Castiel was accustomed to spending nights alone, but some passed slower than others. Dawn wouldn't break for hours, and even then Castiel knew that daylight wouldn't bring relief. It was only a matter of time before Zadkiel learned that Daniel had been intercepted (if he didn't know already.) Castiel could only hope that the rest of heaven didn't get involved– he had never fit in well with his peers. Cas was either revered or loathed; he found he didn't often inspire indifference.

The humans slept, and Castiel contemplated the conditions necessary to succeed against Zadkiel. The strongest plan, he was confident, would be to have Dean continue using the grace; the grace's power would grow, and Dean could harness it to easily kill Zadkiel. Of course that was an awful plan. Because the true difficulty wasn't the actual act of killing the evil angels. On the contrary, it was fair to assume that he and Sam would be more than capable of killing all of their enemies. But not without huge risk to Dean. And Nikki. And now Daniel and his family. It may have been true that Michael's grace couldn't be taken without Dean's permission, but yesterday had proven how easily Zadkiel was able to strip Dean of his mental faculties. Convince Dean to say yes? Nearly impossible. Drive Dean crazy enough that he says yes without knowing? Probable.

A perfect scenario involved Dean, appearing weak and fragile, to be delivered to Zadkiel. Sam and Cas pleading that Zadkiel take the grace and heal Dean in return. Then, once Dean had changed hands, for him to somehow kill Zadkiel while Sam and Cas took care of the other angels. With the bad guys eradicated, Castiel could rid Daniel's daughter of her illness, and Sam and Dean could get back to the way they'd been.

Regrettably, the way they'd been was not a state anyone wished to return to. But it was the lesser of two evils… the devil you know.

Castiel heard a mild ringing in his head– a feeling he, unlike Dean, was comfortable with. He waited for the voice he knew was coming.

Cas, it's me. Dean's prayer offered Castiel a break from his wandering mind. I'm awake. Sam's snoring— figures. Sorry if you're busy….Guess you prolly got stuck with babysitting duty again. I just wanted to say, ummm, thank you. For… being you. You're always there. You take care of everyone when I can't. … Alright, well this is just as awkward as it always is. Here uhh, endeth the prayer.

Cas nodded in acknowledgement even though Dean wasn't there to see it. Castiel went back to adding sigils to the motel room walls; not ones that might alert Zadkiel, but some that might keep demons, or other creatures from dirtying their hands with this business. Zadkiel was able to manipulate human Daniel into joining his crusade and Cas didn't want any other beings falling in line. He continued his contemplations for another hour or so, time passing in silence and relative peace. Then, just past 4am, Castiel heard a brief noise through the walls– too quiet to be from Nikki's room next door. The boys' room, then. Cas couldn't help the jolt of worry coursing through him, but he calmed quickly. If there was a disaster, he would certainly know.

Two rooms over, Sam shot awake in a cold sweat. Hair stuck to the back of his neck, sheets were tangled at his feet, and panicked breaths were gulping air into his lungs. Sam rubbed his hands over his face, relieved to feel the familiar placement and shape of his nose, cheekbones, eyebrows, lips… Sam released a held breath at the realization that he didn't have Lucifer's face. That had been his nightmare, after all. Sam dreamt of falling apart, limb by limb, joint by joint, socket by socket, bone by bone, the drip, drip, drip of his blood leaking out of him. And as Sam Winchester rotted away, Lucifer took up residence in his skin. Sam was being eaten alive.

Needing to feel his body move under his own power, to shake the grime of the dream off, Sam untangled himself from the bed. He stumbled to the bathroom, closed the door, and stared at his face in the mirror. His face. Sam's face, he thought to himself. Oddly enough, the third person address made him feel calmer. Sam is here. Sam is safe. Sam won. Lucifer is gone. The water ran cold in the sink, and Sam splashed his face, hoping to rid it of the hot flush of fear. He leaned over and bent his head under the faucet, taking a few deep gulps of water, distracting himself by focusing on the metallic taste. Pulling a towel from the bar, he dried his face and wiped the sweat away from behind his neck. Just go back to bed. Sam was silent in his command. Opening the bathroom door, with the light still on behind him, Sam had a clear view of Dean. He was curled on his side, bad arm pinned underneath him, with the other arm lazily hung over the edge of the bed. The hood of the sweatshirt had miraculously stayed on, and hung just below Dean's eyebrows.

All Sam could think about was how he'd give anything to not have to go back to sleep. To hell with it, Sam thought, as he moved to Dean's bed.

"Dean." Sam spoke at a normal volume, trying not to sound too alarming. Dean immediately sat up, pulling the hood off his head. "It's me, it's fine," Sam assured.

Dean visibly relaxed at Sam's use of the word 'fine.'

"You good?" Dean asked, "What's goin' on?"

"Ummm… I kinda … need to talk." Sam almost cringed at the sound of his own voice. Now that Dean was awake, it sounded so stupid.

"Shoot." Dean's tone was impressively casual and only had a hint of sleepiness.

"I had a nightmare."

"Okay. Was it about me?" Dean asked, without selfishness.

"No, actually. Think that's why it freaked me out. Unexpected, I guess." The more words Sam spoke, the easier the next ones came. "It was me. And Lucifer. He was… eroding me..? Eating away… It's like I feltmyself being hollowed out. He burrowed into me, like—" Sam swallowed thickly, eyes downcast. He realized that as much as he might have wanted to share, Dean might not be in a headspace that was ready to face the consequences of possession. "Then I woke up. Can't seem to shake it." Sam's tone lifted, as if things were supposed to be better when the nightmare ended. … As if it really ever ends. "I want to scrape him out of me, but I don't know how."

"I do," Dean said resolutely. "Keep talkin' about him." Dean rubbed his eyes, swallowed dryly and then continued. "Lucifer was alone, Sam. Truly, fully, alone. For an eternity. That made him desperate, and dangerous…. But it also made him sloppy." Dean's voice dropped just a few tones. "There are parts of you he can never get to, Sam. Things he never unraveled. You might have been all he ever had. But Lucifer was never everything you had. You've always been stronger than him. I promise you that."

Sam wiped his face, and let out a reactionary noise.

"This is really getting to me all of a sudden, huh?" Sam tried to make the comment sound light.

"I'd be worried if it didn't." Dean gave a half-smile and got out of bed, tapping Sam on the back as he walked towards the door. "C'mon, you want a drink?"

"Dean, it's like four in the morning."

"From the vending machine, you idiot."

Sam smiled, walking to join Dean.

At the door, Dean paused briefly, hand on the doorknob.

"Sammy– I'm glad you woke me up." Sam was finally letting Dean be his brother again.

"Yeah…" The corner of Sam's lip rose. "Me too."

( ) ( ) ( )

The inside of the Impala was crowded; Sam sat in the drivers' seat, with Daniel next to him on the passenger side. Wedged in the back were Dean, Cas, and Nikki. Dean didn't want to force Nikki to sit with Daniel the stranger, and Cas needed to be near Dean if Angel Radio got too out of hand again. So Sam and Daniel had taken the front, and the others crammed uncomfortably in the back seat with Nikki in the middle as she was the smallest of them.

"I don't know why you didn't want me to lie!" Daniel was nervous about the plan they'd put in place and he still wanted justification for why he'd been asked to do the opposite of what he thought was right.

"Zadkiel's afraid of what power Dean has. If Zadkiel's nervous, he'll have every reason to take the most extreme action he's capable of undertaking." Cas said. "But by telling the truth— that Dean is weakened—we tell Zadkiel what he wants to hear: he won."

"A desperate man is a dangerous man. So you have to convince him he has no need to be desperate," Sam added.

"And you all are planning on..?" Daniel trailed off, wanting them to finish for him.

"Safer that you don't know. For you and your family" Cas replied.

They'd spent the better part of the day getting ahead as much as they could. Zadkiel was still using Dean as a lightning rod; blowing up Angel Radio, and blowing up Dean's senses right along with it. Cas had been able to help a bit, but it was clear that there was no use in waiting around any longer; it was time to make a move.

Sam was nearing the warehouse, wishing he could see how many enemies lay waiting. Sam hadn't been this nervous since the Adlet, weeks ago. But nerves usually made Sam stronger, and he used it to his advantage. He was more aware of every misstep, contingency, lingering stare, blind spots… Everything was clearer when adrenaline left a bitter taste in his mouth. Pulling up to the abandoned building, Sam stopped thinking and began feeling. His gut would tell him what his brain was too anxious to process.

Everyone was filing out of the car, preparing in their own way. Sam went to Dean's side, and gave him the pep-talk he knew his brother needed.

"You've got this. I've seen you fight a million times."

Dean nodded, head heavy, clearly feeling less-than-100%.

"Dean! C'mon." Sam chastised the less-than-enthused reaction from his brother. Tough love had few uses as far as Sam was concerned, but this moment warranted it. Dean needed to know that he had to be on his A-game— there was no room for error. Sam read the situation right; Dean toughened up, perked up, and took on the persona of the hunter that he needed to be.

The warehouse was even grimier than last time— an old pipe must have burst, leaving a sludge-like substance of decaying plant matter and sewage on the ground. Most disturbing was the fact that there was no sign of Zadkiel.

That is until Dean crumpled over, cradling his head.

"You've made your point!" Sam shouted to the empty building, hoping to end this as quickly as possible.

With a flutter of wings, Zadkiel arrived along with five of his followers. Immediately, Sam recognized that they were outnumbered.

"Apologies…" Zadkiel spoke and Dean let out a breath in relief, the pain subsiding. "I had to know Daniel didn't break our agreement."

"I never lied to you," Daniel reaffirmed.

"Yes, I can see that. But you understand my concern, seeing you side with them."

"They found me" Daniel defended.

"I thought you despised humans, Zadkiel. And yet here you are employing them." Cas baited him.

"Humans are inoffensive creatures, so long as they know their place. Which brings us to the man in question, does it not?" Zadkiel raised one eyebrow. "Tell me, Dean, how are you faring as a conduit of Michael's grace? Has it been a pleasant experience?" Zadkiel's sweet tone was revolting.

"I'm here, ain't I?" Dean said.

"Indeed. No need to humiliate you. But I am concerned by the entourage you've brought with you… Hardly reads as a surrender."

"Who said I was surrendering anything other than the goddamn angel juice? Besides, last I checked, you took out a bigger insurance policy than I did." Dean looked at each of the angels one-by-one.

"Let's cut the formality, shall we? I know you don't want me to have the power. But have you considered the realities of the alternative? Is that kind of cosmic energy not safer in the hands of angels?" Zadkiel began slowly pacing, side-stepping to avoid the muck on the floor. "Michael is dead; it's only his shadow. And even at that, you can't keep up with it. Not indefinitely, at least. Do you understand how easy it was for me to inundate your vessel?" Sam cringed. Zadkiel kept talking, painting a solemn picture. "Yes, you could kill me. Smite me, and that's the end. But only my end, not the end for you. How long before you kill Castiel? How long before he stands too close and you lose control of the grace for a split second too long… And think how much simpler it would be to accidentally kill Sam. It's heaven's power, Dean. It doesn't belong on Earth. Besides— you're the thing making it dangerous, right? I take the grace out of its perfect vessel and it diminishes. A third, say, of what it once was. But in you— it could continue to grow. To destroy more than you could possibly imagine. You're a time-bomb, Dean."

"You seem awfully confident of all this." Sam chined in.

"Archangel history is a passion of mine."

"You think that will convince us to trust you?" Cas called out Zadkiel's goading.

"Enough!" Dean yelled. "Let's get this over with." Dean took a hesitant step towards Zadkiel but paused before progressing. "You get the grace, and we leave."

"Simple as that. I have no need for theatrics."

"Ironic considering the runtime on that monologue of yours." Dean spoke as he got closer and closer to Zadkiel. "You're pretty damn comfortable standing next to someone you're convinced is a time-bomb." Dean got closer, syncing his words with every step. "Tick-tock, tick-tock…" Dean landed a foot away from Zadkiel. "Boom."

Across the room, Daniel threw down the book the angels had given him, and dropped to his knees to flip to the correct page and the book began to glow. Dean hurriedly murmured the passage he'd memorized.

"Masu'frax o'rbiatus witupera'wit cae'luk senex'iro."Dean gave a sly grin.

Dean's eyes glowed blue and he concentrated with everything he had on blasting the angels with energy.

If they could screech like a banshee, then be damned if Dean couldn't too.

Synchronously, all the angels (save for Cas) collapsed to the ground, hands covering their ears. Cas had been expecting it, and while he still felt pain and disorientation, was able to fight through it. With the enemies temporarily debilitated, Sam, Cas and Nikki engaged with their intended targets; angel blades landing solidly in every chest. Dean began weakening, the power fizzling out before anyone else could make it to Zadkiel. Dean hunched over, deflated, as soon as the power faded. Meanwhile, Zadkiel was recovering too quickly for comfort. He rose to his feet and let out an enraged cry. Zadkiel fought to place a hand on Dean's head and he eventually succeeded. But Dean Winchester had never needed divine power to triumph.

Dean pulled the angel blade from the inside of his jacket and lodged it under Zadkiel's chin, just as he'd done with Zachariah nearly a decade ago. A white lightning ripped through Zadkiel, leaving his eyes dark and void as he crumpled to the dirty ground of the warehouse. Before Zadkiel's clothes managed to wet in the puddles, Sam and Cas were beside Dean. Nikki soon arrived on their flank, Daniel in tow. The team stood in a semicircle, staring at the imprint of Zadkiel's ashy wings with well-deserved pride. Seeing everyone's dignified expression in his peripheral vision, Dean broke the silence.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

( ) ( ) ( )

Oddly enough, Dean felt good. Really good. Yeah, maybe it was because he'd used the grace, but more than that, it felt good to have won. The adrenaline (and who knows what else) left him feeling a little jittery. Usually he'd call it his post-hunt buzz but this felt different than that. It was something deeper, less physical. Dean considered that maybe he was remembering what hope felt like.

The ride back to the rooms was oddly quiet, save for Daniel Fordham's breathless, confused recounting of all he'd witnessed. Cas, to his credit, did a good job calmly explaining things in a way that didn't overwhelm the poor man. All in all, the future looked brighter than it had in a long time. Nikki was officially no longer bait, Cas was starting to feel like a real friend again, Sam was leaning on Dean a little more, and they were finally ready to check out of this goddamn hotel. If Sam or Dean had to stare at that paint any longer, they'd punch a hole through the drywall. When they pulled into the parking lot, Cas stayed to speak with Daniel about making good on his deal to heal his daughter. Meanwhile, Sam, Dean, and Nikki worked to pack up their things. Despite their stuff being sprawled across several different rooms, it didn't take long for them to organize themselves; a hunter's whole life fits inside a few duffles. But even with their things packed, they were far from being ready to leave Colorado. First and foremost, they still had the business of thanking Daniel for his help and healing his daughter. Daniel had no desire to wait for the proverbial dust to settle and wanted this dealt with as quickly as possible; nobody could blame him for it.

Now that Nikki was no longer in danger, she opted to take a bit of time to herself and not travel with the boys. Dean bribed the manager to let Nikki borrow his car which the man wasn't keen on. But he wanted the cash. So instead, the manager gave her the keys to an abandoned pickup truck that had been sitting in his lot for over a month. With that, Nikki went out to finally get herself some real clothes, a good meal, and some much-needed alone time. Meanwhile, Cas and the Winchesters made a short journey to meet Daniel's family and get back to what they do best: saving people.

The small apartment Daniel squirreled his family away into was a few shy steps away from homey. You could tell that they'd done their best to keep up appearances for the kids, but Dean knew that good intentions only went so far. He played back the screaming match he'd overheard at the motel, and how mature and reserved little Jacob had been about the whole thing. Despite everything, Dean was confident the Fordhams would make it through this.

Sam and Dean made brief hellos to Daniel's wife, but it was clear that she was still shaken and unsure about all this, and understandably so. After she'd warmed up a bit (Sam did a great job, as always, making everyone feel comforted and taken care of) the parents finally told the kids it was okay to come out and say hi. Jacob appeared immediately, his face lighting up with surprise when he recognized Dean.

"You're from the hotel! You're the one helping my sister?"

"Well not me, but my friend here." Jacob's eyes mistakenly went to Sam. Dean clarified, "Oh, not him. This is my brother I told you about."

"That's your little brother?!" Jacob asked, mouth agape, wide eyes looking Sam up and down repeatedly.

"Yeah. Not so little is he, huh?"

Jacob shook his head.

"I'm still the big brother though, and don't you forget it." Dean playfully shoved Sam which resulted in a full-belly laugh from Jacob.

The laughter drew out another child from a bedroom. Dean caught sight of her lingering in the doorway.

"Hi," Dean raised his tone to something higher in pitch. Jacob turned to look at what Dean was staring at.

"That's Samantha. She's my sister. My twin sister, actually."

"Hi Samantha," Dean said. "My name is Dean. This is my brother, Sam."

"Sometimes people call me Sam," The girl stated matter of factly. "You're not Samantha too, right?" Her voice became uneven.

"Honestly, Samantha might be a better name…I'm Samuel."

The girl crinked her face in reaction to the name Samuel— she hadn't intended to be rude, but she clearly didn't like the name. Sam saw this and laughed.

"I know… it's not my favorite either." Sam's tone was gentle, as if he was sharing a secret.

"You know when we were about your age— I did used to call him Samantha." Dean added, resulting in another full-belly laugh from Jacob.

"Did you watch Power Rangers?" Samantha asked. Obviously Jacob had told her the story about meeting Dean, the man with megazord.

"Can you keep a secret, guys?" Dean bent down to match their level. "I still watch Power Rangers…" This time, Samantha was the one who laughed. The laugh quickly progressed into a deep, painful coughing fit, and it reminded them all why they were there. After she recovered, she took a seat on the couch, and Dean sat with her. Jacob sat on the floor in front of them, and Daniel stood in the kitchen, watching from afar.

"Samantha?" Dean asked, as gently as he could. "My friend here—his name is Cas—he's gonna help you get healthy. And that's really good. Cause it means you can spend more time with your brother, and your mom and dad, and your friends at school, and playing games, and watching Power Rangers…" Dean swallowed. "It's good to be healthy so you can feel strong and do everything you want to do." Dean longed to be strong again. "But nothing is wrong with the way you are right now. You're perfect right now! And after my friend Cas makes you feel better, you'll be perfect then too. Okay?"

Samantha nodded, looking into his eyes seemingly understanding, deeply, everything that Dean meant. Dean stood from the sofa, making room for Samantha's mom to replace him. The mother shuffled Samantha into her lap as Castiel came over and explained he'd lay a hand on the girl's head. Unceremoniously, Cas healed her and stepped away.

"That's it?" Daniel wasn't convinced.

"She's healthy." Cas confirmed. "Take her to your doctors, they'll convince you."

"And if she's not?" Daniel challenged.

No response was necessary; Samantha unfurled from the couch and seemed surprised at how easily the movement came to her. She took a tentative step, and then a deep breath. Sam, Dean and Cas didn't have a reference, but the look on their faces told them all they needed to know. Samantha moved without difficulty, walking over to her brother, and then her father. An explosion of conversation and tears was born in the small living room and Team Free Will excused themselves to let the family have their privacy. On a table by the door, Sam left a note with a list of phone numbers and a message that read, 'if you need anything.' Sam closed the door behind him and walked to the car with a smile.

( ) ( ) ( )

Desperate as everyone was to get out of Colorado, the remaining loose ends were difficult to tie up. For one, Castiel had to tend to the fallout in Heaven as a result of Zadkiel's failed plot. Second, it was going to be a very long journey for the boys back to Kansas, especially considering they had no idea what state Dean might be in. Finally, there was Nikki. What were her plans? Would she accompany the boys back to Kansas? Find her way back to a life off-the-grid? How was Dean supposed to casually initiate a conversation about what was next for her? After so much unity, it was disheartening to see their team begin to faction. But much to their surprise, it all happened quite naturally. Nikki took it upon herself to convince the manager to let her permanently take the abandoned truck and he'd agreed. It was now hers to do with as she pleased. Castiel did one final sweep of the area to ensure no damaging magic was left behind and then promptly made his way to Heaven to stave off any further unraveling. There was no real purpose in any of them staying any longer, so Sam began to pack the car (if for nothing else than something to keep himself busy). Before Dean could decide how to broach a conversation with Nikki, she appeared next to him, by the hood of the Impala.

"So where's home these days?" Nikki asked, voice sweet and low.

"Lebanon, Kansas." Dean replied, sniffling, looking down at his boots.

"Is that where you're headed?" She asked.

Dean hesitated to respond, not sure what exactly she was looking for. Nikki smiled and rolled her eyes, nudging his side.

"Relax, buddy. I don't think I'm looking for home… I uhh… don't even know where that would be. Or what home even means to me right now."

"Hope that's not 'cause of me." Dean smiled sadly.

"No, of course not."

"Then come with us. Till you sort things out."

"Dean–"

She didn't need a pitying offer. In truth, Iit wasn't pitying or empty, but they both knew they didn't fit into each other's lives right now. Maybe someday down the road…

"Well you know where to find me," Dean said, understanding.

"Thanks for being one of the good ones." Nikki opened her arms and embraced him– finding her spot where her head met his sternum. Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Take care, Nikki."

( ) ( ) ( )

Two hours in and Sam and Dean still hadn't really spoken. Not because there was animosity, but because there was nothing either of them really wanted to say. Dean didn't want to talk about what was next, or how he was feeling. Sam didn't want to waste energy worrying about what had happened or what would happen… Right now, they were driving. That was all. And that was good enough.

( ) ( ) ( )

Four hours in and Sam officially needed a break. They had three and a half hours to go and he wasn't going to make it without stretching his legs. Wordlessly, he pulled off the interstate at the next exit and Dean didn't question it. It was starting to feel creepy though– not speaking for so long. Absurdly, they were being quite superstitious about the whole thing. As if talking about all that had transpired was somehow going to break their brief winning streak. All that said, Sam certainly wasn't going to be the one to break it. He pulled into a shopping center that mainly consisted of a grocery store and a pharmacy. Walking grocery aisles for half an hour was hardly ideal, but he was far from picky. As Sam pulled into a space, Dean finally broke the silence.

"Food or fidget?"

Dean said it as if it was his go-to tagline despite never having once uttered such a weird phrase. What the weird question did accomplish was making Sam grin.

"I gotta stretch my legs. You comin'?"

Dean simply opened his door in response and Sam opened his in turn. Sam began walking to the storefront but sensed that Dean wasn't trailing him. Turning over one shoulder, Sam saw that Dean was still by the car, hanging on the frame of the passenger door. Walking back, Sam questioned him.

"Change your mind?"

Dean shifted his weight awkwardly.

"I'll meet you inside." Dean said, tone flat.

The only thing Sam wanted to do was ask questions. What's going on? How do you feel? Is it the grace? But he was committed to their stupid, idiotic superstition and wasn't going to ask about Dean's state. So Sam sighed and turned around, walking back towards the grocery store. Ten minutes later, in the bread aisle, Dean showed up. He looked a little agitated, but otherwise healthy enough.

"We should pick up supplies while we're here. Bunker's gonna be empty." Dean didn't breathe a word about whatever incident had happened out at the car.

"I don't even think I cleaned out the fridge before we left," Sam admitted.

"Divide and conquer. I'll meet you at the front. Left my jacket in the car and it has my wallet."

Dean headed off to another aisle and Sam shifted gears trying to bury his curiosity and instead think about what food to pick up. He kept it light on produce, knowing they still had hours to go in the car and realistically he'd have to go shopping again after they got home. He focused on things that would get them through the next few meals and kept it pretty unexciting. Try as he might, he couldn't keep his worry at bay. What the hell happened at the car that made Dean so cagey? It wasn't just that he was slow to get out of the car, it was his whole demeanor. The car ride in relative silence, the strange preoccupation with grocery shopping…? Food or fidget? Dean was being weird.

Sam skipped over the frozen aisle and went to meet up with Dean in junk food. Except Dean wasn't in the chip aisle. Or the candy aisle. So Sam circled to the front checkout, but still no Dean. Last but not least, Sam circled around to the back right of the store where they sold beer, wine and spirits. Nothing. Okay, he went back to the car, Sam thought. This thought did actually calm Sam's worry and he continued to the checkout with the handful of items he'd picked up. Joanne, the cashier, was pleasant enough. Halfway through scanning, the store's PA system crackled on with a loud burst of static. No words were audible, the feedback screeching a horrible banshee-like sound. Then, suddenly, the speaker cut off. Human screams replaced the sound. Sam bolted out of the lane, towards the sound of panicked yelling. He turned several corners, getting closer and closer to the origin, until he finally turned into a section that looked like a bakery. There was a huddle of a few people, gathered together, staring at the floor, pulling out their phones and dialing what Sam assumed was 911. Taking a few steps in closer, Sam's height allowed him to see over the heads of the huddle of people. There, on the laminate grocery store floor, was Dean. Seizing.