#who had their computers in a chain link cage

[palmtreepalmtree]

Entered the United States using facial recognition alone, even though I don't have Global Entry. 😶 CBP Officer welcomed me by name and never looked at my passport.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (1)

A Heist/Ocean’s 8 AU // Masterlist 

This story has been rattling around in my head for months now, and I’m so excited to finally share it with you! I’ve been describing this as an Ocean’s 8 AU, but it’s based more on the concept of the movie than the actual plot, although a few of the basic scenes are the same. Regardless, I have big plans for these girls. Content warnings for this fic are listed on the masterlist (link above). 

*****

“Good morning,” the parole officer said. “Please state your name for the record.” 

“Riley Davis.” 

“Thank you. Miss Davis, the purpose of this hearing is to determine whether you are likely to break the law again if released. According to the record, this is your first conviction, and you have never been suspect in another criminal investigation. During your time in prison, you kept to yourself and were well behaved.” The man looked up from her file. “As you know, parole is not a right. Parole is an immense privilege, Miss Davis, one you should not take lightly.” 

“I agree,” she said. 

“Good. What would you do if released?” 

Riley paused, thinking through her answer. “I would settle down, find a good job, fall in love, maybe have kids. I’ve learned my lesson, sir. It was a mistake. Now all I want is to lead a simple, happy life.” She placed one hand over the other, crossing her fingers on her covered hand. 

He squinted at her for a long time, like he was trying to read her mind. Riley painted her face in remorse. After several minutes, the parole officer relented and, apparently satisfied with her answers, said, “Very well.” 

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. By the end of the day, she’d be free. 

The officer continued, “The following are the conditions of your parole. You will report to me, in person, every two weeks until your parole period has ended. You may not cross state lines without my express permission. You must find and maintain steady employment. You may not use drugs or alcohol, nor enter any drinking establishments. You may not possess firearms or other weapons, and you may not associate with other persons with criminal records. In addition, you must obey all federal, state, and local laws, and generally be an upstanding citizen. If you do not follow these rules, Miss Davis, you will find yourself back in custody. Do I make myself clear?” 

Riley nodded. So close. “Yes, sir.” 

Extending his hand, the parole officer said, “Congratulations, Miss Davis. You are now a conditionally free woman.” 

“Thank you.” Riley shook his hand. 

The rest was all a blur. One minute she was sitting in a cold, metal chair with her wrists cuffed to a table, and before she knew it, Riley found herself changing out of her atrocious orange jumpsuit and pulling on skinny jeans and her buttery soft black leather jacket. Wearing real clothes didn’t hide the fact that she looked like shit, but in that moment Riley didn’t care. She was getting out of prison. 

After two years, one month, and four days, she was finally being released from prison. 

Two officers walked her to the exit. Opening the door, Riley squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight. She found herself in one last cage of chain-link fences with coils of barbed wire arching over the tops, and Riley quickened her steps through the open gate in front of her. 

A familiar face waited in the parking lot, perched on the back of a motorcycle. “Welcome back,” Nikki Carpenter said. The pair shared a conspiratorial grin. 

Riley hadn’t known who the officers called to pick her up, but perhaps her best friend coming to take her home was the universe’s repayment for the last two years. Nikki handed Riley a helmet before putting on her own and swinging her leg over the sleek, white bike. 

Riley started to put the helmet on and hesitated. She turned, looking back at the concrete cage she’d spent the last two years of her life in. Even though her sentence was only three years, the nagging voice in the back of her mind had reminded her every day that she might not make it out. Taking a shaky breath, Riley vowed to herself that she would die before finding herself on the wrong side of those fences and walls again. 

Never again. No matter what. 

Nikki must’ve noticed her hesitation, because she rested a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “You okay?” 

Still facing the prison, Riley couldn’t form the words to respond. 

“Hey. Thank you,” Nikki added softly. 

Riley didn’t want to deal with the implications of that ‘thank you.’ Not yet. Finally tearing her eyes away, she said, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

“God, I need a drink,” Riley said as soon as they entered Nikki’s cozy two-bedroom apartment. Located in the heart of downtown LA, it was on the top floor of her building, so Nikki wasn’t subject to loud overhead neighbors stomping and dropping things in the middle of the night, but the elevator moved at a glacial pace and descending twelve flights of stairs was a bitch. Riley preferred residences that were easier to vacate—in case of emergency or unfortunate run-in with the feds—but it was nice enough. 

Nikki raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t avoiding alcohol a condition of your parole?” 

Riley shot her a withering glare and strode into the kitchen. She opened the white-painted cabinet above the stove, revealing Nikki’s extensive stockpile of wine and hard liquor, and dug around until she found the mason jar full of moonshine hidden in the back. Taking a big swig, Riley held Nikki’s gaze, daring her best friend to try to stop her. 

Nikki simply opened the fridge, pulled out some sort of leftovers, and put them in the microwave. While she waited, Nikki studied her. This is what it feels like to be an animal at the zoo, Riley thought as she squirmed under her friend’s scrutiny, crossing her arms over her chest. Riley took another big gulp of moonshine, letting the clear liquid burn her throat and make her stomach churn. 

The microwave beeped. Nikki grabbed a fork and the food and held it out to Riley. Content to doom herself to the worst hangover of her life, Riley shook her head in dismissal. 

“Eat,” Nikki commanded. She tugged on the waistband of Riley’s jeans. “You and I both know those weren’t mom jeans when you bought them.” 

Riley blinked. She’d eaten less while in prison, but it never seemed like a big deal. But the way Nikki was looking at her...she might as well have turned into a skeleton. Suddenly self-conscious, Riley obediently traded her drink for the food—lasagna, she realized—and settled onto the couch. 

After two years of cardboard-flavored prison food, the lasagna tasted like heaven. 

Riley waited until Nikki was mid-gulp before announcing, “I’ve got a plan.” Her best friend nearly choked. “Want to help me get the gang back together?” 

“What’s your plan?” Nikki ground out between coughs. 

Riley grinned. “I figure it’s time we go on that little trip to Paris we’ve always talked about.” 

Nikki shook her head. “Damn, you’re one crazy bitch, Riley Davis. You know that?” She paused, contemplating. “I’m in.” Handing back the moonshine, Nikki added, “But tonight, I say we get drunk and celebrate your freedom. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Thirty minutes in, they’d finished the whole jar of moonshine, and Riley’s head spun. She stumbled into the kitchen in search of water, suddenly grateful Nikki had made her eat a substantial meal before drinking. 

“So,” Riley slurred. “How’s it going with that boyfriend of yours? The cute blonde one.” 

Nikki groaned. “You mean the big fat liar? Fabulous.” 

“So it all blew up in smoke.” 

“You have no idea.” Nikki shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Anyway, I’m back to being single, but Sam and Desi are still as insufferable as ever.” 

“Think they’ll get married?” 

“No way. That’s just one more thing they’d have to deal with if they ever have to fake their own deaths.” 

“On the contrary,” Riley drawled, “they should take out disgustingly large life insurance policies and then take turns faking their deaths every time they run out of money.” The idea sounded flawless to her drunk brain. “I’ll help them with their new identities for a cut.” 

“How big?” 

“Twenty percent.” 

Nikki snorted. “Like they’d ever agree to that.” 

Riley snuggled up to Nikki as they settled in to watch a movie, ducking under Nikki’s arm and using her boobs as a pillow. As Riley’s eyes caught Nikki’s laptop charging on a nearby table, her friend’s babbling about what chick-flick to watch faded into white noise. Riley’s fingers twitched. It’d been too long since she had the comfort of a keyboard beneath the pads of her fingers—since she felt powerful, the way Riley always did when armed with a computer. 

Too long, in fact, since she’d had any agency at all. Riley banished the thought before Nikki could notice where her attention had wandered. 

The movie turned out to be one they’d seen a thousand times, but Riley didn’t mind. Honestly, she needed the familiarity, not that she would admit that to Nikki. Even drunk, Riley loathed to reveal any sort of weakness, no matter how small and insignificant. 

Nikki pinched her side. “You’re brooding. Stop it.” Riley grumbled, but she let the movie distract her all the same. 

When the credits rolled, Riley glanced up at Nikki and found her friend already staring down at her as she rubbed Riley’s head. That caged animal feeling resurfaced. It was moments like these when Riley hated how well Nikki knew her, making it that much harder to hide everything going on in her head. 

In an attempt to escape, she said, “I’m thirsty. Let’s celebrate.” Riley forced a giggle as she walked back to the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet. Everything in Nikki’s kitchen was exactly where it was two years ago, the layout as familiar to her as her own. Did she still have her own? Riley was too drunk to remember what happened to the spacious penthouse apartment of a convicted felon. 

“Riles, nooooooooo,” Nikki whined. “We are so drunk already. We cannot drink any more.” 

“Relax.” Riley rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the milk and a bottle of chocolate sauce. She filled the wine glasses with milk, then added an ungodly amount of chocolate, giggling again when the bottle made a fart noise. Riley didn’t mix it very well, but she was too drunk to care. “Your chocolate milk, milady.” She held out the better mixed of the two, keeping the worse one for herself. Nikki accepted. 

Riley held up her glass in a toast. “To freedom,” she said. “And doing whatever the fuck we want.”

*****

“Phone,” Riley demanded the next morning. Nikki handed hers over without even looking up from the scrambled eggs she was making. Riley unlocked it on the first try. “You haven’t changed your password in the last two years? C’mon, you know better than that!” 

“My password is twenty-nine characters long! I don’t think anyone is going to…Wait you still remember it?” 

Riley scrolled through Nikki’s contacts with one hand, the other busy stuffing her face with toast. “Obviously,” she said through a mouthful of cinnamon swirl bread. 

“Damn,” Nikki muttered, turning back to her eggs. 

Riley found the name she was looking for. Desi Nguyen. The call nearly went to voicemail before the woman on the other end snarled, “What?” 

Riley couldn’t help her grin. “I’m out, and I’ve got a job.” 

“Good for you. Let me know how long you last living the clean life.” 

“No, you jackass. A job. You in?” 

Desi didn’t even hesitate. “Hell yeah I’m in.” 

“Great,” Riley said, “and since I’m assuming Cage’s mouth is too occupied to answer, tell her I say hello.”

“Fuck off,” Desi growled, but it came out just a tad breathless. She hung up before Riley could make a snarky comment about being right. 

“So,” Nikki asked. She dumped the scrambled eggs on two plates. “Are they in?” 

“They’re in.” Riley smirked, gratefully accepting her plate. She sat down at the kitchen table and resumed scrolling through Nikki’s contacts. Riley reached the bottom of the list, but the name she was looking for wasn’t there. Riley checked again to make sure she hadn’t overlooked it. 

“Why isn’t Leanna’s number in your phone?” Nikki kept eating. “Nik,” Riley pressed. “Why don’t you have her number? What happened while I was...gone?” If Nikki noticed how she’d stumbled over the last word, her friend didn’t let on. 

“Leanna got out. Got clean. She’s CIA now.” Nikki’s cold stare was clear. Do not ask me about this again. 

“Oh.” Riley hadn’t seen that coming. “How the hell did she pull that off?” 

“She’s good at making people disappear,” Nikki said matter-of-factly. “Guess she finally used her skills on herself.” There was more Nikki wasn’t saying, but Riley didn’t push her. 

They ate their scrambled eggs in silence. 

As she cleared their plates, Nikki said, “So tell me about this plan of yours. Are we really doing it?” 

“If by ‘it’ you mean the heist of a lifetime, then yes. We are absolutely doing it.” Riley swung her feet onto Nikki’s now-vacated chair. “I had two long years to figure out exactly how to pull it off. All I need now is my team.” 

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Your team? Last I checked, the Five Eyes were our team.” 

Rolling her eyes, Riley snarked, “Semantics.” 

“Whatever.” Nikki was clearly upset, but Riley couldn’t bring herself to care. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Don’t drown,” Riley replied automatically. 

As soon as she heard the rush of water moving through the pipes, Riley snatched Nikki’s laptop. Once again, the password was still the same. Nikki took long showers, so Riley figured she had at least thirty minutes to find the information she needed. 

Hacking into the CIA’s employee database was all too easy for someone like Riley Davis. She practically had the secrets of the universe at her fingertips, but Riley didn’t waste time snooping. All she cared about was one name: Leanna Martin.

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 4

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

The sound of the door opening jolts Bubby back into awareness - and Benrey too. They have another full body flinch, smacking their head against the concrete wall in their scramble.

Dr. Zeki’s heels click on the floor. “Dr. Bubby,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “This is certainly a strange place to find you.”

Benrey’s halfway off his lap already. He moves them gently so he can stand up to his full height, and their hands cling to his pant leg. “I wanted to try something new.”

“You’re attached,” Zeki says. “I should have known better than to let you on this project. It’s not sentient, Bubby. It’s not a fun little pet. Don’t you ever wonder what happened to Dr. Tipton? I’m sure you remember him.”

He, unfortunately, does. Dr. Tipton had been assigned to Bubby long ago, and he’d been an utter nightmare. No sense of boundaries, plus terrible hygiene.

“I recall him, yes.”

“This little subject you’re so fond of nearly killed him. It bit him and injected some kind of venom. We had to develop an entire new antivenom, in less than two hours, just for Dr. Tipton. He’s got permanent nerve damage and lost a few fingers, but he’s alive. I can only hope I’ll be able to say the same for you.”

Bubby glances down at Benrey. They’re clinging even tighter now, claws making small holes in Bubby’s pants.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“Well, in that case.” Her gaze shifts down to Benrey. “You were so interested in its living situation, weren’t you? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we have it stay with you, then.”

“I don’t, actually.” He folds his arms, leveling his gaze right at Zeki, eyes meeting hers. “You know what, I think that’s a fantastic idea.” 

Zeki smirks at him, unbearably smug. “We’ll have to move you to the Biological Research wing, of course. You can’t be in a regular dorm with it. I’m sure your old room is still available, tube and all.”

Bubby bites the inside of his lip. He’s hated a lot of scientists in his years at Black Mesa, but he’s never had the repeated urge to strangle someone until Dr. Zeki. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can find an empty room that can suit my, and the subject’s, needs.”

There’s a buzz from Zeki’s pocket. “Well, you have until I get out of my last meeting. Good luck, Dr. Bubby.” She gives him a final cold glare, turning on her heel and making sure to slam the door behind her.

“Bitch,” Bubby mutters. He hopes Dekkard broke her stuff while he was wrapping it in tinfoil.

There’s a high pitched noise from Benrey, and when Bubby looks down he sees dark bubbles like shadows. He’s careful not to touch them this time, not wanting a repeat of earlier. He crouches back down, eye level with Benrey again.

“Sorry about that,” he says quietly, reaching an arm out and gently placing it on Benrey’s shoulder. “I think I may have fallen asleep as well.”

“I don’t like her,” Benrey mumbles. “She’s scary.”

“I’m not especially fond of her either,” Bubby says. “But, I think this can actually work in our favor.”

“Huh?”

“She tried to scare me with that story, and she thinks she’s punishing me by inviting me to live here with you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Benrey mumbles, hunching their shoulders. “I just - he kept touching me -”

“I’ve had my fair share of encounters with Dr. Tipton. Whatever you did, I’m sure he had it coming.”

“So you - you actually wanna -” Benrey’s eyes are wide and shiny. 

“If you’re alright with it, yes.”

Benrey nods, frantically, leaning their head against Bubby’s shoulder. They can’t quite reach to hug him, so Bubby moves closer, wrapping his arms around them. “I can’t stay for much longer, though. I need to go find us a good room. But I promise I’ll be back, alright?”

Benrey nods, bright yellow bubbles falling from their mouth. Bubby takes a moment to enjoy the wave of joy that comes with them before he forces himself to get up. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he says. 

Benrey’s whole being seems brighter, somehow. Less grey. Their hands tap against the ground. “Bye,” they say, as Bubby shuts the door gently behind him.

He checks Zeki’s office first. Dekkard is nowhere to be seen, but he’s clearly left his mark. Everything - the table, the computer, each individual pencil - has been painstakingly wrapped in tinfoil.

Bubby grins at the sight, taking a moment to knock a few paper weights off the desk.

He checks Dekkard’s desk next. No sign of him there, either, but his slinky is on the desk, so he can’t be too far. 

Sure enough, he’s in the next spot Bubby checks - the break room. He’s standing in front of the vending machine, looking for all the world like a professor stumped by a difficult math question.

“Dekkard!”

He turns and waves. “Oh, hey Bubby. Hey, should I get doritos, or -”

“Nevermind that! I have an important project. I need you to come with me.”

Dekkard raises an eyebrow, turning back to the machine. “Doritos it is.”

Bubby sighs. “Please. Look, this is very time sensitive, I only have until Zeki is done with her last meeting and I’ve already wasted ten minutes looking for you.”

Dekkard reaches into the machine for his bag of chips. “I mean, I’m supposed to be on lunch, but if this is to fuck with her, then I’ll help. Let’s go.”

“I saw your work in her office,” Bubby says as they walk back to Dekkard’s desk. “And I will admit, you did an excellent job.”

Dekkard beams. “Maybe I’m not so underqualified after all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Dekkard slips into his chair. Bubby’s too anxious to sit, instead pacing back and forth as he waits for the computer to boot up. “So, what am I helping you with?”

“Zeki made a proposal. I’m sure she intended it as a threat, but. I need a free room here in Biological Research. Something livable. No tubes or cages or any of that shit.”

Dekkard’s hands pause on the keyboard. He glances back at Bubby, who’s staring over his shoulder, leaning forward to watch. “Are you…moving in here?”

“Yes. Myself and one of the subjects, so make sure it’s big enough for two people.”

Dekkard spins in his chair. “One of the subjects?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” He folds his arms, standing up straight.

“I mean - pretty much every single subject here could kill you, so -”

“I used to be a subject here, if you’ll recall.” 

“Yeah, but - you’re not like them. You’re like, a person.” Dekkard sighs. “Is it the alien?”

“Their name is Benrey.”

“You named it?”

“We are wasting time,” Bubby snarls, stepping forward to grab the mouse from Dekkard’s hand. He holds it up, stretching the wire as far as it can go. 

“Hang on! Look, I’m willing to help, I just -”

“I don’t have time to argue with you! Either help me, or I will do this myself.” 

“Look, Bubby -”

“Dr. Bubby.”

“Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard groans, tipping his head back. “You’re the only tolerable person here, I don’t wanna help you get killed by an alien.”

“Well, luckily for you that’s not what you’re doing. Now are you going to help or not?”

“You’re really set on this, huh?”

It’s a lucky thing Bubby’s control over his pyrokinesis has grown, or Dekkard’s hair would be on fire. “Yes, I’m sure. I - they have them chained up. Like some kind of wild animal. They’re a child, Dekkard. Zeki made the mistake of offering this, and I’m not going to give her the chance to back down.”

Dekkard’s shoulders slump as he spins back to the computer. “I’m not gonna pretend like I understand, but fine. I’ll help.” Bubby takes a step away from the computer to give him a bit of space, not wanting to hover as Dekkard logs into the horribly designed official Black Mesa website. It takes him a minute to pull up a map, but once he does, he waves Bubby back over. “Okay, so. There’s a few empty areas, it looks like. I’m gonna toss these ones immediately -” and here he points to the screen at a cluster of small rooms - “because those are next to whatever the hell it is that screams all night. XEN - uh, Benrey?” He glances up at Bubby who nods approvingly. “Right. Benrey’s over here right now, and I think there’s actually an unused room pretty close? Big one, too.” 

“Just find me something and show me it. I don’t need your entire thought process.”

“Hey, I’m the one helping you.” Dekkard’s quiet after that, though, focusing more on the screen as Bubby paces back and forth, glancing at his pager every few minutes. “Okay, come here, I’ve got a list.”

This is the time-consuming part. Dekkard shows Bubby each of the rooms, laying out the size and shape and what they’re near, and then they spend a few moments debating the pros and cons. Bubby knows they’re on a timer, but his attention is elsewhere, and he does forget to check the time. 

His pager beeps.

“Oh, motherfucker,” he mutters. Zeki’s meeting must have ended, because she’s sent him a message.

Meet me in my office.

“We need to decide right now.”

“Shit, that her?”

“No, it was the president. Yes, it was her!”

Dekkard sighs, scooting his chair closer. “Okay, I know it’s a weird shape, but I think this one’s best. There’s a bathroom nearby and a sink in the room, which is good. Better than the dorms, even. And you can hang up a curtain or something over here and make it like a separate room.”

He’s gesturing at a vaguely L-shaped room close to the offices and break room. Bubby has seen it before. It’s been unused for ages, gathering dust, and will probably be a pain to clean. But Dekkard does have a point, and he’s out of time.

“Fine. Sure. Yes. What’s the room number?”

“B-22.”

“B-22,” Bubby repeats. “B like Bubby. Excellent. Alright, I’m off to go ruin Zeki’s day.”

Dekkard shoots him a grin and a finger gun. “Good working with you.”

“Also, don’t get the doritos. They’re stale.”

Dekkard looks at the bag on his desk. “God damnit. Asshole.”

[7nosecrinkle7]

Kitten Conundrum

Alex paced back and forth across her dining room and kitchen area. Maggie was nearly an hour late coming home for their regular date night, and the last she had heard from her she was on her way with her partner to investigate a suspect. That was four hours ago. They’d changed their night to a casual one, but she was still really late. The last time Maggie was this late…

Cutting off Alex’s spiraling thoughts, the door to their apartment opened and a disheveled, flustered Maggie stumbled through. She dropped her duffle unceremoniously in the entryway and swung the door shut with a thud.

“Babe, are you okay?” Alex asked, stepping toward her fiancée.

Hih.. Hih’GNXT’shu! *Snnff* Was the itchy, breathy response Maggie gave her.

“Bless you,” Alex said on instinct. 

“Thanks,” Maggie said furiously rubbing at her nose.

When she looked up, Alex gasped in concern, “Oh, babe. What happened?”

The light dusting of makeup Maggie usually put on in the morning was long since rubbed off. Her tanned cheeks were flushed, her nose a deepening shade of red. Her eyes were a light shade of pink. She had brought up both hands now, rubbing at the offending appendage. Alex’s beautiful fiancée was in the throes of one of her allergy attacks. 

Keeping one hand firmly against her nose, Maggie mumbled congestedly, “suspect ran--” *Snnff* “--nd broke into the humane society animal rescue to hihh--hide.”

“Yikes. Here, let’s get you--” Alex stopped talking when Maggie shook her head and stepped back.

Her head tipped back, eyebrows and eyes scrunched, and her lips parted open hitching. Hiih.. Heeeh, hih...  In one motion, she bent over bracing her hands on her knees.

Hii -- haPNCHhoo… hatCHIEWw… After two desperate sneezes, Maggie put a hand over her nose and pinched it shut. hNXxxcht… One last one escaped.

Alex came over and rubbed her back. Maggie sniffled heavily, not moving her hand away.

“Bless you… Babe, you know it’s not good to stifle like that,” Alex said with concern.

“I know, but if I don’t, I won’t stop sneezing.” Maggie was insanely congested at this point and was nearly impossible for anyone to understand her… Except Alex.

Alex guided her over to the couch and sat her down. Next, she went and grabbed the box of tissues that sit on Maggie’s side of the bed. 

“Here, blow,” Alex said, handing some over to her.

Maggie, to her credit, did try to blow her nose. But it just didn’t work.

“‘m too congested,” Maggie sighed stuffily.

“It sounds like you need a shower -- wash all that dander and fur off of you. It’ll loosen up your congestion too.”

The only response Alex received was a brief nod. Maggie was too consumed rubbing her nose and her streaming eyes. She still would not remove her hand from holding her nose shut.

“I’ll go start the shower.”

** Four hours earlier at the NCPD precinct **

Maggie was typing furiously on her computer, her phone sandwiched between her right ear and her shoulder. 

-- “We should be wrapping up in the next thirty minutes and then I’ll be home,” Maggie said to her fiancée.

-- “Sounds good, babe. Just be safe. I just got home. I’m going to shower and get ready.”

“Sawyer!” Her partner, Detective Romero, shouted her name and jogged up to her desk. “We’ve got a lead on our suspect. You good to go?”

Maggie sighed. Alex must’ve heard him over the phone.

-- “Don’t worry about fancy date night babe. I could use a night-in anyway. We can postpone until we both are off this weekend.”

-- “If you’re sure?” Maggie asked. She hated having to push their date nights off. They always tried to keep Thursday nights as their standing date for just them. With two busy careers in the NCPD and DEO, they hardly had time to sit-down together.

-- “I’m sure, babe. Just be safe, okay? See you in a few hours?”

-- “Always, Danvers… I gotta run, but I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

-- “Love you too, Mags.”

Maggie hung up her phone and grabbed her keys and oversized police jacket. 

“Where are we headed Romero?”

“About 30 minutes East to Peach Street. Suspect was last spotted hanging in one of the alley-ways.”

… … … … … … … … … … 

“NCPD, LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!” Maggie yelled when their suspect was within sight. He was standing over a burn-barrel warming his hands. He was wanted for several burglary charges including an attempted armed bank robbery earlier that day.

The suspect’s head popped up, eyes wide. Naturally, he bolted out the other end at full speed. 

“Shit, we’ve got a runner.” Maggie holstered her weapon and took off after him, Romero on her heels but slightly slower. 

Breathing hard, Maggie’s adrenaline kicked in. She found herself gaining on the suspect.

They were coming up to a dead end with a chain-linked fence ahead of them. The suspect was nimble enough to throw himself up and over.

Maggie hoped Romero was able to find a way to cut him off because she was growing annoyed with this chase. She huffed and groaned but went up and over the fence behind him. Her landing, however, was less than graceful. She landed with a grunt and twisted her left ankle. 

“Great,” she muttered to herself and kept running.

By the time she caught up, the suspect had broken a window into the nearby building and crawled inside.

Maggie made eye contact with Romero as he arrived. He went around back and she followed the suspect through the window.

She dropped into what looked like a storage room, the door leading into the rest of the building was still swinging from the suspect running. She took off in the direction the door led and heard the sound of cage doors rattling from the next hallway over.

Maggie rounded the corner in time to catch a glimpse of the suspect noisily tripping over a garbage can in his path. He yelled in pain, and continued to drag himself out towards the door. What grabbed her attention though, was the several swinging cage doors.

“Oh no,” Maggie murmured, eyes opening wide. In front of her were about a dozen cats out either chasing each other or waltzing around in the middle of her path to the suspect. Maggie hadn’t been paying attention to the building but it became quickly apparent that they ended up in the local animal shelter. 

Maggie held her breath. As quickly as she could, she sped through the clowder of cats and out the back door. She heard her partner yell at the suspect to stop.

When Maggie got around the corner, the suspect was heavily favoring his left foot and had reached back to pull something out of his back pocket. She dove at him, bringing him down and kicked away the gun. Romero ran over and helped subdue the suspect. He got his handcuffs on him, and then decided to also use Maggie’s to keep him seated and chained to the fence while they waited for their backup to show up.

“You read him his rights,” Maggie said as she pulled out her phone. “I’m gonna see if I can get a hold of the owner of this place. He opened the cages of at least 12 cats.” 

… … … … … … … … … …  

With backup on the way, Maggie went ahead and called for medics for the suspect, who was moaning and groaning about his leg. Maggie could feel her own ankle swelling against her shoe and had half a thought to maybe get it checked when the paramedics showed up.

Maggie braced herself and entered the animal shelter again. Almost immediately she was greeted by no less than five cats, all of which seemed convinced she had food or catnip.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said as she took another step into the main caged area for cats. At the very least, she was thankful their suspect hadn’t also released dogs or they would have an even bigger mess to deal with.

She had connected with the owner of National City’s Humane Society/Animal Rescue on the first try. At the pleading of the owner, Maggie agreed to get whatever cats she could and put them into the individual cages. They’d sort out the right order later, but the woman did not want the cats wandering about for the 30 minutes it was going to take her to arrive. 

When Maggie asked Romero if he would do it while she babysat their suspect, he begrudgingly admitted that he was scared of cats. Something about an evil childhood pet and his ex-wife, Maggie hadn’t really paid close attention. But he was definitely doing all of the paperwork to make up for it.

The five closest cats were simultaneously rubbing at her ankles already. Maggie bent down and picked one up. She held the purring cat close to her. 

“You’re kinda cute,” she said as she placed it in the nearest cage. Maggie shut the door and latched it.

She brushed her hands together to rid the excess fur from her skin. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” she mumbled to herself. That sentiment was reversed not ten seconds later though, when she bent at the waist with a forceful, desperate sneeze. 

HuhESShheWw!…

“Ugh,” she groaned and sniffled. Maggie wiggled her nose a few times and swiped at it with the back of her wrist. 

“New reaction record… Two minutes.”

She picked up the next cat and put it in the adjacent cage. The process repeated itself with a little more force. She barely had time to bring her arm up.

hUHEsshh-eksshh… hiih uhhh... hihGNXKshew… 

Maggie sniffled before stifling a near silent h--ngt into her elbow. She hoped the owner arrived a lot sooner than in 30 minutes.

** HOME **

Alex took care of Maggie’s dander and fur-ridden clothes and immediately took them down to start the laundry. To give her fiancée some extra time, Alex took the stairs. By the time she entered their apartment again and located the Benadryl stash, the shower had been shut off.

She could hear Maggie blowing her nose and the lid of the trash can shut. A moment later, she exited the bathroom looking a little more relaxed.

Maggie was in a pair of her pajama shorts and one of Alex’s larger t-shirts. As she made her way across the room, Alex noticed a distinct limp.

“Babe, what happened?” She asked and came over to help her.

“Sprained it jumping over a fence. Paramedics wrapped it, but I had to take it off to shower. Can you wrap it again for me, please?” She scrubbed at her eyes and sighed.

“Of course I can. I’m sorry your night went this way.” Alex said sympathetically. She rubbed Maggie’s back and went to move away to grab the ace wrap, but Maggie held on.

Alex fully embraced her into a hug and they stood there for a moment. Maggie wasn’t big on hugs but when work got particularly hard or she wasn’t feeling well, she could become just as clingy as the Danvers sisters.

Alex heard Maggie sniffle and the hitch that followed, but she didn’t let go. Maggie turned into Alex’s hoodie covered shoulder and stifled two sneezes against her. Huh--nxt… nxgt… She sniffled heavily. Alex rubbed soothing strokes up Maggie’s back.

“It’s okay, Mags. You can let them out.”

Maggie knew she needed the relief and was too tired to fight the allergic reaction anymore.

Alex felt her tense before she gave into the fit.

Hih! hiitCHIEWw.. Hih huh HihESShheWw!… hUHEsshheW--eksshhew… *snff* *snff*

“Bless--”

Hiih--hihUHEssshoO!... Hih’GNXT’shu… *snff*

“Done?”

HuhESHheww! *snf*

Maggie pulled back, fanning at her face before pinching her nose shut and stifling another couple sneezes. 

Hih.. Hih’NNXT’chu!... hNXxxcht.

She sniffled hesitantly before rubbing her nose roughly. 

“Bless you!” Alex said, concerned. She grabbed the box of tissues and handed a few to Maggie.

“Thandk you,” she said taking them and blowing her nose.

“I got Benadryl out in case the shower didn’t help. Do you want me to get you one and some water?”

“Ndo,” Maggie said and sniffled again, the congestion starting to clear somewhat. “The paramedics gave me a shot. This is actually a lot better than it was. I thought I was going to have to call you to pick me up. They said if the reaction hasn’t tapered out by ten then I should dose up on more Benadryl.”

“Okay,” Alex leaned in and gave Maggie a kiss on her cheek. 

She helped Maggie to the sofa. Alex made short work of gently wrapping Maggie’s ankle and propping it up on extra pillows. Maggie had turned on a random movie while Alex put ice on her ankle and joined her on the sofa. She laid back into Alex’s waiting arms. They were both snuggled under the large blanket they kept on the sofa.

Just as Maggie got totally comfortable, she found herself burying her nose into the blanket. 

Hih -- HhmMPShu… huhesshew!

“Bless you, Mags.”

Maggie took the offered tissues and blew her nose softly.

“Thanks,” she sighed and yawned. 

Maggie turned in Alex’s arms so she could snuggle into her chest. The exhaustion of the evening was finally catching up to her.

Alex felt Maggie relax in her arms. She was sure Maggie’s captain had already given her tomorrow off. Alex would call off in the morning, too, so she could spend the day with her. They could start their weekend a little early.

Maggie’s soft, congested snores slowly lulled Alex to sleep as well, movie now forgotten.

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part Five

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: 2k words. A03 link can be found here. Special thanks to @cloakedrabbitand @starfiretheninja for beta-reading! 

“Okay, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you’ve never snuck out of the house,” Casey rapped his knuckles on the cracked leather steering wheel and tossed a glance towards April. He’d given the girl rides in the Jonesmobile before – his affectionate name for the Jeep that was older than the two of them combined – but this was different. The two could usually listen to music or crack jokes while they were driving through Osaka, free from the stress of life for just a few moments. But now her whole body looked tense, like a coiled spring about to break free and launch out onto the dark highway. She’d been like this since they had left the lab earlier that afternoon, her expressions twisting tighter with each hour as they formulated a plan. “I mean, I know that you’re a goody-two-shoes but come on. Nobody is that perfect.”

“I’m serious,” the redhead insisted, though she didn’t meet Casey’s probing gaze. Her eyes were instead focused on the vibrating, glowing laptop perched on her thighs as she rapidly typed in lines of data. “Besides, where would I even go?”

“Uh, wherever you wanted? Like you could, I don’t know… go swim with whatever weird fish your dad is studying? And then you could be back before he even realized that you were gone!”

She snorted, her expression momentarily relaxing just enough to make Casey smile in approval. “Yeah, right. My dad is way too much of a nervous wreck for that to go well. The second he noticed that I was missing he would call the police or something.”

“Not if you had an excuse like tonight, Ms. Wild Woman.”

“That’s different,” April finally looked up from her laptop and gave Casey an unimpressed look, the tightness in her body returning. “I’m helping you to study at your house, remember? Which we did, so it’s technically not lying.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, eyes shifting back to the road as he upped the brightness on the headlights. Streetlights had started to become fewer and farther between as they turned off of the freeway and passed a sign marking the entrance to Hamato Lab’s property. Despite how brightly lit and colorful it looked during the day, during the night he couldn’t help but see the massive building complex as a haunted maze. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night. Anyways, we should be at our destination in just a few minutes.”

“Awesome,” April turned back to her computer and entered another few keystrokes. “In that case, let’s run through the plan just one more time. The last of the main staff left at eight and the transport truck is supposed to arrive around midnight, so someone on staff will have to be there to unlock everything about an hour prior. Since it’s 9:30 now, that means we have a little over an hour to get in –”

“And then we’ll use your keycard, you’ll mess with any security cameras we run into using your laptop, and bada bing bada boom we’ve got ourselves a turtle,” Casey interrupted, taking a hard left to direct their vehicle onto an ‘employees only’ driveway. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over this like a hundred times today- you’ve been repeating yourself all afternoon.”

A pregnant pause fell over the car, and Casey allowed his eyes to momentarily flick towards April to make sure that he hadn’t gone deaf. Based on the color that her face was turning, he suddenly wished he had.

“How can you be so flippant about this?” April snapped her laptop closed, voice raising as she tossed it into the floorboards and turned sharply in her seat. Without taking his eyes back off of the road, Casey could already tell that she was strongly considering smacking the hockey mask off of his head and possibly beating him with it. “We’re literally about to commit a CRIME by breaking into a government lab and STEALING one of the subjects! HECK, I still can’t believe that I talked myself into this? What’s my dad going to say when he finds out? And heck, what’s the government going to say? Neither of us are actually citizens of Japan – are they just going to fling us out into the ocean and be like ‘swim back to America, you dirty criminals’? I have my whole freaking life ahead of me, and I’m about to throw it away so that I can save some random turtle? Who does that?!”

Casey waited silently as she vented, before finally taking his eyes off of the road to face her. By now they were approaching Hamato Lab’s parking garage, a four-story concrete structure that spiraled down into depths of the Earth. Casey pulled past the guard gate, absently noticing that the crossing bar was raised before he turned left and started their descent into the belly of the beast. Their destination would be the last level, which opened onto the same floor that the creature was being held. “If we don’t do anything, they’re going to eventually kill him, right?”

“… Right.”

“So screw the rules. If we’re arrested or something, we can deal with that then – but as long as I’m able to help, I’m going to. Casey Jones doesn’t go down without a fight.”

The car fell silent while April hesitated, her shoulders still tense as she considered his words. The Jeep had just rounded a corner onto the third level when she finally let out a huff and turned back in her seat. “I’d still rather not be arrested.”

“Eh, you’d look nice in a jumpsuit.”

This time she did smack the mask off of his head, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the teenage boy.

“What?! It was a compliment!”

April opened her mouth to respond, her eyes sparkling with renewed energy, when she suddenly lunged across the center console and slapped at the headlights control. “Shoot shoot shoot – stop the car!”

Casey immediately slammed on the brake, bringing the car to a lurching stop right as they were about to turn onto the lowest level. The Jeep rocked forwards, front tires already gripping the incline and sending half a dozen empty soda bottles rolling towards the front seats. April grunted in surprise as her seatbelt locked in place, just barely saving her from tumbling into the floorboards alongside the trash.

She’d spoken not a moment too soon – the door that they had been planning on entering through was propped open, sending a long beam of white light into the darkness of the parking garage and illuminating a solid black van parked in the handicap space. The car rumbled quietly, headlights turned off but taillights signaling that it was still cranked and running.

The two teenagers exchanged wide-eyed looks before Casey slowly reached for the gear shift, allowing April to move back into her seat before he put the car in reverse. Eyes trained on the door for movement, Casey backed the Jeep off of the incline and into a shadowy corner of the parking garage. When no alarms went off, and nobody suddenly exploded through the door in pursuit, he killed the engine and whisper-hissed. “I thought you said they weren’t supposed to be arriving until midnight?”

“Well apparently they came early!” April hissed back between gritted teeth. She unbuckled her seatbelt and gripped the ceiling bar as she pulled herself into a crouching position. “Crap- what do we do now?”

Unbuckling his own seatbelt, Casey twisted to reach behind his seat. “Here, take one of my hockey sticks – or I think I have a baseball bat-”

“Are you crazy? We are NOT going to beat up scientists with hockey sticks!”

“But –”

Before he could argue further, the sound of footsteps on the lower level brought them both to silence.

“Get the door.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” A middle-aged man in a lab coat stepped meekly into the garage, his head ducked as he went to open the back of the van. “But I still think there are better ways of handling –”

“Just get it, Doctor.”

The scientist nodded and moved quickly, then cast a nervous glance back over his shoulder that allowed the limited light to illuminate his features.

April gasped and pressed her palms against the window. “Oh my gosh – Dad!”

Two more figures emerged from the hallway, nearly blocking out the light with their massive forms. The first, a tall black man wearing dark glasses, brushed roughly past Dr. O’Neil and climbed into the driver’s seat. The second, moving a big more slowly, was a large white man carrying the creature over his shoulder.

Both teens gasped. The turtle’s arms and legs swung limply as the man moved, uninhibited by chains or any form of restraint. His head bobbed against his captor’s shoulder, keeping pace with each step, but not showing any sign protest or even an attempt to get into a more comfortable position. In fact, he showed no signs of life at all.

Casey leaned across the center console, one hand on April’s shoulder and growled. “They killed him.”

April’s breath hitched in her throat as she rapidly shook her head. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the window and straining to make out the details on the turtle’s face. “No – they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Dad wouldn’t have let them just kill him.”

“That’s what they were planning on doing in the first place, April – that’s why we’re here!” Casey balled his free hand into a fist and pounded it on the dashboard. “We were too late.”

“No, wait,” April placed a hand over Casey’s, urging him to be quiet. “Listen!”

The two teenagers fell silent again, watching as the large man stooped down at the rear of the van. The way that their car was positioned blocked April and Casey from being able to see straight into the vehicle, but they could tell based on movement that he had set the turtle down and was messing with something back there. Dr. O’Neil stood a few feet away, nervously rubbing his arm and throwing anxious glances into the car.

“T-that cage is fairly small for a creature his size – and he should really have some source of water. If it would help, we have several transport trucks that would be better suited for relocating specimens. If you could just wait until morning, I could personally deliver-”

The man in the driver’s seat grunted and rested an elbow on the edge of his open window. “As I’ve already stated, the boss is not a patient man. He wants the turtle in his lab yesterday and does not care to be kept waiting.”

“But surely he-”

“You’ve done enough, Dr. O’Neil,” the second man said, finishing what he was doing and slamming the back of the van shut. “The specimen is now our responsibility, and we will do with it as our boss sees fit. The check for Hamato Labs should be arriving soon, so how about you just go back inside and pretend as if this night never happened?”

April watched as her dad shrank slightly, clearly still not willing to give up on the issue but understanding that he was outnumbered. “Just… please be careful on the drive.”

“Of course,” the man clapped a massive hand on Kirby’s shoulder, nearly bowling the scientist over, and squeezed once before heading towards the passenger side of the van. “We wouldn’t dare do otherwise.”

Blinding headlights erupted from the front of the car, flooding the parking garage with light and sending Kirby stumbling back into the building. With a rev of its engine, the van lurched forward. Casey yelped and pushed down on April’s shoulder, forcing the two of them below the sweeping beams as the vehicle slowly climbed the ramp to their level. The two kids remained low, breath held as the spotlights slowly passed over their heads. Time seemed to slow down for a moment, and then the van’s engine revved loudly and took off with a squeal of tires.

As soon as she heard the car moving on the next level, April scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed for her seatbelt. “He’s alive – follow them!”

“On it!” Casey pushed himself upright and slammed his keys back into the ignition, bringing the Jonesmobile roaring to life. “Hold on to your butt!”

Next Chapter

[pollylynn]

Title: The Glass Cell WC: 1600

“You know reality isn’t fiction, right?”  — Dr. Clark Murray, A Death in the Family (1 x 10)

She wears a dress of her mom’s to prom, he decides. He imagines it in detail—cut-work lace over taffeta in bright emerald green, a satin empire waist band a shade darker, a full A-line skirt. He envisions her with mismatched quasi-punky hair hanging down to half hide her dramatic eye-makeup. She stands out, of course. In a sea of off-the-shoulder, halter neck, heavy fabrics in primary colors—crayon red, royal blue, black, black, white, white, red again, with an ill-advised plunge neckline. She stands out. 

She likes her date, though she doesn’t exactly let him know that. He imagines that, too. She doesn’t exactly let anyone know that she likes this boy on the verge of being a man, because she’s not sure that she’s supposed to. He’s quiet and sensitive. Not a dork—not outright unpopular, but a dark horse candidate for asking her in the first place, and her unexpected, unhesitating yes had sent shockwaves through the eleventh grade. 

She is awkward on the dance floor. She is a vision in her mother’s dress, but there is architecture to it. There is a hidden foundation that requires time travel of her ribs, her spine, her hips, and her date—the boy on the verge of being a man—has no idea where to put his hands during the slow songs. She has no idea where to put hers, so she locks her fingers behind his neck. She breathes Let’s get out of here well before Boyz II Men get to the spoken-word part, and they do. 

They race across the ballroom with their fingers linked, laughing like fools. They leave her friends, his friends, the tiny intersection of their friends to gawp as they bang through the double doors.They roam the streets around the hotel in a spiral pattern, talking and talking. 

She shivers and pulls the cream-colored silk-and-seed-pearl wrap close around her. With well-intentioned gallantry, he tries to drop his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders. He misses, and they both watch in horror as the long tails drag through something nameless and awful before he can catch it. 

The hem of her dress is dirty and her mom’s dyed-to-match pumps with their rhinestone butterfly clips will never be the same. But they share french fries at a nameless diner. They share a tentative kiss in the back of a cab as the boy escorts her home. They share a burning, frenzied, back-against-the-glass follow-up in the doorway of her apartment as the sun comes up. 

She misses curfew by a lot. Her mom brings her coffee and toast in bed long after morning has tipped over into afternoon. She asks a million impertinent questions about the boy she likes, about the evening, about her plans to save up for what should be an astonishing dry cleaning bill. 

This is how it happens. This is what he decides. 

**********************

She sprains her ankle on move-in day. He knows. He sees clearly how the events unfold. 

She has a plan. She has keys in hand by 8:01 am. She has a spot for the van with her things, hardly a block away, and her second-hand office chair can serve as a makeshift dolly. She has almost nothing. It’ll be two dozen quick trips, she figures, but the apartment is full of junk. 

Oh yeah, the creepy building manager tells her, last guy skipped out. 

The junk is her problem, apparently. Her problem. She plumps down on some kind of ottoman and immediately regrets it as an oily smell rises up. It’s not just the ottoman, though. The whole place reeks of food and animal fat. She registers the distant clatter of dishes, of silverware, and the hiss of a hot grill rising up through the floor. 

She props her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists. She wastes ten precious minutes of the three hours before she has to have the van back contemplating the space that is smaller, dingier, filthier than the unit she saw when she signed the lease. 

She hauls herself up and lugs the ottoman and a broken laundry basket full of dirty t-shirts with her down to the dumpster. She bumps milk crates full of electronics odds and ends down the stairs. She carries awkward lamps like jousting lances. 

It’s a box of kitchen things that does her in. It’s a mile wide and heavy. She knows she should unpack and repack it. She should make two trips, three, four, but she’s tired of this. She misses a step. She goes down to the landing. She can feel the rush of heat into the ankle she has wrenched badly. 

There’s a neighbor—a pair of neighbors—who hear the commotion. They rescue her, Cleo and Pete, who are just a little older than she is. They extricate her from underneath the box. They help her into their apartment and give her an ice pack. They give her a stiff drink and an ace bandage. 

They share stories about the guy who skipped out in the middle of the night—his questionable activities and his even more questionable taste in music. They order pizza and won’t take her money when she offers. The three of them agree that the building manager almost certainly collects clown paintings by serial killers. 

They insist that she spend the night on their couch. She protests. She tries to put weight on her ankle, then gives in. She spends her first night not in her first apartment staring at a ceiling that belongs to strangers with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes because her fucking ankle hurts. Because she doesn’t have the money to pay for another day of the damned van. Because her mother is dead and she is alone in the world. 

He knows all this. He sees it clearly. 

************************

He cannot picture the shadows on her skin in that basement room. He sees the backs of his own hands criss-crossed infinitely with weak, unflattering light coming in through the cage. But he cannot see hers. Would her fingernails be as neat and no-fuss as they are today, or would they have been ragged with the pain of all the long years before she made it that far? 

Would she—and the possibility is like a lattice work of burning hot ice spreading through him from the inside—would she have gotten the chain for her mother’s ring when she first put on the uniform? Was there a time in that dingy apartment—in her college days with her dad drowning and her left wrist as yet bare—was there a time when when she would have slipped it on her finger each morning instead of ducking her head to let the delicate links of a think gold chain slither down over her collar bones?

He doesn’t know, any more than he knows if she would have risked the rickety table with its hard, back-breaking chair. He cannot say whether she would have waited for the most desolate hour each possible night, then set to work right where he did, or if she would have, instead, arranged herself on the cracked tile floor, knees drawn up and hunched over the tight beam of a penlight. 

He looks for signs of her in the creases and ragged edges, the rusty indentation of an ancient paperclip removed and replaced, the corner of a thin stack torn away along with a now-missing staple in a moment of frustration. He scours the faded, triple-carbon paperwork and holds the glossy, terrible photos at an oblique angle to the light from his desk lamp, the light from his computer screen. In the riot of smudged, overlapping fingerprints he wonders which might be hers. 

It’s no use, this afterthought of a search. She is nowhere. There is no detail remembered from his own few hours spent in that basement room, no physical trace of her presence in the file itself that sparks the rush of absolute clarity with which he envisions her at the junior prom, her on move-in day at that first three-story walk-up that smelled of chicken wings. 

She is nowhere, because he has never once bothered to imagine her—not once. He relives the abrupt sting of her rapped out pair of questions—You don’t think I’ve haven’t been down there? You don’t think I haven’t memorized every line in that file? He sits, staring at the file now with tide of shame advancing, receding, advancing. 

He didn’t think. In all these weeks, he has not once thought about the space between the wound delivered and the scars she bears. He has not once thought about the dreams she must have cast off, what it must have cost her to forge a path to that basement room. He has not once considered what those long years must have been like. He has never stopped to ask himself how the woman she is now—the relentless, fiercely intelligent, extraordinary woman he has come to know—could ever have come to accept her mother’s death as a random, wayward event.

He thinks now. He asks himself now. He tries, now, to picture the shadows on her skin, the tense outline of her body and the tight beam of a penlight. He tries to imagine that lonely work, but he can’t. 

She is gone from him. She is nowhere.  A/N: This is an especially weird not!thing. I had to decide that Castle has the actual Johanna Beckett file that he’s taken, not just copies. That doesn’t make much sense, but the autopsy photos look to be originals, complete with labels and handling wear. Fixation on those details is just a distraction from how not a thing this is. 

images via homeofthenutty

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 24: Better the Devil You Don’t (Epilogue)

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Someone does right by Cadence.

note: And with that Bound by Circumstance is ended! I’ll start posting book 3, Bound by Choice, in a day or so! Book 3 is the only book in the series not based off of an existing Choices book, and follows the story of the Trinity in a series of flashback vignettes. Taylor and the Nightbound gang will return in book 4!

Also, Bound by Choice is currently in-progress, as opposed to books 1 & 2 which were completed at the time of posting. Once I catch up on the last chapters posted, my updating schedule will go to the weekly update my AO3 is on.

[READ IT ON AO3]

A few weeks later…

[TEXT]: hurry up [TEXT]: where r u??? [TEXT]: ur loss I’m not waiting [TEXT]: BUZZKILL!!! [TEXT]: pic.jpg

The picture does it — finally draws his attention away from his computer to where his phone screen changes from 01:07 to 01:08 as if to taunt him.

It takes Cadence a moment to realize the woman next to Kathy in her (blurry) self-taken photo is supposed to be Ivy. So used to seeing her true form in person — but glamours don’t fade on digital recording.

And who else do they know dresses like she’s always ready to attend a Victorian funeral?

In his friend’s defense Cade was supposed to be at the Shift over an hour ago.

She’ll hear his excuses and his apologies, pretend as though he’s committed the greatest sin in history — but come sunrise and sobriety he’ll be forgiven. The Nighthunter likes to make everyone think she’s the picture of cool nonchalance; the human equivalent of a cat.

But anyone who feeds strays knows just how affectionate cats can be when they so choose.

He shuts down his work, fighting the instinctual habit to leave most of it out and make his space look clean by pushing it to the sides of his desk — actually putting things back in their folders and boxes.

Tap-tap.

His head jerks up quick enough for his glasses to threaten flight. Working in this particular space for over a decade now, there isn’t anyone who doesn’t know about Odd Cadence and his odd hours; how he refuses to work in the daylight due to a debilitating allergy.

Even Gary from night maintenance wouldn’t bother.

Tap-tap.

He listens for a heartbeat. Can hear everything from the rush of water through old plumbing to the coo of pigeons scavenging on the outside Square.

Tap—

Isadora de la Rosa doesn’t get to finish her genteel knocking; pale hand hovering just shy of the taller vampire’s collarbone as he holds the door open.

She looks a little dumbfounded for him to have answered. That’s silly, though, since she was in his territory now.

The air is thick with a tension not felt since Mardi Gras those weeks ago. She looks ready to turn and leave without a word between them. He almost lets her.

“Izzy,” by way of greeting, and even though she now runs the dynasty her father built he struggles to call her anything but the petulant youthful human woman he first met her as, “I was just heading out.”

He gives her a chance; sees the opportunity for escape that flickers in her weathered eyes no longer young but no less defiant by nature.

Some people were just born ready to stand their ground. He always admired that about her.

“This won’t take long.”

One step forward, one step back. A familiar dance neither acknowledges as Isadora invites herself into his space. She’s not the oldest thing in the room by far, nor the most expensive. Still she commands the air around her to whisper softer, for the floorboards under her heels to wait until she passes to creak.

“Sure, come on in…”

She makes a point of trying to keep an arms’ length between her body and any clutter. He won’t apologize for it, not to her. She was half the reason he’s like this.

“I’m glad to see the Museum is treating you well.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s never met a de la Rosa good at small talk. He still hasn’t.

But she keeps trying. It’s hard not to cringe at every forced word, how she purposefully finds something to look at and mention; “New project, I see.”

Cadence doesn’t answer. She switches a black leather briefcase from one hand to the other; a poised woman’s version of shuffling her feet.

“You always were best kept —”

“I have somewhere to be.”

Her quirked brow says it all; how she definitely doesn’t believe him but calling him out on it is somehow counterproductive to why she’s here.

Why is she here?

Because the only reason he can conjure up has to do with the Coven, and the Council, and that’s why they’re enjoying nights like these at the Shift. To forget about everything that happened — to move on.

“Look, Izzy — if this is something that can wait, can it? I’ve got office hours tomorrow night—or hell, I’ll even come ‘round to the family house. But I do have somewhere to be, and I’m already late.”

When she takes stock of the room again he understands. It’s a tactic — and not a very good one — to allow her to think.

They’ve never been like this before. So why now?

It’s a brief flicker; blink-and-you-miss-it type. But Cadence doesn’t miss it — how Izzy stares at the chair claimed by Katherine in permanent marker.

“You’re going to meet her, the Nighthunter.”

“My friend Katherine, yes. Among others.”

“She treads dangerous waters in this town.”

It sounds a little too much like a threat for Cade’s comfort. Makes it a real effort to keep from letting it get to him.

“I think the same could be said for any hunter.” For Katherine, for Ryder.

“Yes, you would know,” she clasps the case handle with both hands over her front; a shield between them, “though this one — she’s different, isn’t she? She’s well-connected.”

Like he’s been fumbling around in the dark of his head — he finally finds the lamp chain and tugs. Lets the light flood through with an “Ah” of understanding.

So that’s what this is about.

“Contrary to what you may believe this isn’t the same world Carlo built his dynasty in. Humans — even Nighthunters and especially out-of-towners — they don’t whisper the rules to one another anymore.” Then, with firm conviction; “Katherine didn’t know she needed to ask your father for permission to bring Adrian Raines into town.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did.”

If she’s here to enact some sort of delayed punishment, Cadence can’t promise he’ll stay civil. “I weighed the risks carefully,” he continues, “and decided it was best for everyone that no one knew who didn’t need to know.” Not that it had been a good choice. Maybe it could have saved Raines at his trial.

Sometimes he wonders why the two of them didn’t work out — especially when she was Turned. It wasn’t because of her perceived age, and obviously being his boss’ daughter hadn’t stopped them from getting involved in the first place.

He always remembers not a moment later. There’s a reason the term is ‘opposites attract.’ They were too similar — too hot in the head and both prone to speaking and acting without thinking ahead. Without considering the consequences.

So when she isn’t sneering an insult at him on the heels of Cade actually admitting to his wrongdoing… he knows something is very wrong.

“Izzy…?”

And the smile she offers is too forced, too fake. Sends shivers down his spine. “I’m glad you see things that way.”

“What way?”

She unclasps the briefcase with a flick of her little fingers. “That sometimes, in rare cases I think, withholding knowledge from someone is for the best; for all parties involved.

“I had prepared to give you this the night of the Minotaur’s championship fight…” The leather bound folder she pulls free is familiar only in that he’s seen the de la Rosa lawyers carry them like extensions of their hands. “And I have spent many hours since debating whether or not I made the right choice in keeping it close. Watching you in the cage — that made it easier.”

“Something’s happening, Kath—”

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

Let it swallow you whole.

Katherine couldn’t possibly have known just how accurate she had been.

How it felt to stand at the edge of a yawning abyss no one else could see… and how it felt to have the ground fall out from under his feet the moment he decided to jump.

Memories of what happened after his meeting with Isadora still only came to him in clusters. It was less the act of remembering than feeling the same way — sensory triggers like the smell of blood or the tinny grate of a chain link fence.

Of course she had seen the fight. There were members of the underground community still who approached him on the street with praise for his ‘performance,’ or thanking him for standing up to the illegal deals Persephone covered with velvet and glitter.

But there’s a difference between knowing something and knowing it. Knowing the same hand he used to caress her cheek had also torn off the Minotaur’s horn. Knowing she was witness to it…

Isadora’s touch is solid, without the heat humans bring or the chill they feel. It simply is as she gives him the folder with no other choice. Whatever secrets rest inside they are his burden now.

“What you see here… I ask that you please not think less of me for keeping it from you. I was…” she doesn’t give an excuse — not a single one, “I was doing what I thought was right. But I cannot be the one to make that choice anymore. It’s too much Cadence; it’s far too much.”

He means to find comfort or some understanding in their hands. But there’s none to be found.

They pull away as intimate strangers. The space between them cavernous and echoing — and it only grows wider as he realizes she isn’t the one creating it.

He doesn’t need to ask what mystery he now holds.

What other mystery is there but the thing that has plagued him from their first “hello” to this their last “goodbye?”

Cadence’s voice is calm, even to his own ears. “Is this everything?”

“All that my daughter could find among his possessions.”

“And if I have any questions…”

“No,” she interrupts, “no you may not bring them to me. I would rather meet the sun than invite the conflict this will bring into my city, to my family’s doorstep.”

He wants to call her selfish but can’t say he wouldn’t be the same way were their roles reversed.

It’s a nice fantasy—altruism, kindness, doing the right thing so as not to hurt someone close—but it is a fantasy.

So what if he carried the ring she returned to him for a decade in mourning?

And intuition is a very separate thing from mind-reading; that he knows. In Isadora, though, the lines between them have always been a little smudged.

“In case you have any ideas of this meaning…” she breathes and tries again, “just know this has nothing to do with our past, Cadence. Consider this to be an act of release. Beyond what the Council will ask of us, I wash my hands of you.”

Isadora’s decision is as clear now as it was then. She will always choose her family over him. He can’t begrudge her that in the least.

“If only it were that simple.” But it’s probably for the best.

She leaves as abruptly as she arrived. Somehow with the ability to disrupt everything in his space without touching a single thing. As he looks around the office now it feels tainted with secrets and lies; all the things he still doesn’t know that now rest in his hand.

He need only look.

The chair is less than five steps away but he can’t muster the energy to move both his legs and arms; chooses the latter because what comparison is comfort to answers?

Cadence opens the folder and begins to read.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 2)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past. Hellbent spoilers.

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Arthur slipped into the garage, inhaling the lingering smell of oil and petrol. It's strangely comforting. Lance is standing with his back to him. He’s motioning to his assistant Darrel, leaning over an open car engine and pointing at something of interest. Around them, spare parts and various tools are hung in their places along the walls and stacked neatly on selves. The mundane sight is a balm to his completely shot nerves.

“Arthur,” his Uncle greets jovially, eyes still fixed on the car, “There you are. Get over here and take a look at this beast,”

Arthur automatically takes a step and hesitates. He’s is in his pyjamas, a lose faded t-shirt and shorts, and completely barefoot. Definitely, not workshop approved attire.

Lance steps back off the low foot-bench, used to reach into the tricker parts of car engines, glancing back, “Poor bastards broke down a few miles up.  New-fangled electric hybrid engine so I’ll get ya to take a look at it before anythin.”

Their eyes meet and he trails off, giving Arthur a once over. Lance immediately frowns and Arthur can practically hear the lecture on workshop health and safety forming in his Uncle’s head.

He quickly steps back into the doorway and blurts, “Sorry, um, could I borrow your phone for a second?”

Lance crossed his arms unimpressed, “Ya know that crap about shoes in the workshop is there for a reason, right.”

“Sorry, Sorry,” Arthur rubs the back of his head with his left hand. It’s nice to be able to do so without getting the strands caught in metal panels, “I, uh, forgot….”

“Hey Arthur, catch,”  Darrel, thankfully, interrupts his muddled excuse, tossing his phone from across the room.  Arthur spends a good few seconds fumbling the item, trying to adjust to his heightened levels of coordination. Mercifully, he doesn’t drop it. He shoots Darrel an appreciative glance.

“The password’s 1234,” Darrel grins and Lance gives them both an unimpressed stare.

“Thanks, Darrel. I’ll just go and…uh…get dressed?”

He starts to turn and beat a retreat. This is obviously not the time for attempting conversation, his was mind fumbling for sentences worse than usual. He hesitated mid turn because finding another phone had not been his objective when coming down here.

“Could you tell me the date real quick?” He asked, forcing himself not to fidget. Lance is now looking more concerned than annoyed, squinting at Arthur like he’s trying figure something out. His Uncle is blunt and to the point, hiding his inherently perceptive nature under a layer of grumpiness. He probably knows somethings up. Hopefully, it would be attributed to a poor nights sleep.

“It’s the 4th”

“and the year?”

Now Darrel is also looking confused, “2014?”

“Right. Thanks,” Arthur spins on his heel marching away, avoiding any incoming ‘are you okays’ and ‘Is something wrongs.’ It’s not the smoothest of exits but he honestly wasn’t feeling up for any more conversation. Not when his mind is buzzing with impossibilities.

Arthur walks straight back to his room. The old lock on his door is back and he fixates on it briefly before pushing inside.  His room is warming, morning light still spilling through the window. It catches on the peach-coloured wallpaper, giving everything an orange glow. It’s comforting and Arthur seats himself at a surprisingly sparse desk. There’s a small stack of notes filled with calculations and he puts Darrel’s phone down on top of them after quickly checking the date. Then he turns on his computer and checks there as well. It’s all the same. 2014. He glanced around for Galahad who was nowhere to be seen. Neither is his cage or tricked-out running wheel. But that makes sense. He had bought Galahad a year ago, meaning it would be a year until he saw the hamster again. Confusing and disappointing. He could really use a Galahad right about now.

So… date confirmed. 2014. He doesn’t know what it means and part of him still wants to grab his keys, drive into town, and question more people. The how’s, what’s and why’s circle around his head, leaving him at a loss.

Was he suffering a mental break? Was this the afterlife? One minute he’s falling and Lewis is…Lewis is… and the next minute he’s in bed and all the evidence is pointing to it being two years earlier. Only, that’s impossible, because time travel is impossible. Just like ghosts were supposed to be impossible. Arthur frowns, massaging his head. He had learnt that lesson the hard way. Answers, as par for the course, elude him.

Reluctantly, he dredges up recollections of The Cave. In his mind, it’s a muddled mess of twisted horror and agony. For the last two years, it had been a clouded nightmare, drawing him down into sharp teeth and pain. He was loathe to revisit it, especially now, when his mental facilities and energy were a few moments away from a complete meltdown. Arthur poked at the memories anyway, trying fruitlessly to dig up answers. He remembered entering the cave, walking down into the dark. Lewis’ form up ahead, torch in hand.

Something sliding into this mind, ripping him open. He was trapped in shadow. There was no way out. Ahead of him, Lewis walked, touch light dimming. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Nope. None of that. Arthur refocused, chocking off the worst of it. A few seconds of breathing exorcizes and re-centring later and he tried again. He remembered entering the cave. Losing sight of Lewis. Mystery. Losing his arm. Vivi’s panicked face before passing out. Then he had awoken in a hospital to lots of questions and no answers. Everything useful twist away, out of reach, taunting him. Police investigations had turned up nothing. Lewis was just gone. Not even a body left behind. The only one who probably had any clue was Mystery but the dog fluctuated between cagy to annoyingly vague on the details.  Arthur had never pressed for more. Maybe he should have. If Lewis had died that night and Mystery had known. Had known all along. Then Mystery had watched as he and Vivi drove from one side of the country to the other, searching fruitlessly. No… Mystery had watched Arthur searching. Vivi had just been along for the ride, humouring his chase, all memories of Lewis gone.

Unsteadily, he ran both hands through his hair, pulling lightly at the strands and taking solace in the sensation. If that ghost was Lewis. Then Lewis had died. He had probably died in The Cave, making Lewis the purple ghost who had tried to…in the same cave…had succeeded…in…killing…

His left-hand sparks, sending small shocks through his shoulder. It's beyond trashed but the sensation gives him enough awareness to move it up in a jerky action. In his desperation, he manages to hopelessly cling to the ghost’s arm.

Arthur rests his forehead down against his desk, curling up around his restored arm. Phantom pains run up and down its length. He’s breathing heavily again, gasping for air.

Suddenly it's Lewis. Lewis is there but his face is twisted and hateful. 

It takes a lot more than a few seconds but eventually he succeeds in pushing the memories and fear away, finding an equilibrium again.

Why?

The question hangs uncomfortably, weighing on his mind. With the information he has he doesn’t understand. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand now.

Arthur sits up and uncurls, leaning back on his chair to stare to the ceiling. Shakily, he wipes his face, rubbing the damp from his eyes. It doesn’t matter. Mystery. Lewis. If he was two years back in time then none of it mattered. Just more fuel for the nightmares, which would now be returning with a vengeance. He had been doing so well up until the mansion, managing a regular sleep schedule with seven full hours a night and everything.

For now, he leaves the conundrum alone, looking around for a distraction. There’s nothing of interest and he can’t for the life of him remember what he should be working on at this point in time. When had he finished that online engineering course? 2013? Arthur gets dressed and heads down to check out the hybrid engine his Uncle had mentioned before his abrupt exit.

Lance gives him a look when he returns but doesn’t mention Arthur’s odd behaviour. Darrel is there and he returns the guys phone, waving off another greeting. He slots back into the workshops routine without issue, listening to his Uncle and Darrel talk over their a recent acquisition as he examines, dismantles and reconstructs.  

Just as he’s feeling some sense of normality, relaxing into the work, there’s a familiar yell of greeting from outside the garage. Through the open roller doors, on the other side of the chain-link fence designed to keep out the general public, Vivi is waving to catch his attention.

“Hey! Arthur! Hey! Can you let us in the front! No one’s answering. I told you, you need a better doorbell!”

Uncle Lance straightens, shaking his head.

“That girl,” he huffs, turning to Arthur, “How about ya go let your friends in before someone decides to climb a fence. I think I got this covered.”

Arthur stares at Vivi who is still waving, attention shifting. Next to her is a familiar purple-clad shape. He’s standing, hands tucked casually in pockets, watching Vivi yell with a fond smile. Any form of relaxation instantly evaporates.

It's Lewis.

Note: Because people seemed to like the idea I decided to continue. I do have a part 3 planned but it’ll probably take a few days to finish. 

[angelccake]

Her, Chapter Two (M)

You and him have some dark, twisted history. You’ve spent the last two years of your life trying to forget it all. What’ll happen when all of it’s thrown back at you all at once?

Prologue

Chapter One

Word Count// 2139 

WARNINGS// strong language, blood/gore, torture, desecration of human remains, stalking, obsession, unhealthy relationships, character death, hints of anxiety disorder, mentions of substance abuse, rated m for future smut and grisly details

I’M IN NO WAY ENDORSING ANY OF THIS, IT WAS ALL WRITTEN FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. IF YOU ARE BOTHERED PLEASE DO NOT READ

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I woke up to everything hurting, especially my neck. I reached up to try and rub the pain away, only to realize I couldn’t move my arms.They were bound behind me and I could feel the distinct, cold metal of handcuffs around my wrists. Dread began to fill me and my mind began to replay all of the current, or past, events that I remembered. 

“You were looking for Changmin, you found him, some guy was stuffing him in the back of a car, the guy got a hold of you too, and you’re not dead. Yet.”

My mantra kicked my fight or flight instinct into high gear, I needed to find a way out of where ever the hell I am. I hoisted my upper body up, ignoring the pain of the handcuffs cutting into me, only to have the putrid smell of mildew and rotting wood hit my nostrils.

While gulping down the bile threatening to come up, I focused my eyes and saw that I was in a fucking cage. Not exactly a cell, but a damn five by ten dog kennel. The fear that ultimately consumed me dulled for a moment and allowed me to feel one other emotion, anger. Not only was I going to be restrained and have whatever done to me for someone’s amusement, I was going to kept up like a fucking pet as it all happened. I looked past the chain link walls of the cage to find the source of the stenches currently assaulting my nose.

The cage was in some type of building that looked like it hadn’t seen its prime in at least sixty years. This particular room, or floor, had a column of concrete  pillars that ran down the middle, leading up to a ceiling covered in mold and water stains poking through the white drywall. Hanging from the ceiling were rows of beam lights, but half of them were busted out. Those remaining seemed to illuminate the mold that covered nearly every square inch of the place. The walls were made of what was once bright red brick, but had then faded so much that only rusty colored globs remained. The floor was the same concrete as the pillars, but had broken wooden crates scattered all over and a lot more mold. The only appealing feature of the room was a wall covered in huge bay windows across from me. Unlike the rest of the room, all of the windows were kept intact and showed a beautiful dawn poking through tree tops. I wanted to just sit and enjoy the view, but a sickening feeling snatched me back to reality. Changmin was in the car before me, but he wasn’t in the room with me.

I started to whip my head to all corners of the room, I managed to get to my feet and walk back in forth in the cage, just trying my best to make sure I didn’t miss a single inch of the room. I was praying that he was slumped over behind one of the pillars, that he just hadn’t stirred awake yet. But it was in vain, I was completely alone. Just then an ear piercing, ungodly scream echoed through out the building.

Present Day

It had been nearly a month since I saw Tao, and Mrs. Kwon was still apologizing to me. I had told her everything that happened at the jail the day after, and she had the audacity to blame herself. She claimed that that she should have never asked me to go, that there was no way that I could have been ready for it. It broke my heart to see her beat herself up, I wanted to ingrain into her mind that she had no control over the situation. I thought I had took it all pretty well considering how I would have reacted in the past, and there was no way she could have controlled him. But I wanted to make her feel better, so I had been trying to show her that I was alright. I was making myself go out more, I actually made plans now, I was putting myself back into the world again. My friends certainly enjoyed it, especially Bokjoo. She was the closest out of all of them, but even she only saw me as some private homebody. But I was determined to change that, I was starting to feel like myself again. The Y/n before Tao, before everything.

Somehow during my quest Bokjoo had convinced me to start dating again. It had been a few nights ago when I had invited her for a wine night after work. I was surprised she had even agreed, she was so shocked that she had to sit in stare at me to make sure she heard me right. But after about two bottles we were acting like we had always been this close. I remember her slurring out,

“You know what Y/n? I don’t get why you don’t get out more, you’re fucking fun. You act like an old lady that’s scared of the outside world. You should go out and meet someone, let loose.”

I tried to look serious through my own drunkenness, and before I realized it said,”Oh yeah? I’ll show you I can get out. I bet you that I’ll have a date by this weekend.” And all she did was burst out laughing as I proceeded to download the best dating app I could find.

That’s how I ended up where I am today, at work with Bokjoo laughing her ass off, and me trying to glare at her with my own smile breaking through. She calmed herself down to a not so quiet giggle and sighed, “Y/n if I knew it would come true, I’d make drunk bets with you all the time.”

“Well in my defense, I’m used to things not going my way.”

I watched her lean all the way back in her “chiropractor recommended” computer chair, that I swore was going to snap any given day now, and start to chew a once undamaged ball point pen. And while blatantly ignoring all of the glares our desks mates were surely giving us, she pressed on. 

“So where’s he taking you?”

Now I leaned back in my “non recommended” chair and huffed, “He’s not taking me anywhere. I’m meeting him at some uppity restaurant on Main St.”

That got her attention, she discarded her savory pen and leaned over on her knees to get her face closer to mine. “What do you mean by “uppity”?”

“I mean I can’t even pronounce the name, and when I google it the price range is four dollar signs,” I watched as her eyes began to fill with excitement and mischief.

“You know what that means? He. Got. Money.,” she made sure to punctuate herself by poking me in the arm at the end of each sentence. 

“Or he got’s a credit card,” I snickered to myself.

“No just think about it, you seduce him long enough to get his bank info, transfer all the funds to yourself, and then split it with me,” she flicked her hand to herself and had so much pride in her plan, I couldn’t help but humor her.

“Okay I’ll try, but for now I think we better get back to work before someone calls HR,” I had noticed the glares had intensified and at least two people were contemplating who should start dialing. So she turned to face her keyboard, found her pen again, and probably started looking for some overdue data sheets.

I pulled myself up to my keyboard and tried to find something to work on, but I couldn’t focus. I was just too happy, Bokjoo’s antics seemed to lift all my fears for this date away. It reminded me why I agreed to it in the first place, I would be in control. I wouldn’t have someone telling me what to wear, what to eat, and I didn’t have to worry about what he would do after the date. Because it was all left up to me, I got to be my own person. I felt like a bird flying for the first time after a lifetime in a cage. I felt myself start to grin down at my keyboard, this was going to be the best date in long, long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I drove a serrated knife back into him as deep as I could, this time in the abdomen. Pulling out the blade painfully slow, I noticed how his excruciating screams had turned in to just loud gurgles of his own blood. And how his attempts to fight had begun to still, he still had a pretty good grip on the arm I was using to hold him up, but the other hand he was using to try and block the knife was limp at his side now. He honestly may not be able to use it anymore, I had almost severed it in half during one of his unsuccessful blocks. But alas, I was getting bored of him.

I decided to step back and actually take a look at him, only to figure out that his grip on my arm wasn’t part of a fight. It was his only way of keeping himself on his feet. He slid down the wall to the ground, his breathing becoming more labored. I had to admit he was handsome, he had dark brown, almost black, hair that matched his eyes perfectly parted to the side. Thick lips, a strong square jaw, and honey toned skin that made a strong contrast to the crimson covering the rest of him. He looked like the kind of guy you took home to your parents. I looked down to a thin neck covered in blue and purple splotches, following it down to narrow shoulders and a heaving chest, I made it down to his diaphragm that took most of damage. I had ran the knife through that area so many times that the shirt covering it was practically nonexistent. I noticed how each individual slit had fleshy shreds of tissue hanging from the cavernous entry wounds. That was the thing about serrated knives, they went in quick and clean, but did ten times more damage when they came out. But the wounds were beautiful in a way, they looked like blots of cerise with streaks of scarlet paint dripping from them.

As I was trying to take in every little detail, he started to convulse and his broken body started to lift. Now that I’d thought about it, he had never begged me to stop, or let go of him. He had fought me until his body wouldn’t allow him anymore, now that was admittedly admirable. I crouched down to him and ran the knife across his throat, watching how he didn’t even have enough blood in him for the artery to pour out like normal. I didn’t feel like dragging this out any longer, he wasn’t for sport, he was just an obstacle. After he finally took his last breath, I pulled out my phone and clicked the first number on my contact list.

“Hey Kris, its me. I’m finished over here, so start heading my way. And don’t forget my suit, I got a date to get ready for,” I said while looking down at the now black blood nearly my whole lower body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sitting in the back corner looking over scattered oak tables with white table clothes and stained glass flower vases full of lilies, up to the Parthenon inspired archways that lead to a service table with mini potted trees on either side, and past the gigantic lobster tank over to the French styled entry doors. After eyeing the couple of passerbys that trickled in, I decided to give up again and check my phone. I scrolled down to my messages from “Moon Taeil” and there it was, the exact message saying he’ll be here by 7:30. It was now 8:30, and the only thing keeping me here and not going home to binge on ice cream, was the bread sticks.

I put my phone down and reached to my purse for a compact to check my lipstick, it was a beautiful red that fit me perfectly, just like the dress I was wearing with it. While holding the compact up I glanced at my phone and saw that it was now 8:40, deciding it was time to leave I snap the compact shut and lean over my purse to pack up. As I was digging out my credit card and a tip, I heard the cushions on the chair in front of me squish as someone sat down.

“Hey, Y/n.”

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WHEW. Ok I know that I took forever with this chapter and if any of yall were planning to stay on board yall prob given up by now. But if you do read this I HOPE YOU ENJOY EVEN THOUGH ITS LONG AS FUCK. And yall get ready somebody’s back and ready to fuck shit up :)

All gifs belong to their original owners

[forestsstories]

Misfortune

There were a number of factors that contributed to the chain of events which led to a small kitten lying dead on a cold cement floor that evening in December. The first factor came into play before it was even born, in the form of a decision made by someone who would never even know of its existence. A decision made not out of desperation but merely convenience, to leave their male cat unaltered. It’s hard to say how many kittens were the result of this outdoor roaming tom, but this one certainly was.

“Stop! Mom Mittens got out!” The cry echoed through the home of the child, only six. The mother hesitated as she heard her child’s call. It was late, and she needed to get her daughter to bed. Mittens was an indoor cat, and only six months old she would probably come back in a couple hours. “That’s ok honey, she’ll be back soon. She probably just wants to explore.” An anxious knot formed in her stomach, but what could she do? Go out in the dark to hunt for the kitten that would probably make it back home before they did, and throw off the girls sleep schedule for her trouble? Not to mention worry her. “It’ll be ok, she’ll be back when you get up tomorrow, now go brush your teeth okay?” But it was not okay. About three blocks away a cat yowled, and our story begins.

“Mommy look how big Mittens is getting! Do you think she’ll have the kittens soon?” The frazzled mother released the breath she’d been holding “I don’t know honey. Probably.” The girl was definitely right, the poor creature’s stomach was huge with babies and she was almost a baby herself. She chewed her lip as she ran over the options for vet care in her mind. How did something like this even happen? It was hard to imagine a kitten becoming pregnant, and yet here was the proof. What if there was a complication? If she lost the litter, or one got stuck, the vet bills could easily cripple them. Then what if there were no complications? The cat was huge, how on earth was she going to deal with a litter of kittens? She sank to the couch to weigh their options as her small daughter sang songs to the expecting kitten. Who knew something she had adopted to make her daughter happy could cause such a huge mess?

The delivery thankfully went off without a hitch. The little girl squealed with delight when she came home to five perfect squirming little bundles of joy. Grey like their mother and letting out the tiny mewls only newborn kittens are capable of the mother breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they could handle this after all. She smiled when she gazed at her daughters beaming face. They were only kittens, she would find them homes when the time came. Who could possibly not want kittens?

The answer, as it turned out, was a lot of people. The other women in her mommy group, her sister in law, even the nice lady on the corner with the bowls of cat food beneath her front porch. Everyone she asked either didn’t want a kitten or had too many cats already. Six weeks. Eight weeks. Twelve. The kittens were tumbling around the house now, getting into anything not kept under lock and key. Her daughter was of course delighted by the mayhem but it was when she was finally at her wits end that the mother booted up her computer. It was time to return to just one cat, before she strayed any further down the rabbit hole of learning why crazy cat ladies are crazy.

“Free to a good home.” Words phrased with the best of intentions that none the less resulted in every last kitten’s demise. Two kittens were crushed beneath the tires of a truck at their new farm home. One perished from exposure when its new owner dragged it to the park and forgot to bring it home with them. Lastly, this one’s other sibling died at this one’s very first step on its tragically short journey. A nice little old lady stroked the baby’s head, smiling warmly as she assured the mother she would take good care of both kittens. A sigh of relief escaped the mother as she watched the box with the last two kittens vanish into her car. She would have no idea what became of the kittens. Was it her fault? I wouldn’t say so. How was she to know? She was just doing what she thought was best. What then, of the person who decided to skirt the vet costs of neutering their male? Certainly not the best decision, but who among us hasn’t put off something simply because it was inconvenient? It’s very hard to place blame, but the first home our kitten found itself in is certainly where I would lay the most.

Both kittens tensed from the moment the woman removed the box from her car. They had been wildly confused when six other kittens were picked up from various homes and added to the back seat, but now they were certain something was very wrong. Her brother mewled pitifully and curled into her as the box was handed over to a gruff looking man who slipped a crisp bill into the old woman’s hand. “Six? Looks good. I want another six next week okay?” A dull dread crept down the kitten’s back and it’s hackles raised as the stench it had smelled from outside got stronger. Loud growls and the clatter of chains upon the floor filled the air as the box was dropped roughly to the ground. The kitten gazed through a hole in the side of the box and couldn’t understand what the gruff man was saying to his colleague but stared intensely at the creature they were both praising.

Thick muscles bulged beneath skin that seemed stretched too thin over them. Flecks of drool sparkled on its chin as it gazed stupidly up at its masters. A slick sweat glistened on its thin fur and it’s yellowed teeth caught the light. Fearful mews erupted all around the kitten and it scooted to the back as the man stormed to the box. She flinched as the ground shifted beneath her from the force of his boot crushing in one side of their enclosure, and yet suddenly she saw her chance! A crack in the top of the box opened from the force of his boot, only for an instant but that instant was all she needed. Wings seemed to erupt from her spine and carry her to safety as she soared from the prison which had contained them and a panicked mewl was the last sound she would ever hear from any of her littermates.

Shouts filled the surrounding air and she froze momentarily. The animal which had previously looked docile and gentle exploded into a snarling beast. Its chain strained against the link which was attached to the wall and one of the humans calmly spoke while the other dove for her. Her panic took the form of flight and not a moment too soon as the chain was released by the calm human, and in an instant the eighty five pounds of pure muscle that made up the snarling beast was barrelling toward her. Breath came in short gasps as she made for her only hope of salvation. Her tiny muscles burned from fatigue as he gained on her with every step. Hot breath made her fur sticky and wet and yellowed teeth clamped down mere inches from her tail tip as she flung herself recklessly through a window and landed gracefully on the other side.

Her escape, though daring, left her with little idea of where to go next. She put as much distance as her legs would allow between herself and those yellowing teeth. Dusk was licking at the edges of buildings and casting an orange glow upon the scenery when she finally took stock of her surroundings. It was a posh place she’d found herself in, colourful flowers lined every path. Tall homes with perfectly manicured lawns stood proudly and the light of the setting sun reflected off the glittering cars which lined every driveway. A garden bed nearby looked particularly inviting, the dirt soft and fluffy from recent activity. An ashy and somewhat sour smell filled her nostrils as she sank her paws into the soil. The salty scent of the earth made her stomach growl uncomfortably as she relieved herself. She would desperately wish she had moved on mere moments later when an angry shriek reverberated around her.

The woman’s hands were a blur as she waved them erratically, a high pitched squeal directed at the animal that had befouled her precious garden. It is difficult to blame her if you have ever found an animal urinating on your hard work you may relate. The kitten’s breath was heavy by the time she had once again successfully outrun the current threat and her mouth felt like sandpaper. She dipped her muzzle into a small pool of stagnant water which would have been an unsightly eyesore in the last neighbourhood and had just gotten her first mouthful when an enticingly meaty aroma caught her attention. Her stomach growled again. Dinner was served.

She followed the scent to a small bowl which had been placed carefully inside of a steel box. Memories of tumbling playfully with her littermates in boxes warmed her heart as she crawled in, but this box was of course not like those ones. A loud clang erupted behind her and she whirled around. A door had closed, sealing both the box and her fate. She reached her tiny legs through the bars in a feeble attempt to escape but before an hour had passed resigned herself to her prison. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was still hungry and she inhaled the small bowl of meaty paste. It tasted sweet and salty and she relaxed a bit, curling on the cold pavement and waiting for morning.

Morning came with a jolt, her eyes sprang open as the ground shifted beneath her. A human lifted the cage which was her new home into the air and before she could brace for the impact the cage was thrust roughly into a much less shimmery vehicle than the ones that had lines the other driveways. Her heart beat like a bongo drum as the combination of new sensations overwhelmed her. A cry escaped her in the form of a tiny yowl, which continued until the vehicle came to an abrupt halt. The next few minutes passed in a blur as she struggled to understand precisely what was happening.

Before she could fathom any of it the human had gone, taking their clanging metal box with them. The ground beneath her paws was cold and hard. The air was rank with a sour chemical scent, and another human stood watching her. Trembling slightly she took a few steps to explore her new surroundings, recoiling immediately when she felt a human hand brush the tip of her tail. Two humans mumbled something between themselves before leaving her in the empty sterile room.

The weeks that followed things began to look up, the humans in this place seemed to be kind, much like the people that owned her mother. It was not long before a rumbling purr shook her in pleasure when she felt their fingertips stroking her fur. It was mere days later that she began to meet other humans. Some were small with grubby fingers, and some were taller with piercing gazes. It was one of the small ones which ended up offering her a home, for which she was grateful.

Her nose twitched as the box in which she had been stuffed was opened and she found herself once more inside a house. The air here lacked the stale scents of the place she had been taught to be hospitable and instead were welcoming and warm. It was a wonderful place to spend a few days, sadly that is all she would be allowed to spend there as before the sun had set on the third she felt a chubby fist close upon her tail and a jolt of pain shot through her spine as it tugged. I would like to think you have never felt spinal pain but if you have you will immediately understand the kittens reaction, which involved a flash of claws and a crying child. This of course meant that our kitten found herself once more outside in the cold, and this time it was much colder indeed.

A chill wind ruffled her fur, causing it to stand on end as she watched a mouse rifling through trash. She had been several days on the street now and was beginning to become accustomed to it. Her hunting was not what it could be and she had been subsisting mostly on scraps dug from the large refuse cans the humans liked to use, but she was determined to try. Her focus was steely and her muscles taught as she waited for the mouse to come more into the open. Her attention was so strongly focused on the task at hand she didn’t see or smell the other cat until she was on top of her.

Teeth sank into her shoulder before she had an inclination of what was happening and she kicked off with her back feet. Her shoulder throbbed and a deep growl emanated from her throat to ward off this predator. The mouse of course had vanished and anger surged through her at the lost meal, propelling her forward and her teeth also met flesh while her claws tore frantically at the other cats fur. Her tail lashed back and forth as she felt a slice through the tender skin of her ear. A cry escaped her and she struggled to return fire. A yell from a nearby window shook both cats and they sprang apart as a large boot was suddenly between them. The adrenaline broken the kitten suddenly desperately wanted to flee, and managed to put several blocks between herself and her aggressor. The damage however was done, and a few short days later an empty stomach was the least of her concerns.

She had a hard time holding herself up when she found herself back on the hard examination table at the shelter where she’d been adopted. A kindly stranger had found her staggering and dropped her off there, she hadn’t even seen their face but started purring the moment they lifted her into their arms. Their touch had been gentle and they had spoken with a coo while they carried her. Her ear felt warm and she dug her claws into the strangers shirt wishing desperately they were here to take her home. But she was back here again, and while the people around her were kind, their voices sounded worried. She lay her head down, closed her eyes so she could no longer see the crust around them and waited.

A soft hand stroked her and she heard that same soothing tone to the person’s voice as she opened her eyes to gaze into their face. Their eyes were not red with tears, but were not untroubled either. “Shh…. It’s alright.” She didn’t understand the words, but they brought some comfort anyway. Her chest heaved and rattled with infection and she hardly flinched as a needle pinched its way into her vein. Moments later her eyes felt heavy and she allowed them once more the drift closed, not knowing that they would never again open. The last thing that reached her before she fell into the soothing abyss were two words that in that moment she actually did understand. “I’m sorry…”

Our kitten was one of many cats that lost their lives that evening, for various reasons. Whether they were too feral, or ill, or simply too old each one likely had a story similar to this one. In the end the world did not mourn for the loss of one small kitten, but it was a loss none the less, and no less tragic for the fact that the poor creature never experienced what it was to be truly, deeply, loved.

[gggbtswillbethedeathomeggg]

Arranged - Chapter 4 BTS MafiaAU!

Description: (Y/N) was born and raised in her father´s mafia. She has always wanted to get out of the mafia life for as long as she can remember wanting to live a normal life. She get´s promised that on her 21st birthday she´s free to leave her father´s mafia, but on her 18th birthday, her present from her father is a marriage contract to none other than Min Yoongi, mafia leader of BTS.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 5401 

Warnings: Language, human trafficking, mentions of prostituetes, shooting

A/N: Hello again and welcome to Chapter 4 of Arranged. I had a lot of fun writing this and thank you for all of your likes, I really appreciate it.

I don´t have much to say about this Chapter other than I hope you will enjoy this as much as the other chapters so yeah enjoy!!

P.S. This is my secondary blog and my primary one is called @neonbrainfreze so it will be that one I answer with when you guys comment on my posts and stuff like that.

Tags: @aquietkerfuffle, @twilight-loveer, @anaspectofsociety

Masterlist

Character Aesthetics, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7(Final)

It was the day after your little fight with Jungkook and you were currently sitting in a van with Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Taehyung, Sohee and Sora. The rest of the gang, with Peter being the driver, was in another van driving right behind you. Hoseok was driving with Yoongi sitting shotgun besides him. You were placed behind Yoongi together with Taehyung and Sohee while Jin and Sora was sitting behind you.

You were all going on a mission at a rivaling gang, The Silver Backs, at their casino called ´Casino Royal´. They owed Yoongi a lot of money and drugs. He had paid a lot of money for some really rough and expensive drugs that were all the rage right now at rave parties. However, they had fooled him and kept the drugs and the money all to themselves, which was a big mistake.

So now, you were going over there to get your drugs and money back, probably a little more than what you had paid for and probably a little more money than you had paid with.

You were looking down at your hands for the whole drive. They were all bruised up, the colors blue and purple covering every inch of them. The bandages you had wrapped around your hands hadn´t done much to protect them from how hard you had been punching the sandbag. You pulled down the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing to cover them up, wishing you had brought a pair of your fingerless cloves with you.

Suddenly a scratching noise came from the radio. It was linked to the other van so you could still talk with the others while driving. “Okay, let´s just go over the plan one more time before we arrive at Casino Royal,” came Namjoon´s voice from the radio. “Peter and Hoseok are driving us all over to the casino and dropping us off except for Yoongi and Taehyung who are going to an apartment building nearby. There Taehyung will be ready to hack their computer and security system and Yoongi will be ready with a riffle to shoot if anyone from The Silver Backs managed to escape. Peter and Hoseok will be waiting in the vans ready to drive back when were done and have the money and the drugs. The rest of you will spread out, scout out anyone who´s a member of The Silver Backs, and shoot to kill them. Irene and I will go to their brothel and rescue the girls they keep captive there,” at Namjoon´s last statement someone, probably Irene, let out a huff of air.

You didn´t like Irene, or her husband, at all or her position in the gang, but you did admire how she took care of her girls. She didn´t like the terms slut, whore, bitch or even prostitute and referred to them as girls, even the ones that were older than she was. When she was out on missions, her job was to find the prostitutes and offer them a solution. Either they could leave right then and there and never come back, but some, apparently, still wanted to stay in the industry. It was the only thing they had known their whole life since they had been human trafficked from a very young age. Those, she offered that they could stay with her and she would take care of them.

“As soon as you find the drugs and the money that they owe us you call everybody else and then we leave as soon as possible,” Namjoon continued over the radio. “And one last thing. (Y/N) you´re going to stay right beside Jin or Sora and for the life of you, you do not leave their side once. Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yeah, I understand,” you answered quickly since you didn´t want to get scolded over a freaking radio.

“Guys were here,” Hoseok, said drawing everyone´s attention to him. The casino came into view and Hoseok pulled up to the curb so you could get out of the van. You got out of the van with Jin, Sohee and Sora and looked to the side to see Peter pull up right behind the first van. The doors opened and out walked Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Irene and three of Irene´s girls. The three girls were there to make it easier for Namjoon and Irene to get down to the brothel, making it look like they wanted to sell them.

“Okay let´s go everybody,” Namjoon said already walking up the stairs to the casino with Irene and her girls following closely behind. You started walking towards the stairs with the rest, but before you had reached them, a voice called out to you.

“(Y/N),” it was Yoongi who had called and you looked over at him, waiting for what he wanted to say to you. He had rolled down the window, slightly leaning out of it to talk to you. “Be careful in there and don´t do anything rash or stupid,” and with that he rolled up the window and Hoseok drove off.

Jin called after you and you turned around and slightly ran up the stairs to catch up to the rest. You entered the casino together with Jin and Sora and saw Jimin, Jungkook and Sohee going off to somewhere in the casino to look for their stash of drugs and money. Namjoon and Irene were already gone, but you could see some to the right stare after something and you guessed that it was Irene´s girls. You, Jin and Sora took off to the left and started looking too.

You had walked around in the casino for a while looking for something that looked suspicious when you suddenly heard loud gunshots go off somewhere and screams from the guests quickly erupted. Everything was chaos within seconds and Jin was fuming with anger.

“Didn´t those idiots put a silencer on their guns?” he yelled over the noise. Sora opened her mouth to say something when her phone started ringing. It was Jungkook. She answered the phone, pressed it to her hear while bringing her other hand up to her other ear to try to drown out some of the screams. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she looked at Jin.

“Jimin has been shot by one of The Silver Backs. He recognized them and that’s where the gunshot came from,” she yelled. Jin muttered out swear words that you couldn´t hear when his phone started ringing. He took the call without looking at the caller id. He suddenly looked at you.

“Sohee has found their stash, (Y/N) you need to go over to help her, she´s in the back and you need to go through the kitchen to get there. Sora and I will go to help Jimin and Jungkook. Meet us out the front in ten minutes so we can get the hell out of here,” Jin yelled to you. You gave him a quick nod and ran off to the restaurant area to run through the kitchen.

As you ran, you pulled out your gun with the silencer on it ready to shoot any of The Silver Backs you met. You managed to shoot four of them as they had noticed you running and had probably figured out where you were going. You ran straight through the double swing doors and met even more people from The Silver Backs. There were five of them and you managed to shoot three before you had to hide behind the tables. The last two kept shooting at you, but they kept missing and you knew that they were just rookies. You heard that they had now both run out of bullets and they were frantically looking for new magazines hidden in there jackets.

Sensing from their frantic breathing you knew that they were probably forced to partake in the mafia and you knew what that was like. Wanting to spare them for those reasons you opted to shoot each of them with a clean shot through one of their thighs. You heard them scream out in pain and falling to the ground and you quickly jumped out of your hiding spot. You only sparred them a quick glance, seeing them clutching their legs in pain, and ran straight for the double doors in the back of the kitchen.

You were now standing in a dark hall with completely bare walls. The air was cold and moist and the smell of mold were so strong it made your eyes tear up a little. You pulled your sleeve down over your hand, bringing it up to cover your mouth and nose from the horrible smell.

You started walking to your right to find Sohee and help her with the drugs and money. You continued down the hall and saw a door on your left. It was slightly opened ajar and you walked closer to it to check if Sohee was in there, but as you got closer, you could hear quiet sniffling and people hushing each other. You walked closer to the door and slightly raised your gun, pushing the door open with your foot. You jumped into the room raising your gun entirely, ready to shoot, but what met your eyes made you lower it immediately.

Small children, both boys and girls, were scattered all over the room, the youngest not looking older than five and the eldest looking around twelve years old. Some of them had big chains around their wrists or ankles locking them to the walls. Some were tied to chairs with either duct tape, rope or handcuffs. The smallest and youngest looking were, in groups from four and up to seven, locked in cages that were excessively too small for them, some of them weren’t even able to sit upright in them.

You quickly put you gun away and looked at a boy and girl sitting in chairs in the middle of the room. They looked like they were the oldest and you quickly ran over to them. They both had duct tape around their wrists and ankles and you started removing it from them.

“Keys,” The girl said to you, looking at you with big scared eyes. “Do you have the keys to the chains and cages?” she asked you.

“No, I don´t,” you answered her as you had finished removing the duct tape from around both of her wrists. “Do you know where they are?” you asked continuing to help the boy out of his restraints.

“There´s a big fat guy that has them hanging from his belt,” the girl told you as she bowed down to untie her ankles. As soon as she was free, she went to help the other kids tied down with rope and as soon as the boy were free you pulled out your phone to call Sohee. You had barely lifted the phone to your ear when Sohee picked up.

“Where the hell are you!?” she yelled at you, clearly mad that you weren’t there to help her. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible!”

“Sohee, there´s a room in the hall behind the kitchen with a bunch of kids trapped in cages and tied down to chairs. I think they´ve been kidnapped and being trafficked and sold,” you frantically gasped out. There were dead silent on the other end of the line.

“SOHEE!” you yelled, slightly starting to panic now. You didn´t have any keys so you couldn´t help all of the kids that were trapped in the room and time was starting to run out fast.

“Okay, just stay with them and I´ll send some of the others to help you,” Sohee answered you and you could hear a tone of panic in her voice too. “And don´t worry about me, I´m gonna get someone else to help me with the money and drugs.”

You tried to thank her, but before you could, she had ended the call. You put your phone away again when you suddenly heard some of the kids gasp and then a male voice booming through the room.

“HEY, who the hell are you?!” You turned around facing the door and saw a tall overweight man standing in the doorway staring at you. You looked down at his belt, seeing a gun on his left side and a set of keys on his right. On instinct, you both reached for your guns and pulled the trigger at the same time.

Some of the kids started screaming behind you as you had shot him straight in the chest. He fell to the ground with a loud bang and you hurriedly ran over to him. You kneeled down beside him, opening his belt and pulled the keys off it. There were three keys and you gave one to the girl, one to the boy and kept the third yourself. You hurried them to start unlocking the locks were the keys would fit to get the kids out as quickly as possible.

“(Y/N), what the hell is this?” you suddenly heard someone gasp out behind you. You looked over your shoulder and back at the door to see Namjoon and Irene standing there with shocked looks on their faces.

“I don´t have time to explain now. We have to get them out,” you told them and they both nodded at you. All the kids were now free of their restraints, all of them standing, shivering, in the middle of the room. You walked over to them and crouched down in front of them.

“That´s Namjoon and Irene, they are my friends and they´re here to help you, and neither of them will hurt you. We’re gonna get you out, but you have to do everything we tell you too, okay?” you asked them, looking around as they all nodded at what you said to them. You ushered them over to were Namjoon and Irene were standing and you quickly surrounded the kids so, if anyone wanted to get to them they would have get through you three first.

As fast as you could, you walked out of the room and straight through the kitchen all of you with your guns raised and ready to use if necessary. As you reached the double doors, which led out to the casino itself, Namjoon stopped you all and looked out of the small circular window in the door. He turned back around, but he had a quizzical look covering his features.

“There´s completely empty out there,” he said to you.

“Wait, what?” Irene said, looking confused at him. “That´s not possible. It was completely packed with people when we ran to the kitchen,” and that´s when you heard it.

There was a faint sound of police sirens in the distance and then you heard a loud crash from the entrance of the casino. Namjoon looked back out through the window and started cursing under his breath.

“The cops are out there. We have to leave the kids here and get out of the back entrance before the cops can get to there,” he said. He and Irene didn´t waste any time and started running back to the hall you just came from, but you stood your ground with the kids.

“We can´t just leave them here. We have to take them with us!” you yelled after them. Irene quickly ran back to you grabbing your wrist with an iron fist and yanked you after her.

“The cops are out there and will find them and take care of the rest, but if they find us we´ll end up in prison for being in a mafia,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled you out into the hall and turned right, running after Namjoon. You felt your blood pumping through your veins with adrenalin as it downed on you what would happen if the cops caught you. You kept running after Namjoon and Irene when you finally saw the back entrance of the casino.

Namjoon pushed the door open and it was thankfully unlocked. You all ran out into a back ally where the vans was already waiting for you with the engines on. Namjoon and Irene ran over to the van Peter was driving and you looked over to the one with Hoseok behind the wheel and saw Taehyung quickly opening the door so you could quickly jump in and drive away from the casino.

When you were finally in the van and felt it driving away from the back ally, you let out a long sigh. You rolled back your shoulders, feeling how tensed they had been since you had found the kids. You leaned your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, feeling the adrenalin slowly leave your body.

You suddenly felt a hand being laid on your knee and you quickly sat up, opening your eyes to see Yoongi had turned around in his seat looking at you worried.

“(Y/N) what happened in there? Irene called us, saying something about you finding some kids in there,” he asked you.

“Yeah, they were locked in cages and chained to the walls like they were some kind of wild animals,” you answered, slightly panting as you tried regaining your breath.

“Oh god,” he groaned out in a strained voice. “They were probably selling them as working slaves and-“ he continued, but he didn´t get to finish his sentence as you felt a searing pain rip through your left ribs. You gasped in pain, hunching forward while grabbing your side.

“(Y/N) what´s wrong? What happened?” Yoongi yelled at you, but you couldn´t answer him as the pain was unbearable. You saw Taehyung move closer to you, taking a hold of one of your hands and removing it from your side.

“Crap,” he growled out, looking at your hand that was covered in blood. “She´s been shot.”

“WHAT!?” everyone in the van yelled in unison and you heard both Jin and Sora lean forward in their seats to look at your side.

“Taehyung start applying pressure to the wound, she´s awfully pale and has probably lost a lot of blood,” Sora said, her voice calm and firm. Taehyung did as he was told and removed your other hand and started pressing down hard on your bullet wound. You whimpered, the pain being unbearable, and you heard Yoongi muttering curses and telling Hoseok to drive faster.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) listen to me,” Jin said while taking a hold of your shoulder and pulling you back against the car seat. “When did this happen?” he continued asking, tightening his hold on your shoulders when you winced in pain, trying to lean forward again.

“I-I don´t know,” you barely gasped out, but you did know. It was the fat man from when you were in the room with the kids. He was the only one that could have shot you, the rookies from the kitchen not even being remotely close to grazing you. The adrenalin had been coursing through your veins fast enough for you not to feel anything when it happened.

Your breathing started to become shallow and you were sweating profusely as you started to feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness. You could hear muffled voices crying out your name, but you couldn´t tell which voice belonged to who as everything around you became dark and quiet.

***

You were laying in your bed when you slowly woke up. The sheets and duvet covers were soft and hugging your body as you tried to fall asleep again, but the sun wouldn´t let you. You let out an annoyed huff when the sun shinned you straight in the face. You tried turning around to lay on your side to hopefully block some of the light out, but when you started moving a pair of hands came to hold your shoulders, hindering all of your movements.

You groaned out in frustration and tried to swat away the hands. However, when you started moving your arms around a soft voice started hushing you while one of the hands holding you down came up to slowly caress your cheek.

“Hey, don´t move around too much or you´re gonna hurt your wound,” the voice said and you slightly recognized it as Yoongi´s.    

This confused you a lot because you didn´t have any wounds, what the hell was he talking about. Still with your eyes closed, you furrowed your eyebrows and you could hear Yoongi slightly stifling a small laughter, the sound making something warm course through your body.

“What wound? I don´t have any wounds,” you said with a hoarse voice from sleeping.

This only made Yoongi laugh even more now. “Yeah, Sora and Jin has drugged you up pretty good to make sure you would get a peaceful sleep after what happened yesterday,” he said worry now overtaking his laughing voice. Your eyes suddenly flew open when it downed on you all of the things that happened last night.

You were shot and even though you were pretty high on painkillers you could feel yourself starting to panic. You started roaming your hands up against you side until you felt a big band-aid covering almost your entire left side. Even though you have been on plenty of missions with your fathers gang you´ve never been shot before.

Yoongi sensed your panic state and quickly grabbed a hold of your hands, pulling them towards him as he slowly hushed you. Your breath slightly caught in your throat and Yoongi moved one of his hands from yours and slowly ran it through your hair to calm you down.

“Shh, it´s okay, the bullet only graced your side and didn´t get stuck or anything, it´s just a flesh wound,” he said in a quiet voice, instantly calming you down again. You´ve had flesh wounds before and you always got over them pretty quick so you could go back out on missions.

After you had calmed down a little and gotten used to the sunlight beaming through the windows you looked up at Yoongi properly this time. He looked extremely tired like he hadn´t slept at all. The bags under his eyes were dark and prominent and his gaze were slightly hazy and weren´t able to focus on something for very long.

Slowly you lifted your hand up to his face, slightly hesitating halfway, and caressed his cheek stroking it with your thumb. He closed his eyes leaning in to your touch and you felt your heart swell and quicken at his actions.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, concern lacing your voice as you looked at him worried. “You look very tired.”

At this, he opened his eyes and looked at you fondly. You started to feel uneasy since no one, not even your parents, had looked at you like that. His hand came up to yours on his cheek and grabbed a hold of it, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

“Yeah I´m fine, it´s you I´m worried about,” he said while yawning at the end of his sentence.

“Are you sure? You look like you haven’t been sleeping all night,” you asked him with concern still filling your voice. At this, Yoongi only smiled softly at you.  

“Well I haven´t exactly been sleeping all night so…” he answered you, trailing of at the end.

“What?! Why not?” you gaped at him.

“I was worried about you and I didn´t want you to wake up all alone after last night,” he said as a sorrowful look came over his features. “It was your second day being my wife and your first mission and you got shot.”

Your heart started aching when you saw how worried he really was and all you wanted to do was to see his gummy smile and hear his bubbly laugh. You pulled your hand out of his grasp, scooted to the side a little, and laid back down. Yoongi looked at you quizzically and a small giggle left your mouth at the look on his face before you patted down on the bed next to you. He immediately laid down, wriggling himself under the covers, beside you and laid his arm under your neck so you could rest your head against it. He reached over your stomach and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and laid them across his stomach. The butterflies were going crazy in your stomach and you were starting to think that they had nested down there or something.

Yoongi yawned once again beside you and you turned to look up at him and saw that his eyes were closed now. You knew you should let him get some sleep, but you wanted to ask him something.

“Yoongi, what´s your gang name?” you asked and you felt him shift slightly to look down at you. “You never told me, but all the others have.”

“It´s Suga,” he answered you and that made you furrow your eyebrows slightly.

“Suga, like the drug?” you asked and he nodded in reply.

“I was the one who made it,” he mumbled. Suga was a very strong drug and it was the most sought out one. It was something that would always be at a party for people to get high on. “Now, I wanna ask you something,” Yoongi continued. “Why did you think I would force myself on to you on our wedding night? I sent your father the contract for you to look it over.”

“Wait you did?” you asked him in disbelief. “He never showed it to me, but now that I think about it, it doesn´t really surprise me,” you added on.

“You´re not very close with your parents I guess,” Yoongi inquired.

“Well I was pretty close with my mother, but after two miscarriages she was never herself and we kind of slipped away from each other,” you admitted in a quiet voice. “And with my father, we were never really together because he was always out on missions and, to be honest, he would rather have a son than a daughter,” you were slightly hissing out the last part. The thought of you and your father’s relationship always made you feel slightly angered.

At this Yoongi gave your shoulder a slight squeeze and laid a kiss on your temple, making it feel like the butterflies in your stomach had taken the drug Suga. “What about you? You told me your parents were away a lot too so I take it you weren’t close with them either?” you queried Yoongi.

“I was actually very close with them or I am still very close with. I talk to them almost every day,” he told you and this surprised you, making you sit up to look down at him questioningly.

“What do you mean with you are close with them? I thought they died in an accident years ago,” you marveled at him. This made Yoongi chuckle at you before he pulled you back down again.

“We faked their death and they now live in Maui, Hawaii under a fake id protected by Taehyung,” he told you. “And hopefully the same will happen to us when we grow old and have a son to take over the gang,” he continued.

“But, what if I won´t have sex with you ever?” you asked him because, to be honest, the thought of having sex with Yoongi were scaring you just a little bit, but also slightly exciting you.

“Well, the contract states that we have to produce an heir, that was the deal I made with your father,” Yoongi stated and it made you scoff a little. “But if you don´t want to have sex with me, we´ll go to a fertility clinic and get an insemination,” he continued telling you.

“Wait really?” you asked in disbelief. You had not expected this at all.

“Of course,” Yoongi said, giving your hand a small squeeze. “If you don´t want me inside of you, I won´t get inside you,” he added on and his statement, practically, mortified you. Your face turned a bright red color and you tried covering you face with your hands, but Yoongi wouldn´t let you. “You´re the most adorable thing I have ever seen when you blush like that,” he chuckled out.

“Yoongi,” you whined which only made him chuckle even more.

“No, but seriously,” Yoongi said, his voice sounding very professional now. “Even if my life depended on it, I would never force myself on to you.” After his statement, Yoongi let out a small yawn and you could see how much he needed sleep now.    

“Yoongi you should get some sleep now,” you mumbled out in a quiet voice.

“So should you,” Yoongi said, his voice slightly slurring now.

“Don´t worry, I will,” you replied, but Yoongi were practically sleeping now his chest moving up and down in a slow pace. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but you couldn´t and you decided that a quick shower wouldn´t hurt anyone. You got out of bed carefully since you didn´t want to wake up Yoongi and went to the bathroom.  

When you were in the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror over the sink and took of your shirt. You were still wearing your bra underneath, thank god, and inspected the band-aid. You could see that it was waterproof and with that, you stripped out of the rest of your clothes and got under the shower.

After your shower, you had originally planned to go back to bed and try to sleep some more, but the painkillers were starting to wear off. Therefore, you quickly got dressed and walked out to find either Jin or Sora to ask for some more painkillers.

However, there were just one little problem. No one had given you a proper tour of the mansion and you were completely lost. You were wandering around in the big mansion when someone called after you.

“(Y/N), wait up!” and you recognized it to be Jimin´s voice. You turned around and saw him walking up to you and you remembered hearing that he were shot too at the casino. You took a closer look at his figure and noticed that his left shoulder looked slightly bigger than his right.

“Hey Jimin,” you said with slight hesitance in your voice. The last time you had spoken to him, was when he had helped you with your injured hand in the gym, and to say he wasn’t your biggest fan there, would be an understatement. “I heard you were shot last night at the casino too,” you continued once he had caught up to you.

“Yeah, a clean shot through the left shoulder,” he answered. “And you?”

“Flesh wound to the left ribs,” you told him.

“I guess we were both lucky and I also guess you´re looking for Jin or Sora to give you some more painkillers?” Jimin continued as he started walking forward with you following him.

“Yeah, do you know where they are?” you asked. “And what the time is,” you added on.

“I don´t know where they are hiding, but we can look for them together and it´s 4 PM in the afternoon,” he answered you.

“Wait, 4 PM, but then I have been-“ you started saying before Jimin interrupted you.

“Yeah you´ve been out for hours so believe it to be Jin and Sora´s fault with drugging you up as much as they have-“ Jimin were saying, but something distracted you from listening. There were a weird smell in the air. It almost smelled like… Chloroform!

“Jimin, do you smell-!” but before you could finish your sentence, someone had knocked Jimin out cold and he was laying on the floor. Before you could even react to what was happening a cloth was laid over your mouth and nose and an arm had pinned yours to your side.

You started thrashing around with your legs, trying to get out of the hold, when you saw a figure moving out of the corner of your eye. Your vision was starting to blur and go dark, but before everything disappeared into darkness, you saw the last person you would have expected to see in Yoongi´s mansion.

Because the person that was standing in front of you was Vijin.

[stone-man-warrior]

February 21, 2021: 1:09 pm:

==================================================

This WH Press Sec Psaki Tweet leads to @Jonkarl Verified Account on Twitter.

https://twitter.com/PressSec/status/1363477765211701253

This from Scalis is there, it’s an offer to take some gold for free, but @Jonkarl fails to accept the golden opportunity that Scalise handed to him.

At the 1:00 mark:

Scalise said he had been to Donald Trump’s home, and spoke with Donald Trump about his post presidency personal life, including what Mr. Trump’s plans for the future are with respect to himself and family, and @Jonkarl miserably fumbles that hand off, skirts the questions that could have been a gold mine of information that no one else has, but Scalise says he has that kind of information, the kind that you cannot get ... Karl goes the other way, runs backwards, does not take the gift he was given by Scalise.

What you need to know about that, is both Scalise and Karl set that up, it’s about the cry for help I sent to the Biden White House, and, by extension is also about the same kind of cry for help I sent to the Trump White House just over for years ago. They are using “news Anchor insider tactic” in such a way as to say that this account here at Tumblr that you are reading, contains the kind of information that is not available any where else on earth. It’s Unobtainium. Karl’s refusal to take the golden oportunity is a message sent to others, one that specifies the desired result, that is to make sure that no one can see the information presented on this Stone-Man-Warrior@Tumblr.com account of eye-witness terror.

The two suggest a distraction, a “look the other way” sort of command to terror operatives who are also part of the national security chain of command.

https://twitter.com/ThisWeekABC/status/1363503951782494209

https://twitter.com/ABCPolitics/status/1363491357340413957

https://twitter.com/ThisWeekABC/status/1363492941738749952

https://twitter.com/ThisWeekABC/status/1363494344234311684

Those other links above are more sinister, because those are instructions to kill & replace US School students.

It’s a double header though, because those three linked tweets also spell out a hit to be done at the DMV when I go there to renew my drivers license.

Watch the linked videos, where you see the color green, you are seeing instructions to use nitrous oxide gas as a weapon in similar places when the school student murders take place.

Where you see the color red in those videos, that is instructions that spell out where the protected killing areas are going to be in place, where the murderers will have cover from the State Police, the police fake, are from Canada, are Royal Canadian Mounted Police disguised as State Police, and they protect the murderers of the US Children, in favor of replacing all of the children with their own Canadian terror army children, the same way they did in the Oregon schools in around 1998 - 2005.

They killed the elementary students first, the middle schools later, and the high school students were killed and replaced last, when the terror attacked the Three Rivers School District, it may be done differently in other school districts.

===========

1:49 pm:

The baby is on fire, there is no one watching the baby.

The terror army simply moves from state to state, city to city, killing and replacing the state police with help from SAG shill elected state governors. Then, once all of the law enforcement has been replaced with SAG and Canadian terror operatives, they just start slaughtering the children, and the general population is also killed as a result of taking over the schools.

I strongly advise to be very suspicious of Freeway and other major infrastructure upgrade projects, road building, bridge replacement, other major city and state infrastructure projects nation-wide at this time. Those kind of projects are used as the basis of manpower and for disposal of dead victims. They serve as distraction, confusion, road-block, detour generators that make it far more difficult to detect that any mass murdering is happening. Those kinds of projects cause delay and danger for investigative persons, who are easily detoured into traps set the Department of Transportation workers.

In Oregon, there was a ten year long project that was used in parallel to the mass murder slaughter of the population between 1996 and 2006 when all of the bridges in Oregon were removed and replaced, a massive undertaking in more ways than one. After that, Beta Twitter was used as a command vehicle to role out the Corona Virus Phase of the slaughter, for eliminating the other remaining US Citizens who were not killed by other means when the schools, grocery stores, courts were hijacked, and the Oregon Bridge Project from 1996 - 2006 was used before hand as an orchestrated combination plate of terror slaughter.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5fezBnvkiU

Baby's on Fire

Brian Eno: 1971

Baby's on fire Better throw her in the water Look at her laughing Like a heifer to the slaughter

Baby's on fire And all the laughing boys are bitching Waiting for photos Oh the plot is so bewitching

Rescuers row row Do your best to change the subject Blow the wind blow blow Lend some assistance to the object

Photographers snip snap Take your time she's only burning This kind of experience Is necessary for her learning

If you'll be my flotsam I could be half the man I used to They said you were hot stuff And that's what Baby's been reduced to...

Juanita and Juan Very clever with maraccas Making their fortunes Selling second-hand tobaccoes

Juan dances at Chico's And when the clients are evicted He empties the ashtrays And pockets all that he's collected

But Baby's on fire! And all the instruments agree that Her temperature's rising But any idiot would know that.

Songwriters: Brian Eno

For non-commercial use only.

Data from:

Musixmatch

===========

1971.

Think about it.

===========

4:24 pm:

Local Conditions:

Local conditions are made difficult to say as my computer is about six different kinds of hijacked after venturing out for a short walk to the mailbox in the wake of sending a request to the White House for help to stop terrorism and mass murders of millions of people in Oregon last week.

I took a short walk, observed that my heater compressor outside is still completely caked with ice surrounding the unit, worse than before, and it’s not really all that cold outside.

I went towards the driveway where it gets near the Offensive Monroe Surveillance Travel Trailer, and there I saw a new terror operative sitting on a bench while watching the activities of a small black & white rabbit as it was eating something from a basket in a cage out front of that Travel Trailer. The woman there has been there in the past, a few years ago with the same rabbit in the same cage with the same Easter Basket.

She is best described as a young George Castanza, from Sienfeld fame as far as a physical description goes. The woman has short brown hair cut like a boys hair cut, had glasses on, and was wearing a black sweatshirt and black sweat pants.

I could see there was some small pink flags in the roadway ahead from there, so, I went on my way to the mailbox, and saw that there are some pink ribbons lining the east side of Jackpine from the corner where the trashcans are, to the Clyde Baum terror cell at 333 Jackpine, maybe beyond that. The ribbons are low on the ground, and are accompanied with the kind of small marking flags that are used by contractors for marking out where excavation or trenching is to be done, so, there must be some Pacific Power Thompson toting Pac-Pow trucks nearby with those Trench Markers there across the street from my driveway like that.

After five days of not going to the mailbox, or going outdoors at all in fear of retribution from the Joe Biden White House for having reported terrorism and mass murder, there was no US Postal Mail inside my mailbox, there was, however, one card, the kind that a traveling salesman puts on the doorknob to say they came by the house, a “Door Hanger Card” (Ron Howard Sponsored Master Class Advertisement) from Josephine County Sheriff’s Office. The door hanger card was left in the mailbox. It says “You have important legal documents awaiting you at Josephine County Sheriff’s Office” and goes on to say in hand written lettering that the Important Documents are concerning Grand Jury participation.

I am guessing the Sheriff heard from Ron Howard at One Hour Martinizer HQ at Nancy Sinatra’s Pacific Palisades Basement where she keeps her personal kidnapped surgically altered pet people. I suspect Ron Howard & Company are upset that they have been called out as the terrorists that they truly are, responsible for the World Trade Center Terror Attack on September 11, 2001 when Screen Actor Guild arranged that the towers would be demolished as a distraction while they attacked the Pentagon with a parallel set of events there.

So, I took that from the mailbox and returned to my house.

I wanted to take a photo of that woman who looks like George Castanza, a young one, and got my phone to take a photo, and returned to where I could take a photo, but she was gone, and the rabbit was still in the cage there.

Then, I was surprised to see Jeff Monroe!

He must have healed from his wounds from the last time he attacked me at my house, or, from attacking me at the Walmart, I can’t recall which was the last time Jeff Monroe attacked me and was hurt real bad in defense.

Jeff Monroe was hosing off a Remote Control Hobby car, and orange one, was big, about 24 inches long, about 10 inches wide, and was wearing a black hoodie sweatshirt as per usual, and blue jeans. Jeff looks a lot like Frank Beard of ZZ Top for a description, shorter hair.

They are using all of that stuff I explained there to discount the reports I make here, one such thing is the real full size actual vehicles that are fitted with remote control, the ones with automatic transmissions and factory cruise control are fitted with remote control operation around here, all of the local terror cells have at least one remote control full size automobile, not a toy car like Jeff Monroe wants you to think I was referring to.

That rabbit is going to be used to cover the eye-witness of the Dog Catcher Truck I saw take Peter Sparacino away in many years ago, by men with whips who attacked him in front of my house at the mailboxes, and put him inside of the cages on the Dog Catcher Truck, which was full of other people who also had been put int the cages on that truck.

It’s also notable that the 545 Jackpine Mailbox that belongs to the Sparcino terror cell has been taken off of the plank where the mailboxes have all been since way before I moved to the nieghborhood 24 years ago. Sparacino terror cell are using the family name of Peter Sparacino, after he was killed, and they stole his house, and all of his belongings. That happened more than twenty years ago, and no one will send help despite all of these reports of terrorism.

Same is true about Clyde Baum at 333 Jackpine. He killed Red Powers who owned that property free & clear like Peter Sparacino did. Clyde killed Red, and held Dolly Powers captive in her home for about five years before he killed her. Clyde used her for a lot of things, to get county aid, for drugs by taking her to the doctors, and for a place to live while controling her with protection from imposter police, so, Dolly Powers as an elderly woman in her 80′s had to do exactly as she was told when Clyde Baum took her for the doctor appointments and to sign up for county and state handouts of various kinds.

(Clyde Baum also has connection to Monsanto Agrochemical Corporation, and has access to modified seeds, and uses those in complicated ways at a State and Federal level of International Commerce sort of agricultural terrorism)

So, the rabbit in the cage will serve as an explanation made to federal agents to cover up the men who use cages on trucks to haul Victims away. It works because the federal agents insist on being fooled all of the time, they absolutely refuse to refrain from being fools, and continue to trust the local authorities, who are not authorities, but are a terror cell that killed and replaced the local authorities a long, long, long, long, long time ago.

I also noticed that the small camera at Monroe’s Four-Three-Four, on that thin wire stand on the stump that has been pointed at my gate for about two months, is gone, and the telescope on the tripod remains there, just has been moved back slightly farther away, but is still pointed at my driveway gate.

There are many cameras there at Monroe’s that are used to wage attacks on me when they can see that I am outside, and am within range of a cross-bow, gun, or vehicle. or vehicle with gun mounted in the front grill.

So, it took some time to run scans and reset the modem, and turn the computer on and off a couple of times to say Local Conditions, but there you go, as long as the “Save Post” button is not disabled, this will post after I say:

It’s overcast, is cold, and there is absence of wind.

no help has come.

There are no signs of helpful people anywhere.

====================================

5:52 pm:

This is a good place to make a reminder to security people who may be interested in preserving USA and know how to read the details I have presented here on this account. It’s extremely dangerous for me to share this kind of information, so please use it as it was intended, as a guide to save many millions of lives, and to gain my own freedom.

When you raid Ron Howard’s personal studios and the ones at Universal, Disney, and Pixar, at MGM, and even at MTM, when you come across the Seagate FreeAgent Hard-Drives, those are very special, some are ten years older than were made publically available, are prototypes of wizbang technology from the time when SeaGate was hijacked, so, those have Encryption that makes the files on them invisible, and, the SeaGate software does the math to make it appear as the disc does not contain any hidden files. The encrypted files are absolutly invisible, and you cannot learn that Ron Howard is the terrorist who directed the WTC attack if you cannot see those invisible files on his personal collection of SeaGate FreeAgent Hard-Drives. So use specialize disc scanning on those, especially at Disney Studios and Micheal Eisner’s personal discs.

=========================================================

6:12 pm:

nsa better hurry.

You failed to take Twitter offline, and that is going to cost the USA it’s existence.

You need to take Twitter offline permanently in order just to get started with US national security work.

This says to erase hard drives.

They reported source is “Red Canary”.

That is a bird in a mine field where nitrous gas is the weapon.

Red Canary, in Hollywood, translates to “Redken Hair Products”.

It’s shampoo. Cnn is commanding their connected terror assassins in the music industry (”Cross-Hairs”; Vatican Choir HQ Special Assassins are “Cross-Hairs”) to erase their hard-drives just because of what I said about the SeaGate encryption.

Don‘t believe that Twitter time stamp they put there for fools to believe in. The tweet is in response to what I said about SeaGate.

Also, don’t forget the connection Cnn has with the music industry up close and personal. Remember the other day when Brooke Baldwin showed up to kill me along with Sammy Hager. Do you think I was joking you fucking idiots?

Take Twitter offline right now, you need to just to save your own lives, even if Joe Biden says not to, you must take Twitter down, there is no Joe Biden, it’s all done with movie magic on Twitter, while Ann Wilson is running the White House from Kauai Ranch with Roger Waters.

When they do shit like that, they also kill the disposable US Citizen kidnapped terror soldier children, and, they kill the “Partners” surgically altered pet people that SAG keeps in their attics, dog houses, and basements in Hollywood, Pacific Palisades, Brentwood, and the Wilsher District.

Fools did not do as they should have done. They did not read the details.

https://twitter.com/CNN/status/1363647234571726848

========

6:33 pm:

“Chuck Todd” trending on Twitter:

“Hamburger the Children”

That is command generated by Google, sent to Twitter, to say a command to SDA and SAG to kill the kidnapped child soldiers they keep.

https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Chuck%20Todd%22&src=trend_click&vertical=trends

I’ll do the math for you:

Surely you can figure out that Chuck is both “80/20“ ground beef, and is also “Chuckie” the child with the knife under the bed.

Then:

“Todd” is short, like little kids are, they are short people ... remember? Kids?

Todd is short for “Toddler”.

Toddler = Todd + L + ER

Also, Toddler = Todd + Ell + ER

Also, Toddler = Todd + LE + R

That means Todd + Law Enforcement + Aarrgghh (pirates say “Aarrgghh when they swing the sword)

A “15″ = One adult imposter police w/one child terror soldier. (in plain clothes, disguised a father & son while on attack, the child has no choices, has to do as the RCMP terror adult soldier says to do. They are attack teams that are extremely difficult to defend against)

“Todd” means “Kill the child terror soldiers four different ways”

“Hamburger the Children“ was just commanded on Twitter by Google, to reach millions of terror soldiers in the field in the Twitter viewing audience.

===================================================

7:36 pm:

More notable conditions observed at the Four-Three-Four (Monroe terror cell) from my driveway while on a walk to the mailbox earlier today:

First, I need to express with great emphasis that Monroe (434 Jackpine Drive) terror cell at Four-Three-Four Jackpine (Drive, Grants Pass, Oregon 97526) clearly has access to the same people that I need to reach for help. I can see by their daily activities that the things they do, items they use in the yard on display, and visitors to that Offensive Trailer there are all used to help them use what I write to fool the federal agents I need to reach, but am unable to having been outnumbered 50,000 to 1 in Josephine County. I am the last remaining US Citizen that has not been killed or taken into more confining captivity. I am held captive in my home by the Monroe terror cell, and all of the other residences in the surrounding area, which are also terror cells of various origin throughout the county. My phone is made to only reach phone numbers that the terror army wants me to reach, ones that will aid them in killing me, or, to further fool the federal agents. The Centurylink Internet Service I use is hijacked at their base of operations, and the phone lines themselves don’t go to the addresses mapped at Centurylink ISP, all of that is explained in great detail here on this account in many places. So, I can’t reach where I need to reach, and the phone only rings when the terror army wants it to ring.

So, those other observations:

As I looked at the heater compressor in the backyard, I heard the sound of the small wheeled motorcycles that belong to a large terror cell composed of many disposable kidnapped US Children that was at the Chapman terror cell at 3701 Russell Road and rode away as I looked at the heating unit.

Then as I got close to where that Offensive Trailer is at along my driveway, that is when another, bigger motorcycle started up, revved and drove away from the Strong terror cell at 3747 Russell Road. That is the time that I observed the woman on the picnic bench out by the Offensive Travel Trailer.

I noticed some new additional items strewn about at Monroe’s backyard. There was some chicken wire fencing that had been torn off of one of the chicken coups there, was all bent up, and in a heap along with the supports the (that) held the wire in place. That one is the smaller of the two chicken coups at Monroe’s, the one that contains so many electronic devices hidden inside.

I noticed that there was a newly installed fencing arrangement at the other, bigger chicken coup that is over there, the one where so many electric lights of all kinds of different bulbs are used to fuck with me when I take a walk, some of them are very bright, all of them are within a chicken coup. The newly installed fence extends the usefulness of that particular chicken coup, the way it looks from 200 feet away as I took that walk, and a green tarp was hung over that new fencing like a drape, makes yet another hiding place for a cross-bow assassin to hide for shooting at me.

(Two separate chicken coups. The kind of thing where egg laying domesticated foul are kept, some say they are “farm animals”, others say “roosters & hens”, where one of the two chicken coups is larger than the other one is. The larger one looks like a puppet show stage modified into a chicken coup, and has many different kinds of electric lighting used at different times inside and nearby the chicken coup. The other chicken coup, the smaller one, also contains some ducks, so, “chicken & duck coup”, it used to be a firewood shed long ago, and that one (the small chicken coup at Monroe terror cell) has audio & video recording equipment operating inside of the “chicken & duck old firewood shed coup”. Is that clear enough?).

As I reached the place where I could see there was someone seated at the picnic bench (at Monroe terror cell, 434 Jackpine Drive), there was a scream, or yell from the main house at 434 in the front part of the Monroe driveway.

When I returned from the mailbox, that woman in the black sweat shirt that looks like George Castanza, was doing what I would call a “Jeff Monroe Routine”. Jeff was often seen in the past using a shovel to “stab” at some dirt near a hole, or, stab at some dirt in a large bucket repeatedly and violently for no apparent reason while adding a variety of other ingredients into the dirt he is stabbing at, as I walk by there. So, today, that woman that looks like George Castanza was doing the “Stab at the dirt in the hole with the shovel” routine. Then, she put the shovel down, went and picked up a bag of some very orange looking potting soil, and dumped all of it out, shaking the bag violently. The odor of fresh manure filled the whole area immediately.

The thing that made me want to do this additional comment is that the woman was doing exactly as Jeff Monroe usually does often with that activity with the shovel, the dirt, the additive into the soil. But not the rabbit in the cage. Jeff Monroe uses goats in a bigger pen, not rabbits, where the goats get their heads stuck in the six inch mesh fencing and can’t get their heads out because of the goat’s horns get stuck like barbs in the fencing, and the goats get all bloody and torn up around their necks after being stuck in the fence for many hours and trying to get their heads out of the fence. Goats scream. They sound like small babies when they scream, it’s horrible to be exposed to this kind of thing everyday, but by comparison to other kidnapped US Citizens around here, I am fortunate that I am able to walk away, from things the others are not able to walk away from. (national security in USA fails to protect by the hour, by the day, by the minute)

It was a “Role Reversal”. I don’t remember where I have seen that woman before outside of that trailer area, but I have seen her somewhere around Grants Pass before.

That remote control car is important to find who owns it. I don’t think it belongs to Monroe’s, I think it belongs to Juseph Myers at 560 Jackpine, who makes a lot of different things that are remote control, including a bird that hops around on the ground, looks injured, has two cameras mounted in it, and can bounce away if you try to pick up the remote controlled injured small bird.

That gal who looked like George Castanza could have been Rena Myers wearing a “Fat Suit”, a whole body suit that is made with real human skin, and a skinny person can put on the Fat Suit and become a fat person as a disguise made at the Juseph Myers terror cell. If so, there is a good chance that the suit is made from the skin of Donald Trump, who exploded in a bus on January 6, 2021 out front of the Grants Pass DMV across from the Fred Meyer store where Kyle Myers works as a grocery checker, and is a Lieutenant of the SDA Terror army. The Myers at 560 Jackpine have been making wearable costumes from the skin and body parts of the victims they kill for more than twenty years just two doors down the street from my house. I used to be able to see as they tossed the little girls into the shed in the backyard over there, usually by someone on horseback who literally tossed the little girls kidnapped from the Grants Pass Community Church just a half mile or so down the road on Russell Road. The people at 520 Built a big fence in the way, and I no longer have a view of where that shed is at where the little girls are processed by the Myers terror cell.

=======

9:07 pm:

There is a lot of continued reports on Twitter about that airplane that lost it’s engine cowl, I feel someone is trying to reach me with that.

I once was on commercial flight when the motor caught fire. I took some photos, maybe I still have them somewhere.

So, yeah, shit happens and then no one cares enough to talk about it.

I was another flight when the pilot called me into the cockpit. I still don‘t know why he did that, but out the drivers side window was a US Air-Force fighter jet escorting our flight along on the route. There is a whole bunch more to say about what happened in that cockpit, I’ll just say that the co-pilot flew the airplane the rest of the way after I entered the cockpit.

There was another flight when the pilot was headed straight into some mountains ahead of us, everyone on the airplane began to sort of whisper: “pull up... pull up” .... then louder some of the passengers where saying: “PULL UP!” and I shouted too: “PULL-UP!”.  We missed the mountains by a little bit, and kept on going.

There was a different flight when the flight attendants pulled a man from his seat and put him down into a access panel in the floor of the airplane, one between the wings on a L1011 size airplane as we were on approach to Portland airport. On the drive home, there was a big road block near Hillsboro on the I-5, lots of emergency crews there, as I passed by I asked one of them who they had scraped off of the pavement, and told them about the man that was into floor of the airplane: “Did someone happen to fall out of the sky and land on the freeway?”. There was no particular response that I can recall right now, but I think it was like “How did you know that?” kind of response from the emergency worker there.

There was another time when I stopped a shooter from shooting on airplane destined for Portland. Everyone on the plane was rounded up at the airport. I don’t think any of them are alive anymore, I had to run away from that, me and one woman and one ten year old were the only people who got away. It was not a safety thing, it was a forced round up by people other than airport security at Portland International.

Another time all of the oxygen masks came down from the overhead area. There was nothing wrong with the airplane, some young men were in the back of the plane seated farthest back, they all began to get out of their seats after the passengers were instructed to put the masks on. I could see they had weapons so I shouted real loud: “It’s nitrous oxide, any one with a lighter, lite the lighter!” and kept shouting to “look behind you” as those men were in the aisle. Me and at least two others had lighters, and lit them. Those guys all sat back down. There was a “Pop” noise from the luggage compartment area below the passenger area, and the pilot advised to put the masks back up into the overhead place where they came from, and we continued on our way.

no one on the airplane complained about any of that, as if they had all forgotten that anything happened.

The Baby is on fire, there is no one watching the baby.

TSA, Air Traffic Control, the concession restaurants and vendors at the airports are all occupied and controlled by terror cells. The rental car agencies are also all terror cells. In Las Vegas at McLaren airport, the rental car kiosk area is built intentionally as a killing field. Salt Lake City Utah international airport is built intentionally as a killing field with a system of food vendors combined with “Sky  Caps” who do the kill and then cart the bodies away.

There are some secret words that will keep you alive when you order a smoothie in Utah at the airport. I don’t recall what worked though, i guess you had to have been there to know what to say.

==========================

10:30 pm:

This below is exactly the way a typical SDA attack on US Citizen residential home is done.

That guy would be accompanied by about three to six other people who remain out of sight. If there is a smart meter on the electric panel at the residence, the power company terror cell would have already done enough analysis on electric usage at the home to know basically where in the house the victim is at, such as in a laundry room, when the washing machine begins to run, they know that much information in real time as the smart meter is broadcasting all day, all the time as electricity is consumed. So, this guy shows up with some bad weather on an Ivanka Trump Oportunity Zone style attack scenario. The home owner may not like having some asshole out front like that, but watches for a minute, it looks innocent, like a doo gooder is just happens to be in the neighborhood and wants so badly to intrude on other people un-announced, just shows up to randomly go ahead and start to shovel someone else’s snow away because, well heck, that guy just does not have anything else he needs to do at his own house, he’s so good that he already removed all of the snow at his house, racked the front yard, took out the trash, fed the cat, cleared the rain gutters, mowed the grass, made his bed, and made lunch in advance for the whole week, after he went to the grocery store this morning, and had all of that done before ten am, so, he has all kinds of extra time to go do random snow shoveling at other peoples houses, right?

The home owner thinks about all of that, and all seems legit.

So the home owner can relax now, it’s feeling very comfortable all of a sudden, as the nitrous gas is being forced into the back slider, and the bathroom window, while the scent of fresh laundry soap, also inserted into the gas mix in the house, reminds the homeowner to go ahead and do some laundry, as long as there are people helping out around the house and everything. So the laundry or other thing gets started while the owner is enjoying that warm fuzzy, sense safety and neighborly kindness that the nitrous gas provides. When the power company gets the reading that the home owner is in a desired place in the house, that is when the bastards come into the house. They will have already gained the house key through observation over time about where the home owner keeps that outdoor hidden house key, borrowed that long enough to make a copy at the key making machine that is in the garage next to where that guy hangs up his snow shovel every night after a hard day of raping, murdering, torturing, and killing. Then, on Saturday, he goes to confession, to say what loot he and the crew was able to take, and to drop off any small children to the church that may have lived at the home where the nice church goer went to shovel some snow.

They are all connected with blu-tooth communication, and have lots of electronic equipment available for knowing exactly when is the best time to use that hijacked house key to go in right through the front door to make everything appear is if there is no problems in the neighborhood.

In the spring they send a teenager with a lawnmower. In the summer they send someone in a bikini, in the fall they bring rakes, and offer to clear the rain gutters if you don’t mind getting the ladder out of the garage for them first.

https://twitter.com/ABC/status/1363729986214060038

[takadasaiko]

Stay With Me (a Rowdy 3 fic)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Amanda and Vogel rescue the other Rowdies only to find Martin being held separately and in bad shape.

Stay With Me

The alarms were screaming, shrill and loud. The overhead lights were dimmed to almost nothing, and that left the flashing strobes linked to the alert sounding through the base seemingly brighter than they might have been otherwise. It was input overload central and Amanda had to squeeze her eyes closed for just a moment to gather herself. The last thing she needed was another attack. They didn't have time for that shit.

"'Manda? Anything look like in the poetry?"

Brown eyes snapped open and she refocused when she heard Vogel's voice. He was nervous, sticking close to her and all his energy seemed to be coiled up. He had a death grip on his golf club that he had been carrying around with him, but so far there hadn't been any reason to use it. Blackwing might know they were there, but they didn't know where they were in the base yet, and Amanda wanted to keep it that way until she had the Rowdy 3 back together and all five of them could break out. This was going to have to be a team effort.

She looked up and down the corridor, everything looking the same and she closed her eyes again to try to recall the images. They always flashed so quickly that it was hard to hold onto them, but she managed. Like a recording that played back in her mind, she held onto them with the desperation of someone trying to save her new, chosen family. She'd seen Martin in the last big one, and he hadn't looked good. She had no idea what they would do if the boys weren't in any condition to fight their way out.

"I saw…. This way," she said suddenly, snagging hold of his jacket and all but dragging Vogel with her. He went willingly, a small sound escaping him as he regained his footing to keep up with her.

Left turn, right, straight for two possible turns and…. They were going south. Surely that was right. She slammed to a halt at a dead end and she looked up, finding herself faced with a security camera. She glared at it, extending the one fingered salute before turning. So much for flying under the radar.

"Here!" Vogel bellowed and he was darting off to the left down a corridor they'd passed. She had no idea where he was going or what had set him off that way, but she followed, her boots hitting the smooth floor and she pushed herself harder and harder to keep up with his boundless energy.

Amanda almost missed it when Vogel turned, but grabbed hold of the open doorframe to propel herself through it with him. She slammed to a stop, eyes wide at the sight. They were in a large room, open for the most part with chains holding up coffin-like cages suspended over large openings in the floor. Gripps and Cross were strapped to the cages, tied tightly and bound in straight jackets. They looked… exhausted. Amanda thought it might have been the strangest thing she'd ever seen. Both of her boys were limp against their restraints, barely stirring until they heard Vogel calling their names.

Cross looked up sluggishly. "Vogel," he rasped, the name echoing strangely in the room.

Vogel sprinted out towards the platform and vaulted over the railing to the catwalk out towards his brother. Amanda followed, eyes wide and a knot forming in her stomach. She didn't see any controls. Nothing to get them down. As her gaze swept the platform she saw a lone figure in a lab coat sprawled out, signs that the mere few seconds head start that Vogel had had been enough to give him the chance to take the scientist down. In the man's limp grasp was a tablet.

"You came," Gripps said from his place as Amanda bent to pick the tablet up.

"Weren't gonna leave ya," Vogel promised. "You see, boss? I stomped his ass! You get it? You get the thing to make them come back?"

"Yeah," Amanda answered as she flipped through the controls. The scientist stirred at her feet, groaning, and she gave him a sharp kick. "Stay, asshole." She worked at the controls, the cages jolting and moving in directions she didn't mean for them to go, until finally she got both of them put over solid ground and Vogel started in on the restraints holding them in. She pursed her lips as she moved to the opposite side to start in on Gripps' bindings.

She didn't like what she saw as she got closer. His colouring was bad, deep bags under his eyes, and he was still sort of slumped against the restraints. This wasn't going to be an easy escape. "Where's Martin?" She glanced over to the middle cage to find it open with now Rowdy leader in sight.

"Took him," Cross answered.

A soft, pained sound escaped Gripps. "Gotta help him."

They were psychically linked, she remembered in that moment, and she wasn't sure if it was Gripps hurting or Martin. The scream that echoed from beyond the room they were in answered her question.

"Go, I got 'em," Vogel said. "We'll catch up."

Gripps nodded and Amanda finished the restraint she was working on before darting back down the catwalk and towards where it sounded like the cry had come from. She rounded the corner into the room. This one wasn't empty at all. It was filled with equipment and machines for all sorts of terrible experiments, and in the center of it was a familiar figure, tall and lean, strapped to the table. He was still. Far too still, even for Martin who had a habit of watching the others burn off their excess energy. His wrists were strapped down by his sides, ankles held by the same black restraints. There was no one there, but from the readouts on the screen someone had been recently.

"Martin?" Amanda whispered, even the small sound of her voice loud in the room only filled with the whirl of the cooling fans for the computers. She crept forward, the knot growing when she found those striking blue eyes of his closed. They'd stolen his glasses too. The bastards.

He didn't stir, didn't crack an eye to smirk at her and tell her not to be afraid. She was afraid. She was terrified, and if he were anywhere near conscious he would have felt that.

But he didn't wake up, and Amanda's hand shook as she reached forward. Did they have pulses? She wasn't sure. They were vampires of some sort, but how close that actually was to what they were she had no idea. It wasn't like she'd asked them to detail how everything worked. She had just assumed they'd get to what they needed to get to in time. She'd never thought that her boys would have been taken from her.

He wasn't breathing.

Amanda felt her own breath catch as she checked again, her fingers latching onto the rough material of the untied straightjacket that they'd fit him in. Her dark eyes flickered up to look at the readouts again, hoping for something to prove her wrong. There was nothing about a heartbeat, either good or bad, nor about his breathing rate. His energy levels were displayed there though and those were in the red. They'd been starving him.

Her vision blurred as she shook him. "No! No you can't leave yet. I just found you. We've been looking, I promise! Vogel and me, we've been looking everywhere for you guys. We're getting you out. You've just gotta stay with me… you've got to come back." She felt the tears working their way down her cheeks and her knuckles were white. It didn't do any good.

He wasn't breathing. Right. She'd taken a first aid course years before. Maybe it'd work on him too.

Amanda bent over his still form, her lips against his as she tried to breathe for him, hoping and begging to anything or anyone that might listen to bring him back. To her. She needed him to come back to her. The feeling was strong. If it was desperation or fear or… something else, she wasn't sure, but it was strong and suddenly she felt him tense under her, his entire body going rigid and she jerked back as he pulled in a deep breath, blue eyes wide and open as his back arched and he groaned.

"Martin?"

That blue gaze swiveled around on her. He was ready for a fight, a snarl on his lips, but the moment he saw her it melted away. "Amanda," he breathed, blinking at her like he was trying to pull together what happened.

"You weren't breathing." That was what she had to say? Seriously? She'd have kicked herself, but it wasn't like her brain was giving her anything else.

He licked his lips. "So you kissed me?"

Amanda could feel her cheeks heating up. "It's called CPR," she grumbled, forcing herself to turn her attention to his restraints and she started unbuckling him. "Are you okay?"

Martin coughed hard, grimacing as he did. "Yeah. Got some strong… feelings there, drummer girl. You, uh… gave me a boost."

"You could feel all that?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. She was barely able to work through her own feelings in that moment. She wasn't sure she wanted someone else knowing and understanding them before she did.

She finally worked the second buckle over his wrist free and he sat up, much quicker than she would have expected with how pale he was. He looked like death warmed over, and the hand that touched her face - albeit a bit shaky and little hesitantly - felt almost as cold as that. They'd really done a number on him. His fingers ghosted against her cheek and she found herself frozen in place. "You came for us."

His words jolted her. "'Course I did."

Martin's gaze held hers for a long moment and she thought for a moment he might give her a proper kiss. He didn't, though, and he dropped his hand suddenly, a grunt escaping him. "We gotta go."

"Right," Amanda answered, shoving back the raging emotions. She was freaked out and she was exhausted from being worried and on the run for over two months now. They needed to go. Once they were free, once they were out, she'd have time to sort through how she felt about everything that had happened. "So how'd you guys get out last time?"

Martin shot her a devilish grin as he swung his long legs over the side of the table, and for the first time in what felt like forever Amanda felt her lips tilt upward. They were about to make Blackwing regret ever taking her Rowdy Boys.

Notes: I've been trying to talk myself out of writing for Dirk Gently, but good heavens Amanda and Martin have my heart.

[thenightling]

What is Neil Gaiman’s Sandman?

What is Neil Gaiman’s Sandman?

Explanation below.

Warning: Here there be Spoilers.

I fully admit that I, myself, am a late comer to the fandom of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics.  Back in the 1990s many friends had recommended the series to me and or insisted that I would love “Death.”   But no one gave me a proper explanation or summary of what I was to expect.  I figured it had to have been an over-rated trend.  I was too busy trying to get people to watch or listen to the Nightmare before Christmas soundtrack (which hadn’t yet become the cultural phenomena it became in the early 2000s).

The comics I read in those days mostly consisted of the likes of Morbius: The Living Vampire, The Midnight Sons, Legion of Monsters, Tomb of Dracula and the occasional Tales from the Crypt reprint when I could find it.  I was lucky enough to have recurring access to a store called Dracula’s Comic Crypt on Long Island.   But as a woman into all things Gothic (and most especially art in the style of Bernie Wrightson) I was recommended Sandman over and over again.

Part of what discouraged me was that I have always had poor eyesight.  Today, of course, on a nice twenty inch computer monitor I can make the comic book images nice and big and keep physical copies mostly for collecting purposes. But mostly I just didn’t really know what Sandman was all about. 

Well, fast forward over twenty years later...  The TV show Lucifer has gained my attention and is both fascinating and fun for being different so I finally cave and decide to read the comics that he first came from... Sandman.  I was particularly interested in the storyline where Lucifer quits Hell (Season of Mists) but I wisely decided to start from the beginning.  I started at the beginning...  It wasn’t long before I realized that I liked this thing... I really, really liked this thing.  In fact I soon found I liked the protagonist, Morpheus, more than Lucifer.   

My response was along the lines of “Why didn’t anyone tell me this was so good?” to which several friends practically shouted “WE DID!”

So for anyone who was or is in a similar situation to me, I’ll explain Sandman as best I can for you right now since no one properly explained it to me back when it was first recommended to me a almost a quarter of a century ago.

_______________

DC comics has had three characters named Sandman.  The first was a gas mask wearing Noir character named  Wesley Dodds.  The second was a golden age style superhero who later passed his mantel on to another, the replacement character called Hector Hall. 

And now for the third, the most important of DC’s Sandman / Sandmen.  The literal Sandman AKA Dream of the Endless, otherwise known as Morpheus. Ruler of The Dreaming realm.  Master of both Dreams and Nightmares.  First published by DC and later concluded by Vertigo (DC’s adult content label) Sandman was a very unique kind of story, set in the DC universe. 

  Morpheus (AKA Dream) sometimes changes his form but he’s fairly easy to recognize because he is always depicted with black talk bubbles with white text, originally intended to indicate a psychic form of communication more than actually vocal (but I think that idea was mostly dropped after the first issue and only hinted at again in the storyline called A Game of You). 

During the very first storyline of Sandman comics Morpheus was captured by humans.

Later it is revealed in a stand alone comic that the universe (in an effort to balance itself out) granted Wesley Dodds certain dream based abilities.  Dodds had something of a psychic link with Morpheus while Morpheus was in captivity. 

Later two nightmares escape from The Dreaming realm and these two (Brute and Glob) manipulate the super hero “Sandman” and his successor, Hector Hall. They do this to create a dream dimension of their own since the one Morpheus ruled had fallen into chaos without him. 

Morpheus / Dream is a member of The Endless and his full title (besides Sandman) is Dream of The Endless.

The Endless is a family of anthropamorphic personifications representing seven aspects or abstract concepts in relation to conscious life.    It’s not as complicated as it seems.

The Endless are:

Destiny:  Destiny is the eldest.  He is depicted as a shrouded blind man whose wrist is chained to a book containing the past, present and future.  Despite being apparently blind he can read his own book.  His sigil (the symbol that represents him) is a book.

Destruction.  Destruction grew weary of ...well, destruction when he saw humanity progressing toward increasing violence.  Determining that each Endless actually represents a concept and it’s counter-part he quit his vocation and wandered off to try to reinvent himself as a creative force instead of destructive.  His sigil is a sword.

Death.  Death is Death incarnate, much like Death of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld but instead of resembling the traditional Grim Reaper Death takes the form of a pale Goth girl with an eye of horas tattoo under her right eye.  You might think that she should be the most depressed or brooding of the group but no.  She’s friendly and optimistic.  She also loves films like Mary Poppins and The Little Mermaid (Disney version).  She wears an ankh pendant, which also is her sigil.

Now we have Dream AKA Morpheus. He is The Sandman of folklore.  Dream is the middle sibling and he is The Sandman.  He rules the realm of The Dreaming.  He has wild “Robert Smith style” hair, bone-white skin and black eyes with small star-like pupils.  Morpheus is also very tall and skinny.  Dream’s sigil is his “Helm” - a battle mask he made for himself using the bones of two Lovecraftian “Old Gods” that attacked The Dreaming a long time ago.  (He almost never gets to wear this helm in actual battle as Morpheus is not really a warrior character by nature).  The helm is made from a large skull and spine and so it resembles a bone version of Wesley Dodd’s gas mask. 

     Desire.  Now come the twins, the first of which is Desire.  Desire is a genderfluid being that can be male or female (or both or neither) at will.  Desire is very fickle and can also be extremely cruel but also (on occasion) can be helpful and once even saved the universe (even though Desire doesn’t remember doing it).  Desire is slender, androgynous and has golden eyes.  Desire’s sigil is a heart. 

Despair.  Despair is the twin of Desire though you might never know it.  They look nothing at all alike.  Despair is a short, very full-figured woman who has jagged tusk-like teeth, and almost never wears clothes.  Despair’s sigil is a ring with a sharp hook attached to it. 

Delirium.  Delirium is the youngest of the Endless and very child-like.  She used to be Delight but someone or something hurt or abused her a long time ago and she became Delirium as a way to cope.  It’s implied that someday she might return to being Delight but as it stands that might take a whole lot of therapy.   Delirium can be very sweet but if you are mean to her or try to touch her without permission she will punish you by driving you to madness.  Her sigil was once a flower.  Now it’s a rainbow blob or smearing of color.

And there you have it.  The Endless in a nutshell.  Now on to the basic plot of Sandman...

_______________________________

Sandman was first published in late 1988 and ran until 1996.  It then had several spin-offs and one shots, a prequel novel set in Ancient Japan (Dream hunters), a collection of short story comics called Endless Nights (one for each Endless), and finally the gorgeous prequel comic Sandman: Overture (compiled as a graphic novel in 2016).

Since the first run of Sandman is over seventy five issues long I will only give a summary of the first story arc.  Preludes and Nocturnes...

____________________

Preludes and Nocturnes:

A group of late Victorian / Edwardian era occultists known as The Order of Ancient Mysteries (Modeled loosely after the Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn) is lead by their Lord Magus, Roderick Burgess.  They use a grimoire known as the Magdalene Grimoire (which will later get use in Green Arrow) to cast a ritual spell to summon Death incarnate but instead of summoning her they accidentally summon The Sandman.

They realize their mistake but decide to keep Dream as their prisoner anyway.

A “sickness” occurs where several people end up with severe sleeping disorders because of the way Morpheus was taken.  One woman ends up with “Sleeping beauty syndrome” where she would wake for brief periods of time but usually slept.  Another goes into a coma.  One young man in Africa dreamt of a cloud castle, as was his usual dream, but the castle crumbled and he became catatonic.  A soldier would suffer a form of “Shell shock” that made him severely insomniactic.  But in general most people continued to sleep and dream normally. 

However in The Dreaming realm Morpheus’ absence was noticed.  And over time things started to deteriorate.  The vast library in The Dreaming started to disappear.  Some dream entities vanished.  Some Nightmare creatures escaped into the human world.

And Morpheus’ castle began to fall into disrepair.  This all happened over the span of many years, mind you.

For over seventy-two-years Morpheus is kept prisoner inside a clear crystal-glass cage, surrounded by a magical binding circle in Roderick’s cellar.   They take his helm, his pouch of dream sand, and his ruby amulet as magical trophies. They also take his clothes and leave him naked and caged.  They don’t even bother to feed him and though he won’t die of starvation he does suffer hunger.  The binding circle holds back Morpheus’ magick and psychic powers while the glass cage holds his physical body. 

During Morpheus’ captivity Roderick grew old and died and his son took his place as Morpheus’ main captor.  And eventually old age started to creep up on the son, Alexander.  One night Alexander visit’s his prisoner (who has refused to speak the entire time of his captivity) and Alex’s assistant (and lover) Paul, accidentally brushes Alex’s wheelchair slightly over the rim of the binding circle, breaching it and it’s hold over Morpheus’ psychic abilities. But they do not notice this slight breach.  Morpheus, however, does notice the breach in the circle holding him prisoner.  Morpheus waits for his opportunity.  As one of his guards has a brief day dream about a vacation on a beach, Morpheus is able to psychically connect with this dream to steal a fistful of the sand there on the dream beach and use this sand as he would use his pouch of dream sand.

Morpheus pretends to collapse within his cage.  

Appearing to be dead, the guards call for their employer, and open the glass cell.  Morpheus uses the pilfered dream sand to make good his escape.  

The first thing Morpheus does is he enters someone’s dream about wearing a clown costume to a party and no one else is in costume.  Here Morpheus (still quite naked) raids the buffet, even eating frog legs from a fried chicken style bucket held by Colonel Sanders.  He’s too hungry to think about anything other than eating. 

Once that’s done he conjures clothes for himself and seeks revenge on his captor...

Morpheus enters the dream of Alexander Burgess where he confronts him on holding him prisoner and how he treated him.  Morpheus used to be a very cruel and petty being and his cruelty lingers long enough for him to punish Alexander severely.  He condemns him to a dream of eternal waking, an eternal nightmare which entails waking up from a nightmare only to find he’s in yet another nightmare, just to wake up again and be in yet another nightmare and on and on forever while his body remains comatose and or may actually, one day, die while his soul could be stuck in that nightmare within The Dreaming for eternity. (Dream does eventually release Alexander Burgess though and forgives him).

Exhausted by this act of vengeance, Morpheus tries to make his way to his castle at The Heart of The Dreaming but faints in “The shifting lands” where he’s found by Gregory The Gargoyle.  Gregory is the pet of Cain. 

Cain and Abel are old horror host comic book characters from the 1960 and 1970s in the style of the Crypt Keeper, with Cain compulsively murdering Abel roughly once a night (Abel recovers each time as he’s immortal).  And yet Cain and Abel weirdly love each other. 

These characters originally came from the comic book series The House of Mystery and The House of Secrets.

The House of Secrets are the comics that first introduced DC’s Swamp Thing. 

At The House of Mystery (Cain’s home) Cain is presenting Abel with a new baby gargoyle egg (this gargoyle eventually gets named Goldie.  Originally Abel called the baby gargoyle Irving but Cain insisted that gargoyles need G names) that’s when Gregory (the large green Gargoyle) carries the barely conscious Morpheus to Cain.  This is one of the only times in the comics where you out right see Morpheus ask for help.  He’s a very proud character.

Cain and Abel set about nursing their king back to health.

Morpheus gradually recovers in Cain’s House of Mystery (Abel’s home is The House of Secrets) before making his way to his castle (now in ruins) in the heart of The Dreaming.  Morpheus’ loyal librarian, Lucien, had been trying to keep things running in Morpheus’ absence.

Lucien AKA Mr. Raven (not to be confused with Morpheus’ spy raven, Matthew, who comes later) is another horror host from older DC comics and the castle he resided in (known as the “Ghost Castle”) turns out to be Morpheus’ own castle, which has appeared in both The Waking World and The Dreaming, much like Cain’s House of Mystery and Abel’s House of Secrets.

Meanwhile Morpheus’ usual groundskeeper, Mervyn (A Jack-o-lantern headed scarecrow) had taken to driving a bus in The Dreaming and had to be brought back to The Castle to return to his original duties. 

Morpheus realizes he needs to get his property back- The pouch of dream sand, his helm, and his ruby dreamstone amulet (which is a conduit and amplifier for his powers) that had been taken at the start of his captivity and had drifted to different owners over time.  The Hecateae (The triple goddess AKA The Furies AKA The Fates AKA The Kindly Ones) tell Morpheus that John Constantine had his pouch of Dream Sand.  And so Morpheus goes to meet Constantine.  

John Constantine (who is a practicing occultist and private investigator) figures out that a former lover of his his own has the pouch of self-replenishing dream sand (he, himself, was unable to pull the draw strings of the pouch). The exlover has tragically been using the sand to get high and several Dream entities have been feeding on her imagination when she does this.  Her body is shutting down.  By the time Morpheus and Constantine find her there is little that can be done but Constantine demands Morpheus do something for her and so Morpheus gives her a pleasant final dream before she passes away.  Morpheus repays Constantine’s assistance by helping him with his chronic nightmares.

Next Morpheus has to retrieve his helm, which was taken by a demon.  Morpheus is forced to visit Hell to reclaim it.  Here he is guided by Etrigan The Demon (a demon that exists Dr. Jekyll and Hyde style with a human immortal host, Jason Blood).  Etrigan deliberately takes Morpheus past an imprisoned former lover of Morpheus’ own, Nada. She pleads for Morpheus to rescue her but he tells her that though he loves her he has not yet forgiven her.  (later we learn Morpheus left her in Hell because she rejected him back when he was a much crueler character).

Morpheus has started to change since his captivity.  He’s becoming softer, less cruel.  And though he does not rescue her here, he will eventually go back for her after his older sister, Death makes him realize that he had wronged Nada.

The demon who has taken Morpheus’ helm challenges him to a contest where each one has to out do the creativity of the other, inventing personas that would best the previous one conceived by the opponent.  Eventually Morpheus wins with the simple phrase “I am Hope.”  

This is later (much later) very bitterly sweetly elaborated on in the prequel comic Sandman: Overture, where Hope is revealed to have been a little girl whose ghost helps Morpheus but all he can remember of her is her name.

Side note: Lucifer (the main ruler of this Hell) becomes bitter and slowly makes up his mind to quit ruling there.  He does not get around to doing this until the storyline called Season of Mists, in which Lucifer leaves the key to Hell to Morpheus when Morpheus came back, looking to rescue Nada.  Lucifer also asks Morpheus to help him by cutting off Lucifer’s large bat-like wings for him. (Lucifer gets those wings back in his own solo comics, back to their original white, feathery Angelic state).

Eventually Morpheus gives The Key to Hell to two Angels who turn Hell into a place of redemption, and Lucifer retires to Earth where he opens a piano bar in LA called Lux but that’s a whole other story.

Morpheus’ ruby dreamstone amulet had been taken by the villain Doctor Destiny AKA John (or Johnny) Dee. (Not to be confused with Morpheus’ elder brother, Destiny personified).  Doctor Destiny AKA John Dee was being kept at Arkham Asylum.  Doctor Destiny happens to escape around this time as Morpheus is trying to reclaim his lost amulet.  The amulet was in a Justice League of America storage warehouse.  The amulet had been so corrupted by Doctor Destiny that merely touching it saps Morpheus of a great deal of his strength and he collapses, fainting in the warehouse, where it was being stored. 

By the time Morpheus regains consciousness, he finds that Doctor Destiny has taken the amulet and Doctor Destiny had used the ruby’s power on a diner full of people (whom he has toyed with, driven to madness, and then ultimately killed or made them kill each other and themselves in very gruesome ways).  Doctor Destiny and Morpheus have a confrontation where Doctor Destiny says he will kill Morpheus. 

Morpheus tricks Doctor Destiny into following him into The Dreaming where Doctor Destiny destroys the ruby, believing it will kill Morpheus if The Dreamstone is destoryed.  Instead of killing Morpheus, the power that was in the ruby dreamstone reverts to him, making Morpheus more powerful than he had been in centuries.  The ruby had contained a small fragment of Morpheus’ very soul.  Morpheus (who has started to change, becoming a bit kinder) shows pity on Doctor Destiny and instead of cruelly punishing him, he escorts him back to Arkham Asylum where he gives all the inmates a night of deep sleep and pleasant dreams.    

Once Morpheus has gotten back his lost artifacts he restores his castle and library. 

Now Morpheus feels restless and uncertain as to what to do with himself.  He’s lonely and feels like he’s lost his purpose.  So he goes to a park to feed the pigeons in order to try to cheer himself up.

(He loves birds and feeding birds is a comfort for him).  Here he meets up with his sister, Death, who makes pop culture references that fly right over his head (Since he’s been out of touch for nearly a century and wasn’t very good at slang to begin with). 

Morpheus loves and respects his sister and doesn’t understand why so many people fear her. 

He considers himself far more terrible than she could ever be.  She manages to cheer him up by simply being there.  She has him accompany her as she makes her rounds through the city, escorting souls to where they are meant to go. 

There are several adventures for Morpheus after this but this is the first story of the Sandman comics.  Most of his adventures deal with Morpheus righting the wrongs of his own dark past and coming to terms with very human things such as loneliness, friendship, guilt and grief.

Marvel fans might notice that Morpheus AKA Dream has certain similarities to Marvels’ Nightmare character.  And there are definite similarities.  The biggest difference is Dream is essentially what would happen if Nightmare went on a redemption arc.

_________________________

Other adventures of note:

At one point Morpheus is summoned to help Calliope, the muse.  Calliope and Morpheus had been married thousands of years earlier.  She has recently been held prisoner by cruel mortals who use her for inspiration and have physically abused her as well.  Morpheus tries to ask for her release and when that doesn’t work he’s forced to torment her captor with maddening, intensely creative dreams until he releases her.

Another storyline deals with Morpheus going back to Hell to rescue his abandoned lover, Nada, only to find that Lucifer has quit and Lucifer asks Morpheus to help him cut off his large bat wings (which he gets back as pretty feathery wings later in his own solo comics.)

Lucifer goes to Earth and decides to learn how to play Piano, among other things.  His lover, the demoness, Mazikeen, soon follows, while Morpheus’ older sister, Death, tries to sort out what to do with all the newly displaced wandering souls.

When Morpheus is left the key to Hell, various supernatural entities, beings of folklore, and religion come to The Dreaming to try to claim it from him.  One demon that arrives (made of many mouths) has Nada imprisoned inside of his very being.  Morpheus goes inside the demon and rescues Nada and while he’s there he also finds and rescues the very demon that had once had his helm and challenged him during the first Sandman storyline, Preludes and Nocturns.  Morpheus’ sense of compassion has grown.

In his pride Morpheus gives a flimsy apology to Nada for leaving her in Hell and she slaps him hard across the face.

He apologizes more sincerely after momentarily getting angry and tells her that she has a choice to make.  Nada chooses to be reincarnated.

When she’s reborn in Hong Kong, Morpheus sneaks into the nursery in the hospital maternity ward, where he cradles the baby, (The baby is male), telling the baby that he’ll never forget her and that she’ll always be welcome in The Dreaming.   

The key to Hell is ultimately passed to two Angels who choose to try to make it a place of reformation and redemption but somehow devise tortures equally as cruel (if not crueler) than what was there when Lucifer ran the place.  In Neil Gaiman’s lore souls only go to Hell if they believe that is what they deserve and then demons take advantage of that there in Hell.  In Lucifer’s stand alone comics it’s revealed that he was not given Hell as a punishment but as a place where he wouldn’t have to live in his Father’s shadow.  It became a place of darkness and misery because of Lucifer’s own dark mindset.  Lucifer now seems content on Earth and never returns to ruling Hell.

(Note: The current Devil / Satan of the DC universe is “First of the Fallen” (a different entity from Lucifer as Lucifer is “retired” and is not actually categorized as evil anymore.)   

In current DC / Vertigo lore, a different being, “First of The Fallen” has taken the title of Satan while Lucifer has happily become a neutral character, considered neither Good nor Evil (though leaning heavily toward Good in his TV show incarnation).  Lucifer is retired and categorized as Neutral in his moral alignment while First of the Fallen is categorized as Evil.  Lucifer may have been the first Angel to fall from grace but he was not the first entity to fall from grace (by that list Lucifer is actually the fourth to fall) and so Lucifer does not actually have the title First of the Fallen in the current comics. 

One sweet storyline in Sandman is how Morpheus met a man who ‘refused to die” (an immortal) and the man (known as Hob and later Robert) agreed to meet with Morpheus every century to tell him what it was like to go from being mortal to being immortal, how his life has been for the last century, and to tell him if he wanted to continue to live).  In the 1700s they run into John Constantine’s Great, great, grandmother, Johanna Constantine, who mistakes Morpheus and Robert (Hob) as “The Devil and the Wandering Jew” and tries to capture Hob / Robert and Morpheus. 

In the 1800s Hob confronts Morpheus on the fact that there are actually other formerly-human immortals around the world and Hob believes Morpheus only meets with him once a century because they are friends and not because he is curious to know how Hob handles his immortality.  Morpheus becomes indignant and prideful, insisting that he doesn’t need friends.

He storms off and Hob calls after him that if he shows up next century he’ll know it’s because they’re friends and no other reason.

A century later Morpheus arrives and Hob admits he had not thought he’d come and Morpheus tells him that he had been told that it is rude to keep one’s friends waiting.  It’s sweet.

In the lore of Sandman Morpheus is the father of the mythological Orpheus, the musician who went into the Greek underworld to retrieve his dead wife. Orpheus’ mother is the muse, Calliope.  Hades agreed to let Orpheus have his wife back if he did not look back at her until they left The Underworld, proving his trust in the Greek God of The Dead.  Orpheus made the mistake of looking back at her at the last second and so lost her just before they could exit The Underworld.  Orpheus was then later torn apart by zealots and since he was condemned to immortality he was stuck as a severed head.  Shortly before going to The Underworld Orpheus had denounced his father, Morpheus, for refusing to help get his wife back from The Land of The Dead.  Hurt and angry, Morpheus refused to help him other than to send some priests dreams about Orpheus so that they and their descendants would tend to him (as he’s just a severed head) for centuries to come.

In the early 1990s, when Morpheus’ youngest sister, Delirium wants to find their lost brother, Destruction, Morpheus is forced to go to Orpheus to find out where Destruction is.  Orpheus bitterly greets his estranged father and tells him that he will give him the information he needs but only if he does him the one mercy he has been pleading for, for centuries.  Morpheus does not want to do it but finally out of mercy he kills his own son, reuniting Orpheus with his wife in The Underworld.  But Morpheus is left with a deep remorse over how he treated his son and for Orpheus’ death.  Morpheus retreats to his private rooms in his castle where he weeps, alone.

Morpheus eventually gets mistaken as the kidnapper of baby Daniel ( a child who, while fetal, spent an unusually long time in The Dreaming realm.  Daniel is the son of Hector Hall, the second superhero Sandman who passed away).   Lyta, the baby’s Mother, is lead to believe her child is dead.  She calls upon the Kindly Ones (representatives of the crone aspect of The Triple Goddess) to seek revenge. They tell her that they cannot seek revenge for her son but an Endless is not allowed to kill someone of their own blood, nor is Morpheus allowed to kill at all except to protect The Dreaming.  As Morpheus has violated these ancient rules, they can seek revenge over the death of Orpheus.

The end of the Sandman comics has Morpheus “die” sacrificing himself to stop The Kindly Ones from Destroying The Dreaming.  Morpheus’ loved ones grieve him but it’s a little ambiguous as to if he’s truly dead.  Morpheus had become weary of his role as ruler of The Dreaming but he knew that he could not just abandon it the way Destruction had abandoned his role.  And he could not quit the way Lucifer had, though he does quote Lucifer about being so very tired.

 The Kindly ones seek Morpheus’ death or the destruction of The Dreaming.  Morpheus gives up his life to save his realm, allowing his sister, Death, to take him.  As Morpheus “dies” all of his memories and power pass on into baby Daniel, who transforms and now wears an emerald with a small amount of Dream’s soul within it.  Everything that was mortal of Daniel is gone as he is transformed into the new incarnation of Dream.

When Lyta had mistakenly thought Morpheus had taken her baby, Daniel had actually been kidnapped by Puck and Loki but Daniel was ultimately rescued by a Nightmare being known as The Corinthian, and Morpheus’ Raven spy / messenger, Matthew (who had been a human soul who died in his sleep and was allowed to remain in The Dreaming after his death as Morpheus’ loyal servant.  Matthew (in his human form) had originally been a character of the Swamp Thing comics.

Daniel- now simply calling himself Dream- (which was Morpheus’ alternate name) took an adult form that looks much like Morpheus except with white hair instead of black.  This can be seen as similar to a Doctor Who style regeneration however there are other things that make Morpheus’ death fishy and or potentially a false ending.

Hob AKA Robert (Morpheus’ immortal friend) has a dream of Morpheus in which Morpheus is with a man he does not know (Destruction) and both walk off together. 

This can imply two things.  1.  Morpheus could have faked his death very elaborately and is telling Hob (as he has told Hob things via dreams before) or 2.  Morpheus did die and Daniel resurrected him as a Dream (which actually is one of his powers, to resurrect anyone who dies in The Dreaming realm as a Dream entity, maintaining free will, personality, and soul).  

And that’s about it.

Though there are serious and complex parts, some of Sandman is fun and light too, such as when Morpheus allows Delirium to drive... in the human world...

And there you go.  A crash course in what the Hell Neil Gaiman’s Sandman actually is.  Despite the spoilers of this post, I assure you that the actual comics are much more enjoyable to read.

[keywestlou]

NATIVITY SCENE AT THE BORDER

  The border. The southern border where Trump created a diabolical living situation.

There is still God. In this instance, the Claremont United Methodist Church in eastern Los Angeles.

The Chinese have a saying. One picture is worth a thousand words. Claremont United Methodist created a visual that says it all.

A nativity scene. Befitting the Yuletide season upon us.

The Church erected a nativity scene in front of its building. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Except in a different setting. Jesus, Mary and Joseph each in a separate chain linked cage. Barb wired on top. The baby Jesus in the center cage. Mary and Joseph in cages on either side.

Says it all!

Lunched yesterday at Geiger Key.

Enjoy the setting. Isolated. Peaceful.

Not yet Christmas. However, the place was packed. Not tourists. Geiger Key locals. Mosty live on Geiger Key itself.

Nothing spectacular about Geiger Key. Modest homes, many trailers.

After lunch, put the top down and took a ride on some of the back roads. No grandiose structures. A sense of intimacy permeates the area. You and God.

Some things can only be described as “cute.” This one, for example.

The year 1886. A double wedding took place in Key West. Eighty two year old John Lane married 80 year old Mary Harris. John’s younger brother William 79 married Helen Saunders 70.

Union giant Jimmy Hoffa visited Key West this day in 1961. The purpose of his trip to inspect the Casa Marina and La Concha Hotels. They had been recently acquired by his union.

Kirk Douglas’ birthday today! One hundred three years old!

God bless him!

Still kicking in spite of a stroke several years ago.

His early background interesting. Douglas was born and raised in Amsterdam, New York. Fifty miles from my hometown of Utica.

I drove through Amsterdam many times for court, the Saratoga races, etc. As you cross the main thoroughfare of Amsterdam, the street sign reads Kirk Douglas Highway.

Douglas was born of Jewish Russian immigrant parents. His name till he became an actor, Issur Danielovitch.

As soon as I finish today’s blog, I will be glued to the TV. The House Judiciary Committee Impeachment Inquiry. I am a political junkie. The proceedings interest me greatly.

Tonight, I hope to make Dueling Bartenders.

How many times have I brought The Charge of the Light Brigade to your attention? Can’t help it. Love the story, love the rhyme.

The poem was published this day in 1859. A mere 6 weeks following the battle. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. At the time, poet laureate of Great Britain.

He did not actually view the battle. He heard and read much about it. The battle was the heroic event of the time.

The poem lives and breathes to this day.

Pertinent stanzas: “Half a league, half a league, / Half a league onward, / All in the valley of Death / Rode the six hundred….. / Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to do and die.”

A love affair is apparently over. Nothing more sad. I refer to the “love affair” between Trump and Kim Jong Un.

Two years now and no “deal” entered into. Trump says do not be concerned. Kim and I have an excellent relationship. We exchange “love letters.”

A couple of days ago, North Korea let go with its strongest missile test yet. His missiles are becoming strong enough to reach the U.S.

Yesterday, North Korea issued a statement: Trump is a “thoughtless and sneaky old man.”

Keep up the good work, Donald!

Trump is doing well with China, also. His trade war with China has crippled the American farm industry. Caused other U.S. businesses to lose money.

China ordered yesterday that all Chinese government offices and public institutions were to remove foreign computer equipment and software within 3 years.

Such will definitely hurt HP, Dell and Microsoft.

The Financial Times reported: “The move is part of a broader campaign to increase China’s reliance on home-made technologies, and is likely to fuel concern of decoupling, with supply chains between the U.S. and China being severed.”

Another “Thank you, Donald” situation. Trump the man who told us during the campaign that he understood trade wars, that trade wars were good, that he loved them, and that he wins them.

He bullshits even himself!

Rudy Giuliani gaining in notoriety daily. Another person who bullshits himself.

He is of no value to Trump. Giuliani has lost it. He has reached the point in life where he has mental problems.

Sad. He was yesterday’s “wonder man.” The greatest Mayor ever!

He will not be remembered for his post 9/11 days. History will report his activities during the Trump years.

The mighty fall!

Enjoy your day!

  NATIVITY SCENE AT THE BORDER was originally published on Key West Lou

[illuminating-dragons]

A Whiteness of Black Swans

Summary:  When Sam attempts to kill himself after the events of the Season 7 finale, he doesn’t die. Instead, he wakes up in the Cage, the last two years a hallucination. Hoping to stop some of the horrors he saw, he and Adam make a desperate effort to leave the Cage. But once they’re out, they discover that the world is very different than they expected, and there are problems to solve that are going to take more than Team Free Will. It’s going to take some unlikely team-ups, some family bonding and some interdimensional travel to make sure everyone makes it home.

Word Count:  83,578

SPN AU Big Bang 2016

Link to Art: http://catgeek55.tumblr.com/post/155670216941/for-the-spn-au-big-bang-i-signed-up-as-an-artist

Read it on AO3

Chapter One: Prologue: When You Can’t Take it Anymore

          “Sorry Moose, wish I could help, you certainly got a lot on your plate right now. Looks like you are well and truly on your own.”

           A snap, and Crowley vanished, going wherever Kevin was, most likely.

           Which wasn’t where Dean and Cas were.

           Or rather, it was, because all three of them were in the same place.

           Not with Sam.

           Shaking violently, Sam stared around the lab, trying desperately to think of something to do. But Dean and Cas were still nowhere to be found. This wasn’t some kind of sick joke; Crowley wasn’t lying. Kevin was out of reach now, too.

           You are well and truly on your own.

           What the Hell was he going to do?

           He hadn’t heard from Meg since before they’d gotten here—Crowley probably had her too.

           Truly on your own.

           He couldn’t mount a charge against the King of Hell alone, couldn’t drag anyone innocent into it either. The angels would be hunting him, looking for Cas, and he’d have no answers.

           On your own.

           Dean…Cas…Kevin…

           Sam shook his head. There was nowhere to go. His best friend and his brother were dead, his allies in the hands of someone who hated one and wanted to use the other.

           On. Your. Own.

           Sam pulled his gun from his waistband. He shouldn’t do this. He should go on, try to figure this out. The Leviathans were still around…there were people to save…

           But how could he do that when he couldn’t save his friends?

           Sam laid the barrel of the gun against his temple, the cool metal promising some kind of relief.

           Sorry, Dean.

           Sam closed his eyes, pulled the trigger and the world exploded….

           And then reformed. He was tied to the wall of the Cage, frost creeping up his arms, and Lucifer stood in front of him, laughing in his face.

           “You finally did it!”

           Sam screamed.

Chapter Two: HBO in the Pit

            No.

            No.

            No.

           WHAT?

           Sam struggled against the chains—where had the chains come from where was he what was going on—but they didn’t give an inch. He stared helplessly at Lucifer, who was still chuckling, tears in his eyes.

           “That was even better than I thought it would be!”

           “You’re not real,” Sam gasped. “This isn’t happening.”

           “You keep telling yourself that,” Lucifer pointed out. “You’ve been telling yourself that for the last, what, three years? Or was it two? I dunno, the timeline was a bit wonky, sorry about that. I didn’t realize exactly how stubborn you are.”

           He came closer, his breath hot on Sam’s neck. “Time to wake up though, Sammy.”

           Sam flinched, the way he’d flinched for the last hundred-plus years, because that wasn’t Lucifer’s name for him, that was Dean’s, and Dean was dead…

           Lucifer laughed. “He may not be. After all, he never met the Leviathans.”

           Shaking in the frigid wind that whipped around the Cage but never doused the flames, Sam tried to calm his thoughts. He couldn’t manage it. WherewasDeanWherewasCasWhataboutBobbyandCharlieandKevinandMegandCrowleyWhathappened?

           Lucifer sighed, stroking a hatefully gentle hand through Sam’s hair. “I suppose I’ll have to fix this now, or you’ll be babbling about it for ages. You’ve got a one-track mind sometimes, Sam.” He snapped his fingers.

           ColdHotFireIcePainPainPainPain

           A relentless cycle of horror and violation, unbroken by any attempt to free him.

           Brief moments of respite when the archangels clashed together, only to turn on Sam when they were finished.

           Then one day Lucifer dragged him from Adam, crowing that he’d come up with the best plan yet.

           Slamming Sam against the wall of the Cage, whispering “your safeword’s a bullet in your mouth”, the last view was a horrified Adam before he found himself back in Stull Cemetery. Lucifer standing before him, still in Nick’s vessel because that was the only way Sam could process him when he was this weak, and smiled. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, and snapped, and before Sam could try to hold onto the nonreality of this world his mind was filled with certainty that he’d really gotten out, but who’d saved him? And why did he feel so…off?

           The vision faded, and Sam groaned.

           “There we are,” Lucifer whispered. “Good boy, now you understand.”

           He never got out. He was still trapped. His family was still a million miles away.

           Sam choked on a sob, tears coming before he could stop them. Although what was the point, really? Lucifer always knew. Always saw.

           “Poor thing,” Lucifer crooned, stroking Sam’s cheek. “Yes, Sam, you’ve always been here. Even when you began to trust Dean, when you thought Castiel cured your madness …yes, that was amusing. I was the only real thing you spoke to for two years, and you couldn’t see it even when I told you straight out.”

           “But the people…” Sam tried to pull some shreds of composure together. “I’d never seen some of them, how...”

           “Who? The prophet boy and the computer girl?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I saw them both when I was free for that very brief time.” He yanked Sam’s hair, grinding the back of his head against the rusty bars. “They were mildly interesting, and I thought you might like them. If you’d held on any longer the girl would have died too. Horribly. Most likely in a bathroom. And it would have been your fault.”

           Sam tried to shake his head, but Lucifer slammed his head against the bars again. “And you know what the saddest part about all of this is? Beyond how many terrible life decisions you make even in a dreamscape?” He leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Is that you’d rather still be there. You’d rather still be out there dead than in here. But here’s the thing Sam. No one cares what you want.”

           Enough, Lucifer.

           Lucifer turned. “Killjoy.”

           Michael towered over them. He’d quickly left Adam’s body once they entered the Cage, assuming his true form. Lucifer preferred to stay in Nick’s shape, though his power was anything but human. Sam couldn’t decide which was more frightening.

           You’ve made your point.

           “Jealous, Mikey?” Lucifer snapped his fingers and Sam slumped to the floor of the Cage, chains gone. “Want me to play with you again? Are you gonna let me choose the game?”

           Lucifer.

           Lucifer grinned. Michael reached a hand down and scooped Sam up. He tossed him easily to the other side of the Cage, today several hundred feet away. Sam felt his right femur break, but the pain barely registered.

           Michael looked at him, his face (if you could really call it that) emotionless. You deserve this, Sam Winchester. This rest. But you also deserve this pain. You understand this, correct?

           Sam nodded, beginning to shake with fever as the heat in this part of the Cage began to overwhelm him. Of course he knew, even without Michael’s reminders. Lucifer wrote the lesson across his skin and soul on a daily basis.

           Good.

           “Come on, Mikey, let’s play already!” Lucifer shed Nick’s form and grew a hundred stories, glowing with hellfire.

           The archangels clashed together and Sam closed his eyes.

           “Sam?”

           His eyes flew open. “Adam?!”

           That’s when Sam lost it. He started crying again, harder than before. Adam came into view, blue eyes worried as he touched Sam’s face. His skin was peeling, cracking from the heat, but the touch was still softer than Lucifer’s. More to the point, it wasn’t like the touch of the people in the dreamscape; he couldn’t explain it, but it was real. He wasn’t alone.

           Somehow that only made him feel worse.

Chapter Three: Sealed by God Himself (Can’t Call a Locksmith) 

            As Sam began to calm, he felt Adam wrap shaky, thin arms around him. Against his will, he leaned back against his little brother and closed his eyes.

           This was wrong. Sam was the older brother; he was supposed to take care of Adam. He’d already damned him by dragging his possessed body into the Cage, but that was an accident. From the very first moment they fell, Sam swore that he would protect Adam. This was supposed to be his punishment, redemption won through endless agony. Adam had no reason to be punished.

           Sometimes he succeeded. He convinced Lucifer over and over again that he shouldn’t torture Adam, that there were still other ways of making Sam scream, other games they hadn’t played; he let Michael throw him around the Cage. When the archangels fought, Sam took Adam to the furthest corners of the Cage and held him tightly, told him stories, tried to distract him from the howls of the damned and the screeches of the archangels.

           But he failed far, far more often. Because Lucifer had many, many ways of breaking Sam down until nothing could save him: not pride, strength, not even love for this brother he still barely knew after over a hundred years in the same Cage, love that made him want to be like Dean and hide all the pain. But (and Sam might have remembered this if he hadn’t been so tired) Dean couldn’t stop his hurt from showing all the time. And on the worst days, when weeks of non-stop torture finally ended and Lucifer threw Sam across the Cage, Sam couldn’t bring himself to be strong.

           On those days Adam would try to soothe Sam, to take care of him as best as he could. In his rare charitable moods Michael would give Adam bandages and even salves. They weren’t really necessary because Sam couldn’t die and Lucifer would always heal him back to ‘clean slate’ status before they began again, but they eased the worst hurt and gave Adam something to do with his hands. Then Adam would try to distract Sam, hug him despite being so much smaller, try to keep him from the devil’s wandering eyes.

           It wasn’t fair to the kid, but those days happened no matter how much Sam fought, because it was too much, and he was so tired, and it felt good to have some affection after Lucifer’s delicate torture and Michael’s ferocious beatings. So he let himself lean on Adam, if only to have enough strength to beg Lucifer to keep his attention on him the next time, always at least one more time.

           That was all they could do for each other.

           “Did he hurt you?” Sam asked.

           “No.” Adam’s arms tightened, shook. “They both left me alone…but Lucifer made me watch.”

           Sam winced. “Could you hear what was happening?”

           “Not really. You would cry out, sometimes, but other than that you were quiet. Lucifer told us what was happening, though.”

           There was a world of unspoken pain in Adam’s tone. Sam tried to push himself up, and Adam helped him lean against the wall. Sam put his arm around Adam’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

           Adam didn’t answer right away. “You just kept fighting. It was awful, why didn’t you listen to Lucifer when he told you it wasn’t real?”

           Sam couldn’t answer, couldn’t understand how he’d ever believed in that world, in those people, in that Dean... Pain spiked in his heart. “I guess I wanted to believe it was real.”

           “But such awful things happened!”

           Sam laughed, the sound rusty. When was the last time he’d laughed for real? “That was pretty much par for the course, Adam.”

           Adam leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder. “That sucks. A lot. It sounded …it sounded like Hell, Sam.”

           Sam just shook his head. “It wasn’t.” He choked on another sob. “It was anything but Hell.”

           “But you killed yourself.”

           “I thought I’d end up dead. Which was better than being alone…and a thousand times better than the Cage. Now I’m back here.”

           “I’m…is it horrible that I’m not really sorry?” Adam ducked away, hand coming up as if he expected Sam to hit him. “It’s over, at least. And…I’m glad that I’m not alone.”

           Sam didn’t speak.

           “That was awful. I’m sorry.”

           Sam grabbed hold of Adam, held him as tightly as he could. “It wasn’t awful, Adam. I’m glad I’m not alone here too, even though it means…”

           “Yeah.” Adam tucked his face against Sam’s shoulder. “I guess it just all sucks.”

           A loud bang startled them apart. Sam glanced over, saw Lucifer slamming Michael against the wall. “Who’s going to tap out this time?”

           “Michael’s been really bored,” Adam replied. “I’ll bet it’s Lucifer.”

           “He hardly ever taps out.”

           “You’re on.”

           It was meaningless—they had nothing to give. Sam wasn’t sure if Adam even kept that record, but it was something to talk about.

           Wait.

           Records…there was something there…

           Adam touched his face. “Sam, you with me?” He reached over and grabbed a small glass. “Here, Michael actually gave me some water, I saved some for you.”

           Sam took the cup and drank one long draught—no point rationing, their provisions appeared and disappeared at the whim of their tormentors. The cool, pure water was gone in an instant, but the confusion remained. There was something vitally important to think about…

           But what was it?

           Adam drew Sam down, pillowing his head on the small pile of rags they’d managed to keep from ‘sessions’. “Go to sleep while you can, brother,” he whispered. “I’ll keep watch. Last time they fought for weeks, you can take a few hours for sure.”

           Sam was too weak to protest, and sleep sounded amazing. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was a determined scratching sound. Adam, marking off another day (or week? Month?) in the Cage.

           MARKS.

           That was it!

           Jolted awake, Sam looked around wildly. Adam was curled up, chin rested on his knees as he rocked slowly back and forth. The deafening roar of the archangels hadn’t quieted.

           Sam crawled over to Adam, trying to keep his weight off his broken leg. Adam jerked out of his doze. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

           “How long have we been down here?”

           Adam’s eyes widened. It was strange for Sam to be asking; while Adam had kept a faithful record of the passing days, Sam had refused to pay attention. They were here for eternity; who cared whether it was Tuesday?

           Staring warily, Adam scooted back so that Sam could see the web of marks. “What do you want to know?”

           “How long have we been here in years?”

           Adam traced the marks. “One hundred and nineteen years and eleven months,” he said bleakly. “Everyone we know must be dead by now.”

           Sam traced the shape too, a grin forming on his face for the first time in…well, probably one hundred and nineteen years and eleven months.

           “Why is that a good thing?” Adam snapped.

           “Because, Adam,” Sam said patiently, “Hell time is different from Earth time. One month is ten years, roughly speaking.”

           “So…”

           “We’ve been here a year, almost, in Earth time.”

           “So…great. What’s the difference? We’re still never going to get out.”

           “We have to!” Adam drew back, eyes wary, but Sam plunged on. “Some of the things I saw—I know Lucifer made them up, but they could happen! But they haven’t happened yet, so we can stop them.”

           “Also it would be nice to be out,” Adam said sarcastically. “While we’re at it, I’d like a million dollars and a boyfriend.”

           “You’re gay?” Sam asked, a bit thrown.

           “Yeah. So?”

           Sam shook his head. “Guess it runs in the family. Skipped me, though. Maybe it’s Michael’s line…”

           “Getting away from my sexuality…”

           Sam reached out and touched the marks. “That wall is real.”

           Adam was looking seriously worried now. “Yes…”

           “But the walls move, Adam!”

           Adam nodded warily. The Cage’s dimensions shifted constantly. Some days it seemed to be miles wide and tall, others the space was so small they were forced to sit on each other’s laps. Sam shuddered at those memories: Lucifer always cuddled him and whispered all the ways he was going to hurt him when there was more space.        

           Sam ran his fingers over the marks again. “This wall is glowing, Adam.”

           “I don’t see it.”

           “Look, it’s not exactly glowing, it’s…shiny, I guess? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s different, okay?  Now look.” He pointed past Adam’s shoulder. Six feet away the wall they were leaning against hit a corner. “That wall over there isn’t real. It’s an illusion.”

           “Are you sure?”

           “Yes. Here, I’ll prove it.” Sam started to get up, falling back when his right leg collapsed.

           “No, you stay there, I’ll do it.” Adam got to his feet and walked over to the wall. He rapped his knuckles on it, looking at Sam in confusion. “It feels solid.”

           “It’s not there, Adam. Just trust me, and put your hand through it.”

           Adam turned away and reached out again. Sam watched, shaking with relief when Adam’s hand slowly disappeared into the wall.

           Adam yanked his hand back and stared at Sam in disbelief. “That’s…wow. How did you know?” He came back and sat next to Sam.

           “I can see it,” Sam said. “I’m not sure why, but…” he reached out and touched Adam’s shoulder, nearly weeping with relief when it didn’t go through. “I know you’re real.” He picked up the empty glass and slowly pushed his thumb right through it; the glass vanished. “That wasn’t real.” He looked across at the towering, fighting archangels. “They’re real, and so is the ceiling.”

           “Maybe it’s because you were in the dream world?” Adam suggested. “Lucifer changed the way you felt things so that they’d feel real—maybe now you’re hypersensitive to what’s real and fake in the Cage. Either way, how exactly does that help us?”            For answer, Sam picked up the rock that Adam used to make the marks. A whole pile of them had fallen in with them, and Sam couldn’t crush them. Real. Good to know.

           He applied one to the wall, scratching at the surface until a faint mark appeared. “These rocks affect the real wall.”

           He let Adam absorb that, praying that he wasn’t wrong.

           “Wait.” Adam’s voice was choked. “Do you mean—”

           “We can at least try, right?” Sam continued to scratch, only a short line, barely bigger than his thumb. “Here, you try too.”

           It took hours, long, fruitless hours constantly checking over their shoulders to make sure Michael and Lucifer didn’t see them, switching arms when the repetitive motion became too painful. They didn’t speak to each other, concentrating only on the thin line that was definitely getting deeper.

           Then Sam made one last cut and the rock hit air.

           Hardly daring to breathe, Sam put the rock down and pressed the tip of his finger into the space. A blast of air—boiling hot, hotter than the Cage’s worst fire—met his finger, nearly burning it. Sam stared at Adam, who’d just broken through himself.

           “We can do this,” Adam whispered.

           “We can,” Sam agreed. “It’ll take time. And we have to be careful.”

           Adam’s shoulders sagged. “Wait, we can’t do this. We’ll let them out, and that’ll be worse than anything.”

           Sam shuddered at the thought of Michael and Lucifer chasing them back to Earth. No. “We’ll have to make the hole small, so they can’t fit. Look at them—their true forms are way too big, and they can’t exist without a vessel outside of Heaven. That was the Apocalypse problem.”

           “Are you sure?”

           “…Not entirely. But I’m getting you out of here.”

           Adam put his hand over Sam’s. “We’re going together, brother,” he said, a grim smile on his face. “Now come on, we’ve got scratching to do.”

Chapter Four: One Jump

           Adam wished he could put his hands over his ears, but the fourth side was almost done, and there wasn’t much time. So he had to keep working, had to keep both hands moving the rock up and down, up and down, couldn’t spare them to cover his ears.

           But Sam was screaming so loudly, the sound reverberating over and over again. In the early years, when his brother’s screams weren’t so familiar, Adam wasn’t able to tell the echoes apart from the real screams. He wished he still couldn’t.

           Adam had never been one to pray; his mother was a comfortable agnostic and let her son make his own decisions. He'd never felt the need for religion, and his first encounter with angels hadn't exactly raised his opinion of celestial power.

           But he remembered Castiel, an angel brave enough to put his human charges first against the orders of the highest archangels. More importantly, he had faith in his brother, who had volunteered to be tortured one last time to give Adam a chance to work on the door without worrying that Lucifer would notice. And Sam, even after everything, still believed.

           So Adam prayed.

           Please, if anyone is listening, let this be the last time I hear my brother scream this way. Please let us get out. I will die, I will live in Hell, I don't care what price I have to pray. But I can't live like this anymore.

           Maybe something did hear him, because the rock suddenly broke through again. Adam held his breath, worried that the entire panel would fall away and disturb the angels from their work.

           But it held. There was about an inch still connecting the five by four square to the rest of the Cage, and amazingly that was enough.

           Behind him, Sam's screaming began to taper off. Adam winced as he heard his brother sobbing and choking. Hours ago, when Lucifer had dragged him away, Michael told Adam not to look, that he didn't need to see what was about to happen, and Adam had obeyed. If he hadn't, Michael would have dragged him to another corner and copied Lucifer exactly. Michael might have been the oldest, but more often than not he took his cue from Lucifer when it came to hurting Adam.

           Adam had lied to Sam. He'd watched Sam suffer through his hallucinations, but he hadn't done it from a 'peaceful' corner of the Cage. In fact, he’d spent a good part of the last two years on his own table as Michael punished him. Lucifer kept up a running commentary on both tortures: “wow, Adam, your brother really likes having sex when he's soulless, I'm doing him a favour” … “Mikey, you need to alter your technique every once in a while. Try heat instead of blunt instruments”.

           It was awful, certainly, but Adam honestly preferred it to the usual. In almost a hundred and twenty years, Sam had been dragged off to torture sessions hundreds, maybe thousands of times. Sometimes they would last for weeks, and Adam would be alone most of the time. Once he’d tried to stop Lucifer from hurting Sam, but the Devil had just laughed and told Michael that he’d better keep a closer eye on his little pet. Michael had punished him severely for that.

           You will obey me, Vessel, he said sternly as Adam screamed. You will not interfere with my brother and his vessel. You will stay where you are. If we allow you time with him, it is by our mercy. If you cannot obey, your brother will stay with mine for the rest of eternity with no peace. Do you understand?

           Adam had sworn to obey, and he never tried to interfere again. Better that he could sometimes be able to comfort Sam, give him some moments of unconscious peace as he watched Lucifer and Michael fight, then to try again and fail.

           Sam was strong. He was a hero. Adam wasn't a hero; he wasn't even a hunter. If he hadn't said yes to Michael, he wouldn't be here, wouldn't be a burden for Sam to protect. Why shouldn’t Michael punish him for that fraternal sin?

           Right now all Adam could do was pretend that he had given up, and ask one more favour.

           He walked backwards, careful not to turn around as Sam's sobs subsided. He sat down, legs shaking, hoping that he was far enough from the Cage wall that the archangels wouldn't notice the cracks they'd made. The air that came in was much hotter than the Cage itself, but Adam wasn't entirely sure that the angels could sense temperature in the way that humans could. No skin, no heat?

          Sam was quiet now and Adam waited, hardly daring to breathe.

          Are we done already, brother? Michael asked. Adam clenched his fists.

         “I think so. I just needed to celebrate you tapping out, and Sam was very helpful with that.” His stomach curling, Adam heard Lucifer kiss Sam, and Sam's pained, soft whimper.

          Then put him back. I want a rematch.

          Lucifer laughed. “Already? Come on, Michael, let me rest on my laurels a bit.” But Sam grunted, and Adam heard Lucifer walking towards him. Adam risked turning around at last, and he saw that Lucifer was once again in Nick's form, cradling Sam's broken body close against his chest. Sam was hanging limp, his eyes dull and unfocused.

         Lucifer grinned at Adam and tossed Sam next to him. Sam groaned with pain but he didn't open his eyes, barely flinched.

         “Like what you see, Adam?” Lucifer asked. “Want a turn?”

          He asked that every time, and every time, remembering Michael's promise, Adam said no. It might win Sam a short reprieve, but it would be his last. He really couldn't do it now; if he did, they would never have another chance to get out.

          “No,” he whispered.

          Lucifer sighed. “Shame. You're...different than he is. There's more things to try with you.”

          Leave my vessel alone, Michael snapped.

          “Will you relax? I was just offering.”

            Adam swallowed, looking at his broken older brother. They'd never escape if Sam was this wounded. He had to ask.

          “Michael, I beg your kindness, will you heal my brother?”

           Adam was tense as Michael looked down at him. It was hard to read the angel's face in his true form, and Adam always worried that he'd angered the archangel. Michael seemed to have a slow temper; he'd only punished Adam a few times for “asking for too much,” though Adam could have sworn they were requests he'd made before. Thankfully Sam had been unconscious those times—he'd never seen Adam tortured. This time, though, Michael needed to heal Sam. If he didn't...

           It didn't bear thinking about. The longer the hole was there, the longer they were at risk.

            Michael reached down and touched Sam. Adam sagged with relief when he saw Sam's body put itself back together, bones knitting together and skin reconnecting.

            This has a cost, Michael said.

             Adam nodded. It always did. “And I will pay it.” Please not now, please not now…

            Michael tilted his head. Not this moment, however. I need to teach my brother how to fight.

          “Says the guy who lost last time.”  Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You two little monkeys curl up together. We'll be just over—THERE.” With one swift motion he regained his true form and slammed into Michael, sending him flying across the Cage.

             Adam shoved all the rocks into his pockets—they couldn’t leave the tools behind—and shook Sam frantically. “Sam, wake up!”  

            Sam's eyes flew open and he let out a shuddering breath. “Ad?”

           “Fine. Here. You're fine. Come on, it's almost done!”

           Sam scrambled to get up, but his legs were still weak. Adam yanked him to his feet, letting his much taller brother lean on him as they walk-ran to the wall.

           Sam sagged to the ground and pressed his hand carefully against the square. It slid just slightly, letting in a blast of Hell air.

          “Are you ready?” Adam asked, suddenly uncertain. They had no idea what was out there—maybe they should wait until Sam felt stronger? Until they were sure the archangels were distracted?

          Sam looked up at Adam. Adam was shocked at the depth of purpose and determination in his brother's eyes. “Let's go, Adam,” he said, and he shoved the square. There was a screeching sound, the inch still attached to the Cage gave way, and the square of Cage wall fell.

          Adam poked his head out disbelievingly. The Cage was hanging, suspended over a bottomless pit. About four feet below there was a ledge that jutted out which seemed to be made of obsidian, where the section of Cage lay. A fiery light came from somewhere, but Adam couldn't see its source.

         “Adam, go!”

          Adam snapped out of it, and threw himself through the hole. He landed on the obsidian ledge with a thud, wincing as his bare arms and legs were scraped by the rock. The heat hit him like a truck, but he forced himself to roll out of the way. He looked up to see Sam back out of the Cage, lowering himself more carefully.

          Adam heard a roar, a sound that never failed to mean misery for his brother. “Sam, hurry!”

          Sam's feet hit the ground just as a bright light came hurtling towards the hole. Adam tensed as Lucifer's foot made contact with the Cage wall just above the hole, but the Cage somehow held.

           Adam watched in fascination as Sam leaned over and picked up the piece of the Cage. He lifted it and held it back in place. Lucifer (or was it Michael?) hit the wall again, but Sam held the piece firmly, pushing back against the blow. Adam stood and put his hands next to Sam.

          “We can't stand like this forever!” he called.

            Another blow came, the force rattling Adam's bones, but the piece stayed in place. Adam risked a glance at Sam and saw that his brother had his eyes closed tightly, concentrating hard.

          Before Adam could ask what his brother was doing, Sam said something in what Adam thought was Latin and his palms glowed red. The piece of the Cage they'd cut out glowed too, and to Adam's complete shock the red light travelled around the edges. Sam took away his hands, and after a moment's hesitation Adam did as well. There was no indication that there'd ever been cuts in the Cage; it was whole again and solid.

           Sam grabbed Adam and drew him away. They watched together, just barely able to see the light of the archangels' Grace.

          Then there was a howl, louder and more horrible than almost anything Adam had ever heard. Whether it was Michael or Lucifer, he couldn't say. But it didn't matter. They couldn't get out.

          He looked at Sam, who was staring at the Cage with a look Adam almost didn't recognize. But he was feeling it too.

          It was triumph.

         They'd actually gotten out.

         The archangels were still trapped.

         They could do this.

Chapter 5: Left, Right, Up, Down, We Don’t Know Which Way to Go

           For a moment the two of them stood together, staring up at the Cage. Sam was numb with shock. They were looking at the outside of the Cage, not the interior. They were out. Really out, because the walls were shining and that meant they were real but they weren't trapped anymore and they were out.

          The heat was intense, nearly all consuming, and Sam automatically went to remove his shirt. But of course, he wasn't wearing one. He was completely naked, which he supposed made sense. The clothes that Lucifer and Michael would sometimes give them were constructions of the Cage. Now that they were out, they had nothing.

          That was good news in a way, but as Sam looked upwards his heart sank. The walls of the pit were made of obsidian, and jagged ledges stuck out at odd intervals. A staircase of some sort, maybe for demons to check on the Cage. Climbing up, though, with no clothing or shoes to protect their skin and in this kind of heat...

          Torture.

          Then again, he was used to torture.

           Sam turned to Adam. “I think up is our best bet.”

           He hadn't meant to make a joke but Adam smiled anyways, lips cracked dry with the blistering wind. “Considering how far we fell, I'd say that's reasonable.”

          “Can you do it?” Sam asked.

          Adam squared his shoulders. “We don't really have a choice, do we?”

          “Yes we do,” Sam replied. “We choose to live.”

           Adam reached forward and drew Sam into a tight hug. It only lasted a second—his brother's body heat was deeply unpleasant—but Sam felt a bit stronger.

           “Then let's get climbing,” Adam said.

           Sam had no idea how long they'd been climbing. There were no more marks to guide them, looking down was too much effort and they were somehow still alive.

           He knew they'd made progress, because they'd passed the upper limits of the Cage a while ago, but he had no idea how much further they had to go.

           Adam was at his side, burns creeping up his arms and torso as they forged upwards into the heat. The ledges weren't always wide enough to stand side by side, and once Sam had to kneel and make a bridge out of his body so that Adam could get across, body pressed against the wall of the pit as he shimmied across Sam's burnt skin. Sam's heart ached every time Adam so much as gasped with pain, but they were both quieter now. No food, no water...they still weren't dead, but how much longer could they last? Unless you couldn't die in Hell, either.

           Sam wasn't sure whether that was a gift or a punishment.

      ��    Their world became each other and the next step—walk beside, walk around, lift up, bend down, don't look down, don't look up, have to keep moving, can't stop, how can we stop if there's nowhere to rest and what does rest even mean now? We can't go back, we have to keep fighting, it's hot it's so hot I'm so tired, we're so tired brother move brother don't stop brother keep going...

           Then Adam screamed with shock. Sam was below him, Adam standing on his shoulders to reach the next ledge.

           “What is it?” Somehow he could still speak.

           “We're at the top,” Adam replied, his voice shaking. “We're out.” Sam felt Adam's weight leave his shoulders and finally dared to look up.

           Adam was right. The wall ended just above them. They were out of the pit.

           Adam was bending down now, arms outstretched. There were no more ledges to climb on; Adam had to pull him up. Sam reached up and took his brother's hands. “If you can't lift me, you keep going alone,” he rasped.

           “I'll lift you,” Adam answered. He pulled, and Sam braced his legs against the wall, trying to walk up as Adam pulled him. Inch by shaking, desperate inch, he was pulled up, the obsidian slashing at his feet. It didn't matter. That pain was nothing.

           At last, Sam's upper half was over the ledge and he was able to propel himself upwards with a heaving effort. He lay next to Adam, shaking with exhaustion. He counted thirty seconds, the longest wait they'd allowed themselves since they started to climb, then forced himself to his hands and knees. Adam was crouched on the ground, looking around him furtively.

           Sam wasn't sure what he'd expected of Hell, but it wasn't quite this. For as far as he could see, there was empty space. The ground and walls were blistered red clay that was warm to the touch but not hot, and there were torches hung along the walls. There were no living creatures anywhere, and no sound except the crackling of the fire and some distant howls from the Pit. Sam shuddered; Lucifer and Michael were furious.

           But that didn't matter anymore, because they wouldn't be able to hurt him for it. Couldn't hurt Adam, either.

           Adam had managed to get to his feet, and Sam tried to do the same. He managed to make it to a kneeling position before his arms gave out. Adam bent down, and with his arm around Sam's shoulders he managed to get them both standing.

           “Where now?” Adam asked.

           Sam shrugged. “I don't know. I've never seen a map of Hell—at least not one that wasn't in Dante. Where do you think we should go?”

           “Away from the Pit.” Adam took a step forward, letting go of Sam hesitantly. Sam swayed but he managed to remain on his feet, and he even copied Adam's movement.

           “Watch out for demons,” he managed. “Let's keep moving.”

           So they did. Sam never forgot that walk. The ground was even and didn't burn them as much as the Pit did, but his feet were two bright spots of pain that flared every time he took a step. As they got further from the Cage, the howls faded, but there were no new sounds. Once or twice Sam thought he saw a demon, or at least some living creature, but they were only shadows cast by the torches. For some reason, this part of Hell was abandoned. Maybe even demons didn't want to live too close to their god's prison.

           He and Adam stuck close together, taking turns leaning on each other as they continued. Sam had just enough strength to be terrified of what would happen if they did run into demons. He would offer them his own life in exchange for Adam's, he decided. Demons loved deals. He just hoped his soul would be worth enough that they would consider it.

           It could have been hours, it could have been days, it could have been weeks later, Sam was never sure and he and Adam couldn't agree, but they finally began to hear signs of life. Far off screams, more torches, and Sam could swear he saw a building up ahead.

           Before he could suggest they hide, two demons sprung out of nowhere. Adam screamed, and Sam nearly did the same. He understood what Dean had meant when he called Ruby an 'ugly broad'. The demons were in their true forms, and the huge, batlike wings and mouths full of teeth reminded Sam of Lucifer when he showed him his 'Beast' form.

           Sam put himself in front of Adam. “Don't hurt him,” he gasped.

           The demons drew back; one even put up their hands. “Winchesters,” it hissed with shock. “How did you get out?”

           “We cut a hole,” Sam whispered. “Please, don't hurt my brother.”

           The demon lowered its hands. “Our Father is not with you?”

           Sam's heart sank. Of course, they just feared hurting Lucifer's favourite toy. “Lucifer is still trapped in the Cage, along with the Archangel Michael.” There was no reason to lie.

           To his shock, the demon smiled. “Then you've managed something right, Sam Winchester.”

           There was something familiar about this demon, but Sam couldn't place it.

           “What are you going to do with us?” Adam asked. His eyes were still wide with horror, but his hand was steady as he clutched Sam's hand.

           The demon who hadn't spoken yet waved their hand, and Sam winced as felt clothes settle over his burned skin, a loose shirt and a pair of pants. The other demon waved, and the pain of the burns lessened.

           “We'll take you to our king, of course,” the first demon said, smiling again with all their teeth. “He'll know what to do with you.”

Chapter 6: Good Morning Beautiful 

            Dean blinked awake when the alarm went off. Just once, when we get a motel room, could the jackass before us not set an alarm for the darkest hour before dawn?

           “Kill it,” his bedmate groused.

           Dean slid his arm from under Cas and reached over to the clock, fumbling for the snooze button. The room went quiet.

            Cas wrapped his arm around Dean and pulled him back down. “You need to sleep more, dearest.”

           “And you don’t?” Dean teased.

           “Angels don’t sleep, Dean.”

           “Apparently they still get grumpy in the morning though.”

           Cas didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead he pulled Dean’s head against his chest. Dean laid his ear over Cas’ heart, the familiar slow beat—too slow to sustain a human, too quick for a monster—lulling him into a doze.

           When Dean’s stomach growled an hour later Cas groaned. “Do you have to eat?”

           “I’m hungry, Cas.”

           “Stay.”

           Dean swallowed hard and tightened his hold. “Of course.”

           It could be the last time he ever saw Sam, but he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t.

           Sam was shaky, eyes wild with fear, but there was a steadiness in his hands that told Dean more than anything that his little brother was sure. He was going through with this.

           And he couldn’t save him.

           “As if I’m gonna just let you rot in there.”

           “Yeah, you are.” Sam’s eyes were full of pain, but his resolve was still firm. “You don’t have a choice.”

           “So then what am I supposed to do?” Dean knew that wasn’t fair, knew that he’d asked the exact same thing of Sam, but the angel in Sam’s future wasn’t going to save him.

           Sam’s answer surprised him.

           “You ask Cas to stay with you.”

           “What?”

           “You need him, Dean, and he needs you. Stay with Cas. You can hunt or open a garage or go to college…I don’t care what you do, but you gotta promise me that you’ll keep him in your life, Dean. You can’t run from him.”

           “Why do you think he’d even want to stay?” Dean asked bitterly.

           “Trust me,” Sam replied. “One last time, for me. Please?”

           What else could he do but agree?

           Dean knelt shaking in the graveyard, his face clean of injuries. Cas bent over Bobby, healing the old hunter’s broken neck. Sam was gone with Adam, deep in the pits of Hell…with Lucifer. And Michael.

           And Dean couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fix it.

           Cas came over to him, looking helpless and torn. “Dean…”

           Dean raised his hand and got to his feet despite his trembling knees. “Don’t say sorry, Cas. I’m begging you, don’t.”

           Cas pressed his lips together. He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What can I do?” he asked.

           “Stay.” The last promise he’d made his little brother. “Please Cas, stay.”

           Cas looked surprised, but he nodded. “Of course, Dean. If you want me to.”

           “Yeah, I do,” Dean said.

           It took three days of being holed up in his room at Bobby’s, deliberately not looking at the empty bed next to his, eating because Bobby forced it down his throat, not sleeping and being too tired to even work on Baby for the fight to start.

           Even now Dean’ couldn’t remember exactly what they were fighting about, but somewhere along the line Dean got up to leave the house.

           “Where are you going, Dean?” Cas snapped.

           “Away from here. You’re not my keeper, Cas, I can go by myself.”

           “I am trying to help you, Dean!”

           “I don’t need your help!”

           “Dean, Sam wouldn’t want—”

           “WHO CARES WHAT HE WANTS?!”

           Cas looked at him in total shock, but the dam had been broken and Dean couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

           “He’s gone, Cas, he’s gone! He’s never coming back and I can’t save him! I can’t save Adam! I can’t save anyone I care about! I’m trying to do what he said, what he would want, but I just can’t anymore.” Suddenly a terrible thought occurred. “Sam told me to ask you to stay, Cas. Did he tell you to say yes?”

           Cas looked confused. “Yes, he did, but—”

           Dean’s shoulders sagged. Of course, why would Cas stay with him of his own volition? “Then go. What are you waiting for? You don’t have to honour his wishes or some bullshit like that, if you’re just trying to do what you told Sam—”

           In a blur of movement Cas leapt up from the couch and grabbed hold of him, pinning him against the wall. “Dean Winchester, do you seriously think that I would stay with you if I didn’t want to?”

           Dean stared back, the same awe that he always felt when Cas took control swirling in his stomach.

           “Sam asked me, yes, but I thought you wanted me to stay, Dean.” Cas’ blue eyes bored into his. “If you want me gone, I’ll go. Do you want me to go?”

           Dean couldn’t speak. He felt Cas’ grip loosen. He was going to leave. He thought Dean wanted him to go.

           So Dean kissed him.

           Cas went still under his lips, but he didn’t push Dean away. A few seconds later he responded tentatively, one hand going to cradle Dean’s face.

           Lack of air made Dean finally stop, but he leaned his forehead against the angel’s, unable to move away. “Stay,” he rasped. “Please, Cas.”

           Cas pulled him away from the wall and held him close as Dean finally started to cry. “Of course, Dean. I’ll stay, dearest. I’m here.”

           Finally, Dean pulled away from Cas. “I’ve gotta eat, babe.”

           “Fine.” Cas stretched as Dean got up. “Do we have any food here?”

           “Um…” Dean looked at him hopefully.

           Cas rolled his eyes and snapped. Two plates of bacon and eggs appeared on the room’s tiny table, complete with two mugs of steaming coffee.

           “I love you,” Dean said cheerfully, bending down to give Cas a quick kiss.

           After finding his boxers and a shirt, Dean sat down and dug in hungrily. Cas watched him from the bed.

           “Do you want your food?” Dean finally asked.

           Cas just smiled. “I’ll eat in a moment. I’m content where I am.”

           Dean grinned at him, and glanced at his phone. He dropped his fork.

           April 13th.

           How had he forgotten, even for a second?

           “Dean?”

           Dean heard Cas get out of bed. The angel padded over, following his glance.

           “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

           Dean pushed his plate away and buried his face in his hands. He felt Cas wrap his arms around him, and couldn’t even summon the energy to push him away.

           “I forgot.”

           Cas pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “No you didn’t. You didn’t last night.”

           Dean had cried himself to sleep in Cas’ arms.

           “I shouldn’t ever forget.”

           Here he was, in a motel room with his angel, while his brothers were rotting in the Cage. He shouldn’t be enjoying breakfast. He shouldn’t be happy at all.

           Cas’ arms tightened. “Stop that.”

           “Cas—”

           “Dean. I know this is hard. I miss Sam too. I miss the times we had together. I mourn Adam, and I regret that we didn’t have more time.” Cas began to rock Dean gently. Dean closed his eyes. “I wish that they were with us. I wish I knew that they approved of me being your lover. I wish they could share our lives again, but I do not wish suffering upon myself because I am not with them. Nor do I want you to force yourself to grieve constantly. You must heal Dean; it is human. You have your whole life to mourn them, but you cannot spend it all denying yourself joy. Would you want them doing that, were our positions reversed?”

           Dean swallowed hard, raising his hand and putting over Cas’ strong ones. “No, but…I don’t know, Cas. I just feel bad.” His voice broke and the tears came.

           Cas kept rocking him in silence, letting Dean’s tears flow, dripping onto his arms. “Heaven is in mourning today,” he said eventually.

           “Oh yeah?”

           “Yes. The Council named it the Day of Deliverance. Your brothers will be sung about. Raphael asked me to give you her personal condolences; my faction has done the same.”

           Dean shook his head. “I still can’t believe there’s a Council of Heaven.”

           “You had everything to do with that, dearest.”

           Dean took his hands away from his face and stared up at Cas. “We would never have had a chance without you, sweetheart.”

           A week after Sam and Adam fell, Cas went rigid in Dean’s arms.

           “I’m being summoned,” he explained as Dean shook him frantically. “I must face Raphael.”

           “He’ll kill you,” Dean choked, panicked.

           “I doubt he will. That would not make the example of me that he wishes.”

           “Cas, don’t go. Please.”

           “Dean, I must go. If I do not go of my own free will, the angels will follow me. And I am not ashamed of what I have done.”

           “Then take me with you.” Cas froze, indecisive, but Dean grabbed his hands. “Castiel, I am going with you, whether you like it or not. Maybe I can help.”

           Cas hesitated, then nodded.

           Dean was shoved to his knees next to Cas by two angels he’d never seen before. Raphael stood in front of them, his eyes blazing. They were surrounded by a crowd of other angels.

           “Castiel,” Raphael said, his voice ringing with power. “You turned your back upon the Host, defied every direct order, and caused the planned Apocalypse to be derailed by siding with the Winchesters.” He bent his head and glared at Cas. “You also trapped me in a ring of holy fire, and left me there.”

           Cas winced.

           “Should I do the same to you?” Raphael wondered aloud. “Should I leave you in a cave and keep you in a ring of fire?”

           Dean leapt to his feet. “Don’t you dare—”

           “Quiet, human!” Raphael’s eyes were suddenly burning with fury.

           “Why?” Dean was past caring. “I'm the one that fucked up your plans, get angry with me!”

           “Oh I intend to. You simply come second.”

           Then Dean started laughing. The angels looked shocked. Cas looked horrified.

           “How dare—”

           “Sorry,” Dean wheezed, “but you know this whole thing is funny. The Apocalypse, the run-up, even now, when you're saying you want to punish Cas for disobeying. He's the only one of you winged idiots that actually followed the rules!”

           The stunned silence was deeply gratifying, but Dean plunged on.

           “Well, maybe not all the rules, but he followed the big one. Didn't God tell you to love humans? More than Him? More than any other rule?”

           The angels shifted uncomfortably. Raphael didn't answer.

           “Because that was the whole reason Lucifer fell, right? Because he refused to love humans? He disobeyed that one order and got kicked to the curb. That was the last thing that God did before he left—he made a huge example out of the angel that might have followed every other order but couldn't do that.”

           “It's true,” an angel in a blonde vessel muttered. His wings were a deep silver, and he was wearing a strangely low cut shirt and no suit. “Luci was a rule-mongerer right up until then.”

           “Balthazar, be quiet,” Cas snapped.

           “Right, see?” Dean gestured to Balthazar. “The freaking Devil is remembered as a rule follower until the big one. Now you're telling me you want to punish my Cas because he broke every little rule to follow God's last damn directive? What kind of fucking sense does that make?” He wasn't laughing anymore; in fact, he was trying very hard to keep from crying. “Cas did everything for Sam and I, even after you fucking dicks tortured him for trying to warn us about being vessels!  He never put humanity second! And now humanity is safe—my brother fixed that for you—and Cas died trying to help him! And guess what, he's still breathing! What the hell does that say about God's stance on things?”

           Dean knew he'd gotten their attention. Many of the angels were nodding, their wings dropping into less aggressive poses. Even Raphael looked like he was listening intently.

           “I'm not saying you were wrong to fight to start the Apocalypse,” Dean continued, his voice hoarse. “I think you were, but orders are orders...believe me, I know what that's like. And I know that kind of training's hard to break. But my little brothers are in Hell right now with two pissed off archangels, and the world is whole. Seems to me like it's time for some reconsideration of what you did, and what you should do now.”

           “Your brother Sam died to save the world,” one angel piped up. He was tiny, standing next to Balthazar. “He took on Lucifer to protect humanity from the cost of sin.”

           Dean recognized that line. “Hold on. My brother's not Jesus. Sam wasn't Jesus, and he wasn't the Boy King, or Lucifer's Vessel or anything other than himself—a kid who wanted to be better than people expected him to be. And he was, every time.” His voice broke. “And Adam was a boy I barely knew, a brother I couldn't save, somebody innocent who got caught in the crossfire. They're family.” Dean looked Raphael straight in the eye. “So you can smite me if you want, but don't you dare stand there and forget your own family. These are your brothers and sisters, and your Dad might be gone for good. You've got to learn to be family, or you're all going to be dishonouring my brothers. And I won't let you do that, not as long as I'm breathing.”

           Raphael came closer, and Cas stood, gripping Dean's hand.

           Then Raphael held out his hand to Dean. “You speak well, Dean Winchester.”

           Numb with shock, Dean reached out hesitantly. Raphael had apparently learned to shake hands from an actual person, because his grip was firm but not painful.

           Raphael turned to Cas. “Your human is wise, Cas. Though I fear that he paints too simple a picture.”

           “It does not have to be complicated,” Cas whispered. “I still call Heaven family. It cut me deeply to hurt any of you, but I had to do what I knew to be right.”

           Raphael nodded. “Well, perhaps we can start with a simple question.” He turned to the Host. “Brothers, sisters, I ask you, do you feel we should do as Dean Winchester says? Should we begin anew, and remake our family?”

           There was a moment of silence, then Balthazar spoke. “I'm tired of the fighting,” he drawled in a posh British accent. “I'm alright with Cas coming home, and I think the idea that we stop trying to destroy the world in the name of paradise is as good as any other idea.”

           The other angels chimed in, their words swelling into a chant in a language Dean recognized as Enochian. His heart swelled; he didn't understand the words, but from the relief and joy on Cas' face he could tell it was something good.

           Raphael hesitantly put his hand on Cas' shoulder. “You are forgiven, Castiel.” There was a question in his voice.

           “And you are forgiven, Raphael,” Cas replied, putting his free hand on Raphael's. There was a gasp from the crowd—clearly that was a status thing—but Raphael didn't seem to mind. “You have been my brother for uncounted millennia. I am willing to put these years behind us. So long as you understand that I will not remain in Heaven permanently.”

           “Wait, what?” Dean asked.

           Cas looked at him with kind exasperation. “Dearest, I told you I would stay with you. One day I hope to see you believe that.”

           Raphael raised his eyebrows. “You surprise me, Castiel. I am not certain Father meant his command so...physically.”

           Dean could feel himself blushing fire red.

           Cas shrugged. “I believe that is, as Dean says, 'none of your damn business'.”

           Could holes open in the floor of Heaven? Dean wondered. And potentially swallow very embarrassed people?

           “If you do not wish to stay, what do you think we should do?” Raphael asked.

           “I think we should form a Council,” Cas replied. “You are...” pain crossed Cas' face, but he forged on. “You are the last of the archangels, but I don't believe you should lead alone. Free will is not meant to be held by only one, and the Host is too fractured to work effectively under one person anyways.”

           Raphael looked like he wanted to argue, but he gestured for Cas to continue.

           “Let us form a Council,” Cas said. “Have one angel represent each faction, and meet each human month to discuss what must be done, as equals. In the mean time angels may do as they wish, so long as they do not harm other angels or humans. We have spent too long preparing a war; now we should learn to create beauty in Heaven once more.”

           Raphael nodded. “I believe this is wise. It will be as you say, Castiel. Will we decide this now?”

           “I will take Dean back to Earth, and then we will talk.” Cas smiled at his brothers and sisters. “We will all talk.” He snapped his fingers, and he and Dean returned to Bobby's scrap yard. Cas pulled Dean into his arms and kissed him deeply. “You were wonderful,” he said when he finally pulled away. “I am proud of you.”

           Dean smiled weakly. “I was so damn scared.”

           “So was I.” Cas held him close. “You know, you called me yours.”

           “I did? Uh, yeah, I did. You okay with that?”

           “Of course. I am yours, you are mine. Isn't that how being in love works?”

           Dean leaned his forehead against Cas'. “I think so,” he whispered. “Let's go with that.”

           Somehow, amazingly, the Council idea had actually held on. Cas was one of the members, along with a bunch of angels Dean had tried to remember the names of—Naomi? Ezekiel for sure…(he wasn’t being a good boyfriend)—but there were so many he’d lost track. Heaven was peaceful for now, and Cas reported that the Council meetings were awkward but tended to go well. The nitpicking of some of the other angels drove Cas crazy, but Dean figured the more people were actually saying the better. He’d learned the hard way that mistakes and disagreements hidden behind ‘I’m fine’ and long silences were much harder to fix.  

           “What can I do to help, Dean?” Cas asked, his face buried in Dean's hair.

            Dean reached up, linked his arms around Cas' neck. “You're doing plenty just being with me, Cas. You know that, don't you?”

           “It doesn't heal everything.”

           “I don't think anything would heal me all the way, baby. Don't try the impossible.”

           They stayed like that for long minutes.

           “Do you still want to go today?” Cas asked.

           Dean nodded. “I talked to her last night. I know she's a bit worried, but she said we're both welcome if we want to come.”

           “And you want to?”

           “I want to spend today with as many of the people I love as I can,” Dean answered. “Bobby's busy with Rufus until tonight, so we can drive there for supper.”

          “We'd better get going then, so we can spend a full day.”

           Dean nodded, and Cas gently disentangled himself so he could sit across from Dean. “Let's eat, then, so we can go see your son.”

Chapter 7: All Around Us are Familiar Faces

          The motel was pretty close to Lisa's house, and only twenty minutes after showering and getting dressed, the Impala was pulling into the driveway.

           Ben was sitting on the front steps and leapt up when Dean got out of the car. “Dad!” He ran into Dean's waiting arms. “Mom said I can stay home from school today!”

           Dean mock glared at Lisa, who'd just opened the door. “Using me as an excuse for truancy now?”

           “I thought you'd have more fun visiting your son if your son was at home and not at school, where they're having fun learning algebra.”

           Dean shuddered. “Nope.” He pulled Ben close. “I'll save you, Ben.”

           Lisa shook her head. “Numbers are great, Dean. Aren't they, Cas?”

           “They are, although from Dean's explanations human schools do not teach them well.” Cas walked forward and hugged Lisa lightly. “You look lovely, Lisa.”

           “One of you has eyes,” Lisa teased. “Come on in, you two. It looks like rain.”

May 2010

           After the day Sam and Adam fell, there were a lot of new firsts for Dean. Some of them were awful—first week without Sam on Earth, first time he realized he didn't even know Adam's middle name, the first time someone in a bar asked him casually if he had any siblings and he burst into tears. Some of them were (God forgive him) good firsts—first kiss with Cas, first time, first hour spent cuddling (he still had no idea where the time went)… And then there were the 'functional' firsts—first case worked, first time he met an angel that didn't want to kill him (although now he kind of wanted to kill Balthazar)…

           Then there was the first time he went through the jacket he'd worn to Stull Cemetery, the one he hadn't touched in the three weeks since, and found his phone.

           There was one voicemail, and it was from Lisa. It was about two weeks old.

           “Hi, Dean? It's Lisa. So the world didn't end, and I'm really hoping that you're still alive to explain this to me, because I want to know what's going on. Call me when you get this, I don't care what time it is. Ben and I are thinking of you. Bye.”

           “What do I do?” Dean asked Cas. “I don't know if I can explain this to her. I still can't explain it to myself.”

           “I think you should do what you think is right,” Cas said carefully. “But I do think she has a right to know that you're alive, and to make her own decision about you. And I know you want to call her.”

           “You know that I don't have feelings for her, right?” Dean asked.

           Cas tilted his head. “I've always found that expression confusing. Of course you have feelings for her—you care for her and her child. Your feelings are no longer romantic, but your thoughts are still tinged with sentiment.”

           Dean rolled his eyes. “Literal angel,” he said fondly.

           “Ridiculous human,” Cas replied as he leaned his head against Dean's shoulder. “Call her.”

           So Dean did.

           The first few minutes were a torrent of “what happened—I can't explain—try—” and Dean trying to explain the Apocalypse over the phone to someone who didn't even know that angels existed. He tried to start as far back as possible, but even mentioning Sam was still difficult, and the story got convoluted.

           Finally Lisa stopped him. “Alright, I don't think we should really have this conversation over the phone. Can I see you?”

           Dean glanced at Cas, who was adorably trying to pretend that he wasn't eavesdropping. “I can be there in a couple of hours, Lisa.”

           “Alright. I'll see you then.”

           It would have taken seconds for Cas to snap them there, but Dean wanted some time to prepare. Lisa wasn't his girlfriend, and she'd never been his girlfriend. He'd tried to love her, reasoned that she was probably the closest thing to love he could have, but that was long before Cas. Even though he'd fought it, once the angel had walked into his life there really hadn't been anyone else. No one could have mattered as much.

He couldn't put all his misery on Lisa. She had her own life with Ben, and he wasn't anything to her but a boy who could have been the father of her child but missed it by a few days. He couldn't break down on her.

           So of course, when Cas snapped him there (with the Impala, bless his thoughtful little angel heart) and Lisa opened the door, Dean lost it.

           Lisa was wonderful, because she always was. She drew him into the living room and let him weep on her shoulder and choke out why his life had come apart even though the world was saved. She let him cry it out, and Dean realized he'd never loved her more, because there was absolutely nothing pushy about her comfort. She was strong, and he was weak, and somehow that was okay.

           When Dean finally managed to pull himself together again, he leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. Lisa had her hand on his shoulder. “Dean, I'm so sorry.”

           “Not your fault.” A stupid, reflex response he always gave.

           “I'm still sorry. You didn't deserve this, and neither did your brothers. But they're heroes Dean, and so are you. Maybe someday you'll be able to take comfort in that.”

           “That day's a long day coming,” Dean muttered. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I'm sorry for that, I really am.”

           “Don't be. I think you needed that.” There was a beat of silence. “What's her name?”

           “What?”

           Lisa smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Dean, you barely let me hold you. You're a pretty touchy guy. Certainly always were with me. You're in love with someone, aren't you? What's her name?”

           “It's a him, actually,” Dean said. Then he frowned. “Well, his vessel's male, at least. I don't think angels really have he/she, you know? But I guess I see him as a dude, so...yeah.” Lisa had her hand over her mouth, and Dean blushed when he realized he was babbling. “His name's Cas. Castiel.”

           “The angel who saved you from Hell?” Lisa laughed quietly. “Sorry, sorry, it's just so...romantic. Not quite what I'd expected from you.”

           “No need to apologize, I didn't expect it from me either.”

           Lisa looked down at her hands, the laughter gone from her face. “Actually, there is something I have to apologize for. Something big.”

           Dean raised his eyebrows. “What?”

           “You remember when you first met Ben, and there were those changelings?”

           “Yeah, of course.”

           “I lied to you,” Lisa said simply. “I lied to you twice then, and I'm so sorry.”

           Dean felt a strange swoop in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

           “Ben's your son.”

           Dean couldn't speak.

           “At least, he could be. You're just as likely as the other guy.” Lisa continued, her hands running agitatedly through her hair. “I was just...I had great memories of you, Dean, and I was stupid, and scared, and I didn't want you to turn out to be some guy who would find out about his kid and just run, so I told you he wasn't yours to see how you’d react. And then you looked so sad, but there was something...something dangerous about you, and then I found out what you did, and I thought well, maybe it was for the best that you weren't going to be involved that way. I swear, though, if I'd known you were going—going to Hell, I would have told you, because you deserved to know and I was wrong.”

           Dean smiled. It wasn't the first smile since Stull, but it was the first time he'd smiled about someone other than Cas.

           “Ben's my kid?”

           “I’m pretty sure, yes.” Lisa stared at him. “You're not...mad?”

           “Hell no.” Dean stood up. “Are you kidding? That's...that's awesome, Lisa. He's a great kid, and I... man, I wanted him to be my kid. Not that you had nothing to do with it—hell, you raised him and of course he's more like you than me, but....”

           Lisa laughed, standing with him. “He reminds me of you every day, seriously. In a lot of great ways.”

           Dean hugged her impulsively, holding her tight. “You know, I still care about you. A lot. But...”

           “We weren't meant to be,” Lisa finished for him, stepping out of the hug. “It's okay, Dean. But we've got a kid together, and I know he wants a dad. Or at least he wants someone else to ask permission for things. Oh yeah—he's not allowed to watch ‘Predator’, don't let him do it.”

           “Promise.” Dean smiled. “Where—where is he? Can I go talk to him?”

           “He's upstairs with headphones in. At least he better be.” Lisa made shooing motions with her hands. “Go on.”

           Dean walked towards the stairs, then stopped. “Wait, there's someone I want you to meet. Cas, can you come here? I'm at Lisa's house.”

           Cas appeared out of nowhere, the flutter of wings startling Lisa. “Hello Lisa. My name is Castiel.”

           Lisa shook her head, an awed smile on her face. “Hi Cas, nice to meet you. Dean's a lucky man.”

           Cas tilted his head, but Dean couldn't wait anymore. He made it to Ben's door and paused, about to knock.

           I'm about to change this kid's world. He's going to become a part of mine. Can I do this right now?

           John Winchester didn't. He left Adam with his mother, came only for ball games. Left his son without a real dad. Left him ignorant and defenseless against the monsters that pursued his bloodline.

           Dean squared his shoulders. He knocked on Ben's door, then pushed it open.

Ben, taller now at eleven, was sprawled on his bed. Dean could just make out the sounds of a girl singing about teardrops and a guitar before Ben yanked out his headphones. “Dean?!” he said happily.

           Dean went over and sat next to Ben. “Hey buddy,” he said. “How are you?”

           “Good. Mom's been worried about you, are you okay?”

           Dean swallowed hard. “I'm...I'll be alright. Hey Ben, I've got to tell you something.”

           “Yeah?”

           “I'm your dad.” Ben didn't respond for a second. “Your Mom didn't tell me until now, and I'm sorry I didn't know, and that I wasn't there, but I promise I'll be there if you—”

           Ben tackled him in a hug, arms wrapped around him tightly for such a scrawny kid. Dean cautiously returned the embrace, memories of Sam being this small filling his memory. But Ben had Lisa's eyes and short, dark hair and he wasn't Sam, he was Ben, his son. Maybe that's why the memories didn't hurt.

           “I hoped it was you,” Ben said, his voice muffled by his shoulder. “Are you gonna stay with us? And be with Mom?”

           Dean held him tight. “Ben, I swear I will be here as often as I can. But I can't stay for good. I'm in love with someone else, and your Mom and I are the kind of people that go together great for a little while but won't make it long no matter how hard we try. But I'm your Dad, and I...and I love you, and I'll always be there when you need me, whether I'm here or just on the phone complaining about school. Okay?”

           “Okay.” Ben drew back. “Can I meet her?”

           “Who?”

           “My step-mom.”

           “Oh, uh...it's actually...he'd be your step-dad, I guess.”

           “Cool, what's his name?”

           “You're okay with that?”

           “Why not?”

           Dean smiled. He got up, pulling Ben to his feet with him. “Why don't you come and meet him?” he suggested. “Then we can explain more.”

           As Lisa and Cas started making tea, Ben pulled out the puzzle roll and carefully unrolled it on the dining room table.

           Dean had never seen himself as much of a puzzle person—the few board games he'd ever played had always ended with someone flipping the table (most often himself, but Bobby almost broke a motel table when Sam bought Boardwalk right from under him). Ben, on the other hand, loved puzzles, and Dean found it surprisingly soothing to place piece after piece in the right spot. They were working on their tenth puzzle, one with a thousand pieces. It was three weeks in the making—a forest scene with several woodland creatures that Dean was pretty sure should be eating each other. But he didn't bring that up.

           Ben was quiet today, putting his corner together carefully. He usually kept up a steady stream of the weekly news for the first little while, then Dean would tell him about the latest hunt, then they'd move on to whatever topic came up. Something was clearly off.

           “Something on your mind, buddy?”

           Ben looked up. “You didn't have to come today, Dad. I know it's a bad day.”

           Dean dropped the piece he was holding. He glanced into the kitchen. Lisa and Cas had a 'book club' of sorts going (didn't you need more than two people to have a club?) and they were both engrossed in a study of Gone With the Wind, but he saw Cas' shoulders tense.

           “It isn't a good day, today,” Dean said carefully, “but I was late getting here last week and I wanted to see you.”

           Ben's eyes were nervous. “Do you want to talk about them?”

           “About—” the words stuck in Dean's throat.

           “About Uncle Sam and Uncle Adam,” Ben clarified. “I mean, you don't have to, I just...I remember Uncle Sam a bit, but I never knew Uncle Adam. And... would it make you feel better?”

           Dean raised his eyebrows. “Were you looking this up on the Internet?”

           Ben blushed. “I just wanted to be able to help, Dad.”

           Dean put his hand on Ben's shoulder. “You know it's not your job to make me feel better, right? I'm the Dad here, my job is to take care of you.”

           “I know. But I want to help you if I can.”

           Dean squeezed his shoulder. “Okay.” He gathered his thoughts, sliding another piece into place. “I guess I can tell you some stories.”

           It was hard, at first—in the year he'd been visiting Ben he'd talked about his brothers all of three times, and never in detail. Dean stumbled over his words, but as he kept putting the puzzle pieces in place, he found a rhythm. Sam as a young kid, Sam as a teenager, Sam as a hunter, Sam as a brother. Adam—the story of finding him, finding him dead, then finding him alive. Losing him again.

           “I hate that that's pretty much all I can tell you about him,” Dean admitted hoarsely. Sometime when they were talking Cas had slipped in with coffee for him and milk for Ben. Ben had a milk mustache as he listened intently. “I can't forgive my father for that, we should have at least known he existed. Hell, I don't even know what his favourite colour was.”

           Ben fidgeted with his glass. “But he's still your brother.”

           “Yes he is,” Dean said firmly. “From the time I knew him—the real him, not the ghoul, he was an interesting guy. One who was brave enough to stand up to people as long as he could, but...it wasn't enough to save him. Neither was I.”

           “Maybe no one could have saved him,” Ben said quietly. “Maybe it was just something horrible that happened. Things work that way sometimes.”

           “Yeah, kid, I know.” Dean smiled at him slightly. “Good things happen that way too.” Shaking his head, he reached into his wallet. “Do you want to see pictures of them?”

           Ben nodded, and Dean passed over two pictures. One was of him and Sam, taken by Bobby a few days before Carthage. The other was a picture of Adam.

           “After we killed the ghouls I found this in his mother's room,” Dean said quietly. “I kept it—maybe I shouldn't have, but it was no good to her anymore, and I wanted to remember him.”

           Ben stared at the pictures. “These are my uncles,” he said quietly, almost reverently. He looked up at Dean. “Do you think someday I can be as brave as all of you?”

           Dean's heart swelled. “I hope to God you never have to be that brave,” he said, “but I'm sure you can be, Ben. Being brave's a test more than something you just know.”

           “I'm no good at tests.”

           Dean laughed. “We'll see, kid. We'll see.”

Chapter 8: Shaking Things Up 

           At lunch time they sat around the table, eating burgers and drinking lemonade. For a minute Dean did as Cas had suggested and relaxed, letting himself enjoy sitting with his lover, his son and the mother of his child who'd somehow become one of his closest friends. It was a good feeling, but though he knew he was being a little ungrateful, he couldn't help but make a quiet wish that Sam and Adam could be with them.

           Five minutes later, the table shook.

           “What the hell?” Lisa leapt up.

           Cas turned to the window, and Dean copied him just in time to see a bright light streak...up? He couldn't tell how close it was, but he was pretty sure lightning came from the clouds, not the other way around.

           “Cas?”

           Cas was looking intently to the south, but the flash didn't repeat itself.

           “Was that an angel?” Dean asked. The light reminded him of the flash of a smiting, but something seemed off.

           Cas shook his head. “That energy was...odd. I've never seen it before.”

           “Are we in trouble here?”

           “I don't think so, but—”

           Cas was cut off a by a flutter of wings, and Balthazar appeared on top of the kitchen table. Ben leapt out of his chair, plastering himself to Dean's side.

           Balthazar looked completely unconcerned. “Cassie! And Dean, how lovely.” He leapt down. “So that wasn't you, then?”

           “Why would you think it's us?”

           “Because, gorilla, whenever something happens that Heaven finds odd, they think either 'Balthazar', 'Castiel' or 'Winchester'. I was just speaking to Raphael, so they knew it wasn't me, so I've been sent to investigate.” Balthazar shrugged. “Suppose it wasn't you either, then? Odd.” He turned and smiled at Lisa. “Now who's this gorgeous lady?”

           “This is Lisa Braeden,” Cas said, with an apologetic look at Lisa. “She is the mother of Dean's child, Ben.”

           Balthazar made a low bow. “Well, good to meet you, Lisa Braeden.” Balthazar turned. “That makes you Benjamin.”

           Dean tightened his grip on Ben, struck by a horrible thought. “Did the angels...did you know?”

           Balthazar shrugged. “I mean we knew, but he was far too young to be used as an alternate. Even Michael stopped short of using a child to fight.”

           That meant…

           A deep, warm relief flooded him, even with everything that was going on. Ben was his son.

           It felt hypocritical—family didn’t end in blood, Dean knew that, lived it, breathed it. He loved Ben with a fierceness he could hardly bear, and he’d never been sure, never been positive. But now, now that he knew that this amazing child was really his, the last bits of the mantle of unworthiness and self-hatred that Cas had been trying so hard to shred finally unravelled. He’d created someone good, even when he’d been young, headstrong and full of hate and shame.

           Lisa had her hands over her mouth.

           “What should we do?” Cas intervened. “About this strange light.”

           “I don't think there's anything we have to do, Cassie.” Balthazar hopped off the table. “I'm sure Raphael has this in hand, and even if she doesn't I'm not all that interested.” He smirked at Lisa. “I'm more interested in chatting with you.”

           To Dean's shock and dawning horror, Lisa gave the angel a once-over. “Maybe some other time,” was all she said. “Dean and Cas only have until supper time, and I'd like to spend some time with them.”

           Balthazar didn't look at all disappointed. “Of course. Rain check, then?” His smile faded as he met Cas' eyes. “I'll go to Heaven, Cas. See what's going on. Should I drop in on you later?”

           “We will be at Bobby Singer's home in Sioux Falls tonight,” Cas answered. “Come by if you've learned anything...is that alright, Dean?”

           Dean nodded, although he wasn't sure that was a great idea. Balthazar might be a decent drinking buddy, and no one could deny that he was a good brother to Cas, but he wasn't sure if he wanted the angel's company tonight.

           “I'll only come if it's very important,” Balthazar promised, his tone turning more serious. “As I told Cassie this morning, Dean, I am sorry about today. It is difficult to lose your brothers.”

           The generally snarky angel's change of tone had Dean blinking hard. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “And you know you're welcome, Balthazar...but Bobby's gonna stab you if you mess with his fridge again.”

           “I was only looking.” Balthazar snapped his fingers and disappeared.

           “Well,” Lisa said. “That was...interesting.”

           “I like him,” Ben spoke up, startling Dean. “He sounds fun.”

           “He's not bad for an angel,” Dean agreed.

           “Oh, well I suppose that's a high compliment,” Cas muttered.

           Dean flushed. “Cas...you know I don't...I didn't...”

           Cas laughed, clearly not insulted at all. “Let's resume our meal, shall we?”

           The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. Dean and Ben made a good amount of progress on their puzzle; it was really only the top corner that was giving them trouble, and Cas and Lisa got into a deep discussion about whether or not to read the fan-written sequel to Gone With the Wind for their next book.

Finally Lisa stood up.

           “You two should get going,” she announced. “You'll want to get to Bobby's on time.”

           Dean shared a look with Ben. “I can stay if you want, son.”

           Ben bowed his head. “It's okay, Dad. I want you to find out what the light was too.”

           “Balthazar can wing his ass down here too,” Dean tried, but Ben shook his head.

           “It’s okay. We had a big day. I'm fine, Dad, really.”

           Dean's heart swelled; he knew Ben was telling the truth, he was a terrible liar. How'd he ever earn a son like him?

           “I'll come and see you next week,” he promised.

           “I know you will. Say hi to Grampy for me.”

           After giving both Lisa and Ben hugs goodbye and promising to call the instant they had news, Dean and Cas got into the Impala. They could of course snap themselves to Sioux Falls, but Dean wanted to drive, needed to drive at least for a little while.

           When they got to Bobby's just after nine, the old hunter was waiting for them on the porch. His eyes were tired and Dean could tell he'd been drinking. Clearly his day with Rufus hadn't done as much to soothe Bobby's grief as he'd hoped.

           Bobby didn't speak, just pulled Dean into his arms and held him for a long minute. Dean closed his eyes, the full weight of the day sinking down on his shoulders again. “Hey Bobby.”

           “Hey son.”

           Finally Bobby released him and pulled Cas into a tight hug. “Come on in, idjits,” he said at last, wiping his eyes.

           The house was dim, a few candles the only light. Dean was grateful; sometimes being at Bobby's during the day was too painful—too easy to see Sam standing by the bookshelves, Adam sitting by the window.

           Bobby handed them both a beer and the three sank into chairs.

           Dean raised his beer. “Sam and Adam.”

           “Sam and Adam,” Bobby and Cas repeated, the three of them drinking in one swift motion.

           Dean sipped his beer for a while, the alcohol strange after a year of being nearly dry. It hadn't been entirely up to him—one of the first big fights he and Cas had as a couple had to do with his drinking problem—but Dean was grateful for it now. It might take fewer beers to drink himself into oblivion than before.

           There was a snap, a flutter of wings, and Balthazar appeared. “Hello, lads.”

           Bobby, who'd started to doze, woke and scowled at the angel. “The hell are you doing here?” he snapped. “Come to show me how to cook again? The wrong way?”

           Cas looked up. “Did you not see the flash today?”

           “The—oh, the light? Rufus thought it was some kind of lightning storm.”

           “You weren't as close to the blast site,” Balthazar explained. He turned to Cas. “Raphael has told us a little about what happened.”

           Cas' brow furrowed. “Us being?”

           “Our faction, idiot. Raphael didn't want to disturb you, so she just told all of us at once. She told the other eight as well.”

           Dean frowned. “Hang on, aren't there like...twenty factions?”

           “There were nineteen to begin with,” Cas corrected, “but a few have joined together since. We now number fourteen...or we did.”

           “Well, there are nine now,” Balthazar replied, and he looked uneasy. “It's too quick a change to be random, but then again what do I know?”

           “We will speak of this later,” Cas determined. “What was the light caused by, Balthazar?”

           “Raphael's not sure about that part,” Balthazar said carefully, “but the light caused a small earthquake. And guess what it uncovered?”

           “What?” Dean snapped.

           Balthazar's eyes were strangely solemn. “The Word of God.”

           Cas drew in a deep breath.

           “Wait, that's...it's a physical thing?” Dean spluttered.

           “There's all kinds of stories about it,” Bobby said, getting up to start pacing. “The tablets written by the Scribe, said to come from conversations with God himself. Apparently Raphael's party found them in Kansas.”

           “And what will we do with them, then?” Cas asked. His eyes looked strange to Dean, narrowed and confused. “We have no prophet.”

           “Exactly.”

           “What about Chuck?” Dean asked in surprise.

           “I believe he is dead,” Cas said quietly. “His name is now hallowed in the records of the prophets; he is no longer among their number.”

           Dean was surprised by how upset that made him.

           “What about the next guy, then?”

           “There aren't any more prophets, galago,” Balthazar jumped back in. “We're kind of post-apocalyptic here, you see. There wasn't going to be any more need for prophets. Charles Shurley was the last we knew of.”

           “We may be able to trace the prophet family trees,” Cas said. “It does run within lines; we could go back further and look—”

           “Or not,” Balthazar replied. He straightened his back. “Balthazar, inform Castiel that  you are not to engage with this issue in the slightest. It is in the hands of another faction.” His voice was suddenly high and bitchy.

           Cas groaned and sank back in his seat. “Naomi.”

           “Raphael gave her the tablets,” Balthazar confirmed. “She's working on them right now, and she definitely doesn't want your help.”

           “Not this chick's biggest fan?” Dean asked Cas.

           Cas didn't laugh. “I am uneasy around her. She was once my superior, prior to the establishment of the Council, and there was always something...” he shook his head. “I will stay out of it for now, but I will address it at the next Council.”

           “Good. I might even come if you do,” Balthazar said. He smirked at Bobby. “Won't keep you all, I've got other places to be.” He disappeared.

           Bobby leaned back. “The Word of God. Feels like that might have come in handy a little sooner, don't you think?”

           Cas didn't say anything. Dean reached over and took his hand. “Babe, you okay?”

           Cas shook his head. “I am troubled about Heaven, Dean. I believe the state of affairs may be a bit more serious than Balthazar is letting on.”

           “You can go see, if you want.” Don't go tonight. Please.

           “I will stay here,” Cas replied as if he'd heard Dean's silent plea. Which he probably had, come to think of it. “But I will have to return to Heaven for an extended period soon.”

           “Sure,” Dean said with an attempt at a smile.

           An uneasy silence descended, broken only by the first splatters of rain on the window.

           Dean was about to suggest they get into something a bit stronger than beer when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket. He was about to answer when the Caller ID caught his eye.

           “Fuck off Crowley,” he muttered.

           Cas raised his eyebrows. “Why is he calling?”

           “No idea.” Dean debated not answering but he knew if he didn't, Crowley would just keep calling back. With a sigh, he hit talk.

           “What is it, Crowley?”

           Crowley's response hit him like a physical blow, making him slump back in his chair, curling into himself. Cas and Bobby were beside him in an instant, their eyes worried.

           Dean finally managed to reply. “Crowley, if you're lying...”

           “I'm not a complete buffoon, Dean, I wouldn't lie about this.” The demon actually sounded injured. “Your brothers are in my court. They've escaped from the Cage.”

Chapter Nine:  An Appointment With....Not Death, Just the King of Hell

          Sam's legs nearly gave way as the demons led them to the tall brick building. Only the steady pressure of the demon's hand under his arm kept him from slipping.

           His mind, on the other hand, was racing so quickly he couldn't keep up. Who was the King of Hell now? What was about to happen? Why were the demons glad to see them away from the torture of the Cage?

           It all felt so strange, but Sam was too tired to protest. He glanced over at Adam, who was stumbling just behind the other demon. His eyes were glassy in his too-thin, too-pale face; he'd reached the end of his rope.

           When they got to the door Sam braced himself. Whoever was King of the place would enjoy torture, and Sam wasn't sure he could stand watching anyone in pain right then.

           To his utter shock the door swung open to reveal a...line up?

           Dim, soft Muzak played along an endless looking hallway as thousands of people stood in line. Some looked stiff with anger, others were slumped with boredom. But no one was screaming. No one was in pain.

           “The King's idea,” the demon supporting Sam explained. “No one likes waiting in line.”

           Sam couldn't really process that, but he didn't have to. The demons drew them to the side and through an old-fashioned metal door. “Go on in, then,” the first demon said. “He'll deal with you.” Both demons started to leave, but Adam called after them.

           “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

           Both demons looked surprised; the first one laughed. “You're polite for a Winchester, boy,” she said with a grin. “Good luck.”

           This room looked a bit more like Sam's expectations of Hell. The walls were brick, the floor concrete; dim torch light flickered along the walls with ugly fluorescent lights plastered on the ceiling. A throne stood at the far end of the mostly empty room.

           Crowley was sitting on it, human vessel intact, an expression of genuine shock on his face. “So it's true,” he whispered.  

           Sam started to shake again. He tried to put himself in front of Adam, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. “Don't,” he gasped.

           Crowley frowned. He rose from his throne, his hands in the same defensive position as the other demon. “Relax, Sam. I'm not going to hurt you.”

           “Don't—don't let out the Leviathans, don't open Purgatory, you can't—” Sam's head was swimming. Yes, the other world had been a dream, but wouldn't Lucifer have known Crowley better than anyone? “Leave Kevin alone, don't you fucking touch Lisa and Ben—you can't do this, you won't have control—”

           Adam was gripping his arm now, nails digging into burnt flesh. The pain made Sam focus, and he stared at Crowley, breathing heavily.

           “I have literally no idea what you're talking about,” Crowley answered. There was genuine confusion in the demon's tone, and Sam almost believed—wanted to believe—that it was real. He'd never liked Crowley, but if the real Crowley didn't want to unleash Dick Roman and the rest of the Leviathans that was fine by Sam.

           “Um...your Majesty?” Adam's voice was tiny and hoarse. “My brother's been through some really nasty episodes lately. Lucifer forced him to live an alternate timeline. I guess you fucked up in it?”

           “Seems so. Why on Earth would I open Purgatory? Hell's bad enough as it is.” Crowley took a step towards them. “How did you get out, Sam?”

           “Cut a hole. Big enough for us, not them. Through the real wall.” Each word felt dragged from him now, the effort draining.

           Crowley glanced at Adam. “You're sure they didn't follow you?”

           Adam nodded. “They wouldn't have let us get this far.” A shudder ran through him. “Especially Michael.”

           That was weird—Adam didn't have a lot of reason to be scared of Michael—or did he?—Sam didn't know anymore—but he didn't question it. Adam was right.

           Crowley seemed to accept this. He took another cautious step, and Sam let him move without reacting.

           Then Crowley reached into his pocket.

           “Hey!”

           “I'm just getting my phone out,” Crowley promised. His tone was weird—oddly soothing for someone who'd always treated him with varying amounts of dislike and contempt—but he was bright, bright where the dream world had been dark. Sam still couldn't explain to himself what bright meant, but Crowley was bright, so he had to be real. This was still real.

           “I'm going to call your brother,” Crowley explained. “He or his angel can come and fetch you.”

           “You'll let us go?” Adam's voice broke.        

           Crowley attempted a kindly smile. It was passable. “Of course. You're not my prisoners, and quite frankly I don't want Dean Winchester up my arse any further than usual.”

           Dean. Cas. One of them was coming, and they were going to be taken back. Home.

           Sam wasn't entirely shocked to feel tears rushing down his face.

           “Relax, Moose,” Crowley said worriedly. He dialled a number—Dean's 'other other' number, even over a hundred years later Sam still remembered—and put the phone to his ear. “Just hold on, help is on the way.”

           Sam's attention drifted for a second. He felt himself sinking to the floor, Adam curling up beside him without a second thought. He probably should be listening to this conversation, he thought idly, but really it didn't matter. Someone was coming for them. They were going home, for real.

           A flutter of wings a few minutes later had Sam sinking into a protective crouch over Adam. He saw a second pair of shoes join Crowley's—well-worn, comfortable looking black shoes.

           Sam looked up just as Cas knelt in front of them a few feet away.

           “Cas?” he gasped. “Is it really you?” But of course it was really Cas, the same reality-brightness was in him, and Sam finally pinned it down, it was in his eyes, a spark that Lucifer had forgotten to give his puppets. Bright blue, friendly, home eyes filled with tears as they looked at him, and Cas reached out cautiously.

           “Sam. It's me. You're safe.”

           Sam surged forward, clinging to the angel. He could sense the pulses of Grace under human skin as Cas cradled him carefully, but it didn't frighten him. This wasn't power used to torment and punish him; it was used to protect him, stand by him, care for him.

           “Thought you were gone, Cas.” It had been possible to say Crowley's other life out loud; it hadn't hurt as much. But the idea of Cas doing what the other Cas had done...Sam shuddered. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t have been true. It was over.

           “It's alright, Sam. I'm here. I'm going to take you and Adam home.”

           Sam looked over. Adam was staring at Cas, burns covering his body, cuts peeking out from under his shirt sleeves. Sam winced. He hadn't done a very good job of protecting his little brother.

           Slowly, carefully, Cas released Sam, guided him into a sitting position. He approached Adam, still in a crouch. “Do you remember me, Adam Milligan?”

           Adam nodded. “Cas—I mean, Castiel.”

           Cas smiled, but Sam could still see tears in his eyes. “I am Cas to my family, Adam. You can always address me as such.”

           Adam cracked a smile. Sam watched his little brother sag into the angel, nestling against his chest. Cas looked worried, confused, but he patted Adam's head. “You have both been through an incredible ordeal,” he said softly. “I will bring you home.”

           “You can't like this,” Crowley put in. Sam's head snapped up; the demon had resumed his throne. “They're too injured. They won't survive the flight.”

           “Of course I will heal them first.” Cas closed his eyes, rocking slightly back and forth as he held Adam. “Although...”

           Sam reached out. “It's okay, Cas. You're not them.”

           Cas met Sam's eyes, and Sam thought he saw pride there. Cas took one hand and placed it gently on Sam's forehead. The sensation of Grace strengthened, and Sam could have traced the pattern it took through his body, seeking out each individual burn or cut and soothing it away into nothingness.

           For the first time since Stull Cemetery, Sam felt no pain.

           He raised trembling hands, noting absentmindedly how spindly his fingers looked. His arms were like sticks, his body skeletal.

           Cas followed his gaze. “You will get better,” he promised firmly. He placed his hand on Adam's head, healing him too. Adam stared up at Cas, clearly awestruck. Adam had never known the mercy of angels, Sam thought with a pang.

           With effortless strength, Cas raised Adam to his feet, letting the young man swoon against him. He extended a hand to Sam, who took it and rose to his feet, getting as close to Cas as he could manage.      

           “The passage remains open?” Cas asked Crowley.

           “Yes. Go on, now.” There was concern in the demon's face. “I want them out of my kingdom.”

           “We're going,” Cas said a bit curtly—he and Crowley could never team up, Sam though with hazy happiness.

           Then there was a flutter of wings, a rush of intense bright light, a feeling of rising so quickly they'd surely reached Heaven...

           Then the three of them stood on Bobby's front porch.

Chapter Ten: All Together 

           Dean paced the length of the house five times before Bobby told him to stand still or get shot.

           “Damn it, Bobby, how am I supposed to be calm right now?!”

           The older man sighed. “Dean, I ain’t saying be calm. Just be still. You’ll wear yourself out.”

           “I should have gone with Cas,” Dean muttered.

           “No you shouldn’t have, because…” Bobby took him by the shoulders. “You don’t know what condition Sam and Adam are in.”

           “Crowley said they were walking! I can deal with that!”

           “Dean,” Bobby said, more seriously than Dean had ever heard him speak. “You know that’s not all that might be wrong.”

           Dean knew. Crowley had been evasive, said only that Sam and Adam seemed ‘mostly lucid’, but the demon had sounded too wary to be telling the whole truth.

           “They’re my brothers,” he whispered. “I should be strong enough to go rescue them.”

           “Or be strong enough to send the best person for the job,” Bobby retorted. “Cas can heal ’em, get them sorted…he got you back, didn’t he?”

           “He put me in a coffin six feet under!”

           “Didn’t he already apologize for that? He won’t do that with your brothers, Dean.”

           Dean stepped away from Bobby. “I’m just…hell, Bobby, I’m scared.”

           “I know, son. But this is amazing news, alright? Your brothers are alive, and they’ll be here soon, and they’re going to need all of us. We’ve gotta be calm.”

           Dean nodded, biting his lip. “You’re right, Bobby.”

           “Course I am, idjit.”

           That made Dean laugh.

           The rain was still coming down outside, but it was tapering off, quiet enough that Dean clearly heard a flutter of wings and three sets of feet hitting the front porch.

           Dean’s breath caught in his throat, suddenly terrified to open the door. What would he see? Were Sam and Adam angry that he couldn’t save them?

           Bobby shoved passed him and yanked the door open.

            Cas came in, supporting Sam and Adam, arms wrapped protectively around them.

           Dean stared for a few pounding heartbeats, taking in his brothers: skin thinly stretched over bones, both clinging to Cas for support, eyes haunted by horrors even Dean could never imagine.

           Then Sam sobbed Bobby’s name and made a grab for the old hunter. Adam stayed with Cas, watching Sam, a desperate longing in his eyes. As if he thought he didn’t belong, didn’t deserve that.

           Something clicked in Dean, then, something that had come into place immediately with Sam long before he’d ever been conscious of it. Adam was his little brother, and it didn’t matter that he didn’t know Adam’s favourite colour or middle name, he was brother and family and they could learn those details later.

           Gently, carefully—God, he knew how scary it could be when people moved towards you, because movement meant pain so often—he stepped close and wrapped Adam in a hug. The boy was pitifully light in his arms. Dean could feel every single one of his ribs, felt Adam’s lungs expand as he drew in gasping breaths. “Dean.”

           “Hey, little brother,” Dean whispered, choking on a sob. He bent his head and buried his face in Adam’s hair. “It’s alright, kiddo, you’re home. You’re safe, I swear. You did it.”

           Adam slumped against him, shoulders shaking as he wept.

           Sam was delirious with relief as he clutched Bobby. “You’re not dead,” he whispered, the vision of Bobby lying still in a hospital bed fading as he buried his face in Bobby’s shoulder. “You’re not dead…”

           “No son, I’m not.” Bobby’s voice was strong and sure and full of tears as he patted Sam’s back. “I’m right here, boy.” Sam felt a rough kiss against the top of his head. “Thank…thank everything you’re here.”

           Sam could have stayed like that for years, but there was someone else he’d missed just as fiercely. Unwillingly, he pulled away from Bobby, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face, and turned to see Dean, still holding Adam close and speaking softly. Their eyes met, and Sam swayed with relief. Dean was here. Bobby was here. Cas was here. Adam was here.

           Somehow he was in the same place with his whole family.

           Lucifer would never have allowed that, not even in a hallucination.

           It was real, and bright.

           Dean gently disengaged from Adam and held him out to Bobby, who hugged him close.

           Sam stood, helpless suddenly, unable to move or even think.

           Dean strode forward and hugged him fiercely, tightly, stronger than when he’d been the one returning from Hell. “Heya Sammy,” he whispered.

           “Dean.” It was all Sam could manage as he hugged back as tightly as he could. Even though he hadn’t lost any height in the Cage, he felt smaller than Dean, tiny in his brother’s strong embrace. He hadn’t felt this secure, this protected, in lifetimes. “Dean, De…”

           Dean pulled back just enough to cradle Sam’s face in his hands. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, almost sternly. “You’re home, and you’re safe, and we’re going to figure this out, okay buddy? You’re going to be just fine.” He kissed Sam’s forehead then pulled him in again, rocking slightly. “Shh, I’m here.”

           Adam was surprised by the love in Dean’s hug, how the older brother he’d barely known held him like he was something precious, like he was someone that belonged and mattered. He’d thought that once they were out of the Cage Sam would still protect him, of course, but the reunion would be with Sam’s family. They weren’t Adam’s; after all, he’d sold them out, betrayed them by saying yes. Michael had explained it carefully. But now Dean was acting like none of it mattered, and like Adam was really his brother, just like Sam. Adam wanted desperately to believe it, and so he soaked in the affection, curling close in Dean’s protective embrace.

           Then Dean let him go, gently, of course, and Adam thought that was it. Of course Dean was trying to be welcoming, but he wasn’t family.

           That was why he was completely floored when Bobby took him in his arms.

           Sam had told him dozens of stories about Bobby, how kind he was and how he was any hunter’s father if they asked—and many times when they didn’t—but they hadn’t prepared Adam for the easy way Bobby held him. How the hug was empty of awkwardness and full of reassurance. Why he suddenly felt safe.

           “It’s good to see you, boy,” Bobby whispered. “I know you don’t know me well, but I swear to you that you are safe, now, and I ain’t ever going to let anything hurt you again.”

           Adam leaned against Bobby carefully, then, when Bobby let him do that, buried his face in his shoulder and breathed in the smell of dirt and old books and booze and something else, something comforting and real.

           That was the first time Adam Milligan really felt like he was home. And maybe, just maybe, they’d let him stay.

           Cas watched with wet eyes as Sam and Adam were welcomed home. He watched as Dean and Bobby held each brother in turn, shaking because they couldn’t believe what was happening. Cas could hardly believe it was true. But it was, and the family that had been shattered by the Apocalypse—made to suffer unbelievably by Heaven and Hell alike—were still family, still bound by love.

           But Cas was worried, because Sam was mumbling nonsense about Leviathans into Dean’s shoulder and Adam was clinging to Bobby like a child. There were clearly deep wounds here, and the sooner they began to rest, the better.

           Cas waved his hand—Gabriel had taught him a little bit about creation magic before he left, and he still remembered the basics. Enough to create a large, comfortable bed in the hall. Dean, ever sensitive to his Grace, looked over and understood.

           “Come on, Sammy,” he said soothingly. “Let’s get you and Adam into bed, okay? You can lie down and sleep, Cas won’t let you have any bad dreams, it’ll be great.”

           Dean and Bobby helped Sam and Adam get into bed. Both let out sighs of relief at the softness of the mattress, and Cas blinked away tears. Adam immediately curled up against Sam, wrapping his arms around him and nestling into his chest, and Sam held the boy with one arm while he reached out to Dean with the other.  “Please, De? I don’t know if I’ll believe it, if?”

           “Shh,” Dean replied. He laid down behind Sam, holding him close, his arms just long enough to hold on to Adam’s hands as well. Dean inclined his head to Cas, and Cas laid down next to Adam, reaching out arms and wings to hold all three brothers.

           “We’re here,” Cas whispered, shushing Adam as the boy yawned. “Go to sleep.”

           Adam and Sam did so almost immediately, Dean following only a few minutes later.

           Cas looked up at Bobby. The old hunter had tears in his eyes as he looked down on his three—maybe, Cas dared to think, four—surrogate sons.

           “I’ll go sleep in the living room,” Bobby whispered. The bed he’d made up when he was still wheelchair-bound was still tucked behind the sofa. Careful not to disturb the sleepers, Cas waved his hand and the bed made itself up, softer than usual, because Bobby was probably sore from two days of no sleep and vigorous hunting with Rufus.

           Bobby glanced over and shook his head. “Thanks, Cas,” he mouthed. “Goodnight.”

           Cas settled back. He didn’t need to sleep, though it sometimes gave him peace to close his eyes and disconnect. Right now, he was content to watch over the brothers, and give them the rest they needed. They deserved that much.

           Crowley paced nervously in his throne room, looking up sharply when the two demons returned, their wings singed.

           “Well?”

           “The boys were telling the truth,” Simmons replied. She tossed her head. “The Cage is still sealed. The archangels are furious.”

           Crowley already knew that. The cries from the Pit were still echoing through Hell. “You’re absolutely positive there’s no weakness?”

           “Why bother sending us if you didn’t think we could tell that?” The second demon snapped. Younger than Simmons, she still dared to look Crowley in the eye.

           Crowley snarled at her, then composed himself. “Of course. I’ll go myself if I have any further doubts. Dismissed, Simmons. Bela.”

           Naomi burst into Raphael’s office. “Castiel has retrieved the Vessels from Hell.”

           Raphael got to her feet, a little unsteady in her new vessel. “How?”            “Apparently Crowley’s minions found them wandering Hell. He couldn’t get much sense from them.” Naomi tapped her toes. “Castiel went alone, without permission.”

           “They are his lover’s kin,” Raphael pointed out. “If they managed to get out of the Cage then of course they should be rescued. They sacrificed much by going in the first place.”

           “But Castiel should not have gone alone!” Naomi snapped, fury twisting her face. “He should have informed his superiors!”

           “You forget that there are no longer ‘superiors’ in Heaven,” Raphael commented with a touch of bitterness. “Castiel had the right to act.”

           Naomi turned away. “He does that too easily. To whom is he answerable?”

           “To the Host, as always,” Raphael replied, confused. “I do not understand your anger, Naomi. This is a joyous occasion.”

           Naomi rolled her eyes. “Sam Winchester being on Earth again may not be such a good thing. And if the third is anything like his brothers…”

          “Enough,” Raphael said sternly. “The Winchester boys have proven their loyalty to the principles of our Father, if not the letter of his Word. Castiel did right to stand with them. You must trust him, Naomi. Are you not the one who has always shown him the right path?”

           Naomi nodded. “Perhaps it is time for a reminder.”

           “I see no reason for it.” Raphael crossed the room to her. “We have enough to worry about with the tablets. Concentrate on that, and I will go see the brothers. Do not fear, Naomi. All will be well.”

Chapter 11: Is This The Real Life? 

           Soft. Warm.

           Those words had lost their meaning decades ago. Even when he and Adam curled together they were either freezing or burning, and the Cage’s floor was harder than steel. Any excess flesh was long gone, and the last bit of warmth Sam really knew was from his own blood.

           His body clearly hadn't forgotten though, because it was curled against the softness, soothed by the warmth. Dean was warm against his back, Adam warm against his front. Sam could feel Cas' wings settled softly over them all, and it felt good.

           But Sam kept his eyes closed. Sometimes Lucifer would trap him in his memories, make the physical sensations feel real again only to rip them away the next moment.

           "Sam?"

           Eyes still closed, Sam tilted his face so he was facing Cas. "Cas?"

           "Open your eyes, Sam."

           Reluctantly, Sam did. Cas was watching him carefully. Bright eyed. "Do you remember where you are?" he asked carefully.

           "Home," Sam whispered. "Real home. We're out."

           Cas' smile lit up his face. "That's right, Sam. We are at Bobby's home."

           Sam frowned. "Don't remember there being this big a bed there."

           "I made one. You and Adam needed rest and comfort."

           Sam tried to smile. "Thanks, Cas."

           "My pleasure."

           Dean stirred behind him. "Sam? Sam!" His brother's arm tightened around him. "Oh thank God, I thought it was a dream."

           "Shh," Sam whispered. "You're going to wake Adam up."

           "Right, sorry, sorry."

           They lay there for a few moments. Sam looked around carefully, marvelling at the tiny details of the house—the worn out wallpaper, the bookshelves, even the stairs seemed friendly.

           Adam stirred, his face still pressed into Sam's shoulder. "What—Sam?!" He pulled away, a mix of hope and terror in his eyes. "Is this—did we really?"

           "We're out," Sam confirmed. "We did it, little brother."

           Adam's sigh of relief brought tears to Sam's eyes. "That's...wow, that's so awesome."

           "Sure is," Dean said gruffly. He reached to ruffle Adam's hair. "How are you feeling?"

           "Starving."

           Sam felt Dean's flinch. "I'm hungry too, Dean," he said almost apologetically. "Maybe we could get up and get some food?"

           "Sure."

           It took some maneuvering, but with Dean supporting Adam and Cas half-carrying Sam they managed to get to the kitchen. Sam sank gratefully into a chair. The short walk had taken nearly all of his energy. Adam was gray-faced across from him.

           Sam looked down at himself again. The clothes the demons had given him were still there. They fit fairly snugly, enough for Sam to see that he'd lost a dangerous amount of weight. Any muscle he'd once had was long gone, and there didn't seem to be enough skin to cover him entirely. Adam looked even worse, eyes hollow in his skull-like face.

           "We can't eat normal food, can we?" Adam asked.

           Bobby came into the room. "Morning, boys." He shook his head. "I don't think so. Damn them, didn't they feed you?"

           Flesh, blood, bone.

           Sam shuddered. "Not really. We couldn't...we couldn't die down there, so they really only gave us enough to sustain."

           "Enough to run, when they felt like chasing," Adam whispered.

           Bobby pressed his lips together. "Okay. Don't worry. We'll have you eating diner food in the blink of an eye." He turned to the stove. "I'll make up some broth."

           "Cas, can you do anything?" Dean asked.

           Cas shook his head regretfully. "I don't have that kind of power, Dean." He brightened. "I know someone who does, though." He vanished, making Sam and Adam jump.

           "Relax," Dean said quickly. "Cas is going to get Raphael."

           Raphael.  

           A flash of storm—a vessel crumbling—chasing through an alternate world—Cas snapping his fingers, a woman exploding—Purgatory gaping open—

           "Sam? Sam?!"

           Sam reached out automatically, fingers digging into Dean's arms. "Raphael, no," he rasped.

           "Sam, it's alright. Raphael won't hurt you. Look I know she's an archangel, but she might be able to undo some of what they did, you know?"

           "Tries to kill Cas," Sam gasped.

           "What? No, Sam, that's not true."

           "Sam, that wasn't real." Adam was on the ground next to him—when had he gotten off the chair? "Remember? That was Lucifer."      

           "You sure?" Sam gasped.

           "Yes," Adam said firmly. "He told me about...about that part. Said he never liked...never liked Raphael." Adam's breath was starting to come too quickly, in and out, inoutinoutinout...

           And maybe Raphael hadn't done anything yet, but maybe she would, because even before Raphael had killed Cas, she had tried to kill Dean, and she was still one of them and she hated humans and she was probably angry about her brothers, and no, Sam couldn't handle more archangels...

           "Sam?! Adam?!"

           Sam slumped against Dean and fainted.

           When Cas returned a moment later with Raphael he was horrified to see Dean on the ground, one arm around an unconscious Sam, the other holding Adam as the boy gasped through a panic attack.

           "Come on, deep breaths, I gotcha," Dean said over and over again, but Adam's lips were blue. Bobby was searching for something in the drawer, likely a sedative of some kind.

           Cas quickly knelt beside Adam. "Sleep," he said gently, sorrowfully. The boy slumped back against his brother.

           "Cas," Dean said helplessly. Cas put a hand to Dean's cheek, let him lean into it as he supported his brothers.

           Raphael stood over them, her face expressionless. "They are badly hurt," she said. "My brothers did great damage."

           "Can you help them?" Dean asked hoarsely.

           "I can try," Raphael answered, but she didn't look all that hopeful.

           Between the three of them, they got Sam and Adam back into bed. Raphael reached out a hand, then stopped. "Castiel, I had better channel my power through you."

           "Why?" Cas asked, confused.

           "The archangels were all made the same day," Raphael explained. "We were variations on a theme, but we shared a common element of Grace. I fear I may do more damage if I use my own power.”

           "You will guide me?" Cas checked.

           Raphael nodded, and Cas held out his hand. Raphael took it and let her Grace pulse through Cas' body. Cas gritted his teeth—it was strange, like wearing a woolen sweater on a hot day, but he touched Sam's forehead and let the power flow.

           Sam's back arched off the bed and Cas felt the power ebb, felt Raphael retreat. When Sam lay prone again Raphael cautiously extended once more. Sam didn't respond that time, and Cas felt Raphael's Grace move tentatively through the Winchester's body, seeking out the deeper hurts Cas had been afraid to treat. Sam remained skeletal, but with his stomach and muscle tissue healed, he should be able to gain weight and strength much more quickly.

           Raphael nodded, and Cas let go of Sam, running a hand over his forehead first, before moving to Adam. Adam reacted less strongly than Sam, but Raphael still backed off until Adam was calm again. Together, they healed Adam the same way.

           "What should we expect from them?" Cas asked softly.

           "There is less danger from overeating," Raphael answered. "They should still start slowly, but by the end of this week they should be able to eat normal meals. That is as quick as I could make it, I apologize."          

           "You've done plenty," Dean said. "Thanks."

           Raphael nodded. "Their physical wounds should be taken care of. I have reset some broken bones—Sam's arms will be weak for another day or so, and Adam will likely require some aid walking. As for the wounds to their souls...I have never seen this kind of damage, and I am unsure how to heal it. I suspect that distance from the Cage will help, but you must be prepared. This will not be easy."

           Dean shrugged. "Our lives are never easy."

           "You are brave, Dean Winchester." Raphael's eyes bore into him. "If you need further assistance, Castiel need only call."  She smiled faintly. "I am glad that your brothers are safe." There was a flutter of wings, and she vanished.

           "Thanks," Dean said to empty air. He turned to Cas. "Now what?"

           "I suppose we wait for them to wake up," Cas answered. He could see that Dean was fighting to keep calm. He drew his mate into his arms and held him close. "Hush, dearest. They will be alright."

           "What if they're not?" Dean whispered into the crook of his neck.

           "We will help them," Cas said simply. "I promise." He thought of something. "I believe we need to ask Sam about the hallucinations Lucifer put him through. They've clearly caused some damage."

           "That might make him worse," Dean pointed out.

           "The only way to know is asking," Cas said. Dean was right—Sam could be sent into a downward spiral by the mention of those visions, but Cas knew they had to be purged somehow. If they weren't, they risked triggering flashbacks unprepared.

           "Sam?"

           Cas let go of Dean, turned to see Adam blinking up at the ceiling.

           Dean sat next to him on the bed. "Hey buddy, it's Dean."

           Adam turned to him. "Dean?"

           "Yeah. You're okay, kiddo, you just had a panic attack. Raphael was here, she healed you."

           "For real? Or like Michael does?" Adam tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse and wrong, a perversion of joy.

           Dean's brow furrowed. "For real. She said your ankles were set wrong."

           "They've been set wrong for a decade. Michael likes to leave reminders."

           "Liked," Dean corrected softly. "He's not going to do it again, I swear." He paused for a minute. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

           Adam looked away. "It's not important. Lucifer did...he did way worse to Sam."

           "Even if that's true, that doesn't minimize your pain," Cas said softly. "Michael hurt you."

           Adam nodded jerkily. "I don't....wanna talk about it."

           "You don't have to," Dean promised. "But I swear if you ever want to talk, I don't care what's going on or how late it is or how small you think it is, you come to me, okay? Or Cas, or Bobby, whoever suits your fancy."

           "Why?" Adam's eyes were filled with tears. "I'm not...I'm not really family."

           Dean sighed. "Adam, you’ve got to stop that, okay? You are family. Yeah, we don't know each other that well, and God knows you didn't deserve to get dragged into this mess—"

           "I said yes."

           "So did Sam. And both of you have suffered for it." Dean gripped Adam's hand tightly. "Families make mistakes sometimes. We say or do the wrong thing, we can't protect the people we should, we end up lonely because someone didn't speak up. But that doesn't mean they're not family. I promise you Adam, you're family now and forever, and you've got just as much right to be here as any of us."

           Adam surged off the bed, thin arms wrapping around Dean's shoulders desperately. "Thank you," he gasped. "Sam said it, but I didn't...I couldn't believe it."

           "It's okay, Adam," Dean whispered, stroking Adam's hair. "It's okay, little brother."

           Sam felt groggy when he woke up this time, the way he always did after fainting. Why had he fainted?

           He sat bolt upright when he remembered.

           Cas was sitting next to him on the bed, his eyes calm but shoulders tense. "Sam, relax. You are safe."

           Sam leaned back hesitantly. "You're probably gonna have to remind me of that one a few times," he tried to joke.

           "As many times as is necessary," Cas promised without a trace of laughter in his voice.

           Sam put a hand to his forehead. "Can I get some food?"

           Cas helped him to sit up, propping him up with pillows. "Dean and Adam and Bobby are outside," he said as he carefully handed Sam a bowl of broth and a spoon. "Adam is trying to strengthen his ankles, so they are walking around the cars."

           Sam smiled. "We always did that when we broke our legs," he remembered. Then flames burst in front of his eyes, and Bobby's house was on fire...

           "Samuel, it is false," Cas said clearly, and the vision cleared.

           Sam sucked in a deep breath. "Thanks, Cas,” he stuttered. “How did you know?”

           “Your eyes became distant,” Cas answered, “but I did not see what you saw. Do you want to…talk about it?”

           Sam shook his head. “It wasn’t real, Cas. I’ll be fine.”

           “Or you might go through the next few weeks in agony because you are unsure of what has really transpired,” Cas said bluntly. “I spoke to Crowley while you were unconscious. He told me that Adam said something about Lucifer forcing you to live through an alternative timeline?”

           Sam swallowed hard. “Yeah. It was one of the last things he did. Cas, I can’t—”

           “I understand, Sam,” Cas said seriously. “But you need some concrete way of knowing that what you saw was not real, and you need to know what is.”

           “So how do I do that?”

           Cas took a small notebook from his pocket, a pen clipped to the rings binding it. “I thought you could write it down,” he explained. “Write down everything you can remember, and we will read it and respond. We can write down what happened on our end as well. This way you can have something to consult when you feel unsteady.”

           Sam looked at the notebook cautiously. “Sounds…sounds good, Cas. Thank you.”

           “I hope that it helps,” Cas said seriously. “Now, you need to eat. Will you let me help you?”

           “I don’t think I need—” Sam tried to pick up the spoon, but his fingers refused to wrap around it properly. “Um…would you mind?”

           “Not at all.” Cas took the spoon from him. “Though I will not make airplane noises. Dean finds them amusing, but I don’t find them conducive to digestion.”

           Finally, Sam laughed.

Chapter 12: Comparing Notes 

           The next three days were difficult for both Sam and Adam. Even with Raphael's accelerated healing, their bodies soon began to demand the food they'd been denied so long, food they couldn't handle. It was hard for Bobby to say no to more food, but after Adam spent twenty minutes vomiting up hunter's stew, they both realized it was time to cut back.

           Dean watched his brothers carefully, waiting for any sign of trouble they couldn't handle. Cas had moved the big bed upstairs, and Sam and Adam still slept curled together. He and Cas usually slept next to them, or at least stayed in a chair, watching over them. The nightmares hadn't really started yet, but Dean figured that was more because of over a hundred years of built up exhaustion than anything else. His Hell nightmares had started right away, but he figured that was because he hadn't had a body in Hell. All the damage was to his soul, which made the replacement more mentally traumatic. He knew once Sam and Adam's bodies were in better shape, though, the nightmares would probably begin, along with the rest of the mental aftereffects.

           And Sam was still writing.

           Cas had explained his idea, and Dean thought it was a good one, but now he wasn't quite sure. Sam had stopped speaking almost entirely, spending hours at a time writing things down in the notebook, then scribbling over them fiercely and even ripping out some of the pages. Dean didn't touch the ones that Sam tossed in the garbage, but the waiting was killing him. He wanted to know why Sam had jumped when Cas had mentioned Balthazar, why he started crying when 'Stairway to Heaven' was on the radio, why he looked so intently at their eyes sometimes.

           Adam was slightly more coherent, and was willing to talk about life before the Cage, if not the years in it. So Dean pieced together one brother's life while praying that his other brother's fake life hadn't destroyed him entirely.

           Finally, Sam came padding over one morning with the notebook, now an eighth of its original size. "Here," he whispered.

           Bobby took Sam and Adam upstairs to settle them in for a nap—it seemed to help keep food down—while Dean clutched the notebook and shook.

           Warm arms wrapped around him from behind. "Dean."

           "What if I can't do this, Cas? What if I can't read it?"

           "That's why I am here," Cas replied. He drew Dean over to a chair, sitting down before pulling him into his lap. "We're going to read this together, and we're going to help Sam."

           Dean buried his face in Cas' shoulder, nestling against his boyfriend. They hadn't had time alone in three days, and while it was deliriously wonderful to have Sam and Adam back it was getting tougher to hide their relationship. Cas didn't mind the secrecy, but Dean did. He hated not telling his brothers, but he was still unsure of how they would react. Besides, this wasn't the time to be showing off his awesome boyfriend and the great year they'd together.

           “Dearest, stop.”

           “How am I supposed to feel?!” Dean snapped.        

           “I don’t believe there is any sort of measure for this situation,” Cas replied seriously. He stroked Dean’s hair. “You know that my emotions are not as chaotic as yours, yet I find myself bewildered. We must simply try to hold on, Dean, and do what we can for Sam and Adam. Right now, that means reading this.”

           Dean opened the notebook. Sam’s clear printing made his heart clench—ever since he’d admitted at a young age that he had problems with reading, Sam had done his best to leave notes in print rather than in writing. His issue (dyslexia, maybe? That’s what Lisa thought, anyways) had improved as he got older, but Sam had never stopped.

           Apparently 120 years hadn’t changed that.

           Dean took a deep breath, and turned his eyes to the first line.

           Several hours, two loud arguments, three pens and six broken pencils later, Sam and Adam came down to find Dean and Cas putting letters into envelopes. Dean’s eyes were red, and Cas looked disconsolate.

           Dean looked up at Sam. “Hey little brother. It’s okay.”

           That was Dean’s old mantra, long ago, before Sam even knew why he was afraid of the dark. It was strange, hearing the child’s words in the man’s voice, but somehow it was exactly what Sam needed to hear.

           Dean jerked his head towards the notebook laid on top of two envelopes. “Those are for you.” He gestured to the other pile. “Those are for you, Adam. I think…we think you should read them.”

           Adam picked his up and glanced at Bobby, who was drinking in the corner. “Can I go read these upstairs?”

           “’Course. C’mon, you two, we need some work done on that old Toyota.”

           Sam watched Dean and Cas leave with a bit of trepidation—they weren’t mad, were they? But Cas smiled, and Dean patted his shoulder, so they couldn’t be too mad.

           Alone now, Sam sank down in the chair. With trembling hands, he opened the notebook and started to read.

What I thought happened (Sam Winchester)—Chronologically (I think)

1.Before I jumped into the Cage, I told Dean to go stay with Lisa.

Um, no, you didn’t. You told me to stay with Cas because you thought I couldn’t take care of myself. For some reason.

You aren’t very good at taking care of yourself Dean.

Shut up Cas.

I don’t understand why we’re discussing this in writing, Dean. And Sam, Dean is correct, you asked me to take care of Dean and told Dean to ask me to stay.

2.Right after I jumped in the Cage, Cas pulled my body out, but left my soul.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Why would I leave your soul? It’s attached.

DAMN IT CAS DON’T GO THERE. SAM NO, THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

3. (or 4? I don’t know at this point) I found our grandfather on Mom’s side and some of our cousins and we started working together. Crowley brought him back from the dead to work for him.

He’s dead. Your argument is invalid.

I’m not sure that’s convincing coming from you, Dean.

Fair point. But still. Sam our entire family is dead.

Dean is correct. Your mother’s bloodline was just as important as your father’s so we’ve kept an eye on them. You had two living third cousins, but they died six months ago. Dean’s never spoken to them.

See?

4.(or 3) Cas had a “disagreement” with Raphael and it started an angel civil war.

Now that one almost happened.

Ye of little faith. In both me and Raphael.

Babe I was blaming your asshat sister entirely for that one. You wanted all the little featherheads to be happy.

Raphael and I made peace Sam. Heaven is now governed by a Council of Factions. Your brother was instrumental in this.

All I did was yell at people.

You did far more than that, Dean.

5.To fight Raphael Cas made a deal with Crowley to try to open Purgatory and get the souls out to give him power in the fight.

…Cas if you did this we’re breaking up.

Don’t be ridiculous. Crowley has made a deal with Raphael to run Hell and keep the souls there under control, but there are no souls in Purgatory.

6.Dean had a regular, normal life with Lisa and I went around the country hunting soulless.

Nope. I drop by to see Ben because he’s my kid, but Lisa and I are just friends now.

You weren’t hunting Sam. You were in the Cage. It must have been awful but you weren’t free.

Also…wait, did you not come to see me?

7. Crowley started hunting Alpha Creatures (first of their kind) to interrogate about Purgatory—Samuel was helping him but I didn’t know. One of them came after Dean, so I went to save him. (this is a year after ‘getting out of the Cage’)

A year. You came to see me after a year?!

Wait, it’s only been a year!

DEAN.

Sorry, sorry. Still that’s good, because anything after this is bullshit.  But a year, Sam?!

Dean we need to blame Lucifer for this, not Sam.

Yeah, fry that motherfucker’s wings off.

Angels don’t have mothers Dean. And I believe Lucifer was a virgin.

How…why…do you know that?

8. A lot of crazy stuff happened, I don’t remember too many details—we started working for Crowley, we took care of a shapeshifter baby, and I let Dean be turned into a vampire because we had the cure. Lisa and Dean split up because hunting was becoming a problem.

…………

WHAT THE FUCK IS LUCIFER ON?!

9. We worked with Meg to capture Crowley and try to get information on how to get my soul back. Cas kissed Meg, then helped Crowley fake his death. We also found out that our grandfather was trying to get Mom resurrected, and one of our cousins died.

Alright. Number one, CAS NO. Number two, seriously, Sammy, just disregard anything that happened with dear old Gramps, he’s not on the playing field. Number Three, CAS NO, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I…why on earth would I kiss Meg? She’s in a female vessel.

HOW ABOUT THE PART WHERE YOU’RE WORKING WITH CROWLEY?! Also, yeah. No kissing demons. ESPECIALLY Meg.

10. This part’s fuzzy, because I was only told about it, but Dean made some kind of deal with Death so that he would pull my soul out of the Cage. I tried to wanted to had to tried to kill Bobby to perform a ritual that would make it impossible to put my soul back in, because I was afraid about what getting it back would do to me. I was stopped, and Death put my soul back.

SAM. You would never do such a thing, not even soulless. What benefit would that give you anyways?

Sammy, Bobby is fine. Promise.

11. When I woke up, I had amnesia from the soulless time. Death put a wall in my head to block my Hell memories too. Then we fought a dragon.

Well Lucifer doesn’t pull too many fucking punches now does he? Royal douchebag. You got what, maybe five seconds of rest? And if you remember this shit now, I’m guessing it comes back later. Awesome.

I am surprised Lucifer was willing to let this go on for this long, Sam. And I am more sorry than I can say that he did. No wonder you are having difficulties with reality.

Wait. WAIT. DRAGONS?! WHYYYYYYYY?

12.We went back to a town I’d been to soulless and fought spider people, including one who’d been turned because I left him behind. I started having flashbacks to Hell.

Spider people? Well, I suppose that isn’t surprising, Lucifer loves spiders.

And hates Sam, clearly.

13. Balthazar sent us to a world where our lives were a TV show. I was married to the actress who played Ruby, Cas’ name was Misha (and Misha got stabbed), and Raphael almost caught us—he’d changed to a female vessel by this point.

What. The. Fuck.

There’s my angel.

14. We met up with Samuel and Gwen (cousin) while we were hunting with Rufus and Bobby. A Khan worm (one of Eve’s creatures) attacked and started possessing us—I shot Samuel dead when he was possessed, Dean shot Gwen because he was possessed, and Rufus died.

WHAT THE HELL IS A KHAN WORM AND WHY IS IT RUINING OUR LIVES?!

Sam, Khan worms don’t exist. Do…do you mean the Mother of Monsters EVE?!

Also, Sam, just got off the phone with Rufus and had about eighty thousand Hebrew cuss words jammed in my ear when I told him he got killed by a worm named after a Star Trek character. I recorded them for you, we’re multi-mediaing this shit.

That isn’t a word.

AND KHAN WORMS AREN’T REAL.

15. Balthazar went back in time to save the Titanic—he told us that it was because he hates the song, but it was really to gain more souls for Cas’ fight against Raphael. This created an alternate timeline, and Fate was pissed and tried to kill us. Ellen and Jo were still alive in that timeline. Bobby was married to Ellen. Cas had to reverse it.

THAT’S IT, I’M GOING DOWN AND SMASHING THAT CAGE.

Lucifer is correct about Balthazar hating that song.

How’d he find that one out?

I believe he attempted to recruit Balthazar while he was streaking at a Celine Dion concert. Balthazar told him off and ruined the concert.

Angels are fucking weird. Not you.

16. We found out that phoenix ash could kill Eve, so Cas sent us back in time. We met Samuel Colt, Dean found out he hated almost everything about the Wild West, and we got the ashes in a package after Cas brought us back a second early.

Well. That’s fucking cheery. Fuck you, Lucifer.

At least you got to meet Samuel Colt. That sounds interesting.

Yeah, we got one tourist day. How generous.

17. We tracked Eve to a town where she was turning everyone into hybrids of like three different monsters, and Dean named them ‘Jefferson Starships’. She told us that Crowley was actually after the power of souls, not Purgatory itself, and she offered to let us help her (she turned into Mom for a bit). We said no, she tried to change Dean, but Dean killed her because he’d drank whiskey with phoenix ash.

Okay Lucifer clearly thinks I’m stupid, so fuck him. Second of all, since when do monsters have souls?

This is the part that makes no sense to me. That’s the whole reason that Purgatory exists—it is the resting place of the soulless. I do understand why Crowley—and by extension, me, I suppose—would want the souls if they were there. If I was attempting to take on Heaven, that amount of souls would sway events in my favour.

Yeah, but you’d never do that.

I am not certain, Dean.

I am. I’d kick your ass if you tried. You’re better than that, Cas. Lucifer’s wrong.

Thank you.

18. We found out Cas was working with Crowley. He tried to convince us to trust him, but we couldn’t. We trapped him in a ring of fire, but Crowley got him out.

Well. Fuck.

I am so sorry, Sam.

What do you mean?

I think I know what I do next.

19. This part is confusing since I didn’t witness all of it. Crowley kidnapped Lisa and Ben to get Dean to stop interfering—Cas tried to help us but Dean wouldn’t back off. H.P. Lovecraft apparently opened the door to Purgatory once, and the lady who gave us the dragon sword was apparently a monster from there. Balthazar teleported us to where Lisa and Ben were and we managed to save them, but not before Lisa got hurt bad. Cas erased their memories of Dean after Dean asked him to.

FUCK THIS.

Dean…I’m so sorry.

THIS WASN’T YOU, YOU DUMB FUCK.

And it wasn’t you either. You would never abandon Lisa and Ben, or leave them defenseless. Nor would you erase their memories.

Maybe I would, if they wanted me to.

You would never do that to your son. You would never leave him.

20. (I’m sorry.) Cas broke the wall in my head to incapacitate me and slow us all down. Balthazar betrayed Crowley’s hiding place to Bobby and Dean, I eventually managed to follow them after I got my head on straight (sort of). Cas killed Balthazar for betraying him. Crowley teamed up with Raphael instead of Cas, and used the dragon lady’s blood (Crowley killed her) to try and open the portal. Bobby and Dean got there in time to see Cas switch the vials of blood, open Purgatory and absorb all the souls, kill Raphael and become God. I tried to stab him with an angel blade, but it didn’t work. (I’m so sorry Cas).

No Sam, I’m sorry. I’m horribly, terribly sorry that this is in any way logical. No wonder you flinch from me.

Sammy, this never happened. Purgatory is closed. Balthazar is fine. Cas is not God. You better be listening too, Cas.

I killed my siblings.

No, Lucifer said you killed your siblings. You’ve both gotta keep that in mind—this ain’t you.

21. Cas didn’t kill us, he did…something in Heaven and then started going around the world using his divine powers, killing and saving people. I started having hallucinations of Hell (I guess they were real —the dream world must have started to break down).

Yeah, because you couldn’t believe the bullshit. I don’t blame you.

I don’t believe that it’s entirely that simple, Dean. Lucifer may have started to grow bored. Regardless, yes, Sam, the dream was breaking down.

22.Crowley helped us with a spell to bind Death (we thought he might be able to stop Cas). Death tried to kill Cas, and he told us about the Leviathans, that Cas swallowed when he opened Purgatory. He offered to create another eclipse the next night to retry the ritual and put the souls (and Leviathans) back.

LEVIATHANS?!

I’m guessing those are really bad?

Have you EVER read the Bible Dean? They’re terrible. Angels have nightmares about them.

23.We got to perform the spell, but I missed it because Lucifer appeared. He told me that this was all a hallucination, but I didn’t believe him (I wish I had).

So do I, Sam.

Sammy, this isn’t your fault. At all. I wouldn’t want to believe that either.

24.The souls went back to Purgatory, but the Leviathans took control of Cas and made him walk into the reservoir. He died (we thought) and the black goo went into the water system (that’s how the Leviathans travelled).

Let the record show that I already hate Leviathans, torture’s too good for Lucifer, and…I…fuck. Cas died?

I’m here, Dean. This isn’t real.

Thank…thank everything.

25.I told Dean and Bobby about the hallucinations, and Lucifer kept trying to convince me they weren’t real. Dean tried to convince me this was reality.

I will never say this ever again: I wish you’d listened to him.

No wonder you’re having trouble discerning what’s real.

26. One of the Leviathans possessed a doctor at the hospital, and he and some others started eating people. Jody was there, and she warned Bobby. Dean went after them alone. Lucifer told me that the only way out was to kill myself.

I’M GOING TO

Dean broke his pencil Sam, apologies. He wants me to transcribe, but I believe you can fill in the blank with four letter words of your choice. I will teach you some Enochian to go along with it.

27.Dean came to pick me up and we drove out to what I thought was an office building—but it wasn’t Dean, it was Lucifer. I started losing it and tried to shoot myself, but ‘real’ Dean showed up. He convinced me that pain felt different on Earth than Hell, and since my hand was cut and it hurt differently I could use that to ground myself. Lucifer admitted that he wasn’t real (but he was real and…and I guess he just made my hand feel different.)

Sammy. Sammy, no. No, goddamnit, that son of a bitch. That’s not true—pain doesn’t feel different. Pain feels the exact goddamn same. It’s hearing that’s different—voices sound different. Hell, I’ll talk all night and prove it.

Also, of fucking course he gave you a touchstone that was painful.

Listen to your brother, Sam. I realize this steered you wrong before, but if these notes are to be your new focus then concentrate on this.

28.Bobby’s house was burned down and Eric (a Leviathan) attacked us, breaking Dean’s leg. We went to the hospital. Bobby was okay, but Dean got a cast and they managed to get out before the Leviathans got them.

Well we’re sitting in Bobby’s house, so that’s another thing off the list. And why’d I get the broken leg?

DEAN

I don’t mean I want Sam to have one, jeez! I just…why not Lucifer?

29. We went to hide at Rufus’ cabin. No one could figure out how to kill Leviathans, and they started tracking us by credit card. I left to find Amy, a girl I’d met when I was a kid who was a kitsune. She’d started killing (which is how I found her), but it was to protect her son. Dean found me, promised not to track her, but lied and killed her (I didn’t find out until later).

Leviathans can only be slain by the blade of an archangel, that I know of. That’s why they’re in Purgatory.

I have two questions. 1) Was Amy real? Like, did this happen? Dude, how many monster friends do you have? 2) I WOULDN’T KILL YOUR FRIEND UNLESS SHE WAS PULLING A RUBY, FUCK YOU LUCIFER.

30. The god Osiris put Dean on trial. I defended him, it didn’t work, then we killed him. Jo was one of the witnesses against Dean, and she tried to help him.

Well I’m so glad that Jo keeps showing up only to disappear. This is great.

Lucifer appears to have quite a knowledge of pagan gods.

31. Dean gave two witches marriage counselling after their arguments started killing people.

Nope. Never. Not happening. Never did happen.

Does Lucifer know how much Dean hates witches?

32. (at the same time as 33) We captured a Leviathan, and Bobby did experiments on him to find out what could kill him. Jody stopped by the cabin, and she cleaned the floors. Some of the cleaning stuff dripped onto the Leviathan and burned him. Bobby figured out that sodium borate plus decapitation was the only way to kill them.

33. Two Leviathans were going around like us (they’re sort of like shapeshifters) and robbing banks and killing people. We had to go underground, and Bobby’s friend Frank Devereaux helped us. We found the ones that looked like us and killed them, but one of them told me that Dean killed Amy (they absorb the memories of the people they shift into). I left.

Sam, Dean isn’t writing because he is currently pacing up and down the room and raving about “FUCKING SCARED-OF-SOAP-MONSTERS” and “NOT FUCKING SHIFTERS AGAIN”—he is repeating himself quite a lot.

WHAT THE FUCK ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?!

34. We found one real psychic in a town of fake ones that was summoning a ghost. Dean and I made up.

I feel like this isn’t a good thing but I’m glad you weren’t alone the whole time, Sam.

But having you there would make Sam cling on to the dream world more fiercely, Dean.

See? Knew there wasn’t a positive.

35. Becky Rosen cursed me with a love potion and we…got married. Dean and Garth (and Crowley) saved me—there was a demon cashing in deals early by killing people right after their deals were made, and he was the one giving Becky the potion. Crowley was pissed.

YOU MARRIED BECKY ROSEN. HOW MANY FAKE WIVES DID LUCIFER GIVE YOU? Also, why the fuck did he drag Garth into this? Dude is too pure for that.

Who is Garth? I’ve never heard you use the word ‘pure’ to describe a person.

You’ll understand when you meet him. We met him during the year we were looking for John, remember Sam? I haven’t introduced you ’cause…well, I didn’t want to explain everything that happened. It would break his heart.

36.We went hunting what we thought was the Jersey Devil (turned out to be more Leviathans). We also found out that Dick Roman was replaced by a Leviathan, and he was making a chemical that makes people super apathetic and lazy and fat, he was introducing it in Biggerson’s food but it was going to go into everything.

So the lizard people theory gets some support. I HATE THIS UNIVERSE.

That’s a stupid reference.

You recognized it?! I’m so proud.

37. Dick Roman shot Bobby in the head. He died.

No. Just no.

Sam, it’s Bobby. I’m fine, son. I swear. No Dick shot me. D’you really think a bullet to the head’s gonna take me out?

38.We helped a hunter’s kid find her Dad, who was attacked by Vetalas. Her name was Krissy.

Krissy Chambers? Lee’s girl? Lee retired years ago, when Krissy was five. Why would he go back to hunting?

We’ll check up on them, just in case, Sam. But we met them a few months ago—we ran into them in Utah. Lee wasn’t hunting—he was a paediatrician, actually.

39. The God of Time sent Dean back in time and he met Eliot Ness. Jody helped us kill Kronos.

I GOT TO MEET ELIOT NESS?!

DEAN.

And you didn’t! Lame. Also, Lucifer clearly fucking hates the pagans.

40. Dean had a kid with an Amazon. I had to kill her.

WHAT DOES LUCIFER HAVE AGAINST ME BEING A DAD?! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF MY KIDS!

Dean, you have one child.

Fine. GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON, ANY HYPOTHETICAL AMAZON SPAWN (ALSO WHAT THE FUCK) AND MY BROTHERS WHILE YOU’RE AT IT! BETTER?

Yes.

41.There was a monster at Plucky Pennywhistles that turned into kid’s worst fears. The guy controlling it sent clowns after me.

Oh God. Oh no. I laughed didn’t I? I’m so sorry.

What happened at Plucky Pennywhistle’s? And what is it?

It’s a clown-themed arcade type place. I…sometimes when we were kids I’d drop Sam there. He didn’t tell me until we were in our twenties that he’d read It when he was seven.

Oh.

42.Jeffrey, a guy we saved from possession during the Apocalypse turned up again—he was actually a serial killer working with the demon, and he was trying to summon him back. I started talking to Lucifer again, and then I couldn’t use the hand trick anymore. He wouldn’t shut up.

Well…that’s new.

I’ve never heard of this either. Apparently Lucifer is occasionally creative. Still a monster though.

I hear that.

43. This part was mostly Lucifer singing Stairway to Heaven for me, but there was a cursed pair of ballet shoes and Leviathans were trying to cure cancer. Also Frank died.

Alright, well that song’s banned.

Curing cancer? They must have been trying to keep their livestock alive.

Do you mean…did you just call humans livestock?

Can you think of another explanation?

44.I had to go into a mental institution because the hallucinations wouldn’t stop. I didn’t sleep for seven days. I helped a girl who was being haunted by her brother. Dean and Meg found Cas, who’d lost his memories, but once he regained them he took my madness away. Cas stayed at the institution and Meg stayed to look after him.

I…fuck, Sammy, I don’t know which part is worse.

I am glad that my hallucination self helped you. Though you must understand something Sam—you were fighting to stay in the dream world, while Lucifer was attempting to pull you back into the Cage. You were sane; everything around you was fake. It would have been better to give in.

There it is. That’s the worst part.

45. We hunted a Shojo with Garth, and we started to think that Bobby’s flask might be holding his spirit.

So basically there was a lot of alcohol.

Is that how you fight Shojos?

You can only see them when you’re boozed up. They’re also Japanese, what the hell was one doing in the States?

46. Annie Hawkins (by the way Dean did you sleep with her too?) called us to investigate a haunted house, but she was killed before we got there. Bobby’s ghost appeared to us, and he didn’t want to move on.

You slept with Annie? When?

Who’s Annie?

Uh…old friend? We were together like eight years ago for one night, Cas.

I’d like to meet her.

Not necessary. Also, nice that Lucifer oh so graciously gave our adopted dad back in ghost form. There’s no possible way a ghost staying behind could ever, EVER go wrong.

47.We found out that someone was hacking Frank’s program, and tracked her to Dick Roman’s company. Her name was Charlie, and she was really cool (did not deserve to work there). She helped us hack into Roman Enterprises (Dean had to talk her through flirting with a guy because she was gay), and we stole a package that the Leviathans were looking for. Dick found out and attacked her, but Bobby managed to hold him off, because he was starting to become a vengeful spirit, but he broke Charlie’s arm. Charlie gave us a program to help track Roman and left.

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY

She sounds interesting, Sam. And…interesting that Lucifer understood Dean.

I mean…well…

48.The package had a tablet in it—the Word of God. We broke it and made Kevin Tran a prophet. We went back to the hospital; Cas had his memories but was crazy, and he told us about the tablet. Then Kevin showed up, then angels showed up and chased us to Rufus’ cabin. The angels took Kevin away, but they got trapped by Leviathans and Kevin was captured. Right before he got taken away Kevin translated part of it that gave us a weapon to kill the Leviathans—a bone sword bathed in ‘the blood of the three fallen’, that if we stabbed Dick with it should knock them all down.

See, this is one of those things that I just…I don’t understand how Lucifer came up with this bullshit in the first place.

My guess is that he was improvising when his effort to keep Sam awake failed. Also, Sam, the tablets of the Word of God do exist—in fact, your escape from the Cage uncovered them. However, there is currently no prophet.

49.The three fallen were a fallen angel, an Alpha monster and Crowley (king of Hell). Cas gave us his blood, then we hunted down the Alpha vampire from before, who had a human girl there who pretended to be a prisoner but betrayed us. The Alpha didn’t want to give us his blood but then Edgar told him that the Leviathans were using the humans infected with the corn syrup (Roman Enterprises bought Sucrocorp and put the chemical before in it), which was poisoning the vampires, so the Alpha gave us his blood and I killed Edgar. Bobby possessed a maid and went after Dick—he went full vengeful.

Okay maybe the soap monsters are a little more terrifying than I thought.

They are quite smart—this plan should have worked.

50.We got Crowley’s blood after he double-crossed Roman, and we got a nun’s bone for the sword. Cas initially refused to help but he did after Meg helped persuade him. We burned Bobby’s flask when he came back and asked us to. We stormed Sucrocorp (I’m pretty sure Meg drove the Impala into a sign and then got captured). I found Kevin, who told me Dick was making a chemical to kill skinny people, and we went to the lab to blow it up. Cas and Dean managed to kill Roman, but when he exploded they disappeared. Crowley kidnapped Kevin, and I was alone. I killed myself, and woke up in the Cage.

Sammy. Sammy, God, I’m so sorry. I’m here, I swear. We’re both here, and I don’t think Kevin was real, and Meg is…I mean, she ain’t our friend, but she’s probably alive? Crowley also isn’t that much of a douchebag.

Dean is right, Sam. This is awful, and I understand why it pushed you to the breaking point, but it didn’t happen.

51. You and Adam got out of the Cage. Crowley called Cas, and he winged down and got you.

52.. You are both safe now at Bobby’s, and you will recover and heal over time.

The rest of it is up to you, Sammy. Lucifer isn’t telling the story anymore (and his story sucked anyways, seriously. Goo-afraid-of-soap monsters?) We’re going to get through this, and maybe someday you’ll write a new list, about ‘What Our Family Has Done Since We Finally Won The Apocalypse’.

Chapter 13: Letters From Home

Dear Sam,

           You'll read this after the notes I made to your list—at least you should be, bitch. Go back and read them if you haven't, there's comedy gold in there.

           Sam, I don't know what to say. I've torn up half a notebook trying to get this right, because I owe you that much. We've had too many years of me not saying how I felt and you thinking I didn't want to hear it, when really if both of us had talked a little more, listened a little more, maybe we wouldn't be so afraid of each other. So I promise I'll tell you the truth now.

           Part of me wants to dive down to the Cage and show Lucifer and Michael exactly what Alistair taught me, and part of me wants to turn back time and go Terminator on their asses before they were even born. What they did to you was completely awful, and horrible, and you in no way deserve it. Especially not living that fake life. I hate that I know you well enough to know that you've been wondering about that, wondering whether or not you deserved it. Hopefully I know you well enough to give you some kind of help now that its's over. Or maybe I don't and this isn't going to help at all. I don't know.

           So, just to recap: The fake life you lived wasn't real, the Cage was, and this is real now. I swear I'll remind you every day if that helps at all.

           Now's the part where I tell you what happened this year on our end. There haven't been any major crises (except Balthazar's latest orgy, which involved a siren, he's a fucking idiot). Everything's a lot quieter now, so we mostly hunt ghosts and wendigos and all that shit.

           Heaven's a republic now, Sammy. Or...I guess it is? It's ruled by a Council, and everyone just kind of works together. There aren't any more factions, and since the Apocalypse never really happened there aren't any more soldiers either. Cas says that some angels still drill and all that, but a lot of them are just trying to figure out what they like to do. A few of them have come down to Earth and they go around doing 'discreet miracles' like Alfie, and then there's angels like Balthazar (you were right about the Titanic thing, by the way, he fucking hates that movie) who come down, possesses a homophobic Sunday school teacher and goes around having orgies with as many willing people as he wants, woman or man.

           Hell, on the other hand, is a dictatorship under His Majesty King Crowley...yep. Crossroads demon to king of the damn joint. That was kind of my fault, by the way, because Heaven was trying to figure out who could be persuaded most easily to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up and I said I'd talk to Crowley. He's actually doing an okay job with the place; there are still crossroads demons, but most of them are serving in Hell. Crowley's got a huge renovation going on, apparently, so everyone's busy with that.

           So yeah, everything's pretty calm on the supernatural side. Bobby and Rufus and Cas and I have been trying to start up a network of hunters, trying to share info and case updates, that sort of thing. Problem is, it's Bobby and Rufus and Cas and I, and a)a lot of hunters don't like at least one of us, b) most hunters don't trust any of us except Bobby  and c) none of us are exactly good at the people skills thing. Maybe you could help with that; only if you want to though.

           In between hunts, we go to see Ben and Lisa. Lisa told me right after...well, it was about a year ago that she told me Ben's my kid. Like, my blood kid. He's really great Sam: I know you met him before but he's good all the way down. He makes me so proud. He wants to be a writer when he grows up, but he likes playing with puzzles and models so...I don't know. I'm happy with whatever he wants, but I've sworn to him that he doesn't have to learn a damn thing about the supernatural if he doesn't want to. You were right, all those times you said Dad should have protected us, let us know we were safe, not made us feel like we had to fight on our own when we were kids. I have no idea what he was thinking.

           By this point you can probably tell that I'm rambling, and I guess it's time to get to the point.

           I just hope you don't hate me.

           The biggest thing that happened to me this year is that Cas and I are a couple.

           I know that might be a surprise, or it might not be, I don't even know anymore. I had my head pretty far up my ass for a while, and Dad...well, the one time I told him I liked a boy he didn't take it all that well. I thought it was wrong, and Cas was an angel besides, and...well. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I love him, Sammy. I love him more than I've ever thought I could love. I've always thought that being in love made you weak, but I've never felt this strong.

           This is something else we've never talked about Sam, and I don't honestly know how you feel about it—being gay, and all that. I hope it doesn't change anything, I hope that you like having Cas as your brother's partner...and I hope that you still love me. Because I've always known that you do, just like I hope to God that you know that I love you. If you didn't, there it is in print, and I hope that's enough.

           We'll get you through this, Sammy, and you'll have the rest of your life ahead of you and we'll be a family. I promise.

                                                                                                                       Love,

                                                                                                  Your brother Dean

           Dear Dean,

           Thank you. Thank you so much for everything. Thank you for being my brother, for being here for me when literally anyone else (except Cas and Bobby, who might have the same crazy) would have politely run screaming in the other direction. Thank you for writing exactly what I needed to see. I’m not saying that I’ll be fixed overnight, but you’re…you’re still you and that was missing in the dream world, so I’m really grateful for some concrete proof, even though you of all people shouldn’t need to prove yourself for me.

           And thank you for finally trusting me with the truth. At least, finally trusting me sober. I guess you don’t remember the time when you were sixteen, got drunk on an old bottle of Dad’s Jack, and starting babbling about this boy you saw with the prettiest eyes. I guess you found someone with prettier ones, huh? Dean, I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone who loves you the way you deserve, and I’m also happy it’s Cas, because now I get to tell everyone that my brother who thought angels were unicorns is now in love with one.

                                                                                                                Love you,

                                                                                                                         Sam

           Dear Sam,

           I have never written one of these before. Dean tells me you are meant to begin with a salutation, then make paragraphs about news. I'm going to label them for my own convenience, as I address each of my main thoughts about your writing in turn.

           1) Heaven. Lucifer painted a very dark picture of what Heaven would be like post-Apocalypse. I suspect that he wanted to make you feel powerless as you fought angels in your head (which was foolish on his part—the very reason you were there is that you are very good at fighting angels). Heaven is not in chaos, Sam. We've formed a democracy, which is organized chaos so far, but I feel that my brothers and sisters are happier. Some are certainly at loose ends, but what you and your family don't truly understand is how short a year feels to us. It's nothing, less than a day feels to you, so it's early yet, and there are promising signs that things will improve.

           2) Your family and acquaintances. Bobby is not dead. Dean is not dead, and nor am I, or Balthazar or Rufus. I don't know the others you mentioned, Kevin and Charlie, but I am sure that if they exist they are fine. If it would reassure you, we could research them and see if they are alright. I am confused about Meg (see section 4) but I am sure she is alright as well. There are very few demons remaining on Earth, and they are strictly crossroads (as Crowley pointed out, there wouldn't be so many demon deals if there were no demand for them, so they've been allowed to stay). As for the Campbells, they've all been dead for a while, and I am perplexed by Lucifer's decision to include them. They didn't seem like very nice people, so why would it bother you if they died?

           3) Purgatory: It appears Lucifer both hated me and knew me far too well. I am ashamed to admit it, Sam, but the idea that I would open Purgatory in order to stop a rampaging Raphael without looking at the consequences is...honestly, not far off. I was able to follow the train of logic I followed in your dream world, and I am sorry to say that I almost approved of it, until I read about the Leviathans. Happily, that is not how Purgatory works. Both angels and demons have access to Purgatory, though no one goes there (the inhabitants of Purgatory are not very friendly). Also (I don't understand how Lucifer forgot this) you cannot suck soul energy out of Purgatory. The creatures there have no souls. That is why they are there. That is the entire point. I suppose if you wished you could summon an army of creatures out of the place and lead them across the world, but I swear to you that I will not do this, nor anything else to do with Purgatory.

           4) Dean: I don't know whose letter you will read first, Sam, though I guess it is Dean's. If so, he has likely told you that he and I are now romantically linked—he calls us partners, I use the term mate, as this is the term that I know and one that covers the same meaning as partner but goes deeper. Dean has promised to try using it.

           Sam, I love your brother. I have never known a love like this. I have known no other love than one shared among angels, and that is more of the kind of love between Rufus and Dean, where there is trust and common purpose but not much affection (at least not often spoken about). This is not fraternal in the slightest, anyways. I have loved Dean this way for a long time. It may have begun the moment that I first saw his soul in Hell, it may have been later than that, I am not certain. But I am honoured and gifted beyond words by the fact that he loves me. I do my best to be worthy of his regard, though I fear that may never occur.

           I remember when you asked me what God thought of people who were gay, and I did not understand your question (I thought you meant joyful people), but you seemed pleased by my answer. To clarify (now that I actually know what you're talking about) God is and has always been indifferent to sexual orientation. Some of my brothers and sisters have been working to try to undo that misconception among the so-called 'faithful', but it isn't an easy task. I know that Dean has struggled with this issue, so I ask that you be direct with him about your standings on gay people so that he may be gay (This was funnier in Enochian but I don't believe you read it?). I hope also that you can accept me in your brother's life, and I swear to you that I will always be good to him.

           I hope that this letter, as well as my notes, make things clear for you about what happened in your absence, Sam. I promise that I will stand by your side and aid you however I can. I am proud to call you my friend, and if you ever need anything, ever, you need only call.  Dean and I share a profound bond, but you are important to me too, Sam, just in a different way. Perhaps one day I might call you brother.

                                                                                                   Warmest wishes,

                                                                                                                     Castiel

           P.S. Dean said I should add this in case I thought of something else, but I didn't. I didn't want to leave it empty though. C.

                         Dear Cas,

           Thank you for your letter. It was a good first one (but you don’t need to number the paragraphs, especially if it’s just a casual letter).

           A lot of your points were addressed in your notes and Dean’s letter (by the way, what’s this about an orgy with a siren? Balthazar seems…interestingly similar), but I wanted to thank you for stating them again. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before I don’t have to refer to them anymore, so I’m glad I have different editions. I guess I’m collecting realities now.

           I’m very supportive of your relationship with Dean (but a) please get a room and b)no more bad puns). I can’t really express how grateful I am that he’s had you this past year—he seems healthy and in one piece and that’s more than I’ve been able to do sometimes, so good job.

           And yeah, if you want to call me brother…that’s completely cool. You’ve been that for a while.

                                                                                                            Your brother,

                                                                                                                         Sam

           Dear Adam,

           Hi Adam, this is your brother Dean. I'm not really good at writing letters, but I thought you might need some things written down too. So here's a list of the top ten things Adam Milligan should remember.

           1) Adam Milligan is family to a) Kate Milligan. b)Sam Winchester c) Dean Winchester d) Castiel A-O-T-L (I really wish that made an actual last name) e) Bobby Singer. You can be family to  John Winchester if you want, but honestly I don't see why you would, I'm having a hard enough time dealing with it.

           2) Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, person in the back doesn't determine breaks. You can pick one of the last two.

           3) The. Cage. Was. Not. Your. Fault. I was there, man. Michael was the idiot that grabbed hold of Lucifer; it's his own damn fault he was there. And there's no shame not fighting an archangel, those motherfuckers are tough.

           4) Cas and I are a couple. I don't know how you feel about bi people, but I am one. If you hate me, that's fine. But I'm still going to help you if you need it, even if you don't want me. I've got lots of practice at that.

           5) Hell is motherfucking awful. I remember, okay, and my tour was probably like Graceland compared to the Cage. It's a bad place full of bad people, and that kinda seeps into your head for a while. I found that fishing helped when I felt too much like one of them—if you want to give that a shot, let me know.

           6) Just because you're 1) doesn't mean you have to hunt. I am completely one hundred percent positive about that. Once you're better, if you want to run screaming down the road...I mean I won't let you, I'll drive you where you want to go and make sure you get set up properly, but if you don't want to be in this, you don't have to.

           7) You're an uncle. His name is Ben Braeden, he doesn't look much like me and he's the most awesome kid ever. I might fight you on that front.

           8) If you ever, EVER need to talk about ANYTHING, tell me. If you ever want to ASK anything EVER, you ask me. Plain and simple. Sam and I kinda screwed up on both those fronts, so I'm going to try to not make that mistake with you. I might need some practice, so feel free to wave this piece of paper in my face as necessary.

           9) Don't ever take a joint from a guy named Don, and so help me deadbeat-Dad God no dogs in the car.

           10) I love you. Yeah, I know, it's sappy, but being with Cas makes me think that sappy's just another way of saying being honest about your feelings (I still need some work on that). Just remember, not matter what, 10 is set in fucking stone, man. I swear and promise.

                                                                                                                       Love,                                                                                                   Your brother Dean.

                                          PS I mean it about the joint thing. That was a bad day.

                                                                    P.S. #2: What’s your favourite colour?

                      Dear Dean,

           Hi, it's Adam. You're actually okay at writing letters, so I thought I'd write you one back to kind of respond to your ten points (writing something to respond to them will make me remember better.)

           1) Thanks. Seriously, thank you. It was just Mom and me growing up, which is technically a family but it didn’t always feel like one, even when John was there (from Sam's stories I think I get what you mean about being lucky. I'll try to remember that).

           2) I pick the backseat. I don't care what we listen to, I fall asleep in cars really easily.

           3) I'll try to remember this part, but you got to remember Dean, me saying yes let Michael be there in the first place. But if you don't blame me, and Sam doesn't, and neither do Cas or Bobby, I guess I'll try to believe it. You're all the ones that matter anyways.

           4) Duly noted. Dude, I am as gay as a daffodil. I guess that's what Sam meant about our ‘line’.

           5) Fishing sounds kind of fun, I'm willing to try it if it'll help. I know that playing video games always kinda worked when I was stressed, do you think we could try that too?

           6)I honest don't know if I want to hunt or not. I never really thought about it, because when it was really me talking to you, not the ghoul, I was only really thinking about saving my mom, saving the world, and then going back to being dead. I don't think I want to be dead anymore, so I may not get into hunting. I want to stay with all of you though, if that's okay, even if I don't always join in with the Ghostbusters stuff.

           7) I never thought I'd be an uncle. Ben, hm? That's my middle name. I am so honoured that you named your son after me, Dean. That means so much.

           8) I guess I should say thank you, but I really don’t know if that’s enough. I’ve never really had anyone to talk about my problems with—Mom was great, but she was so busy with her own problems, and well…you knew John better than I did. I promise I’ll try to come to you, though.

           9) Who’s Don? Did he have the dog? I have so many questions about this story.

           10) I don’t get how you can love me without really knowing me, but I guess if you can then so can I. So I love you too, on principle, and I’m sure I’ll still love you when I know you’re better. And yeah, the sappy thing is right.

                                                                                                                  Love,

                                                                                               Your brother Adam

              P.S. I want to know more about Don, Dean. Or is it Dons? Was Don a dog?   

                                                                                                P.S. #2: It’s orange.

           Dear Adam,

           I want to address something that you don’t seem to want to discuss aloud. I also want to tell you something that I have only told Dean, but may be of help to you.  

           About two years ago I discovered Heaven’s plans concerning your brothers. I wanted to warn them, help them fight being vessels. I thought it was wrong, and that if the Apocalypse meant losing them then it shouldn’t happen.

           Naturally, my superiors were not fond of this idea. I was taken back to Heaven and disciplined. Zachariah oversaw most of it, but Michael was there as well.

           I still cannot find the right words to describe what they did to me, but while Zachariah was terrifying because he enjoyed my pain, it is Michael that I remember most vividly. Michael and I have never been close—I was not one of his nest, Gabriel raised me—but I believed in my innocence that he cared for me in some way, as I did for him.

           He taught me very carefully that day that I was wrong.

           I do not know what happened to Michael after Lucifer Fell. I know only that he was not always so cold, so out of reach. I believe that our Father’s leaving was the last straw, and Michael must have given up on trying to love anyone or anything. That does not excuse what he has become, but it may explain why he has such great hatred for those who deviate from the path he bestows—I from the obedient soldier, and you from the useful vessel.

           Michael brought me low that day. I was released from his attention only when I became convinced that I was a broken, burning creature that deserved no happiness, and could cause only pain. It took time for me to see otherwise; it took your brother’s love to convince me it was false. I fear that he has hurt you in the same way, and I wish to offer you ears that will understand, should you ever wish to talk.

           He lied, Adam. He lied if he called you useless or weak, he lied if he blamed you for anything. You are a worthy creature, and Michael cannot understand that in a human. I realize now that he hated humanity with the same fierceness as Lucifer; he just learned to hide it under a general dislike of any creature that did not bow to his whims.

                                                       I hope that this will help with your recovery.

                                                                                                                 Yours,

                                                                                                                Castiel

           P.S. I know that you want to keep your torture from Sam—from what you have said, it seems that he is unaware that you were ever hurt by Michael—but I must say that I don’t think that is wise. Keeping this secret will make your own healing far more difficult, and Sam deserves to know what a wonderful younger brother he has. C.

           Dear Cas,

           I’m sorry that happened, man.

           I’ll try to believe what you say.

           Yours,

           Adam.

           P.S. I’ll…think about it.

           Bobby gave the envelope with a messy scrawl of Cas to its recipient. “Has everyone got their letters now?”

           “Yes, Bobby,” Sam replied. He was lying on the sofa, picking slowly at a plate of sliced apples. “Thanks for giving them out.” He grinned over at Dean. “And thanks for coming out, Dean.”

           Adam cracked up. “That was the one thing Sam ranted about all the time. ‘I swear, if those two aren’t together by now…’”

           Dean grabbed a pillow, but before he threw it he seemed to think better of it, and clutched it to his chest, mumbling under his breath. Cas patted his shoulder. “It’s alright, dearest.”

           Dean blushed furiously and Sam cooed. “Aww…”

           “Ain’t they adorable?” Bobby reached out to ruffle Dean’s hair. He had to pull back when Dean tried to bite.

           Sam smiled. “They’re perfect. Seriously.”

           Cas grinned at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

           Bobby went into the kitchen and started rummaging in the fridge. “Damn that angel, if he took my cobbler—”

           “Balthazar hasn’t been here in three days,” Dean pointed out. “Jody dropped that off yesterday.”

           Bobby came back with a pile of forks and a casserole dish of peach cobbler. “Well I didn’t put it on the top shelf.”

           Sam grinned as he saw Cas fidget. “What, no plates?” he asked.

           “Don’t need ‘em.” Bobby plunked the casserole down and handed out the forks. “Eat what you like.”

           Sam hesitated, then leaned over and took a fork. “Sure. Dibs on the edge.”

           “Why the hell do you like the edge, it’s all hard—”

           “The edge is the best part!”

           “See Dean, one of my brothers has some sense!”

           “Whatever, more for—Cas, leave some for me!”

Chapter 14:  Nothing Suspicious Here, Nothing At All

          Three days later, Adam woke panting from a nightmare that was all dark corners and laughing lurkers. Sam turned over next to him, mumbling something.

           Adam took a deep breath, putting his fingers to his temples. We’re out. It’s in the past. We’re out. The nightmare faded slowly, but it did fade, and that was enough for now.

            Light peeked in from beneath the curtains, and Adam could tell from the growling of his stomach that it was late morning. Hunger, and the knowledge that it could be stopped, was still new. Still just a bit uncertain.

           Adam got up carefully, trying not to wake Sam. Cas was angel-dozing (Dean’s term, not his) in the chair, and he raised his head when Adam stood up. “I’ll stay,” he mouthed. “Dean is downstairs.”

           Adam nodded and crept out of the room. Downstairs, this new and wonderful place.

           Dean was listening to music in the living room while Bobby read an old book. Adam nodded to them both, trying to resist the urge to go in and curl up next to one of them. They’re not going to disappear, he told himself sternly. You don’t need to attach yourself to them.

           The simple task of frying an egg and making coffee soothed the last of the dream away. Anything he did with his own hands seemed to help—in the Cage they’d been useless. Even when he and Sam were curled together while the archangels fought, they could (and often were) dragged apart by Grace. Now he could pick up a frying pan and place it down on a stove that would still be there when he turned his back, and the eggs would stay eggs when the coffee was finished.

           Sometimes it was the little things.

           By the time the eggs were fried Sam was coming downstairs with Cas. Cas joined Dean on the sofa, while Sam pulled one of the smoothies he’d made the night before from the fridge.

           Adam sat down and took a bite of his eggs. Ah. Peace. Quiet. Warm food.

           Then, of course, Cas sat bolt upright.

           Dean took his headphones out. “Babe?”

           “It’s Raphael,” Cas answered, shooting a look at Adam. “She wants to come down and speak to Sam and Adam, if they’re willing.”            “Can’t she leave us alone?” Dean groaned.

           “I’m okay with it,” Adam said carefully. Sam nodded. “I think it’s reasonable. But I don’t want to talk about…well.”

           “Don’t worry,” Cas assured him. “She will not ask.”

           Cas’ eyes seemed to glow for just an instant, and a flutter of wings announced Raphael’s arrival. Adam put down his plate, nervous—how were you supposed to greet an archangel? But Raphael put up a hand.

           “Please, rest, Adam Milligan.” Her voice was deep, much deeper than Michael or Lucifer. The ring of her true Voice was somewhat muffled—like Cas, Raphael was used to wearing a vessel.

           Cas inclined his head. “Raphael.”

           “I wished to check on your healing progress.” Raphael’s gaze travelled slowly between Sam and Adam—Adam could feel a momentary touch of Grace against his skin. “You are more resilient than I imagined.”

           “Thank you?” Adam tried.

           Raphael met his eyes. “Adam, I have also come to offer you a fulfillment of a vow.”

           Now Adam was confused. “What vow?”

           “I know that before Michael took possession of your body he promised that he would return you to Heaven once the fight was done.”

           “He lied,” Adam answered, suddenly feeling light headed. Dean started to get up, but Raphael shook her head.

           “It matters not. The vow of an angel is sacred. It must be kept, and in the event that an angel may not fulfill its terms, another may take it on.”

           Dean was out of his chair now, Bobby tense behind Raphael.

           “Be still, Dean Winchester.” Raphael’s voice was mild but Dean still froze. “I’m not going to kill him. But I offer you that choice, Adam. You may come to Heaven. It is different now—your Heaven is more a set of places than one memory, and visitation is possible.”

           Mom.

           Adam had tried not to think about his mother—hadn’t in decades. But her face was still clear as ever; worn, tired, affectionate. He could see her again.

           But not yet.

           “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. “But my family is here, too and…I want to try to live again. If that’s okay? I know I’m kind of supposed to be dead, are there rules about that?”

           “I believe we angels broke those rules in resurrecting you in the first place,” Raphael answered with a wry smile. “As you wish, Adam.”

           “Can you just…tell my mom I love her? And I’m safe, and I’ll see her someday?”

           “I will.” Raphael turned to Castiel. “I will return now. Do not forget the Council meeting, brother.”

           “Of course not,” Cas said calmly, but Adam saw that something was off. “I will be there along with the other fourteen. Oh, forgive me, the other eight faction leaders.”

           Raphael tilted her head to the side. “What are you trying to say, brother?”

           “What I mean, sister,” Cas said as he stood up, “is that there are far fewer factions now than a year ago.”

           “I myself think it an improvement,” Raphael replied. “There were too many. It was causing discord.”

           “And yet the ones that are forming together are now a larger percentage of the Council. And they hold similar views to your own, Raphael.” Cas’ face was still calm but Adam saw his eyes narrow just a fraction. Just enough to show that he wasn’t messing around.

           “That is not under my control, Castiel.” Raphael’s tone was sharper. “I did nothing to encourage this.”

           “Of course not,” Cas agreed. “You don’t want to lead, do you?”

           Raphael took a step closer to Cas and Dean got between them. “Alright, both of you, calm down.”

           “I am calm, Dean,” Cas answered. He did drop his aggressive stance. “Apologies, Raphael, it just seemed strange. Particularly after the tablets were found.”

           Raphael let her hands drop to her sides. “Perhaps this is simply how the factions change with time,” she proposed. “As for the tablets, they are proving unimportant at the moment, as well as useless. Naomi’s faction is working on them for now. Until they become of use, why spend much time on them?”

           Cas held her gaze. “Raphael, you must answer two questions, and answer them honestly. Would you ever try to free Michael and Lucifer from the Cage, and will you ever try to take sole control of Heaven?”

           To Adam’s shock, Raphael laughed. And it was real too—incredulous and delighted. “Brother, your fears have become great!” An easy smile on her face, she patted Cas’ shoulder. “Breathe easy. I will not lose my senses entirely. The Apocalypse is not meant to happen; that has been made clear from the suffering of many, not the least your mate’s brothers. And…” his smile faded. “My brothers…they have become different. I do not think it wise to ever let them out.”

           Adam’s shoulders sagged with relief. Sam buried his face in his hands.

           “As for the second,” Raphael continued, “I do not deny that I believe I have the right to rule. But I, like you, have agreed to follow the will of the Host in our new Republic. Should they ever wish for me to lead…well, perhaps that day will come, and I will not refuse. But I will not do anything against the will of the angels.”

           Cas considered his brother for a minute. “Very well. My apologies, again, Raphael. I am merely uneasy. Much is happening at once.”

           “I know. Do you remember the millennia when elephants came to be?” Raphael looked wistful all of a sudden. “It was quiet then.”

           “Not all change is bad,” Cas answered, “but yes. It would be nice to have everything sorted at once.”

           Raphael took her hand from Castiel’s shoulder. “Well, I must go. If anything is amiss, I will answer your call.” She disappeared.

           Cas slumped down on the couch, his head buried in his hands. Dean put his arm around him. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

           Cas took a deep breath. “Something is wrong. Raphael has never laughed unless she was hiding something.”

           “Do you think—” Sam croaked.

           “No,” Cas said immediately. “She told the truth about that, I am sure. I wouldn’t have let her leave here if I wasn’t.”

           Adam poked at his now cold eggs. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, Cas.”

           “I have to trust her,” Cas said. “I don’t know if I can.”

           “Try until it don’t make sense, and until then, keep watch,” Bobby said. He stood. “I’m going to make more eggs. Anyone want them?”

Chapter 15: Good Cop

           Sam looked at Adam. “You sure? We don’t have to do this.”

           “We should at least try,” Adam pointed out.

           Sam gave a thumbs up to Bobby, who was on the phone.

           “Sure, Jody,” Bobby said. “You can come over this afternoon. Yes, it’s fine. Bye.” Bobby hung up. “She’ll be over around three.”

           Three. Four hours from now.

           It had been two weeks now, and apart from Raphael neither of them had seen anyone other than Bobby, Dean and Cas. After a particularly brutal nightmare about the Khan worm, Sam had called Rufus at three in the morning (that phone call had thoroughly convinced him that Rufus was alive, well, and deserved several bottles of whisky), but they hadn’t come face to face with anyone else. They hadn’t even left Bobby’s property.

           Sam didn’t want to risk an episode in public. Until he was positive that he was grounded, he didn’t want to deal with the eyes of strangers. Conversely, he didn’t want to see familiar faces either—the way he’d reacted to Raphael had taught him he needed to move slowly.

           But. But it had been two weeks, and he’d read the notes cover to cover countless times (well, fifty-seven, but most people didn’t keep track after twenty, so countless still worked), and he and Adam were both much stronger physically. And Jody lived close by, and they didn’t have to leave to go see her, so why not?

           Why not at least try?

           Sam was getting tired of not knowing.

           The hours passed slowly. Dean persuaded Adam to go outside and start learning about basic car mechanics, and Cas went outside to watch. Sam helped Bobby go through some new books he’d received in a trade-off the month before. Most of them were in Latin, and the familiar process of translating titles and old-fashioned spelling distracted Sam from the upcoming visit.

           Inevitably, however, three o’clock came. Dean came in with Adam and Cas about two minutes before a car pulled up outside and Jody knocked on the door.

Jody’s hair was shorter now, a pixy cut just like in the visions, but Sam relaxed as he saw her walk in. She was tan, too, and her eyes were sparkling bright. Real, then, and Sam had known it immediately.

           Jody was carrying a huge casserole dish—more peach cobbler? She handed it to Bobby quickly, but her eyes were fixed on Sam and Adam. “Hi Sam,” she said softly. “And you must be Adam. Bobby’s told me a lot about you both.”

           Sam stood carefully. “Hi Jody. How’ve you been?”

           Jody jerked her head. “I’ve been okay. Keeping busy. Your old man’s been teaching me about hunting, too.”

           “Yeah?”

           Jody sat down across from them. “There haven’t been too many cases around here, but he’s been getting me up to speed with lore, and Dean’s got me learning a few fighting techniques they don’t teach at the academy.”

           “Do you like it?” Adam asked.

           Jody shrugged. “After…well. After everything, I couldn’t just ignore it. Besides, I’m the Sheriff. It helps if I know exactly what’s out there, so I can protect my community better. I’ve been dropping hints around some other departments too—finding other cops that know about hunters.”

           “You’ve been discreet, right?” Sam asked, alarmed.

           “Nah, I’ve been walking in with a wendigo head asking for the local witch,” Jody said dryly. “You know, hunters aren’t the most subtle creatures. And the cops that you let get close to the scenes…well, they don’t forget that kind of thing. I’ve gotten quite a few ‘don’t come NEAR me with that crazy shit!’ but I’ve gotten some good contacts across the state and I’m working on branching out.”

           “That’s great! It’d be nice to have some more professionals in the know, so that hunters aren’t constantly…”

           “Arrested for breaking the law?” Jody raised her eyebrows. “I know you’ve always seen it from the other side, but you have to understand that for a cop, it sounds like someone completely crazy trying to excuse violence or a B&E. Plus, you’re not all saints. How many times did I run you in, Singer?”

           “Lost count.” Bobby slammed the fridge door.

           “And how many of those times were for hunting reasons?”

           Bobby paused. “Most of them.”

           “See?”

           Bobby flipped her the bird and clomped upstairs.

           “Would you consider networking with other people?” Adam asked. “Doctors, maybe? That might help.”

           Jody nodded. “That’s a good place to go next. For now my contacts are kind of with cops, but hopefully once more people are in the know it’ll be less risky to talk to other people. Donna’s cousin is a nurse, and she’s willing to help.”

          ��“Who’s Donna?” Sam asked.

           Dean chuckled. “Jody’s girrrrrrlfriend.”

           Jody glared at Dean. “Brat. Cas, can’t you control him?”

           “He doesn’t care for it in public,” Cas replied seriously.

           “Gross!” Adam complained. “Get your established-relationship-asses out of here!”

           Dean sniffed and put his arm around Cas. “Come on, babe. We’re clearly not wanted here. Save us some cobbler!” He tugged on Cas, who followed with a grin.

           “Is Donna really your girlfriend, Jody?” Sam asked politely.

           Jody twined her fingers together, a soft look on her face. “Yeah. I’m kinda crazy about her. Or she’s driving me crazy, it depends on the day. She’s the Sheriff in Stillwater; we met at a Sheriff retreat. She knew Dean and Cas first, actually—they worked a case together with a pishtaco about eight months ago.”

           “What’s she like?” Adam asked.

           “She’s the most cheerful person I’ve ever met,” Jody said, and Sam couldn’t hide his smirk at her grumpy tone. “She’s always hopeful, but she’s…fierce, too. She’s still pretty new at hunting, but she likes it. Her asshat ex-husband left her a year ago, and our first date she stood up and told the entire restaurant how grateful she was to figure out she was gay, because otherwise Doug would’ve ruined all men for her anyways and she didn’t have to blame him. He was there with his new girlfriend, it was great.”

           “She sounds awesome,” Adam said. “She doesn’t happen to have a little brother?”

           “Only child, actually.”

           “Damn.”

           “Well, I’m happy for you, Jody,” Sam said. “She sounds great. I’m glad you found someone after…” he stopped. What was he thinking, bringing that up?

           To his surprise, Jody just smiled a little sadly. “It’s okay, Sam. I know a lot of people would think it’s too soon. I thought so too, and then I met her and realized that I shouldn’t wait the rest of my life to try and feel better. She doesn’t take away the hurt, but she gives me a different kind of happiness, and that’s good, at the end of the day.”

           Sam smiled. “That’s good, Jody.”

           Jody shook her head. “What am I doing, talking about myself? What…I mean, how are you boys doing? Can I help in any way?”

           Sam felt Adam tense next to him. “We’re getting better,” he said, putting a hand on his brother’s arm. “It’s not…I honestly don’t know if you can help.”

           Jody nodded, closing her eyes. “Bobby…Bobby and Dean explained a bit more about the…uh, mechanics of Hell. You boys are very brave.”

           “Brave?” Adam asked, confused.      

           “Adam, when my husband and son died and the town went zombie, I cleaned everything up and then stayed in bed for a week.” Jody reached out hesitantly, and just as slowly Adam took her hand. “I know a little bit about trauma, though nothing on your scale and I…I admire that you’re trying to cope with everything.”

           “It’s that or die,” Adam replied, and Sam knew he was right. Three nights ago he’d found himself in the bathroom, a razor above his wrist. Maybe the pain will be the trigger, he thought as Lucifer’s voice rang in his ears. Maybe this will still work. Then he thought of Dean’s note, and went and woke his brother up instead. Dean’s off-key singing had finally drowned the Devil’s voice at dawn.

           It was like trying not to think of pink elephants, except the elephants crushed their lungs every time they were visualized. Without their family and the notes, Sam wasn’t positive that he would still be breathing. He just wanted the memories to stop, already.

           “Sam?”

           Adam’s voice rang clear in his ears, and Sam snapped out of it. Jody was looking at him intently. “Sam,” she said. “What are you sitting on?”

           “A…sofa?” What kind of question was that?

           “What colour is it?”

           “R-red,” he stuttered.

           “Tell me more about it.”

           “It’s…uh, it’s soft. That’s because the springs are busted in the middle, but no one wants to fix it. It’s low to the ground.” Sam’s breathing was getting slower, and his hands weren’t shaking as badly. “It’s not very long, I’ve had to curl up on it since I was sixteen.”

           Jody smiled. “Good.”

           “What was that?” Adam asked. “Some kind of spell?”

           Jody shook her head. “Once I got moving again, I realized that I was having problems coping with reality. I had panic attacks, flashbacks—sometimes I hallucinated.”

           “What did you do?”

           “I went to see a therapist. I couldn’t tell him about the zombies, but I did tell him that my husband and son died violently, and I…watched it. I couldn’t do anything.” Jody’s lips trembled. “Then there was some trouble in my town, and I had to fight people I’d considered friends…people I watched grow up, grow old…” She bit her lip, waited a moment. “Anyways, he told me I probably had PTSD.”

           “What did he tell you to do?”

           “Well, I didn’t want to go on meds—bad history with drugs malfunctioning—so he gave me some coping mechanisms. One of them is the chair thing; it doesn’t even have to be a chair, just something you’re touching. Just describe it with as much detail as possible, and then move on to other objects close by. It helps ground you in the present. You can do it with someone else, too.”

           Sam ran his free hand over the red cushion. It had helped. “Anything else?”

           “Phone games. Little ones that don’t require a lot of thought. It helps with the anxiety, and it gives you a distraction. Breathing deeply helps too—have either of you done yoga?”

           “Yes.”

Sam looked at Adam in surprise.

“What?” Adam muttered. “It’s nice, it helps with flexibility. I couldn’t touch my toes when I was a kid. What about you?”

“Ex-girlfriend was into it. Like, really into it.” Sam refocused. “Those sound like they could help, Jody.”

“Hope they do. You should do some research of your own, too—not everyone has the same coping techniques. Find ones that work, and look for some that you can do with other people.” The soft look came back to Jody’s face. “Donna found one where you say the alphabet backwards together, going back and forth. I know it sounds childish, but it…”

“Maybe it helps because it’s childish,” Adam suggested. “It’s simple, it doesn’t take an adult mind…it helps you refocus without giving you more to think about.”

“Could be. I’m not a therapist, but that makes sense.” Jody let go of Adam’s hand. “I only meant to come over for a short visit. The cobbler’s for you two, but if you want to share with the others, you can.”

Sam grinned and stood up with her. “Thanks Jody.”

           Jody leaned forward and put her arms around him. “Thank you, Sam. You saved the world, you know. That’s a big deal.”

           Sam hugged back, a sudden lump in his throat. “You’re welcome.”

           Jody let him go after a long minute and hugged Adam. “It was nice to meet you Adam. You’re a good kid. I’ll let you know if Donna’s got any young male cousins. Or female? Does it matter?”

           “Gotta be guys,” Adam answered, hugging back. “I don’t have the benefit of choice, unfortunately. You and Dean are lucky.”

           Jody laughed. “I’ll put the word out.” She walked to the door. “Take care of your boys, Singer.”

           “What do you think I’ve been doing, woman?” Bobby reappeared, coming downstairs with a pile of sheets. “You two feel up to laundry?”

           “Taking care of them doesn’t mean chores!”

           “It doesn’t?” Bobby shrugged. “Guess I’ve been doing something wrong.”

           Sam laughed.

           That night after supper, Sam turned to Dean. “When are you going to see Ben?”

           Dean looked up in surprise. “I’ve…well, I’ve been Skyping with him the last couple of weeks. I saw him the day you came back, but I didn’t…it’s far away, Sammy.”

           “It’s not that long a drive,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Anyways, can’t Cas snap us there?”

           “Yeah, but I don’t want to leave here until you’re…wait, us?”

           Sam glanced at Adam, who nodded. “The visit with Jody went okay, and I just thought…well, I’d like to see Ben and Lisa again.”            “And I haven’t met ’em,” Adam chimed in. “I want to see your mini-me.”

           “He doesn’t look much like me,” Dean said, almost automatically. “If you two feel up to it though…I did talk to Lisa yesterday. She said that whenever you two feel up to it, she’d like to see you.

           “I think we can do it,” Adam said. “Why don’t we try this week?”

Chapter 16: It’s A Quarter After One

          Dean parked the Impala and glanced towards the backseat. “Everyone okay?”

           They’d planned the visit for Saturday, and had spent the vast majority of Friday in the car, trying to get Adam and Sam used to the sensation of driving again. Sam had adapted fairly well, but Adam wanted to get out of the car every two minutes at first. Finally, just before sunset, they’d gone for a longer drive just out of town. Bobby had joined them on that run, and they’d eaten sandwiches and watched the stars come out.

           Still, driving all the way there was out of the question. Cas had very carefully snapped the Impala just outside of Battle Creek, and the fifteen-minute drive to Lisa’s was just enough to send Dean into a blind panic.

           What was he thinking? His brothers were still shaky enough that a car was a problem—two new people? One of whom was a child? Ben was excited and scared to meet his uncles; well, he’d met Sam, but, “Dad, I didn’t know he was Uncle Sam then. Wow, I have a country for an uncle!”

           Dean had laughed at that, the night before, but he’d also promised Ben and Lisa (and Sam and Adam when he was putting them down) that no matter what, if anyone was uncomfortable they could always bow out and try again.

           But…damn it, Dean wanted this to work. He’d missed Ben fiercely—two weeks was way too long. But Sammy and Adam were priorities too.

           Having more family at the same time shouldn’t be harder than missing people.

           But Sam seemed calm, his hands steady and still at his sides, and Adam was blinking awake from a dreamless sleep. That was better than Dean could have hoped for.  

           “Let’s go, Dean.” Sam unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. Dean followed, checking over his shoulder to make sure Adam was doing the same.

           The door opened and Ben came out, much more slowly than usual, his eyes wide. Dean strode over to him as quickly as he could and wrapped his son in a tight, fierce hug. “Hey buddy,” he whispered.

           “Hi Dad,” Ben whispered back. He sounded completely overwhelmed. “Is that…is that them?”

           Ben was tall enough now to see over his shoulder, Dean realized. “Yeah,” he said, gently disengaging. “That’s them.”

           He turned and tried to see his brothers through Ben’s eyes. They’d both been gaining weight rapidly, but Sam was a good forty pounds off the last time Ben had seen him, his muscles turned weak and his cheeks hollow. Adam looked almost two decades older than the picture Dean had showed Ben, and he was leaning on Cas’ shoulder like his legs weren’t sure if they could support him.

           They looked terrifying.

           Ben stepped forward and held out his hand. “Hi Uncle Sam. Hi Uncle Adam. Nice to meet you. Well, again, Uncle Sam.”

           Sam choked out a laugh. “Nice to see you again, Ben. Dean told me you got an A on your test last Monday, good work.”

           Ben beamed. “Thanks! Cas helped with that—I’m no good with algebra, but he explained it way better than my teacher.”

           “Maybe I could help with that,” Adam suggested. “I’ve always liked math.”

           “You nerd,” Dean said before he could stop himself.

           “Dad! You can’t call your brother a nerd!” Ben looked highly indignant.

           “I just did,” Dean told him. “No offense Adam.”

           “None taken, jock.”

           “Excuse me?”

           Adam laughed. He took a cautious step forward and took Ben’s hand. “Nice to meet you, kid. Sorry we’re not totally…okay right now. We’re working on it.”

           “It’s okay,” Ben said, eyes wide and serious. “I’m just glad you’re not trapped anymore.”

           “Us too,” Adam answered.

           The door opened behind them and Lisa came out. “Hello! Sam, Adam, it’s so good to see you.”

           “How are you, Lisa?” Sam asked.

            Adam was staring at her. “Wow, Dean. You sure have a type.”

           “The hell do you mean?” Dean asked.

           Cas chuckled, dark hair falling into blue eyes. He needed a trim, Dean thought absently. “I have no idea, dear one.”

           Lisa pulled her messy dark hair back into a ponytail, missing a few strands. She blew them out of her face, bright eyes dancing. “Me neither.”

           The afternoon was calm. Ben talked with Sam and Adam quietly while Dean did his best not to hover. Finally Lisa kicked him into the backyard to start the barbeque for supper. “I’ll call you if they need you,” she promised, handing over the hamburger meat.

            Of all the women he could have knocked up, he was glad it was Lisa, Dean decided. How had she known that this was the first time he’d been completely alone in almost three weeks? Not that he’d minded—having time with his family was awesome, it was all great. But it was nice to be alone for a couple of minutes, to put on the barbeque and start preparing the burgers and setting up the table, and know that his brothers and son were in good hands. He smiled at the now sizzling meat. This was shaping up great.

           There was a flutter of wings behind him. Groaning, because he knew it wasn’t Cas, he never flew unless he absolutely needed to, Dean turned around. Just as he’d expected, Balthazar stood there, with…flowers?

            "Hello, tarsier,” Balthazar drawled. “Is the lady of the house at home?”

           “Lisa’s insi—wait, what are you doing here?” Dean snapped. “We’re all here visiting.”

           Balthazar’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? Apologies, I didn’t know.”

           Dean narrowed his eyes. Roses. “Are those for Lisa?”

           “If she’ll take them,” Balthazar answered.

           “Oh hell no,” Dean said. The burgers started to smoke a bit and he cursed, flipping them and turning the heat down.

           “I thought you and Cassie were well entangled in exclusive domestic bliss,” Balthazar said with a frown. “Or is Lisa also involved?”

           “No!”

           “Then why can’t I offer to court her?”

           Dean laughed. “Right, because that’s what you do. You court people.”

           “I do sometimes.” Balthazar’s eyes were unusually intense. “Yes, I like one night stands as much as you once did, Dean, but that isn’t what I want here. It’s not what I’m offering.”

           Dean tried to process that. “You want to ask Lisa out.”

           “Yes. Are you going to give me permission?”

           “Hey, Lisa does not need my permission! That’s her decision, all the way. I’ve got no right to say something like that, why would you—”

           “Alright, relax, Dean. I’m sorry. I thought that was your problem.”

           “Of course not!” Dean tried to calm the surge of jealousy, of worry. Ben liked Balthazar—he’d told him about the angel’s visit the week before. Dean could handle Cas being a sort-of co-parent to Ben. He wasn’t sure if he could compete with a third man.

           “Is it Ben?” Balthazar guessed. “Don’t worry about that. I like the boy well enough, but I don’t want to be his dad, and he doesn’t need me to be. He’s got two already.”

           Dean relaxed. “Well—I mean—thanks. Just remember, you hurt them, you suffer. The end.”

           “Of course,” Balthazar said lightly. “Anyways, I haven’t asked her yet, and I wouldn’t presume on her answer.” He passed the bouquet to Dean. “I won’t interrupt your visit. Just tell her if she wants to talk to me, she only needs to pray. I’ll be listening.” He made an elaborate bow and disappeared.

           Dean lay down in the familiar guest bed with a sigh. Sam and Adam were in the other spare room—they’d both insisted on trying to sleep with just the two of them for one night. Cas was still listening, but a few minutes ago he’d reported that both of them were asleep and dreaming, if not exactly pleasant than at least non-Cage dreams.

           Dean laid his head against Cas’ chest. “Interesting day.”

           “Yes. Sam and Adam seem to be responding well to others. They may be ready for more forays into the normal world.”

           “We should still take it slow,” Dean argued. “I know Sammy has this thing where he gets better from something and then he immediately gets worse again. I know this isn’t a cold, but…”

           “Dad?”

           Dean sat up. Ben was standing in the doorway, fully dressed.

           “Can we go?”

           It took Dean a second to remember. “Right now?”

           “Please? Uncle Sam and Uncle Adam can come too.”

           Dean glanced up at Cas. “You up for that, hon?”

           “Certainly. It’s been a while.”

           “Okay.” Dean thought for a second. “Ben, why don’t you go wait in the car.” He tossed him the keys. “I’ll wake up your uncles.”

           Sam was groggy and Adam demanded to know where they were going, but Dean managed to coax them both out of bed. They were both still fully dressed, so they didn’t have to change, and with a minimal amount of noise they were all in the Impala, Ben squished between Sam and Adam.

           “Where are we going? And why are we going there at one in the morning?”

           Dean slid in the cassette marked ‘Ben’. “We’re going to a great American establishment.”

           “Which is…”

           “Sammy, all the fun’s in the surprise.”

           The soft music that came spilling from the speakers made Dean wince. He’d forgotten that Sam wasn’t completely aware of one kind of important development this year.

           “Is that…Taylor Swift?”

           “Yes.”

           “We like her,” Ben said, looking up at Sam. “Do you?”

           “Never listened to her much,” Sam answered diplomatically. “Has she got a new album? This one sounds new.”

           “Yup. Some of the songs aren’t as good, but I think she’s still awesome.”

           Dean caught his brother’s smile in the mirror. “We can change it if you want.”

           “No way,” Adam protested. “That upsets the laws of nature. You’re the driver, Dean.”

           Checking quickly to make sure Ben wasn’t watching, Dean flipped Adam the bird.

           A few minutes later they pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot just as “Speak Now” faded out. “Alright, everyone out,” Dean announced.

           “McDonald’s?” Sam asked in shock. “Why?”

           “For McFlurries,” Ben said seriously. “And fries.”

           “We started doing it a few months ago,” Dean explained. “Whenever I visit for a weekend, we go one of the nights.”

           “Mom gets mad when we do it on school nights,” Ben said. Adam was struggling with his buckle and Ben popped it for him. “What kind’s your favourite?”

           “I don’t…I don’t remember,” Adam said, creaking his door open. “I guess I’ll have to see.”

           Cas went in first with Ben and Adam and Sam pulled Dean aside. “Something wrong, Sam?” Dean asked.

           Sam looked puzzled. “I just…Ben said something earlier, I wanted to confirm it.”

           “What’s up?”            “Well, he asked me how Grampy was and I didn’t really know what to say, so I said I figured he was probably in Heaven, but then Ben said he didn’t mean John.”

           “Right.” Dean rubbed his face. “Yeah, we had a talk about that.”

           “Ben’s not his biggest fan.”

           “Yeah. I told him some stories about growing up and he…well he flat out said that we didn’t have a dad growing up except when we visited Bobby.”

           Sam winced, but Dean wasn’t totally surprised to see that his brother didn’t look offended at all. “He’s not…totally wrong Dean.”

           “No, he’s not.” Dean looked away. “Cas and I had a pretty big fight about that. I never realized…I never…I thought he was doing the right thing. But he never really did, did he?”

           “I think once he might have loved us,” Sam answered slowly. “But it was never enough for him—we were never enough for him.”

           Dean nodded. “Anyways, that’s why he calls Bobby Gramps. When he talks about…about Mom, he calls her Grandma, but he always says John.”

           “Is he alright with us calling Bobby by name?”

           “Yup.” Dean laughed. “He said he calls Cas by name, because I’m the first Dad. Even if John doesn’t deserve it, he’ll always be there when I think of ‘dad’, so if Bobby’s still Bobby, he doesn’t get corrupted.”

           Sam was staring at him with a strange expression.

           “What?”

           Sam shook his head. “I never thought I’d see you admit that Da—that John was bad.”

           “Well, I always wanted to be like him,” Dean said gruffly. “And even when that stopped I…I didn’t know what else to be.”

           “You’re a million times the man he was,” Sam said softly, putting his hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got him beat in everything—especially as a father.”

           Dean pressed his lips together.

           The door of the restaurant swung open. “Uncle Sam, what kind do you want?” Ben called. “They don’t have Skor tonight, but they’ve got everything else.”

           Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged. “I usually get Oreo.”

           “I’ll get that then. I haven’t had one of these since I was sixteen.”

           “Got it! Are you two coming in?”

           “Sure thing,” Sam answered, stepping forward, Dean right behind.

            Usually they stayed for about an hour, but Adam looked a bit shaky and Ben seemed tired, so Dean cut the French Fry Size debate to a minimum. He tipped the cashier the usual twenty—Aiden always had his textbooks under the counter, and Dean knew the graveyard shift was the worst. Ben was cheerful as they walked to the car, but he stumbled a few times and fell asleep against Sam’s shoulder before they got home.

            Once Cas had gone inside with Sam and Adam, Dean picked Ben up. He was getting a bit big for this, but Dean was plenty strong enough to do it, so why not? Besides, he’d missed out on the first ten years, when you were supposed to carry your kid in after a late night car ride.

            Ben didn’t stir until Dean was laying him back in bed. “Dad?”

           “Hey buddy, we’re home. Good night.”

           “Did that give Uncle Sam a new memory?”

            Dean paused. “Did he talk to you about that?”

           Ben nodded sleepily. “He said he and Uncle Adam have a lot of bad memories—too many to hold, and they’re kind of pushing out the good ones. So I thought if they have more good memories, then they’ll be happier. Is that right?”

           Dean bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “That’s right, son,” he whispered fiercely. “That’s my smart, good boy. I love you.”

           How easy it was to say that now. How obvious it was that John Winchester had hardly ever said it.

           “Love you too, Dad,” Ben whispered back.

            The other customer at the McDonald’s finally got up again. Hoping the lady wouldn’t need anything else—he had a test on Monday—Aiden plastered on a smile. “Can I help you?”

            “Does that group come in often?”

            “Who, Ben and his dads? Yeah, every once in a while. Dean’s brothers are new—he said they just got back from war. They look it.” The men had been friendly, but Aiden had been unsettled by the depth of horror in their eyes.

            “Yeah. I think they’re friends of mine, from a while ago. I’ll have to try and get in touch with them.”

            “I don’t have a number,” Aiden said, “but Ben’s mom Lisa is a yoga teacher. You could ask her?”

           The woman smiled, showing her teeth. “Thanks for the help, honey.” She dropped a twenty in the jar—two in a night!—and walked out. The light in the parking lot flickered and went out.

Chapter 17: Bad Demon (?)

         Maybe it was the McFlurry, maybe it was waking up in the middle of the night, Sam wasn’t sure, but he woke the next morning from a somewhat sound sleep. Adam was frowning next to him, lip pulled between his teeth, but he wasn’t shouting either. Maybe junk food wasn’t that bad.

           Sam didn’t feel like getting up right away, so he laid back and listened. He could hear Lisa singing in the kitchen, and someone was having a shower. It didn’t feel like home, exactly, but it was comforting to hear normal sounds in a normal house. They were guests, not refugees. It felt nice.

           The doorbell rang and Sam stiffened. Lisa hadn’t said anything about anyone coming over, but it was Sunday morning. Didn’t people do….Sunday morning stuff in the suburbs?

           He heard the door open, and Lisa talking to someone, too low for him to hear.

           The door slammed and Lisa screamed. “DEAN!”

           Sam bolted out of bed and was down the stairs before he could remember he had no weapon, was wearing one of Dean’s ratty T-shirts and boxers, and still had trouble lifting heavy books.

           Lisa was shaking, holding Ben tightly to her in the living room. Cas was standing next to them wearing…only a towel. Lovely.

           “What is it?” Sam gasped.

           “Her…her feet are stuck to the mat,” Lisa gasped.

           Sam’s blood went cold. Demon. It had to be.

           He could hear Dean’s running feet—he must be coming from the garage. Not willing to wait, Sam grabbed a vase and threw the door open.

           He dropped it.

           Meg was standing there, looking very unimpressed. “Damn you Winchesters.”

           “Meg?” Sam gasped.

           “Hey Sam.” She held herself tall like she always did, but something was wrong. She looked exhausted, her shirt and jeans were torn, and there was blood under her nails.

           Sam stared at her, memories of what the real Meg had done—John, Bobby in a wheelchair, Ellen, Jo—and what the dream Meg had done—kissed Cas, stood up to Crowley, fought with them. Helped save him. Gotten captured for her trouble.

           “What are you doing here?”

           “Heard you and your brothers were in town. Wanted to stop by for a chat, but apparently Dean’s girl learned a trick or two from him.” Meg pointed to her boots. “Wanna let me out?”

           Why hadn’t she done anything? Stuck demon didn’t mean powerless demon.

           Meg scowled. “You’ve been on the inside for a year. Some hunter dreamed up a kill switch for the Devil’s traps. Can’t do a damn thing in them.”

           Cas coughed.

           “Oh, it was you Clarence?” Meg’s eyes glittered, then turned black. “Thanks a million.”

           Dean shoved Sam aside. “Get back to Hell you bitch!”

           “I can’t!”

           “It’s easy,” Dean snarled. “I’ll show you. Exorcisamus te—“

           “Dean!”

           Dean looked bewildered, but he stopped. “Sammy, I know she was kinda nice in your vision, but this is real Meg. You know the difference, right?”

           He did. And more importantly, Lucifer had seemed to genuinely care about Meg. Sam had seen his plans for post-Apocalypse when they’d been in the same body, and while most of demon-kind would be exterminated, he’d considered keeping her. Of course he’d give her a starring role.

           But still.

           “You can’t go back, can you?” Sam asked. “You’re on the run from Crowley.”

           It had started to rain, and Meg wiped a drop off her cheek. “Me and a few others. Group keeps getting smaller, ’cause we can’t agree on what to do next. But the Hell it’s gonna be bending over for Crowley.”

           “What do you want?” Dean snapped. “Lisa, take Ben upstairs. Cas, go with them.”            Lisa pulled Ben upstairs, her eyes never leaving Meg. Cas, however, stayed put. “I’m not going, Dean.”

           Dean’s eyes narrowed, but Sam intervened again. “Meg, what is it?”

           Meg sighed. “Thought about bartering for some freedom, but…I dunno. My heart really hasn’t been into hostage-taking lately.”

           Dean snarled.

           “Besides, Sam, I wanted to apologize to you. More than anything else.”

           “You…what?”

           “You heard me. I’m sorry. Sorry I ever helped that son of a bitch.”

           Sam’s eyebrows flew up. “What?”    

           “I’m not against torture as a rule, but Lucifer told us he’d never hurt you, that you were the one who’d lead us to salvation.” Meg lowered her eyes. “I haven’t been much in Hell, but everyone I talked to…well, they could hear you sometimes. In the Cage.”

           Sam winced.

           “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Meg added. “Lucifer turned Lilith, remember? He sort of invented torture. Not surprising he’s good at it. But…it wasn’t supposed to go that way. It’s…wrong.”

           Sam didn’t know what to say.

           “I know you think demons don’t know what’s right, and you’re not totally wrong, but there’s some laws of nature, even for us. And what he did…well, it made me start thinking that Crowley wasn’t wrong. That he really was gonna wipe us all out.”

           “He was,” Sam said hoarsely. “He told me.”

           Meg shrugged. “That means I can’t follow him anymore. I don’t love my fellow demon, but we’ve got a right to exist. Someone made us like this—he made us like this. We used to be human. Used to have a chance to choose. And we chose wrong, of course, but I wanted to find my way back to…to making the right choice. Trouble is, it seems like it’s between Lucifer or Crowley, and I don’t want either.”

           Sam bit his lip. He looked sideways at Dean, who was glaring at Meg. “You kidnapped our—you took John,” he said, remembering his conversation with Ben the day before. “You paralyzed Bobby. You killed Ellen and Jo.”

           “I know. And I’m not saying I regret any of it. Do you regret killing my brother? My dad?”

           “Azazel?” Dean clarified, lip curling at the name. “He was actually your father?”

           “Me and my brother and him did a triple deal,” Meg confirmed. “Long story. But of course you don’t regret it, because you were fighting for your cause. So was I. And now I’ve got nothing.”

           Sam considered her. “Knowing what you do now, if you could go back and do it over—”

           “Wouldn’t have sold my soul in the first place,” Meg spat. “But no. I would’ve gone rogue if I thought I could get away with it.”

           For a second, Sam flashed to her first vessel, the girl with bright hair who’d made him feel, for a few hours at least, like less of a freak.

           “Call Crowley, Dean.”

           “What?”

           Sam glowered at Meg. “You swear to stay away from our family?”

           “Cross my claws,” Meg said.

           “Call him, Dean.”

           “We don’t owe her anything!”

           “This isn’t about us owing her,” Sam answered. “It’s about having a little bit of leverage.”

           Dean glanced at Cas, who shrugged. “I believe she is sincere.”

           Groaning, Dean dialled.

           To Sam’s shock, the deal went down pretty quickly. Dean held the phone away from his ear at one point as a string of Scottish Gaelic slurs came out, but five minutes later Dean hung up.

           “He says, and I quote, ‘the miserable bitch can stay out of Hell if she wants, I don’t want the bother of chasing her anymore’.”

           “Good old Crowley.” It was raining in earnest now, and Meg was getting soaked. “So now what? Wanna let me go?” She looked younger now, her shoulders slumped with relief.

           “And your word?”

           Meg rolled her eyes. “I won’t hurt your precious family. I won’t hurt any humans if you’d rather that one.”

           That threw Sam. “Excuse me?”

           “I told you. I don’t have a cause any more. Maybe I could get a gig doing haunted houses. I’m just not feeling the whole ‘torment and brimstone’ thing.”

           To Sam’s surprise, Dean stepped forward and picked Meg up. She hung limp in his arms until he pushed the mat out of the way. “There. Go. Shoo.”

           “I’m not a dog,” Meg snapped.

           The door opened upstairs and Lisa’s head poked out. “What’s going on? Is it over?”

           “Yeah, Lis. Meg’s just leaving. Don’t worry, she’s not going to hurt anyone.”

           “And just because I’m nice,” Meg added, “I won’t tell anyone where you are, especially other people who could hurt you. You left that bit out.”

           There was a pause.

           “Bitch.”

           “Dean!” Lisa reproved. “Not when Ben’s in earshot!”

           “I can’t hear anything!” Ben called from his room.

           Cas tilted his head. “Meg, you need dry clothes. And you have no car. That spell will take a while to wear off.”

           “So…what? You’re going to invite me in?”

           Cas spread his hands. “I am sympathetic to those who lose their causes. And if you will do no harm…you might as well stay. And perhaps let us know about some of the unfriendly groups of demons.”

           Meg cackled, startling Sam. “I like you, Clarence. But I won’t come in if the lady of the house says no.” She looked up at Lisa, who opened her mouth to speak.

           Adam came padding out of the guest room at exactly that moment, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

           Sam started to reply, but he froze when he looked at Meg. The demon’s eyes had softened. She was looking at Adam with…was that tenderness in her face?

           “Are you the third?” she asked. “Name’s Meg. I’m a demon. Don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you. We worked that part out already.”

           “Uh…hi. I’m Adam.” Adam glanced at Lisa, who put an arm around his shoulders. “Sorry…I was asleep.”

           “That’s a good thing, Adam,” Lisa replied. She considered Meg. “I might have some clothes that’d fit you. You can put them on while yours are drying.”

           Meg entered the house warily. “Alright. Sure. If you don’t mind my asking, why the fuck are you being so friendly?”

           “Don’t curse in front of my kid. And my kid’s got an angel for a stepdad, two uncles that just came back from the dead, and another angel’s trying to get me to go out with him.” Lisa shrugged. “I’m getting used to the weirdness.”

           Meg’s eyes flashed black, and Lisa stumbled backwards. “Oh honey,” Meg crooned, “you’ve got a ways to go. ‘A’ for effort though. Now, which way is your closet?”

           Sam glanced up at the doorway. He and Adam were sitting in the living room, blankets wound firmly around Adam as he curled up next to Sam. Lisa was still in the kitchen—from the sounds of things she was cleaning every last spoon in the house. Dean and Ben were upstairs.

           Meg and Cas were arguing in the hall.

           Sam couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the little he could see of Cas’ lips they weren’t speaking in English. Did Meg know Enochian? Or was it more likely that Cas would know the demonic language? Was there a demonic language?

           Finally, they came to some sort of consensus, and Meg flounced into the room. Cas peered in as Meg sprawled out on the couch, looking intently between Sam and Adam. “Sam, Adam, Meg has an idea she wants to share with you.”

           “Tell me about the Cage, boys,” Meg said bluntly.

           Sam winced. “Why?”

           “You saved my ass from Crowley, I owe you now.”

           “And telling you about the Cage helps us how?” Adam’s back was up.

           “Honey, I’ve been a demon for almost three hundred years. Alistair was my teacher too, just like your brother.” Cas flinched but didn’t speak. “I know a thing or two about torture, and the bottom line? Getting over it sometimes means understanding it.”  

           Sam twisted his hands together. “I don’t honestly know if I’m up for that, Meg.”

           “Well say what you can,” Meg suggested. “We can deal with the fallout later, but right now I really think this might help.”

           “And why do you want to help us?”

           “I told you. I owe you. Demons might lie, but they pay their debts.”

            “I will stay, if you think that will help,” Cas offered.

           Sam looked at Adam. His brother was shaking, eyes darting nervously between Sam and Meg, but he gave a jerky nod. “If you really want to help us…. but we stop when we want to. But could you…maybe not stay here, Cas? Maybe wait in the hall?”

           Cas didn’t look offended at all. With one last warning look at Meg, he left, closing the door to the hall behind him.

           “Sure.” Meg pointed at Sam. “We’ll start with you, because I know Lucifer better than his older brother.”

           Sam flinched. “I…I don’t really know where to start.”

           “What did he do to you?” Meg asked.

           “Everything.” The word fell out while he was trying to think of something better to say.

           Meg pressed her hands together. “Now, when you say everything…I know you’re a hunter. I know what you’ve seen. Do you mean that kind of everything?”

           “Worse.” Sam dug his fingers into the couch cushions. “I couldn’t die. He’d heal me and start again.”

           “Was it the same thing every time?”

           “No. Yes.” Sam closed his eyes, then snapped them open again, horrified by the images still branded there. “It was…I mean even an archangel runs out of new ideas after a century. There were…variations on some themes.”

           Meg considered him, leaning back in the chair. “Did he rape you?”

           Sam tensed, the overwhelming sense of stopwrongdon’tplease flooding back. The first time he begged. He clenched his fists. “Yes.”

           “And did that…I’m sorry, but you’ve got to get this part out and then I’ll stop…did that have variations on a theme?”

           “Yes.” What else was there to say?

           Meg sighed. “That fucker. That was…wow.”

           “Wow?”

           “Not a good wow, I promise. What you just told me…that’s a technique that we use on the most stubborn people, or demons that are disloyal. It’s…pure, total violation. Anything and everything, constant, always the same level of horror, just in different forms.” Meg’s eyes were filled with disgust. “No one likes doing it. It’s a punishment for the torturer just as much for the tortured.”

           “Not for him,” Sam said. No, not for Lucifer; he’d enjoyed every minute. Sam had never been more sure of anything in his life.

           Meg shook her head. She looked genuinely ill. “How are you coherent right now?”

           “I’m sitting on a blue couch,” Sam answered. “It’s soft and made of leather. My brother is sitting next to me. His name is Adam.”

           Meg stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.

           “I don’t know how I’m coherent,” Sam said honestly. “My family’s here; that helps a lot. And they can’t get out. I sealed it back up.”

           “How’d you do that, anyways?” Adam asked. He was pressed against Sam’s side, head nestled on his shoulder. “I never had a chance to ask, but no one’s been freaking out about it, so I figured it worked.”

           Sam felt the heat flicker over his skin again, heard the screeches of the archangels. Blue couch. Blue leather couch. “I…it was a sealing spell. Kind of an old one. We used it one time when we were hunting a shifter with John; it trapped it. It just takes blood, metal and Latin, and that was all there. I guess the Cage didn’t really want to come apart anyways.”

           Meg gave him an admiring look, then turned her attention to Adam. “I think I’m done with Sam, honey. Want to tell me what happened to you?”

           Adam just shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean Lucifer whacked me around a few times, and Michael…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes became glassy.

           “Adam?” Sam shook him. “Adam, can you hear me?”

           Adam nodded, his eyes still unfocused.

           “Holy—Meg, can you—Cas!”

           The door swung open, but before Cas made it into the room Meg was kneeling in front of Adam, holding his hands. “It’s okay, honey. We won’t leave you. You won’t be alone.”

           Sam was utterly bewildered, but he put his arm around Adam as best he could. “Adam? Come on, little brother.” A horrible idea was growing in his mind. “Adam…it didn’t always work, did it?”

           Adam took a great, shuddering gasp. He didn’t answer; instead, he looked frantically at Cas. Cas looked deeply sad, but he nodded. “You have to tell him, Adam.”

           Adam looked up at Sam, who felt tears pricking at his eyes. “I didn’t…I couldn’t stop all of it, could I?”

           Adam buried his face against Sam’s shoulder, and Sam moved automatically to hold him more securely, cradling his brother against him. “I’m sorry,” Adam sobbed.

           “What for? I’m the one who should be—”

           “No!” Adam gasped. He was shaking violently now. “I…Michael said he’d hurt you forever, let Lucifer hurt you forever if I tried to stop them, so I stayed by myself and you’d be gone and I’d be alone…it was almost better when he was hurting me.”

           “Michael.” Sam closed his eyes, let the images come. How stupid he’d been, thinking he could protect his brother.

           Adam nodded. “He…it wouldn’t be all the time. He’d let me ch-choose when it happened, so I’d do it when you were asleep, or when Lucifer was…h-hurting you. But it was…it was so bad, and I wanted to tell you but I deserved it, and you didn’t, and, and…”

           “Neither of you deserved what happened to you,” Cas said firmly. “You both did your best to protect each other.”

           “And that explains a lot about what’s going on with you, Adam.” Meg still hadn’t let go of Adam’s hands. “You can’t let people go, can you? You were left alone with no contact for ages at a time, and when you did have contact it was painful. You’re touch-starved.”

           “That makes a lot of sense,” Sam offered, rubbing Adam’s back. “You’ve barely let anyone go since we got back. Not that anyone minds,” he added quickly.

           “But there’s more to it,” Meg added, “and this goes for both of you, okay? You both think that you need to be normal right now. Well guess what? Sam, you’ve been violated beyond human limits; of course you’re having trouble keeping control. Adam, you’ve been touch-starved and punished by a dickhead who thinks he’s better than you—that right, Castiel?”

           “Yes,” Cas replied, looking a bit surprised.

           “You don’t have to be normal,” Meg continued. “You’re still in recovery, and you’re damn lucky you’ve got people willing and able to help you with that. But don’t go beating yourselves up for every little thing you do wrong. Seems to me you two are doing better than anyone I’ve met in three hundred years. Keep at it. Don’t let ’em break who you are. But take the time to mend, okay?” She stood. “I think that trap’s worn off. I should go. You two need to process all that shit.”

           Sam nodded, overwhelmed. “Thanks, Meg.”

           “I told you, you don’t owe me anything.” The demon snapped her fingers and Lisa’s clothes were replaced by her own, still torn but missing the bloodstains. She patted her pocket and retrieved a phone and a pen. “Gimme your arm,” she told Adam.

           Adam looked horrified. “Um…you’re nice and all, really, but I…I don’t…”

           Meg threw her head back and cackled again. “Honey, you really are sweet.” She took Adam’s arm and wrote a number down. “I’m not really into vessels with your…equipment anyways.” She tipped him a wink. “Shame you boys don’t have a sister. You got one, Feathers?”

           “I have several siblings who prefer female vessels,” Cas answered, frowning.

           “I’ll have to look them up,” Meg said with a grin. It faded into something softer when she looked at Adam. “You…remind me of someone, that’s all. If you need help, call me. I’ll see what I can do.”

           Adam nodded. “Thanks again, Meg.”

           Meg nodded sharply and turned on her heel. “See yah, asshat!” she called up the stairs.

           “Good riddance, bitch!”

           “Dean!”

           “Oh come on, Lis…”

Chapter 18: Sneaking Out Heaven’s Door

          “And that concludes this Council meeting.”

           Cas’ head snapped up. “But—”

           Raphael’s eyes bore into his. “There are no more items on the agenda, and no one has raised any questions. Do you have a question, Castiel?”

           He did, as a matter of fact, but Cas could hear in Raphael’s tone that he wouldn’t be getting any answers. “No, Raphael,” he answered.

           The rest of the angels filed out, and Cas let himself be swept along. The Council meetings were held in a Heaven with an open field. Balthazar was waiting on the other side.

           Cas attempted a smile. “Hello, Balthazar. How are things with Lisa?”

           “She said yes to a date, and no to anything permanent.” Balthazar looked immensely satisfied. “In other words, the perfect woman.”

           “The perfect woman for you,” Cas corrected him.

           “Of course, I was forgetting. Some people like to mate at first sight.”        

           Cas blushed. Dean had teased him to no end when he’d found out what the mark on his shoulder really meant. In his defense, he’d been a bit…distracted. And inexperienced. And he hadn’t meant to do it then, he would have done it with proper ceremony if he’d been properly paying attention. Ah well.

           “And how are the boys?” Balthazar asked.

           “They’re doing better,” Cas replied. Something about talking with Meg seemed to have cleansed the last bits of the Cage, because Sam and Adam had made great leaps of progress in the last week. They’d even celebrated Sam’s birthday the night before, and everyone had eaten cake and fruit salad (Dean begrudgingly until he discovered the pineapple) until the early hours of the morning.

           “Well, it seems as though things are going well. So why do you look like someone repositioned your stick?”

           Cas glared at him. “Hilarious.”

           “Now, come on.” Balthazar looped his arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Tell big brother what’s wrong.”

           Cas struggled but Balthazar had a firm grip on him. “It’s Raphael,” he said, giving up. “She didn’t mention anything about the tablets.”

           “Why didn’t you ask?”

           “Because we were in there for fifteen hours and Naomi was glaring at me the entire time. How is her vessel not exhausted?”

           “So you’re afraid of Naomi?”

           “Not afraid,” Cas snapped, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. “She makes me uneasy. Besides, her faction is the one taking care of this situation.”

           “We all have a right to ask questions, though.” Balthazar steered them towards the Angel Halls, where everyone’s nests were hidden behind the same doors as the Human Heavens.

           “I wanted to,” Cas admitted, “but then I thought of Dean, and the rest of our family. I don’t want to bring down more trouble.”

           Balthazar nodded. “I suppose that makes sense, but do keep in mind that this may not be over for a while. More to the point, if Sam and Adam are getting stronger, they may join the effort to ask questions. And you know how fond Heaven is of Winchester meddling.”

           Cas winced. He remembered just before the Apocalypse, the uproar as Sam continued to try and find ways to save Dean. Several angels had volunteered to pose as demons and torture him just to get him to shut up.

           Balthazar took his arm away just as they reached the first row of doors. “Tell you what…why don’t we do some digging ourselves?”

           “What?”

           “Raphael has them in her nest, right? Why don’t we just…have a look?”

           “We can’t read them, remember?”

           “No, but at least we can see if there’s any notes on them.”

           Cas’ mind was racing. “Wouldn’t they be in Naomi’s nest?”

           Balthazar suddenly looked disgruntled. “They may be one and the same now.”

           Cas blinked. “Raphael is…they’re talking about mating?”

           “I don’t think it’s common knowledge, but they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, haven’t they? And Eliel saw them grooming together a few days ago.”

           Cas thought about it. Naomi and Raphael?

           “I know, it’s awful. But it makes it more likely that they’re in her nest, right?”

           “We’re not supposed to go in.”

           “We’ll be in and out in seconds.”

           “Alright,” Cas conceded. “Let’s go.”

           Making as little noise as possible, they made their way through the corridors. Cas had never been to Raphael’s nest before; they’d only ever met in the Garrison halls or in a private heaven. But he had a general layout of Heaven in his head, as all angels did, and after a few wrong turns they found themselves in front of a door with Raphael’s symbol on it.

           Samandriel stood outside it, reading through a scroll.

           Cas shared a look with Balthazar. A guard?

           Balthazar strode forward with a confident smile. “Hello Alfie!”

           Cas rolled his eyes. Upon meeting Samandriel for the first time, Dean had dubbed him ‘Alfie’. Cas understood why he hadn’t wanted to call him Sam, but he still couldn’t figure out why his mate had settled on that particular name. Cas felt a pang; he remembered, just barely, a time when they’d all been together, he and his nestmates, and Gabriel had presented them with the tiniest baby Cas, the next youngest, had ever seen. They’d called him Dri then.

           That wasn’t long before Gabriel had vanished, presumed dead, and they’d all been separated.

           Samandriel brightened. “Hello Balthazar! Hello Castiel!”

           Balthazar took the scroll from him. “This looks dull.”        

           “It is,” Samandriel sighed, “but I haven’t got anything else to do. Raphael ordered me to stay here until she returned from the Council meeting.”

           “It’s over,” Cas said, frowning.

           “She’s probably with Naomi,” Balthazar drawled. “Now, Samandriel, we just want a quick peek at something.”

           Samandriel looked nervous. “She said no one was allowed in. We’re not supposed to go in each other’s nests anyways.”              “Well that sounds like a double negative,” Balthazar said, clapping Samandriel on the shoulder. “We won’t be long, promise.”

           “I… why don’t you wait until she comes back?” Samandriel asked.

           Cas realized it was time for the truth. “We need to know what’s going on with the tablets, Dri.”

           Samandriel’s eyes widened. “What did…” he laughed softly. “I forgot you all used to call me that.”

           “It feels like another life,” Cas agreed. He looked at Balthazar, who looked uncharacteristically serious. “We’ve not really been behaving like nest mates, have we?”

           “We’ve been apart a long time,” Samandriel answered. “It’s okay. Really. I get to see you both now, and I saw Hannah last week for a couple of minutes.”

           The two he hadn’t mentioned—Anna, and Gabriel, their nester—seemed to hover in the air for a moment.

           “We should work on that,” Castiel said sincerely. “We have time now.”

           Samandriel nodded, furrowing his brow. “That would be nice.” He looked quickly side to side. “Go in,” he whispered, stepping aside. “I don’t like this secrecy either. I hope it’s for a good reason.”

           “Thank you, Samandriel,” Cas whispered. He slipped through the door, Balthazar right on his heels.

            Raphael’s office was typically dull. A large oak desk with a stiff-looking chair stood in front of a bookshelf crammed with medical texts. The desk was orderly, with three neat stacks of paper and an inkwell. Cas would never understand Raphael’s aversion to using technology; angels were far ahead of humanity in terms of information processing, why would she slip backwards?

            But that wasn’t the important part. Next to the bookshelf stood a large safe. The tablets were likely in there.

            Unlike Dean’s favourite movies, Cas had no need for delicate instruments nor dynamite. He simply reached into the ether and modified the equation that created the simulacrum of a safe. The door swung open.

           To Cas’ disappointment, all that lay in the safe were the tablets. There were no notes or records. There were some scrolls, but they were clearly from the Hall of Records.

           “Anything?” Balthazar asked. He pushed Cas out of the way.

           The door opened behind them. “It’s Raphael!” Samandriel gasped. “You need to go, now!”

           Cas immediately went for the door. “Balthazar, go to your house. We were never here, Dri, understand?”

           Samandriel nodded, his vessel’s face white.

           Cas waited just long enough to see Balthazar come out behind him, which was just enough time to see someone coming down the hall; then he took off.

           Samandriel gripped his scroll tightly, hoping that Raphael wouldn’t notice the sweat on his vessel’s forehead.

           To his surprise—he’d been sure he sensed Raphael—it was Naomi who came up. “Hello, Samandriel,” she said sweetly. “Anything to report?”

           “No, Naomi,” Samandriel said quietly. He’d never liked this sibling—her words hurt. No, it wasn’t her words, it was something else, something he could never remember.

           Naomi’s smile didn’t change as she grabbed hold of him. “Let’s take a walk to my nest, okay? I think you might change your mind about what you saw.”

           Samandriel didn’t even have time to speak before they were in her nest and she was binding him, vessel and Grace, to a chair. A chair that now, as he struggled, he remembered.

           “Anything coming to mind yet?”

Chapter 19: Sisterly Threats 

          Dean looked up anxiously when Cas walked through the door. Without a word he wrapped his arms tightly around his shaking angel. “Cas? Babe, what’s wrong?”

           Cas held him tight. “I’m not sure. I think we got away.”

           “What—Cas, what did you do?” Dean was struck by suspicion. “Does Balthazar have anything to do with this?”

           Cas didn’t answer.

           “Damnit, Cas.”

           “Raphael said nothing about the tablets, so we went to take a look for ourselves. We were nearly caught.”

           Dean swallowed hard. “Who was with you?”

           “Balthazar and Dri—well, you call him Alfie.”

           “He looks like an Alfie!” Dean defended himself. “Why is it so bad if you get caught?”

           “I don’t know. It is considered impolite to go into another’s nest without asking, but that is minor. What concerns me is that Dri…he was guarding the nest. We persuaded him to let us in.” Cas’ brow furrowed.

           Dean shook his head. “Alright, sit down, we’re gonna get your story straight. Where’s that boozing friend of yours? Where’s Alfie?”

           “We split up. Thought it might be better that way.”

           “Is Alfie going to need an exit?”

           “He shouldn’t get in any trouble. If pressed, he could always say we forced him.”

           “And Balthazar?”

           “He’s gone to one of his Earth homes.”

           Dean rubbed Cas’ shoulders. “Okay. Then everyone’s safe. That’s good. We’ve got time. Now you want to tell me why you felt the need to go pissing off Raphael?”

           Cas bowed his head. “I am sorry, Dean. I didn’t want to make trouble.”

           “As far as we know, you’re not in any trouble. Yet.” Dean thought it over. “She’s probably not gonna be thrilled that you were messing with her stuff, but she’s your big sister. She’ll get over it.”

           “I hope you’re right,” Cas muttered.

           “So what were you looking for?” Dean listened as Cas related what had happened at the Council meeting, and Balthazar’s idea. “So did you find anything on the tablets?”

           “No, and trying to read them is useless. The tablets weren’t meant for angels, dear heart. They were written by Metatron.”

           “Who?”

           “He was the Scribe of God.” Cas paused, trying to remember the full story. “Metatron was chosen to write down the Word by my Father. When Lucifer started to Fall, he demanded that Metatron give him the tablets; he hoped they would give him information on how to dispose of humanity. Metatron refused, and Lucifer struck him down. Unfortunately, the tablets were so well-hidden no one else could find them, and then God left Heaven so they remained lost.”

           “Why didn’t he tell anyone where they were?”            “He was very proud that he got to take notes, and he wanted to be the only one that touched them.”

           “He sounds like a dick.”

           “…Honestly, he was. No one was particularly upset when he died.”

           “Ouch. Well, it was a good try, and maybe Raphael’s just being careful, you know? Weren’t you the one saying that my scale of time is off from an angel’s?”

           “It is,” Cas said automatically, “but then again I find myself more bound to your sense of time these days.”

           Dean grinned and pulled him close. “I’m a good influence.”

           Cas kissed him. “You’re terrible, actually.” He squeaked when Dean bit his ear. “Alright, perhaps not all terrible.”

           Dean kissed down his neck. “You know, everyone’s out. Bobby took Sam and Adam to Jody’s place.”

           Cas leaned his head back. “Is that right? When are they supposed to be back?”

           Dean pulled away just enough to loosen Cas’ tie. “My time scale or yours?”

           As enjoyable as having alone time for the first time in ages was, Dean could feel Cas’ distraction. He pulled Cas into his lap. “C’mon, baby. Please don’t worry.”

           “I shouldn’t have left Dri behind,” Cas murmured. “What if something’s happened to him?”

           “Cas…c’mon. You were the one who said it wasn’t a big deal.”

           “I am not so sure now.”

           “What changed your mind?” Dean asked carefully. Cas had moments like this sometimes; when he turned problems over in his head until any small issue became unstoppable. All Dean could do was try to give him some perspective until the feeling passed.

           “It seemed weird at first, but now it seems bad,” Cas replied.

           “What did?” Dean asked as patiently as he could.

           Cas looked up at him. “Dean, why did Raphael have a guard at her door at all?”

           “Don’t you lock the doors to your nests?”

           “The doors are more of a form. Any angel could alter the fabric of the corridors; they exist for the convenience of angels who exist primarily in their vessels.”

           Like me went unsaid, even though Jimmy Novak had been killed at Stull.

           “But our nests are our own,” Cas continued. “When you are young, you are with others, but the moment you can fly, you have your own nest. It was our only refuge for millennia. No one really enters another’s nest without their permission.”

           “Okay, so you and Balthazar might have stepped on something pretty big,” Dean said slowly. “I’m surprised Balthy thought this up.”

           “He’s never been one for tradition.”

           “No, but the guy likes his privacy. He told me he has a dozen homes so no one ever knows for sure how he hangs the toilet paper. Which makes no freaking sense since he doesn’t use it anyways.” Dean looked at Cas in surprise. “Wait, haven’t you noticed?”

           Cas didn’t meet his eyes. “Balthazar and I don’t really talk about things like that.”

           Dean wanted to press that point, but he decided to go back to firmer ground. “So…you think Raphael will be mad at you because you broke a norm? That’s not exactly new for you, though, is it?” Then he got it. “Why would she have a guard if everyone knows better?”

           “Exactly.” Cas’ bottom lip was between his teeth. “I knew something was off, but I was so desperate to see the tablets…”

           “Maybe Raphael had a girl coming around?” Dean offered. “Or guy? Another angel?”

           “Actually, Balthazar thinks she and Naomi may be mating soon,” Cas replied. “But what good would a guard do? They were both still at the meeting.”

           Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, babe. But if you’re lucky Raphael won’t notice. Could she sense your Grace?”

           “We weren’t in there long enough,” Cas answered.

           “Then you should be fine,” Dean said. “Don’t worry, okay?”

           And of course, because their lives were perfect that way, the house shook, the lights flickered, and a voice bellowed from downstairs, “CASTIEL!”

           “Oh fuck.” Dean glanced at Cas. “Uh—do you want me to tell her you’re not home?”

           Cas shook his head. “Might as well get it over with.”

           Dean took his hand. “I’ll be right there with you.”

           Cas snapped his fingers and they stood in the living room, Raphael glaring at them.

           “Castiel, you and Balthazar were in my office today.” Raphael looked furious. Dean slipped a hand into his pocket, his fingers clutching his lighter. There was holy oil on Bobby’s carpet (paranoia helped sometimes), and if necessary he could trap Raphael.

           “We were,” Cas admitted. “We were looking for you, but as you weren’t there we decided to leave.”

           “And you took nothing with you?”

           “Of course not.” Dean saw Cas’ eyes narrow, and his stomach clenched. Cas hadn’t taken anything…but had Balthazar?

           “The tablets are missing, Castiel. Along with several scrolls.”

           Cas flinched. “That is unfortunate. I know nothing about that.”

           He didn’t know, Dean realized. That made it worse.

           Raphael’s eyes flashed, and the lights flickered. “If you are lying, Castiel…”

           “I am not! I took nothing. I didn’t see anyone else take anything either.”

           Raphael’s hand twitched. “And do you know where Balthazar is, so I may question him?”

           “Dude’s got a lot of houses,” Dean put in. Raphael glared at him but he looked steadily back. “Try one of them. Can’t you track him?”

           “He has…cloaked himself. From me, from other angels.” Raphael turned her attention back to Cas. “If he has taken anything, Castiel, you are also responsible.”

           “And what crime, exactly, would that be?” Dean clenched his jaw as Cas took a step forward. “The tablets are not yours, Raphael, and neither are the scrolls.”

           “They were in my nest,” Raphael all but snarled back. “I am keeping watch on them!”

           “Funny,” Cas said, “because Naomi said that it was her faction who was working on the tablets.”

           Raphael raised her hand and Dean lit his lighter. Raphael’s eyes caught the flash, and she glared at him. “Do not get involved, Dean Winchester.”

           “He’s my mate,” Dean said. “I am involved.”

           Raphael lowered her hand, eyes sweeping the carpet, noticing the holy oil for the first time. “Clever.” She looked at Cas. “This is not over, brother. You will debrief with Naomi by tomorrow.”

           “And if I don’t?”

           Raphael took a step closer, forcing Cas to step away. “Then I will assume your guilt, Castiel, and you will be brought to trial.”

           “Cas,” Dean warned.

           “I have nothing to hide,” Cas said calmly. “I will see Naomi this evening.”

           Raphael nodded curtly and vanished. Cas sank into a chair. Dean put his hands on his shoulders. “What do we do?”

           “I will see Naomi, what else is there to do?” Cas rubbed his eyes. “Balthazar, you idiot.”

           “You’re not going to Naomi without answers,” Dean snapped. “Call the bastard and ask him why the Hell he snuck off with the tablets. How did you not notice, anyways?”

           “Balthazar has always been light-fingered. He stole Gabriel’s horn once while he was still playing it.”

           Dean thought of something. “Wait…does he have my shoes that went missing?”

           Cas looked up apologetically. “Quite possibly. I’ll tell him to return them.”

           Dean shook his head. “Start dialling, we’ll take turns.” He sat down across from Cas. “There’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.”

           Cas had his phone to his ear, listening to Balthazar’s latest drunken voicemail. “Yes?”

           “Raphael didn’t mention Alfie. She must not know about him helping you.”

           Cas relaxed ever so slightly. “That is good.”

Chapter 20: Sisterly Help

           Hannah didn’t particularly enjoy escort duty, but it had to be done. Now that they were letting the dead visit the heavens of their loved ones, there were certain more…adventurous souls who needed supervision. Today she had to physically drag a man away who’d snuck into his third wife’s heaven when he was scheduled to see his second wife. Hannah wasn’t sure who she felt sorrier for.

           Tired now—souls were stronger than most angels thought—all Hannah wanted to do was return to her nest. It was lonely there, even now when some of her nest-mates could visit her…but they’d all forgotten her in the thousands of years since their childhood. She missed Cas and Balthazar, missed Anna with an ache that had never gone away. She missed Dri too, though she remembered him the least. He’d only been a baby when they were split up, barely old enough to say her name.

           Hannah stopped in her tracks. Had she heard a moan behind that door? She glanced up to the sign. It was Naomi’s nest.

           Was Naomi ill? No, if she was, she would go to the infirmary. Raphael was very insistent on that point—any injured or ill member of the Host had to report to him immediately.

           The moan came again. Hannah checked over her shoulder, then carefully opened the door. She just wanted to help…

           Hannah dropped her blade as she took in the sight of Samandriel, strapped to a chair with pins sticking out of his vessel’s head, covered in blood and shaking in pain.

           “Dri!” Hannah rushed to his side. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

           Samandriel didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to notice she was even there.

           Hannah undid the straps frantically, mind racing. Naomi’s nest…but Naomi would never…she couldn’t do something like this!

           Then Hannah’s mind flashed.

           Bright, hot pain as she fought the chains. A voice not her own chanting out her programming, the very rules at the core of her being. Obey. Obey.

           Hannah felt sick. Naomi had done something like this.

           “Oh Dri, what happened?”

            Samandriel still wasn’t answering. His vessel’s skin was burning hot, and Hannah was afraid to try the little healing she knew. She carefully pulled the pins out, wincing when not only blood but wisps of Grace leaked out. “It’s going to be okay, Dri,” she swore. “I’m right here, brother. I’ll get you out.”

           Samandriel grabbed her vessel’s wrist and Hannah gasped. “Little brother?”

           “Hannah?” Samandriel’s vessel was crying, tears mixing with the blood. “Hannah, no, leave, you’ll get in trouble. She’ll hurt you too.”

           “She won’t, because I’m getting you out of here.” Hannah picked him up. His vessel was larger than hers, but he was still light enough for her to carry. “Where should we go?”

           “Balthazar’s,” Samandriel slurred. “His house in Arkansas.” He mumbled out the address. Hannah fixed on it, saw a house way too big for one angel with a huge garden. She spread her wings and flew.

           She landed on the doorstep, wards pushing her back. “Balthazar!” she called, alarmed to feel Samandriel’s Grace fading. “Brother, please, let us in!”

           Balthazar came to the door, his smile vanishing the minute he saw Samandriel. “What happened?! Come in, quickly!” He took Samandriel from her arms, cradled him gently. “Brother…oh brother, I’m sorry.”

           Samandriel didn’t answer. Balthazar snapped and a couch popped up in the middle of the entryway. “Close the door, Hani!”

           Hannah shut it, carving sigils into it with her blade, barely registering the old nickname in her panic. When she turned Balthazar had laid Samandriel on the couch. His wings, crooked and broken, were spread out carefully. Balthazar’s hands glowed as he moved them above Samandriel’s body, the wounds fading some.

           Hannah didn’t want to interrupt, but… “brother, may I help?”

           Balthazar nodded jerkily. Hannah could see his wings fluttering in distress, and she could barely control hers enough to keep them from touching Samandriel, hurting him more. She drew on the bit of healing she’d learned as a records angel.

           It wasn’t working, and Hannah felt sick as she realized why. She could heal an angel’s Grace of minor wounds, and aid major ones, and human wounds barely took a touch, but this…Samandriel’s vessel and body had been bound together and hurt as one. Naomi had never done that before…when she’d carved into Hannah, she’d been without a vessel. Her wounds were healed, leaving only scars on her wings that she couldn’t explain. Now she could, and as she looked at her distraught older brother, she saw similar marks on him.

           “She hurt us,” Hannah whispered. “She hurt us all.”

           Balthazar went rigid, then sank down, moaning with pain. Hannah crouched beside him, enfolded him in her wings as he fought the memories. “Father, why?” he gasped. “Why did I not know? How could I never learn?”

           Hannah’s vessel’s eyes burned, went wet with tears. Close like this, she could see many scars on Balthazar’s wings, not the few that were on hers. How many times had Naomi dug into him? “Because you were yourself,” she whispered. She remembered a kind voice, all gold, and repeated its words. “You were the truest part of yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

           “Clearly Naomi disagrees,” Balthazar replied. He wrapped his wings around her, and Hannah almost sobbed with relief, her longing for closeness finally soothed. “She will learn otherwise.” His eyes, his true ones, sparkled with rage. “We will do it together, Hani.”

           Hannah leaned against him. “What do we do?”

           “Take Dri to the Winchesters. We have to warn Cas; if this punishment is because of this morning, he is in danger. Then we will find a safe place.”

           “Is this not safe?”

           “No.”

           Hannah’s head snapped up, saw Samandriel attempting to raise himself. Balthazar stopped him with a brush of his wing. “Stay down, Dri.”

           “Bal…” Samandriel was struggling to speak. “I tried…not to tell. But I think I…”

           “It’s alright,” Balthazar said firmly. “We’ll go to the Winchesters. With Cas, the three of us should be able to heal the worst of your wounds.”

           Hannah stood up. “I will help you, Dri.” With Balthazar’s help they got Dri on his feet, leaning heavily on the both of them. Dimly Hannah realized that all their clothes were covered in blood.

           “We will see Naomi the same way before we’re done,” Balthazar promised, his voice dark and heavy. Then with a quick brush of wings with Hannah to give her directions, they took off.

Chapter 21: In Tran-sition

          Sam winced and pressed a hand to his forehead. Cas and Dean arguing wasn’t helping his headache at all.

           “I don’t think this is a good idea!” Dean said for the fiftieth time.

           “As you’ve said, dearest.” Cas ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a choice. If I don’t show up, they will know for sure that Balthazar took them. I need to stall and give him time to put them back.”

           “But he’s not answering his phone, or your calls! For all you know he thinks this is a giant joke, and you’re going to take the fall.”

           “I didn’t think this would be such a problem,” Cas murmured. “I wouldn’t have expected this reaction either.”

           “Then why is it a problem?” Sam asked. “We need to figure that out before you go up there, Cas. Dean’s right.”

           “I don’t like Naomi being involved either,” Dean snapped. “You didn’t look happy when you talked about her.”

           Cas frowned, putting a hand to his temple. “And I don’t understand that reaction in the slightest. I have no…no memory…” then he slumped to the ground.    

           Dean caught him before he fell. “Cas? Cas!”

           Cas groaned, throwing his head back.

           Sam knelt next to him. “Cas, what—”

           The sound of wings interrupted him, and Sam looked up. Balthazar stood there, carrying a bloody angel Sam had never seen before. A woman—no, another strange angel in a female vessel—stood next to them, covered in blood.

           Sam leapt for the hall, wanting to rush upstairs and warn Adam, but Balthazar moved first. “Help me, Samuel!”

           “What can I do?” Sam asked hoarsely. Where did the blood come from what was happening who were these people—

           Cas moaned, leaning against Dean’s shoulder. “Naomi…” Dean was staring at Cas in horror. Something in his expression made Sam snap to attention. He ran forward and took the bloodied angel from Balthazar and the woman as carefully as he could. He laid him gently on the couch, mind reeling as he took in the angel’s injuries. “Who is this, Balthazar?”

           “Our nest-mate Samandriel. Your brother refers to him as Alfie. You two haven’t met yet. This is Hannah, another nest-mate.”

           Sam’s eyes darted between the four angels. There was something similar about them; something in the pulse of their Grace through their vessels. “Nest-mates?”

           “We were raised together,” Hannah explained. She sounded close to tears. “We have been separated for millennia, but I guess it wasn’t enough to stop Naomi from trying to re-mold us.”

           Sam felt sick. “Re-mold?”

           Cas cried out and Dean tightened his arms around him. “Cas, honey, please talk to me!”

           Hannah covered her mouth as she stared at Cas. “Brother, your wings…”

           “They’re worse than mine,” Balthazar said grimly.

           Sam didn’t want to understand, but he knew. “Naomi. She hurt you.”

           “Every time we rebelled,” Cas whispered as he tried to sit up. “Every time we questioned. Rebooting our systems—wiping our memories.”

           “Did Raphael order this?” Dean snarled, cradling Cas protectively in his arms.

           “She wouldn’t have had the power,” Balthazar argued. “Before the Apocalypse, Naomi wasn’t even in Raphael’s garrison, she was in Michael’s.”

           “That doesn’t mean she had nothing to do with it!”

           “Guys, stop shouting,” Sam snapped. Samandriel’s eyes were wild with fear and pain. Sam took his hand. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “My name’s Sam. You’ll be okay.”

           The angel stared up at him and Sam winced again. “I’m not sure exactly how,” he admitted. “But you will.”

           Balthazar joined him, kneeling next to the couch. “Just hold on, Dri. Where’s your father, Sam?”

           “He’s out getting hunter supplies. He said he’d be back by dusk though.”

           “Soon, then. And Adam?”

           “I’m right here.” Adam stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “What…what the Hell is going on?”

           “We could use the full story,” Cas agreed. He was still cradled in Dean’s arms, but he looked more alert now. “Hannah, what happened?”

           Sam didn’t���couldn’t—listen as Hannah explained. His hands were shaking as he tried to cover Samandriel’s wounds. There was so much blood, and it was so messy, and there were no bandages, Michael hadn’t given them any bandages…

           Adam’s hands on his shoulders brought him back to the present. “Sam.”

           “I’m here,” Sam muttered. “What do we do?”

           “We need bandages and warm water,” Adam replied. His voice was shaking, but his hands were steady as he moved them to adjust Samandriel’s crooked arm. “I don’t know if there’s any chance of infection, but they need to be cleaned regardless. It’s no fun being covered with blood.”

           Sam shuddered. Weeks of being filthy, covered in his own fluids… “Yeah.”

           There was a snap, and a pile of bandages and cloths appeared next to Sam, with a basin of steaming water. “Will that do?” Balthazar asked.

           Adam nodded. “How much time do we have?” he asked as he dipped a cloth into the water, wringing it out carefully. “Before the shit hits the fan, I mean.”

           “Naomi will notice Dri is gone,” Hannah said nervously.

Samandriel started to breathe more quickly, and Adam gripped his hand. “Relax,” he told him. He dabbed at the angel’s face, the cloth turning red. “Everything’s gonna be fine. This has to be a crime, right?”

“If it were under orders from Michael, no,” Balthazar replied. Adam rinsed the cloth and Balthazar snapped again, the water clean once more. “But now, if Raphael didn’t know…”

           “And if she does?” Hannah whispered. “We are lost.”

           Sam flinched. “We have to find somewhere safe,” he said hoarsely. “Raphael knows where this house is.”

           “Raphael’s got more important things on her mind than coming after us,” Balthazar said. “She intends to find the next prophet.”

           “How do you know—” Cas shook his head. “You found it in the notes you stole, didn’t you?”

           Balthazar shrugged. “We didn’t have time to look through them there. I was just finishing up reading when Hani and Dri arrived.” His hands clenched around the cloth he was using to clean Samandriel’s hands. “Raphael wants to find the prophet to read the tablets. She believes that the tablets will give proof of her right to rule unquestioned. She’s not fond of the Council, after all.”

           “How the hell do you know that?”

           “Her diary was in there. She keeps a diary.” Balthazar’s grin faltered. “She won’t come himself unless she knows for sure the tablets are here. But she’ll send Naomi.” He stood up, drawing a blade. “Hani, Cas, take the humans and Dri and go. Find a place on the other side of the world, ward it against everything. I’ll stay here. Let Naomi come, I’ll mark her fucking wings up just like ours.”

           “We need to find the prophet before they do, Balthazar!” Cas put a hand on Balthazar’s trembling shoulders. “She will pay, I promise you brother, but we need to get everyone to safety, and that includes the prophet!”

           “There is no next prophet!” Balthazar snarled. “The vessel lines are empty after Charles Shurley; there is no one else, and there have been thousands of prophets! Raphael’s chasing a pipe dream!”

           Cas started to say something, but Sam couldn’t hear it. All the noise was fading away as his vision blurred, resolving into a bedroom where a teenager rocked on his bed. A woman stood in the doorway, her eyes worried. “Kevin, sweetheart, please talk to me. What’s wrong?”

           “I don’t k-know Mom,” Kevin answered. He raised his head and Sam almost screamed. “I just feel…different. Like there’s something I need to do. And I…I can’t.”

           Sam snapped out of the vision, his head pounding. He could dimly hear Dean shouting his name. “Kevin,” he gasped. “It’s Kevin!”

           “Kevin?” Dean’s face came into focus. “Sam…Kevin wasn’t real, remember?”

           “I just saw him.” Sam groaned, rubbing his face. “He’s…he’s with his mom, and he’s in pain, he must be a prophet but he can’t get to the tablets, and it’s freaking him out…”

           “Did you just have a vision?” Dean touched his shoulder. “Sammy?”

           “Dean, it’s Kevin! I know it!”

           Cas drew in a sharp breath. “That might explain why Lucifer used him in the dream world.”

           Sam furrowed his brow. “Lucifer Fell before God left. Maybe there was a longer list of prophets before.”

           “Why would we have forgotten a prophet?” Cas asked.

           “Maybe God was sure the Apocalypse was going to happen,” Adam suggested. “Maybe he got mad. Doesn’t matter, does it? We need to go find this kid.”

           “On what evidence?” Balthazar said in disbelief. “On a hallucination?”

           “It wasn’t a hallucination,” Sam answered, strangely confident. “It was real. It felt like my other visions…before.”

           “You haven’t had one of those in years,” Dean argued.

           “Enough!” It was Hannah who’d spoken. “We can argue later. Right now…Castiel is right. We can’t let the prophet fall into Raphael’s hands.”

           “She has no way of knowing what Sam saw!” Balthazar snapped.

           “The prophet will reveal himself eventually,” Cas said. “They attract a certain amount of supernatural attention.”

           “And he doesn’t look good,” Sam added. “He’s locked in his room. I think this is driving him crazy. We need to help him.”

           Cas was on his feet, looking through Bobby’s bookshelf. “Sam, can you tell where Kevin is?”

           “Neighbor, Michigan,” Sam said. “That’s where he was from before.”

           “That’s a start.” Cas slammed a book on the table. “Balthazar, take the brothers to him. Hannah and I will stay here and ward the place.”

           “I’m not leaving you three here alone,” Balthazar protested.

           “Balth, look at Samandriel,” Cas’ voice was gentle. “He can’t take any more flying.”

           Sam glanced down at the wounded angel. Samandriel’s eyes were closed now, his breathing shallow. Adam had cleaned quite a bit of the blood, but the wounds were still bad.

           “Go and bring the prophet back,” Cas said. “We will be safe. We must have some time.”

           “Naomi will alert our faction before she goes to Raphael,” Hannah added. “I will know when she’s figured it out.”

           Balthazar looked helplessly between his siblings. “And Singer?”

           The sound of Bobby’s truck pulling up made Balthazar growl with frustration. “Very well!” He yanked Sam and Adam to their feet. “Tell me the instant you receive an alarm, Hannah. Sam, what is Kevin’s last name?”

           “Tran. His name is Kevin Tran.”

           Balthazar gripped Adam and Sam tightly, and Sam saw a flicker of not-shadow wrap around Dean. “Then let’s go.”

           Sam grimaced as Balthazar hurled them through space, bright spots whirring past them. The room they finally landed in, on the other hand, was dark. Sam could just make out a desk with a cello case propped next to it, a large bookcase and a bed. Kevin was curled into a ball on it.

           Balthazar clapped and the light came on. “Are you Kevin Tran?”  

           The boy screamed, leaping to his feet. “Who are—what—get away from me!”

           “Relax, kid,” Dean said, slouching. “We’re here to help.”

           “H-help me?”

           “Yes,” Sam answered. “You’ve been having weird dreams, haven’t you? Things aren’t right? Nothing shuts up?”

           Kevin’s mouth fell open. “How did you—”

           The bedroom door swung open and a woman with short hair and a frying pan came storming in. “Kevin, what’s wrong?”

           Adam jumped. “Lady, it’s okay.”

           “How did you get in?!”

           “We flew,” Balthazar said. He waved his hand and the frying pan disappeared. “Right, I’m having a bad day so this is going to be quick. Your son is a Prophet of the Lord. He can read tablets of the Word of God. They were dug up recently, which is why he’s been screwy the last little bit. Haven’t you, Kevin?” The boy, who was curled up against his headboard, nodded hesitantly.

           “There are bad angels who are looking for him,” Balthazar continued. “We had a slight advantage finding him but they’re quite likely able to track him eventually. We’re going to take him now and give him the tablets—that should stop the crazy. We’ll take good care of him, alright?”

           The woman—it had to be Kevin’s mother—just gaped at him. “You’re not taking my son!” she snapped. “Who the hell—what are you?”

           Balthazar groaned. “An angel. Balthazar. Now we have to go!”

           “He’s not going without me!” Kevin’s mother snapped. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, or why my son’s a prophet or whatever, but he’s seventeen and I’m not letting him go off with people who can make frying pans disappear!”

           “Only Balthazar can do that,” Dean offered. “We’re just humans.”

           “She can come, can’t she?” Adam asked. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

           “Linda. Linda Tran.”

           Adam looked at Balthazar. “She should come with him. He’s only a kid, this is a lot to take in alone. And she’ll worry.”

           Balthazar opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “Fine. But we need to go now. Start packing a bag, you two.”

           Kevin leapt off his bed and started pulling out drawers. “It’s okay, Mom,” he offered when Linda didn’t move. “I think I saw them in one of my dreams.” He jerked his head towards Adam. “I definitely saw him. This is right.”

           Linda shot one look at Kevin, then left the room slowly. Balthazar started pacing. “Hurry up!” he called after a few minutes. “We need to hurry!”

           Dean’s phone went off and he grabbed for it. “It’s Lisa,” he said, frowning. “He flipped the phone open. “Lis, it ain’t a good—what?” His tone sharpened. “What the hell do you—our what?” He turned to Sam, phone pressed to his ear. “You sure?” There was a pause. “We’re in Michigan. We’ll come right away.” He hung up and stared at Sam. “Lisa had Mrs. Ganem over, and Ben just opened her box. She’s going nuts talking about a massacre and the Men of Letters. She says our grandfather was one.”

Chapter 22: Letters Legacy

           The howls of the demon chased Henry down the hall. Larry was just in front of him.

           They managed to get the door closed behind them, Larry’s blood painting the door with projective sigils before Josie—no, Abbadon—could get in. Henry took the box out of his pocket, the last gift of a dead man. Cringing as the demon began pounding on the door, he cut his left hand and let the blood drip onto the Box, whispering in a language so old no one remembered the name. He managed a smile; the demon couldn’t get to the key. No one could but him and John.

           Even blind, Larry was still able to draw the spell. Henry bent to help, but before he could finish, the door slammed open. The two men looked up to see the demon, blood staining her dress.

           Henry’s mind flashed. Millie. John. The demon would go after them. She’d already screamed it—the Men of Letters would all die.

           He was going to die. But there was one last thing he could do.

           “Don’t lose the box, Larry!” He shouted.

           Then he started to pray.

           An archangel heard.

           Michael smote the demon, taking Henry’s life as payment. He let the other man live; why not? The Men of Letters would not be a threat to the Apocalypse, and John Winchester would grow up fatherless. Perfect.

           Lisa had Mrs. Ganem at gunpoint when they appeared after a frantic drive in the snapped-up Impala. Ben was next to her, his eyes wide.

           Dean had met Mrs. Ganem a couple of times when he came to visit Ben. She and her husband lived down the road, and Lisa sometimes had her over for coffee on the weekends. Dean tried to keep Ben out of the house on those occasions. The old lady creeped him out for reasons he couldn’t really explain—the way she looked at Ben, like she was seeing someone else, the way she traced the salt lines on the windows…

           Sam had his gun out too, and Balthazar immediately made his way to Lisa’s side. “Darling, who’s this?” His voice was more lighthearted than his eyes.

           Mrs. Ganem looked utterly unfazed. She waved to Dean. “So you’re Henry’s grandson, then? I should have known, but you never did tell me your whole name.”

           Dean didn’t understand. “Lady, who the hell are you?”

           “Annie Ganem, Dean Winchester.” The smile slipped off the woman’s face. “My husband Larry was the last of the Men of Letters.”            “Yeah, Lisa mentioned them. Who are they?”

           “Your grandfather was one,” Mrs. Ganem replied. “You and your brothers—and your son—you’re all legacies. The box proves it.” She smiled at Ben. “Your grandfather sealed it with his own blood and an old spell. Only someone with Winchester blood could open it.”

           “Mrs. Ganem, you still haven’t told us what the Men of Letters are,” Lisa said.

           “Well it’s really were, honey.” Mrs. Ganem took a deep breath. “Larry passed away last week.”

           Dean flinched. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

           “It’s alright. We’ve had a lot more years together than most. We wouldn’t have had any if it weren’t for your grandfather.”

           Dean furrowed his brow. “My grandfather walked out on his wife and son. I wouldn’t call him a hero.”

           Mrs. Ganem’s eyes flashed. “You’re wrong. Your grandfather died killing the demon that was trying to wipe all the Men of Letters out.”

           Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Linda and Kevin were in the living room with Adam, Sam was still shaky from his vision, and time was ticking. “Can you please just tell me what I need to know?”

           “The Men of Letters were an organization that were charged with the knowledge of the supernatural world,” Mrs. Ganem said. “They spanned generations, collecting and preserving all information and techniques to guard humanity. They had an elite squad of hunters, but they were innovators, knowledge seekers—they left the actual fighting to others. In a way, that’s probably what damned them.”

           “Your grandfather was going to be inducted that night—he was a legacy. There was a woman that night too; she was new, but everyone was so excited. Larry thought if she turned out well, I might get a chance too.” Mrs. Ganem’s eyes dimmed. “But a Knight of Hell named Abbadon possessed her, and she rampaged through the inner sanctum. She blinded my husband; he and Henry were the only ones that survived the initial attack. They were nearly through the ritual to kill the demon when she found them. To his deathbed Larry wasn’t sure what happened—he heard Henry pray, felt a rush of heat, and the demon was gone. Your grandfather was dead.”

           “What year was this?” Dean asked, head spinning. He remembered Dad saying it once, his dad had left—

           “1958,” Mrs. Ganem answered.

           Sam shook his head. “So he never walked out,” he whispered. “John always thought—”

           “He couldn’t tell Millie,” Mrs. Ganem said quickly. “It was against the rules. I only found out when Larry came home that night.”

           Dean bowed his head. John had always been so bitter about his own father, furious because he’d grown up without one. Now it turned out that Henry was part of an important organization and died trying to save it. “Well isn’t that awesome.”

           “Mrs. Ganem, not that this isn’t a fascinating story, but we’re in rather a rush. Is there something about this that might be able to help us?” Balthazar was tapping his foot, an arm slung casually over Lisa’s shoulders.

           “What’s wrong?” Lisa asked, eyes going wide.

           “One of the higher-up angels has been torturing and mind-wiping my nest-mates and I, and no doubt many others, for years. We also just stole the prophet.”

           Lisa stared at him. “Are you—Dean?!”

           “We’re going Lisa, don’t worry,” Dean assured her.

           “You should go to the Bunker,” Mrs. Ganem interjected.

           “The…the what?”

           “Look in the box.”

           Dean walked over to Ben, who held out the old box. Inside was a key.

           “The Bunker was the safe place for the Men of Letters,” Mrs. Ganem explained. “Warded against everything evil; that’s what my husband said at least. That’s why he’s held onto the box, in case someone ever could get into it again.”

           Dean gently took the box from Ben. “Where is it?”

           Mrs. Ganem drew a piece of paper from the pocket of her cardigan. There were numbers scrawled on it in shaky writing. “He wrote it down before he died. Like I said…just in case.”

           Sam came over and inspected the coordinates. “That’s in Kansas.”

           Dean looked up at Mrs. Ganem, who’d gone quite pale all of a sudden. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

           “Sure, honey.” The old woman leaned back. “Just…well. Just tired.”

           Balthazar let go of Lisa. “Madam, you’re dying.”

           “I know.”

           Ben gasped. “Mrs. Ganem…”

           The old lady smiled. “Oh dearie, you’re too young to see death in any way but a tragedy. Believe me, I’m ready to go. I miss my man and my babies. I’ll go see them.”

           Balthazar held out his hand. “Annie Ganem, if you want, I can give you death now. It will be quick and painless. But you must promise to never tell an angel that you’ve seen us.”

           “Of course, honey,” Mrs. Ganem said amiably. “That’s very kind of you.” She took Lisa’s hands, who was trembling with shock. “You take care, Lisa. It’s been a pleasure knowing you; I just wish I could have eased your mind sooner.” She smiled at Ben. “You be a good boy, alright?”

           “Yes, Mrs. Ganem,” Ben whispered. He tucked himself against Dean.

           Balthazar met Sam’s eyes. “I’ll be back very quickly.” Offering his arm to Mrs. Ganem, the two vanished.

Chapter 23: Bunkering Down

            Adam stared, bewildered, at where Mrs. Ganem had just stood. “Where can we—what do we do?”

           “This Bunker,” Dean decided, clutching the key. “It might work, and we can’t go back to Bobby’s.”

           “How are we going to get everybody there?” Lisa demanded. “And what about Bobby and the angels?”

           Dean cursed.

           “I have an idea,” Sam spoke up. “Balthazar, can you snap us to these coordinates?”

           “Yes.”

           “Then Dean, Adam, and I will go. We’ll check it out and get in, then we’ll pray to you and you can bring the Trans and Lisa and Ben.”

           “What about Bobby?” Dean was skeptical. “And the angels? Alfie’s too weak for angel airways.”

           Adam took his phone out of his pocket. “I might have a solution to that.” He’d texted her twice already—once to see if the number was real, once in the middle of the night in an utter panic. She still owed him.

           “Meg?” Dean asked, lip curling.

           “She might be able to help,” Adam snapped. He dialled and pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring Dean’s grumbling. They were all in danger; they had to move.

           “Hello?”

           “Meg!”

           “What’s going on, Adam?”

           “I need to call in that favour.”

           Adam heard a sigh. “Well, finally! What can I do for you?”

           “Well…where are you?”

           “In South Dakota.”

           “Doing what?”

           “Stuff. What the fuck do you want?”

           “I need you to pick up Bobby, Cas, and two other angels. One of them’s hurt pretty bad. Then you need to drive them to coordinates I’ll give you when we’re sure we’re safe.”

           There was a pause.

           “Where’s Bobby’s house again?”

           “Sioux Falls; it’s Singer Salvage.”

           “Okay. Better let them know I’m coming.”

           Adam blinked. “Seriously?”

           “Yes. Seriously. Anything else?”

           “Nope. Just…thanks, Meg.”

           “I’m paying off a debt, I don’t need thanks.”

           “Thank you anyways.” Adam hung up. “She’s in. Better give them all a heads up.”

           Dean was already texting. “Lisa, you and Ben better grab your bags and be ready to move. Whether this works out or not, we’ve got to get out of here.”

           Lisa pressed her lips together. “Our bags should be ready. Ben, you’d better grab anything else you want.”

           “Anything you don’t have, we can snap up,” Balthazar reminded her. Adam saw him reach out, but his hand fell back to his side before he could touch her. Lisa went upstairs with Ben anyways.

           “Right.” Balthazar clapped his hands. “If I don’t hear from you in five minutes, I’m coming after you.” He examined the coordinates and whistled. “This is quite likely legitimate. This area’s been a bit odd for decades; demons avoid it like the plague.”

           “That’s good, right?” Adam went to the living room door and gave Kevin and Linda a thumbs up. Kevin just looked spaced out, and Linda glared at him. Adam turned back. “Let’s go.”

           Balthazar crushed the piece of paper and whispered something in Enochian. “Good luck, boys.” He snapped.

           Adam stumbled when they landed. Dean caught him, swearing when Sam appeared on top of his feet. “Bal’s got some practicing to do.”

           They were standing in front of what looked like a door to a sewer system. Set into a hill with an old, abandoned looking brick building on top, the door looked old and lonely.

           Dean scoffed. “Classy.”

           “We’re not looking for classy right now,” Sam reminded. He walked down the steps and put the key in the lock. “Dean—” Dean took out his gun and covered him. “Yeah, that.” Sam turned the key and pushed on the door. The yawning black space beyond smelled strangely fresh for a place that had been abandoned seventy years.

           Sam took out a flashlight. Adam sighed. He wanted a magical jacket that kept a whole bunch of tools. His brothers kept insisting that they were normal coats, and that Adam could have the same stuff, but Adam wasn’t an idiot. Their pockets weren’t that deep.

           “Stay here, Adam.”

           “What?!”

           “Stay here.” Dean had his own flashlight out. “If you hear yelling, call for Balthazar.”

           Adam crossed his arms over his chest and watched as his brothers walked into the darkness. He wanted to peek in, but he knew they were right. He’d be useless if something was wrong in there.

           Adam listened. He could hear footsteps, quiet mumbling, then—to his shock—the lights flicked on.

           “Son of a bitch!”

           Sam sounded awed, not in pain. The lights grew brighter.

           “What is it?” Adam called.

           “Ad, come in,” Dean answered, the excitement in his voice soothing Adam’s worry. “I think we found the Bat Cave.”

           Adam walked in and his jaw dropped.

           He was standing on a balcony overlooking a huge room. There was a ham radio and a telegraph set up to the side, tables and chairs, a giant world map…Adam looked over and saw Dean grinning at him next to a power box.

           “There’s more!” Sam called up. “Come and see!”

           Adam and Dean hurried down the stairs and joined Sam in a room lined with bookshelves, a huge table and chairs in the centre. There were doorways leading off it—who knew where?

           “It’s safe here,” Adam said. Sam nodded.

           “How can you tell?” Dean questioned.

           “You can’t feel it?” Adam asked, surprised. The power in the walls was thrumming against his skin, a faint hum that was soothing and strong.

           “I can feel it too, Dean,” Sam said. “Whatever the wards are, they’re strong.”

           “You better pray then,” Dean said. He took out his phone. “I have reception here. We’re underground, how the hell do I have reception here?”

           That intrigued Adam, but he was distracted by Balthazar, the Trans and the Braedens appearing. Ben looked horrified, and immediately ran to Dean’s side. “Dad!”

           “Hey, it’s okay.” Dean put an arm around the kid and glared at Balthazar. “What happened?”

           “Ben has apparently inherited your dislike of flying. In his defence, I did swerve a bit.” Balthazar looked grim. “Meg reached Singer Salvage just in time. They were barely down the road before Hannah got a summons.”

           “She’s not going, right?” Adam asked anxiously.

           “She’s not, but that really starts the timer going.  They should be able to make it here safely.”  Balthazar whistled as he looked around. “Some inheritance, boys. Beautiful place. Good bones.”

           Adam saw Kevin gasp and crumple. Linda caught him, and Adam knelt next to him. “Kevin?” he asked urgently.

           The kid—he wasn’t much younger than Adam, but god he looked young—stared back at him, eyes wide with terror.

           “Balthazar, can you give me a brown bag or something?” Adam asked tensely. “I know, it’s a lot to take in,” he told Kevin. “I know it sucks.” A brown bag was put in his hands and he gave it to Kevin. “Breathe into that, okay?”

           Linda’s arms were shaking as she supported Kevin. “Why is this happening?” She gasped. “Just let us go—we won’t tell anyone anything!”

           Adam sighed. He remembered the ghouls, two lifetimes ago. He’d begged them for mercy too. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “They’ll come for you anyways. Being chosen sucks, but the best thing you can do is try to find safe people. We’re safe people, I promise.”

           Linda stared at him. Kevin’s breathing was better; his eyes were still darting around, but he looked calmer. When Adam looked up, Balthazar was standing in the doorway, palms raised.

           “No one in here, human, supernatural, dead or alive,” he reported. “The place is ours.”

           Dean relaxed. “And they’re on their way?”

           Balthazar nodded. He put his fingers to his temples. “They’re making good time. Cas is driving as fast as your car can go. If they absolutely have to they can make a jump here, but with Dri…” his jaw tightened. “Three hours should do it.”

           Dean nodded. “Okay. While we’re waiting we can explore, find places for people to sleep. We can fill everyone in once we’re settled.” He looked apologetically at Linda and Lisa. “Sorry it’s been a bit crazy in the last—”

           “Hour,” Linda supplied. Kevin was leaning against her, his breathing back under control. “It’s been an hour.”

           “Well. Damn.” Dean scratched his head. “Sorry, ma’am. We just had to move fast.”

           “I can see that.” The woman’s face relaxed a bit for the first time. “It’s been pretty crazy on our end for the last few weeks. It’s good there’s some kind of explanation. Even if it’s completely insane.”

           Sam chuckled. “That about sums up our lives, ma’am.”

           Adam held out a hand to Kevin. “Need help up?”

           Kevin took his hand and Adam managed to pull him up. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go check it out.”

           The Bunker was huge; a giant library, a garage full of old cars, dozens of bedrooms, two sets of showers…Adam knew he was going to get lost in here. Kevin seemed to know where he was going, though, and they managed to rejoin the others in the room with the giant table.

           Dean was on the phone. “Babe are you sure you can talk while…yes I know you’re millennia older than me, cars haven’t been around your whole life…has anyone killed each other yet? Meg’s on her best behaviour, right?” He listened for a minute. “How much longer until you get here? Okay, that sounds alright. When you get close call again, I’ll tell you how to drive into the garage. I love you.” He hung up. Linda, Lisa and Ben were grouped together by the bookshelves; Sam was sitting at the table. “Balthazar’s gone for groceries,” he explained. “There’s a sweet kitchen, so we can cook.” He glanced a bit awkwardly at Linda. “So, I guess we’d better get everyone up to speed.”

           “Lisa’s done some explaining,” Linda replied, smiling at Lisa. “It’s…kind of terrifying. She said you were hunters?”

           “Sam and I are,” Dean answered. “We were raised in the life. This isn’t a hunter’s place, though. The Men of Letters…it sounds like they were the Research Big Leagues.”

           Sam nodded. “I glanced through a couple of their books. They stored all the knowledge and parcelled it out to hunters when they needed it. Sort of like what Bobby does.”

           Dean shook his head. “Can you imagine if we’d had access to this kind of information before?”

           “If we had, we probably would have been brought up as Men of Letters ourselves,” Sam said. “We’re legacies. They pretty much kept it in the family.”

           Adam thought of something. “We have a problem.”

           “What?” Kevin asked, scared.

           “Did they know about angels?” Adam asked. “Because Balthazar appeared right in here without a problem.”

           “I heard my name.” Balthazar appeared surrounded by a pile of grocery bags. “You’ve got a good point.”

           “We can’t ward the whole place though,” Dean objected. “Then you guys can’t get in.”

           “And what about Meg?” Adam asked.

           “She doesn’t have to come in,” Dean muttered.

           “Who’s Meg?” Linda asked.

           “Adam’s demon friend.”

           “I don’t know if we’re friends,” Adam said quickly. “She’s just been nice. She helped me and Sam a lot, Dean.”

           Dean grumbled. “Alright, I get your point.”

           Balthazar cocked his head to the side and started walking around the room. He pulled a couple of books off the shelves, stamped on the floor. Finally, he reached up and pulled at thin air. The air was suddenly full of symbols, too many for Adam to get a clear look.

           “Right, these are the wards,” Balthazar said, his face blurred by the sheer number of symbols. “Nice, but a bit overkill. Some of these overlap. Messy, messy…”

           “What can we do?” Sam asked.

           “You can draw in our symbols,” Balthazar replied. “Mine, Cas, all of us. If they’re here, they’ll be recognized as allies. Then we can draw a general angel’s ward.”

           Sam got up. “I can do it.”

           “No blood necessary,” Balthazar said, waving away Sam’s knife. “Just give me your hand, I’ll guide you.”

           Adam watched as the two of them drew lines in the air, symbols that sparked a moment before fading to the same pale silver as the rest.

           “There,” Balthazar said—beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “That ought to do it. As for the demon, she can enter if she’s brought in by a Legacy. You might have to carry her over the threshold, Adam.”

           “I can’t lift her,” Adam protested. “I can barely lift a backpack!”

           “Joking, boy, I was joking,” Balthazar sighed. “Come on, let’s get these bags unpacked.”

           Just as they were finishing the bags, Dean’s phone went off. He immediately left the room, giving Cas directions to the garage entrance. Kevin was hovering between Adam and his mother, still looking a bit owlish. “Don’t worry,” Adam said. “Cas and them have the tablets. Once you’ve got them, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

           “I can feel them,” Kevin murmured. “They’re getting closer. I need to read them. It’s my job.”

           “Okay.” Adam still didn’t totally get the whole business with the tablets, but if Kevin was going to stop shaking when he got them, that was all that mattered.

           Kevin leapt up as Cas and Dean came into the room. Cas was carrying Alfie, who looked a little better. “We’re going to put him down,” Dean explained, carrying three large bags and looking a bit out of breath. “Hannah’s got the tablets.”

           Lisa covered Ben’s eyes, her own wide with pity. “Dean—”

           “He’s doing better, Lis.” Dean couldn’t spare the breath. “I’ll be right back.”

           Bobby and Hannah came in next, Meg lagging behind. Hannah held the bag Balthazar had brought with him when they’d first gotten to Bobby’s place. She made a beeline for Kevin, eyes going wide. “Prophet, I bring you the tablets of the Word.”

           Kevin took the bag with steady hands. “Thank you,” he said, sounding much more confident. He opened the bag and looked inside. “Which one should I read first? There’s…” he rummaged around. “There’s an angel one, a demon one, and…what’s a Leviathan?”

           “Not our problem right now,” Sam said. “Try the angel one first, Kevin.” He’d noticed the change in the kid too. “Kev, you okay?”

           Kevin took out one of the tablets and set it on the table. His eyes were shining as he started reading. “I’m great. This is what I’ve been wanting to do for weeks.”

           Linda stared as her son started focusing intensely on the scribble-covered tablet. “Okay,” she said faintly. “I think I need the full explanation now.”

           “Sure thing,” Dean said, reappearing. “Bal, Hannah, Alfie wants to talk to you. We’ll get some food going, Linda, and we’ll tell you what we know.”

Chapter 24: Softness

            It was early morning when the next vision hit.

           Dean was making breakfast with Lisa while Sam sat at the table doing an inventory of the food Balthazar had brought. When Sam went silent, Dean turned and saw his brother press his lips together, fists clenched.

           “Sammy?”

           Sam took a deep breath and looked up, his eyes wild. “We’re in trouble.”

           “What happened?” Lisa asked sharply.

           “It’s…” Sam shook his head. “Raphael. I saw her, and an angel she called Naomi.”

           Dean froze. “What were they doing?”

           “Naomi persuaded her to put Cas and…and the others on a fugitive list. They’re wanted by Heaven. All the angels have to…they have to hunt them down. Raphael wants them alive, but Naomi’s trying to make her change her mind.”

           Dean closed his eyes.

           “Well, that’s exactly what we fucking needed!” Lisa snapped. She stormed out of the room. Dean heard her running down the hall away from the bedrooms, towards the old storage rooms they’d found.

           Dean winced. “Sammy, can you tell the others? I need to go talk to her.”

           “Sure thing,” Sam promised. He left the room. Dean turned off the burner—cold eggs were better than burnt eggs—and followed.

           He walked slowly, trying to give Lisa a couple minutes to get it together. He found her in a mostly empty room, with only a filing cabinet against the back wall, its drawers open and empty. Lisa was standing in the middle of the room, her hands over her face.

           “Lisa?”

           She turned and Dean’s heart broke. He’d never seen her look so scared. Tears were running down her cheeks, pouring from dull eyes.

           “We’re safe here,” Dean whispered. It was all he could think to say. He shut the door behind him and took a careful step forward. “No one’s going to hurt you. No one’s going to hurt Ben.”

           “I don’t want to be here.” The words were half sobbed, half moaned. “I don’t want any of this.”

           “I know,” Dean answered. Because he did, now, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

           Lisa kept talking, almost like she hadn’t heard him. “I thought I was strong enough. I thought it was great that I knew what was around me, so I could protect my son. And when you came back, and you came into our lives…well, Ben had his dad, and I had you. Even if you weren’t mine anymore, and that was better too. But I—I’m so tired, Dean. So tired of being scared and worried. I don’t want to know anymore about it but I keep asking, I do research on things that keep me up all night—hell, I’m dating an angel—I keep finding ties to a world I don’t want to know anything about, what is wrong with me?!” Her voice had become a shriek, her eyes blank with horror.

           “I don’t want to be here,” she repeated.

           Dean took a careful step forward, wincing as she fell against him. He held her up as she slumped, held her tight as he could, because damn it, he knew. He knew what she meant.

           “I’m so sorry, Lisa.”

           “This isn’t your fault.”

           "I'm sorry anyways," Dean whispered, remembering the day he'd come back to her. "I'm sorry you feel so scared." He took a deep breath. "I might have a way to fix that."

           "What do you mean?" Lisa pulled away, staring at him.

           "Cas...well, it's a long story, but I asked him if it was true that he could erase memories. It is."

           Lisa looked horrified.

           "If you want, he can take away your memories of me. Ben, too. He could hide you away somewhere new, somewhere I wouldn't know about. I'd be out of your lives. You'd be safe, and you wouldn't even remember me." Ben wouldn't know me, he couldn't add. Couldn't say those words out loud.

           "No!"

           Dean was shocked by the violence of her response, as Lisa whacked his shoulders. "Dean Winchester, don't you ever say that again!"

           "I just thought it might help," Dean said weakly, trying to hide his relief.

           "I don't want to hide from the problem," Lisa said, taking a deep breath. "But we have to figure something out. Something for Ben, once this is over."

           "Absolutely," Dean said. "Don't worry, Lis, I know this is his 'legacy' or whatever but he won't be hunting unless he wants to. I swore that to him."

           Lisa nodded. "Good." She stepped away. "We need to have a talk with him together. Go over what we want to do, ask him what he wants."

           "And if he wants to learn about this?" Dean shrugged helplessly. "Lis, we can't just tell him no if this is what he wants."

           "We can until he's eighteen. That's kind of how parenting is supposed to work, Dean. He's not responsible for his own decisions until then."          

           "What if," Dean said slowly, "we tell him that he can't hunt, but if he wants to he can...I don't know, learn about stuff in the Bunker? If Mrs. Ganem was right, Men of Letters weren't fighters, they were providers of knowledge. Kind of what Bobby does. That could be a compromise."

           Lisa tilted her head as she thought. "That could work. And I know he's going to need to know a bit more, to protect him."

           "Being a Winchester seems to get people in trouble," Dean agreed. Even if it's only half."

           Unexpectedly, Lisa kissed him on the cheek. "Being a Winchester is part of what makes our son who he is," she said seriously. "It's what makes his dad a good man. It must have just skipped a generation with your father."

           Dean flushed.

           "We'll figure it out, Dean," Lisa continued. "But when this is over...it's over for me. I don't want to be any more involved than I already am. You can still come and visit, and Balthazar and I...well, we'll see. I know people usually jump in and keep running--look at Jody. But--"

           "It doesn't have to be all or nothing," Dean corrected her, "and you're no coward, Lisa Braeden. I kind of wish I'd been able to get out myself, but I'm in too deep. This is my life. But it doesn't have to be yours. Or Ben's. I'll fight for that forever."

           Lisa hugged him, and Dean held her close. "I love you," he whispered. And he meant it, not the way he meant it for Cas, but for her; for the girl he remembered, the woman who'd borne his child, the woman who kept him connected to a world he couldn't fit in, but he could visit now and then.

           She saved the boy who'd wanted out by giving him hope for his son.

           "Love you too," Lisa replied. She let go. "We'd better go join the talks, huh?"

           "Yeah. Lisa--thank you."

           "You're welcome. Come on."

           There wasn't much they could do about the fugitive list. Balthazar floated the idea of perhaps creating a false trail far away from Kansas, but Linda shot that down. "If they figure it out, you're caught, and even if they do, you'll be trapped away from us. It seems like we need all hands here."

           "Linda's right," Dean agreed. "Hiding out's our best option. We've got plenty of food, and water and power's not an issue. We have some time."

           The meeting ended there, and Dean shooed everyone out of the kitchen. They had a kitchen now, a real kitchen, and he was going to make burgers.

           Sometimes it was the little things that kept you going.

           Sam joined him, cutting up vegetables for the salad Linda had insisted on. The two of them were quiet as they chopped.

           "Lisa seems better," Sam finally said.

           Dean nodded. "She was just worried, man. And I don't blame her. She's putting up with a lot, and the last couple of weeks have been crazy. She's just overwhelmed, but she'll make it. We talked it out and I think she's got a plan for what to do. I'm just really glad she's not going to cut me out of their lives, I'd miss her and Ben too much." He looked to see Sam's puzzled smile. "What?"

           Sam put down his knife. "It's just...you've changed."

           Dean didn't know what to say.

           "It's great," Sam said quickly, "but...well. Before I...before the Cage...you would rather die than have a talk about your feelings with someone. Or be so open about how you feel at all. I noticed it when we first got back--you've been way more openly affectionate. And it's been awesome--I needed that. But I kept expecting it to stop, because you'd eventually think we'd been coddled long enough and you'd pull away. But you haven't, and you've been doing it with other people and I guess...I'm just wondering why."

           Dean had to smile. "You're right," he said. "I mean, it didn't happen over night. But I definitely made an effort to do that."

           "What started it?"

           "Cas." Dean ignored his brother's rolling eyes. "Yeah, I know, real chick flick thing, right? Well...he wouldn't let me get away with hiding how I felt. I couldn't for a long time--I was too messed up by what happened, I couldn't hide anything." Sam winced, and Dean put a hand on his forearm, gripping reassuringly. "Bad or good, everything just kind of spilled out. Even without alcohol."

           "I noticed you haven't been drinking much."

           "Yeah, well...I was an alcoholic. It was past time to stop. I still drink every once in a while, but the need for it's gone."

           "I'm glad."

           "You haven't been drinking much either."

           "I guess I went long enough without it," Sam shrugged. "I don't...like you said, I don't feel like I need it. Maybe someday I'll go back to it."

           "Dude, try wine. That's good drinking."

           "Wine? Really?"

           "That one's on Lisa. She's very picky about her reds." Dean told himself not to flush. There's nothing wrong with drinking wine.

           "I've always liked whites find a better word for that later better." Sam waved his hand. "But I interrupted."

           "Right. Well, I sorta got...well, not okay, but I was starting to feel more like me again. And I started trying to be more like me. I thought I was being weak, and I had to try to be stronger again. I had my kid to worry about, I had a partner—I couldn't keep crying over everything."

           Sam put his hand over Dean's for a second, but he didn't speak. Dean was grateful for that.

           "Anyways, that lasted about a day. Cas was mad at me for not holding his hand, and Ben—he fell off his bike doing a trick and cried. When I told him to man up, he looked at me like he'd done something horrible. He…he drew away from me. And I realized I never wanted to see him look like that again. And I didn't want to stop holding Cas' hand either. I guess I just...I did what I wanted, because if I didn't, it felt worse. And it felt good to say what I felt about people for once." Dean looked up at Sam. "And I'm sorry I ever treated you different. Hell, I'm sorry I ever taught you different."

           "You weren't the only one shoving that down my throat." Sam bit his lip. "And I'm happy for you, Dean. You look happier now. I used to watch you kind of fumble around with people—you could never ask for what you wanted. Can you do that now?"

           "That part's a bit harder, but I'm working on it." Dean sighed. "No one told me going soft was so much work."

           Sam laughed. "You always were a softie, you just tried to hide it.”

           "Was it that obvious?" Dean asked, honestly curious. Cas had, of course, rebuilt his body and mind, carried his soul for seven days; he'd always known what Dean tried to hide. Lisa had just told him that her type was 'tough guys with big hearts', so she'd known too.

           But Sam had been there his whole life, and Dean had tried so hard to be the tough older brother.

           "It was just as obvious as how miserable you were trying to pretend you were something you weren't," Sam replied, his eyes serious. "It...I always hoped you'd find someone that would give you that freedom."

           "Yeah, I'm lucky," Dean answered. He put a hand up, pressed it against the handprint on his shoulder. That reminded him, painfully, of the mark he'd thrown away.

           "Sammy, I'm sorry."

           "What for?" Sam asked.

           "For throwing away the amulet," Dean answered. His brother paled, but he kept going. "I was just...it felt like you didn't care about me anymore. That the little kid who'd given me that present didn't even exist anymore. Why should I try to hold on to something you didn't want?"

           "I don't know why my Heaven was different, Dean," Sam pleaded. "I don't know why it was those moments, of all things.”

           "I do," Dean said quickly. "Cas explained—it was a trick. They were trying to claim that you'd always wanted to escape, that I was a burden on your happiness."

           "I never wanted to escape from you."

           "I know that now." Dean put a hand to Sam's shoulder, felt it shake. "Sammy, we share a Heaven. They just took you out of it. None of those moments are your Heaven. It was the field, with the fireworks."

           Sam's eyes were shining with tears. "I thought that's what it should have been,” he whispered. "That was my happiest memory then."

           "I don't know what it will be now," Dean said slowly, "but no matter what it is, we'll be together." The agony of the day  Raphael had explained the trick, the sorrow in the archangel's voice as he (she'd still been a he then) confirmed that Dean would have had his brother, slammed into him again.

           "Good." Sam cleared his throat.

           "I never should have thrown it away, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I hurt too much to see what it would do. It made me stop believing, and I almost threw the world away."

           Sam was crying now. He put a hand into his jeans pocket, and Dean stared dumbfounded as he pulled out the amulet.

           "I picked it out of the trash when you weren't looking," he confessed. "I...kept it. I didn't want you to throw me away. And I gave it to Bobby before I jumped, and he gave it back a few weeks ago, but I was too scared..."

           Dean stared at the old necklace, and felt something heal, deep down in his soul.

           "Thank you, Sammy. I love it."

           Sam's smile lit up his whole face. He held it out to Dean, and Dean slipped it over his head, felt the familiar weight around his neck. No, not a weight; a bond.

           Sam let out a quiet sob and wrapped his arms around him.  Dean clung to his little brother, felt tears rising in his eyes and let them come. He felt the amulet dig into his heart, the way it always used to do when he hugged someone.

           Maybe someday there'd be a mark there too; an imprint into his skin of his little brother's love.

           Those were the best kind of scars.

Chapter 25: The Pagan At The End of This Book

           Sam stared at the ceiling, blinking hard.

           In the week since they’d arrived at the Bunker, his nightmares had gone way down. Part of it was sheer exhaustion—between exploring the huge space, trying to find out everything they could about the old organization, trying to keep Kevin from staying up until three in the morning reading the tablets (the kid was starting to scare him a bit—he would go into a trance-like state for hours, then leap up, grab the Post-It notes and scribble something down, giggling frantically) …Sam was lucky if he could sleep six hours without some minor crisis.

           The other part, and Sam was a bit ashamed of how childish this was, came from being in the Bunker itself. He felt safe here; had since he’d set foot inside. It was the total opposite of the Cage; the power in the walls welcomed him, sheltered him. The library was stocked with so many interesting books, everyone they cared about was here—with the exception of Jody, who’d taken up residence with Rufus and Donna in Minnesota. The three hadn’t ever met the angels, and there’d been no activity near Jody’s place, so unless there was an emergency there was a general agreement that it was riskier to try to move them.

           So for the most part Sam slept well. He and Adam were even trying to sleep apart for the first time. Their rooms were close, just Dean and Cas’ in between, but it was the first time in one hundred and twenty years they hadn’t curled up together.

           Sam missed it, but they had to try. Try to figure out if they could do something different and not lose their minds.

           And the last three nights, it had been fine. He’d had one short nightmare, but he hadn’t remembered it on waking, and Adam was doing okay.

           But he’d just woken up at two in the morning from a dream that…well, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a blend of bright motel walls, loud yelling in Japanese, and…Asia? Sam could have sworn Asia was involved.

           Groaning, Sam got to his feet and padded to the kitchen, careful not to wake anybody up. Once he was there, he considered the rum Balthazar had brought, but poured himself a glass of juice instead. He downed it in one gulp and leaned his head against the fridge, the cool metal soothing away the feverish heat of the dream.  

           He heard footsteps behind him and whirled around. Kevin stood there, eyes half-closed and head lolling.

           “Weren’t you supposed to go to bed hours ago?” Sam scolded.

           Kevin just stared at him. “Are you the snack fairy?”

           Well. That was definitely on the list of top weirdest questions he’d been asked.

           “No I’m not,” Sam said carefully.

           Kevin nodded, not looking very surprised. “Okay.” He slumped forward. Sam caught him up just before he fell to the ground.

           “What the…” Sam hefted Kevin carefully, pulling the kid onto his shoulder. He stumbled a bit and he cursed; he still wasn’t quite up to his normal strength. Luckily Kevin was light.

           “Sam?”

           Adam stood in the door. “Is Kevin okay?”

           “Just sleep-deprived,” Sam assured him. “I think he stayed up too late again.”

           “Did he eat the apple slices?”

           “What—wait a minute. Are you what he calls the snack fairy?”

  ��        Adam blushed. “He noticed? I didn’t—he wasn’t eating enough, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I just put plates of snacks in front of him when he’s out of it reading that damn tablet.”

           “And you’ve never told him?” Sam tried to keep his voice down as he walked towards Kevin’s room, Adam trailing behind.

           “I didn’t think I had to,” Adam answered. “I mean…it’s not like he needs to know. I just wanted to do something nice for him. That’s all.”

           Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He raised his eyebrows at Adam.

           “What?” Adam fidgeted. “Stop looking at me like that.”

           “You like him,” Sam marvelled.

           “I—shut up! He’ll hear you.”

           Sam jerked his head towards Kevin’s door, and Adam hastened to open it. Sam got to Kevin’s bed just as Adam finished turning back the covers. Sam laid Kevin down, not saying a word as Adam tucked him in.

           Once the door was shut behind them, Sam pointed to the kitchen. Adam shuffled slowly down the hall.

           Sam leaned against the fridge. “Spill, little brother.”

           “I…” Adam winced and rubbed his neck. “I might have a bit…he’s cool, okay?”

           “He is,” Sam agreed, trying not to smile. “So why don’t you tell him?”

           Adam turned away. “I’m too old for him.”

           “Only by a couple of years—”

           “Don’t you mean decades?” The bitterness in Adam’s voice made Sam take a step back. “Oh Ad,” he whispered.

           “Don’t look at me like that! You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

           “Not really,” Sam said honestly. “Relationships...they never end well for me. They’re not exactly high on my ‘What to Do When We’re Out of the Cage’ list.”

           Adam groaned. “I wasn’t thinking about it either! It just…he’s sweet, and funny, and I want to take care of him. But how can I? I can’t really look after myself yet.”

           Sam pulled Adam into a hug, letting his brother lean against him in the same familiar way. “You’re an awesome person,” he whispered. “And you’re hurt. But you’re getting better, I can see it. And just because you’ve been hurt doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve love.”

           “I don’t deserve him,” Adam mumbled. “He’s too…he’s too innocent.”

           “I thought that once too,” Sam admitted.

           “You did?”

           “I…well, Lucifer told you about Jess.” Her name didn’t hurt so much anymore. “I loved her, but I never told her about my past. Almost nothing.”

           “Was that bad?”

           “I didn’t think so then. Now I don’t know.” Sam pulled back. “I didn’t let her make a choice about how she felt. That…that wasn’t great. I’ll never know how she felt about hunting. About that part of me.”

           “This is bigger than that.”

           “It’s still up to him. I’m not saying ask him out, Adam. Don’t push yourself into something you’ll regret. But be honest with him. That’s the best thing you can do if you really care. At least you’ll know.”

           Adam looked up. “Thanks Sam.”

           “No problem. Now go back to bed.”

           Adam started to leave. “Hey, Sam?”

           “Yeah?”

           “Maybe…could you help me start working out? I want to get stronger.”

           Sam smiled. “Sure. Goodnight little brother. Love you.”

           “Love you too,” Adam answered with a yawn as he shuffled back out of the kitchen.

           Sam frowned as he looked at his empty glass. Great, now they had a budding romance to deal with. Possibly two, actually—Meg and Hannah were giving each other funny looks. If they weren’t careful they’d end up in some sort of ‘Dr. Sexy’ spinoff.

           Wait...what?

           Where the hell had that come from? Sam didn’t even watch Dr. Sexy, despite Dean’s efforts. He couldn’t stomach it anymore, not since he was part of it…

           Asia.

           Sam gasped as the dream flashed before his eyes again—scenes from TV land, the 100 days at Mystery Spot, even the motel with the gods…

           Why was he dreaming about that? It had been decades since he’d even thought about the Trickster.

           No. Not the Trickster. Gabriel. The archangel.

           They’d been lucky in the last week—Cas and Balthazar could sense the patrols of angels looking for them, but there’d been no direct summons; nothing. Sam wasn’t naïve, though—it wouldn’t last. The angels would start being more aggressive, try to draw them out. They couldn’t hide in the Bunker forever. They needed a plan. But who could they turn to for help?

           Sam looked around, startled to find himself in the library. He didn’t remember moving…

           Still in a dreamlike state, Sam wandered among the shelves. The catalogue was incomplete, but he’d noticed a general pattern; topics like shifters and Wendigos were closer to the front, while more abstract books were towards the back. At the very back shelf, he stopped and examined the books, starting to feel more worried. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he noticed a book entitled simply ‘On Purgatory.’

           Sam took it down, opening it. In the dim light coming from the hall he could make out text—Latin—and a few ink pictures. Sam sank into a chair and flicked a lamp on.

           The book was mostly speculation, but there were points that made Sam wince. The Mother of All was described, and the picture entitled Leviathan was disturbingly accurate to his hallucinations. Flipping through, Sam tried to shake off the feeling that he was getting into dangerous territory. Why go poking at false memories?

           Then his gaze fell on a page describing the inhabitants of Purgatory.

           This land is haunted by the remnants of all creatures unclean and monstrous. There are three kinds—those born human and turned; those born monstrous and have the shape of humanity; and those that have no claim on humanity at all—the false gods, made mortal by a hunter’s weapon. Trapped in Purgatory by the Lord, they cannot cross the border alone. Only a child of Man may bring them across; but this is forbidden.  

           The book fell out of Sam’s hands.

           A minute later he was shaking Dean awake. Dean groaned as he batted him away, curling against Cas. “Sammy, what is it? Knock it off—”

           “Dean, I think I know how to stop Raphael!”

Chapter 26: The Trials of Dimension Hopping

          “So let me get this straight,” Dean said.

           “No, only Sam can do that,” Adam joked. He’d heard Sam running down the hall and followed, now curled at the foot of Dean and Cas’ bed. Cas was in the library, checking the Purgatory book.

           Dean glared at him. “Big talk from you, Daffy. Now, Sam…you think that it’s a good idea to bring the Trickster back to life?”

           “No.” Sam tried to keep his temper. “I’m saying bringing Gabriel, the archangel back might be our best chance.”

           “He was never our biggest fan,” Dean pointed out. “And it’s not exactly like we can control him.”

           “We don’t need him to like us,” Sam said. “We need to ask him if he can intervene with Raphael. I don’t know the birth order, but he is another archangel. He’s at least equal in pull, and that might be enough to get Raphael to listen to Cas.”

           “And what about Cas?” Dean’s eyes were worried. “Sammy, I don’t know whether he and the others…if Gabriel raised them…”

           “How they’ll feel?” Sam finished. “I don’t know, Dean. Honestly I don’t. But I’ll tell you one thing, Purgatory doesn’t look fun. And if my vision’s right—”

           “Why are you having visions all of a sudden, again?” Dean demanded. “You haven’t been…drinking anything, have you?”

           Sam flinched.

           “Sorry,” Dean said hurriedly. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

           “Doesn’t matter.” Sam bit his lip. “Look, Dean, we’ve got to ask them. This might be our best shot.”  

           “Sam is right.” Cas stood in the doorway, the book under his arm. “We’d better get my nest-mates and Meg; we need to plan a trip to Purgatory.”

           “You want to go to Purgatory?” Hannah said incredulously.

           Samandriel still couldn’t walk right, so they’d brought the midnight party to him. Balthazar and Hannah look exhausted; their Grace was draining from being cut off from Heaven, but they insisted on trying to heal Samandriel as much as they could. From the gray tint of Samandriel’s face, it wasn’t doing much good.

           “Sam believes Gabriel might be there,” Cas replied, “and I think he’s right.”

           No one spoke for a long minute. Finally…

           “So?”

           “Balthazar!” Hannah cried. “Do not speak like that!”

           “Why shouldn’t I? He can’t be there anyways, he’s an archangel. Don’t interrupt me, Cas.” Balthazar looked genuinely angry, and Sam carefully moved so that he was in front of Adam. “And even if he is there, why would he help us? He never did before!”

           “He died defending Dean and Sam,” Cas answered quietly. “He died for humanity.”

           “After thousands of years of hiding among the pagans! We thought he was dead, Cas; dead! Don’t you remember how long Anna and I searched?”

           Cas closed his eyes. “I remember. But brother, they’re right. Gabriel is the only one who can stand up to Raphael. He’s the only one she’ll respect.”

           “Isn’t Gabriel younger?”

           “He’s still an archangel. Rank is everything to Raphael.”

           “And if they are mated now, she won’t listen to a word against Naomi,” Hannah put in. “Not unless…”

           “Yes, alright.”  Balthazar’s gaze was stormy. “Fine. But I’m not forgiving him.”  

           “No one’s asking you to, Bal,” Alfie said.

           “As far as Gabriel being in Purgatory,” Sam said, trying to cover the awkward silence, “he was also a pagan god. Like you said, Balthazar, that went on for thousands of years. It might be enough to tie him there rather than…wherever angels go when they die.”

           “It’s worth a shot,” Dean said. “Now I guess we’ve just got to make the jump.”

           “That won’t be easy,” Meg pointed out.

           “I thought Purgatory was inaccessible,” Sam said, frowning.

           “In the sense that people are not permitted,” Cas replied, “but there are ways in. There is a route for angels, and I believe that there is one for demons too, but there are clearance issues—there must be permission from the highest authority to go in.”

           “And who wants to even go?” Meg added. “There is a demon door, but there’s no point in going in. They show you a glimpse in demon orientation class, but it’s not that interesting. There’s enough monsters on Earth if that’s your fetish.”

           “So the highest authority in Heaven—”

           “Is technically Michael,” Cas said with a frown. “He was entrusted with that duty, and Raphael did not receive the key when he Fell. For Hell I suppose it would be Crowley.”

           “Well, lucky for us, we have the King of Hell on speed dial,” Dean said, taking out his phone.

           “Hold on.” Meg grabbed his phone. “Before you call anyone…what are we going to do if this doesn’t work?”

           A silence fell.

           “The same thing we’ve been doing,” Cas replied. “Continue to bang our heads against the wall. Sam’s dream is the first lead we’ve had in ages.”

           “Why the hell are you dreaming?” Meg asked. “Kevin’s the prophet, and your powers died with my dad.”

           “For the hundredth time, I don’t know!” Sam spat. “But my dream about Kevin was right. Maybe it’s left over from the Cage; Lucifer sure as Hell used enough of his Grace on me!”

           Meg snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry,” she muttered.

           “Whatever the source of the visions, they seem benign for now,” Hannah said. “I think we should follow this lead.”

           Dean took his phone back from Meg. “Well, here goes nothing.” He dialled and hit speaker phone.

           “Squirrel. Why are you calling at three in the morning?”

           “Squirrel?” Adam mouthed to Sam. Sam shook his head, fighting a smile. Dean was blushing furiously.

           “Demons don’t sleep,” he spat. “I need permission from you.”

           “Is this some sort of roleplay? Because frankly—”

           “We need to get into Purgatory.”

           “What? Why do you want to go to that dump? Got a bet with your brothers?”

           Sam shook his head, but Dean was already talking. “Never mind why. Can we go?”

           “Depends on who ‘we’ is. Seems like Heaven’s after quite a few of your buddies, Dean. I can’t have fugitives crossing willy-nilly through Hell. Which, by the way, is your only way to get into Purgatory.”

           Dean looked at Cas. “Can you have one fugitive?”

           There was a pause. “One will do. I suppose that’s your boytoy?”

           “He’s my mate, asshole. And yeah. It’ll just be him and me.”

           Sam went pale.

           “…I suppose I can do that. I’ll do you one better, and send a Reaper to guide you through. That’ll cover your angel’s scent.”

           “Done. How soon?”

           “Two days?”

           “I’ll see you then.” Dean hung up, and the room erupted into protest.

           “You two are not going alone!”

           “What are you thinking?”

           “Do you have any idea how dangerous Purgatory is?”

           “Shut up!” Dean yelled.

           Sam clenched his jaw. “Dean…”

           “Sammy, listen. We’re not going conquering, alright? We’re looking for one errant archangel/pagan god, and we’re out. Having too many people’s probably a bad idea anyways.”

           “I can protect Dean, Sam,” Cas promised. “He and I have hunted frequently in the past year.”

           “And I’m in no shape to go anyways,” Sam said bitterly.

           “That is not your fault, and you know it,” Cas said sharply. “You are nearly back to your full strength Sam. Even if you were, I agree with Dean. Two is probably enough.”

           Balthazar scowled. “And if I don’t want you gallivanting off to Purgatory, Cas, then what?”

           “I will likely still go,” Cas answered. “You and Hannah need to stay here and look after Dri. I will return.”

           “And if you don’t?” Balthazar’s jaw worked. “Tell me, little brother, how am I supposed to live with that?”

           Cas’ smile was sad. “Know that I had to go, Balthazar. That I am trying to protect our family. That is all I can say.”

           Balthazar closed his eyes. “I hate this.”

           “It’s the best plan we have,” Meg said. “Other than a frontal assault of Heaven’s troops, and that never ends well.”

           “Why don’t…” Sam cleared his throat. Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut? “Why don’t we sleep on it? We’ll regroup in the morning. We have two days.”

           That was the only thing everyone could agree on.

           The next morning Sam was shaken awake. Cas’ eyes were wide. “Sam, wake up! We have a problem!”

           “What? What’s wrong?”

           “Gabriel’s vessel.”

           “Yeah. You buried it. Can’t you…re-form it?”

           “That isn’t the problem.” Cas stared at him, and Sam felt his stomach sink.

           “Kali’s blood spell.”

           Cas nodded. “We need to find him a new vessel.”

Chapter 27: Wanted: Itty Bitty Living Space

          “So how do we find a vessel?” Dean asked. They were gathered around the table in the main entrance.

           “The easiest way is to look at the vessel scrolls in the Hall of Records in Heaven,” Cas said. “But Heaven is closed to us, so…”

           Balthazar fidgeted.

           Cas groaned. “Damn it, Balthazar…”

           “What?” Balthazar tried to look innocent as he pulled a scroll out of his jacket pocket. “It wasn’t when I was with you.”

           “You need help, brother,” Hannah said. “Stealing is wrong.”

           “Borrowing,” Balthazar corrected. “I always put things back. I just…don’t always ask first. Now, let’s have a look.”

           Balthazar spread the vessel scroll out on the table. Dean groaned. “Are you serious?” The tree was huge, with dozens of branching paths.

           “We only need to look at the bottom rows, calm down Dean.” No nickname. Balthazar was focused. He traced the bottom row. “It looks like there are seven people still alive.”            “That’s it?” Dean was thunderstruck.

           “You, Ben and Adam are the only living members of Michael’s line. Believe me, we checked.”

           “Guess it’s no guarantee of a long life.”

           Balthazar didn’t reply. “One of them is eighty-seven, that’s too old. This one—no, she’s pregnant, she can’t consent. These three are infants, same problem. Then—oh, never mind.” The name flashed red. “He just died.”

           “So we’ve got one option left?”

           Balthazar nodded. He snapped his fingers and Sam’s laptop appeared in front of him. “Her name is Celeste Middleton. She was born in Kansas, so that’s a good start.”

           Sam snatched the laptop back and started typing. “What year was she born in?”

           “1985.”

           “Okay, she’s…” Sam’s shoulders slumped. “She’s off the grid.”

           “How? She’s what, twenty-six?”

           Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure she’s still alive. Her parents were in a drunk driving accident—the other driver was never caught. Her father died, her mother’s in a coma. She was twelve. She didn’t have any relatives, so she went into foster care…but she slipped through the cracks. No one’s seen her in ten years.”

           “Is there a picture?” Dean asked. “We might be able to trace her through that. We know she’s alive.”

           Sam hit a few keys, then went gray. “Dean…”

           Dean came around and looked at a picture of a teenager with long, bright red hair, cheerful clothes and heartbreak in her eyes. “Sammy, what is it?” The girl was a stranger to him.

           He heard a gasp from next to him, completely surprised to see it was Kevin. “That’s Charlie!”

           Stunned, Dean looked at Sam. “Sammy, is this the girl…”

           Sam nodded. He looked sick. “That’s her. She must have changed her name.”

           Dean turned to Kevin. “Well? How do you know her?”

           “We play Moondor online sometimes. She goes by Queen of Moons, but we’ve done some emailing outside of the chat rooms. She’s nice.”

           “She your girlfriend?”

           Kevin looked at him completely seriously. “She’s twenty-six and a lesbian; I’m seventeen and asexual. You want to tell me how that’d work out?”

           Dean threw his hands up. “It was just a question. Could you email her?”

           “I guess. What do you want me to tell her? ‘Oh hi, guess what, magic’s real, it kinda sucks, and you’re an archangel’s vessel?’ That might be too much for email.”

           “He’s got a point,” Adam said. “Do you know where she is, Kev? Maybe we could go and talk to her.”

           Kevin motioned for the laptop and Adam passed it to him. “I can email her and ask if she wants to meet up IRL. Even if she says no…I guess I can track her.” He looked unhappy.

           “No one’s getting forced into anything, Kevin,” Dean promised him. “We’ll ask her if she wants to help, and if she doesn’t, I can do it.”

           “You’re not doing that,” Sam said immediately.

           “Why not? I’m an archangel’s vessel, one’s as good as another, right?”

           Cas put his hands very firmly on Dean’s shoulders. “You. Are not. Doing that.”

           Dean ducked his head. “Alright Cas.”

           Cas kissed the side of his neck. “Good.”

           Sam and Adam were staring with identical looks of pure horror.

           “Shut up,” Dean snapped. “Kevin, write the damn email. Please,” he added when he caught Linda’s glare.

           Six hours later, right when Dean was starting to think about what to make for dinner, Kevin’s laptop chimed. The kid’s head was about two inches from the tablet, and he didn’t even flinch when Dean pulled the laptop towards him.

           It was from Charlie.

           Hi Kevin!

           Wow, you’re out of school early. Wish I went to school in Michigan. Wait…now I’m remembering high school (shudders). Nope, I’d rather face that Doom Squad we took down last year again. In the rain.

           Anyways, I’m actually in that neck of the woods; I’m staying in Topeka for a book launch, so if you’re in the area in the next week or so we can totally hang out! I’ve missed you, buddy. Just give me a shout when you’re close; I’m staying with a friend who isn’t too big on house cleaning.

                                                                                            Live long and prosper, 

                                                                                                                   Charlie

           Dean glanced up at Cas. “Guess that settles it.”

           Cas nodded. “Can you wake Kevin out of that trance? He should reply, after all.”

           “Then I guess we’d better get ready for Purgatory,” Dean said. “Sam’s been doing research with Linda and Bobby, I’m sure they’ve come up with some tips.”

           “Dean…if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

           “Cas.” Dean took Cas’ face in his hands. “I know three things right now. One, you want your big brother back and we need to fight, so two birds, one stone. Two, there is no way I’m letting either of my little brothers or my dad go to another dimension.”

           “And the third?” Cas’ eyes brightened. “You’re irrevocably in love with me?”

           “I knew you and Lis doing that book was a bad idea,” Dean groaned. He kissed Cas. “Well, yeah, that, and I’m not letting you go alone. We’re going to Purgatory, they’ll be okay until we get back, and this will be over.”

           “You’re much more optimistic these days,” Cas murmured.

           “Yeah, well…maybe I’m just happier.” Dean kissed Cas again, closing his eyes as Cas sat on his lap. They really hadn’t had much time for this…

           “Uh…guys?”

           Crap.

           “Sorry Kevin,” Dean apologized.

Chapter 28: To Purgatory To Go

           Adam clung to Dean for a long time, so long Dean was worried he’d never let go. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

           “We’re going to be fine,” Dean answered. “C’mon, we won’t be gone long enough for you to miss us.”

           He and Cas were ready to go; laden down with weapons, food and first aid, the Reaper was due to meet them by noon. Once they were gone, the others were going to get Charlie.

           Dean figured he should be scared, but he was kind of excited. A whole land of monsters? What would that look like?

           Then he looked over to Ben, who was fighting not to cry, and remembered that this wasn’t going to be easy for anyone. They were search and retrieve, not adventure.

           Adam finally let him go. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.”

           Dean tried to smile, worry creeping in. He hadn’t left his brothers alone in the month they’d been back, not once. Could they handle this?

           “Dean, I literally just said we’ll be fine! Can you wait like five minutes before you start brother henning?”

           Dean chuckled. “Alright kid.” He turned and got his breath knocked out by a very upset twelve-year-old. “Whoa, buddy. I’ll be home soon. Be good for your Mom okay?”

           Ben didn’t answer.

           “Ben?”

           Ben looked up, gulping back tears. “I just never…I’m never scared for you.”

           Dean didn’t know what to say.

           “When you leave, I know it’s dangerous, but you never act like it is, and I can sort of forget I might not see you again.” Ben took a big gulp. “And I know Cas is going with you, and you’re a great fighter, but…Dad, you’ve gotta come home, okay? I want you to come home.”

           Dean pulled his kid close, feeling sixteen again. Ben was tall enough to be Sam at twelve, scared of the shadows, scared of being alone. Dean couldn’t stay then. It killed him that he couldn’t stay now. But someone had to go, and he had the best chance of coming home.

           “Ben, listen to me.” Dean leaned down so he could speak in Ben’s ear. “I will never stop fighting to get back to you, okay? Cas is with me, we’ll be meeting up with someone much more powerful than both of us (I hope I hope) and…Ben, I’ll always love you, okay? I don’t need to be with you for that to be true.”

           Ben sobbed. “Don’t say that…”

           Dean sighed, rocking back and forth. “Buddy, please don’t worry. I want you to know that no matter if I’m right in front of you or at the store or…in another dimension. Part of me is always here with you. Okay?”

           “Does it hurt?” Ben asked. “Missing a part?”

           “Sometimes,” Dean admitted. “But I’d rather let you have a piece of me than not have you.” How could he ever have offered Lisa forgetfulness? It would kill him to lose Ben.

           Ben stepped away abruptly. “Okay, Dad,” he said. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “I’ll take care of me and Mom, and you take care of you, okay?”

           Dean ruffled his son’s hair. “Sounds good.” He lowered his voice. “Try to cheer Balthazar up a bit, okay? He likes Celine Dion.”

           Ben brightened. “Got it!” He dashed off, stopping to give Cas a brief hug as he came out of the Bunker. Cas’ eyes were red, but he managed a smile as he touched Ben’s head. “Be good, child. I will miss you.”

           “I’ll miss you too,” Ben said. “Come home soon, okay?”

           Cas nodded solemnly and let the boy go. Dean took his hand. “How are they?”

           “Worried.” Cas had been saying good-bye to his nest mates. “Dri is particularly distressed. He believes all of this to be his fault.”    

           “Well that’s bullshit.”

           “I told him so.” Cas smiled. “Balthazar managed to distract him with that; he was still explaining why certain kinds of feces were worse than others when I left.”

           “You’re a good brother,” Dean said.

           “I still have much to learn,” Cas answered. “But I am trying.”

           Sam came out of the Bunker and Dean’s heart turned over. This goodbye was going to be worse. It wasn’t that Adam or Ben or any of the rest of their motley crew were less important. Sam was always different. Always would be.

           He couldn’t help but be relieved when Sam headed towards the Impala. The goodbye could be put off for a bit longer.

           “You coming for the drive Sammy?”

           Sam looked back at him. “You realize someone has to drive back to the Bunker, right?”

           “…Yeah, I knew that.”

           “No you didn’t.”

           “Yes I did, bitch!”

           Dean stomped over to the car, holding Cas’ door before he moved to the driver’s side. He got in and glared at Sam in the rear-view.

           “No you didn’t,” Sam said slowly. “Jerk.”

           Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but be grateful.

           The Reaper was going to meet them in a field about a mile from the Bunker. This put them just outside the main reach of the wards, but it still left some cover(they hoped) from the God Squad. Dean parked Baby at the edge and the three of them walked to the middle. Crowley had said about noon when Dean called that morning, so they were a little late. Good.

           Sam had his hands in his pockets, biting his lip as Dean checked Cas’ gear, then his own, trying to avoid his brother’s eyes. “We’re good,” he announced.

           “Wait, Dean.” Sam took off running back to the Impala.

Dean stared at Cas, bemused. “We’ve got everything we need, don’t we?”

           Sam returned a minute later, out of breath and carrying…toilet cleaner?

           “It has borax in it,” Sam explained, putting it in Dean’s hands. “I know…I know it might not work, but just take it? Just in case?”

           Dean took the bottle in his hands. “Okay, Sammy.” He slipped it into his coat pocket. “Don’t worry. We’ll find Gabriel and get the hell out of Purgatory. You go get Charlie.”

           Sam nodded. For a second Sam looked just as fragile as he had the first few days out of Hell, when he’d gotten frantic whenever Dean was out of his sight.

           “Hey,” Dean said quietly. “I’ve got Cas. We’ll be fine.”

           Sam nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

           Dean hugged him. “Be back soon, okay? I promise. Take care of Adam and Ben while I’m gone.”

           Sam’s arms were too tight around his shoulders, and he could feel his brother trembling head to foot. “You’re coming back,” he said at last.

           “Yes.” Dean released him. “Stay in the Bunker as much as you can. I’ve got lots of food made, you should be fine.”

           Sam smiled. “You sound like you’re going on some kind of couple’s trip.”

           Dean put an arm around Cas’ waist. “Well…I guess you could think of it like that.”

           “Dean, this is not a romantic trip. Have no illusions about that.”

           Sam laughed. “Take care, Cas. Watch out for Leviathans.”

           “We will. Watch out for my nest-mates. And do not let Meg in the kitchen again.”

           “Wait—when was she in my kitchen?!”

           Cas was saved from answering that by Dean’s phone. He flipped it open. “Crowley? Yeah, we’re here. Just outside of Lebanon.” He listened a minute. “Sounds good.” Hanging up, he tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his coat. “Crowley says the Reaper’s on his way.”

           “I’m afraid the King is a little behind the times.”

           Sam spun around. A young man with a thick beard and dead eyes was staring at them.

           “Who are the two going to Purgatory?”

           Dean tried not to shudder. The voice sounded like slamming doors, coffins being buried…endings. All endings. “That’s us,” he said, holding Cas’ hand.    

           The Reaper nodded. “An angel and a hunter walk into Purgatory. It sounds like a bad joke.”

           Cas narrowed his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

           “I beg your pardon?”

           “Crowley isn’t your master, what has he promised you?”

           The Reaper bared his teeth. “He sent out a group email saying whatever Reaper volunteered got to escort the next soul train to Hell.”

           “There’s a soul train to Hell?”

           “Not everyone who’s in Hell makes a deal. Some of them go the old fashioned way.” The Reaper smiled. “I like that patrol.”

           Dean did shudder that time. Cas gripped his hand tightly.

           “How long do you need?” the Reaper asked.

           Dean looked at Cas, who nodded. “Three days should do it.”

           “Good. Then I will come and get you in three days. Do you want to be dropped off here?”

           “Yes,” Dean said curtly. Since when were Reapers tour guides? “Please,” he added.

           The Reaper stepped forward. “Give me your hands.”

           Dean looked back at Sam. “See you soon, Sammy.” That had always made Sam smile as a kid; he’d liked all the s’s. Even now it made his lips twitch, and that was enough.

           The Reaper gripped their free hands; his flesh papery and cool, and said a single word that made Dean’s hair stand on end.

           There was a bright flash, and the world imploded.

           When Dean opened his eyes, they were standing in a gray, drab forest. Dean let go of Cas’ hand and went for his knife. There were eyes watching them; he could feel them.

           “Stay close, Dean,” Cas said. His voice was even, but his blade was in his hand, a gun in the other.

           The Reaper bared his teeth again. “Have fun.” He disappeared.

           Dean swore, his eyes flicking around. “Where are we going to go, Cas? Which way?”

           Cas pressed his back against Dean’s. “I’m not sure.”

           “What?!”

           “I thought I’d be able to sense him.” His mate’s voice was bleak. “I think I can…but it’s too faint. I can’t tell a direction.”

           “So we have three days to just strip-search this entire dimension?” Dean’s whole body was tense, listening to the faint rustling. There was definitely something there. “Should we ask for directions?”

           Cas jabbed his elbow into Dean’s back. “This isn’t funny!”

           Three tall women leapt out from the trees directly in front of them. Their teeth were bared like the Reaper’s, but they were sharper, a mouth full of knives. Vampires. Dean gulped when two…things, sort of humanoid but skinless, joined the vampires, flanking them. Shifters.

           Maybe we’re not going to get out of here.

           Dean stamped that thought down furiously. They had to get of here. But first they had to even the odds.

           “There’s an opening in the trees over there,” Cas whispered. “There are no monsters that way.”

           “Got it,” Dean watched the trees. “Now!”

           Rushing through the trees, Dean felt his breathing pick up, far beyond what it should be. There was something wrong with this place, something deeply alien. You do not belong.

           You will die here.

           One of the vampires leapt in front of them, blocking their path. Without pausing, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, yanked him out of the way, and lopped the vampire’s head off. The body collapsed to the ground. A shriek went up in the trees around them, high and piercing, and there was an answering chorus of branches breaking.

           The next few moments were a blur of fighting Dean had never experienced before. The monsters just kept coming; it was all he could do to keep up with the different kinds. He managed to grab a silver machete—sometimes Balthazar came in handy—from his bag, which dealt with the shifters and vamps, but then there was a banshee Cas smote, and a ghoul, and—

           Dean couldn’t hold back a scream when an ordinary looking man threw his head back and his mouth…his mouth became his head, a horrible snake-like tongue waving among shark-like teeth.

           Leviathan. Sam’s inability to describe the creatures fully made sense now.

           Before Dean could think through what would happen if this didn’t work, he took out the bottle Sam had given him, unscrewed the top and splashed the freak with it. The Leviathan howled, and Dean swung his machete, cutting the head off. The body laid there, and Dean grinned.

           “Clean up your act,” he spat. He turned and his smile faded. “Cas!”

           Across the clearing Cas was duelling with a rugaru, his back to a tree in which a werewolf crouched. He turned to Dean, and the werewolf leapt down—and someone else stopped it.

           A man in a black coat took the wolf down, the two of them rolling and snarling. Cas stabbed the rugaru and went to help his rescuer, but the werewolf lay still under the new man.

           Dean rushed to Cas’ side, his blade still handy. “Cas, are you okay?”

           Cas was breathing heavily, his trench coat torn. “Dean, stay back!” He was pointing his blade at their rescuer. Confused by Cas’ rudeness, Dean swallowed when the man stood, his pointed teeth still bared.

           Dean raised his blade and the vampire put his hands up. “Easy brother. We don’t gotta fight.” The vamp’s skin was unusually tan, his voice a Cajun drawl.

           “Oh yeah?” Dean glanced around the clearing at the dead bodies. The forest was quiet again, but Dean could still feel watching eyes. “Seems your pals think otherwise.”

           The vampire shrugged. “I’m more curious as to why a hunter and a—what the hell are you? You’re glowing like a beacon.”

           “I’m an angel of the Lord.” Cas put himself between the vampire and Dean. “My name is Castiel. If you harm my mate it will be the last name you ever hear.”

           The vampire chuckled and took another step back. “An angel, huh? Never thought they were real. What are you doing here? Some kind of hunter’s honeymoon?”

           Dean couldn’t help cracking a smile. “I dunno, we were thinking about it, but the hotels are nasty.”

           The vampire laughed. “Well I’ll tell you, the restaurant scene’s bad too. You’re better off bringing your own food.”

           Cas was staring at Dean like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. What the hell was he doing, joking with a vampire in Purgatory? But he’d saved Cas.

           “We’re looking for someone,” Cas said coldly. “Another angel.”

           The vampire shook his head. “No angels here. Like I said, you’re bright as all hell; there’s no way there’s another one of you hiding.”

           Dean’s heart sank. “You sure?” he asked. “He’s kinda tiny. Blonde, weird gold eyes, huge thing for candy—”

           The vampire’s face cleared. “What the hell do you want with Tricky?”

           “Tricky.” Only his Cas could say that with a straight face.

           “Yeah, Tricky. He’s kinda weird, but I didn’t think he was an angel.”

           “Neither did I,” Dean muttered. Cas glared at him. “Sorry, babe.”

           “I know where he is,” the vampire went on. “I can take you to him, if you like.”

           “And what are you getting out of this…” Cas trailed off.

           The vamp grinned. “Name’s Benny. And as for what I want…well, you’ve got a way out, right?”

           “Yes,” Cas said.

           “Then take me with you.”

           “Why, so you can suck down some humans?” Dean snapped.

           “No. I just hate it here.” Benny stared at them. “This place ain’t exactly Paradise. It’s non-stop fighting, day in, day out. So I’ll take you to the angel, but I want out. You can track me or tie me up—you can do what you like. But I walk.”

           Dean thought it over. One more vampire wouldn’t be such a problem. Besides, there was something in his eyes that looked sincere. “What would you do, Benny, if you could go back and be human?”

           Benny looked surprised, but his eyes softened. “I’d head back to New Orleans. It’s where I’m from. I’d like to look up my family, see if I’ve got any kin still living. And I’d open a restaurant. I make a mean gumbo. I still remember how.”

           Dean smiled. “Take us to Gabriel—uh, Tricky. You’re on.”

Chapter 29: All Hail The Queen

           Once he got back to the Bunker, Sam sat down and took a deep breath. “Alright, we’d better get going. It’s me , Kevin…Adam, you want to come?” Adam nodded. “Then I guess it’s us three.”  

           “Can I come too?” Meg moaned. “I need out of this hole.”

           “You can leave any time you like, demon,” Balthazar said pleasantly.

           “Well then I want to leave and get this girl.”

           Sam glanced at Adam, who nodded. “Alright. The four of us will go. We should be back in a few hours. If something goes wrong, we’ll call.”

           “Check in even if things are fine,” Linda instructed. “We don’t want to sit here worrying.”

           Once everyone was in the Impala, Sam began the drive to Topeka.

           As he drove he wondered about Charlie. Was she anything like the girl Lucifer had shown him? She’d seemed pretty cool. It made sense, now, why Lucifer had found her at all. She was his little brother’s vessel.

           Sam managed to contain his shudder. For the few hours he’d spent sharing a body with Lucifer, he’d been unable to escape the archangel’s own memories. Pressed together, unbearably close, Sam saw Gabriel die. He’d felt Lucifer’s pain at the memory, felt his desperate efforts to push it down. Eventually, he’d felt it on his own body as Lucifer tried to carve deep enough into Sam’s soul to deflect his own pain.

           Would Gabriel help them, after all that? He’d been murdered by his brother; it was Sam’s fault that he was free to do it. Sam prayed that Gabriel would think of the angels he’d raised, ignore the fact that this would also benefit the Winchesters. Despite what Balthazar said, he knew they wanted their nester back.

           But if Charlie didn’t cooperate…and why should she? Sam knew better than anyone except Adam how awful being a vessel could be. Even Cas, who was quite mindful of humans in general…hadn’t Jimmy Novak described possession as being tied to a comet? He wasn’t going to lie to Charlie. But would she help when she was told the truth?

           When they finally got to Topeka, Sam pulled over. “Okay, she sent you directions, right?”

           Kevin nodded, holding up his phone. Sam took it, squinting at the map. “That’s not far from here.” He saw Kevin flinch. “Kevin, you know we wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

           “I know,” Kevin mumbled. “But I don’t like it.”

           “I don’t either,” Sam answered. “This is a lot to ask of anyone. You already know that from being a prophet.”

           Kevin shrugged. “At least I get to keep my mind.”

           Adam put his arm around him. “Kev, we’re not going to make her do anything. Okay? I promise. She says no, we’re out the door.”

           Kevin looked up at Adam. “What if she hates me for this? I don’t…I don’t exactly have a lot of friends.”

           “I’m sure she won’t,” Adam reassured him. “If anything she’s going to hate us.”

           “You don’t deserve to be hated either!”

           Sam glanced over at Meg. Can you believe them? He mouthed. The demon just shook her head. “Let’s get moving,” she snapped. “Clock’s ticking, that sort of thing.”

           Charlie was staying at a small house about ten minutes from the city centre. Sam parked a block away Meg was pretty sure no one was following them but Sam wasn’t taking any chances. The Impala was an awesome car, but she stuck out like a sore thumb in this quiet neighbourhood.

           Kevin led the way, looking nervously over his shoulder every so often. Sam tried to look encouraging, but he was busy looking around. He still wasn’t sure that they’d managed to avoid detection by the angels, but Kevin insisted he couldn’t feel any.

           The house turned out to be a small, kinda shabby place with a tiny yard. It looked loved, though, and Sam felt like the people who lived there were cheerful, paid their taxes early and baked cookies for the elderly.

           Which meant it really shouldn’t have surprised him when the door opened and Garth came out.

           Sam had met Garth a few years before; Lucifer had plucked the cheerful hunter right out of his few good memories from their year of looking for Dad. From what Dean had said, he’d thought the hunter was still active. How did he have a house?

           “Sam?!” Garth beamed and rushed down. “What are you doing here? Charlie said she was expecting someone, I didn’t realize you knew her!”

           “Garth?” Sam managed not to flinch as the hunter threw his arms around him. “Hi, man, good to see you.” He pointed behind him. “That’s Kevin. He’s Charlie’s friend. We came along for the ride and to...talk to her about something else. This is my brother Adam, and …”

           “I’m Meg.” The demon rolled her eyes.

           Still beaming, Garth drew back and looked at Adam. “Wow, he looks like you.”

           “Do you really think so?”

           “Oh yeah, totally.” Garth’s face fell. “Oh God, Sam, how are you two?”

           “You…heard about what happened?” Sam asked carefully.

           Garth nodded, his eyes solemn. “Dean didn’t call, but Rufus did. How are you doing? Can I do anything to help?”

           Sam couldn’t help smiling. “I think we’re doing okay as far as…well, that. But it might help if you could convince Charlie to listen to us and not freak out.”

           “It’s hunting stuff? Sam, I think you got your wires crossed. Charlie-girl’s no hunter.”

           “She might not be, but she’s about to get an introduction to that world,” Meg said grimly. “Speaking of which, you got demon traps?”

           “Of course,” Garth said reassuringly.

           Meg’s eyes flashed black. “You might wanna take them down.”

           Garth took a step back. “Sam?”

           “It’s okay,” Adam promised. “She’s helped us a lot. She’s on our side.”

           Garth looked between Meg and Sam. “You sure? No…”

           “This isn’t Funkytown, Garth,” Sam promised. He knew Garth would know what it meant; he’d come up with the phrase.

           Garth’s expression cleared. “Alright. Better give me a second.” He went back to the porch. He reached up on tiptoe and pulled out a knife, scraping away some blue paint. “Right, that should do it.”

           Sam glanced at Kevin. “You better go first, Kevin.”

           “Yeah, c’mon, kid!” Garth beckoned. “Charlie’s been looking forward to seeing you.”

           Kevin swallowed hard, but he followed Garth inside. Sam waited a second and heard a girl shriek “Solo! Wow you’re so much shorter than I thought you were!” Her voice was the same, and he pressed his thumb against a non-existent scar.

           Adam looked up at him. “You gonna be alright?”

           “I don’t have a choice,” Sam answered. “I just…I can do this.” He crossed the yard, Adam and Meg on his heels.

           The house was indeed messy, clothes and bags strewn through the hall, piles of books scattered around, some on tables and some not. It was a cheerful sort of messy; the inhabitants were clearly busy having fun, and what was a little mess?

           The living room was strewn with cloth, more books, a few stacks of DVDs and an old sewing machine. Kevin was sitting on the couch with a girl with long red hair, looking far more cheerful than the old picture.

           Sam stumbled back as Charlie waved to him cheerfully. She’s not the other Charlie, he told himself. This is real. This is the real Garth. Lucifer just looked them up, that’s how he got them right.

           “Sam, say hi to Charlie,” Meg instructed him. Her voice, softer than he’d ever heard it, reached through the fog. “Then tell me what I’m wearing.”

           Sam obeyed. “Hi Charlie. Meg, I like your pink shirt. It suits your hair. Your jeans have holes in them. You’re wearing brown boots.”

           Charlie and Garth looked puzzled, but Meg smiled. “Good boy.” She turned to the others. “He’s just having some déjà vu. Happens with pre-cogs sometimes.”

           “Pre-cogs?” Charlie asked, her eyebrows raising. “Shit, are we playing?”

           “No, they’re not—they’re not LARPers, Charlie.” Kevin was still fidgeting nervously. “Sam really is pre-cognitive.”

           Charlie brightened. “Oh, cool! I know people always discount that kinda stuff, but you never know, right?” Her smile faded when Kevin looked away. “Hey, what’s wrong? Kevin?”

           Kevin buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But we needed your help, and they can’t think of any other way—”

           Charlie got up. “Did you sons of bitches hurt him?” she snapped. “Who are you, anyways? I don’t work for people who kidnap kids!”

           “We didn’t—” Sam held up his hands. “Hang on, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

           “Find yourself another hacker!” Charlie snapped.

           “We don’t need a hacker—Garth, help us out here?”

           Charlie stared at Garth in horror. “You told them about me?”

           “No, the angels did,” Adam cut in.

           Charlie stared at him. “I thought you said we weren’t playing.”

           “We’re not,” Adam promised. “But you need to listen to us.”

           Charlie sat back down. “Fine.”

           Sam took a deep breath. “What do you know about the supernatural?”

           Between him, Garth and Adam they got the basic ‘so-the-world-is-full-of-actual-monsters’ spiel done fairly quickly. Charlie didn’t ask a single question until they were done.

           “So are unicorns real?”

           Sam had to smile at that. “Not so far as we know. But pretty much everything else is real.”

           “Wow.” Charlie sat back. “That’s…awesome!”

           “Are…what?” Had his mind finally snapped?

           “I mean it’s not, don’t get me wrong, monsters must suck, but…it’s still pretty wild.” Charlie’s eyes were bright. “All those stories are real. Magic is real!”

           “You’re taking this pretty well,” Garth complimented her. “Most people scream and run.”

           “Oh I kinda feel like doing that,” Charlie said honestly. “But hey, it makes sense that there’d be good and bad if there was magic at all. That’s right up my alley.” She looked at Kevin. “Are you a hunter too?”

           Kevin actually laughed. “Not at all. I’m a prophet and…well, that’s…part 2 I guess.”

           “Noooo, part 2 is always the death,” Charlie groaned good-naturedly. Her smile faded again. “You said you needed my help. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a hunter.”

           “We don’t need for that,” Meg drawled. “Your job is a bit harder.”

           Charlie gave Meg a once-over. “You know I just might be able to help. I’m good with hard. What’s your name?”

           Meg sighed. “Oh honey, you’re a little too human for my taste.” Her eyes flashed black. “I’m Meg. I’m Adam’s guardian demon.”

           Charlie didn’t scream, but her face turned pale. “Are those a thing?”

           Meg shrugged, her eyes going back to normal. “He reminds me of my little brother.”

           Me and my brother and dad did a triple deal.

           Meg caught Sam staring. “Yeah, Stanford, you got it. Want to say anything?”

           “No,” Sam said honestly.

           “Good.” Meg turned back to Charlie. “So we told you angels were real. Their older brother’s fucking one, we’ve got a whole group of them back at base, they don’t sit on clouds, yada yada yada. Thing is, there’s trouble in Paradise, some real old, some just since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t.”

           Charlie nodded carefully. “I’m guessing I don’t need to know exactly what that means?”

           “Not right now.” Sam took up the story. “Basically, we need to get an archangel, Gabriel, back from the dead. My brother Dean and his angel, Cas, they’re in Purgatory right now looking for him.”

           “Okay…”

           “Angels can’t manifest without a vessel outside of Heaven, and it has to be a specific person, part of a line. Gabriel made his own vessel at one point, but that vessel was killed and is kinda being held by a pagan goddess.”

           “Creepy. So…am I…I’m an archangel’s vessel?” Charlie looked stunned. “I’m not that religious.”

           “Religion’s got nothing to do with it, trust me,” Adam promised.

           Charlie tilted her head. “Are you one too?”

           Adam flinched. “Yeah. Michael.”

           “And I was Lucifer’s,” Sam added.

           “As in the Devil?”

           “Oh yeah.”

           Charlie got up and started to pace. “So…so what? You’re warning me?”

           “No,” Sam said. “We’re asking you. Gabriel’s the only one who can sort things out in Heaven, and he needs to be in a body to get to Heaven without causing a worldwide explosion.”

           “And that would be my body?” Charlie’s fingers were tapping against her thighs as she paced.

           “If you agree,” Sam answered. “Angels aren’t like demons, they need your consent.”

           Charlie stopped dead in her tracks. “You said yes to the Devil?!”

           “He did it to save the world,” Adam snapped. “And believe me he’s paid for it.”

           “We both have,” Sam reminded him.

           Charlie blushed. “Sorry. I guess—never mind. I shouldn’t have—this is a lot to take in. And I want the rest of the story at some point.” She started pacing again. “So all I have to do is say yes?”

           Sam nodded. “We’re going to try to get his original vessel back, but if not he should only have to be in your body for a short time. It’s not…fun, at all, but of the archangels Gabriel’s definitely the kindest.” It felt strange to say those words after Mystery Spot, after everything, but Sam knew it was true.

           “What if I say no?” Charlie challenged.

           “Then either Dean or I will say yes,” Sam said. He ignored Adam’s scowl; they’d fought this out already. “We’re both archangel vessels, we can hold him for a while, even if he’s not an exact match.”

           “Right. Because you’re already involved, and I’m not,” Charlie said.

           “Yeah,” Sam said. And he’d do it, too, give himself over, because their family was in trouble.

           “Well, now I’m involved,” Charlie said determinedly.

           “Wait, you are?”

           Charlie attempted a smile. “Come on, an epic quest to save the good guys? I’ve been training for this all my life. It’d be chicken to back out now.” She bit her lip. “Can you do…maybe do me a favour first?”

           “Sure,” Sam said before Meg could cut in. “I don’t know for sure we can give it, though.”

           Charlie looked away. “My mom, she…she’s been in a coma since I was twelve. She’s on life support in the hospital. That’s why I’m here right now—I wanted to visit. Could you…could you maybe tell me if she’s really still there?”

           Sam winced. “I don’t…Meg, can you—”

           “I can tell if her body still has a soul in it,” Meg answered. She softened her tone. “If she’s really gone, Charlie, I’ll be able to tell. If she’s still there…I might not be able to heal her, but we’ve got friends who can.”

           Hope brightened Charlie’s eyes. “Then…I’ll help. Of course I will. I’m sorry, I know I should just help without asking—”

           “Why the fuck would you do that?” Meg asked. Then she groaned. “Oh, you’ve got a hero complex, don’t you? Listen, everyone believes in something.  Everyone wants something. You trying to be noble doesn’t eliminate that. If anything, it’s better that you ask.”

           Charlie shrugged. “But shouldn’t I just want to help?”

           “Nobody should just want to help when it comes to being a vessel,” Adam said firmly. “That’s stupid.”

           Meg started whistling.

           “Your vessels have no choice,” Adam pointed out.

           “Well—yeah, no, they don’t. In my defence, I killed this girl right at the beginning. Didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”  

           Charlie winced. “I guess that does stop her suffering, right?”

           Meg raised her eyebrows. “You are remarkably calm, you know that?”

           Charlie shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve trained for this. I play with True Neutrals all the time.”

           “I’m not True Neutral! I’m…I’m at least partly evil.”

           “You sure about that?”

           Meg thought about it for a second. “I don’t know anymore.”

           Charlie took a deep breath. “I’ll…um, when should we go?”

           “Might be best for us to go now, if visiting hours are right.”

           “Oh, I never go during visiting hours anyway,” Charlie said, her tone trying for lightness. “I sneak in later; people are still kind of looking for me.”

           “They don’t know what happened to Celeste Middleton,” Sam guessed.

           Charlie flinched. “How—oh, vision?”

           “Something like that. We’ll explain everything later, I promise.” Sam took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to come with us, Charlie. We don’t live far from here, and it’ll be safer.” He turned to Garth. “You can come too if you want, the Bunker’s awesome.”

           Garth looked interested, but he shook his head. “I’ve got a boat to retreat to, and there are people counting on me. Besides, not all your eggs in one basket, right? If you need me, I’ll come, but I’ll stay out for now.”

           Sam glanced at Adam. “Alright,” he said. “But put your wards up. Angelic ones too.”

           Garth nodded. “Why don’t you get packed, Charlie?”

           Once Charlie stuffed half a dozen books into one bag and tied a sweater  to another, they all went to the Impala. Charlie slid into the back between Kevin and Meg, clutching her bags close. Sam watched her in the rearview; as they grew closer to the hospital, she curled into herself more tightly. Sam couldn’t read her face, couldn’t tell what she was hoping for.

           When they got to the parking lot Meg tapped Charlie on the shoulder. “You and I’d better go in. The lumberers will slow us down.”

           Charlie looked nervous. “What about…no offence, but…”

           “How about I go too?” Adam offered. “I know my way around hospitals. Sort of.”

           “Bring your phone with you,” Sam told him. “Kevin and I will wait here.” He tried to smile encouragingly at Charlie, but he wasn’t sure it worked.

           Charlie checked to make sure the nurse (the same one as last time, she had to be extra careful) had left her mother’s room. The nurse was gone, probably going on a break, he looked tired.

           Charlie nodded to Meg and Adam, but she held her hand up before she went for the door. She wanted to see her mom alone first.

           Just like every time she’d ever walked into that room, Charlie stomped her feet as she approached the bed. When she was little, she would do that on Saturday mornings to check if her parents were really asleep, or just pretending to make her wait for cartoons. Mom could never hide her smile.

           But her mother didn’t smile when she approached the bed. She didn’t even move.

           Charlie took her hand. “Hi Mom,” she whispered.

           She heard the door open behind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn. Meg stopped next to her. “How long has it been?” she asked.

           “Fourteen—fourteen years,” Charlie managed. “It’s my fault.”

           “No it isn’t.”

           “I was scared at a sleepover, and they drove out to get me. If I wasn’t—”

           “You were twelve. You were a kid, and you wanted your parents, and your parents wanted to come and get you. The adult who got in a car and drove around drunk is the only one who was doing the wrong thing that night. It didn’t have to happen, sure, but what if they’d just been out for a drive? They’d still be dead. It’s not your fault.”

           Charlie gasped, tears running down her face. “I…no one’s ever said that. Not once.”

           “When was the last time you told someone?”

           Charlie shook her head. “Never after…right when it happened.” Her heart sank. “Wait, you said they were…”

           She turned to look at Meg, who shook her head. “I’m sorry,” the demon said. “But there’s no soul in her body. She’s never going to wake up, Charlie.”

           Charlie bowed her head. “Is this…is this hurting her?”

           “No,” Meg said solemnly. “But she’s in Heaven, Charlie. She won’t come back.”

           “I wanted to…I wanted to apologize,” Charlie choked out.

           “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Meg replied. “But if you want to say goodbye…sometimes there’s a connection between body and soul that doesn’t fade. She could hear that.”

           Charlie looked up at Adam. “I…I…okay. If she’s gone, I’ll say goodbye.”

           Adam put an awkward arm around her shoulders. “I know it sucks,” he muttered. “I know.”

           Charlie took a deep breath and looked down. Her mom was never going to smile at her again. She should have known that long ago, the first time she stomped her feet in the hospital room. “Can you two please give me…I need some time.”

           Once the two were gone, Charlie sat on the edge of the bed and pulled an old but well-cared-for copy of The Hobbit out of her bag. She opened it, flipping past the dedication; For Celeste on her 8th birthday—a new copy of our favourite! Love always, Mommy.

           “One last time, okay?” she said, trying for a smile. “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…”

Chapter 30: Talking Tricks

          Cas’ gaze followed Benny’s pointing finger. “That’s where Gabriel is?”

           They’d been fighting their way through Purgatory for two days now, and Cas understood why no one wanted to visit the damn place. Crawling with monsters of all kinds, nothing and nowhere was safe. Even in Hell there were hiding places, places where he’d rested, Dean’s soul cradled in his Grace. Purgatory was pure fighting, pure chaos…pure war.

           It was strangely invigorating, but Cas was finished with it.

           Now he stared in consternation. Benny was pointing to the top of a hill, bare of any cover. He could feel an angel’s pulsing Grace, but it was warded enough that he couldn’t properly sense who it was.

           “How will we get up there?”

           Benny bared his teeth in a smile. “Don’t you worry, aunt. There’s a basement door.”

           “I’m not related to you in the slightest,” Cas answered, confused.

           Dean groaned. “Babe, it’s not…let’s go.”

           Cas glared at his mate, but he followed Benny through the trees. Benny checked around for any monsters; Cas couldn’t sense any, but he let the vampire check. Satisfied, Benny pointed towards the base of the hill. “Run for that. Don’t stop, it’s an illusion.”

           “I can tell!” Cas snapped. Dean put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I apologize, Benny.” Even though he wasn’t sure he did. “Should you go first? Gabriel isn’t expecting us.”

           Benny’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but he’s your kin, ain’t he?”

           Yes, and that’s why I don’t want to go first.

           “You lead the way,” was all Cas said. “We’ll cover you.”

           Benny nodded. He ran straight towards the hill and…vanished into it.

           “Let’s go,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’ hand.

           “Dean—” Cas didn’t, couldn’t explain why he suddenly wanted to run in the opposite direction. As fast and as far as he could.

           “Cas. Honey, look at me.” Dean’s voice was tender, too soft for the forest they stood in, but Cas didn’t care. Dean cupped his face. “It’s gonna be okay, alright, baby?”

           Cas couldn’t answer. The last two days he’d been running on the certainty that they needed to find Gabriel to stop Raphael. A simple, logical formula. What he’d never considered—if he was being honest, what he didn’t want to think about—was what would happen when he saw Gabriel again. The brother he loved. The brother who left him. The brother he buried.

           “I’m scared,” he said hoarsely.

           Dean squeezed his hand. “I know. I’m here. Now come on, let’s go.”

           Cas took a deep breath, a breath he didn’t need. Then, before he could change his mind, he sprinted for the hill, Dean matching him step for step.

           The illusion was well crafted; one second Cas was looking at a drab hillside; the next, a small room lined with pillows and pictures, the ceiling so low he had to stoop. A line from a book he and Lisa had read together came to mind—“it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

           Benny stood at the other end of the room, a confused expression on his face (no doubt wondering why they’d taken so long). Gabriel stood next to him.

           Cas let go of Dean’s hand, staring at his brother.

           Gabriel had manifested in the same vessel he’d died in, but his cheeks were hollower, his wings curled up defensively. He stood like a nervous human, shoulders stiff and hands fidgeting. His eyes wouldn’t meet Cas’.

           “These are the ones I was telling you about,” Benny said. His voice had gone soft and careful. “You know ’em, Tricky?”

           Gabriel nodded, his expression still serious. “It’s been a while.” He approached carefully. “Hi Cas.”

           “Hello Gabriel.” Cas wanted to say more, needed to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. How many times had he prayed for Gabriel’s return? For thousands of years, for millions of moments, he’d missed his nester. The first face he’d ever seen.

           Gabriel’s face fell. “Oh Cassie, I’m so sorry.”

           Cas tried to pull himself together. “I…I missed you.” So much for that.

           With a quick flash of wings, Gabriel was across the room, pulling him down into a hug. “I missed you too, Little Wings,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

           Cas tried. He tried very, very hard not to react, to stay emotionless and strong.

           But this was Gabriel, and he was here, and Cas couldn’t be angry any more. He was so, so tired of being angry at Gabriel. Of missing Gabriel.

           He hesitantly put his arms around Gabriel, hugging him back carefully. To his relief his brother didn’t pull away; instead, Cas felt Gabriel’s wings wrapping around him. He was bigger now, both in vessel and Grace, but Gabriel had always been bigger. It had always made Cas feel safe. He was relieved to discover it still worked.

           A part of Cas would have been happy to stay like that forever, but he knew they didn’t have the time. He pulled away reluctantly. “I am glad we found you.”

           “I’m surprised you did!” Gabriel was smirking a bit, but it was softer than the Trickster grin. “Never thought I’d end up here. I guess I was pagan enough.”

           “That’s what Sammy thought,” Dean interjected. Cas tried to hide a smile. His mate was standing by their vampire guide, trying to seem nonchalant, but Cas knew he was still worried about their family back home.

           Gabriel waved. “How’s it going, Dean-o?” He raised his brows. “Oh, this is too good—you two got together?!”

           Cas felt the same wave of nervousness he’d felt when Gabriel had first appeared in front of him in TV land. Gabriel knew far too much about him, even if it was millennia old. On the other hand…surely Gabriel didn’t remember everything? “Yes, Gabriel. This is my mate.”

           Gabriel cocked his head. “Wow, he sure doesn’t look like a bumblebee…”

           Cas groaned and Dean’s jaw dropped. Gabriel laughed and clapped Cas on the back. “Congrats, little bro! Knew you had it in you.”

           Dean threw his hands in the air. “I give up! I guess everyone knew we liked each other before we did!”

           “Glad you’ve accepted that,” Gabriel said with a wink. Then his face went solemn. “So the world didn’t explode, I’m guessing. I’ve heard rumours about what went down from some of the newbies, but…how did you guys stop Lucifer?”

           Dean glanced at Cas. “Long story, basically we got the rings, Sam said yes and he flung himself, your brothers and Adam into the Cage.”

           Gabriel snapped and a large bottle of whiskey appeared on the table. “Sit down and start talking boys. Something tells me we’re gonna need this.”

           Gabriel didn’t ask a single question as Cas and Dean told the story of the last year. Cas couldn’t take his eyes off his brother, worried that if he did Gabriel would vanish. Benny listened intently, looking rather calm for a vampire with a human in the room. Cas made sure he was between him and Dean at all times, leaning slightly to obscure the vampire’s line of sight.

           Dean stopped talking right after Sam’s birthday party, and Gabriel let out a low whistle. “Damn boys. I…I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I was hoping to be, but I guess I didn’t get my ass in gear in time.”

           “You gave us the key,” Cas reminded him. “You didn’t owe us anything.”

           “You sure about that?” Gabriel said. “I feel like I owe you and the other fledglings I raised.”

           Cas flinched, Samandriel’s pale face appearing in his mind.

           “Wait. You said that Sam’s birthday was two weeks ago. What’s happened since then?”

           Cas tried to explain, but the words stuck in his throat. And really, what was he supposed to say? Were there words for Samandriel’s wounds, for the scars he shared with Hannah and Balthazar, for the enemy they were facing?

           “Cas. Tell me,” Gabriel said.

           Cas tried again, but to his alarm he felt tears rise in his eyes. “Dean,” he croaked, “can you?”

           Dean squeezed his hand. “Sure, babe.” Cas couldn’t listen as Dean explained. His vision was going blurry at the edges, much like it had when he’d first fallen. Stricken, he wondered if time in Purgatory flowed differently, as it did in Hell. Was Dri already dead? Had the angels found their family?

           Castiel.

           Cas flinched and looked up. Gabriel’s eyes were shining gold and furious, his Voice serious. Calm, Castiel.

           It was an order he couldn’t refuse. Cas bowed his head, trying to get his breathing under control.            Gabriel’s eyes stopped glowing, but the anger didn’t quite fade from his face. “Benny, would you mind waiting in the other room?”

           Benny nodded. He glanced at Dean and Cas for a second before he ducked out.

           Gabriel looked at Cas. “Alright, get mad.”

           “What?”

           “You’re angry. Get angry.”  

           “I’m not—Gabriel, now is not the time…”

           “The hell it isn’t! You’re furious with me, let it out before it consumes you. I would have thought the amount of work you’ve one with your mate about repressing emotions, you’d know how dangerous it is. Especially for angels.”

           “What do you mean?” Dean snapped, his eyes going to Cas’.

           “Your mate’s been carrying too much emotion inside,” Gabriel said. “We’re not built to hold that much, it needs to be dealt with. He’s got thousands of years of baggage when it comes to me, and the last year’s brought up a bunch of old pain from other people. Starting to feel angry yet, Cassie?”

           Cas took a deep breath, pressing his lips together. “I am not angry, Gabriel,” he got out. “I’m fine.”

           “You’ll be fine until you burn out, which is much more likely to happen when you’re cut off from Heaven. Trust me, I figured that one out pretty quick. You know, when I ran away from Heaven and left you all behind?”

           Cas clenched his hands. “I will not play your game, Gabriel.”

           “Really? How about this. When Benny said there were people here, I thought, wow, someone must actually care about me. But it turns out you came all this way to save me…to get me to help you out.” Gabriel crossed his arms. “Nothing doing. I’m here because I helped out, why would I do it again? Especially if the only reason you bother to come help me is because you need me.”

           That did it.

           Cas snapped. “You think we’re just here to get your help?! We can do this without you, Gabriel, but we want you there! No, let me finish!”

           Gabriel clamped his mouth shut.

           “You left us,” Cas’ voice shook and he tried to steady it. “You left all of us, so soon after Father left, and they pulled us apart. I was put in Raphael’s garrison with Anna, and the rest were scattered. I haven’t seen Hannah or Samandriel in centuries and I saw Balthazar only on the battle field! You made us a family, and Naomi punished us for that! I know now that she punished me, punished us all for disobeying, for being like you, until Anna chose to fall rather than deal with it anymore! We lost our loyalty to each other! We lost our bond, because you weren’t there to strengthen it, to teach us how to keep connected.”

           Gabriel bowed his head.

           “And I can’t blame you for it!” Cas said desperately.  “I want to, but I know why you left and I believe that you thought you were protecting us, but that doesn’t change the fact that we needed you!” His voice dropped. “We missed you. And then we lost you again.”    

           “Please, brother. Come back. I don’t care if you fight, or if you heal Dri, or anything. Just come home.” Cas was panting now, tears in his eyes, fighting to keep his wings from flying out and injuring Dean.

           Gabriel caught him just before he collapsed.

           “There,” he whispered as Cas sobbed. “There we go, let it out. My poor little one, you’ve worn yourself out. Just let go.”

           “I can’t,” Cas gasped. “I need to be strong. For my family.”

           “How are you supposed to be strong for them if you’re in this much pain?” Gabriel asked. His wings wrapped around Cas. “It’s alright, little one. Everything’s going to be alright.”

           When Cas finally regained composure, he was surprised to feel his heart rate slowing. He didn’t think he had a heart beat at all.

           “You’ve become too entwined with your vessel,” Gabriel explained. “It’s just you in there, and the body’s affecting you. Jimmy Novak must have had anxiety, and that on top of not renewing your bonds…it was bound to be hard.”

           “What do I do?”

           “Not sure yet. Once we get you back on Heaven’s power, we can work it out.” His brother’s voice was sure and confident, and Cas couldn’t help but relax a bit.

           “You’ll help then?”

           “Of course I will.” Gabriel kissed his forehead. “I’m coming back, brother. Don’t worry about a thing.”

           Cas got to his feet with Gabriel’s help. “We have a vessel for you, since Kali still has your blood.”

           Gabriel winced. “Right. Gonna need to steal that back. We may need another vessel too.”

           “Why?” Cas asked.

           “You didn’t know?”

           “Who are you talking about?” Dean asked.

           Gabriel knocked on the ceiling. “Come on down, I know you’re awake.”

           To Cas’ utter astonishment, the ceiling opened up and a redhaired woman leapt down. “Hi Cas,” she said shyly.

           “Anna?!”

Chapter 31: The Cake Is Not A Lie (Or Is It)?

          It was the morning of the third day, and Adam was pacing the floor.

           They’d had no calls from the Reaper, no texts, nothing. It was nearly noon, and Adam was getting seriously worried. They were running out of time; Samandriel’s wounds were getting infected, and even Adam could sense the probing of the angelic flights overhead. They needed a miracle, and the best chance of that was currently in Purgatory.

           Sam was reading a thick book, but Adam had noticed fifteen minutes ago that it was upside down. His brother was just as nervous as he was, and it showed.

           “Can’t we call Crowley or something?” Adam asked.

           “I don’t have his number,” Sam answered. “And even if I did, he’s not going to take being a Reaper receptionist very well.”

           “We can’t get a message to them!” Adam said desperately. “If they don’t hear about the portal soon, they’ll never get out!”

           Sam got up. “Why don’t we just summon the Reaper?”

           “Not in the Bunker!” Balthazar snapped. “I’m not redrawing the wards again.”

           Sam flipped him off and walked towards the library. “We’ll go where the Reaper met Dean and Cas. We’ll get some answers.” Adam shivered at the dark promise in his brother’s voice.

           It didn’t take long to find the right book—Adam loved this library. The spell was easy enough, and thankfully Balthazar didn’t have to go for any ingredients.

           “Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

           “We’re summoning a Reaper to find out why they’re not back from Purgatory yet,” Sam called.

           “Can I come?!”

           “No. You stay put.”

           Charlie pouted. “I want to learn about hunting.”

           Sam gestured towards the library. “There are about a thousand books in there. Knock yourself out. Bobby will help you, right?”

           The old hunter glared at Sam, but his eyes softened as he looked at Charlie. “Sure thing, girlie. I’ll teach you what I know.”

           Charlie brightened. “C’mon, Kevin, put the God rock down!” She didn’t pay any attention to Kevin’s protests; she just hauled him down the hall after Bobby.

           Ben looked at Lisa hopefully. “Can I go with them?”

           Lisa shot a look at Sam.

           “There are some really interesting mythology books in there,” Adam said, coming to the rescue. “They’re bound in blue by the wall—they should be age appropriate.”

           “Oh alright,” Lisa said, shooing her son down the hall. “May as well let him hang out with the big kids.” She waited until they heard the library door close before she dropped her guard. “What’s wrong?”            

           “I’m hoping it’s nothing, Lisa,” Sam said as lightly as he could. “It’s probably just a time of day thing—maybe time zones in Purgatory suck.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t let Ben worry, okay?” Ben had been amazingly brave in the last couple of days, but according to Balthazar he’d crawled in with him and Lisa last night. Sam remembered feeling like that. Dad will come home. He has to. We can’t take care of ourselves yet.

           He drove to the field a little bit faster than necessary.

           The Reaper summoning was quicker than Sam remembered; it took less than twenty minutes to get completely set up. Adam drew the trap while Sam got the ingredients ready.

           “Do you know the Reaper’s name?” Adam asked.

           “No,” Sam said. He checked his phone again; no fewer than five people would be texting him if they heard from the Reaper. Maybe I have no service, he thought hopefully. Maybe Dean and Cas are already back with Gabriel, and someone’s going to come and bitch at us for wasting supplies.

           His phone had five bars.

           Sam lit a match. “Stand back.”

           “Do Reapers explode?”

           “Ad, just—”

           “Alright, alright.”

           When Adam was behind the tree, Sam dropped the match and started chanting the summons. He ended with his own name, hoping that the same Reaper would answer. The trap was foolproof, but it would get awkward if he dragged a complete stranger away from their job.

           It wasn’t the Reaper who’d taken Dean and Cas that appeared a second later. But it wasn’t a stranger either.

           “Tessa?” Sam said in disbelief.

           The Reaper tossed her hair out of her face. “Sam? Oh, good, I wasn’t sure how to find you.”

           Sam went cold. “Wait—”

           Tessa waved her hand. “No, not to reap you, you’re not due for a while. I was trying to find a way to warn you.”

           “To warn me? About what?”

           “Crowley.”

           Breathing suddenly difficult, Sam tried to clear his throat. “What do you mean?”

           “Where is Dean?” Tessa asked.

           “In Purgatory. Tessa, what—”

           “Damn it! I was halfway across the galaxy, but I thought I’d be back before this.”

           “What has Crowley done?” Adam asked urgently, coming to stand beside Sam.

           “He’s got your brother trapped,” Tessa said. “I’m sorry, but the Reapers won’t go back for him.”

           “What?” Sam croaked.

           “He’s furious,” Tessa said. “He’s mad that half of Hell is calling him Dean Winchester’s bitch. Demons aren’t the most loyal followers.”

           “It was a Reaper that helped them,” Sam managed.

           “The King of Hell does have some Reaper lackeys,” Tessa said. “He’ll hold your brother and his mate for ransom, and who knows what he’ll ask for?”

           It didn’t bear thinking about.

           “Can you—”

           Tessa shook her head. “I can’t help you. Even if I really wanted to. The Reaper way will be watched.”

           “Is there anything we could do?”

           Tessa shrugged helplessly. “I’ve heard of a portal that humans could pass through, but it’s only on the Purgatory side.” She looked around. “I have to go. If they catch me—”

           Sam didn’t move.

           “Let me go!”

           “Where is the portal in Purgatory?”

           “All I know is that it’s at the top of a hill! Now please!”

           Sam clenched his fists, but he scuffed the trap with his foot and Tessa disappeared.

           “Sam!” Adam’s eyes were wild. “We need to get them out!”

           “She’s not going to be any help.” Sam ran for the car. “Come on, we need to get home!”

           “So we just kill Crowley, right?” Meg asked.

           “We’re not waging war on Hell, Meg!” Sam snapped. “We don’t have time for that!”

            Balthazar was pacing the room, Hannah was looking through bookshelves with Adam and Bobby, and Charlie was searching the Internet (“you never know, some hunter’s got to be a computer nerd”).

           “We need to get word to them somehow,” Balthazar growled. “Can’t you pray to Cas?”

           “I’ve been trying, but I don’t think they’re going through. It feels different.”

           “Wonderful. Phones?”

           Sam shook his head. “Out of the service area.”

           No one said what they were all thinking. If the Reaper lied about coming back for Dean and Cas, maybe Purgatory was more dangerous than they thought too.

           Sam pressed his hands to his head, hoping for a vision, an idea, anything.

           “They might be able to find the portal on their own,” Adam suggested hopefully.

           “We ain’t got that kind of time,” Bobby snapped. “We’ve got to get a message to them.”

           “There might be one way.” Meg’s eyes were glittering. “I could kill myself.”

           “What?”

           “Demons are monsters too, aren’t they? Maybe that’s where we go.”

           “The book doesn’t say anything about demons.”

           “It says ‘beasts unclean’, doesn’t it?” Meg’s eyes turned black, and for a second Adam caught a glimpse of her true form. “I’d say that fits.”

           “And if you don’t?” Hannah sounded near hysterical. “Then you die.”

           “Who’s gonna care about that?” Meg asked, sounding genuinely confused.

           “I do!”

           Meg raised her eyebrows. “Well…I didn’t know angel. Why didn’t you say something?”

           “Because I…I didn’t know how,” Hannah said. She walked to Meg and took her hands. “I will not let you die for this. There must be another—oh!”

           “What?”

           “I was in Michael’s garrison,” Hannah said slowly. She let go of Meg’s hands and held up her own. At a word, a sword appeared on her right palm. Sam winced; he recognized Michael’s brand. “I could try flying in through the angel way.”

           “That might get you in, Hani, but they will see you. You’ve got Level One clearance—”

           “Two,” Hannah snapped, “and if all I have to do is help them find the portal I don’t have to come back out the same way.”

           Meg tilted her head. “You’re going to fly in?”

           “That should work.”

           “You’ll get caged, Feathers. If they sense an angel.”

           Hannah raised her eyebrows. “What is your point, Meg?”

           “If we go in together bound, the signal will get scrambled. They just might call it a screw up in their radar.”

           Balthazar’s eyes brightened. “The demon is right. It should work.” He laughed shortly. “Father knows I’ve had enough experience sneaking around Heaven’s tripwires. Or he would if he hadn’t fucked off.”

           “Alright, hang on.” Sam pressed his lips together. “Meg, Hannah, you’re going to fly in…where does that happen?”

           “Anywhere we want,” Hannah said. “The door is everywhere.”

           “Maybe explain that later,” Sam said. “Okay, I think you should go soon. Technically we’ve got a few hours before Crowley will make any kind of demand, since we did say three days.”

           “But we should go soon, to make sure they get out before he closes any other portals,” Meg agreed. “Let’s go right now. You up for that, Feathers?”

           Hannah nodded, drawing her blade. “Come, Meg. We’ll go to the field where the Reaper met them. We’ll be able to track his aura; it will at least give us a starting point.”

           Meg wound her arms around Hannah, her tail twining around their waists. She expected the angel to react with disgust, but Hannah just looked at her with innocent curiosity. “I didn’t know demons had tails,” she said shyly. “Is that comfortable for you?”

           “Sure is, angel,” Meg answered. She spread her wings. In four hundred years of being a demon, she’d never felt so ugly. Her wings weren’t even batlike—they were skeletal, flaps of dead skin holding the bones together. Hannah’s wings were large, feathers shining silvery-blue, stretching above their heads.

           Hannah’s wings dipped, the tips making contacts with hers. “Your wings look so powerful,” she said, her voice wondering. “I hope I will be able to keep up with you.”

           Powerful? Everything about her form spoke of the weakness she’d shown so long ago, she and her father and brother. Her mother dying, her little brother dead already. The walk to the crossroads. Three souls for two lives. Ten years of pretending their recoveries were a miracle. Twenty years of torture, only to give in. Hundreds of years under Alistair, making others give in.

           “Powerful,” Hannah repeated.

           Meg tilted her head up and managed a smile on both faces. “I’ll keep pace with you,” she said.

           “On three?”

           “One, two—”

           Meg had to clutch tight to Hannah when she took off, her wings cutting through the air with a swiftness that took her breath away. She started flapping to catch up, and the two of them soared through the blinding tunnel of time and space. She’d never had this much fun.

           All too soon, Meg looked down and saw trees. She saw three glowing spots—must be their targets. “Better touch down!” she shouted to Hannah.

           Hannah didn’t reply, but she banked sharply and Meg nearly swooned when their true forms pressed together even closer than before, like there were no vessels between them. They’d have to explore that later on.

           Hannah didn’t let go of her when they landed, and for the briefest second Meg forgot they had any kind of mission. She laid her cheek against Hannah’s shoulder, closing her eyes as wings wrapped around her.

           Then, of course, Dean Winchester had to ruin it.

           “What the hell are you two doing here?!”

           Meg stepped away reluctantly and flipped Dean off. He was there with Castiel, but there were three other people there. The short man with golden hair had to be Gabriel, there was a vampire, and…

           Hannah shrieked in delight. “Anna!”

           “Hani?!” The redheaded angel held her arms out and Hannah rushed to her, laughing with delight.

“How are you here? I thought you were gone!”

           “Apparently fallen angels end up in Purgatory,” Anna answered, hugging her close. “Gabriel found me and protected me.”

           Meg tried not to flinch. So Hannah had someone else. She should have known…

           “Meg!” Hannah turned to her, eyes glowing with delight. “This is my eldest sister, Anna.”

           Sister? Meg felt hope blossoming in her chest. “Nice to meet you,” she managed.

           Hannah turned to the short man, who grinned at her nervously. “Hi Hani. Your wings straightened out.”

           “You told me they would.” Hannah rushed forward and embraced the man. “Gabriel, brother, you’re alright. You’re alright…”

           “Well…yeah, sweetheart, I’m alright.” Gabriel patted her on the back. “I’m coming back for good, I promise. Who’s your friend?”

           “I’m Meg. I’m a demon.” Meg shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Look, I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got a problem.”

           “The Reaper’s going to be here soon,�� Dean pointed out.

           “The Reaper’s not coming,” Meg said bluntly. “Crowley’s throwing a bitch fit. He wants to hold you here for ransom.”

           Once she would have delighted in watching the hope drain from Dean Winchester’s eyes. Now it made her uncomfortable. “We can get you all out, there’s a portal—”

           “The portal?” The vampire stepped forward. “The portal ain’t gonna let us all out. It’s only one at a time, and we’ve got three to get out, not counting the live angel.”

           “I only see two,” Meg said coldly.

           “Benny’s coming with us,” Castiel said firmly. “We made a deal, and he has honoured his side.”

           “And exactly how were you planning on doing that?” Meg asked.

           Dean held up a knife. “There’s a spell. I can take Benny’s spirit in my arm, same as with Anna and Gabriel.”

           “Was this your plan from the beginning?”

           “…No.”

           “Wait, did you mooks have a plan at all?”

           Dean flushed.

           “We thought the Reaper would be able to take us all back out, but Gabriel corrected us,” Castiel said. “We were just preparing to leave when you came in.”

           “Well,” Meg said slowly, “I don’t know if the plan’s changed too much.” She glanced at Hannah. “You hearing any alarm bells, Feathers?”

           Hannah cocked her head. “I don’t think so, but it’s only a matter of time.”

           “But they don’t know yet?”

           “No.”

           “Okay. Do the spell. We’ll fly Destiel out with the three of you hitchhikers in Dean.”

           “Is that going to work?” Hannah asked, turning to Gabriel. Meg stamped down her irritation. Gabriel was one of the Head Winged Douchebags, after all.

           “It’s our best shot,” Gabriel agreed. “Do we have a vessel for me? I can make one for Anna.”

           “Charlie’s there,” Meg answered.

           “Then let’s fly Air Angels and Demons,” Gabriel said. “C’mon, Deano, do the spell.”

           Meg watched in fascination as Dean cut first his left, then his right arm open. The hunter chanted slowly, prompted by his mate. Meg shielded her eyes as first Gabriel, then Anna, then Benny turned into a shimmering ball of light then floated to Dean’s arms. The wounds sealed themselves, but the skin pulsed and glowed. Dean collapsed into Castiel’s arms.

           “Dearest?” Cas asked urgently.

           “I’ll be…fine,” Dean managed. “We gotta…go. Gabriel’s wards will fall.”

           Meg could feel the magic seeping out of the air, a barrier that kept this clearing secure. Without arguing, she grabbed hold of Hannah. “Follow us, Castiel! Stay right on my tail!”

           She and Hannah took off, and Meg could hear Cas following them, holding Dean securely. This time was different; the light in the tunnel seemed sharper this time, and right before they broke through, Meg heard an alarm begin to ring. Hannah shouted something in Enochian, and they were flying faster than Meg had ever moved….

           She opened her eyes in Hannah’s arms in the field. “What happened?”

           “I was too fast for you,” Hannah said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

           “Don’t be sorry,” Meg said, her vision still a bit blurry. “That was so cool, angel.”

           Hannah smiled, and Meg was sure now. She in trouble.

           Then Hannah laid a light kiss on her lips.

           Well, if they both were, where was the harm?

Chapter 32: The Mother Of All Exes

          Adam watched with fascination as Dean started to chant. His arm glowed, and bright Grace came out. It made a beeline for Charlie. There was a flash of light, and Charlie fell to her knees.

           “Charlie?” Dean asked. He paused. “Gabriel?”

           Charlie coughed and got to her feet. “There it is, bucko.” He—she? Stretched her arms above her head. “Wow, this feels better.”

           Dean looked down at his arms, wincing as Anna and Benny moved. “Any ideas about this?”

           “Right.” Charlie’s eyes flashed gold. “Give me Anna.”

           “Excuse me?”

           “I can hold her in my Grace for a while.”

           “Hang on, Charlie didn’t sign on for that!” Adam snapped.

           Charlie’s face shifted, and she gasped. “Hey, it’s me. What’s going on?”

           “Gabriel wants another angel to ride shotgun.”

           “Will it hurt? This doesn’t.”

           Adam looked shocked. “It doesn’t?”

           “Nope. I’m fine. Cross my heart.” Her eyes turned gold. “I’m a little kinder to my vessels than my brothers, boy. I don’t think we’ve met.”

           “Adam Milligan. I’m the youngest one.”

           “Hi!” Gabriel said, waving. “We’ll get properly acquainted later. For now, yes, Dean, Charlie’s okay with this.”

           “Can we get moving?” Dean asked, gritting his teeth. His arm was bright red now and pulsing.

           “Sure. Let Anna go, Dean.”

           Dean repeated the chant, and a second angel’s Grace came out of Dean’s arm and hovered, glowing, over Charlie. Charlie reached up and took hold of the Grace, pulling on it until it was all curled into her palm. She brought her hands together, and when she separated them again, the Grace was gone.

           “There you go, sweetheart,” Gabriel crooned. “You’re safe here, they won’t hurt you.”

           Balthazar came into the room and Gabriel’s head snapped up. Balthazar stared at Gabriel, and Adam was shocked to recognize the look on his face. He’d seen it before in the mirror, right before he met John Winchester the first time. That day had been disappointing for a number of reasons. He really hoped Balthazar wouldn’t feel the same way.

           “So you’re back,” Balthazar said. “And Anna. That’s a surprise. Purgatory hold all those that abandon their charges?”

           Gabriel flinched. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

           Balthazar clenched his fists. “I don’t suppose Castiel’s told you what happened in the last, oh couple of millennia?”

           “He told me what Naomi did,” Gabriel said. Adam stepped back; the air was starting to crackle with power. “She’s going to pay, Balthazar, I promise you.”

           “No, I promise you,” Balthazar all but snarled. “That bitch is mine.”

           Gabriel nodded. “Fair enough.”

           “Oh, how good of you,” Balthazar spat. He turned. “Come on; Dri needs you. Or did you forget about him? He was so small when you left; didn’t even know how to fly. Anna and I tried to teach him before they separated us, but Zachariah took over.” Balthazar walked out of the room, Gabriel following. Adam hesitated a moment before going too.

           Neither angel spoke as they made their way down the hall. Samandriel’s room was right between Hannah’s and Balthazar’s; the room with the most sunlight.

           Samandriel didn’t seem to notice it though. He was huddled under a blanket, his vessel shaking. Adam could see the faint outline of wings flung out on the bed at awkward angles. His eyes were closed in the faint light. Adam stood in the doorway, unable to leave the scene. He told himself that he was trying to watch over Charlie. But it was Balthazar, who sat on the bed and took his little brother’s pale hands in his own, that he was really scared for.

           Charlie stood still, looking down at Samandriel. “Dri?” she whispered.

           Samandriel opened his eyes. “Gabriel?” he croaked. “Are you—you came back? Cas found you?”

          Gabriel reached out carefully, her hand resting on Samandriel’s forehead. “I’m here, Dri.”

        “That’s good,” Dri whispered. He leaned into Charlie’s hand. “I missed you.”

        “I missed you too,” Charlie whispered. Tears fell from her eyes, which were steadily gold now. She leaned down and kissed Samandriel’s forehead.

        Adam watched, fascinated, as Samandriel began to glow with soft golden light. The angel’s wings straightened out, missing feathers regrew, and the last cuts and bruises faded from the vessel. Samandriel took a deep breath, and his eyes opened wide.

           Balthazar leaned forward. “Little brother? Dri?”

           Samandriel smiled, the first real smile Adam had ever seen. “It doesn’t…nothing hurts, Bal. Thank you, Gabriel.”

           “Sleep,” Gabriel replied. “You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be alright.”

           Samandriel closed his eyes. Gabriel looked at Balthazar. “He’ll need to sleep for a few hours.”

           Balthazar turned away. His shoulders were trembling.

           “Balthazar,” Gabriel said. “You have the right to be angry. I would never take that from you.”

           “Then why—” Balthazar stopped, his whole body starting to shake. “Why don’t you leave me alone?”

           “Do you want that?”

           “I…I should.” Balthazar shook his head. “I looked for so long, I grieved your death twice, why am I still h-happy?”

           Gabriel reached out a hand, let it rest on the bed not far from Balthazar. “Feel what you want. Just…just know that it nearly killed me to leave you, and I genuinely thought I was protecting you.”

           “How,” Balthazar said, his voice shaking, “in the ever loving FUCK did you being gone protect us?”

           Gabriel sighed. “Michael was always getting after me about the five of you. It was a bit of an experiment, having a whole generation of angels raised by archangels, and as far as Michael was concerned I was turning you into little rebels. It was a joke until Lucifer fell, and his fledglings fell with him.”

           Balthazar flinched. “I remember.”

           “What you might not remember is the amount of meetings I was having with Michael and Raphael,” Gabriel answered. “They were trying to purge out any last dissenters. I tried for ages to convince them, but I…they knew I was close to Lucifer. He taught me, after all. Michael finally threatened to take you all away from me for reprogramming. I didn’t know what that entailed, but I knew it was nothing good.”

           “So you left.”

           “I thought if I did they would leave you alone. After all, they might have been right. I did try to raise you to think and question and learn…there wasn’t much place for that in Michael’s regime. And you were all so young, I thought if I left you could maybe fall back in line, learn to be happy like that. Especially Cas; he had to be ready for the fucking Apocalypse.”

           “All that did,” Balthazar said, and Adam took a step back at his tone, “was leave us defenceless. Naomi has reprogrammed us all more than once. Look at my wings.” Balthazar spread large, olive green wings, the feathers scarred in several places. “You gave us freedom, and you taught us to be us, and then you just left and you didn’t fucking say goodbye. We thought you were dead! Did you ever think that might be worse?!”

           “No,” Gabriel said. Her face was lined with pain. “I truly, honestly didn’t, because I didn’t let myself think of that.”

           Balthazar looked down, still shaking. “I was no better, you know? Anna and I were the oldest, and we tried for a while to look for you, to protect the little ones, but it got too hard and we gave up.”

           Charlie’s eyes closed, and when they opened they were glowing blue. “We didn’t give up, Balthazar. We were forced to give in. They tortured us until they did. Don’t you know that now?”

           “How have you forgiven him?” Balthazar asked bitterly.

           “Maybe because I left too,” Anna—it must be Anna—suggested softly. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything hurt so much, and felt so wrong. Naomi didn’t do as good a job on wiping my memory as she did with the rest of you. Loving you wasn’t enough. Loving any of you wasn’t enough. I couldn’t be there anymore.”

           Balthazar clenched his hands. His eyes closed. “Gabriel?”

           Charlie’s eyes flashed gold. “Balthazar?”

           Balthazar reached out slowly, letting his fingers touch Charlie’s. “If you could do it over, would you say goodbye?”

           “No,” Gabriel said simply. “I’d take you with me.”

           Balthazar’s wings flared out and Adam braced himself. Angels were angry when their wings were flared that high…

           Unless, he discovered, the angel was only doing that to get them out of the way so they could hug their lost nester. Balthazar was sobbing openly, curled in Gabriel’s arms like a child, and Gabriel was rocking him gently. “I’m here,” she whispered, her eyes gold and flashing blue. “I’m here, Bal, it’s alright.”

           Adam stepped away. He figured they needed some privacy now.

           It took about twenty minutes for Gabriel and Balthazar to reappear, but no one said a word. Dean’s arm was still pulsing, and Adam was getting worried. Cas assured him that Dean was perfectly safe, but he had a vampire in his arm. Adam was pretty sure that was like having a ghost parasite possess you.

           Gabriel’s jaw dropped when she came back in. “Oh crap, Dean, sorry.” She raised her hands and spoke words in Enochian Adam had never heard. A flash of light nearly blinded him, and when the spots cleared from his eyes a man stood in the middle of the room. “How you doing, Benny?” Gabriel asked.

           Benny rolled his shoulders and stretched. Adam caught a glimpse of sharp teeth when the man—no, vampire—smiled. “Doing alright now. How’d you get my bones?”

           “Archangel,” Gabriel shrugged. “Trickster. Fake it til you make it really works.” She raised her eyebrows. “You hungry?”

           “Not really.”

           “Good. We’ll figure out some kind of blood bank for you later, but right now I’ve got to get my own back. I wanna give Red back her body.”

           “Isn’t your vessel…”Adam hesitated. “How can you get consent if they’re dead?”

           Gabriel smirked. “It’s not technically a vessel. It’s a body, but there was never a human soul in it. I made it from scratch ages ago—literally. It was hard to make, I don’t want to do it again.”

           “He’s right. He impressed us all when he showed us.”

           They all whipped around, and Adam’s whole body went cold. A woman stood on the balcony, her white dress a stunning contrast to her dark hair and skin. Her eyes were bright as she looked down at them all.

           Adam knew what power felt like. He’d felt it in the Cage, with the angels, with Meg, and now with Gabriel. He’d almost gotten used to it.

           This was something else entirely. The woman screamed wildness, a power that couldn’t be caged or tamed by an outsider. She made the rules, Adam realized, and she held her own strength in hand. She wouldn’t bow to anyone.

           “Holy fuck…” Dean whispered. “Kali.”

           Kali. Gabriel’s ex Kali? Lady-who-has-his-blood Kali?

           “Yes, Adam Milligan.”

           Apparently also Kali-who-can-read-minds.

           “How did you get in?” Sam croaked.

           Kali held up three vials of dark red liquid. “Those who have your blood may cross the wards. You may want to reword the spells.”

           “Fair point,” Dean agreed. Cas was gripping his shoulders, panic in his eyes. “So I guess you heard we were coming?”

           Kali shrugged and started walking down the stairs. No one else moved.

           “I’ve kept an eye on these vials over the last year. Blood magic is very useful; I could see when you were apart, when you were together.”

           “Have you done anything to us?” Sam asked.

           Kali smiled pityingly. “Samuel, you would have known if I had. No, I was just watching. Waiting. I was sure that someday at least one of you would remember that I held your life in my hands and would want it back. Imagine my surprise when I saw two of you together.” She glanced at Dean. “I suppose that was you. You stink of Purgatory.”

           Dean glared at her. Kali turned her attention to Gabriel, who hadn’t moved. “I thought you were dead, Loki. Oh, I’m forgetting, your name is Gabriel.” For the first time, her voice wavered.

           “Call me what you like,” Gabriel said, her voice flat.

           Kali waved her empty hand. “Once you came back into this life I knew you would want your creation back—you were always so absurdly proud of it. That should have told me you were not what you said.” A body appeared in the chair next to Dean; short and golden haired. It wasn’t breathing, but there was some kind of spark about it.

           “So, Gabriel.” Kali said the name like she’d never heard it before, and wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not. “What would you do to get this back? Would you have charged into my sanctuary with your little humans? Your children, too?” Her eyes fell on Hannah, Cas and Balthazar. “Why not fight me now?”

           Gabriel shook her head. “I’m…I can’t.”

           “Because you fear me.”

           “No, because I can’t. It has nothing to do with strength. I would have asked for it back so I can save my family. My nestlings were hurt, Kali, and my home is in trouble. I could fight in this body, but the girl who is in here doesn’t deserve to be tied to me for that long, especially not in battle. I am asking, Kali.”

           Adam was sure Kali was going to punch him, at the very least, but instead she smiled. “Foolish angel,” she said, and her voice was warm all of a sudden. “That was all you had to do.” She snapped her fingers.

           Charlie crumpled to the ground as Gabriel’s original vessel opened his eyes. Kali waved her hand, and he stood in front of her. “I will not apologize for what I did,” she said firmly.

           Gabriel smiled. “And I’m not going to apologize for lying,” he answered. “I did what I had to do.”

           “I did as well. At least, I thought I did.” Kali looked down at him. Then, in a voice Adam had to strain to hear, she said, “still love me?”            Gabriel pulled her down into a kiss. “Of course,” he answered when he pulled away.

           “That’s not our deal.”

           “Shut up. I died, I think I’m entitled to tell the truth once.”

           Kali brought her hands up to cradle his face. “I will allow that, प्रेमी”.

           “As my lady wishes,” Gabriel whispered.

           “What the fuck….”

           The couple broke apart and stared at Balthazar, who crossed his arms. “Is that not a normal reaction?”

           Kali laughed, and her dress turned red. “I like this one, Gabriel. He reminds me of Fenrir.”

           Gabriel looked nervous. “How is he? And the others?”

           “They miss you. You should go to them.”

           “I can’t right now, mon amour.” Gabriel was smiling but his eyes were serious. “Heaven’s in trouble, and I’ve got to sort it out before they realize I’m back.”

           “Do you want my help?”

           Gabriel took her hands. “Your power’s not the same kind as ours, remember? That’s the only reason Lucifer—” he spat the name—“could hurt you at all. The best thing you can do is go back and warn the others. If this gets ugly it might spread to Earth.”

           “It won’t. You’ll fix it, and come back to me. I’ll be angry if you don’t.” Kali kissed his hands. “I’ll tell your children you’re alive and will come to see them soon.” She let go and put the vials on the table. “Take this as a warning, Winchesters. Other deities would not be as kind.”            

           “Thank you,” Sam replied. “And…trust me, I know.”

           For a second, Kali’s eyes rested on Sam, then on Adam. “The cruelty of angels never ceases to amaze me, nor does their hypocrisy.” She spread her arms. “Good luck, Gabriel. I will pray for you.” She vanished in a flash of fire.

           Adam drew in a deep breath. “WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!”

           Dean burst out laughing. “I think Gabriel just got owned by his girlfriend.”

           Gabriel had a dreamy smile on his face. “I’ve missed her so much.”

           “Wait, hang on.” Sam had his I-have-a-burning-question face on. “You have other kids? Like…like Loki’s kids?”

           “Yep. Not the horse. That was a joke. And so not the time for baby pictures, Samsquatch.” Gabriel rolled up his sleeves. “Alright, Anna, time to make you a body. Then we’d better hold a council.” His face turned serious. “We’ve got some strategizing to do.”

Chapter 33: Bunkerites, Assemble!

          “Well, gang, ready to take Heaven on?”

           Everyone was in the dining room (that’s what they were calling it, Dean didn’t give a fuck what it was called on the blueprints, it was where they ate). Even Alfie was up now, still weak but he wasn’t in bed or bleeding Grace anymore so that was another win.

           Gabriel, looking more alert now, was tapping the table with an absurdly long pointer.

           “Sure, but how do we get there?” Sam asked. “Besides the traditional way.”

           “The goal is for all of you to go there and back again,” Gabriel agreed. “Well, sneaking into Heaven ain’t easy; it’s a lot easier to leave. Unless their alarm system’s gotten much worse since I was there—”

           “It hasn’t,” Cas and Balthazar said at the same time.

           “Then we’re going to have to be super stealthy. Which means we need to minimize the boarding party.”

           Dean winced as everyone started talking at once. “Guys, listen up! Gabriel’s right; we can’t all go.”

           “You volunteering to stay behind?” Gabriel asked.

           “Only if Cas is staying,” Dean said immediately. “We’re a package deal.”

           Gabriel glanced at Anna. “Weren’t you saying they would never get together?”

           “Yes, Gabriel, I understand. I owe you. I don’t have any candy right now.”

           “We may have to split up, dearest,” Cas said quietly. “Truly, I don’t think any angels should go at all.”

           “Why not?! You guys know Heaven better than anyone else!”

           “And if our goal is stealth, we probably shouldn’t send in all the fugitives at once!”

           “I think you’re both right,” Charlie offered.

            Dean frowned at her. “How are we both right?”

           “Well, we’ve kinda got to balance stealth and speed, right? The Garden is the goal, and having people who know the quickest road there will be helpful, but as a party you’ve got to minimize the attention-getters.”

           “So what do we do?”

           “Go in with a bang, then run like hell; maybe scatter if you can. Send some of the angels, but not all of them. And definitely not the angels people would expect.”

           “Which means I shouldn’t go anywhere near Heaven,” Cas said quietly.    

           “I think Queenie’s right.” Gabriel snapped and a whiteboard appeared. “Dean-o, if you’re going—and you should go, you and Sam have been before—Cas can’t go with you. Team Free Will’s got to split up.”

           Dean shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

           “No one likes this, Dean.” Gabriel’s eyes were uncharacteristically serious. “I should be able to just waltz through the front door and give Raph a talking-to, but if they’re in war mode and we don’t know who’s on first…I’m not keen on getting stabbed again. And I’m not letting any of you get stabbed either.”

           “Dean, he’s right,” Sam said.

           Dean cleared his throat. “Fine. Then what do we do?”

           “Well, the fastest way to get through Heaven is by jumping through the human Heavens. Now, angels can do this quickly, but for you guys it’ll be harder—”

            “Why can’t we use the math?”

           Gabriel quirked his brow. “You know the math?”

           “Ash showed us when we were there.”

           “Well, that’s a start. Heaven is pretty well built on calculus.”

           “Do you have to be good at it to get in?” Ben asked, horrified.

           “Nope. But I wouldn’t worry, kid. Your daddy’s got a great head for it.”

           “I do?” Dean asked, surprised.

           Gabriel snapped and a whiteboard appeared. He took a marker and wrote out a formula. “Solve that, Dean.”

           Dean stared at the numbers, surprised when they didn’t do their familiar dance. He took the marker from Gabriel and wrote out the answer.

           Gabriel clapped his hands. “Bravo.”

           “How did you do that?” Ben asked.

           “I don’t…you just take…I can’t explain it.”

           “It’s partly because you’re a vessel,” Gabriel explained. “And partly because you’ve actually got a good brain for numbers, just not the way humans tend to teach 'em. Point is, if I can get a door open, you can write a spell to get to the Garden using those numbers. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through that part.”

           Dean shrugged. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

           “There might be something else that will help,” Kevin offered.

           Everyone turned to the prophet, and he flushed. “Most of the angel tablet isn’t that useful, I guess, it’s mostly history, but it does mention a way out of Heaven.”

           “A way out?”

           “Yeah. It’s kind of…flowery, but basically there’s an emergency portal out in case the gates are closed. A ‘sanctified path to safety?’”

           “So why—you think we can access it from this side?”

           “I mean a door out is a door in if you try hard enough.”

           “Do you know where that is, Gabriel?” Balthazar asked.

           “I don’t, actually.” Gabriel studied Kevin. “Can you show me where you found that?”

           Kevin held out his Post-It Note stuffed notebook. Gabriel flipped through it. “Oh, that. Yeah, the flowery bit is a story. Michael took some of his nestlings down to Earth before the Fall, and their path became an exit.”

           “Then Naomi will know where it is,” Cas frowned. “She was one of his.”

           “She might, but she probably doesn’t think we can access it. Either way, you’d just be using it to get in; you’ll be running like crazy once you land.” Gabriel smirked. “I also know the kind of spellwork Michael used. We’ll be able to reverse engineer it in no time.”

           The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Dean worked with Anna and Hannah on the math part, writing out long lines of formulae that made sense as long as Dean didn’t think about it too hard. Sam and Charlie were going through the weapons stash with Balthazar. No one was saying it, but they needed to make sure they were armed. Balthazar seemed particularly focused on pointy things. Kevin and Adam were going through the tablet and Kevin’s notes, making sure that they weren’t missing anything.

           Every hour or so Dean took a break to check on Ben and Lisa. Lisa seemed more cheerful after her outburst, and she was trading recipes with Benny, who’d taken it upon himself to feed everyone. “I don’t really know what you’re doing, brother,” he told Dean. “But you all need to eat, and I can help with that.” Ben was flitting between the groups, looking alternately excited and terrified.

           At last it was twilight, and the attack party lined up. After several furious arguments, it was Dean, Sam, Adam, Charlie, Balthazar and Hannah. The others were going to run interference as much as possible by praying.

           “If we send up enough bullshit prayers it might jam the scanners a bit,” Linda said. “We’ll take shifts.”

           Dean hugged Cas as tight as he could. “We’ll be alright, babe,” he promised. “This is going to be all over soon.”

           Cas kissed him long and deep, regardless of their audience. “Be careful, dearest,” he said when he finally let Dean breathe again. “Promise me you will be careful.”

           “I promise.” Dean gave Ben a quick hug and stepped back into line. Hannah was the last to join them after a long, intense staring contest with Meg. Now that he and Cas were together, a lot of Sam’s jokes were starting to make sense. He owed his little brother an apology.        

           Gabriel faced them, his eyes serious. “Move as safely as you can. If they catch you we’re all in trouble. Summon me in as Loki and I’ll take care of the rest. Try not to engage if you can avoid it.”

           “Unless it’s Naomi or one of her ilk,” Balthazar agreed.

           Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Be careful, and may the Force be with you.” He snapped his fingers.      

Chapter 34: Barflies and Roadies

           Sam groaned as Adam landed on top of him. “Damn it, kid, get off me.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry,” Adam hissed back as he stood.

           Everyone else was still on their feet. They were standing in a garden—not the Garden, Sam knew instantly. Just an ordinary one, but it was very nice.

           “We’re in,” Dean said in disbelief. “It worked.”

           “Told you,” Sam said. “You’re a genius, Dean.”

           “Now what?” Charlie asked. “We’ve got to find somewhere safe, right? Before—”

           A high pitched, whining alarm went off.

           “Before that happens,” Dean finished. He grabbed the pencil Gabriel had given him, and started frantically scribbling in the dirt. Sam’s head spun as he tried to follow the figures, but math was never his strong suit.

           A flutter of wings had Sam spinning to see three angels, who all looked furious. “Dean!” Sam yelled. Balthazar and Hannah drew their blades beside him.

“Let’s not start this fight,” Hannah cautioned. “Let us be.”

           “Done!” Dean yelled. Sam whirled again to see a bright white square appear. Dean shoved Charlie and Adam through it. “C’mon!”

           Sam followed, Hannah and Balthazar hot on his heels. The light blinded him for a minute, and he was falling…

           When he landed, they were in an overgrown field, a rickety cottage in front of them.

           “Dean, close the portal!” Charlie screamed.

           “No time!” Dean rushed forward and wrenched the door of the cabin in. Sam scooped Charlie up and ran for the door. He pulled Dean in and yanked the door shut just before the angels reached it. He held it closed as Dean drew symbols on it. By the time he’d put the pencil down, the noise had stopped.

           “That should do it, boy. Don’t wreck the door.”

           Sam froze. He knew that voice. He turned around slowly.

           They hadn’t run into a cottage at all; it was a bar, smoke stained walls, bottles of dusty liquor and a pool table. Sam had never forgotten this bar.

           The Roadhouse. And Ellen Harvelle, looking much more peaceful than she ever had in life, was standing next to the pool table, arms held wide.

           “Ellen?” Dean croaked. None of them moved.

           “What, I’m dead a whole year and I don’t get a hug from either of you?” Ellen’s voice sounded stern, but her eyes were twinkling.

           “Now Mom, you know that might ruin their macho image.” Sam’s eyes went wide; Jo was sitting in the corner with…Ash? The lights started to go up, and Sam saw Pamela perched on a barstool.

           “How?”

           “Well this is Heaven,” Ellen pointed out. “There are some perks to being dead. This place is one of them.”

           Moving so quickly Sam didn’t see it, Dean rushed forward into Ellen’s arms. She laughed and hugged him close. “I’m alright, honey.”

           “ ’M sorry,” Dean whispered. “I’m so, so sorry…”

           “Shh, Dean.” Ellen patted his head.

           Jo and Ash joined them, and Sam came forward. “Are you all…are you all okay?”

           “We’re doing just fine, Sam.” Jo hugged him. “We’re so proud of you, you know. You did good.”

           Sam hugged her back, his throat tight. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Had to make everything you all did worth it.”

           Jo pulled away. “Don’t be stupid,” she said sternly. “We were gonna die sometime, at least it was useful.”

           “Sam, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Charlie was leaning against Hannah.

           “Right, sorry. Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pamela, this is Charlie, Adam, Balthazar and Hannah.”

           “I know,” Ellen said. “Nice to meet you all, but we better get you moving.”

           Sam raised his eyebrows. “How do you know them?”

           “Because we’ve been planning this for a while, Grumpy,” Pamela said with a smirk. “We’ve been watching you.”

           “How?” Hannah asked sharply. She raised her blade. “Are you spies?”

           “Not for that bitch,” Ellen replied. “Ash and Pamela figured out how to hook our TV up to show the people we’ve left behind.” She beamed at Dean. “Good to see you and Cas finally figured things out.”

           “I swear to—never mind.” Dean shook his head. “What’s the plan?”

           “You follow the road,” Ellen said. “We’ve got a good one planned out; old friends, family. We’ve been using it to connect this whole time, so it’s all set up. You’re gonna have to move fast, but if you have to stop, everyone’s got a place to hide you. And if worse comes to worse…well, we have a distraction ready too.”

           Balthazar considered her. “How have you managed this without anyone noticing?”

           Ellen laughed. “Honey, you pigeons haven’t even stopped people from running through the halls. The sneaky way? No one’s caught us.”

           Balthazar grinned. “You and I should have a chat later.”

           There was a banging at the door. Ellen grabbed Sam’s hand. “Come on, you’ve got to start running.”

           “What about all of you?”

           “We’re already dead, honey. What else can they do to us?” Ellen dragged him behind the bar. “There, go through the beer bottle.”

           Sam stared at the completely normal sized bottle of beer with a picture of a winding road on it. “How—”

           “Just go!” Ellen snapped in her mom-voice, and Sam jumped…

           And landed in a library. A man stood there that Sam had only ever seen in pictures. “Henry Winchester?” he asked.

           His grandfather—wow, that was weird—nodded impatiently. “Nice to meet you boys. I’m glad you found the Bunker at last.” His voice softened. “I wish John hadn’t…well, that’s not in my control. Follow me.”

           Sam and the others followed Henry through the library. Henry took two books of a shelf. “This is where you split up.”

           “What?” Sam looked at Dean. “We can’t split up—”

           “We’ve planned for this, don’t worry.” Henry flipped through both books, stopping on pictures of roads. “All the roads will converge at the end, but you’ve got to split up in two groups here. The angels are smart enough to start shutting down roads, so the more twisting you do the better.”

           Sam wanted to argue, but Dean pointed at Balthazar. “You take Adam and Hannah, Sam and Charlie are coming with me. He’s right…they’re all right…I don’t know.”

           Balthazar snarled, but he grabbed hold of Adam and Hannah and touched the first book. Looping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders, Sam leapt after Dean through the second.

           Charlie gasped when they landed. It was a small living room decorated for Christmas, snow falling softly outside. A woman with Charlie’s red hair and a warm smile stood by the tree. “Merry Christmas, Celeste,” she said.

           Charlie burst into tears and ran into her mother’s arms. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

           “Hush,” Charlie’s mother said. “Quiet, little princess—well, queen, now.”

           Charlie laughed, wiping her eyes. “Sam, Dean, this is my mom. Gertrude.”

           “Hi,” Dean said, giving an awkward wave.

           “Nice to meet you, Gertrude,” Sam said. He hesitated. “Charlie I’m sorry, but we have to—”

           “No, it’s okay,” Charlie smiled. “I…we’ve got places to go, people to save.”

           “Sounds like what you always wanted,” Gertrude said. “The three of you go upstairs, there are three paintings up there. Your Daddy’s done a lot of work since we’ve been here, Charlie.”

           “Three?” Sam asked. “We’re splitting up again?”

           “Don’t worry,” Gertrude reassured him. “It’s the last stop before you all converge. Dean, you’re the blue one, that’ll go through Andy Gallagher’s Heaven. Charlie, you’re going through the middle to your Dad. And Sam—”

           An alarm started blaring. Gertrude went pale. “Hurry, honey,” she said, pushing her daughter towards the stair. “Keep running, you’ll be alright. I love you!”

           “I love you too!” Charlie called over her shoulder as they bolted up the stairs. Sam waited until first Dean, then Charlie leapt through the paintings, watched as the canvases went blank and fell to the ground. He took a deep breath and plunged through the last.

           The alarm was still wailing when Sam landed in a bright, sunny kitchen, but he didn’t notice. Jess stood there, her hair in braids and wearing a bright blue dress. “Sam,” she said, her voice the exact way he remembered it.

           Sam couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The alarm got louder, and Jess’ smile faded. “Come on, baby, come with me.”

           She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a closet. Pressed close together, Sam could hear the silence where her heartbeat used to be.

           “They can’t hear us in here,” Jess said, stepping back a little. “We just have to wait until the alarm stops.”

           Sam nodded, blinking in the darkness. He could sort of see her, eyes shining in the crack of light from the kitchen. “Where are we?”

           Jess smiled. “This is my house when I was seventeen,” she said. “We moved so much, remember?”

          “Your mom was in the air force,” Sam remembered.

          “Yeah, but she retired and they bought this house. It was my favourite place in the world.”

           Sam blinked hard. “Jess, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”        

          “Oh Sam, don’t be. It’s okay.”

          “It’s not,” Sam choked out. “I…if I hadn’t been me, Brady wouldn’t have killed you.”

           “A demon killed me,” Jess corrected. “The demon possessing Brady. Brady was dead before we were introduced.”

           Sam flinched. Another life on his hands.

           “But Sam…if you weren’t you, I wouldn’t have been as happy as I was that year and a half.” Jess touched his face. “That was a great time. I don’t regret a minute, I really don’t. And maybe…maybe it was better that way.”

           “What do you mean?” Sam asked, leaning away.

           Jess took his hands. “Baby, we haven’t got much time, so I’ll make it fast. You know we weren’t right for each other.”

           Sam’s heart sank, but Jess just squeezed his hands. “I loved you, Sam, and I know you loved me, but I don’t know if we would have lasted. Even if we did…you never told me about hunting.”

           “Because I was trying to protect you!”            “Yes, you were. But you were also scared to tell me because you didn’t think I’d react well. And maybe I wouldn’t have. I don’t know.” Jess pulled him close, put her arms around him. “Sam, we were two kids in love and we didn’t want the world to matter. But it does. And you need somebody now that can stand with you, someone that can love you better.”

           Sam held her, his heart breaking because he knew she was right.

           “Find her,” Jess whispered.  “I’ll always love you, baby, and I want to see you when you do get to Heaven, but your heart needs more than I can give.”

           Sam kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Jess. For everything.”

           “You’re welcome.” The alarm was growing fainter, and Jess peeped through the crack. “I think it’s safe now. The weird light’s gone.”

           Sam opened the door carefully, putting himself between Jess and the outside. The alarm died out completely, no sound anywhere. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice thick. “Which way?”

           “Front door,” Jess said. She was crying too. “Goodbye Sam. Good luck.”

           Sam kissed her forehead, held her close one last time. “Goodbye Jess. Be happy.” Then he ran for the door.

           He collided with Balthazar, falling back as the angel threw him to the ground.

           “Damn it, boy, watch where you’re going!”

Balthazar was tense, his blade in his hand. Hannah stood next to him. Dean was trying to help Charlie to her feet, the redhead wincing with pain and clutching her ankle.

           “Where’s Adam?” Sam asked tensely.

           A door opened in thin air and Adam leapt through, his face tear stained. “Mom,” he managed. “The angels, they’re coming.”

           They were in another garden, this one much bigger than the first. There were rosebushes everywhere, dozens of lilies, so many more that Sam didn’t recognize.

           “Are we here?” Sam asked.

           “This is it,” Balthazar nodded. “The archangel’s garden. Gabriel brought us here when we were small.”

           The door Adam had jumped through hadn’t closed, and Sam scrambled to his feet. “Adam, come with me!” He pulled his brother out of the way just in time. Three angels came through the door; two in male vessels, one in a female one.

           In less than a second, Balthazar had grabbed hold of the woman. “Hello, Naomi,” he snarled, “this is courtesy of the nest you broke.” He rammed his blade through the top of the woman’s head. The angel screamed, light streaming from the vessel’s eyes. Balthazar flung the body from him, and Naomi fell to the ground, her wings only shadows on the ground. One of the angels threw his head back and yelled. Several more angels appeared, all with their blades drawn.

           Sam couldn’t take another second to worry for his friends, for his brother who drew his mate’s blade, for Charlie, who was still trying to get up. He and Adam ran to the other side of the garden. Sam started praying, even though he knew Gabriel might not hear yet. Gabriel, we need you to get here now! Adam’s started the ritual.

           With a grimace, Adam cut his arm and started dabbing at the blood, spreading it on the wall. Sam copied him, trying to ignore the sounds of battle behind him.

           That worked until he heard a yell. “CHARGE!”

           He spun around, hardly understanding what he was seeing. All the people who’d guided them through Heaven, and several more that he recognized—some of the psychic kids, victims from old cases, hunters Sam just barely remembered— were leaping through opened portals with weapons. They weren’t hurting the angels, Sam could see that, but they couldn’t be hurt either—a blade passed through Ellen’s shoulder and she slapped the angel across the face.

           A distraction, Sam realized with awe.

           “Sam!”

           “Right.” Sam turned back to the wall. His heart sank. There was no way they were going to finish this in time. His arm wasn’t bleeding right; it was already clotting.

           We need a miracle.

           Taking a deep breath, Sam gouged deeply into his arm, smearing the blood as quickly as he could, ignoring the pain. He was having trouble staying upright, but Adam took his hand and together they pressed on the symbol they’d drawn—Gabriel’s horn.

           A huge horn blast sounded, loud and high and clear.

           Then a voice—not Gabriel’s, one Sam had never expected to hear again—shouted “STOP!”

Chapter 35: Ground Control to Major Kevin

           Kevin lifted his hands. “Done!”

           And he really was, Cas marvelled. He couldn’t read it the way the prophet could, but he’d watched his eyes move over the tablet. It was finished.

           “Well done Kevin,” he said. “That was not easy. You’ve done well.”

           “Can I take a nap now?” Kevin joked. The bags under his eyes were getting disturbingly big.

           “Of course,” Cas said. “I can put you to sleep if you like.”

           “Nah, I think I’ll just crash on the couch.” To suit action to word, Kevin took two steps and collapsed on the couch, curling into a small ball. “Wake me up when there’s something else for me to—agh!”

           Cas watched, alarmed, as the boy slumped to the ground, clutching his head. “Kevin?!” Then he recognized the signs. He picked the boy up as Gabriel came sprinting in the room.

           Kevin struggled in his arms, eyes glowing. “Have to—go! Need to answer!”

           “Answer what?” Cas asked helplessly.

           “He wants me to come.”

           “Who?” Cas asked, alarmed. Had the angels found a way to reach Kevin even within the Bunker?

           Gabriel pressed his hand to Kevin’s forehead. His face went blank as Kevin stilled. “It’s not the angels.”

           “Gabriel?”

Gabriel didn’t answer. He took Kevin from Cas, laid him on the sofa. “It’s not Raphael, Cas.”

           “Then who is it? Brother, what is going on?”

           “Kevin was sent a Message,” Gabriel answered. It took Cas a second to realize his brother had used the Enochian word.

           “That’s impossible,” he whispered. “Those come from you.”

           “No. You’re too young to remember this, but there was a time, long ago, when I wasn’t the messenger. When he sent messages personally.”

           “Father?” Cas whispered, his voice breaking. “But he’s…he’s gone.”

           “Apparently not.” The bitter laugh sounded so like Balthazar’s; a step away from fury, a whisper away from a sob.

           “But…Cas couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

           Gabriel swore loudly, kicking the table. “He is alive! I looked for years!”

           “You did?”

           “I…” Gabriel looked guilty. “I did, yes. That’s why I knew your search wasn’t going to work. He doesn’t want to be found.”

           “Well He…has He changed his mind?” Cas was trembling as he stared at Kevin. A terrible thought occurred. Was Kevin a false prophet, a creature sent to tempt them out of hiding?

           Gabriel laughed. “Oh Cas, you never give up on people, do you? No, Kevin’s real. Guess Dad didn’t want to check in for the Apocalypse.”

           “What do we do?”

           Bobby poked his head in. “Will you two keep it down? We’re trying to pray and—what happened?”

           “Kevin is being Summoned.” Gabriel’s voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. “By God.”

           There was a pause.

           “You mean that son of a bitch ain’t dead?!”

           “We don’t have a grandma, Singer.”

           Bobby glared at Gabriel. “Is it real?”

           “As far as I can tell. I used to be the Heavenly postman. The vision’s real.”

           “What did he see?” Cas asked.

           “I saw a man.”

           Kevin was sitting up; Cas raised his hand but Kevin raised his own. “He’s…he wants us to come. He said he’s ready to talk. ‘Things have gone on long enough.’”

           Gabriel closed his eyes and looked away. “Where is he?”

           “Kripke’s Hollow,” Kevin said without thinking.

           Cas was plunged into memories—of Dean bitching about a book series, of staying to protect an author from the wrath of an archangel…telling the prophet that they were ‘making it up as they went along’.

           Chuck. But—it couldn’t be. Cas had been in the same room with him; he’d spoken to the man, told him of his quest to find God.

           Gabriel cursed. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

           “I didn’t know,” Cas said numbly. “I didn’t know, I swear.”

           “Of course you didn’t!” Gabriel snapped. “Dad didn’t interact directly with anyone except us archangels and Metatron. How would you recognize him, especially if he was in a human vessel?”

           “I had Dean’s amulet. Why didn’t it work?”

           Gabriel laughed bitterly. “He probably turned it off.”

           “Can he…” Cas shook his head. It didn’t matter. “What are we going to do?”

           “You’ve got to go,” Bobby said.

           “Like hell! After this many millennia, you expect us to just go running back?” Gabriel turned away.

           “Look, Loki,” Bobby snapped, “I don’t see how much choice you have. We’re in the middle of a situation, in case you haven’t noticed—”

           “We can handle it!”

           “And if Raphael doesn’t just back down?” Bobby challenged. “I know you want to trust her, but I’m not risking my boys on that! Are you gonna risk your kids?”

           “For the seven thousandth time they’re not my kids, they’re my nestlings! We all have the same father!”

           “That didn’t answer my question,” Bobby said. “And just to point something out, the last time you thought you could outsmart a sibling, you wound up in Purgatory.”

            Gabriel went utterly, utterly still.

           “That was out of line,” Cas said.

           Gabriel shook his head. “No, Cas, he’s right.”

           “You might not have to fight Raphael,” Cas tried, worried now. He remembered the agony of being torn apart by that archangel’s Grace. Cas had given his forgiveness, but forgetting was impossible.

           “And if I do?” Gabriel looked sideways. “Maybe I deserve that.”

           “You do not.”

           “I wish you were in charge of that, Little Wings.” Gabriel tried for a smile. “No Singer, you’re right. If he wants to get involved…well, quite literally, who am I to judge?”

           “He still owes you an apology,” Bobby said gruffly. “And I ain’t saying he’s right. He reminds me too much of other fathers I’ve known. But this might be our best chance. We should take it.”

           Kevin started to shiver on the couch. “Guys, can we go?” he asked.

           Bobby looked at Gabriel.

           “I can…I can snap you there,” Gabriel answered. “You’d better go fast, he’s getting some kind of fever.”

           “What about—”

           Gabriel laughed. “There are beings millennia old here, and Singer? You’re the one I trust to sort it out. Go with him, Cas. You believed longest.”

           Cas nodded. He picked Kevin up, the boy shaking in his arms. “We’re ready, brother.”

           Gabriel snapped his fingers. Cas winced as he was pulled along the tunnel, his wings longing to flap but unwilling to disturb the spell. He supposed he owed Dean an apology.

           They landed in front of the house Cas had first died in. He’d died to protect what he thought was an innocent prophet, to give Dean time to run. Chuck had put his hand on his shoulder.

           What had happened? What had he done so wrong that his father had stood by and let him be destroyed?

           Cas knew he couldn’t swallow his rage and hurt forever, but he also knew that right now just wasn’t the time.

           Kevin struggled in his arms and Cas put the boy down, following when Kevin ran up to the house. Kevin knocked on the door confidently, while Cas hung back. Bobby squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, son.”

           “I hope you’re right,” Cas muttered.

           The door swung open. Chuck stood there, in the same bath robe, the same slippers, but his face had changed a bit. This wasn’t a nervous prophet.

           This was the Lord.

           Nobody spoke as they went inside. Kevin had calmed, and he was staring at Chuck like he held all the answers in the world.

           Well, doesn’t he?

           Chuck sat across from Cas and Bobby, Kevin hovering between them. “Do you want to sit down, Kevin?” he asked.

          Cas shuddered. It was as if he could hear Chuck’s voice properly for the first time. That was no human voice.

           “I’m okay,” Kevin said honestly. “It’s you…isn’t it?”

           “Yes.”

           Cas bowed his head.

           “It wasn’t the time for you to know, Castiel.” Chuck was looking at him, but Cas refused to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t interfere with the Apocalypse.”

           “To quote my mate,” Cas said without looking up, “you couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

           Chuck didn’t answer right away. “You’re angry.”

           Cas sighed. How many years had he dreamed of this moment? To see his Father for real, for the first time since he was created? The only memory he’d had was that first, long ago warmth. Now he just felt empty.

           “I know I’m not what you expected.”

           “No, I’m fairly certain I did not expect God Almighty to be masquerading as a prophet,” Cas agreed. “How did that come to be?”

           “Well, it’s actually a long story—”

           “We don’t have time for long.”

            “When I left Heaven, I went to Earth,” Chuck answered. “I did try to help humanity. I stayed, I listened to their prayers, I helped them.”

           “Well, that’s nice.”

           “No, it wasn’t!” Chuck shook his head. “It was terrible. No matter who I helped, the other side called on me too. They kept expecting me to settle their problems, to intervene.”

           “Sounds like parenthood.”

           “But I’m not a parent, Robert Singer.” Chuck fidgeted. “I mean, I am, but I fucked that up.”         Cas looked up and winced at the raw pain in Chuck’s face.

           “I couldn’t parent the angels. Not the way…the way I wanted to. I didn’t know how, and by the time I thought I figured it out, it was too late. Much, much too late.” Chuck looked away. “I watched my son Fall. My children, Fall. Because I couldn’t teach them how to love each other properly.”

           “Then I tried again with the humans, and I was so glad I hadn’t given them the ability to harness soul energy. I was going to, you know? But I didn’t. It didn’t matter. They destroyed each other anyways, so often in my name…and nothing I did stopped it.”

           “The only thing I could think to do was to stop trying to be a father. I saw good parents in the angels, in the humans. I’d created something I could never be myself, and maybe the best thing I could do was step away.”

           Cas pressed his lips together.

           “I sent myself into the fabric of the universe,” Chuck explained. “Eventually I became human myself. I can remember those lives now—the men and women I loved, the deeds I did, the happiness I found. But I never had children. Even when I was furthest from myself I still knew that children were not for me.”

           Cas flinched. “What…what brought you back to yourself, Father?”

           “The Apocalypse,” Chuck answered. “Charles Shurley was the last prophet—well, he was once Lucifer fell. There are more now, after Kevin. Don’t worry, kid, you’ve got a while before that happens.” He took Kevin’s hand. “I don’t remember the exact moment when things changed; when I realized that I was no longer a prophet, but…”

          “God himself?” Bobby supplied.

          Chuck nodded. “And when I did…when I took stock of what I’d done…I realized that anything I did would make things worse. So I stopped you from finding me, Castiel, you and the other angels.”

           Cas nodded. “So…why have you called us here?”

           Chuck brightened. “Oh, yes. Better deal with the present.” He pulled a stone tablet from his pocket, just big enough to fit in his pocket. “This should help you with sorting things out. Don’t worry, it’s in Enochian, you’ll be able to read it.”

           “Why don’t you come back and fix it yourself?” Bobby asked, making no move to take the tablet.

           Chuck stared at him. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

           “Of course I did.” Bobby crossed his arms. “I heard the story of a God who gave up when things got hard, and doesn’t know how to fix it!”

           “I can’t fix it!”

           “You haven’t even tried.”

           “It’s too late,” Chuck said simply. “Much too late. The hurt I’ve caused, the trouble…nothing I will ever do can undo that.”

           “Doing nothing don’t help either! You have to go back,” Bobby snapped.

           “It’s not that simple!”

           “My boys have been to HELL because of you!” Bobby exploded. “Your children have suffered—Alfie’s still getting over his wounds, and the others remember theirs! Heaven’s crumbling, and has been for years. You didn’t have to be a helicopter parent, but was it too much for them to be able to ask for help?”          

           Chuck turned away. Cas closed his eyes. Of course his Father wouldn’t come back. Why would he? They’d all made too many mistakes. They didn’t deserve help.

           In less than a blink of an eye, Chuck grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he snapped. Cas tried to lean back, overwhelmed by the power rolling off the former prophet. “Of course you deserve…Castiel, you deserve the world.”

           “What for?” Cas tried to turn his head. “We’ve all disobeyed your Word, and sometimes for the better!” He pulled away, suddenly furious. “The man I love has suffered unbelievable torture. You gave me the mission to save him…and if your story had gone the way you wanted, would he have lived to kill his brother? Or would I have known him just long enough to love him before I lost him?”

           Chuck smiled sadly. “Who’s to say it didn’t go the way I hoped?”

           Cas couldn’t answer.

           “Castiel, you didn’t see it, did you? It’s alright, it was always a long shot. Why do you think Sam and Dean were never like Lucifer and Michael? They didn’t give up on each other; not ever, not really. Why wouldn’t I give my sons vessels sympathetic to their causes in all ways, if I wanted the apocalypse? No. I gave their vessels you.”

           Cas shook his head, but Chuck took his chin in his hand. “Castiel, you were my best chance. The world’s best chance. Those boys needed someone to believe in, and someone to believe in them, if they were going to have the strength to fight for the world.”

           “You never wanted the Apocalypse.” Cas couldn’t believe it.

           “I wanted the world to have a chance,” Chuck corrected. “It was inevitable, the fighting between Michael and Lucifer. They are too much…well, too much like me. Too much like each other. So I gave them an option to fight…and vessels that might make them reconsider, vessels with an angel on their shoulders who wanted what was best for them.”

           Cas stared back at his father. “It…it was me? I didn’t do wrong?”

           “Of course not! You did exactly what I hoped you would.” Chuck’s face softened, his eyes full of pain. “Child, my child, you’ve suffered so terribly, and if I could have changed that, I would have. But I am proud of you, so proud.”

           Cas blinked hard. “Then come back.”

           “What?”

           “If my mate…if my human family has taught me anything, it’s that it is never too late to seek forgiveness. Not if there is real love.” Cas put his hands on his father’s shoulders, marvelling that Chuck let him do so. “You must face the consequences of what you have done, but Father I…” Cas swallowed hard. “I forgive you. And I ask you please, come home.”

           Chuck drew Cas close. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice breaking. Could God cry?

           “Yes. I don’t know that I would have done anything better,” Cas laid his cheek against his Father’s shoulder. “We need you.”

           “And what if I fail you?” Chuck drew back, his eyes haunted. “Fail you like I’ve done so many times before?”

           “I’ll tell you one thing,” Bobby broke in. “You might think you break everything you touch, but if you don’t touch anything at all…everything breaks.”

           Chuck smiled. “You’re a wise man, Bobby Singer. And a good one.”

           Bobby shrugged. “I’m just trying to protect those that need it.”

           “You’re one up on me,” Chuck said. He turned to Kevin. “You and I will talk later about being a prophet, alright? We’ll get into the fun stuff.”

           “That can wait,” Kevin said. “Let’s go save Heaven first.”

           Chuck grinned. “Thus spake the Prophet.” He clapped his hands.

Chapter 36: Chuck Ex Machina

          Angels, humans…they froze as one.

           Adam could see Gabriel, but Cas, Kevin and Bobby were also standing in the middle of the garden. There was someone else with them; a short man with curly brown hair in a bathrobe. Adam had never seen him before, but he knew without a doubt that he was the one who’d shouted.

           “Chuck?” Sam asked. He looked just as confused as Adam felt, but Dean drew in a sharp breath.

           The angels started kneeling. The room was so quiet; no one spoke. It sounded like no one was breathing.

           Charlie gasped and sat up, her ankle straight again. Adam looked down; his own skin was healed. What—what was going on?

           “Who are you?” Jo asked. Smart girl.

           Gabriel glanced at the shorter man. “I think you should clue in the humans, Pops. They know you as someone a bit different, remember.”

           Pops? POPS?!

           “It can’t be,” Dean whispered. “You—you’re—a freaking prophet!”

           “Yeah…not so much.” The man—Chuck—looked a little ashamed. “It was a good cover, though. One of my better ideas. Even though it wasn’t really my idea.”

           Charlie was trying to get to her feet; Jo pulled her up, looping an arm around her waist.

           “What the fracking…are you serious?!”

           Chuck winced. “Don’t worry, the yelling’s been covered.”

           “Has it?” Dean snapped. “Has it really? Because I think there’s more than a few of us here who looked for you. Who needed you.”

           Chuck’s gaze remained steady. “I’ll get to that in a moment. He turned and faced the angels. Adam felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

           “My children,” Chuck said, and it wasn’t the prophet’s voice anymore; it got into Adam’s head, pounded in his heart. “My children, I have returned.”

           Way to state the obvious, Adam thought.

           “I know that things have not been right for a long time,” Chuck continued. “In the Apocalypse, I know that some of you searched for me. Searched for answers. And I did not provide them, at least not in the way you expected.” The Voice sounded sorrowful now. “So many of you bear wounds that should not be there. There are faces missing from your ranks. And I will take my own responsibility for this.”

           No one spoke.

           “But this is part of why I left in the first place.” Chuck continued. “I believed that by interfering too much, I was restraining you from making your own choices. I was being a helicopter parent before they were even invented.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “I thought stepping away might make things better. I was wrong.”

           “I stepped away too far, and by the time I realized my mistake it was too late. I could not undo what I had done, so I stayed away. I felt shame. I never knew I could. Over the years I have done what I could to reach out, try to keep you on the right path, but as the years went on my power has faded. I was becoming human.”

           Adam was shaking.

           “When the Apocalypse happened, I began to remember who I was, and I was very upset.” It wasn’t a human voice anymore, not really. “I felt that my children had learned nothing, and if they were so bent on destroying the world then let them. I failed to see that so many of you were looking for other answers.” Chuck’s gaze swept the room. Adam trembled for the moment they rested on him. “My anger blinded me, and I left you to decide alone.”

           Raphael was sobbing, her head bowed. Chuck smiled at her sadly. “Get up, child.”

           “I truly thought you gone,” Raphael choked. “I just wanted—I wanted things to be easy again.”

           Chuck walked over to her and raised her to her feet. “I know, Raphael. You have erred in your search for power, but I can understand your motives.”

           “I never knew what Naomi did,” Raphael swore. She looked desperately between Gabriel and Chuck. “I swear, I would never have—”

           “You didn’t know what reprogramming meant, but you let her do it!” Gabriel snapped.

           Raphael lowered her head. “It worked for me.”

           “What?” Gabriel was by her side in an instant. “Show me your wings.”

           Raphael’s wings came into view—huge, midnight blue with stars caught in the feathers. Angry slashes cut down the edges.

           Gabriel reached out and touched the scars. “Raphael, who did this?”

           “I don’t know,” Raphael whispered. “I thought they were always there.”

           Gabriel spoke in Enochian, and soft golden light travelled up the scars. As they faded, Raphael closed her eyes. “It is good to see you, Gabriel. I missed you.”

           “I missed you too.” Gabriel’s wings, giant and golden, spread out and he brushed them against Raphael’s. “I’m glad…glad it wasn’t you. Glad we don’t have to fight.”

           “I never wanted to fight,” Raphael admitted. “I was just…so tired.”

           “No wonder, with these marks,” Gabriel growled. “Father…”

           Chuck nodded. “Everyone, get to your feet! You need not kneel to me.” He raised his hands, and Adam shivered as a wave of pure power washed over him. He watched in fascination as the angels rose as one, their wings shimmering bright. Adam saw wounds healing, faces relaxing; he drew in a sharp breath when faces started appearing. People he’d never seen, but he knew had to be angels.

           “You have all earned a second chance,” Chuck announced. “I will stay and sort things out, try to earn my place back as your father. You are all still free—free to choose, to leave if you wish. But Heaven will be barred to none.”

           Tears blurring his vision, Adam drew in a deep breath as shouts of joy filled the air. The angels embraced each other, some of them flying into the air, doing cartwheels.

           “Balthazar, get down from there!” Cas called.

           Balthazar did a second flip and flew directly at Cas, knocking him to the ground. “Wonderful, Cassie! Isn’t it wonderful?”

           Adam saw Hannah, suddenly, standing and looking wistfully at Chuck—God—what the hell was he supposed to call him?

           “Hannah?” Chuck asked. “What is it, daughter?”

           Hannah walked forward a few steps, then threw herself to her knees. “Lord…Father, I beg a boon.”

           “What is it you want, Hannah?”

           “Father I…I have learned to love a demon. Her name is Meg, and she is so much more than what she once was. She makes me feel…makes me feel beautiful.” Hannah raised her tear stained face. “I will not call this love wrong, and I am not asking for forgiveness. I am asking that you…that you give her back her soul, untarnished by demonhood. I will give up my Grace for this.”

           Chuck bent and gently took her hands. “That won’t be necessary. Your lover is cleared to walk beside you in Heaven, and she may keep her powers.” He chuckled. “She’d be furious otherwise.”

           Hannah’s face lit up. “Really?”

           “Of course. Which reminds me.” Chuck raised his hands again and everyone stopped moving. “Several of you are in vessels now, in order to commune with humanity. And I believe this to be wise, since you should travel to Earth and experience its wonders. However, this should not come at the cost of human experience.” More light, shining blue now, travelled from his hands, brushing over every angel. “You now have bodies you may leave at will, but they no longer contain a human soul. Your vessels have been returned to their families, and the pain of their separations will be undone.” He smiled at Cas. “Jimmy is back with his wife and daughter. They will have those years back.”

           “Thank you, Father,” Cas whispered.

           “As for the humans who have worked so hard to bring our family back together, to protect the Earth I left undefended…” Chuck stared right at Dean before smiling. “I think your families ought to be allowed to visit every once in a while. What do you think?”

           Dean gulped, tears in his eyes. “That’d be…that’d be awesome.”

           Chuck smiled. “It will take some time to sort out, but it will be done. We’ll see about getting some phone lines in, too.”

He turned and met Adam’s eyes, and started walking towards him and Sam. Adam seriously considered running. But Sam put his arm around him, stood tall and proud.

           “I don’t know what to say to you,” Chuck admitted, his voice so heavy with grief Adam winced. “You both suffered unimaginably at the hands of my sons, and my help could have saved you.”

           “I don’t know about that,” Sam replied, his voice barely a whisper. “They were so angry…I don’t know that you could have stopped them fighting. And you did help, didn’t you? This time. You sent the visions.”

           Chuck nodded. “You needed to find Kevin and Gabriel. That seemed to be the quickest way.”

           “Thank you.” Sam smiled. “That was really helpful.”

           Chuck didn’t smile. He held up his hands. “I can heal you both, if you like.”

           “Heal us?” Adam whispered. “What do you mean?”

           “Your wounds have already begun to fade; they were made by hate, so love has some power to undo them. But there are some that won’t heal without help.”

           “Why…sorry, but why wouldn’t we let you help us?” Adam asked. Then he groaned. “Sam, no.”

           “I didn’t say anything!” Sam protested, but Adam saw him blush. “What, I think I can handle this.”

           “You don’t have to,” Chuck said. “I can heal you. There will always be scars, but…”

           “Yes,” Adam said quickly. “Please, that’d be…awesome.”

           Chuck smiled for a fraction of an instant. He didn’t touch them, but his hands began to glow.

           Adam closed his eyes as warmth sank into his veins. Suddenly the memories of the Cage, which were constantly hovering around his brain, started to fade. They weren’t gone, exactly—Adam could still feel their presence, but they didn’t hurt anymore.

           He opened his eyes and looked at Sam, who was crying silently. “Sam?”

           Sam grabbed hold of him and hugged him fiercely. “Adam,” he whispered, “Adam, it’s gone. He’s gone!”

           Adam felt tears of his own come. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, remembering his manners.

           “You’re welcome,” Chuck said kindly. “Now just so you’re aware, you’re probably still going to have nightmares. I can’t take away the experience entirely.”

           “This is fine,” Sam answered, wiping his eyes.

           “You’ll be better than fine,” Chuck said. “You’ll finish healing; you’ll have your friends with you, your family. You’ll build a life you can be proud of, feel safe and happy. Adam—” and Chuck looked stern for a moment—“take care of my prophet.”

           “Uh…yessir.”

           “And Sam?” Sam looked nervous, but Chuck smiled again. “I promise you, you’ll find the right woman. Someone who accepts that hunting is part of your life, and still wants to be in it.”

           “How will I know?” Sam asked.

           “You want a sign?” Chuck thought it over. “Okay, it will be the day after your first dreamless night. That’s when you’ll speak to her again.”

           “Wait—again?”

           Adam meant to let him keep talking, but something struck him. “Um, Chuck? Sir?”

           “Chuck is fine. What is it?”

           “I just…” Adam glanced at Sam. “You said Heaven would be barred to none. So what about…”

           “Oh, of course.” Chuck’s face fell. “No, Lucifer and Michael will not be returning to Heaven. Not until they’re sorry.”

           “They lie,” Adam said before he could stop himself. “How will you know?”

           “I’ll know when they mean it,” Chuck replied. “I’ll know when they have taken the time to work through their grievances with each other, with me, with the world. They used the two of you as a distraction, a means of purging their anger, and they will have to atone for that as well.”

           “How long…how long will that take?” Sam asked.

           “If I know my sons, and I think I do, I would say a thousand years before they are ready to truly ask for forgiveness.”

           Adam gulped. A thousand years, that was only ten years. He’d be in his thirties, he would have to see Michael…

           “You misunderstand me,” Chuck broke in. “I mean a thousand Earth years.”

           Adam blinked. “S-seriously?” he stuttered.

           “They are archangels. Their tempers are hot. You will be safely in Heaven by that point, and if you do not wish to see them you will not.”

           Adam sagged against Sam. “The rocks,” he remembered to ask. “How we got out—was that you?”

           Chuck actually blushed. “Um, not exactly. The rocks that fell in with you couldn’t break down entirely since they were Earth objects, but they could break through. The Cage was built to contain archangels, not humans, so I guess you two just…got around that loophole.”

           “Are you telling me we got out of Hell, out of Lucifer's Cage because we broke the rules?!”

           Chuck grinned sheepishly. “That is exactly what I’m telling you.

           Sam laughed. “Guess that Winchester blood’s pretty strong, huh Adam?”

           Adam rolled his eyes. “Chuck, will you…will you tell them that they have a chance? To get out, I mean?”

           Chuck raised his eyebrows.

           “They might not try if they think…if they think there’s no point.”

           Chuck nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Farewell, Sam, Adam. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

           “What wedding?” Adam asked, but Chuck had teleported to a group of angels.

            “So…that was God.” Sam sounded like he’d been hit over the head.

           “Yup.”

           “Okay.”

           “Guys!” Dean was beaming, a woman with blonde hair and Sam’s smile right beside him. “Sam, this is—”

           “Mom,” Sam gasped.

           Adam stepped away to give them some privacy. He wasn’t Mary’s son, after all. He started to go look for his mom, but a girl about his age stopped him. “Hi, you’re Adam, right?”

          “Yeah. What’s your name?”

           “I’m Katie.” She was a lot taller than him, with dark skin and huge brown eyes. “Can you do me a favour?”  

          “Sure, what do you need?”

          “Can you please tell Bobby to stop lying to my dad? He’s been taking the blame for my screw-up for too long.”

          “Who are you?”

          “Katie. Katie Turner.”

          “Oh.” Adam winced. “I mean…Chuck—God—He just said people could visit…”

          “Yeah, and I will. But I want my dad to forgive his best friend first.”

          “I promise,” Adam said. Katie beamed and vanished. Literally. Into thin air.

          There seemed to be perks to being dead.

          Adam took a deep breath, still surprised by how easy it was now. Nothing hurt. He wasn’t cold. And Michael’s voice was quiet for the first time.

          He was going to go find his mom. He was going to say goodbye and see you soon to the people who’d helped them.

          And then he was going to go home.

         There were perks to being alive too.

Chapter 37: New Sheriffs In Town 

           Dean didn’t really want to go back. He’d gotten to talk to his mom, his mom was coming to visit, his mom thought Cas was awesome…all their other family here...there wouldn’t be enough time if they stayed a thousand years.  But Chuck had promised visits within two months, and everyone on Earth was probably freaking out. So, with one last hug for Mom and Jo, and waving to the others, Dean held on tight to Cas and they made the jump back to Earth.

           Lisa and Benny were drinking at the table. They both leapt to their feet when they saw the group. “What on…what happened?”

           Adam raised his arms. “Everything’s okay!”

           “Seriously?!”

           “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Dean said honestly, finally realizing how tired he was. Cas helped him to a chair. Ben peeked around the corner, and Dean smiled wide. “Hey buddy.”

           “Dad!” Ben raced to his side. “Tell me what happened!”

           “I think the rest of us could use that story too,” Linda said, her eyes wide as she took in Kevin, who was…glowing a bit.

           “What, Mom?” Kevin looked down. “Right. Chuck said that would wear off.”

           “Who’s Chuck?”

           Dean put an arm around Ben. “We’d better start from the beginning.”

           It took almost an hour to explain everything, what with the interruptions and questions and “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING MEs?!” Anna and Samandriel wanted to go to Heaven immediately, but Cas vetoed it gently. “Gabriel and Raphael still have much to discuss,” he reminded them. “We should wait.”

           Anna shrugged. “I’ve waited my whole life, I can wait a bit longer.” She grinned at Hannah. “So you going to tell Meg yet or what?”

           Hannah blushed. “I…what do you mean?”

           Meg held up a scroll. “This appeared about twenty minutes ago. It’s my contract. I didn’t realize it still existed. What did you give for it?”

           “Nothing,” Hannah replied. “I offered my Grace, but Father wouldn’t take it.”

           Meg’s eyes went wide. “You did that…just to get me off? Why?”

           “Because I love you.”

           “Oh. Damn, Feathers, you’re awful direct.”

           “Why shouldn’t I say it?” Hannah asked, taking Meg’s hand. “I do love you.”

           “Yeah, well…” Meg squeezed her hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve loved anything. But this…this is starting to feel familiar.”

           “Oh!” Adam said. “Sorry, not to ruin the moment, but Bobby, someone had a message for you.”

           “Yeah?” There was hope in Bobby’s eyes, and Dean hurried to say, “Karen says she’s coming to visit, but I don’t…who did you talk to, Adam?”

           “A girl named Katie.”

           Bobby went white. “Yeah?”

           Adam looked Bobby right in the eye. “Yeah. She said to stop lying to her dad. Tell him the truth.”

           Bobby bowed his head. “I have been…”

           “She doesn’t think so,” Adam countered. “She said she wanted to come and visit, but she wouldn’t until Rufus forgave you.”

           Bobby wiped his eyes. “Katie was hunting with us a long time ago. She persuaded me to use her as bait, and when she got caught, she made me run. I couldn’t tell him…I lied.”

           Dean reached over and put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Tell him, Bobby.”

           “We need to Skype them anyway,” Lisa said apologetically. “I might have asked them to pray and then not told them what was going on.”

           “Lis…”

           As they were getting the computer set up, Gabriel arrived with a bang. “S’up?”

           “Gabriel, what’s happened?” Anna asked, alarmed.

           “What? Oh, it’s good news, it is absolutely good news. Raph and I have had a talk. The Council’s gonna stay with Dad presiding. Raphael and I are going to be in charge of planning new projects, the first of which is putting a boot up Crowley’s ass. He’s gonna have to be watched a bit closer.”

           “Do you have to stay in Heaven?”

           “Nope, thank goodness. I can bop around as I please. I can go see Kali and my other kids, hang out in my old stomping grounds, and of course spend time with my nest.” He smiled a bit sadly. “Don’t worry, Cassie, I’m not going to leave again.”

           “Good. I’ll break your wings if you do,” Balthazar replied, combing absentmindedly through Lisa’s hair.

           “We should probably call your friends,” Charlie pointed out.

           “Good point.” Dean placed the call. It took less than thirty seconds before Jody and Donna’s faces filled the screen.

           “Are you alright?!” Jody asked in what was nearly a shout.

           “Babe, calm down,” Donna said, but she looked worried too. “We’ve been going a bit crazy here. Is it all over?”

           Dean smiled. “It is. Everyone’s safe now.”

           “Thank God, I’ve been losing my mind here with these two,” Rufus grumbled from off camera.

           “Shut up, you grump.”

           “Seriously, both of you knock it off!” Jody snapped, but Dean could see her smile. “I want to know what’s going on!”

           “It’s kind of a long story.”

           “Nah, really?”

           “How about this,” Rufus said. “Why don’t we drive out and see you? It’s not far, and then someone else can listen to wedding plans.”

           “Wedding plans?!” Dean cried.

           Jody beamed and held up her left hand. Donna did the same, showing off matching diamond rings.

           “That’s what he meant,” Adam whispered. Dean didn’t get it.

           “Congrats! But wait, don’t you two live…”

           “Oh, news! I got moved to Sioux Falls,” Donna said excitedly. “I got the news yesterday. There’s a new sheriff in town—well, deputy, anyways.” She kissed Jody’s cheek.

           “So…” Dean smirked. “You taking a demotion, Donna?”

           Donna rolled her eyes. “I’ve got no problem being a deputy, Dean, and besides, I’m lucky I got any job at all. They don’t usually let people transfer like this.”

           “Yeah, that’s—that’s weird,” Dean said, noticing that Gabriel was suddenly very interested in the floor. “Good news, though. So…we’ll see you tomorrow?”

           “Bright and early. We’ll bring breakfast.” Jody moved to close the screen, but Dean held up his hand. “Rufus…Bobby’s got something to tell you.”

           Bobby looked terrified, but Dean got out of the chair and nodded to his dad. “Come on, everyone, let’s give them some privacy.” He picked up his nearly-asleep son and left the room, glancing back over his shoulder to see Bobby take a deep breath as he faced the computer screen.

           Once they were in the halls of the Bunker, people split off. Dean was left with Cas, Charlie and Gabriel, with Ben now asleep in his arms.

           “Nice that Donna could transfer that way.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Gabriel, who whistled innocently. He stopped when Dean kept staring. “What? I had a few free hours, and I like those two.”

           “Shipper trash,” Charlie snickered.

           “You wound me, my Queen!” Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “I am the King of Shippers. No trash need apply.” He paused. “You know, Anna could use some help setting up her room.”

           Charlie brightened and rushed off.

           Dean raised his eyebrows. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Who’s your next target?”

           Gabriel hopped off the chair. “I think it’s a tie between your little brother and your dad.”

           From down the hall Dean suddenly heard Kevin’s voice. “YOU’RE the snack fairy?!”

           Gabriel chuckled. “Guess Bobby and Rufus are getting the date tomorrow.”

           “Wait—Bobby and Rufus?” Dean couldn’t quite see it.

           “Not exactly lovey-dovey, but come on, those two are partners. This misunderstanding will get cleared up, and they’ll end up exactly how they should have twenty years ago, living in the same house, bitching at each other over whiskey, and having someone to talk to on bad days.”

           Dean tried to imagine going to visit Uncle Bobby and Uncle Rufus, tried to imagine Rufus putting up with kids.

           “Well…maybe it’s better that it’s gone this way, even though the reason sucks.” Gabriel studied Dean. “You’ve done good, Dean. With everything.”

           “Thanks.” Dean felt heat rise in his neck. “I didn’t do anything special—”

           “Speaking as someone who’s done wrong where you’ve done right…”Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You’ve done good. That’s special enough. And if you hurt my baby brother, I will end you.” The smile hadn’t changed.

           “Cross my heart,” Dean promised immediately. “Well, I would, but I need to put my kid down.”

           Gabriel nodded. “I’d better go check on mine. Good night.”

           “Hey, Gabriel.”

           “Yeah?”

           “You know, you can pick out a room too. I know you’ll be in and out, but you’ve…you’ve got a place here too. If you want one.”

           “That’s awful nice of someone I killed over a hundred times.”

           Dean shrugged. “You’re my mate’s brother. You belong here too.”

           Gabriel smiled warmly. “Thanks, Dean.” He started down the hall again.

           “No pranks!” Dean called after him as softly as he could.

           Gabriel just laughed.

           Dean laid Ben in his bed and tucked him in. He stood there for a moment, watching his son. Mom would meet him soon, he realized. She would meet the grandson who would have the chance his father had never had; to grow up and live without the burden of hunting. If Ben ever joined the life, it would be by choice alone, Dean swore to himself.

           Closing the door behind him, Dean walked to Sam’s room. His brother was in bed, his face peaceful. Dean swallowed the sudden lump in his throat; Sam looked young again, closer to twenty than thirty. “Hey Sammy.”

           “Hey Dean.” Sam leaned back against his pillows as Dean came in, sitting next to his brother. “I feel so much better.”

           “I’m glad. That’s the least he could have done.” Dean still wanted to have a…talk with Chuck later, no matter what Cas said.

           “Dean. We’re fine. It’s over now, and we can…we can live.”

           Dean smiled. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He fidgeted with the amulet around his neck. “I…wow, I don’t know what to say.”

           “It’s been a long day.” Sam smiled. “How about ‘goodnight’, and tomorrow we can figure out the rest?”

           “There’s that Stanford brain,” Dean chuckled. He leaned forward without thinking about, wrapping Sam in a tight hug. “Goodnight little brother.”

           Sam nodded against his shoulder. “Goodnight big brother.”

           “You remember that?” Dean asked in surprise. “You stopped finding that funny when you were six.”

           “I know,” Sam answered. “I just…I just remembered it. I can remember it.”

           Heart full, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head. “That’s good,” he said hoarsely. “Keep on remembering the good times, and we’ll make more going forward, alright?”

           “Sounds like a plan.”

           Dean released Sam. “Get to sleep, alright? Love you.”

           “Love you too, De.” Sam’s eyes were already sliding shut. Dean flicked the light off and tiptoed out of the room. He peeked into Adam’s room, but it was empty.

           “He is with Kevin.” Cas was behind him, trenchcoat off and tie undone.

           “When you say with—”

           “They are in Kevin’s room and they have their clothes on. I believe Kevin is a bit overwhelmed.” Cas passed a hand over his face.

           “How are you holding up, honey?” Dean asked. He drew Cas into their room. “I know today must have been…damn.”              

           Cas laughed. “I think that sums it up well.” He laid down and reached for Dean, drawing him down beside him. “It was…stunning. I thought I would never find him, and now…he’s there. I can speak to him.”

           Dean cuddled him close, not quite knowing what to say.

           “He said he is proud of me,” Cas said in a small voice.

           “Of course he is,” Dean said immediately. “Why the hell wouldn’t he be?”

           “I disobeyed every command my superiors gave me so I could stand by your side.”

           “And he…he wanted that?”

           “He did. He hoped I would.”

           Dean was trembling. “I’m so glad you did,” he whispered. “And if that was his idea all along…well, I guess I thank God. But mostly you.”

           Cas kissed him. “It wasn’t much of a choice, Dean. I was lost the moment I laid eyes on you in Hell.”

           Dean reached into his pocket. “Well, so was I.” He swallowed hard. He had to do it now, he’d promised Mom. “Cas, you saved me, and you gave me an awesome life. It’s so much better than my old one, and I finally figured out why.”

           “And why is that?” Cas propped himself up one elbow.

           Dean took a deep breath and took out his mother’s wedding ring. “Because you’re in it. And I’d…I’d like you to stay in it. Cas, will you—”

           Cas kissed him ferociously. When he pulled back there were tears in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, my ridiculous, wondrous mate.”

           “You didn’t let me finish,” Dean complained.

           “You weren’t on one knee. Isn’t that the tradition?”

           Dean took Cas’ left hand and slipped the ring on. “Screw tradition.”

           “That is one, isn’t there?” Cas’ eyes danced. “Engagement sex?”

           “Uh…right.” Suddenly Dean didn’t feel so tired. “You want to set up the soundproofing again?”

           Cas snapped his fingers. “Done, my fiancé.”

Chapter 38: A Fourth Ending

           Sam lugged the last cooler out of Lisa’s truck. “Okay, we’re good!” he called.

           Balthazar took the cooler from him. “Thank you, gorilla.” Before Sam could retort he’d sent the cooler flying across the field, landing just beside Dean and the rest of the coolers. Dean waved his hand, still focused on the burgers. Benny was busily stirring some…giant pot. Sam had given up asking the former vampire what he was cooking; it was always delicious.

           Gabriel had conjured up picnic tables not far from the cooks, and most of their family was already sitting down. Bobby and Rufus had driven up earlier that day with Jody and Donna. Ben was chatting with Meg and Charlie; the three of them were planning an outing to a convention soon and their costumes were coming along nicely. Adam and Kevin were trying to set the table, but the cups and plates kept switching around—Sam glared at Gabriel, who chuckled and pointed to Kali. The angels were listening intently as Cas explained the holiday (“why did they throw tea in the bay, brother?” Alfie asked. “Does salt water make better tea?”) Linda and Lisa were discussing the book they were reading, their eyes going every so often to their sons. Garth was going to miss dinner, but he was going to be there by dark.

           And tomorrow was the first visiting day. Mom and Ellen and Jo and Ash and Grandpa…Charlie’s parents, Kevin’s dad…they’d all be there.

           Sam still couldn’t get over the list. Just over a month since Chuck returned, and his whole family was in the same place. Even better, he could feel how real it was; the sound of voices and clattering plates— “GABRIEL!” “It’s not ME!”—the smell of night air and barbeque, a breeze in his hair…He was finally safe. Finally, really home.

           Sam had been looking for peace and happiness his whole life. He’d never believed he’d actually find it though. Never imagined it would look like this.

           It was nice to be pleasantly surprised.

           It was handy having the Trickster around sometimes, Adam allowed as he took another freezing cold beer from the magic cooler. He could do without Gabriel popping up every time he planned a date with Kevin, though.

           (Adam checked the entire Bunker—only Sam napping in his room and Charlie working on the database. Perfect. He approached Kevin, still a bit shy. “Do you want to go to the movies tonight?”

           Gabriel popped out of nowhere. “Use protection!”

           “HOW IN THE ACTUAL FUCK”)

           Right now, though, Gabriel was busy cuddling with Kali, who had a very put-upon look on her face. The gentleness in her hands as she stroked Gabriel’s hair, however, made Adam sure that she actually enjoyed it.

           “Alright, everyone ready for the show?” Dean called from about fifty feet away.

           Adam cheered with the rest, raising his and Kevin’s linked hands.

           “Now, this is a bit of a family tradition,” Dean explained, “but a long time ago it was just me and Sammy. So it’s pretty cool that there’s so many more people here. Especially people who help with…special effects.”

           “No problem, Deano!” Gabriel called. “Happy to help things explode!”

           Dean threw his hands up. “Alright, I guess I’m gonna stop talking now. Happy 4th of July, everyone.” He lit a match, dropped it on the ground, and then took off running, sliding neatly in between Adam and Cas just as the first firework went off.

           Adam hadn’t been to too many firework shows before, but this one beat anything he’d ever imagined. The colours and sounds that shot across the sky were insane—he could sense the magic that helped form the dragons and unicorns that had Charlie squealing with delight.

           Even better than the fireworks, though, was Kevin leaning against him, their fingers intertwined. His oldest brother next to him; Sam on the other side near Bobby. The crazy group of people who’d folded him into their ranks like he’d always belonged.

           A giant wheel appeared in the sky, spinning and setting off little fireworks of his own. Adam let go of Kevin’s hand long enough to clap. Gabriel did deserve some appreciation, after all. And Kevin’s hand would be right there.

           They would all be there.

           Dean could have watched the fireworks all night, but Gabriel knew his audience. The last volley of sparks and colour was just starting to fade when the archangel clapped his hands—he’d started doing that when he saw Sam and Adam flinching. The picnic tables disappeared, and the field was suddenly filled by wide, deep mats, a wide assortment of pillows and more than enough blankets.

           “Bedtime, everyone!” Gabriel announced. “C’mon, independence doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep.”

           “Too many negatives in that sentence,” Sam muttered. Dean looked over and smiled; Sam was leaning agaisnt their dad, mostly asleep. Bobby patted his head. “Yeah, idjit. C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”

           There were no boundaries in the pad, no markers for who would sleep where. Dean tucked Ben in near Lisa and laid down himself, pulling Cas into his arms. They were close to Cas’ nest-mates, who were curled together with their partners, Samandriel protected in the middle of the huddle.

           Dean leaned his cheek against Cas’ head and did a mental tally. His dad, his brothers,  his in-laws, all his adopted siblings and parents, his son…his family was safe around him. It wasn’t the family he’d fought so hard to protect before he went to Hell; the small, bitter, broken group who loved as fiercely as they hated themselves. They’d changed, grown. So had he.

           Being afraid of the dark was good for hunters, but Dean had grown up with a very different fear—of ever expecting tomorrow to be a good day, of always imagining the unknown to be threatening. Shoot first, ask questions later. No attachments. You don’t do shorts, because shorts mean explaining scars and history and pain.

           Then he met Cas, and Cas showed him that the unknown was sometimes a way out of a demon deal, a trustworthy ally in the darkest days, someone who could love him no matter how hard he tried to fight him. Sometimes the unknown was reaching for soda instead of beer, staying in bed late instead of getting four hours, and learning to show his heart. It could even be brothers who got out of nightmares, monster friends and a brand new purpose, a way to make the world safer without dying by forty (well, again). Sometimes the unknown was a night under the stars with everyone he loved most, open, honest affection and wearing shorts because damn it, it was hot.

          Dean kissed Cas. “So glad I didn’t know you were coming,” he whispered. “Wouldn’t have ever learned this if not.”

          He didn’t have to explain. Cas just pulled him closer. “You were the best of all surprises, Dean Winchester.”

Chapter 39: Epilogue- Settling In

           Sam answered the phone. “Willis, FBI. Yes, Mr. Milligan is one of our best agents. He’s absolutely supposed to be there. I expect full cooperation. Yes, have a nice day.” He hung up and sighed. “We need to work on Adam’s aura.”

           “He just looks too much like a teddy bear to be in the FBI,” Charlie answered, eyes flicking between screens as she typed up a report. “He’ll grow into it.”

           “It would help if we didn’t pair him with Alfie.”

           It was just the two of them that day. Bobby and Rufus were back in Sioux Falls, it was Lisa’s week with Ben, and Anna had gone on a grocery run. The others were all out on cases, some hunting, some trying to set up more network points. Dean and Cas were the only ones not working; they were having a couple’s weekend. Sam smirked to himself. Five years ago his brother would have shot himself before uttering the phrase “couple’s weekend”, let alone inviting his mate on one.

           It was nice to have some positive changes.

           “Oh, someone called earlier,” Charlie said, handing Sam a note with a New York number scrawled on it. “They wanted to offer some civilian liaison.”

           Sam dialled the number, wondering who would pick up. They’d had a few calls like this since reaching out beyond the police. Some, like Lee Chambers, had been happy to help out with dealing with child victims of monsters. Others, like the crazy lady who had a get-rich-quick scheme for hosting real séances with hunters on standby in case something went wrong…well, they could do without those.

           “This is the Men of Letters,” Sam said when the person picked up. He rarely gave people a chance to speak first. “Why did you call us?”

           “Hi! Well, I own an art gallery, and a few years ago I worked with hunters on a case with a haunted painting. Well, sort of haunted. Anyways, I’ve been doing some quiet work to do with art-related paranormal activity, and I thought I might be able to help. I could at least give you my records, but I’d love to get more involved.”

           Sam almost dropped the phone. “Sarah?”

           The line went silent, and Sam was terrified that she’d hung up.

           Then the voice came on again, the voice Sam had never forgotten, never stopped wondering about. Someone who accepts that hunting is part of your life, and still wants to be in it, Chuck had promised.

           “Sam?”

A Whiteness: A group of swans. Black Swan: "A black swan is an event or occurrence that deviates beyond what is normally expected of a situation and is extremely difficult to predict" (Investopedia)