Reed stood a few paces away from Sam and Bobby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared at the mangled wreck of the Impala. The sight of it made her stomach churn.

Bobby spoke gently but firmly, his gruff voice tinged with resignation. "Look, Sam. This... this just ain't worth a tow." He shook his head slightly, "I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap."

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she blinked them back furiously.

It seemed ridiculously unfair to her that they'd just somewhat reconnected, and now… this.

She moved closer to Sam, who was pulling the shattered pieces of his laptop from the wreck. His voice was dejected when he huffed out a "No," and shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes. "Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better, he's gonna want to fix this."

And Bobby, not hearing what Sam wasn't saying, argued. "There's nothing to fix." Reed groaned internally as he continued to miss the point. "The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined." He sighed, running a hand over his beard. "There's barely any parts worth salvaging."

Bobby seemed to finally understand when Sam, quietly but forcefully said, "Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough." Reed reached out a silent, supportive hand, giving Sam's arm a squeeze just above the elbow as he trailed off. "We're not just going to give up on..."

"Of course we're not, Sam," Reed interjected, her voice soft but firm. She looked pointedly at Bobby, who gave a quick nod of understanding.

Somewhat appeased, Sam moved on to some list of ingredients John needed for protection, and Reed tried really hard to contain her scoff. Trust John Winchester to get so deeply embroiled in danger beyond his understanding that he was an inch from losing one of his sons.

But what gave her pause was Bobby's frown as he read through the list. She moved back around to this side of the car, reading the list over his shoulder. Suddenly the frown made sense. Acacia and Oil of Abramelin were definitely not ingredients used for protection.

Obviously noticing their matching frowns, Sam spoke up with a curt, "What?"

After thinking for a moment, Bobby shook his head and tried to deflect, but Sam wasn't having it. Whatever John was planning, it obviously wasn't protection, but did Sam need to know that when he was so clearly worried about his brother?

Before Bobby could decide whether or not to spill the beans, she decided to make her exit. Quickly making her way back around the wreckage of the Impala, she tugged on Sam's sleeve and pulled him down into a firm hug. He really had turned into a giant.

"You need anything," she whispered, "anything at all, you call me, you hear." She pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in his eyes, and said again. "Anything." He gave her a weak smile and a nod, and she let him go.

She needed to go see Dean, reassure herself that he was still fighting. She might not have seen either of them in over a decade, but they still felt like her annoying little brothers. She just needed to see him.

So she did.

And when the sterile smell of the hospital hit her as she entered Dean's room, the steady beep of the heart monitor creating a background noise that was both comforting and unsettling, she was entirely unsure if it had been the right idea.

She approached the bed slowly, her eyes taking in Dean's battered form. "Hey champ," she said softly, remembering fondly how much he had hated being reminded that she was older than him.

"You look terrible," she said, gently taking his hand, smiling mirthlessly to herself.

She sat in silence for a moment, her thumb absently tracing circles on the back of Dean's hand, and sighed. "You're really in it this time, huh?"

Briefly, she considered checking in on John, almost immediately discarding that idea as terrible and stupid. Instead, she stayed with Dean for another 20 minutes, replaying memories from their childhood in her mind and quietly praying that they would get to make some new ones.

•๑ ๑•

Reed stood in Bobby's tiny kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. She was good at soup. Throw some stuff in a pot, boil it, blend it. Voila. Soup.

What she wasn't good at was… whatever was going on now.

John Winchester was dead, and Sam and Dean had been here for a week. Dean was working on Impala, and Sam was trying to get Dean to talk about things. Dean very clearly did not want to talk about things. Sam kept pushing.

Bobby was steering clear, and Reed… Reed was making soup and sandwiches and handing out beers. In the days after they had arrived, Reed had fallen into a rhythm. She'd spend hours sitting on an overturned bucket next to the Impala, silently passing tools to Dean as he worked. Bobby had taught her everything he knew about cars, so she understood what Dean was doing without needing explanations. The comfortable silence between them was punctuated only by the clink of metal and the occasional request for a different wrench.

When she wasn't with Dean, Reed found herself in the study with Sam. Sometimes they'd talk about their shared childhood memories - summers spent at Bobby's, learning to shoot cans off fence posts, or the time Dean had tried to convince them both that the salvage yard was haunted. Other times, Sam would open up about Stanford, and Jess, his girlfriend, but always briefly, glossing over what was clearly a deep well of pain.

During quiet moments, Reed would share stories of her own hunts with Dean. She'd started later than most - Bobby had insisted she finish school first, keeping her away from active hunting until she was 19. But he couldn't keep her from research, and she'd devoured every book and scrap of lore she could get her hands on. Now, she told Dean about the vengeful spirit in Rapid City, or the particularly tricky skinwalker case in Wyoming.

As the days passed, Reed's heart ached for both of them. She saw the pain Dean was doing his best not to show as he buried himself in fixing the Impala, and the frustration in Sam's eyes as he tried to get his brother to open up. But Reed knew better than to push. Instead, she remained a constant, supportive presence, always ready with a cold beer, a warm meal, or just a comforting silence.

Now, she was making soup.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the scrapyard, and Dean was still outside somewhere. Dishing up a bowl of soup, Reed headed to find him, expecting him to still be under the Impala. Instead, he was just sitting on the hood of a junker, staring off into the distance. Without a word, she handed him the bowl of soup and climbed up next to him, their shoulders just barely touching. He took it with a nod, but didn't say anything. She didn't speak either, didn't ask if he was okay or try to get him to talk. She just sat there quietly while he stared into the distance and ate his soup.

After what felt like hours, Dean's gruff voice broke the silence. "Thanks, Reed," he muttered, not looking at her. Reed just nodded, knowing he didn't need to elaborate. She understood.

As night fell, they made their way back to the house. The smell of Bobby's chili wafted out to greet them, and for a moment, it felt almost normal. Like they were kids again, coming in from a day of play to a warm meal and the gruff affection of their surrogate father.

Bumping Dean's shoulder with her own as they made their way into the house, she said a silent thank you to whatever Gods were listening that he was actually okay, and that they might have a chance of rebuilding whatever relationship they'd had when they were kids.

She couldn't fix what was broken, couldn't make up for lost time, but she could be there, passing tools, sharing memories, and making soup.

Sometimes, that was enough.

When they eventually hit the road again, Reed hugged them both tightly and made each of them promise to keep in touch.

•๑ ๑•

Reed was half asleep on one of the most uncomfortable motel beds she'd ever encountered, still fully dressed in jeans and hoodie. No matter how often she stayed in dingy motels, they still kind of grossed her out. She was pulled from her snooze by the incessant ringing of her cellphone, and she briefly considered ignoring it before thinking better of it and answering.

Good thing, too, because it was Bobby, and he would be pissed if she missed a call.

"Hey girl, where are you?" he asked gruffly.

"Some terrible motel in Brandon," Reed mumbled, sitting up. "I was on my way back but I was falling asleep behind the wheel. Why?" she asked suspiciously, "is everything okay?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Reed frowned. So, that was a no.

"Everything's fine," Bobby said, and his even tone would probably be convincing to anyone who hadn't lived with him for the better part of two decades. "Just... just wait for me to call before you head home."

Reed's frown deepened and she pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes tightly. "So obviously everything's not fine." She waited for him to elaborate on just how not fine things were, but he didn't.

"Well, it will be fine," he grumbled. "Nothing for you to worry about."

She sighed and shook her head, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "Really?"

Bobby didn't hesitate. "Really," he said firmly. "Don't worry, I'll call you as soon as we've got this all cleared up."

That caught Reed's attention and she sat up straighter. "Wait, who's 'we'?"

She heard him sigh, knowing he'd slipped up. "Sam and Dean. But really, it's nothing to worry about. You just keep yourself busy until I call."

Reed sighed again and shook her head, hoping the frustration in her voice wasn't as clear as it felt. "Fine, fine. But I expect an explanation when I get home." She also hoped that whatever was happening wouldn't take too long, because she didn't particularly feel like spending more time in this crap motel than she had to.

Bobby chuckled, a hint of affection in his gruff tone. "You got it."

As Reed hung up, she flopped back down on the uncomfortable bed, the chance of sleep now a distant dream. Despite Bobby's assurances, she couldn't help but worry about whatever it was that the Winchesters had gotten themselves into this time. Clearly they were incapable of staying out of trouble, and the thought of them back at Bobby's, dealing with who-knows-what while she was stuck in this lousy motel, made her feel both anxious and slightly guilty.

But she knew better than to disobey Bobby's very clear instructions. Whatever was going on, she'd just have to wait it out and hope that everyone stayed safe until she could get back home.

She eventually managed to fall into a fitful, disrupted sleep, her dreams filled with black eyes and blood.

•๑ ๑•

A FEW DAYS LATER

Reed was laughing to herself as drove to Crawford Hall, though she wasn't really all that amused. It hadn't even been a week since Sam's… incident… with the demon and they were already in trouble again.

They'd called Bobby about something they didn't want to discuss over the phone, and she'd decided to go through with him - to get out of the house for a bit, and for a chance to see Sam and Dean again. They were idiots, but she was finding that she had missed them terribly in the decade that they'd been apart.

As soon as she and Bobby had arrived, it was clear that something was up. The brothers were tense, snippy and basically just bickering like an old married couple. Also, living like slobs.

After a quick hug hello, they'd launch straight into the details of the case and she and Bobby had exchanged knowing looks. From what they were describing, and the way they were behaving, it was pretty clear to both of them that they were dealing with a trickster. And Reed was fascinated.

She'd never encountered one before, though she knew all about them.

So while Sam and Dean had continued regaling Bobby with their tales of woe, she'd headed out to Crawford to see what she could see.

She parked the car and headed into the building, grateful that it was still early enough in the day that the building was unlocked.

After poking her head into a few rooms and aimlessly wandering the halls, not really seeing anyone or anything of interest, she was about to call it quits and head back to the motel when she rounded a corner and collided with a uniformed man pushing a janitor's cart.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stuttered in her chest.

The janitor froze, his golden eyes widening for a split second before he masterfully schooled his features into a casual grin. "Whoa there, sweetheart! You ought to watch where you're going," he said jovially, reaching out to steady her.

Reed was rooted to the spot, but had the wherewithal to lean away from his touch.

She wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing, and while she consciously knew that she must look like a slack-jawed idiot, she couldn't seem to control her reactions.

The janitor was a relatively unremarkable man - average height with sandy hair, with hazel eyes and a mischievous smirk. But Reed saw so much more.

Underneath his human form was something of breathtaking, terrifying beauty. A face like lightning, crackling with barely contained power, peered out from behind his mundane features. Eyes that burned like twin infernos seemed to look through her. And wings. Massive golden wings arched from his back, each feather shimmering with an otherworldly light.

He was starting to look slightly confused at her lack of response, and Reed stupidly realized that she'd probably been gaping at him for too long for it to be normal.

"You okay there, sugar?" he asked. His voice was light and teasing, but beneath the casual tone, Reed heard something else - a resonant, multilayered voice that seemed to vibrate through her very bones.

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her eyes darted between his human face and the radiant being of pure light and energy underneath, to the enormous wings, and back to his face.

He took a step closer, a hand moving to reach out to her as if to check that she was okay, his golden wings unfurling slightly, rustling with an energy Reed could feel in her bones. She wanted to run, but found herself rooted to the spot.

The janitor now looked well and truly concerned. She mentally cursed herself and her stupid curiosity and tried vainly to make her brain think of a plausible reason for her slack-jawed staring.

Instead of any number of clever things she could have said, excuses to leave - anything - what came out of her stupid mouth was a weak, ""I... what are you?"

The janitor's golden eyes widened slightly in shock and his wings quickly pulled tight against his back. She couldn't help but flinch at the sudden movement, and all of her muscles tensed, getting ready to run.

Oddly, he seemed to notice the effect he was having on her and quickly schooled his features back their previous look of mild concern. He put his hands up as if in surrender, and took a step back, giving her space.

"Hey, hey, easy there, kiddo," he said, his voice soft and controlled, like he was trying to talk down a frightened animal.

Her eyes continued to dance across him, taking in his face, his wings, his… other form - the one that seemed to shimmer under and over and around his human features. She'd never seen anything like him before, and she couldn't deny her fascination. Her mind was reeling.

"What are you?" she breathed, mind still reeling. She barely even noticed her hand moving, reaching out to touch one of the massive, golden-feathered wings in front of.

The janitor's eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, his carefully constructed facade crumbled. Before her fingers could make contact, he jerked backwards, wings snapping tight against his back. The air crackled with tension, the lights in the room flicker ominously.

"Whoa", he said, holding his hands up again. His voice was strained - an odd combination of awe and alarm. Reed quickly dropped her hand, a blush rising to her cheeks as she backed away, leaving them a good few steps apart.

"Sorry," she mumbled, deeply embarrassed of her mindless behavior. She was a hunter, damnit. She was better than this.

The janitor seemed to have composed himself, and shook his head slightly. "Don't worry about it," he chuckled, though there was no joy in the sound. He glanced around the hallway, and before she could even begin to wonder what he was looking for, he glanced back at her, snapped his fingers - and suddenly they were somewhere else.

She blinked furiously for a second as the world seemed to go in and out of focus, her body feeling oddly like it had been pulled through the eye of the hurricane and then spat out onto a feather bed.

Then the panic set in.

Eyes wide, she looked around at the apartment she was now standing in - dark wooden cabinets, paneled walls and accents of red. Suddenly short of breath, Reed's first thought was, What a horrible apartment to die in, followed immediately by, Bobby is going to fucking kill me.

Clearly the janitor noticed her panic, because he held his hands up again and spoke in a deliberately soft voice. "Hey, hey, easy there. Nobody's gonna hurt you, I promise." He seemed to deliberately fold his wings tight against his back, like he was trying to appear smaller, less intimidating. "We just need to have a quick chat and then you can be on your merry way, promise." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious.

One hand held over her racing heart, she just stared at him in bewilderment.

He motioned to the red armchair in the lounge area, clearly inviting her to have a seat. All she could do was blink at him stupidly. When he again motioned at her to sit down, she gave in, moving slowly towards the chair without taking her eyes off him.

Once she was settled, he pulled one of the white leather chairs away from the small kitchen table - which was laden with treats, she idly noticed - and sat down in front of her.

She continued to watch him warily as he ran his fingers through his hair, looking away from her and seeming oddly frustrated. When, after a few moments of tense silence, he still hadn't spoken, she decided to try and break the silence.

"So…" she started, looking around at the small, unassuming apartment. "Nice place you got here."

He chuckled - a warm sound that seemed to fill the room - but she still didn't look at her. It didn't sound particularly sinister, and while she wasn't particularly happy about the sudden relocation, he seemed pretty adamant about the fact that he wasn't going to hurt her. She wasn't sure why she believed him, but she did.

After another few moments of silence, she tried again. She tried to steady her voice, but it still came out a touch too nervous for her liking when she asked, "You kidnap a lot of random girls from Crawford Hall?"

He chuckled again, and this time he did meet her eyes. There was a hint of something like admiration in his voice when he said, "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

Though he kept his tone light, his face grew serious again. "It's not kidnapping, alright. It's just a quick chat so you and I can get on the same page."

That didn't sound ominous at all.

Reed eyed him warily. "What do you mean get on the same page. Same page about what?"

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. "What do you see when you look at me?" he finally asked, his tone flat.

Huh. She thought about it for a second, struggling to find the words. She opened her mouth to speak and then immediately shut it again, grappling with the concept. She couldn't even begin to fathom how to describe what she saw when she looked at him.

The janitor - or whatever he was - seemed to understand her silence.

"Ah," he said voice still flat, though there was a hint of surprise as well, and something else that she couldn't place. "Well. That certainly is something."

She waited for him to continue, to explain what the fuck was going on, but he didn't. He seemed to be grappling with thoughts of his own.

"So…" she started hesitantly, not entirely sure what to ask, or what to do now that she was sitting in some random apartment with a creature she couldn't even begin to fathom. She looked at the kitchen table again, kind of looking like something out of Hansel and Gretel with all the sweets and treats laid across it.

Eventually she settled on, "So what did we need to get on the same page about?"

He looked at her again, something unreadable in his eyes, and the weight of it made her want to squirm. The intensity didn't fade from his eyes, but she was distracted from it when he eventually said, ""About you forgetting what you saw here today."

She blinked at him stupidly again. "Say what now?"

He leaned back in his chair and sighed, running another frustrated hand through his hair. It was completely mussed now and she noticed that it was become easier to see the person rather than the… other things.

"I didn't want you running off to tell your little hunter buddies that you saw - well, whatever it is you think you saw here today."

Reed's eyes went wide at that, and she felt a fresh wave of nervousness. "How do you know I'm a hunter?"

He leveled her with a look that made her shrink back in her seat slightly - not in fear, but in embarrassment. "Come on, kiddo," he said, giving her an odd smile. "Surely you must have figured some of this out by now."

The gears in her brain felt like they were turning through molasses.

He shook his head at her blank expression and chuckled mirthlessly to himself. "Nevermind, then." He slapped his knees and continued with a light tone, "Any chance I can convince you to forget any of this happened, and you can convince your hunter friends to skip town?"

She frowned at that, but shook her head. None of this was making any sense to her.

"Why do you want my hunter friends to skip town?" she asked pointedly, "they've met you already, and they clearly didn't see what I'm seeing. So what's the big deal?"

He looked chagrined, and she frowned again. Holding up his hands and looking at her earnestly, he carefully said, "Okay. I'm going to tell you some things, but you have to promise me that you're going to hear me out, okay?"

She nodded warily.

Sighing, he began, speaking cautiously. "So those murders your friends are investigating? Those were me." At her sudden look of panic, he leaned forward slightly as though to reassure her, before quickly continuing, "but I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I could nev-" he cut himself off before he could finish and she tried to calm her wildly beating heart.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Promise." He waited a beat, watching her closely to see if she would bolt. His wings seemed to shift uncomfortably, and his body was tense.

"Why are you telling me this?" She finally asked, still wary, but mostly just entirely bewildered.

He chuckled mirthlessly to himself again and shook his head. When he answered, he seemed to be talking to himself more than her. "Isn't that the million dollar question."

"Who are you?" she said suddenly, leaning towards him, "What are you? We thought you were a trickster, but I've never read anything about tricksters having wings."

He chuckled to himself again, and she found her frustration with his evasions was swiftly overpowering her wariness. "Seriously," she huffed. "Can I get some information? You want me to go convince my friends to abandon a hunt, I'm gonna need something from you."

He looked at her again, but his eyes seemed to look right through her. He looked thoughtful for a moment, like he was weighing up his options. Then, his demeanor shifted and he gave her a small, vaguely sad smile.

"Fine," he said evenly. "I'll give you some information. But then I'm going to need you to promise me that you're gonna keep it to yourself." He watched her, waiting, his expression guarded.

She hesitated for just a moment before responding. "Fine," she echoed. "I promise."

His eyes searched her face for a second before he sighed again, the movement causing his massive wings to shift behind him, catching every glimmer of light.

Then he began.

"Who am I? I've gone by many names over the centuries. The ones you'll be most familiar with are Loki…" he paused, shoulders tensing up slightly as though he was steeling himself before continuing, "... and Gabriel."

She thought she might pass out. Or throw up. Or both.

Focusing on her breathing, she took a moment to really look at him - the massive golden wings, the shape of pure light and energy that seemed to hover over, under and around him.

She breathed in again. Then out. Then in again.

He just watched her, waiting for her reaction.

Eventually, she found her voice. "Gabriel…" she said softly, measuring the word. "Gabriel" she repeated, slightly more forcefully. She huffed out a breath and then said, "Gabriel, as in 'O blessed Archangel Gabriel, we beseech thee, do thou intercede for us at the throne of divine mercy'? That Gabriel?"

He laughed properly then, "Woah," he said. "Catholic, then?" He chuckled once more and said, "Yes, that Gabriel." His eyes were twinkling with mischief and though she should have been terrified, she couldn't help but giggle herself. His smile widened at the sound, and there was a flash of something in his eyes that she couldn't place.

She shook her head, still smiling. "Not Catholic, no. But I guess that answers the 'what are you' question as well." Flopping backwards in the armchair, she huffed again. "Wow. Archangel…" Suddenly, she sat forward again and blurted, "Wait, why are you killing people then?"

He had the grace to look slightly chagrined, and held his hands up again. "To be fair, they were all jerks."

She just stared at him, waiting for him to continue, and something about it must have made him uncomfortable because now it was him squirming slightly. "Look," he said, lowering his hands, "I'm not really doing the whole 'angel' thing anymore."

As if that explained anything.

"I'm kind of in deep cover, you know," he continued, avoiding her eyes, "the whole Loki thing I already mentioned."

"You're in deep cover," she repeated blandly, willing it to make sense. "Why? Actually, why a lot of things. Why are you killing people, why would an Archangel need deep cover, and why can I see you when Sam and Dean clearly couldn't?"

He chuckled at her little outburst, and she found herself glaring at him. Which was crazy. He was an Archangel - from the Bible - who had also admitted to killing multiple people. And she was sitting in his ugly apartment glaring at him like he was just some regular guy. She quickly replaced the glare with as blank a look as she could manage, but that just made him laugh.

"You're adorable, you know that," he said fondly, and she blushed, shrinking back in her seat.

"But let me try and answer some of those questions of yours before you yell at me again," he said, voice teasing.

"To start, let's just say us angels aren't exactly the fluffy, harp-playing cherubs you see on greeting cards." He paused, looking equal parts thoughtful and sad. "We're more like... cosmic forces with daddy issues and a penchant for drama."

She quirked a brow at 'daddy issues'. That was interesting. Before she could follow that line of thought any further, she was interrupted by her phone ringing and she mentally cursed herself. It would be Bobby, wanting to know where she was. She didn't even know how long she'd been gone. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and, wincing, silenced it.

Gabriel smirked at her, "Friends looking for you?"

She glared at him again, this time not even bothering to correct herself. "As a matter of fact, yes. And he's going to be pissed and worried that I didn't answer. So we need to wrap this up."

He smirked at her again, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She needed to mentally evaluate herself.

Before he could tease, she continued, "So. You want me to forget about this…" she gestured to him, "and try to convince my friends to leave town?"

He nodded. She continued before he could speak. "I'm happy to forget the earth-shattering revelation that angels are real, and kill people, apparently, but there's no way I'm going to be able to convince them to abandon this hunt."

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "That poses a bit of a problem." His eyes twinkled mischievously and there was a laugh in his voice when he said, "I guess you wouldn't be too thrilled with me just… you know… getting rid of them?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "No killing my friends."

He chuckled at her outburst and she felt a strong desire to throw something at him.

She made a mental note to get herself a psych eval - one shouldn't think about throwing things at otherworldly beings who not only could kill you with ease, but who had also made it known to you that killing was something they did just for funsies.

"Fine, fine," he laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "No killing your little friends." He winked at her, and her desire to throw something intensified. She settled for just glaring at him.

"On one condition", he said, and though he was still smiling, there was a seriousness in his voice that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed thickly and nodded, waiting for his terms.

He leaned towards her, eyes serious, and she could feel those twin infernos burning through her. His wings shifted restlessly behind him.

His voice was deep and calm, and his eyes kept her pinned. "You don't tell anyone about me, okay? No one." She nodded again, unable to speak under the intensity of his gaze. He hesitated for a moment before he continued, "And you stay away from other angels."