A/Ns: Figured we could post a *little* early again this week (it was supposed to be earlier but I got distracted watching the first Avengers). I've been relegated to standing around my house for the second weekend in a row with nothing to do but write standing up while I stare longingly at the couch, or any chair in general, really. Back issues are so stuuuupid.

(It's actually my piriformis, which is beneath your glute, so, literally, what a pain in the ass. Talk about being the butt of my own joke. God, tight asses, am I right? Okay, I swear, that's the last dad pun, and this was probably waaay too much information for you all XD)

Extra long chapter this time (to make up for the dad jokes) I know the last, like, ten chapters have been on the shorter side of out normal range, so an extra long one to finally balance it out :P

Chapter Warnings: Andy's getting his dream power on and oh boy is he wishing he wasn't, evil twins are *evil*, angels and demons are popping by for chats, and oh, yeah, Andy watches way too much trashy tv (and maybe ships it?)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Road So Far (This Time Around)

Season 2: Chapter 31

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tracy called him on the phone that night. Andy didn't own a cell – he always just asked one off of someone when he needed to – but it wasn't all that hard to get a hold of him. Just call the pizza joint he parked his van outside of most nights (they had the best pie in town, man, and were always willing to give him dinner on the house anytime he asked). Mike was one of the delivery guys and just so happened to also be Andy's primary supplier of the good stuff (he actually had four different guys around town he went to for pot; even the lowest-key of dealers got kinda squirmy pretty quickly if they thought you were scamming them, mind powers or not. So Andy had taken to alternating). Mike knocked on the side of the van around nine, one medium pan-crust peperoni, banana peppers, and pineapple smelling like Heaven in his hands. Andy's favorite. Mike handed over the pie, a couple grams, and the message that Tracy was looking for him.

Man, did Andy live the good life, or what?

He got to Tracy's shop a little after eleven. She didn't call him much anymore, not since he'd pretty much put the grand canyon of emotional distance between them. He hadn't meant to, not really. He just…didn't want to end up controlling her, not even by accident. And it would be accidental, of course; Andy would never use his power on Tracy any other way. But, he hadn't always had the best control, especially early on when they'd first started and he spent several months just freaking out. Even once he'd mastered them, Andy knew better than to think control was anything more than a matter of will, and he'd never exactly been good at the self-discipline category.

He didn't want to hurt her, and Andy sort of knew that, eventually, if he stuck around, he would.

"Trace?" The little door above the shop jingled as he slipped inside. It was way too late for customers; the coffee shop would have closed up hours ago. But he knew Tracy often stayed late to prep for the next day or have some peace away from an apartment sometimes noisy with her roommate's late night habits.

"I'm back here, Andy." Her voice came from the kitchen, but he frowned at the slight shake in it. She sounded like she'd been crying.

"You okay?" He hurried towards the back, rounding the counter and slipping into the kitchen only to pull up short. Tracy was sitting in one of the chairs beside the counter, in nothing but a slip, one of the straps falling off her shoulder. She'd definitely been crying, and she wasn't alone.

"Weber," Andy said cautiously, glancing between the two. Weber was sitting on the counter just beside Tracy, and he had a very large kitchen knife laying across his lap. Oh god, this was one of those new-guy-in-town-is-actually-a-serial-killer sort of things, wasn't it? Weber always had come on way too friendly.

"Hey, bro."

Tracy hiccupped, a single tear slipping free but she fought back any other noise, her face tinging red with the effort. Andy got a very, very bad feeling in his gut.

"What's going on? Tracy, you okay?"

She started to shake her head, not moving from the chair and Andy wondered why she wasn't just getting up and moving to him. Probably for the same reason he wasn't crossing the room to her. Weber's big damn knife.

"Now, now, Trace, don't be like that. Tell him how happy you are." Andy couldn't help the cant of his head as he stared at the man he barely knew with growing dread. The way he'd said that last bit- it had been different. It had been…familiar.

"I-I'm s-so happy, Andy." Tracy stumbled over the words, hiccupping again. Her hands were shaking and Andy eye's widened in realization of what was happening.

"How-" He turned back to Weber. "How are you-"

Weber smiled. He freaking smiled, like Tracy wasn't sitting there in nothing but her underwear practically sobbing while he held a knife in his hands. "Surprised that there's someone else like you?"

He hopped off the counter and Andy took a step back, eyeing that blade. But Weber didn't turn it on Tracy. He seemed, for the most part, to be ignoring her, his eyes only on Andy. "Now ask me why I'm like you."

It wasn't a command, not like he'd given Tracy and not like Andy had given a hundred people in the last year alone.

"Why…"

"Why, what, Andy? You gotta be specific, man."

That sarcastic tone, that smug little smirk, like all of this was a game, was enough to spark something in him. Andy realized he was angry. Angry enough to focus, to eye that knife with more than just worry. "Why are you like me?"

"Because we're brothers!" Weber cast his hands out, blade getting dangerously close to Trace, who flinched at the wild movement. Andy twitched forward, but Weber didn't notice. He dropped his arms, a manic grin on his face. "Aren't you going to say something, bro?"

"I don't-" Andy blinked, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't have a brother."

"Don't say that." The tip of the knife was suddenly aimed in his direction, and Weber jabbed it forward with each word. "Don't."

Andy raised his hands, his pulse rapid. "Okay, just- just calm down, alright? I- what do you mean, we're brothers?"

"I mean we're brothers!" Weber practically screamed it, face red, before he calmed back down. He lowered the knife and took a deep breath. God, Andy though. He's crazy. "Our mother," the word was spat like a curse, "gave us up. And that doctor helped with the adoption. He split us up!"

He was shaking with rage, and that scared Andy, but not enough to stop the words from going through. "Doctor- wait… are you… are you talking about Dr. Jennings?"

"Yes!" Weber was getting animated again, waiving that knife around. "He split us up, bro. He ruined our lives. So I killed him."

"You-" Andy couldn't breathe. Forget the fact that he had a brother, that brother had just claimed to be a murderer. Dr. Jenning's death had hit Andy hard, hard enough to go running back to Tracy, even after he'd told himself she was better off away from him. Weber had been there, he kinda remembered, but he hadn't been paying attention to anyone but Tracy. "You killed…"

"Had him take that useless piece of shit in the sports shop with him. Our father, or so Mom thought. The whore didn't even know for sure."

This went so beyond not being able to breathe. Andy just flat out couldn't understand. But his subconscious and his mouth seemed to be doing a hell of a lot better than his brain. "What- our father… our mother?"

"I killed her too." A maniacal grin spread across his face as he leaned leisurely against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle, like they were having a freakin' family reunion and it was just another evening in the whatever-their-last-name-would-be household. "Lit her up like a bonfire. Well, she did the hard part. All I had to do was give her a little nudge."

"Oh my god…" Andy remembered hearing about the woman who had set herself on fire at a gas station just down the road from here. But he hadn't- he didn't know anything about her. And he'd been pretty torn up about Dr. Jennings already. "You killed them. You- why?"

Weber frowned again, that agitation coming back. "Because they split us up, Andy. They ruined our lives!"

"So you killed them?!" It was Andy's turn to throw his arms up, staring wide-eyed at this clearly unstable man claiming to be his brother. Andy even believed him, but that didn't make him any less crazy. "Weber, you don't just kill people!"

His brother's hand tightened around the hilt of the knife, and Andy backed off, realizing this was not the kind of person – the kind of situation – he wanted to push.

"Look…just, let Tracy go, okay, man?" He glanced at his friend, who was shaking in her chair but hadn't moved. Hadn't even tried to get away. Weber must have told her to stay put. "She doesn't have anything to do with this. This is- this is fam-family stuff, yeah?"

Weber eyed him, like he was trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Finally, the wacko settled again, leaning back against the counter. "I didn't want it to be like this, Andy. If it had been up to me, she'd have thrown herself off the dam and you'd never even know she was gone."

Tracy sobbed, and Weber snapped at her. "What did I tell you about crying?"

"Stop!" Andy raised his hands, both furious and terrified all at one. "Don't talk to her like that. Please. Just let her go."

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," Weber said instead, almost pleadingly, like he wanted Andy to understand. Only Andy really, really didn't. "I would have gotten them all out of the way, it could have just been us, and you wouldn't have known. But he wouldn't let me! He said you needed to be strong, too."

"He?"

"The yellow-eyed man."

Andy couldn't help it. He knew he shouldn't, knew whatever this was, it was balanced on a knife's edge (literally). But this guy was crazy. "You're- you're insane."

Weber's eyes darkened, and he pushed off the counter. Andy took a step back. "No. I'm not. He came to me in a dream. He came to me a dozen times! He said I had to prove myself. He said if we wanted to win, we had to prove ourselves. And this is how."

He grabbed the blade of the knife and flipped it around, holding the hilt out to Andy, who stared at it, dumbfounded.

"Kill her, Andy. You don't need her. All you need is me."

His eye snapped to his brother's, and it was official. He was insane. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, man. You gotta do this."

"No!"

"She's garbage!" Weber gestured to Tracy with his free hand and she flinched violently. Andy clenched his fists, hating the fear in her eyes, the red of her cheeks and the drying tracks from her tears. "They all are, man! We can push them, we can make them do whatever we want! We don't need any of them!"

And just shook his head, well and truly stunned. "You- you can't be this stupid."

Weber pulled up short, obviously not expecting that as one of the multitude of responses Andy could have gone with.

"You find out you have a brother and you- you-" Andy shook his head again. "You call them up! You go for a drink! You don't kill people!"

"I know it's all wrong, but don't be mad at me, okay?" Weber shrugged helplessly, a pleading look on his face that Andy wanted to punch right off. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, bro. But he didn't let me."

"The yellow-eyed man." His brother nodded and Andy just shook. "Weber, you sound crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" he yelled back, furious. Then something smoothed out on his face, and Andy knew he'd lost him. Weber shook the knife, a clear indication for Andy to take it. "And I'm not waiting anymore. Take it, Andy, or she'll do it for you. Won't you Trace?"

Beside him, Tracy nodded, fresh tears spilling down as she gasped for air.

With a painful swallow, Andy reached out and took the knife. He tried, one more time, to reason with a madman, stalling desperately for time. "She isn't part of this. Please, please just…just let her go, Weber. B-bro. Please."

For a moment, Weber only stared at him and Andy thought, maybe. Maybe he'd gotten through.

"No," his brother said, voice as serious as he'd ever heard the man he barely knew. But there was a smile on his face. It was almost a sympathetic one. It just made Andy sick to his stomach. "I know you better than that, man. You'll never be with me while she's in the way."

"Stop it," Andy commanded, voice deepening, pulling from that power deep inside of him that he'd always felt but honest-to-God ignored whenever it really mattered. He pointed the tip of the knife at his brother, hand shaking, but prepared to use it.

Weber's smile turned bitter, not surprised in the least. And he didn't listen. "Our powers don't work on each other, Andy."

Andy sagged, knife falling to his side. "Please, Weber, this is insane. I'm not going to kill her, she's my friend!"

His twin's smile faded into something a lot darker. "Fine. Tracy, do it."

"No!" Andy screamed as she didn't hesitate, opening the drawer closest to her and pulling out a second knife. She raised it to plunge into her own gut and Andy threw his hands out. "Tracy, stop. Stop it!"

Her arms shook, knife poised out in front of her, but she didn't move. She listened. Her whole body trembled with exertion, her cheeks grew red and puffy, and Andy strained with everything he was as he waited for the balance to tip.

"Put it down, Trace."

"Heh." Webber pushed off the counter, that sympathetic smile slapped back on his face. Tracy didn't put the knife down, but her arms shook harder. "Not bad, bro. But I'm stronger than you. I've been practicing."

He turned his head to look straight at Tracy, something evil in his eye that contorted his whole face. She couldn't help but stare at him, eyes widening. His mouth never moved, he didn't say a word, but Tracy's lip trembled, she sobbed, and her arm twitched.

"Weber, don't-!"

Tracy cried out as she thrust the knife down. Andy stumbled back, red splashed everywhere as she pulled the blade out and plunged it back in, again, and again, and again. She was screaming.

"No!" He ran forward, catching her as she slumped in the chair, the two of them falling to the ground. There was blood everywhere- oh god, there was so much blood. Tracy was still trying to raise and lower the knife in an ever-weakening and ashen hand. Andy grabbed onto her wrist, pinning it to her side. It wasn't hard; she didn't have much left in her. "Tracy, Tracy, oh god, stay with me. Please! You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna- I'm gonna get help."

Her lips were moving, but nothing came out, and Andy cupped her cheek with shaking, bloody fingers.

"I can teach you, Andy," Weber was saying, standing over them as he watched the light fade from Tacy's eyes. "I'll teach you how to be strong. We'll do it together, we'll take everyone else out. We'll start with Sam Winchester. He's the one to get, the yellow-eyed man said so. He won't stand a chance against us, bro."

Andy lowered Tracy, his friend, his love, to the ground. Her eyes were still wide with terror but lifeless now. He reached up and closed them, leaving behind streaks of red on her pale, pale skin. He sat there, on his knees, covered in her blood, and couldn't understand what just happened.

"You're insane," he whispered, and reached out to take the knife from Tracy's limp hand. He stood, turned to his brother, and said it again, anger taking over. "You're insane."

Weber eyed the knife with a flicker of worry, but smiled that sympathetic smile again. Andy was going to cut it off his face, this time. "I'm your brother, Andy. Family. You're not gonna hurt me. Besides, I told you; I'm stronger than you."

Maybe that was true, but he sure as hell wasn't stronger than a knife.

By the time Andy came back to himself, he was still screaming, over and over and over. Like Tracy had been before she went silent forever. His throat was raw and he had even more blood on him. Weber was dead, knife sticking clear out of his chest, and Andy couldn't stop shaking.

He had to run. He knew he had to run. Tracy was dead because of him and he couldn't stay here.

Andy sunk to the floor, suddenly alone in the all-consuming dark. The smell of blood was thick. It was all around him. On him, on his skin, in his mouth. He could feel it on his hands, slick and warm, and oh god, he was going to be sick.

The sound of someone clapping snapped his head up so fast, Andy got dizzy and had to breathe through the spell. But he stumbled to his feet as soon as he could, back in the coffee shop as the darkness retreated. There was still blood everywhere, but Tracy… Tracy was gone. No body. No Weber. Just puddles and puddles of red.

What was happening? Was he losing his mind?

"Well, well, well." Andy startled, fumbling back as a man stepped from the shadows of the kitchen door, a grin stretched across his face and pale, yellow eyes staring him down. Oh, god, he had gone crazy. As crazy as Weber. "Looks like I put my money on the wrong brother."

"Who- what-" He stumbled back another couple steps, keeping distance between him and the man who couldn't be here, who couldn't even be real. This couldn't be real, he thought, the part of him that was fascinated with philosophy and thought and mind trying desperately to kick into gear over the panic and fear. "This- this isn't real."

"Nope," the man said, popping that last syllable. "Well, murdering your own brother after he killed your girlfriend was. But this is just a bad memory. Gotta tell you, kid, that was something else."

"He- he wasn't my brother," Andy managed to get out, but really, that was hardly the important part. "I- it was- it was self-defense."

Why was he explaining himself to a delusion?

"Regardless." The yellow-eyed man came to a stop at the closest puddle of blood, looking down at it with an analytical eye and absolutely no emotion. "I could use that fratricidal nature, tiger."

"Use… what?" God, Andy really wanted to run, to wake up and find none of this was real. But he knew that it was, at least parts of it. Maybe not the man in front of him, but the blood on the floor. That part was real, no matter how much he wished it wasn't.

The yellow-eyed man leaned against the counter where Weber had, only moments ago. He even crossed his ankles, folded his arms over his chest. Another family reunion. Andy was shaking again. "There's a war coming, kiddo. Didn't your brother tell you? I need soldiers, and you're showing real promise."

"You're- you're not real."

"Not in here, no." The man shrugged one shoulder, and Andy wanted to shake him. To tell him that this, all of this, was terrible, and he ought to be as messed up as Andy. But that seemed like a really bad idea, and Andy just wanted to wake up.

Weber had said this man came to him in a dream. Which meant he was dreaming.

"I need to wake up," he mumbled, and slapped himself across the face as hard as he could. God, it stung. Tracy's blood was smeared across his cheek now. The yellow-eyed man laughed.

"You've got spunk, kid. Way more potential than I pegged you for." He pushed off the counter with a wide smile. Like a shark, Andy thought. "All we gotta do is toughen you up."

Andy scrambled backwards until he hit the kitchen wall. He had to wake up now.

"Andy!"

His head snapped to the side as someone called his name. It didn't sound like it was coming from the shop. Maybe outside? The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Andy, man, wake up!"

He heard it again, from the other side now. A different voice, but one he placed a little faster. "Dean?"

The man – Azazel, he remembered now – was suddenly in front of him and Andy caught his breath, flattening his body against the wall. Those pale yellow eyes regarded him carefully, suspiciously, and he found himself swallowing past the lump of fear in his throat.

"Someone calling you, kiddo?" Yellow Eyes tilted his head to the side, as if he was listening, and Andy was suddenly terrified that he would hear it too.

"Nope. N-Not at all. You know, I-I, uh, I should really go now."

Cold fingers wrapped around his jaw and cheek like a snake strike, and Andy cried out instinctually, flinching away with nowhere to go. The demon was close enough for Andy to feel hot breath on his skin.

This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.

"Tell me, Tiger, where are you right now?"

-o-o-o-

He woke up screaming and, apparently, swinging.

Sam took one right to the face. Dean was lucky enough that when the kid came to yelling 'Get off me!' his powers meant Dean was halfway across the room before he could stop himself. Which is probably how Sam took one right in the face. But they got him lucid pretty quickly, even if he couldn't catch his breath for several minutes and ending up emptying his stomach just as soon as he had enough air to do it. Lucky for him, bad nights were a Winchester standard. Dean had already been ready with a bucket.

The ice bucket, it turned out, because they were in a motel, far, far away from Tracy's coffee shop.

"You were having a nightmare," Sam offered when Andy's chest and stomach had stopped heaving.

"No kidding," he gasped out, wiping his mouth with the wet washcloth Dean offered. He wondered if they'd heard him, given how raw his throat felt, or just stumbled on in when they'd come to collect him since it was, apparently, morning. Funny, it didn't feel like he'd slept a wink. "Some nightmare. No wonder Weber lost it."

Sam frowned, glancing over at his brother worriedly, but they didn't push. They apparently had an unspoken rule, and Andy didn't know if he was thankful for that or not.

-o-o-o-

Andy got in the shower while the boys got the Impala packed up. He'd actually been in the shower for over fifteen minutes already and Sam and Dean were just stalling by that point, but neither had any plans to call him out on it. That nightmare had looked like a bad one, and with what the kid had just gone through? There were horror movies with happier endings.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Dean angled his head at Sam's question. His brother was leaning against the driver's side door while the older Winchester did some putzing under the hood. Just checking up on his Baby while they had the time. "I'm not against it, but he doesn't know the first thing about hunting. Or this life. You really thinking dragging him along is the right call?"

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and closed the hood. "No," he answered honestly, "but he's a part of it now, whether he likes it or not. He wants to opt out, that's fine. We'll get him setup somewhere, teach him the basics of staying safe. But it's not gonna save him, and we both know it."

Sam stared down at the ground, moose-brow furled morosely. "Was he part of the battle royale?"

The older Winchester came around the side of the car and propped himself up a foot or so from Sam. He cleared his throat, eyes off to the side, watching the cars pass by on the main road. "I don't know. I wasn't there and after…. There was enough going on that we never really talked about it."

Because he'd been dead, Sam thought. Yeah, that would have kept him pretty occupied, he figured.

"You never told me names," Dean continued, crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning back against his beloved car, arms crossed. Trying to keep it casual, despite the somber topic. "But you said it was all of Azazel's kids, spread out over weeks. And only one got to walk away. So yeah, pretty sure old Yellow Eyes isn't gonna let Andy out of this one."

Sam kicked at a loose pebble, watching it scatter. "His best bet is with us."

Dean shrugged, but it was obviously the same conclusion he'd already come to. "Azazel nabs either of you, Cold Oak is the first place I'm heading. We'll only get there faster if we know he's missing."

Honestly, Dean hadn't yet come up with a plan to avoid that scenario entirely, though it was on his mind almost every day now. Sam's death date was most of a year away, but he didn't trust Hell to stick to the schedule anymore. They sure as hell hadn't with Dad.

So, Plan B was to head to Cold Oak if Sam went missing. Andy too, now that he was with them. If he chose to stay, of course. But Dean needed a plan A. He and Bobby were already working on one, though at the moment he sure hoped the gruff old hunter was doing better at it than him.

"Alright," Sam conceded, though it hadn't ever been an argument or even a debate. He didn't mind Andy joining them, though it would be weird to have a third person who wasn't Cas (it was still pretty weird when it was Cas). "We'll keep him safe. He doesn't have to hunt if he doesn't want to, though."

"Sure," Dean agreed, because making someone hunt, or even feel like they had to be part of the life with no other choice, was not something he ever planned to force on anyone. He'd grown up like that – seen what it did to someone like Sam, saw what it could have done to Ben, what it did do to Claire – and had promised he'd never be like his own dad. He'd never do that to anyone. "Although, it would be pretty handy, having a Jedi on the team."

Sam just pulled a mild bitchface and pushed off the car. He headed back into the room. Dean thought maybe the water had shut off by then. He couldn't hear it, but then again, he hadn't really been able to hear it running, either.

The truth was, Dean had another reason for wanting Andy along, even though it went against the timeline, and Cas would probably lecture the crap out of him once they found out (Bobby too, most likely). Last time, they hadn't exactly done right by the kid. Andy hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't asked for what happened to him or his powers, and hadn't even misused them. The Winchesters just hadn't been in a great position to take on a passenger, and they'd had no clue what they were leaving him behind to face alone. At the time, they knew he'd have to figure his life out, and the best they could do to help him there was offer a number to call if he needed them.

But now Dean did know what was coming, and he couldn't just leave Andy on his own, at the mercy of Azazel, to eventually be thrown into a fight for his life with no warning and no training. No, they could do better by him this time. What was the point of time-travel, of having to relive all of this crap all over again, if he couldn't do it better?

Plus, it really, really wouldn't hurt to have a Jedi on their side.

-o-o-o-

"So, you wanna talk about it?"

They were back in the car and Dean was driving again. Hunting was actually a lot more driving than the title suggested. They were headed to a town outside Nashville. Apparently, there'd been reports of ghost activity around the area, and some woman named Ellen tipped them off about it. One hunter had already tackled the case and gotten himself laid up with a broken leg and a nasty concussion for his trouble, so she was calling in the cavalry.

"No," Andy answered, maybe a little too quickly and a little too grumpy. Dean's voice had been light, if somewhat forced, and Andy didn't think either of them would push the issue. Even if they probably should. He cleared his throat from the back seat, wrapped his arms around himself and pressed his knees against the seat in front of him. "Maybe later?"

These guys were just trying to help. And if that dream had been real, if that man really was a demon showing up in his dreams to try and… what? Talk him into being a murdering psychopath like Weber? Well…if that was his goal, Andy should definitely tell the Winchesters about it.

Just, how did he do it without bringing up all the rest of it? He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to be dreaming about it. Didn't want to be sleeping at all.

"Ball's in your court, kid," Dean answered easily enough, and that was that.

-o-o-o-

Less than an hour down the road, Andy was playing around with how to bring it up.

'So, you know that yellow-eyed guy you mentioned? The demon?'

No, too casual.

'Azazel visited me last night.'

Okay, too far in the other direction. And sounded like a bad Jesus Freak promo. Only, well, this was apparently the opposite of divine intervention.

'So, a yellow-eyed demon walks into a coffee shop…'

"Hello, Dean. Sam."

Andy screamed.

The younger Winchester, who was driving for once, almost crashed the car into oncoming traffic at the sudden fourth presence in the back seat. Andy kicked at the figure who had freaking appeared out of nowhere, shoving himself across the seat and into the door. She – and it was a woman, despite the deep, gravelly voice – didn't even move. Her head turned like a god damn owl to take him in with a curious blink and a head tilt.

Dean, who had a lot more experience with randomly appearing angels in the back seat of the Impala, jerked his head over his shoulder to glare at their new guest as Sam managed to correct the car and not kill them all. They pulled over, vehicles blasting past them, horns blaring. "Jesus, Cas, give us some warning or something! Do we need to get you a bell?"

The woman (and how the hell was everyone so calm?!) turned stiffly to the hunter in the passenger seat, a little frown pulling at her eyebrows. "Bobby Singer made a similar threat. What would be the purpose of wearing such an instrument?"

"Who are you?!" Andy didn't mean to use his power – or sound quite so hysterical – but he was freaking the hell out back here! Did no one else care that a woman had just popped into existence in their car?!

The lady looked his way again, tilting her head to the side. Like a bird. A bird with big blue eyes that didn't blink nearly as often as they should. "Interesting. You are one of the children infected with demon blood."

Andy sputtered, mind both terrified and blown. Jeez, how many people was he going to run into that his powers didn't work on?

"Your abilities would have to be much stronger to affect me," the woman said, as if reading his mind.

In the driver's seat, Sam's eyebrows went up and he turned to look at the angel directly, now that they were safely pulled over, engine off. "They could affect you?"

"In theory," Cas answered, and Andy was still trying to get further away than was physically possible in the muscle car. "If you were to ingest the amount of demon blood you were drinking at the peak of Dean's notes, then yes. I believe you could contend with a lower angel."

Not that Andy understood half that (and god, the half he did understand he really wished he didn't. When had his life gotten so out of control?) but Sam blanched whiter than rice, and Andy found himself wishing he understood none of it. Or wasn't in the car at all. Or part of this insane duo. Well, hell, trio now.

Was it too late to back out?

"I'm sorry, who the hell are you?!"

-o-o-o-

"Angels. Angels." Andy was pacing at the gas station they'd pulled over at. Sam was filling up the tank and Dean had dragged Cas into the store for refreshments and microwaved burritos ('People practice, Cas. You need it.') Andy spun on Sam. "Angels are real, you guys have one on speed dial, and you didn't think to mention that?!"

Sam just shrugged apologetically. He was pretty sure Dean had mentioned it about the same time he'd mentioned being from the future. Not that Andy had been in any shape to hear – let alone process or believe – any of that.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm still getting used to it too."

"No, that doesn't make me feel better! It makes me feel worse!" Andy grabbed at his head. "Jesus, I'm an atheist!"

Sam winced, offering a sympathetic smile. "Dean was, too. Uh…actually, pretty sure he still is."

"He has an angel as a best friend, and you're telling me he doesn't believe in God?"

"Erm…" Sam just shrugged again. "Pretty sure knowing something exists and believing in it are two very different things for my brother."

"You're so not helping." Andy groaned, and the thunk of his head hitting the roof of the Impala was not nearly as soothing as he needed it to be. "You all are crazy. And now I'm crazy too."

Sam patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and put the nozzle back on the pump.

"Welcome to the club."

-o-o-o-

They got back in the car, Dean driving this time, and resumed their trek for a Tennessean ghost. Andy was in the back seat with a freaking angel, who he couldn't stop staring at.

"You look human." He didn't mean to blurt it out, but, well, he'd never been great with holding back even before he got magical powers of speech added on top.

Castiel regarded him without offense. "I am possessing a human vessel. Angels can operate on Earth without one, but few humans can view our true form or hear our voice without taking damage."

"The prophets." Andy nodded absently; that made sense. But he caught the surprised looks the Winchesters sent his way. "What? I grew up in the Bible belt, guys. Sunday school was less optional than actual school."

And also the leading factor of a twelve-year-old Andy deciding a lack of belief was more morally defensible than false belief used only to justify self-interest. The pastor at the church his father dragged him to every Sunday had looked at him long and hard when he'd announced it (loudly) the last time he'd ever gone to service. The man of God bent down, put a hand on his shoulder, told him to believe what was in his heart, and had he ever heard of a philosopher named Marcus Aurelius.

"Um…I'm twelve," an overly confident and often contemptuous child had answered back. It would be several years before he learned that arrogance and intelligence hand-in-hand usually landed him in the dumpster behind the school gym. At the time, the pastor just laughed.

"You should look into him," he'd said with a wink. "I think he's right up your alley."

Turned out, the pastor hadn't been wrong. Though, personally, Andy preferred turn-of-the-century German philosophers, more of late.

"You are correct," Cas stated, continuing their conversation as if the Winchesters had not interrupted. "The prophets were, indeed, unique individuals able to perceive an angel's true form. I would have thought Sam and Dean, with their destinies, would also be among such men. But Dean has assured me they are not."

"You almost blew out my ear drums the first time we met, Cas." It was not the only time Dean had said as much, though it was news to Andy. "We're sticking with vessels this time."

"Angela is a devout woman," Cas continued, blue eyes still locked on the man sitting beside her, who was kind of enjoying the way she didn't rise to any of Dean's goading but flat-out ignored him instead. It looked like it was ruffling his feathers, so to speak. Andy would have to remember that. "She offered her body in service against the coming apocalypse."

"Uh-huh." Andy frowned, looking at the woman, then the brothers. Dean didn't seem to care so much that their angel buddy was possessing a human, Sam at least looked regretful. Andy figured he didn't have any right to judge someone else's sacrifices, particularly as he was known for not giving people that choice to begin with. At least, not for the last year.

Tracy's pale, blood smeared face flashed across his mind and he flinched, pushing the thought back as quickly and viciously as it had come forward.

"So, you sticking around, Cas?" Dean raised his eyes to the mirror and the angel in the backseat. Subtle change of topic: check. Although Andy could admit he was grateful for it, and for Dean's tact. "We got a ghost in Nashville needs re-deadification."

"That's not a word," Sam and Andy answered at the same time.

"Oh god, now there's two of you," the older hunter groaned. "Don't make me turn this car around, cuz I will."

"That would make reaching Nashville difficult indeed."

Andy stared at the woman in the backseat with him. Huh. Angels with sarcasm, whadya know. Dean, meanwhile, was glaring at her in the mirror.

"Don't make me add you to the list of reasons Cas." He looked back at the road, seemed to think better of it, and was back to glaring at the mirror again. "And don't play dumb, I know devil lady's in there feeding you all this."

"Would 'angel lady' not be a more apt name?" Cas asked, even as Andy tried to figure out who Dean was talking about. But after a pause, Dean muttering that no, absolutely not, that would not be a 'more apt' name, Castiel added, "Angela prefers 'Dragon Lady.'"

The older Winchester rolled his eyes hard enough Andy might have warned him about them getting stuck that way, but he was too busy staring at Cas with wide eyes.

"Wait," he blurted out unintentionally for the second time in less than ten minutes, "there's a person in there?!"

-o-o-o-

Dragon Lady, indeed.

Once Cas and Angela were done lecturing him (my god, he was getting lectured by an angel), Andy sort of just sat, stunned in the backseat. Not that they'd really lectured him. Well, Cas had sort of lectured him, but it hadn't been like a mom lecture (and the parts of it that had were definitely coming from Angela). No, it had been more of the droning monologue variety, the subject matter being the subtle but numerously intricate differences of the conscious mind versus the unconscious mind, delivered by a professor who only spoke in monotone to a class of mostly asleep students at eight in the morning. Andy hadn't really done the whole college thing, but he was pretty sure Cas just summed the entire experience up for him in seven and a half minutes.

Angela interjected every so often. Andy could tell, because Castiel would use air quotes anytime she did. An angel with sarcasm and air quotes. Good God, maybe he'd been missing out on this whole religion thing, after all.

The short answer, delivered after the long answer, was no, Cas could not stay long or join them for the hunt. She was merely checking in while she had the time to do so. Dean tried to hide his disappointment, but Andy picked up on it easily enough (he wasn't exactly good at hiding it, after all), and glanced between the two of them. Cas seemed aware of it as well, though took careful steps to avoid addressing it.

Good god.

An angel and a human with- with- was that unresolved sexual tension Andy spotted?

Oh, this kept getting better and better (and less and less believable). Well, okay, one-sided sexual tension, as far as Andy could tell. Cas's face didn't really, uh, give away much. Or move. Like at all. But Dean's sure did. That might even make it better. Very teenage drama, very One Tree Hill. They even had a pair of brothers and everything.

(He had not watched that show voluntarily. It was just one of Tracy's favorites, and she'd dragged him to her house every day after school. In no way ever, on pain of death, would he own up to watching it even after he stopped going over to her house. Nope, no way, you couldn't make him, no amount of money, fine, alright, okay it was a guilty pleasure. Happy? Now shut up.)

Oh yeah, he thought, glancing back and forth between hunter and angel. He'd definitely been missing out on this whole religion thing.

"How's it going up there?" Sam turned in the passenger seat, side-tracking Andy's thoughts.

"Up where?" he wondered aloud, though he already could tell no one was going to answer him.

"Better. It is…comforting to have an ally."

Andy frowned, wondering what they were talking about.

"Yeah, you said you'd spoken to one of your brothers about…everything. That's, uh, going okay?" Sam glanced over at Dean, who was suddenly tight-lipped and ignoring the conversation like it was an Olympic sport.

Andy frowned further as the plot of their teenage drama thickened. Love triangle perhaps? Those were always big on that caliber of crap television. Sam had mentioned a brother, though. Incest was probably a bit much. Family drama, of course, was always a solid go-to. Possible bad guy, then, getting in the way? Unlikely, he supposed, since a brother to Cas meant another angel.

At least Andy knew what they were talking about now. Which probably meant 'up there' was Heaven. Yeah, he should have figured that one out sooner. Again, atheist. He wasn't used to thinking about things like Heaven as actual locations one could visit. Or worry about.

Speaking of, why, exactly, were the Winchesters worried about Heaven? Shouldn't Paradise come with, you know, no worries?

"Yes," Cas answered the brunet, a tiny smile just in the corner of her mouth. Andy thought it look a little out of place: unpracticed, maybe. "It is going well, Sam, you needn't worry."

The younger Winchester settled back in the front seat, easy as that. Even Dean seemed to relax a fraction, although Andy suspected that had more to do with the conversation moving on than Castiel's reassurances. Still, he sat in the back and watched the three of them interact, forming his own theories (which, albeit, probably had a touch too much trash TV influencing them), since no one seemed very willing to discuss the realities of his – or their – situation with him.

-o-o-o-

Cas rode with them for another hour before announcing, rather abruptly and in the middle of Sam and Dean bickering about what constituted good music ('I'm just saying, maybe, just once, we could listen to something recorded this century, Dean'), that she needed to return.

"Yeah, alright. Thanks for checking in," Dean said, somewhat grumpily. He really didn't seem too happy about Cas taking back off for Heaven, which was ringing all sorts of alarm bells for Andy. But, then again, that could just be the teenage love angst talking (who was he kidding, he'd watched Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars all on his own, no female influence needed. They were addictive, okay? Plus, the girls were hot. And Sam kind of reminded him of this one character…)

"Good luck, Cas," Sam added, and again, Andy wanted to know why an angel needed luck in Heaven.

Castiel leaned forward ever so slightly, then paused, before a little chime like a clerk's desk bell went off inside the car.

"What the hell-"

The angel was gone, leaving Andy staring wide-eyed at the now empty space beside him.

"Damnit, Cas, not when you leave!" Dean shouted up at the ceiling. "When you show up!"

Andy wondered, vaguely, if an angel could hear human criticism from Heaven. Sure didn't seem to stop Dean.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/Ns: This is a classic example of how I can never write just one chapter of something. It's always three chapters. Oh, the Andy Episode? Three chapters. Jo episode? Three chapters. Croatoan? Okay, let's not even get into that one. This mother friggin' season's gonna end up being sixty chapters at this rate!

Andy Shipping It: I swear, there will be characters in this story that do not ship Destiel. It's not my fault Bobby and Andy are just the first ones to witness it. Jo won't ship it! Or Ellen, or Ash, or Charl- okay, no, Charlie will totally ship it. Uh... I mean...she will, if, we, er, *cough* get to Season 7. Yup. Totally smooth exit on that one.

Up Next: Andy gets his first taste of a real hunt. Upon further introspection, he decides he's a superhero (because he has a cape), quickly realizes that capes are a terrible idea when his tries to murder him, and ends up telling Sam about his late night visitor after Dean decides rock-paper-scissors is a game for children (I swear this all actually happens, I'm not writing drunk)