerve. It occurred to her much too late that perhaps the answer to her question involved something much more personal or sensitive than she'd anticipated.

"That was a lousy question. Never mind." Nikki's face went red as she attempted to pivot, but Dean remained frozen. Now her heart began thumping; had she really hurt him that badly? "Dean?" She specified.

He remained silent. His gaze was fixed and empty; his jaw relaxing and head lolling slightly. When the quietest of noises came from him—a sound squeaking from his throat rather than from the deep vibrations in his chest—Nikki realized that something was wrong. What she didn't know was what to do.

Fearing that he would become unstable on his feet, she once agains closed the space between them and served as a spotter (should he start listing). Dean's eyes fluttered briefly and his footing stumbled. Nikki wrapped behind his back, keeping his weight centered. Then, in an instant, Dean's head snapped upwards, as if he were awaking from a nightmare.

"Dean. I gotcha. You okay?"

He was silent, but let out a held-breath. Nikki was patient and unbothered; she had no problem standing there, hand on his back, until he was ready. Not wanting to be too overbearing though, and confident he was relatively stable, Nikki let one arm drop away from him. One hand was still snaked behind him, holding him in place, but her free hand found Dean's open one; grasping it. Almost immediately, he squeezed back gently. Nikki rubbed her thumb a few times over the back of his hand and before long, he looked over at her; eyes alert and full of life.

"Didn't mean to scare you." He whispered.

"You didn't" She replied steadily, giving his hand another pulse. "Do you need anything?"

"M'okay. Wasn't too long, was it?"

"Maybe a minute. It didn't-" Nikki cut herself off.

"What?" Dean didn't let it go.

"It didn't seem too bad." Nikki took a breath. "But I didn't think that was gonna come out sounding right."

Dean had a shadow of a smile and took a step forward.

"I know what you mean. And you're right, by the way. It wasn't too bad" Dean managed a wink as he eased himself down on the mattress. "Where'd Sam and Cas disappear to?"

"I think they ran far away." Nikki's brow raised comedically.

"Figures."

Nikki paced around the room just a step or two, crossing her arms in contemplation.

"Is that our plan too? Running far away?"

"Is that an invitation?" Dean smirked, but with due cognizance of the mood.

"It's always an open invitation...But that's not what I meant."

"I know." Dean sighed, not knowing how to answer her.

"Problem is, there's nowhere to run. Not so long as I'm lowjacked with Angel Juice."

"So we fight. Like men in tights." Nikki's smile made the room shine bright and Dean stood from the bed, laughing.

"Like Power Rangers." Dean corrected, still chuckling.

"Power Rangers?!" Nikki enthusiastically echoed.

"I mean I got the power of Megazord after all."

Dean stepped closer to her; his hand hovering, debating whether or not to touch her face. Nikki answered for him, leaning into his touch.

"Do I even want to know what that means?" She giggled.

"It means I wanna kiss you." Dean paused. Nervous. Unsure.

Nikki's arms reached up and locked behind his head, gently resting on either of his shoulders. Leaning in, she whispered,

"I thought you'd never ask."

Meeting each other's faces, they both had a wave of nostalgia. It felt like eons since they'd been together this way. It was calm and familiar, comforting and warm, but still, it was laced with sadness. A sadness for people they had both been that were now gone, and a sadness for the fact that as wonderful as this electric meeting was, it was no longer what they craved from one another. Despite the moment's brevity, the tenderness with which they touched would last them both a lifetime of satisfaction.

Gently pulling away, Nikki released her arms from resting on Dean, and suggested they ought to track down Sam and Cas before they started getting into trouble. Dean, knowing the moment must end, respectfully agreed with her suggestion.

( ) ( ) ( )

A/N: I know this chapter is not even half the length it should be considering how long it's been since I've updated, but because I'm getting back into things, I didn't want to drone on too long in a transitional moment. More to come!

Thank you all infinitely; kudos to YOU :)