raspberry-starship

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

FIVE YEARS LATER

A hand with a rag wiped across a polished wooden surface. Dean straightened, satisfied that the bar was clean. All around him was cowboy memorabilia, and in the window there was a sign that was turned to say “sorry, we’re closed!” There was a soft meow and Dean turned to see a tabby cat on the bar. It looked up at him and meowed again a bit indignantly.

“Alright, I hear you.” Dean grumbled as he worked.

This was Cas’s cat who had been named Oliver by Jack. Behind Dean, a door opened leading to the basement. Cas appeared, carrying a crate of glasses. He muttered a soft “excuse me” as he slid behind Dean. Dean turned his head to watch with a soft smile.

“Heya, sunshine.” He said as Cas set the glasses down.

Cas smiled gently and looked up at him. “Hello, Dean.”

“When are they getting here?” Dean asked.

Cas checked his phone, “Sam says he’s on the way. Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

Dean nodded, “Good.”

A couple minutes later they sat at the bar together, a beer in front of each of them. Oliver lay across the bar beside Cas, on his side as Cas pet him.

“So Charlie found a case that’s nearby.” Cas said, “It looks like ghouls.”

Dean nodded, “Alright.”

The bell above the door rang and they both turned to see Sam coming in, a big grin on his face. “Hey, guys.”

Dean and Cas stood, smiling too as Ren, Jack, and Ian filed in after Sam. They all hugged hello and then took up residence at a big table in the center of the bar. Oliver immediately jumped up to lay in Jack’s lap—Jack was his favorite.

“Where’s—?” Dean began when the bell above the door rang again.

They all turned to see Sadie coming in, lugging a big baby carrier with her.

“Hello!” She beamed, setting the baby down beside Sam before going to hug each of the kids.

Cas leaned over the empty seat between he and Sam to get a good look at the baby. She squirmed a little, yawning like she’d just been woken up. He beamed and leaned down to offer her a finger. She took it in her meaty hands, big eyes looking up and all around.

“Hello, Alana.” Cas said gently, shaking his hand a little.

She let out a small giggle, smiling up at him.

Soon Sadie took her seat between Cas and Sam, pulling baby Alana out of her carrier so she could sit in Sadie’s lap as they talked.

The kids were all home from where they lived together in New York City. Ian worked in music therapy aiding kids, while Jack was studying to be a teacher. Ren worked currently at a publishing company but in the years to come, she would publish her own work.

Dean and Cas ran Campbell’s together, a bar just outside Lebanon and still lived in the Bunker which was now more of a halfway-house for hunters. Sam ran all the operations in the Bunker with Alana who he called his assistant even though all she did was sit on his knee and play with her stuffed bunny. Sadie organized a network of therapists including Mia Vallens who knew about the supernatural and could help people who suffered from monster-related PTSD.

Alana Mary Eldredge was born on January 13th, 2024 after a long an arduous battle about what her name would be. At first Sam was rather annoyed by the fact that Sadie didn’t want to give their child his name but the more the argument dragged on, the more he realized that if Alana was born anything like her mother, she’d probably just change her name to Eldredge when she turned eighteen, so he relented. In return for this, Sadie agreed for Alana to have two godfathers—Cas and Dean. Cath and Charlie would be the godparents to their second child, born in 2027, Wyatt Winchester Eldredge. Then his younger sister would be born in 2029, Isa Ruth Eldredge, and would have three godparents in Jack, Ren, and Ian.

Ian would meet a nice man at work named Walter Park and together they would adopt a son named Clay Park Eldredge. And then after that they would adopt three more kids—Finley Tyler Eldredge, Elliot Jack Eldredge, and Brie Renna Eldredge. Cath and Charlie would never have kids themselves but they would adore all their nieces and nephews.

Jack and Ren would live a long life as humans that were no more special than the person next to them. They’d move back to Lebanon when Jack was done with school, Ren a full-time writer by this point and he’d teach in the local middle school. In Heaven, perfect harmony would be achieved between Michael, Zophiel, Tala, and Adam. They would spend many years re-educating the remaining angels on how to have compassion and patience with humanity as well as encourage them to build relationships with their vessels.

In Heaven, Bobby sat in a rocking chair on the Roadhouse’s front porch, looking out at the view. A beer appeared in his periphery and he turned to see Rufus there, offering it to him with a remarkably unemotional expression. Bobby smirked and took it from him. Rufus sat down in the chair beside him.

Inside the Roadhouse, Jo was wiping down the bar. Ash lifted his computer up so she could get everywhere and Ellen came out of the back. She slid a beer down the bar and a hand shot out to catch it. Pamela offered her a sweet smile as she thanked Ellen for the drink.

In a cabin down the road, Mary and John slow-danced in their living room, beaming at each other before they kissed. A little ways further down the road there was a house that looked like it’d been plucked from suburbia and plopped into a national park. Coming out of the open windows was the sound of someone playing the cello. In the house’s living room, Mrs. Tran glanced up from the magazine she was perusing to watch Kevin’s back for a moment as he played. She smiled softly at him.

During the coming years, Kaia and Claire would get married, Donna would move in officially with Jody, and Alex would become a doctor. Life was not easy, but it was significantly less stressful without an apocalypse every year. They liked it this way.

* * *

Zophiel sat in their library, Tala sitting across from them and the both of them reading. Many years had passed and now they were no longer in charge of Heaven. Jack and Ren had taken up their true work some time ago, now both adults. Cas was their right-hand man and Zophiel was back to the work they’d grown to love over the past couple millennia. Cas’s powers were restored after his human death, leaving him an angel once more. However, every night he went home to he and Dean’s house in Heaven. Meanwhile, Michael was their left-hand man with Adam, the two of them visibly content with the work they we’re doing. Jack and Ren kept a regular schedule, though, like they were still living as humans. Ren requested that they work that way and Jack agreed.

Zophiel glanced up as there was a knock on the door standing inside a bookcase beside them. The door opened and an angel poked their head in.

“Zophiel? They would like to see you.” He said.

Zophiel nodded and set their book down, getting up. Tala had disappeared, going with them in spirit. They followed the angel down a couple white corridors until they came to a balcony overlooking all of Heaven’s bubble universes. There, Jack and Ren awaited them with smiles.

“Hello, Zophiel.” Ren said.

“Hello, Renna. Jack.” They nodded to each of them in-turn.

“We were wondering if you wanted to come with us this time?” Jack asked.

Zophiel’s brows rose. “R—really?”

Ren nodded and held out a hand. Zophiel carefully drew closer and took it. The world turned upside-down and they closed their eyes. When their feet hit solid ground, they opened them again.

They were in a huge backyard, where a long set of mis-matched tables and chairs were all pushed together. At the grill, Dean raised his tongs and gave them all a wave.

Jack and Ren went over here every couple days to have dinner with their family, so they wouldn’t lose their sense of community. Today, however, was a big affair.

Mrs. Tran was in the kitchen, feverishly putting together a salad big enough for their large group. Walter was helping her and Ian was watching with an amused look on his face and a cider in his hand. Cas walked past with a tray full of uncooked hamburgers, going out onto the back deck that Dean had built. He went right over to the grill, where Kevin was standing with Dean, a beer in hand. Cas gently put a palm on the small of Dean’s back to silently let him know he was there. Dean glanced back at him and smiled.

Cath sat with her arm around Charlie’s shoulders at one of the tables. Across from them, Jo and Inara laughed at something Ash had just said and Ellen looked on from beside them with a smile. Both versions of Jo had congealed into one when the second version of her passed away from natural causes in her late eighties.

Cas walked down from the back deck of the house to check in on Kelly, who was reclining in a lawn chair beside Sadie. He put a hand on her shoulder, asking if she needed anything. With an adoring smile, Kelly waved him off.

Across the lawn, Bobby and Sam appeared from the woods, having just walked over to Sam and Sadie’s house to see their new renovations. In front of the house, a car pulled up and Donna, Jody, Alex, Kaia, and Claire got out, joining everyone in the backyard.

Zophiel looked out at all of the people in wonder, honored that they’d been asked to join. Cas approached with a smile.

“Zophiel.” He nodded to them once, “Glad to see you took the invitation.”

Zophiel nodded a bit awkwardly and Ren put a hand on their shoulder as she passed. Jack moved first to hug his father, then Ren took her turn. Cas beamed, clapping them both on the back.

Sam and Sadie lived in the woods beside Cas and Dean’s house, where they had two dogs and awaited the arrival of their children. Dean had taken up woodworking like his mother, and built most of he and Cas’s house himself. Sadie had a beautiful big garden in the yard behind their house, where it was surrounded by trees from all different parts of the world. Sam was allowed to take out any book from Zophiel’s library which left him more than content in his retirement.

Soon, they were all sitting down at the table, their food in front of them. At the head, Dean stood, raising his beer. Everyone quieted, turning to look at him.

“To family.” He said, “Now, not everyone could make it today but they’re with us in spirit. I expect I’ll see you all at the next one, too.”

They all cheered raucously, clinking their glasses and bottles together before they dug in. Dean sat down in his chair and glanced to his right, where Cas was already staring at him, a dopey smile on his face. Dean smirked and took his hand on the table.

“I love you.” Cas murmured only loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean smiled warmly. “I love you, too, Cas.”

A/N: Hello! Holy shit it's done. I can't believe it. That's a bit under a year and a half of working on the same project. I wrote the ending the way we all deserved to have it. Thank you so much for reading, -R (P.S.- don't be shy! If you read this all the way through I'm sure you have thoughts and I'd love to hear them!)

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

Jack and Ren stood on a white balcony, overlooking a maze of bubble-universes, all of which fed into one another at different points. Their work was done, at least the preliminary work. Jack glanced over at Ren, watching her face. Silently, he held out a hand by their sides. She glanced down at it, then up into his eyes. He gave her a look that said: “trust me”. With a small smiled, she took his hand, lacing her fingers slowly through his. Both of them closed their eyes.

When they opened their eyes again, they were standing in front of an unfamiliar, sky-blue farmhouse. Ren looked at Jack, a confused frown on her face. He nodded encouragingly, giving her hand a little squeeze before letting it go.

There was a squeak of hinges as the front porch’s screen door opened. Ren and Jack looked up to see a man with a mug of coffee in one hand and a laptop in the other coming out. Ren’s mouth fell open. The man’s eyes were downcast, the light catching on the white streaks in his otherwise sandy-brown hair. He glanced up from the ground casually to see the two visitors, and froze.

“Ren…?” He began, breathless, staring at her. “Renna?” He tried again, firmer this time.

She nodded quickly, unsure of her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes, watching him carefully put all his things down. He shook his head in disbelief, then walked quickly down the front steps towards her. A sob escaped her as she let him envelop her in his arms.

“Oh, Ren…” He cooed, squeezing her tight into his open flannel. Tears fell out from his eyes as he tried to pull her even closer.

“Dad,” Was all she could manage, sobbing against him. “I… I missed you so—so much.” She sniffled into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Renna.” Sean said softly, rubbing her back soothingly.

He glanced up after a moment, as if just noticing Jack standing there, watching them with a warm smile. Sean looked like he wanted to ask about him, but then Ren pulled away to look up into her father’s face, distracting him from their audience.

He beamed down at her. “You’ve gotten so tall!”

A watery chuckle escaped her, and she nodded, wiping her nose hastily. “It’s been a little while.”

“How long?” Sean asked tenderly, guilt tugging at his features.

She only shook her head, putting a hand on his shoulder, “It’s not your fault, Dad. Don’t blame yourself for what you can’t control.”

He smiled sadly at that, cupping her head to bring her closer and kiss her on the forehead. When they pulled back, he had tears in his eyes again. “You’ve grown up so much.”

She nodded, holding one of his hands in both of hers. “I have so much to tell you.” She laughed, wiping one of her cheeks as another wayward tear escaped her eyes.

“Well, before you do, there’s someone who’s gonna want to see you.” Sean gave her hand a little squeeze.

Jack stepped up a bit, re-calling Mr. Toivonen’s attention to their audience. Sean sniffled and wiped his nose quickly, trying to settle.

“And who’s this?” He asked, momentarily forgetting about who he was going to go get.

“Oh,” Ren beamed, stepping aside so Jack could stand with her in front of her father, “Dad, this is Jack.”

“Hello.” Jack raised a hand beside him, “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Toivonen. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sean let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at Ren. She elaborated, “Jack is my, uh…”

She didn’t know how to categorize it, until Jack spoke.

“Partner.” He supplied easily.

She smiled adoringly at him, then turned back to her dad, nodding once. “Partner.”

Sean nodded, beaming at his daughter. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack. I’ll uh, be right back.”

He turned and walked back into the house. For a moment, there was silence, then Ren turned to Jack. She grinned, tears still in her eyes, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a tight hug. He smiled against the shirt covering her shoulder, and pulled her closer.

The front door squeaked again, and they quickly stepped apart. A young woman stood in the doorway, a look of utter disbelief on her face.

“Oh my…” She breathed, staring at Ren.

“June!” Ren cried.

“Rennie!” June squealed, running down the steps to crash into her cousin.

They hugged each other with bone-breaking intensity, screaming incessantly as they waddled around together. Jack watched from a couple feet away, a bemused look on his face. Finally, after about a thirty seconds, they pulled apart. June held Ren’s shoulders, taking her in.

“My god you got even taller!” June cried, “So unfair!”

Ren laughed, still teary. “I missed you so much, June.”

June smirked, “I missed you more.”

Ren shook her head, “Not possible.”

June beamed, tears welling up in her eyes too, and then she was pulling Ren back into a bear-hug. Jack smiled, watching them. The door squeaked again, making Ren and June pull apart. June wore a knowing smile, stepping over to Jack.

“Heya,” She held out a hand, “Juniper Martin. Call me June, or else.” She smirked.

He smiled, a bit nervous, “Jack. Kline. You can, uh, call me Jack.”

Meanwhile, Sean Toivonen was walking out of the farmhouse, one hand extended out behind him. Ren stood there, at the bottom of the front steps, awaiting him. Out from the shade of the house, his far hand appeared, holding another. The breath caught in Ren’s throat, as she finally guessed who it could be. The sun seemed to glow two shades brighter then, as a woman with dark hair and glasses stepped out into the daylight. She blinked a couple times, then spotted Ren and froze.

Sean stopped at the edge of the porch, hand still clasped in the woman’s. She shuffled to a halt beside him, pushing her glasses up her nose carefully. She seemed incredibly nervous, looking down at Ren, who was practically her—albeit slightly-taller—clone.

“H—hi…” Ren said softly, unsure of how else to begin.

The woman’s mouth opened, and she tried to form words, but found that she couldn’t. For a long, tense moment, Jack wondered what would happen next. Then, Ren stepped up to the top stair, holding out a hand to the woman.

“My name is Ren.” She said softly, staring up into the woman’s face with an intense earnestness. There was a split second of silence, as Ren’s hand hovered in the air. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

The woman nodded shakily, spurring herself into motion and taking Ren’s hand. “Nadine—I mean,” She swallowed, “Mom. I’m… your mom.”

Ren nodded, her voice quivering slightly as she replied, “I know.”

They pulled apart, and Nadine settled back beside Sean. She smiled down shyly at Ren. “Your father’s told me so much about you.” She said, voice teary, “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Ren nodded, looking down at her clasped hands.

“You…” Nadine forced herself to swallow, “…You deserved better than me—”

“—No,” Ren protested, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, that may be, but I still hope that you can… maybe… come to visit again?”

Ren’s head shot up, a hopeful expression on her face.

“I’d like…” Nadine was almost shaking from nerves and emotions, “…I’d like to get to know you, if you’d like that.”

Ren nodded adamantly, “I would. I would really like that.”

Nadine beamed, tears brimming in her eyes. “Would you like to come in now, or do you have somewhere else you have to be?”

“Uh, well,” Ren glanced over her shoulder at Jack, who didn’t seem to want to push her in any direction. Ren turned back to her parents, “I would, but Jack and I have someone else to see. I’ll be back, though.”

“You’d better!” June teased, walking up from behind Ren to stand beside her aunt and uncle. With her hands in her pockets and a wry smile on her lips, she looked down at Ren. “I can’t go too long without my best friend.”

Ren beamed, eyes still watery. “I promise, I’ll be back before you know it.”

June nodded, still smiling. Ren’s eyes moved to Nadine, who was in the middle, giving her a nod as well, then her eyes fell on Sean. Her father beamed down at her, another tear slipping out from his eye.

“We’ll be here.” He said softly.

Ren nodded, and then turned, making her way slowly back to Jack. He watched her face the whole way, as her eyes followed her feet trailing through the grass. When she reached him, he took her hand gently, lacing his fingers through hers. She smiled sadly, then they looked up at the people on the porch. They both raised their outside hands, waving, and then they disappeared.

When they opened their eyes again, they were on a new front lawn. Jack glanced at Ren, an excited look on his face. “Ready?”

She smiled adoringly at him, and nodded, cheeks still a bit streaky from all the crying. “Hell, yeah.”

Together, they walked up the front steps, so he could knock on the door. A moment passed, and then there was a shuffling inside the house. A woman pulled back the curtain on the front door, then her eyes widened at the sight of Jack, and she quickly fumbled the door open.

“Jack!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Hi, Mom.” He smiled into her shoulder, holding her close.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again!” Kelly beamed as she pulled away, “You’re not… you’re not dead again, are you?”

“No,” Jack smiled, “We’re just visiting.”

Kelly seemed to only notice Ren at that moment. Her brows rose, and she turned back to Jack, trying to subdue a smile. “And who is this?”

Jack beamed, his ears turning a bit pink, “Mom, this is Renna.” He turned to stare into Ren’s eyes as he continued, “She’s my best friend, and one of the most wonderful humans I’ve ever met.”

Ren’s cheeks blushed furiously, and she let out a nervous laugh. “Jack!” She scolded softly, before stepping forwards and holding out her hand to Kelly, “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Kline.”

“Oh, honey, please,” Kelly beamed, taking Ren’s hand and covering it with both of hers, “just Kelly is fine!”

When they pulled apart, Jack spoke again. “How are you, Mom? Is the new house okay?”

Kelly put a hand on his shoulder, smiling up at him adoringly. “You are too sweet, Jack, yes, it’s lovely.”

Jack smiled and nodded, “Ren and I have re-made Heaven. You can go visit people now, if there’s anyone you want to find, there’s a phonebook in your house that should help you.”

Kelly blinked, “You… you re-made Heaven?”

Jack and Ren shared a quick, shy glance, then turned back to her. “Yes.”

“Well, you want to come in and tell me all about it?” Kelly stepped aside, ready to let them inside.

“We’d love to, but,” Ren stopped, looking up to Jack for assistance.

“We’ve got to go back to Earth now.” Jack supplied, “We’ll be back to visit, though.”

Kelly shook her head, smiling sweetly, “No, no, honey, go live. I’ll be here when you’re ready—I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Jack stepped forwards to give her another hug. Ren averted her eyes, feeling like she was interrupting a moment of intimacy. When they pulled apart, Kelly took one of Ren’s hands again, covering it with both of hers.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Renna.” She said genuinely, to which Ren could only manage a nervous smile. Kelly beamed and let her go, turning back to address them both. “I guess I’ll… see you next time you come around.”

There was a tinge of sadness to this all, but Kelly was visibly content. She had given up so much for her son—what was a little more time for her? She had everything she could ever want and more, and most of all, she had the patience to await his return.

“I can’t wait to hear about your adventures.” She beamed up at her son, tears brimming in her eyes. “Come back and tell me all about them.”

Jack nodded, a bit teary himself. “I will.”

Kelly glanced back and forth between Ren and Jack. “Take care of each other, okay?”

Ren and Jack both nodded firmly, and then turned to walk away. Ren held out her hand this time, waiting for his. He laced his fingers through hers, and then they both glanced one last time over their shoulders at Kelly, each raising their free hand to wave.

“Bye.” Kelly said softly, giving them a wave before they disappeared in front of her eyes. With a sniff, and a melancholy smile, she turned to go back into her house.

Jack and Ren reappeared on the balcony, where Michael was now standing. He smiled at them, hands folded behind his back.

“Did you go visit your families?” He asked politely, to which they both nodded. He nodded as well, smiling contentedly as he looked out over the pocket-universes, “Adam and I went to visit his mother earlier.”

“How is she?” Jack asked immediately, “Is she happy?”

Michael looked down at him, a knowing smile on his face. “Yes. Yes she is.” His eyes flashed blue, and his body relaxed—they were speaking to Adam now. He smiled, “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack nodded, as if to say: “of course”. Adam’s eyes moved to look at Ren.

“Both of you. Thank you.” He nodded once to her. She returned the gesture, a small blush creeping up on her cheeks. Adam turned to look out at the endless universes before them, “What you’ve done here… it’s beautiful.”

“We.” Jack insisted gently, smiling up at Adam’s profile. Adam smirked at the ground, a little uncomfortable in the spotlight, but getting used to recognition.

“You sure you’ll be okay up here?” Ren asked, “Watching over everything?”

Adam nodded, “We won’t be alone. And we’ll always be able to reach out if we need you two.” Adam looked back down at them with a smirk, “I’ll see you soon, right?”

Jack and Ren nodded. With a smile, and a final parting nod, his eyes glowed blue again, and once more, he was Michael. The archangel gave them a small smirk, weariness tugging at it ever so slightly.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Jack asked in a concerned tone of voice.

Michael nodded, “Go on. Go experience the world. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

Ren sensed a presence beside her. She turned to see Zophiel standing there, also looking out over the worlds. They beamed, and turned to look down at Ren.

“Hello, my friend.” They said warmly, “I will miss you while you’re gone.”

Ren put a hand on their upper-arm. “I won’t be far, Zo. You can always come and talk with me.”

Zophiel smiled, their eyes a bit glassy. Ren lifted up her arms, asking silently for a hug. After a split second of confusion, Zophiel quickly accepted, pulling her close. Jack and Michael smiled idly as they watched, and after a moment, it was done. Ren gave Zophiel a couple reassuring pats on the shoulders, then stepped back. She turned to Jack, who was there, waiting patiently with a warm smile.

“Shall we?” She said softly, just to him. He nodded, holding out a hand. She beamed, and one-by-one, her fingers fell into place between his—the only place they seemed to belong perfectly.

* * *

Sam came up the stairs of the abandoned power plant that sat over the Bunker, a set of tongs in one hand. He waved them at Dean, who had brought a grill out onto the roof. Dean thanked him, and dropped the spatula he’d been using. Beside them, Cas opened the cheap cooler they’d brought up, pulling out a beer for Sam. Sam took it, thanking Cas softly before taking a seat in one of the seven mis-matched lawn chairs they’d set up underneath the clear, starry sky. To his right sat Sadie, while Ian sat at the other end of the horseshoe.

The familiar, soft, sound of flapping wings called all of their attention to the far side of the roof, where Ren and Jack appeared. They all smiled, everyone but the angel calling out variants of “hey!” as the two newcomers approached.

“Got cider in the cooler for you two, dorks.” Dean teased good-naturedly as they approached.

Ren laughed, swatting him gently on the shoulder. “You need any help, grumps?”

Dean rolled his eyes at the nickname, while Cas and Sam chuckled. Jack grabbed a cider out of the cooler and took a seat beside Cas. When the cap was off, Cas held out his bottle, silently offering a “cheers” to his son. Jack, with a big smile, accepted, softly tapping his bottle against Cas’s. They both then took a silent sip, moving to look up into the sky.

“Did you know that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on Earth?” Jack asked his father after a moment.

Cas smiled knowingly, glancing over at Jack. “Yes, I did.”

Jack smiled up at the sky, staring for a long while until his other-worldly eyes began to see more stars—stars that were so faint the human eye’s aperture was not wide enough to perceive them.

A little while passed as Ren was helping Dean prepare the food. Sam came by, handing both Jack and Cas paper plates with burgers on them before taking the seat one down from Cas, leaving the chair in the middle open for Dean. To his right, Sadie smiled across the horseshoe, clearly talking with Ian. He waited a moment for them to be done, then he leaned in closer to her, while Ian turned to talk with Jack.

“How are you doing?” Sam murmured to Sadie.

“Sam!” She laughed at a whisper, beaming at him, “I’m fine, I promise.”

He nodded and faced forwards again, looking a bit wounded. With an adoring sigh, she scooted her chair closer to his. He glanced over at her as she reached forwards and laced her fingers through his free hand, resting them on his chair’s armrest. For a long moment, he just beamed at their intertwined hands, while she smiled at his profile.

“I missed this.” He murmured, running his thumb over hers.

Donning a big smile, she reached up with her free hand to cup the far side of his face, bringing him close so she could kiss his cheek. As she pulled away, he caught her wrist, and leaned forwards to kiss her on the lips. She smiled, melting a little into his touch.

“UGH, come on!” Ian shouted from the other side of the horseshoe, making everyone laugh and the two of them pull apart.

Dean appeared behind Ian then, holding out a plate with a burger and saying, “I’m with you, kid.”

Sam rolled his eyes, unable to completely hide the smirk, while Ren handed Sadie her burger. Sadie thanked her softly, and Ren nodded, before she moved to her seat. Ren ran a hand across Jack’s shoulders as she passed behind him, then took the seat between he and Ian. Finally, Dean appeared, slumping down into the seat between Cas and Sam.

Cas watched him with that small smile he reserved just for Dean, waiting for him to notice his staring. When he was settled into his seat, Dean glanced over at Cas, and caught the look. A little smirk tugged Dean’s lip up, and he held out his beer to Cas. Their bottles clinked together gently as Jack repeated his fact about the amount of stars in the universe to Sam and Sadie.

“Wow.” Was all Sadie could manage in response—that was a lot of stars to try and conceptualize.

After a moment of silence, Dean raised his bottle towards the center of their semi-circle. “To you guys.”

Sam smiled, raising his as well, “To us.”

“To family.” Cas said with a soft firmness.

Jack smiled, lifting his cider. “To adventures to come.”

Ren beamed at each of them, then slowly lifted her bottle too. “To everyone we’ve lost.”

“And to everyone we’ve saved.” Sadie smiled.

“To…” Ian frowned for a moment, trying to think of something, “…all that we’ve got.”

Dean smiled, nodded idly, “Yeah, I like that. To all that we’ve got.”

They all paused to take a sip, each staring up at the sky in complete silence. For a moment, they existed alone together in that space—no one could see the stars but them. It was as if the rest of the world were empty. When they all settled, Sam raised his bottle again.

“To freedom.” He grinned, “Free will, at last.”

“That is, unless Jack decides to become a writer.” Ian added wryly, to which they all chuckled.

“Or Ren decides to make her stories real.” Sadie teased with the same tone, making them laugh again.

“Or an amalgamation of the two.” Cas said, turning to address Dean, “They do get into a lot of trouble together.”

“Hey!” Ren laughed as Jack shook his head, beaming to himself.

“Alright, alright!” Dean raised a hand to quiet them all. He seemed to be not taking sides when he said, “…you gotta admit he’s got a point.”

Ian tossed his head back and laughed, while Ren fumbled to defend herself. Dean beamed at the kids adoringly—fuck, he was happy to see them all sitting side-by-side again.

“Seriously, though,” Sam said after they settled, staring back and forth between Ren and Jack, “we’re… we’re really proud of you guys. You’ve done really good.”

Ren glanced over at Jack as she took another sip, knowing what hearing that would mean to him. He beamed at Sam, a little overcome. Ren smiled over at Sam, nodding slowly.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Yeah, thank you.” Jack repeated.

There was a calm, content silence then, except for the gentle night breeze. The seven of them sat in their mis-matched lawn chairs—all of which were at varying heights and levels of decay—eating their burgers and sipping from brown bottles. This wasn’t a beach, like Dean had always imagined, but for now, it was close enough. Being immersed in the environment they had all built together was just as satisfying—if not more so—than having his toes buried in the sand. He felt fulfilled then, with his family around him, and the throw of the night settling contentedly over him. Everything was in order. He was able to sit still, and just enjoy it all, moment by moment, without worrying. The relief was so overwhelming that he worried it might be fleeting.

He glanced to his left, and saw Cas there, waiting for his gaze again. Dean’s face softened into a warm smile, just staring into those baby blue eyes. Cas’s smile was mostly in the eyes usually, but right then, it was in his mouth too. He was just as happy as Dean—if not partially because of how happy Dean was.

In that silent look, shared just between the two of them, Dean thought of a name for the strong feelings he’d always had towards Cas: love. Just love. There were no rules about it, no boxes needed to categorize it anymore, or a need to hide its true meaning from him. Dean was just in love, and he was in love with Castiel. Somehow, Cas knew it too, but Dean swore then, to himself, that he would find a way to say it—he would say it for Cas, because that’s what he deserved. He deserved to hear Dean say that he loved him, and he would, just not then, in front of other people. When he did say it, the moment would be reserved for the two of them, just how Cas would like. There was an overwhelming sense of warmth and relief in accepting his feelings. Dean, right then, was so content that he could stay still there, forever, when he had long-been a man in search of a new road to run away down.

Sam pulled out his phone, connecting it to the speaker he’d set down beside his chair. Night Moves began playing softly. Dean glanced over at him, a deeply-felt smile on his face. Sam smiled back, lifting his bottle to his brother. Silently, Dean did the same, and they shared a moment together. When they took their sips, they glanced over at the rest of their group, all of whom were staring up into the sky with satisfied looks on their faces, some nodding along to the song.

Sam glanced down as Sadie rested her head on his shoulder, still staring up at the stars. He knew he’d said it before, but right then, he felt the need to say it again.

“Sadie?” He barely breathed.

She turned to look at him equivocally, then saw the tenderness in his face. Her expression softened into an almost dopey smile of adoration. “What?”

The corner of his mouth rose and for a moment, he just smiled down at her, then he said. “I love you.”

Even though she’d heard him say it before, her cheeks still burned, making him smile even more. “I love you, too.”

He adjusted his grip on her hand and bent down a little to press a quick, chaste peck on her lips. When they pulled apart, she lay her head back on his shoulder. Her eyes drifted up to across the horseshoe, where Ian was shaking his head with a smile.

You two are dorks. He said to her.

Shut up. Sadie snorted a laugh aloud, rolling her eyes. She must’ve moved because Sam looked down, then followed her gaze to Ian. With a mischievous smirk, Sam leaned closer to her.

“Is he talking shit?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Yeah, he’s calling us dorks.” She replied.

“You oughta tell him that it must run in the family or something.” Sam replied, making her laugh and shake her head.

“I heard that!” Ian called, pretending to be mad for a moment before breaking character and laughing.

It was warm, and there was a pleasant breeze. Ian and Ren were teaching Jack how to play chopsticks, while Sadie and Sam sat quietly, snuggled together, staring up at the starts and listening to the banter. Beside Dean, Cas was also looking at the sky, a warm smile on his face. Dean thought then, looking around at them, that this was something he could get used to: a future. One that was insulated by love and family. One that was endless possibilities. One that was all for him to decide.

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WARNING: smut lol

“There is something different in you.” Michael commented to Ren later, “There’s… an energy. It’s dark but it’s neither good nor bad.”

Cath and Charlie were sitting at the table now, having returned with Jack and some overnight bags. Jack overheard Michael say this then replied thoughtfully.

“We all have in us the potential to do good as much as we have the potential to do bad.” He said, everyone quieting to listen, “Even if power is dark, good can still come from it. The person you are comes from the choices you make.”

All around the table, everyone nodded. After that they decided to get to the discussions about the new rules.

“So while Jack and I live our human life, we want to leave Michael, Zophiel, Tala, and Adam in-charge.” Ren said.

Everyone turned to look at the angels. For a moment, Michael disappeared into his own head.

He appeared in a field just like the one where he’d met Chuck. Instead of God, however, Adam stood there, smiling out at the view. Michael, a beam of pure light with multiple faces and wings moved up to stand beside him.

“You know what they’re asking of us?” Michael asked Adam.

Adam nodded, “Yeah, I was listening.”

“What do you think?” Michael glanced up at Adam.

Adam thought for a moment, then smiled. “I don’t know how I’ll feel in ten years—hell, I don’t even know how I’ll feel in ten days—but what I do know is that you and I need each other. I might want to leave later, but for now, I want to help you. It’s the least I can do.” He nodded solemnly, “I didn’t do much that was important with my life, and I’d like to make my mother proud. I’d like to make me proud of myself.”

Michael gave a nod. “I look forward to working with you… friend.”

Adam smiled softly at the angel and they both began paying attention to the outside world again. Michael spoke for them.

“Adam is on-board.” Michael said.

“So is Tala.” Zophiel nodded, “She loves to organize things.”

“Alright well, we’re not gonna be able to solve every problem in one night.” Sam pointed out.

“Fair.” Dean nodded.

“Well, let’s just take it one step at a time.” Sadie suggested.

They decided to start with Heaven. First they would remake it to be more open-world than before, at Adam’s suggestion. This meant that humans could visit one another in Heaven, not just exist in their memories. They drafted a plan to re-educate the angels with a special focus on building relationships between angels and their vessels as well as compassion for humanity. Dean asked about monsters that tried their best to be good people and they decided to rewrite the rules about who goes where after they die. Monsters would now be judged equally.

Finally, everyone got exhausted and slowly drifted off into their own corners. The kids took over the couch in the Cave, all of them falling asleep while watching Steven Universe. Left alone in the library, Dean poured he and Cas each a glass of whiskey—the nice kind he kept in the crystal decanter.

Cas smiled as he accepted the glass and Dean sat down next to him. Silently, they tapped their glasses together before they took a sip. Dean started straight ahead for a moment, lost in his thoughts, while Cas smiled a bit dreamily at his profile. After a second, Dean noticed him staring and turned to meet his gaze.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head slowly and smiled down at the cup in his lap. “Nothing.”

It was Dean’s turn to study Cas now as he contemplated.

“So, I’ve been, uh, thinking,” Cas cleared his throat, “my powers are failing. I could ask Jack and Ren to heal me or…”

Dean raised his brows. “Or?”

Cas looked up at him, “I could do what they’re doing.”

Dean frowned, “You mean live a human life?”

Cas shrugged, “I’d like to spend the rest of my life around certain… people.”

Dean smirked, “Well I think certain people would be into that.”

Deeper into the Bunker, Sadie was leaving the bathroom and walking back to her bunk when she turned a corner and stopped short. There, standing in front of the bunk beside hers, was Sam, his hand frozen on the doorknob as he stared down the hall at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. She paused in the middle of the corridor, hands fiddling with one another.

“Hi.” She said softly.

“Hey.” He replied at the same volume.

She took a careful step forwards. “You know, I, uh,” She stepped even closer, “I don’t have any clothes to wear to bed.”

He swallowed again, “Oh?”

She nodded, stopping right beside him. “You think you’ve got some clothes you can lend me?”

He leaned closer to her. She didn’t move away.

“I think I can help you with that.” He murmured to her.

She stayed perfectly still, leaning against the side of the doorframe. Sam’s hand rose to press into the wall beside her head and he got down a little lower. Her chin ticked up and he captured her lips in a sweet kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body flush with his. He groaned against her mouth, deepening the kiss.

They stumbled into his room in their haste. He pressed her up against the back of the door, trapping her hands above her head. She whined against him and writhed as he slid a knee between her thighs. Her hips ground down on his leg immediately, searching for any kind of friction. He kissed down her throat, moaning softly at the taste of her skin beneath his lips.

They broke apart for a moment to rid themselves both of their shirts, then they were crashing back into one another. It was a whirlwind of movement but finally he got her naked on his bed. He paused, staring down at her hungrily for a moment.

“What?” She asked.

He smirked and began to unbuckle his belt, “It’s just nice to see you back where you belong.”

Her brows rose in surprise, “Possessive.”

He shrugged, shucking off his pants. “What can I say? I like seeing you naked in my bed.”

She beamed as he stooped down and captured her lips in another kiss. She gripped the back of his hair tightly and kissed him back with all her might as he got completely on top of her. His hand slid down between them. She keened against his mouth as he slipped two fingers into her.

“Sam,” She whispered wantonly, making him growl.

He kissed furiously down her body, stopping to lavish her breasts. She squirmed beneath him, whining and writhing as he slowly fucked her with his fingers. He took a nipple into his mouth and she cried out his name again, louder this time.

“Sam!” She gasped.

“C’mon pretty girl,” He mumbled against her breast, “show me how good you look when you come for me.”

She let out a strangled whine as he ducked down to lick her clit. It didn’t take her long to do as he asked. He grinned, pulling away from her wet heat to watch her tremble as she came down, his fingers still lazily thrusting into her.

“There she goes.” He cooed, pulling his hand away to lick his fingers clean. “Perfect. You’re so good for me, sweetheart.”

She reached out and grabbed his shoulders, yanking him up to her lips. She kissed him fiercely, using her weight to turn them over so she was on top. Continuing to kiss him, she began grinding her wet pussy against his briefs. He groaned beneath her, hips bucking up to meet hers. She spoke to him between kisses.

“Take those boxers off before I tear them to shreds.” She muttered against his lips.

He subdued a smile and did as she asked. She wasted no time, lining him up and sinking down on his long cock. A choked whine escaped her at the sense of fullness and he groaned, watching her face as she took him for the first time. She slouched a little, eyes closed and reveling in the feeling before she began grinding her hips slowly.

His hands slid up her body, one coming to rest on her hip while the other cupped her breast. She covered the hand on her breast and began to lift off of him a couple inches before falling back down. She let out a cry of borderline frustration and forced herself to go faster.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” He whispered, watching his cock disappear in and out of her, “shit—so fucking good.”

She let out a strangled whine with the intonation of “Yeah?” It sounded a little pathetic and that made his nose wrinkle as he began bucking up to meet her thrusts.

Her hand slid down to start rubbing circles on her clit. She began to tremble after a minute and he knew she was climbing up to her orgasm. He renewed his efforts beneath her, doing the work as she froze up with her impending peak. She let out uncontrolled whines and keens, eyes closed and head tilted back. Her breasts bounced hard with every movement and he groaned at the sight.

“C’mon, Sadie,” He encouraged, “just come for me, baby.”

She let out a squeal and nodded, eyes squeezing tighter shut.

“Look at me.” He choked out, rising to his orgasm as well.

She forced her eyes open and looked down at him. He growled and slammed up into her. She was wide awake, her eyes fully open, when suddenly she saw another scene. She saw herself behind the wheel of the Evo, smiling over at the person whose perspective it was from; she was wearing a long purple dress and holding him beside a lake; she saw the reflection of herself in a mirror-like body of water; and then she was sitting in his arms, a lily in her hand.

She gasped and collapsed onto him, her orgasm rocketing through her with such a force that she lurched in his grasp. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, bending his knees and slamming up into her with fervor. She let out a whine that was stunted from his thrusts and then he roared as he came deep inside of her. She trembled in his arms, nuzzling closer to him. He sighed happily, breathing her in.

Ten minutes later, they were all cleaned up and laying in bed together. Their hands toyed with one another, their fingers sliding into the spaces between as they both stared on at them. His eyes flickered over to watch her face for a moment as she studied their hands. She had a little smile resting on her lips that made him smirk.

“I missed this.” He confessed softly, drawing her gaze.

She held his hand, giving it a squeeze as she scooted closer. “Me too.”

“You know what I really missed doing?” He grinned.

“What?” She chuckled.

“This!” He leapt on her, covering her whole body with his and laying his entire weight on her.

She laughed, embracing him as he enveloped her. She’d ask about the memories of her she did not have later.

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Cas and Dean stood close together in silence, unsure of what to say next. Dean let out a nervous sigh of laughter, making Cas smirk.

Headlights flooded the playground and they stepped apart a little but Cas’s hand tightened its grip on Dean’s. Dean didn’t let go as his brother got out of the Impala, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

“Cas?” He called as he drew closer.

Cas nodded, “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s me.”

Cas finally pulled his hand from Dean’s to give Sam a hug. Sam clapped him on the back a couple times, his eyes glassy.

“We thought you were gone for good.” Sam said.

Cas shook his head, the two of them stepping apart. “Jack and Ren, they got me back from the Empty. Jack put all the angels and demons that had woken up back to sleep for the Shadow and it set me free.”

Sam nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets. He glanced down and saw Dean and Cas’s hands close together but none touching. He subdued a smile.

“So, did I catch you two holding hands or was that just my imagination?” Sam smirked.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes performatively as Cas smiled at his profile. “We’re, uh, we’re figuring it out.”

This was clearly Dean’s way of saying he didn’t want to talk about it, but there was the distinct sense that it was simply a conversation on pause—he would talk about it when he was ready.

The portal opened behind Cas and Dean, all of them turning to face it. Ren and Jack appeared side-by-side, big smiles on their faces with Michael and Zophiel standing behind them. In her arms, Ren carried the box the Shadow had given her.

“We wanted to give you a minute.” Jack said, beaming at his fathers.

Blushing a little, Dean glanced away and they moved on.

“We want you to be on the committee that helps us rewrite the rules.” Ren explained, stepping closer to the Winchesters. “But first—”

She opened her hand and a ball of light shot out of it and into the air, flying away. With a smile, she opened the box and they all watched as millions of those little balls of light flew out of the box and into the air, all going in different directions. The light shone on all of their faces as they watched in wonder. The human souls returned to where they’d been as the day broke overhead.

When the last couple souls flew out of the box, the thing disintegrated into ash. Ren tipped her hand and let it all fall to the ground, then they piled into the Impala, Jack in the back between Ren and his father. Cas smiled at him as Dean started the engine and softly, Jack lay his head against his father’s shoulder.

A little while later, Dean pulled off the interstate, only about twenty minutes from the Bunker, when Jack spoke up.

“I think we ought to make a stop.” He said decidedly.

“Alright, where?” Dean glanced up at him through the rearview mirror.

“Why don’t we go visit Sadie and Ian?” Ren suggested.

Sam straightened in his seat, seeming to have just remembered that they were no longer gone. He and Dean shared a glance and Dean gave a nod.

Sam was out of the Impala before Dean had the engine turned off, running to the front door.

Inside of the house, Sadie’s head rose, and she jumped out of her seat.

Sam’s feet slammed halfway up the front steps when the door flew open. He paused, looking up to see Sadie standing there, her dark hair hanging around her and a warm smile on her lips. The pink in her cheeks was so tangible. He wanted to make sure she was real—he had to.

“Hi.” She breathed.

Without a word, he ran up and grabbed her. He pulled her against him with an almost bruising force, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She gasped a little, and the feeling of it—of her lungs moving, of the air being blown out of her mouth and tickling the ends of his hair—was further proof that it was real. He pulled back and cupped both of her cheeks, bringing his lips down to kiss her fiercely. Her hands tangled into his hair, and he was no longer unsure of the feeling. There was no question as to what about her was real and what was his mind filling in the blanks. All of her was real, at least for now.

Ian appeared in the doorway behind them, smiling. He had been a bit confused, but when he’d listened to Sam’s thoughts, he’d understood that they had been gone for some time. He peered around the two of them—Sam almost devouring her, as Sadie patiently allowed him to reacquaint himself with her mouth—and spotted two more familiar faces.

Ren and Jack looked up at Ian, having gotten out of the car to wait a bit nervously on the sidewalk. Without any further hesitation, Ian slipped past Sadie and Sam, going to his friends.

“Heya, campers.” Ian smirked, coming to a halt in front of them, “I hear it’s been a while for you two.”

There was a long pause, then without any warning, both Ren and Jack tackled him into a hug. Ian stumbled a bit at the force, but managed not to fall over. Each of them was on one of his sides, and they were squeezing him like they never wanted to let him go. Inside his chest, Ian felt his heart stutter as he looked down the couple inches he had on them at the tops of their heads. He… he had friends. He had people who cared about him—peers who cared about him. He had a community. It was small, and it was always being put in danger by something or other, but it was real. It was his. And fuck it, he was theirs. With a deeply felt smile, he hugged them both back a bit tighter.

On the porch, Sam couldn’t stop touching Sadie. He needed to keep making sure there were no holes forming—that she was complete, and real, and non-temporary, and the Sadie that mattered: the Sadie that was all of her and then some, not his imagination. Sometime during this, tears began falling out of his eyes, and he kept going.

All he wanted to do was exist with her—to know he was existing with her. In that moment, he thought that he might never be able to let go of her; he didn’t know if when he turned his back she would disappear again, so he vowed to keep a close watch. She might not like it very much, but he couldn’t risk it—maybe, in some sense, people do exist somewhat because they are being perceived. And if that was the case then he wasn’t going to stop perceiving her until he was sure she was there to stay.

When they finally broke apart for air, it was only long enough for him to wrap her back up again into a tight hug. She threw her arms around his neck, laughing at his intensity and using one hand to wipe some of his tears off of her cheek.

“I missed you so fucking much.” Sam murmured, a gentle trembling in his body as he heaved a deep breath.

Her face contorted sympathetically, and she began combing her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He let out a teary chuckle, one large palm sliding up between her shoulder blades and bringing her closer. He didn’t know that he could let her go.

“I dreamed about you.” He breathed, not sure why he was telling her this, “I dreamed about you every night. Every night I’d see you, but I then I’d wake up and I couldn’t be with you.”

Her arms tightened their grip on him, tears springing to her eyes.

“I missed talking to you, listening to you.” He shook his head slightly and buried his face further into her neck.

He inhaled, and he could smell her—the musky scent of her beneath the orchid shampoo she loved. The fact that he could smell those inspired in him a whole new round of joyful tears.

“Holy fuckin’ shit I can’t believe you’re really here.” He let out a watery chuckle, gathering her closer to his chest again, “You’re real. You’ve got a heartbeat, and a smell, and goddamn it you are so fucking warm.”

She let out a watery laugh, a tear slipping from her eye as she turned to gently kiss the side of his neck.

“Couldn’t feel you.” He shook his head against her, “When I was dreaming about you, I couldn’t feel you. I’d wake up every morning and think about how you weren’t out here, with a pulse, just alive, doing whatever it is you do every day.”

She sniffled, tugging his head closer to her. She hated that he had been hurt like this—that Chuck had taken away something that Sam cared about so much just to torture him; that Sam had lived for weeks missing her and thinking it was his fault that she was gone.

“I can’t—” He had to stop and wet his dry throat, “—Fuck—you’re real. You’re so fucking real.”

She nodded, desperately trying to pull him closer, even though there was no room left between them. At a shaky whisper, she replied, “You bet you’re ass I’m real, Spaceman.”

He laughed, the vibration of it against her so warm that it made her smile. She turned her head and kissed the first place she could reach—behind his ear, on the small scar there. It was from a bike accident Sam had endured when Dean was teaching him how to ride one. She pulled back to kiss his jaw, and any spot of him she could reach. He didn’t want to let her go, but he did, cupping her face again to kiss her, long and slow.

“Sadie,” He breathed when they pulled apart.

“What?” She murmured, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“I love you.” He said, staring directly into her eyes, “There’s nobody controlling things now. I love you.”

Her lips parted and her breath became a bit labored. It felt like the first time he’d said it—like a warm rush through all of her extremities, and a tingling in the tips of her fingers.

“I love you.” He repeated, still cupping both of her cheeks. “I love you. An—and I’ll say it to you every day if you need me to.”

“Sam—”

“—I’ll do anything to convince you.” He whispered, shuffling a bit closer to her. The eye-contact from him was intense, making goosebumps rise all over her skin. “I love you because I love you, not because some guy put you in front of me.”

She smiled, eyes full of tears that began spilling out onto her cheeks.

“Please come back to me.” He murmured, eyes staring desperately into hers, “If you… if you have to, you can fall in love with me again—make sure it’s real this time. Just give me a chance.”

Her body shuddered with a sob, tears increasing exponentially. “Sam, I never stopped loving you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was so overjoyed that he grabbed her and kissed her a bit roughly. She didn’t care—she loved him. He wrapped her back into a hug after a brief but intense kiss, and she began to whisper to him.

“I’m never gonna leave you like that, again.” She stroked his hair, her tears dampening the canvas of his jacket. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Sam—I love you so, so much.”

He tightened his hold on her and for a long while, they just stayed there, hugging and crying and reassuring. The longer it went on, the more Sam began to relax—the more he began to trust his perception. She was real. She was real, and she loved him, too.

“I just need to know you’re mine.” He muttered into her skin, “I’ll take less risks—I want to be there for you. I want you to be there with me.”

She beamed, turning her head to kiss his throat softly. “That, I can do.” She settled back into the crook of his neck, “I’m done with whatever principals I keep trying to uphold—I can’t hurt you like that anymore. It’s… it’s me being self-destructive but it hurts you, too, and I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I let that shithead get to me.”

He shook his head, silently telling her that there was no need to apologize as his grip on her tightened exponentially. A fresh set of tears spat out onto his cheeks, “Thank you.”

She nodded, weaving her fingers through his hair, “Not goin’ anywhere again. Not gonna make you wait for me.”

“Thank you.” He repeated with an urgent breath of relief, turning his head to kiss the first bit of her he could reach—it was just her hair but it still made her shiver against him.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She whispered.

He sighed, and gently they stepped apart—no more than a couple inches. He pulled her necklace out from under his shirt, lifting it off his head and placing it over hers. She gasped a little, in awe of its appearance.

Tiny anxieties began to worry Sam as he watched the necklace settle on her. “The both of us are gonna need to get to know each other again.”

With a wry smile up at him, she gave a shrug. “I liked gettin’ to know you the first and second times. ‘Can’t imagine I won’t like it, again.”

He beamed, watching her hands immediately begin absent-mindedly playing with Tyler’s ring.

Cas and Dean got out of the car slowly, smiling at everyone reuniting. They waited beside the Impala when something occurred to Dean. Excitedly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

“Dean?” A woman picked up.

“Charlie!” Dean grinned, “It’s nice to hear your voice, kid.”

“We talked the other day!” Charlie laughed.

“Yeah, well that was a while ago for some of us.” Dean shared a glance with Cas who only smiled.

Ian approached then and Cas stepped away to wrap him up in a hug.

“Is Cath there, too?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, unless she left since the last time I checked.” Charlie replied, “What’s this all about, Dean?”

Dean nodded, “I’ll tell you, just haul ass down to the Bunker. And bring Cath.”

“A—alright.” Charlie said, “See you in a bit, I guess.”

Dean hung up just in time to accept Ian’s hug. He smiled, clapping Ian on the back a couple times before they pulled apart.

“You’re a sigh for sore eyes, boy-genius.” Dean said, one hand still on Ian’s shoulder.

Ian beamed, blushing a little.

On the lawn, Sam finally let Sadie go greet everyone else. She ran down the porch steps to crash into Ren, the two of them embracing tightly. Jack looked on from the side, a smile on his face. Sadie glanced up and noticed him, then with a big, watery smile, beckoned him closer. He collided into them, too, and they all laughed, holding each other tightly. Sadie kissed them both on the top of their heads then they pulled apart.

“Sadie,” Ren began, “do you remember?”

Sadie frowned, “Remember what?”

Jack and Ren shared a glance then nodded to her.

“You will.” Jack said with a smile.

Sadie frowned at them a little, but then Dean was calling her over. She patted them both on the shoulder then rushed over to hug Dean before doing the same to Cas.

They drove back to the Bunker together, Sam in the Evo with Sadie while everyone else squeezed into the Impala. As they went, Sam took her hand from the wheel and laced his fingers softly through hers. He watched her face as she smiled at the road.

Zophiel and Michael were waiting when they arrived. Introductions were made and then they went inside. The kids pulled all the desks in the library together into a large square so everyone could fit around it. Dean and Cas got everyone drinks, while Sadie and Sam prepared the minimal snacks available in the Bunker. Soon, they were all sat around the table with two seats empty, awaiting Cath and Charlie.

Dean raised his beer, all of the table becoming silent for a moment. “To a job well done.”

All of them beamed and raised their drinks, Michael and Zophiel smiling softly at them as they watched.

“When ‘re Cath and Charlie getting here?” Jack asked when they all were done taking a sip.

“Ugh, knowing them they probably haven’t even left yet.” Sadie glanced down at her phone.

“Hey,” Sam perked up a little beside her, turning to Michael and Zophiel, “could one of you two go and get them?”

Zophiel sighed, “Sadly I’m very weak right now, I don’t think I could carry two humans and fly.”

Michael nodded, “I brought them here with me.”

“I’ll go get them.” Jack said.

Dean smiled, “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack nodded once before disappearing. Zophiel looked down in shame, and Dean caught on.

“Y’alright there, Zophiel?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer.

They nodded before sheepishly saying, “I only wish I’d been able to help more. And sooner.”

“Well, we’re lucky you helped us at all.” Dean replied solemnly.

They smiled softly, but looked rather sad.

“Y’alright?” Dean cocked his head.

“I’m damaged so I can’t communicate with my vessel.” They said.

“What do you mean?” Sam frowned.

“I put her in a coma of sorts while I heal us both.” Zophiel explained.

Meanwhile, a couple chairs down, the words faded away as a soft white noise filled Ren’s ears. She stared at them for a long moment, almost entranced, then stood from her chair. Everyone in the room turned to watch as she walked right over to Zophiel and touched two fingers to their forehead. They gasped like a bucket of water had just been dumped on them, then settled, their eyes glazed over.

Inside Mahalia Tala Dalisay, two identical figures stood facing one another. One beamed before rushing over to wrap the other into a tight hug. They blinked and quickly made themselves hold her back. They shared everything once again so Tala knew all that had happened and she only had one thing to say.

“I am so proud of you.”

A pang of something shot through Zophiel’s whole being and they embraced her tighter.

It only took a second before Ren’s hand was pulling away from Zophiel’s forehead and they returned from out of their head. They blinked, looking up at Ren in confusion. She was frozen, staring at her hand in disbelief for a moment before she met their gaze.

“Woah.” Ren said.

“What just happened?” Dean asked, concerned.

“She healed me.” Zophiel replied, staring up at Ren in wonder.

Ren turned to look at Dean, equally surprised as everyone else. “I just… suddenly knew I could do it.”

In Reno the streets bustled along, a woman in a long dress moving among them. She sensed something, pausing in her tracks. She cocked her head, closing one eye and squinting up at the clear blue sky. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. With that, she disappeared into the world of humans.

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• PART TEN: DÉNOUEMENT •

Dénouement (noun) ~

1. The final outcome of the main dramatic complication in a literary work

An hour later, the Impala pulled up in front of a train station and paused. They all got out of the car one-by-one until they were standing beside it, watching Amara look up at the building. She turned and found them all staring.

“So, what now?” Dean asked, “You’re free.”

Amara’s eyes flickered around as she tried to come up with something, then she paused. With a smile, she lifted her head to meet his gaze again, “I’m gonna go to Reno.”

Sam stepped forwards, holding out a hand, “Stay safe.”

She smiled, shaking his hand briefly and nodding her thanks. She then turned to Ren. Taking a step forwards, she cupped Ren’s cheek and beamed down at her.

“Well done. You did it.” She said, “Just like I knew you could.”

Ren’s eyes became glassy as she stared up at the primordial being. Without another word, Amara leaned forward to press her forehead against Ren’s. They stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, then she pulled away.

“If you ever need me,” She said, already moving towards the station’s steps, “I’ll be in Reno.”

“Wait,” Dean frowned, “how are you going to ride the train? There’s no one here to drive it.”

Amara smirked mischievously, “Leave that to me.”

Dean blinked in surprise but said nothing else. They all smiled at her, Sam offering a little wave. She beamed and then turned to walk into the train station. The rest of them returned to the Impala. There was a long moment of silence.

“Now what?” Dean finally asked.

Sam turned in his seat, “Jack, are you the new God?”

“No I’m just Jack.” Jack replied, “I have his power but I won’t take his title. I think I’ll be more like a caretaker.”

“A steward.” Ren suggested to which he nodded.

“O—okay, but what does that mean?” Sam asked.

Jack frowned, “I’m not sure. I guess I ought to go sort out Heaven.”

“Right now?” Ren asked, suddenly concerned. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Jack thought for a moment, “Chuck’s mistake was that he inserted himself into the story. I won’t make the same mistake.”

“But that’s not true.” Ren shook her head, “His mistake was that he didn’t understand his own creation. And if you go away now, neither will you.”

“What’re you suggesting, Ren?” Sam asked.

She shrugged, “Maybe that he lives life as a human first and then becomes the steward.”

Jack looked around at all of them and found that this was what they all wanted—they all wanted him to stay.

“Well, I’ll still have to sort out Heaven.” Jack said.

Dean nodded and faced forwards again, “Then let’s get you to the sandbox.”

As he pulled onto the interstate, Ren and Jack turned to look at each other. Without a word, they scooted closer together so they could talk quietly without the Winchesters listening in.

“I’m worried, Ren.” He whispered. “What if it goes to my head? All the power?”

She shook her head, “That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She smiled softly at him, “Because we’ll be together. We’ll keep each other on-track.”

* * *

The sun had set by the time they reached the sandbox. They pulled up and got out, all walking over to stand beside it.

“You know how to open this thing?” Dean asked Jack who shook his head.

“We could—” Sam began when the sigil in the sandbox lit up.

All of them stepped back as the portal opened. A foot stepped out and there, standing in front of them was Michael. The portal dimmed and then closed behind him. They were all stunned for a moment then Sam spoke.

“Do you… do you remember what happened?” He asked.

Michael nodded, “Yes. Did it work?”

Sam nodded back with a smile, “Yeah, it did.”

A light smirk graced Michael’s lips and he nodded once more.

“Is Adam back?” Dean asked.

Michael shook his head. “No.”

“Well, we’ll figure that out.” Jack stepped forwards, “Will you continue to help us, uncle?”

The angel thought for a long moment then nodded slowly. “Yes. I was made for war, but I… I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore.” He said, “After all of this destruction, and all of the pain, I want to truly honor my father’s creation. To honor the man who has become my best friend, and the world that shaped him. Adam is proof that there are people in the world who need to be protected—people that need to be kept from manipulation, like how I and Zachariah manipulated him. I have to do penance.”

Sam and Dean shared a surprised look.

“I hereby swear loyalty to humanity above all else.” Michael said, “And I’d like to help usher in a new world order. A better world order.”

“Great.” Dean said when no one else spoke.

“Thanks.” Sam nodded, a surprised look on his face.

“Can you take us to Heaven?” Ren asked.

He nodded, “Come with me.”

The portal opened again and without hesitation, Ren and Jack stepped forwards. She paused and caught his wrist, making him stop too. Together, they turned to face the Winchesters.

“We’ll be back.” Ren said.

“You’ll wait for us, right?” Jack asked.

The Winchesters were frozen for a moment but then both nodded.

“Yeah, go on.” Dean nodded.

“We’ll be here when you get back.” Sam said.

With that, they stepped through the portal beside Michael.

Ren opened her eyes and found herself in a long white hallway. Michael led them through a maze of corridors until they came to the throne room. They paused in the doorway and Jack snapped his fingers. The room transformed into an office with two desks facing each other. Michael smiled at this then turned to face them.

“I’ll go see what kind of state Heaven is in.” Michael said, “I’ll be right back.”

In a blink, he was gone, leaving them alone. Ren stepped forwards to run a hand across the edge of the closest desk.

“They’re for us.” Jack piped up.

Ren glanced back at him. “What?”

He stepped forwards with a small smile, “This is our office.”

Ren let out a little laugh, “What’ll we be doing here?”

“You said you’d be with me.” Jack said, “That you’d stay with me.”

She nodded, smiling softly at him. “Yeah, I did.”

There was a pause and then something began pulling Ren’s chest. She frowned and followed the pull, allowing it to lead her back into the hallway outside the office, almost in a daze.

“Ren?” Jack asked, concerned but following anyways.

In Heaven’s Garden, a form lay on a patch of grass surrounded by all types of flora from all over the Earth. The body shifted on the ground, turning onto their back. Golden light was filtering in through their eyelids until something blocked it. They opened their eyes and found Ren there. She had tears in her eyes and a big smile on her face. Without a word, she held out a hand.

Zophiel took her hand and allowed her to pull them to their feet. They stood, reborn in the same vessel with different clothes—a light, sunshine yellow chiffon button-down under a blue blazer with matching pants and Oxfords on their feet. They glanced down at themself and then looked up at Ren.

“Renna?” They frowned, unsure of why they were alive.

Ren threw her arms around the angel’s neck, yanking them into a hug. They blinked in surprise, frozen for a moment before they carefully held her back. After a couple seconds, they squeezed her a little tighter, closing their eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Ren said softly to them.

For the first time in all of their existence, Zophiel’s eyes began to tear up.

They pulled apart and then Zophiel finally noticed Jack. They held out a hand.

“Hello, Jack.” They said a bit stiffly, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jack smiled and shook their hand. “Me too.”

There was a pause in which Zophiel turned to study Ren with a frown.

“What?” She asked.

They shook their head a little, “I’m… not sure. There’s just… something different about you.”

“There you are.” A new voice spoke behind them. They all turned to see Michael there. He smiled and drew closer, “Zophiel. It’s been a long time since you were in Heaven.”

Zophiel blinked, “You—… you remember me?”

Michael nodded, “Of course.”

Jack looked back and forth between them, an idea occurring to him. “I have an idea.”

They all turned to look at him.

“‘Keepers of Heaven’.” Jack said, “While Ren and I live our human life, you two ought to be in charge.”

Zophiel and Michael shared a glance.

“I’m not sure—” Zophiel began as Michael said, “Maybe someone new should—”

“—But don’t you see?” Jack asked, “You two are the perfect candidates. You both love your vessels and appreciate humanity. You both want to do right in this world. This is how you can.”

Zophiel and Michael looked at each other again.

“Well, we should make a plan and put it in writing before we gather up all the angels and tell them the agenda.” Ren spoke up, “With Sam and Dean.”

Michael and Zophiel nodded in understanding. Michael raised a hand to indicate the exit. “Shall we?”

Jack and Ren turned to look at each other. Slowly, a knowing smile broke out across Jack’s face. Ren cocked her head and then suddenly seemed to understand. Jack looked up at the angels.

“There’s something we need to get, first.”

Michael led Jack, Zophiel, and Ren down corridors until they came to an unmarked door all the way in a corner no one visited. He paused in front of it, hand inches from the doorknob before he turned back to look at Jack and Ren, Zophiel towering above from behind.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” He asked.

Jack and Ren shared a glance then smiled. Jack turned back to Michael. “We’ll be fine.”

Michael made a face that didn’t look sure but he opened the door anyways. Ren’s hand gently caught ahold of Jack’s and they stepped through the door into dizzying darkness. They opened their eyes and found a deep maroon surrounding them.

There was complete silence for a moment, then a scene appeared before them. The Shadow sat at a table with another chair across from it, playing checkers. The chair in front of it was too tall to see the person slumped in it.

“How did you get in here?” The Shadow asked without looking up from its game.

“You know how I got here.” A woman spoke back with little patience.

At the sound of her voice, both Jack and Ren perked up.

The Shadow slowly lifted its head to give her a flat look. “I was talking to them, cupcake.”

“Who—?” Sadie leaned around her chair and froze, a look of utter disbelief on her face before she barely breathed, “Jack? Ren?”

Ren nodded vigorously and rushed forwards. Sadie shot up out of her chair and shoved it out of her way to catch Ren in her arms. Jack drew closer as well, waiting his turn.

“Is it really you?” Ren asked against her shoulder.

Sadie nodded, “Yeah, it’s me, Squirt.”

They pulled apart and she immediately moved to Jack.

“Jacky,” She said softly, the two of them colliding with a thump.

“So good to see you.” Jack replied quietly, holding her back.

“Alright then, what’s all this?” The Shadow piped up, making them break apart. “You gonna explode again, boy?”

Jack shook his head, “No.”

“Good.” The Shadow grumbled, setting a checkers piece down.

“We’re here for Castiel.” Jack said.

“Not gonna happen.” The Shadow replied, “Now, you gonna take all seven billion Earth-dwellers back with you when you go?”

Jack and Ren shared a confused look and Sadie filled them in.

“Chuck couldn’t destroy all the humans without wildly upsetting the cosmic balance, so instead he hid us here, in the Empty.”

“Oh, then yes.” Jack said to the Shadow. “We’ll take Castiel and all the humans.”

“This ain’t a store, kid. You get what you get and you don’t get upset, okay? Coolio.” The Shadow snapped and a box thumped onto the table beside the checkers game. “The humans are in there.”

Ren carefully picked up the box, eyeing it warily.

“What would you take in exchange for Castiel?” Jack asked.

“Nothing.” The Shadow snapped.

Sadie watched it for a moment then took a step towards it. “Why?”

The Shadow’s gaze flickered over to her.

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” Sadie snapped, “You want all the demons and angels that have woken up and been bothering you to be put back to sleep, right? Well, maybe we can figure out a way to do that for you so you can get some rest.”

The Shadow simply stared at her in suspicion for a moment. Then, its gaze flitted back over to Jack. “And you can make that happen?”

Jack nodded, “I think so.”

“You think so.” The Shadow repeated flatly.

“Well, I’ve never done it before but I’m sure I can.”

The Shadow bit the Innside of its cheek and sat back in its chair, crossing its arms over its chest. It considered silently for a long moment then said, “I’ll think about it.”

Jack and Ren turned with despairing expressions to Sadie. She simply glared at the Shadow with all her might.

“Just let it go.” Sadie said, “He woke you up, so what? There’s a way you can go back to sleep now and you’re not gonna take it just to spite one angel?”

The Shadow stared at her angrily for a long moment, then it relaxed. Rolling its eyes tiredly, it rested an elbow on the armrest and waved its hand. A body appeared beside it, wearing a tan trench coat. Sadie and Jack rushed forwards to pull him up from the ground.

“Cas?” Jack asked, peering at his father, “Cas?”

“Ugh, what…?” He mumbled, slowly coming-to.

A door opened in the middle of the void, leading into a white hallway. Zophiel and Michael peered around the door to see into the Empty.

Jack only took a moment to put all the angels and demons that had awoken when he’d exploded back to sleep, and then they were moving towards the door. Jack and Cas stepped through while Sadie and Ren paused.

“See you on the other side.” Sadie smirked.

Ren smiled and raised a hand beside her. With a snap of her fingers, Sadie disappeared into a ball of light floating in the air. Ren reached up and took ahold of the softball-sized glowing object and held it close as she stepped into Heaven. Before her foot left the Empty, however, she paused as the Shadow spoke.

“Let me know when the conduit remembers.” It said.

Ren glanced back over her shoulder at it. The Shadow stared back evenly then gave her one nod.

“Until next time, mini-Amara.” It waved her off and she smirked.

* * *

Dean was sitting on a bench in the dark, staring at the sandbox and waiting for Ren and Jack to reappear. He was getting a little nervous about how long it was taking but there was nothing he could do. Sam had left a couple minutes ago to find them some food at a nearby supermarket. The world was still empty but he reassured himself that this wouldn’t last long.

Light shone onto Dean’s face as the portal opened. He shot up out of his seat, drawing closer instinctively. As the dust settled, only one figure stood in the sandbox. His head was bowed but there was no mistaking who he was. Castiel, reborn, wore a slightly different tan overcoat over his black suit and blue tie. He frowned and lifted his gaze from the ground to meet Dean’s.

“Dean?” He asked in his deep gravelly voice.

A breath of disbelief tumbled out of Dean. “Cas?”

Cas stepped out of the sandbox slowly, not drawing any closer.

“Are you real?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, “I… I think so.”

“Do you…” Dean swallowed, “…do you remember what… happened?”

“You mean do I remember what I said?” Cas nodded again, “Yes, Dean, I do.”

There was a long moment of silence after that.

“I was at peace with my decision to tell you my… true feelings.” Cas said, “There was a sense of security in knowing that there would be no consequences for me. It would all just be over and I’d… be at peace. But now, I… I’m not sure. The future is uncertain and I… I don’t know what to say.” Cas took a breath, “I understand that you might be upset—”

“—Yeah you’re damn right, I’m upset.” Dean interrupted with feeling, “How could you do that to me?”

Cas bowed his head but was surprised by Dean’s next words.

“You left me, just like everyone else.” Dean said, “But before you did you dumped a bunch of crap on me that I wasn’t ready for and then that was it!”

Cas sighed, still looking at the ground. Fuming, Dean shifted in place, staring at Cas’s downturned face.

“I didn’t even get a chance to respond! You were just gone! And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.” Dean said, “Do you know how much time I’ve spent thinking about things I wished I could tell you? How many hours I sat in the dark thinkin’ about how I would never get to tell you anything because you were gone?”

Cas swallowed, “So is this the end of our friendship? Is it all over?”

“Not over,” Dean said, taking a step closer to Cas, “just… changing. And… we both know I’m not very good at that but… but I… I’d like to try, Cas.”

Cas’s head rose slowly, a look of disbelief and cautious excitement on his face. He stared at Dean as he took another step closer not looking into Cas’s eyes.

“I missed you.” Dean shook his head slightly, “I missed you like I’ve never missed anything before.”

Cas wished he could reach out and touch Dean, but he stayed still. Dean swallowed and nodded once before he began to speak again.

“When you were gone, and I was moping around, I kept going in circles. I’d go around and around, thinkin’ about all the regrets I have and all the things that I missed and then… every damn time… I would come back to missing you.” His voice cracked slightly, thin and vulnerable as he continued, “There was a whole world of people gone out there, but all I could do was sit and think about how you were gone. You were gone, and I didn’t think I was gonna get you back—this time, it was different than before, I knew that—and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop wondering what it was that you’d seen in me. I mean, of all people in the world, you… you loved me? Me, the broken, salty, stubborn, angry man that teases you all the time and can’t take care of himself? I mean…” He scoffed slightly, “…I didn’t know what I could’ve ever done to deserve that kind of love. To… to be the one thing you wanted most in the world, I…”

He glanced to the side, eyes glassy as Cas stared unwaveringly at his face.

“I’ve never had someone say somethin’ to me like that before. You… you overwhelmed me, Cas.” Dean let out a watery chuckle, wiping his nose, “I’ve never… I’ve never felt so much before. Hearin’ those words over and over again in my head—seein’ you every night in my dreams—it was like torture. It was like… like I’d been shown what I could’a had this whole time, but was too stupid to realize. Because, I do care about you, Cas, I always have. I just… I never asked myself why?”

Cas stayed perfectly still as Dean took yet another step closer to him.

“When you were gone, after Lucifer killed you, I… I fell apart. Y’know, we’d lost a lot that day, but… but losing you hurt the most. It hurt so bad I didn’t think it would ever stop. I couldn’t forget about you—couldn’t believe that this time, for some goddamn reason—was the time that you… that… that you wouldn’t come back to me.” The last part was said in a small voice, almost as though he was unsure of it being an okay thing to say. “I didn’t know the first thing about takin’ care of Jack, and I… I just couldn’t stop thinkin’ that… that you oughta be there with me. That you and Sam oughta be raisin’ this kid, not me, I—I wasn’t good enough for it, and without you I was… it was all wrong. And this time,” He sighed, “this time was so much worse. So much worse. I had nothing left. I used to think that I only had Sam—I used to think there wasn’t anything else someone could take away from me—but I was so fuckin’ wrong. There is… there’s this hole in me that I didn’t… I didn’t have before you were gone. You… you… you changed me, Cas. Really, you did.”

Cas blinked, unable to believe his ears.

“Because of you, I… I learned how to forgive. I just… I had this constant feelin’ in me like… like I couldn’t let you go. And so I wouldn’t. And I think… I think that’s why it hurt so damn much every time you got taken away from me anyways. I don’t… there’s never been a lot of permanence in my life, and so, somewhere, I got used to people leavin’ me. Givin’ up on me. I got used to that, I thought but I… I couldn’t let you go. I can’t, still, I mean, just… standin’ here, lookin’ and talkin’ to you I—” Dean let out a chuckle, full of awe and eyes teary, “—I didn’t think I was ever gonna be able to do that again, and the thought of that…” Dean shook his head slowly, “…that fuckin’ crushed me, Cas.”

Cas’s brows furrowed sympathetically.

“You were someone I always just wanted to have in my life, regardless of mistakes and… and there… there was a reason for that. You and I, our… it’s different. It’s different than with everyone else.” Dean swallowed, “And I felt so damn stupid that I’d only figured it out after you’d died and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.”

Cas found himself holding his breath as Dean took a final step closer.

“I always thought I’d have more time.” Dean continued, “I put off thinkin’ about the things that were hard to think about because I always had more time. Someday, I’d be retired, and then I could deal with all of my problems, but… but I was just puttin’ it off, hopin’ I’d die a hero and be at peace before I had to figure it all out. And I’m… I’m so sorry, Cas. I should’a… well, I don’t know what I should’a done, but I know what I… I know what I want to do, now.”

There was a long moment of silence, Cas watching Dean’s downturned face with empathy. Dean took a deep breath and continued to avoid meeting Cas’s gaze, but the tension in his shoulders had released slightly. Then, slowly, Dean carefully took Cas’s hand.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice was thin and wispy, “you don’t have to—”

“—I want to.” Dean murmured, finally staring into Cas’s eyes, “And I’m sorry it took me so damn long to figure it out.”

Cas was stunned into silence, but his hand carefully began to hold Dean’s back. He stared up at Dean as he drew closer. Dean’s green eyes flickered down to Cas’s lips. Cas watched him consider them, then let his eyes fall closed as Dean gently pressed his lips to Cas’s.

All of the lightbulbs within fifty feet of them exploded all at once.

Dean only smiled against Cas’s mouth, the two of them pulling apart to rest their foreheads against one another. It was soft and tentative, the both of them in new territory. But one thing was for sure: it felt right.

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• PART NINE: KAIROS •

Kairos (noun) ~

1.  A time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action :  the opportune and decisive moment

Chuck stood outside the Bunker, scowling at it. For the one-hundred and sixteenth time, he tried to teleport into it. He found that he couldn’t. He began to pace, tapping his chin. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d been sigil-blasted from the library and he had spent all of that time trying to fight the magic keeping him out. He couldn’t see into the Bunker either, leaving him with a blindspot for the first time in all of time.

“What’re they doing? What’re they doing?” He muttered.

Suddenly, he felt something. It was like a beacon, shooting up from the middle of America. He immediately disappeared.

Chuck reappeared in a field, surrounded by tall yellow grass. The breeze drifted lazily between the trees on the edges of the field, and the sun hung low in the sky. In front of him, a man stood with his back towards God.

“Michael.” Chuck spoke, watching as he turned to face his father, “It’s been a long time.”

Michael started at him for a moment then replied, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Chuck shrugged, drawing closer slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Why? Because you sided with the Winchesters before?”

Michael swallowed and nodded, “It was… a lapse in judgement.”

“Hm.” Chuck stopped about a yard in front of his son. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t disintegrate you right this second.”

“One?” Michael’s brow twitched, “Because I can get the book for you.”

Chuck’s face shifted, now more intrigued. “My book?”

Michael nodded, “The Winchesters, they have a young woman who’s been able to read it.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, “Goddamn it. Well, what does it say?”

Michael shook his head, “They wouldn’t let me read it.”

“When did you talk to them?”

“They summoned me last night. I was in hiding.” Michael said, “Ever since you took… my vessel, I’ve been alone.”

“You’re welcome.” Chuck rolled his eyes, “Humans are so annoying.”

Michael swallowed and didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said, “I have always had one purpose in life. And that is to serve you.”

Chuck smiled, clearly satisfied with this. “Well, I already tried getting the book with your brother, what makes you different?”

“They trust me.” Michael replied, “I know their entire plan.”

“Well then please, do share with the class.”

“There is a spell.” Michael said, “One that can destroy you and your sister.”

“Keep going.” Chuck touched his chin again, beginning to pace.

“The girl, she can read the book. She will perform the spell at a specific location at a specific time, when the moon and sun are in the right places, and then you will be obliterated from the Earth.”

“Ha!” Chuck scoffed, “Like they can pull that off.”

“Not if you stop them.” Michael agreed.

Chuck smiled, “Where is this spell taking place?”

Michael nodded once, “Where the nephilim was born.”

* * *

The Impala pulled up in front of a stout little cottage on the edge of a lake. The cottage was run-down now, but inside was still the nursery Kelly Kline had painted for her son.

Sam and Dean got out of the front seat in-sync, eyeing the cottage with mixed emotion. Out of the back, Jack and Ren appeared, the latter holding God’s Death book. She looked terrible—her face was bruised and puffy—but she soldiered on. Michael appeared beside them, a stoic look on his face. Dean glanced back at him.

“You ready, Mike?” He asked.

Michael sighed at the nickname but nodded, “Yes.”

Dean turned to Ren and Jack who’d come to stand together. They both nodded too. He then glanced over at Sam who nodded once before going to get the ingredients from the trunk.

They worked in silence to prepare the spell. Michael stood and watched over them, quietly eyeing each member of the group. Ren hovered over Sam’s shoulder, watching as he began to pour the ingredients into the cauldron. Dean was using a stick to draw in the silty dirt around the cauldron. Sam held a hand up and Jack handed him a book of matches. Sam lit them all, letting them burn for a moment before he dropped them.

Time slowed down for a second, and everyone watched as the fire went out. The matches landed in the cauldron charred but they didn’t light up the ingredients. Michael, Jack, and Ren all immediately spun in place to find Chuck standing there in a light linen suit, his hands in his pockets.

He smiled smugly, cocking his head a little. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

Dean swallowed, glancing over to meet Sam’s gaze.

“Just give it up!” Chuck spread his arms. “I’ll always be one step ahead of you! I know all about your little plot.”

His gaze drifted across all of them to look at Michael.

Michael stepped forwards, nodding once. “Father.”

“Thank you for the heads up.” Chuck said, “But that’ll be all.”

He raised his hand beside him and hovered for a moment before he snapped. Michael exploded into ash, just like Zophiel, causing Ren to shriek.

“What was that for?!” Dean cried.

“He sided with you before, I can’t let that stand.” Chuck said, stepping closer.

Jack marched forwards towards God. Chuck waved his hand and sent Jack flying into a tree twenty yards away. Chuck’s eyes moved to Ren who swallowed, clutching the book closer to her chest. The Winchesters drew closer now, perfectly in-sync. With another wave of the hand, they went flying over God’s head to land in the sand beside the lake. Chuck continued to stare at Ren as they groaned behind him.

“What?” Chuck cocked his head, “You too scared, little one?”

Ren’s wide eyes stared up at him, her face full of pain and fear.

“That’s new.” Chuck observed, “Before I could barely get you to shut up. Gotta say, I prefer this version of you.”

With a tremble in her hand, she spun to run over to Jack where he was slowly recovering on the ground. Chuck snorted tiredly and raised a hand when a voice spoke behind him.

“Chuck!” Sam bellowed, catching his focus.

Chuck turned to face the Winchesters, “You two.”

Dean shifted in place, his eyes dark.

“You know, eternal suffering sounds good on paper but the viewing experience is… a little lacking.” Chuck said, “I’m canceling your show. We’re done.”

“Well,” Sam shrugged a shoulder and took a step closer, “one for the road.”

With that he punched Chuck in the face. Chuck seemed unaffected but Sam winced and shook his now sore hand. Chuck’s head turned back to give him a flat smile.

“Cute.”

With that he raised his hands to each of them. They both groaned in pain, doubling over. Smirking, Chuck drew closer. He slammed Sam in the nose, sending him to the ground. Dean swung at him. God caught his fist in one hand and twisted his arm roughly. Dean cried out and fell to his knee as Chuck held his arm.

Sam stumbled to his feet to go after Chuck. God waved his free hand and an invisible force slapped Sam so hard he tasted copper. Chuck turned to kick Dean in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the sand. Sam rushed him from the side, trying to tackle him. Chuck disappeared and Sam grabbed air. God appeared behind him and shoved him face-first into the sand.

Chuck watched them recover on the ground. “Stay down, fellas.”

Sam spat out the sand that had gotten into his mouth, standing up beside his brother. God’s vengeful fists beat them down over and over again. The only thing they lived to feel was pain. And yet, every time they got knocked down, they got back up.

“C’mon guys,” Chuck said, at this point he’d lost count of how many times he’d kicked them down.

Sam struggled up onto all fours, panting heavily. Dean got up from his knees and went at Chuck again. One punch from God and Dean was back in the sand. Sam straightened and Chuck stepped forwards to dislocate Sam’s shoulder. Sam howled in pain, hunching back down into the dirt. Chuck turned to stomp on Dean’s leg, cracking it in half.

“Come on, guys, just stay down.” Chuck shook his head, “You can’t win this one.”

Sam reached out to take his brother’s arm and heaved both of their broken bodies up off the ground. They stumbled a little but stood tall, bloodied and bruised, staring God evenly in the eye. And then they began to smile.

Chuck’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Why are you smiling?!”

Sam grinned, “Because.”

Dean nodded to something behind Chuck. “You lose.”

Beneath Chuck’s shoes, the sand sunk into the ground in an intricate pattern surrounded by a dual circle.

He tried to take a step out of the circle and found himself stuck. His panicked eyes shot up to the Winchesters before he turned in place to find Renna. She lowered her hand and her eyes glowed a deep indigo.

“What is this?” He scoffed, moving to kick the sand. In front of his eyes, the carvings prevailed, staying just the same as they were.

Jack drew up beside her, gaze glued on Chuck. “You got him?”

Ren nodded, eyes still glowing. “It’s all you, Turbo.”

Jack took a step forwards. Chuck raised a hand and snapped, trying to disintegrate the nephilim. Jack paused for a moment, glancing down at himself cockily before meeting Chuck’s gaze again.

“How?!” Chuck bellowed.

Jack only smirked and stepped into the trapping sigil. He moved towards Chuck who immediately backed away until he couldn’t anymore. Jack’s eyes illuminated and he raised both of his hands.

“No, no, no—no!” Chuck cried uselessly before Jack’s hands grabbed his head.

Amber vessels glowed under Chuck’s skin, expanding out from where Jack was holding his face. Jack trembled with all the energy. Chuck’s head tilted up to the sky and he cried out, light filtering out of his eye sockets and open mouth. There was a moment where everything was still as Chuck screamed, then he tumbled to the ground.

Jack began to glow all over, so intensely that he began to quiver. He swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to smother the energy threatening to break him into pieces. One of his fists clenched but before he could clench the other, a hand slipped into his.

Ren slowly laced her fingers between his. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused all her energy on sharing the load with him.

“Let it go,” She murmured, “let it go, Jack.”

He cried out animalistically. The light was too strong and the Winchesters had to shield their eyes. Ren gripped Jack’s hand tighter. There was a moment when the whole world went silent. And then in an explosion of energy, a pulse shot out from Jack and Ren.

The pulse washed over the Winchesters, healing their wounds. They blinked, turning to look at the dimming light. Slowly, their eyes went out, Ren’s face completely healed as well. Jack and Ren looked older somehow, like they’d grown up even though they were the same age. Birds took off from the trees and in the world, all the animals had returned. And in the sand in front of them, two bodies lay crumpled—one in a black floor-length dress.

Amara frowned and lifted her head, looking around in wonder. A hand came into her peripheral vision and she looked up. Ren smiled down at her. Almost in disbelief, Amara took her hand and let her help her up onto her feet.

Chuck rolled over in the sand then looked up as Amara stepped out of the trapping sigil. He struggled up onto his forearms and then felt two shadows fall over him. Slowly, he turned to look up at the Winchesters, the both of them stone-faced.

“What… what did you do?” Chuck asked, squinting up at them.

“We won.” Dean said.

Chuck glanced down and then looked back up. “So this is how I go, huh? I die at the hands of my own characters? This is the end of my book?”

“See for yourself.” Sam said.

Chuck glanced over to his other side, watching Ren as she picked the book up off the ground and tossed it to him, Amara and Jack on either side of her. Chuck scrambled across the sand to the book and ripped it open. Inside, all he found were empty pages.

“What?!” Chuck balked. “There’s—there’s nothing here!”

“Oh, no, there is.” Sam replied, “Only Death can read it.”

“So we had to come up with a plan B.” Dean cocked his head and stepped closer, “See, Mikey? Yeah, he gave you the wrong story.”

“The story we told him to tell you.” Sam added.

Chuck blinked in disbelief, “But… how…? How could he betray me again?”

“You took the one thing he cares about in this world.” Sam said, “You took Adam from him.”

Chuck’s eyes darted around, “But, he would choose a human over—over me? I wrote him—”

“—Locking someone up for hundreds of years will really change a person’s priorities.” Dean interrupted. “And Michael’s not a daddy’s boy anymore. He saw you for who you really are.”

“It was simple, really.” Sam said, “After Amara came to Ren in her dreams, a lot of things became clear. And once you came to visit us to kill Ren, we realized a couple things.”

“You see Ren figured out something while she was recovering from her beating.” Dean spoke, “She realized that she was the reason why you couldn’t kill Jack again. She exists outside of your story, so she made an edit.”

“An edit?” Chuck asked incredulously.

“I made sure you wouldn’t ever send Jack back to the Empty.” Ren said, drawing his focus for a moment. “I protected him from you. And it wasn’t the first time.”

“What?”

“Sadie.” Sam snapped darkly, “She protected Sadie from you, too.”

Amara glanced down at Ren, a spark of something close to pride in her eye.

“So once we were free to talk without you listening in, we came up with a plan.” Sam continued, “You see, when you showed up and beat the shit outta Ren, you released all kinds of energy.”

“God energy.” Dean clarified.

“And Jack absorbed it all.” Sam smirked.

“You see, he might’ve come back from the Empty without any powers but since his power comes from your bloodline, you charged him right up.” Dean also looked gleeful, “Oops.”

“Then it was only a matter of Ren designing a sigil strong enough to trap you.” Sam said, “Y’know, it took us some time, but you really made it kind of easy.”

“Once we realized we had the upper-hand with those two,” Dean nodded to Ren and Jack, “we came up with a plan pretty quickly.”

“We summoned Michael from where he was hiding and got him in on the plan.” Sam said, “And he sacrificed his life to avenge his best friend.”

Chuck was silent for a long moment and then a laugh tumbled out of him. He chuckled and rolled onto his side, squinting up at the Winchesters and nodding.

“See? This is why you’re my favorites.” Chuck said.

All of them looked at each other in mild confusion as Chuck continued.

“You know,” He said breathlessly, “for the first time I… I don’t know what happens next. Is this where you kill me?”

Sam and Dean shared a glance.

“I mean, I could never think of an ending where I lose. But this—after everything I’ve done to you…” He shook his head a little, “…To die at the hands of Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester—the ultimate killer—I mean, I’m honestly kind of honored. It’s kind of glorious.”

Dean took a step forwards, “Sorry, Chuck.”

Chuck hunched over himself, eyes squeezed shut. Dean took another step closer then stepped over Chuck’s outstretched legs. Sam followed, both of them coming to stand in line with Ren, Jack, and Amara. Chuck peeked out of one eye and turned over, a frown of confusion on his face.

“What?” He asked.

“See, that’s not who I am.” Dean said, “That’s not who we are.”

Chuck shook his head a little, “What kind of ending is this?!”

Sam glanced over at Jack. “You’re sure his power won’t come back?”

Jack stared down at Chuck with narrowed eyes, “It’s not his power anymore.”

Amara blinked, looking down for a moment as she considered something.

Sam nodded and turned back to answer Chuck’s question. “Then I think it’s the kind of ending where you’re just like us. And like all the other humans you forgot about.”

“It’s the ending where you grow old,” Dean said, “you get sick, and you just die.”

“And no one cares.” Sam added. “And no one remembers you. You’re just… forgotten.”

With that, they all turned away from him. He lay there on the ground, confused and weak, trying to catch up. Amara stared at her brother for a second when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to find Dean there.

“Can we give you a ride somewhere?” He asked.

There was a brief pause, but then a small smile broke out on her face. She nodded once, “Thank you, Dean.”

He shook his head, the rest of their party piling into the Impala. “Thank you.”

She frowned, cocking her head a little.

“For her.” He jerked his head gently towards the car. “Thank you for getting her back to us.”

Amara smiled, “Of course.”

Ren and Jack squeezed into the backseat with Amara and the engine rumbled to life. Chuck looked up as the car began to back up.

“No,” He breathed, stumbling up onto his feet, “no!”

The Impala did a three-point turn and then was facing the driveway.

“Wait! Wait!” Chuck scrambled after them but only got a face-full of dust as the Impala sped off.

They drove for a minute in silence and then they pulled onto a quiet backroad. Sam glanced over at his brother who was smiling behind the wheel. With a smirk of his own, he turned the stereo on. Ren’s phone had been plugged into the radio and she turned on Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.

[raspberry-starship]

700k+ word fic series

READ ON AO3 or READ ON TUMBLR

Highlights:

1. Charlie lives! 2. We give Jack friends 3. Sam has a goldfish 4. No more co-dependent Winchesters 5. Dean Winchester examines his feelings for once 6. Sam talks about his trauma & actually deals with it 7. Dean is held accountable for his actions 8. Cas adopts any and all orphans he comes across 9. Cas and Dean are gay 10. Slow burns all around 11. Dean chooses not to pass on trauma from his father to his surrogate kids 12. Sam actually gets to be mad about Dean letting Gadreel possess him 13. Lesbians with swords 14. Bisexuals with issues 15. Dean calls Cas "sunshine" at any and all opportunities 16. Apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle has a gf 17. Amara actually gets a good ending 18. Big found family :) 19. They/them angel

RATING: mature/explicit WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence :) CATEGORIES: F/M, F/F, M/M RELATIONSHIPS: [Sam/original character], [Charlie/original character], [Dean/Cas], [Jack, Sam, Dean & Cas], [Dean & another wayward teenager in need of a mentor], [Jack & original characters], [apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle/original female character], and a special focus on dismantling the codependence of the Winchesters. Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Chuck, Amara, Rowena, Charlie (original flavor), Missouri <3 (also doesn't die), apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle, both versions of Michael, Adam, a they/them angel and a couple other original characters for spice.

Summary: This series that strives to solve the Winchesters' codependency as well as include more women and queer characters in the Supernatural universe that do not get brutally murdered.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

Finally, after a minute or so, they pulled apart, each letting out long breaths. They both took a moment to wipe their cheeks quickly, avoiding each other’s eyes, before they looked at one another again. She gave him a weak smile, and he shook his head slowly.

“Kid, I am so glad to see you.” He spoke softly, a little out of breath. This made her eyes water again, and she let out a choked noise.

“I’m—” She winced, falling against the table.

He leaned forwards, holding her elbow and guiding her to a nearby armchair. She took a relieved sigh, settling in. He let out a tense breath from the pain in his ribs again, and turned to pull up a chair from the table facing her. He slumped down into it, breathing heavily.

“Holy shit, Ren.” He sighed, glancing over at the flaming sword that was still where she’d left it. Somehow, the flame licked every edge of the blade but did not damage the floor.

Her eyes flowed his gaze. As they both watched, the blade shrunk down into the necklace. The metal glinted dully under the lights. Dean, wearing a frown, leaned down to pick it up and examine the pendant. She followed the necklace with her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

“I—” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, “—Zophiel gave it to me. I had no idea that it was—” She made an indistinct gesture, “—the fuckin’ flaming sword.”

Dean’s eyes flickered from where he held the pendant up in the air to her. “This is some kind of famous angel weapon?”

She nodded, wincing as she shifted in her seat slightly, “It’s—it was supposedly used to guard the garden after Adam and Eve were—ugh!—exiled. And then, it was returned to the angels when Jesus died or came back to life or whatever. I read about it on Wikipedia.”

“And your angel had it?” Dean frowned.

She shrugged a shoulder, “I guess they did. They told me to keep it safe.”

Dean nodded slowly, eyeing the pendant. “’Guess they finally picked their side, huh?”

Ren looked down, almost pained. “Yeah.” She murmured, “It cost them their life.”

Dean’s eyes flickered over to her. “Did you see it happen?”

She nodded, gaze trained on the ground. “I wouldn’t—” She faltered slightly, “—I wouldn’t ‘ve made it back home without their help.” She looked up to Dean, “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”

Dean heaved a sigh, “Yeah, I don’t know any of us that did deserve what Chuck’s done.”

Downstairs, Sam tossed another box angrily over his shoulder. They couldn’t find anything, and time was running out. Jack was trying his best, but there was a lot of random information in this room—it was far less organized than other parts of the Bunker.

The noise of metal scraping against metal made both of them freeze. There was a creaking, like the door was opening, and from opposite sides of the room, Jack and Sam’s eyes met. Slowly, they poked their heads into the center aisle, peering out to see that the door was open, and there was no one waiting there. They shared another guarded look, but this one was slightly more confused than the last.

Sam pulled the gun he’d taken out of his pants earlier off the shelf beside him. Together, they began to creep out into the hallway. They moved slowly through the Bunker, growing more and more confused with the quiet. As they approached the library, they heard the murmurs of two people talking. Sam slowed and then stopped, looking over his shoulder at Jack so they could share a frown of confusion. Without much further delay, Sam burst through the library door, gun poised to shoot.

He blinked in surprise and froze when he saw Dean sitting in a chair, bloody but otherwise alive. Dean actually smiled up at him.

“Dean?” Sam asked, a bit breathless.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean actually gave him a little grin, before jerking his head to the side, indicating the armchair he was facing. “Look what the cat dragged in to save our sorry asses.”

Sam slowly lowered the gun, and stepped forwards, trying to see around the side of the chair, Jack following close behind. Sam’s eyes fell upon Ren and he stopped dead in his tracks. Jack took a step around Sam to see who it was, and then also froze. She grinned weakly up at them.

“Hi, Sam.” She said softly, holding her side. Her eyes fell on Jack. “Hey, Jack.”

Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It felt too good to be true. Jack, however, did not wait for any further encouragement, and instead almost sprinted the last couple steps towards her. She stood, immediately accepting his hug, despite the pain it caused her. He shuddered in her arms, breaking her heart a bit. Her fingers ran up the nape of his neck and into his hair, pressing herself closer to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, despite how dirty she was. She let out a small, breathy laugh, her hands grabbing at him in an effort to pull him even closer than he already was. His hands slowly balled into fists, each full of the back of her shirt.

They pulled apart, and for a moment, they just stared at each other—his hands on her waist and hers cupping his cheeks. They beamed at each other, and then her hands slid from his face to his shoulders, where she gave him a little pat. He wanted her to stay, but they both knew there was someone else waiting to greet her.

Sam shuffled forwards, tears in his eyes, bending down to wrap Ren up in a bear-hug. She laughed gently, squeezing him back. They pulled apart after a moment, and he beamed down at her.

“You sure are a sight for sore eyes, Ren.” He managed to say without getting too teary.

She let out a watery chuckle, “Imagine how I feel!” She joked, wiping under one of her eyes, “I’ve been alone for two weeks!” She glanced around at all three of them, in turn, tears of joy in her eyes, “I missed you guys so much.”

They decided that they would clean up the library later. Right then, Dean wanted a beer, and for someone to stitch up his ribs. They stayed amongst the mess, but moved to one of the library tables. Dean was sat in a chair holding his shirt up, while Sam sat in the seat beside him, cleaning his wound. Ren was across the table from them, slumped onto her forearms, while Jack moved around from place to place—getting Dean a beer, getting Ren some water, hovering over Sam to see if he needed anything.

“So, Ren,” Sam glanced over at her as she lifted her head drowsily from the table, “what happened to you?”

“Yeah,” Jack slid into the seat beside Ren, “you said you needed to be alone for a minute, and then you were gone.”

She sighed, resting her head in one of her hands. “I was in the woods, and then Chuck showed up.”

“And?” Sam prompted further.

“Well,” She exhaled, “he taunted me a bit, then told me that he has quote: ‘never despised anything as much as he despises me’.” She rolled her eyes, “And then, he made me trip and fall through a portal that dropped me in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.”

Dean’s brow furrowed at that. He turned to look at her, “What? Why?”

For a moment, she was quiet, then her eyes flickered up to meet his, a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Well, turns out he… can’t kill me.”

All three of the men froze. Sam turned his head slowly to look at her, trying to make sure she was being serious.

She shrugged, “He tried to get me to die from exposure, but no such luck!” She grinned, “Because I had someone watching over me.”

“Who? Zophiel? Your angel?” Dean asked.

She nodded, “Yes, them too, but first it was Amara.”

“Amara?” Sam frowned incredulously, “What? I thought she’d gotten absorbed—I thought she was gone.”

Ren scoffed, “Yeah, that’s what Chuck wants you to think.” She said bitterly, “What really happened is that he tricked her into letting him absorb her being a while ago—probably right around when Jack lost his soul—but she’s still conscious in there. When I was floating in the ocean, dehydrated and on the brink of giving up, I found a buoy—thank goodness—and then I took a nap, and she came to me in my dream.”

“Amara.” Dean frowned, not sure they were talking about the same person, “Like, the Darkness, Amara?”

“Yeah, dude.” Ren replied, shooting him a confused look. “I’ll just say one thing: she deserves a lot better than she’s gotten.”

Sam and Dean shared a tense look—they had seen what she did to Earth when she was first set free.

“Listen,” Ren recalled their attention as Sam finished the sutures and began cleaning up, while Dean eased himself into the seat diagonal from her. “I get it, she did some wack shit, but she’s aware of that. She’s come to really understand humans and the validity of our existence in a very profound way. To hear her talk about it is really beautiful—she’s so articulate.” Ren wore a kind of dreamy expression, clearly thinking fondly of the time she spent with Amara.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Alright, girl-crush, come on, let’s get to the point.”

Ren shot him a little scowl, but did as he asked nevertheless. “Well, then I used my powers to find a boat, and then I took that boat to shore, where I landed in California, then the roads were too crowded to drive so I had to start walking. And I made it pretty far, until I got to the desert, and then shit got real unpleasant.

But, before that, when I was in Yosemite, Zophiel came to visit me, and that’s when they gave me the necklace.” She nodded to where it was laying on the table, “I didn’t see them again until the desert, when they showed up, gave me some more stuff, and then sacrificed themself to distract Chuck from finding me again.”

“What?” Sam frowned, now a bit confused.

Ren explained to them all that she had learned about Zophiel—their observatory, their job, their conversation about identity—and then launched into an update about what she had learned about her own powers. By the end, Sam and Dean were looking a little slack-jawed.

“Oh god,” She sighed, “it just… I’m sorry if I’m talking, like, a lot, it’s just… it’s so nice to be around people again.” She let out a small laugh, looking down at her hands.

Sam’s eyes flickered over to the necklace, and he tugged it over to examine it. She glanced up, watching his face cautiously, like she was afraid he’d scold her for using such a powerful weapon.

“I’ve read about this.” He said softly, turning it over in one hand, “It’s literally just a sword that’s on fire?”

She nodded in response. He made an impressed face, then saw Dean frowning at him.

“Some people thought that the ‘flaming sword’ was really just a bolt of lightning that angels could wield.” He turned back to Ren, “I thought that the sword belonged to someone else though, not Zophiel.”

“Well, Zophiel is never really mentioned in a lot of the lore.” Ren explained, “Most of the time, they were confused with their brother, Jophiel, who was more of a heavenly caretaker than anything else. He was killed a couple years ago, apparently. And, as far as I know, all the other angels who’ve been accredited with this weapon are dead. Now, including Zophiel, but before that, um… yeah.” She grew sad again, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So…” Dean frowned, watching as Sam handed her back the necklace, “…Chuck can’t write you into his story.”

“Mhm.” She nodded, pulling the chain over her head, “He cannot decide my fate, therefore, he cannot kill me. And things that use his magic—his ‘god-power’—don’t have an effect on me.”

“Huh.” Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Right about now, I kind of wish I had that kind of security.” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Ren looked down, solemn suddenly. “Yeah, well, just ‘cause he can’t kill me doesn’t mean it stops him from trying.”

Both Winchesters’ brows furrowed sympathetically, and Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe, Ren.”

She smiled sadly up at him from where she was hunched slightly over herself. “I’m not worried about me, Jack.” She said, voice barely at a whisper.

“She’s worried about you guys!” A new voice cried suddenly from the war room. They all jumped, turning to see Chuck standing there, wearing a dark, bloody magenta suit with a black button-down. “Imagine that.” He sighed contentedly.

“Chuck.” Dean growled, standing from his chair.

“Ah-ah!” Chuck lifted a hand to wave Dean into one of the cement columns.

“Oh, come on!” Dean bellowed, exceedingly annoyed at being trapped again.

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Sam and Jack were similarly pinned to cement columns. Chuck walked forwards, eyeing them curiously.

“Sam, Jack,” He sighed, “glad you two could make it! I wasn’t sure if you’d even take the bait when I unlocked that door, but, I won’t complain.”

Dean turned to shoot Sam a menacing bitch-face. “You didn’t think God opening up the locked door was worth mentioning?!”

Sam scowled incredulously, “I thought it was Ren!”

Chuck snapped his fingers, and suddenly, none of the three of them made any noise when they tried to speak. Ren glanced around at them worriedly, as Chuck began to walk menacingly towards her. Instinctively, she backed away from him. Her hand flew up to the front of her shirt, wrapping around the sword pendant. It began to glow, and she yanked the chain off over her head.

There was a bright light, and then the blade transformed. Ren rooted her feet, raising the flaming sword. Chuck laughed, making her frown in confusion.

“Oh, Renna.” He smirked snarkily, “You really think that old thing can do hurt me?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged a shoulder, lowering her voice, “But I believe in the scientific method, so why don’t you come over here and we can test the hypothesis.”

Chuck gave her an unamused stare. “Cute.” He said sarcastically.

“I try.” She replied, before using her mind to shove the table between her and Chuck out of the way.

He watched it skid across the library, seeming unimpressed. Behind him, the Winchesters struggled against their restraints. Chuck turned back to Ren as she charged him.

His figure dissolved, then reappeared behind her. She spun, sensing his presence. The sword sliced through the air. He was gone again. She spun on her heel. He appeared to her left. She swung the sword wildly as she turned to face him. Suddenly, it hit something.

Chuck’s hand was raised, his palm pressed against the flaming blade without any ill-effect. He gave her a little “I told you so” look, then wrapped his whole hand around the sword. Immediately, she tried to yank it away, then it grew so hot that she could hardly bare to touch it, making her loosen her grip enough for him to yank it away. She yelped, stumbling back from the force of letting go. They all watched in horror as Chuck’s bare hand melted the sword down into molten metal, dripping onto the floor.

“No!” Ren cried, her face full of despair.

“Uh… yes.” Chuck smirked before he disappeared.

A pair of strong hands shoved her shoulders from behind really hard. She stumbled forwards, trying not to fall down. Chuck appeared in front of her, where he grabbed a fist-full of her hair. As she let out a screech of reproach, he lifted his knee, slamming her nose into it. With that, he let her go. She crumpled to the ground instantly.

“Did you really think you could beat me?” Chuck laughed humorlessly, “I mean, come on, you may have some of Amara’s juice but you’re nowhere near my level, kid.”

Slowly, Ren lifted her sore body from the floor, blood oozing from her mouth. “That’s the problem with you, Chuck.” She said breathlessly, heaving herself to her feet, where she had to take a step forwards to balance herself. “You’ve got an ego even bigger than Lucifer’s.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then added, “That and also you’re a mysogynist, mass murderer, and generally unlikable person. Those characters are the ones the good guys kill.”

This pricked Chuck the wrong way, just as she’d meant it to. His nose twitched and he took a step closer to her. “Oh yeah, and are you one of the ‘good guys’?”

“Yes.” She said through her teeth.

“Now, see,” Chuck paused, now only about five feet in front of her, “you don’t get to decide that, do you?”

“You don’t get to decide everything.” She snapped. “I’m living proof of that.”

He leapt forwards, grabbing her by the collar of her over-shirt. She made a small noise of surprise and protest, but silenced herself quickly.

“Actually,” Chuck whispered angrily at her, “I do.”

With that, he knocked her in the face with his forehead. There was a pulse when he did it, like some kind of energy that everyone could almost hear and feel, but was too subtle to be sure of. Chuck let go of her, and she crumpled to the floor. Standing over her, he lifted her upper-body off the ground by the front of her shirt. Her head almost lolled back, but she forced it to stay level, no matter how dizzy it made her.

“What did my sister tell you, hm?” Chuck began, “That I’m the monster?”

“No.” Ren spat some more blood out of her mouth, “I already knew that.”

He raised a fist, slamming it into her cheek. An involuntary groan of pain escaped her, and then she locked it up, returning her gaze to his eyes as he continued. Jack frowned—he could’ve sworn her felt a wave of energy when Chuck hit Ren again, but it was hard for him to tell if he was imagining it.

“You should’ve just let yourself drown in the Pacific, kid!” Chuck menaced before punching the side of her face again. “You think you can come and kill me?!”

Chuck switched hands to hit her again. Sam winced, a pained look on his face. Now, Jack was becoming more and more sure that there was a wave of some kind of energy or magic with every one of Chuck’s hits.

“You think that you’re more powerful than me and my sister combined?!” Chuck bellowed into Ren’s face.

She spat blood out into his face. “That’s… power you…” She tried to speak clearly, but it was slurred, “…power you stole!”

“Yeah, well it’s power that can hurt you.” Chuck smiled sadistically, then the lights flickered.

A darkness was coming, rolling over the land in waves. Ren could feel it in her chest—in her bones. Chuck shoved her to the ground, where she coughed, spitting out more blood.

“You see,” Chuck began to pace idly, a cocky air about him, “it took me some time to think of a way around the little firewall my sister put around you—it really had me nervous for a minute there—but then I realized that, although she’d been pretty specific when she turned you into an abomination, she’d forgotten to add a clause that protected you from her.”

Through the vents came clouds of depthless black—the closest Ren could come to describing it would be “smoke”, but it was too dark, too deep and yet so empty all at once to be just smoke. Her heartbeat rose in her chest, and for the first time in a while, she lost the security blanket that was thinking she wouldn’t die by Chuck’s hand.

Chuck held his arms out beside him, and the darkness tumbled towards her. Ren raised a hand instinctively to shield her face, and squeezed her eyes shut. For a long moment, she waited, then she realized that nothing was happening. She opened her eyes carefully to see the darkness hovering in front of her, still reaching into the Bunker through the vents. It was frozen, inches from her face, like it was waiting on some kind of command. It moved in, through, around, and over itself, but did not come any closer. Slowly, her dizzy and throbbing head forced her to tune into what Chuck was saying.

“…what the hell are you talking about?!” Chuck bellowed, talking like he was on a bluetooth. “You—UGH!” He groaned, rolling his eyes and listening to whoever was on the other end.

Ren’s eyes moved back, almost of their own volition, to the darkness in front of her. Dean was currently formulating a plan of escape while he struggled violently against the force holding him still. Sam was frozen, staring at Ren in concerned awe. She seemed to be mesmerized by something she saw in that darkness—something that he could not see. At the other end of the room, Jack didn’t look well. He was a bit sweaty and he was paler than a sheet, but otherwise still.

“Alright, fine!” Chuck shouted, before he turned back to them.

The darkness retreated much faster than it had arrived, and for seemingly no reason. Ren crumpled to the ground again, as though the darkness had taken with it the last of her energy. Jack finally let out a breath he’d been holding, the color returning to his face as soon as the darkness was gone.

Straightening his coat with a little huff of indignation, Chuck walked back into the library. “Now… where were we?”

Ren was dizzy and sore, and she couldn’t think straight, despite the imminent threat of violence walking towards her. Jack struggled against the invisible restraints, his eyes filled with fear for her. She tried to sit up all way, when her head grew too heavy. She began to loll backwards from sheer weakness, as Chuck grabbed a fistful of her hair. She was less in control of herself now, so the pitiful noise of pain and fear she made was horrifyingly audible. When he heard it, Jack’s teeth clenched, and everything in his being burned with anger.

With a deep scowl, he began to push at his restraints with a new energy, pressing his hands out in front of him. Chuck felt this, and turned to look over his shoulder at Jack. He sighed dramatically, then shoved Ren’s head away, making her fall to the floor in a heap.

“You want me to send you back to the Empty, kid?” Chuck asked, waltzing over towards his grandson.

Suddenly, Jack let out a wordless cry of fury, pushing with all of his might. Sam and Dean both turned to look at him as he inched a foot forwards, away from the cement pillar. Jack’s face was scrunched up as he focused. Then, there was a loud bang! and Chuck was sent flying into the far bookcase, while Jack fell against the wall for support. He was breathing hard, and his head was bowed, and although he seemed overall okay, Chuck was already back up on his feet, ready for more.

“Jack?!” Sam found himself calling, surprised that he could suddenly talk.

Slowly, Jack’s head rose, his irises glowing amber. Chuck laughed cockily.

“You really want to try this, Jack?” He grew a little grumpy as he added, “I’m God!”

“We’re all well aware, Chuck!” Dean snapped.

“You shut your mouth.” Chuck spun on Dean menacingly. Before Dean could respond, Jack moved.

“You won’t—” He took a step towards Chuck, and then his glowing eyes flickered. It was all over now—Chuck knew he was bluffing.

“Oh, I won’t what?” Chuck asked pointedly, “Destroy everything you care about and start this show all over again?” He leaned a bit closer to Jack. “Watch me.” He raised his hand, poised to snap, “Have fun in the Empty.”

Jack’s eyes widened in fear and God snapped his fingers. There was a pause, and then nothing happened. Chuck’s face betrayed the surprise he felt.

A rattling interrupted them. Everyone turned to see the switchblade Lucifer had dropped skidding across the floor quickly to Ren. Jack, while Chuck was not looking, was overcome by another wave of fatigue. Ren caught the knife, then immediately used it to slice open her palm. Jack’s knees gently hit the floor, one at a time. With as deep of a wince as could manage through the pain any expression caused her face, Ren slammed the new wound down onto the floor.

Chuck opened his mouth to say something, then cried out almost from shock. A golden light that was so powerful Sam and Dean could not look at, surrounded Chuck. Jack, in complete awe of what he saw in the light surrounding him, was frozen, kneeling on the library’s floor, set aglow by Chuck’s essence. There was a soft noise as the cosmic vacuum sealed itself, all traces of the light disappeared, and then there was silence. Chuck was gone.

Sam and Dean were released from their invisible restraints. Jack tried to stand, but stumbled, a bit weak. Silently, the Winchesters decided to split up the responsibility of helping the two injured members of their party.

“Jack!” Sam cried, rushing over to help him from the floor.

With an incredulous frown on his face, Dean limped slowly over to stand by Ren. It was smudged now, but, much like he’d suspected, there were remnants of a blood sigil on the ground. He had never heard of any that could send away primordial beings, though. His eyes moved from the smudged symbol to where she was struggling up onto her forearms.

“Hey, hey—woah, woah, woah,” Dean said softly, helping her onto her feet.

She collapsed against one of the tables, breathing heavily. Dean let her go, then she tried to walk towards the telescope. She was too weak, but when she began to fall again, he was there to catch her by the arm and pull her back up. Behind them, Sam led Jack to the armchair, where he slumped in his seat, forehead in one hand as he caught his breath.

“Ren, ‘the hell are you doin’…?” Dean’s voice drifted off as one of her hands rose from her side.

Her body shuddered, and then she forced her eyes shut for a moment. There was a noise like stone being cut. Dean looked up to see some invisible force carving into the stone archway above the observatory. He turned back to Ren, and saw her eyes were open now, their irises glowing with a dark indigo light.

When she finished the fifth sigil, the symbols glowed like they were under a blacklight, then settled into the stone, simply becoming carvings. Dean stared at the symbols for a long moment, lips parted and brows furrowed. He turned back to her, where she was struggling to keep herself up.

“C’mere, kid.” He said softly, pulling her arm over his shoulders. She groaned in response and also from pain, then they began shuffling towards the infirmary.

“Your side…” She began breathlessly as they walked into the war room.

“I’m fine, Ren.” Dean replied off-handedly, though his face was throbbing. Behind them, Sam and Jack followed.

Progress was slow, but eventually they were all in the infirmary, Sam playing doctor once again. Ren lay on one bed, just barely conscious. Jack sat on the bed beside it, leaning to peer around Sam who was bent over Ren, cleaning her face. Across the bed from Sam, Dean, having already addressed his own wounds, stood with his arms crossed, looking down at Ren with an unreadable expression.

“What if he comes back?” Jack asked softly.

Dean’s eyes flickered over to look at Sam’s. They were about to try and formulate some plan, when Ren forced a bleary sentence out.

“He… he can’t.” She swallowed thickly, one of her eyes now swelling up so much that it was hard to open, “Sigils.”

Sam frowned at her, and opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question when she spoke again.

“Sleep.” She muttered, “Now… I’m sleeping… now…”

“What? Wait, Ren—?” Sam spluttered, but then she was clearly passed out, her whole body limp. He closed his mouth firmly, a small grouchy expression on his face. His eyes rose to Dean, who was frowning down at Ren with equal confusion.

[raspberry-starship]

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FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION LEBANON, KANSAS 9:55 AM

Sam had been sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast that morning when Dean had appeared, fully-dressed for the first time in over two weeks. He had gotten some coffee and told Sam that he wanted to go for a drive. Sam jumped at the opportunity, thinking that maybe Dean was ready to talk about… things.

It was silent for a long while, but they were used to silence. As they turned onto a larger street, Dean paused at a stop sign, looking both way and then merged, out of habit. Sam watched him, wondering how they would get on without so much of the things they were used to having—things he felt like they’d taken advantage of before.

“You know what I miss about civilization?” Sam took a casual tone.

“Your flourishing social life?” Dean replied sarcastically.

Sam shot him a look, then faced forwards again. “No. Someone to tell me what the weather’s going to be like.”

Dean frowned, “Does it matter?

Sam watched his brother’s profile for a moment. “It matters if you go outside.”

Dean glanced over at him, meeting his gaze. With a sigh, he faced forwards again, setting his face in stone stubbornly. “So, this is the part where you tell me you’re worried about me, right?”

Sam sighed, nodding slowly. “Well. How are you doing with everything?”

“I’m fine.” Dean replied immediately.

Sam rolled his eyes, but tried to be subtle about it. “You never really told me what happened back there, Dean.”

“Back where?”

“While Jack and I were at the farm.” Sam said, remarkably patient-sounding for someone who had been trying to get information out of his brother for weeks now—anyone else, who had not spent a lifetime dealing with Dean Winchester would be long-past the end of their rope at this point.

“Yeah I did. The Shadow happened.” Dean closed his mouth for a moment, wetting his palette. “It came and took Cas.”

Sam waited for him to explain further, then prompted gently. “Just came and took him?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t know why.”

“No.”

Sam waited to see if that was really all he was going to get. When he realized that it was, he began weighing his options. Would it be worth it to push further, when it might mean that they would start arguing again? He decided that he was too sick of not knowing how to help Dean, and just went for it—better to do it now, when he was in the best mood Sam had seen since the extermination.

“Well, Jack told me something that might explain why.” Sam said carefully, watching Dean’s face for a reaction.

Dean glanced sideways at Sam, then back at the road. He cleared his throat casually. “What’s that?”

Sam restrained himself from rolling his eyes again—Dean was really going to make him scratch tooth-and-nail for the answers. “Jack said that Cas made a deal with the Empty. When Jack was in heaven. He said that Cas asked it to take him in Jack’s place.”

Dean nodded slowly, eyes still trained on the road. He was acting like this was just news to him—like he was ambivalent about the whole situation.

“Did Cas ever mention that to you?” Sam prodded further.

Dean shook his head firmly. “Nope.” He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head slowly, “No, but it sounds just like the kind of half-baked, bonehead move he’d pull.”

Sam looked at him. “Yeah. Maybe.” He paused for a moment, still watching Dean’s profile. “He’s come back from the Empty once before.” He said tentatively, hoping Dean would catch his drift.

“There’s no coming back from this. Not this time.” Dean replied, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel.

“What makes you say that?”

Dean sighed—it was the most animated he’d been throughout this whole exchange. “It’s the Empty, Sam. Not even Chuck has power there.”

Sam let out a little huff in aggravation, and settled back into his seat. He thought for a long moment, the two of them sitting in silence beside one another as music played softly from the stereo. He decided to switch topics.

“Jack’s having a hard time.”

“I know.” Dean’s voice softened a bit, clearly feeling sympathetic.

“I think it would help if you talked to him. Might help you both.” Carefully, he glanced over at Dean.

His brother took a moment to think before he replied, voice even and unemotional. “I’m fine, Sam.”

“Fine. You’re fine. But Jack…” Sam sighed, “I mean we, we never even had a funeral for Cas. Maybe we should have one for him—”

“—No. No. There’s no point.” Dean replied adamantly, “I mean, it’s not like we have a body to burn. He’s gone, Sam, that’s that. We don’t have time for this crap.”

“Time? We’ve got nothing but time, Dean!” Sam was beginning to get visibly annoyed now, “And, by the way, the reason we aren’t getting anywhere with our plan is because you’re not helping us! We’re supposed to be a team! But it feels like you’ve just given up!”

“All right, how about you lay off, Sam?” Dean snapped, “Sorry I haven’t been the best study buddy for you two, but if you think—”

Suddenly, Dean was interrupted by a scream coming from outside. His foot slammed on the brakes. Both Sam and Dean rocked forwards and then back with the car, then turned in-sync to see what made the noise. Beside the car, there was a large field, bordered by a forest. A woman in her mid-thirties sprinted out of the woods, screaming. Right on her tail, there was a giant man in a dark coat, needle-like teeth bared under the sunny sky.

“Help!” The woman screamed.

Dean and Sam both were out of the car before she finished screaming the word. Dean moved to go right into the fray, when Sam called his attention.

“Dean! The keys!” He raised a hand, catching them easily as Dean threw them over the length of the car.

Dean sprinted across the road, jumping over the ditch, and then the low fence at the edge of the field. Sam hastily opened the trunk and then the trapdoor. He searched around desperately for the right weapon.

Dean barreled towards the running woman. Within moments, he was passing her, going straight for the vampire, and tackling its midsection. They both tumbled to the ground. Back at the car, Sam finally grabbed two machetes, and turned to run after his brother, not even bothering to shut the trunk. He stopped as the woman approached him. In the field, Dean was grappling with the snarling vampire on the ground.

The vampire was burly, and Dean wouldn’t be able to hold him for much longer. He called out over his shoulder, “Sam!”

The vampire jerked violently, almost making Dean lose his grip. He growled and then pinned it by the throat. The vampire snarled and sputtered up at him.

“Any day now, Sammy!” Dean shouted, a bit louder this time.

Back at the car, blades in hand, Sam ushered the weeping woman into the backseat. He glanced up over her head, anxiety filling him as he watched Dean trying to keep the creature subdued. Without waiting for her to tell him she was okay, he sprinted after his brother.

The vampire managed to knock Dean’s arms away from his throat. He flipped them over, beginning to choke Dean.

“Get the hell off me, you son of a bitch—!” Dean struggled to speak, the vampire’s grip tightening enough that he couldn’t finish his sentence.

Dean kicked one of the vampire’s knees. The creature stumbled, its grip on Dean’s throat loosening ever so slightly. Dean rolled out from under the vampire, pulling its arm around behind it. The creature cried out in pain, kneeling in the field and immobilized—at least momentarily.

“Dean!” Sam tossed his brother a machete.

Dean caught it by the handle easily, then swung it through the air, chopping the vampire’s head off in one, fluid movement. The creature fell limply to the ground, its head rolling a couple feet to the side. With his chest heaving, he turned to look at Sam, a bit of an annoyed expression on his face.

“Took you long enough.”

Sam gave him a flat look, then they both settled. Their eyes wandered simultaneously to the dead body lying between them, both beginning to frown.

“How is this… possible?” Sam finally asked, looking up at his brother for some kind of wisdom.

Dean shrugged, quirking a brow. He sighed, still a bit out of breath, going to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“This thing shouldn’t have been alive at all.” Sam continued, exceedingly confused. He glanced up from the body back to Dean. “We might have just killed one fifth of the life left on earth.”

Dean winced at that—he didn’t like the idea that they were still sharing the Earth with monsters. Without another word, they turned and walked back towards the car. The woman, who was a strawberry-blonde with deep hazel eyes and a petite frame, was sitting in the backseat, trembling horribly.

Dean reached the car first, cocking his head slightly at her. Together, he and Sam came to a halt beside the double-yellow line, frowning at her. She immediately began speaking, breathless.

“Thank God you found me. I can’t thank you enough for saving me—” The words came tumbling out of her mouth all at once, but she was silenced by Dean raising a hand to tell her that it was alright. Without a word, he moved to put the blades back in the trunk.

Sam walked over, his hands in his pockets. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded vigorously, “Just shaking from the adrenaline.”

“He didn’t scratch you or anything?”

She shook her head, one leg bouncing against the edge of the Impala, making the car shake slightly.

“That’s good. What’s your name?” He asked gently. At the back of the Impala, Dean slammed the trunk shut, making her jump slightly.

“Amelia.” She replied, crossing her arms and hunching over herself a bit.

Sam’s brow twitched at that name, but quickly recovered. “Well, it’s, uh, nice to meet you, Amelia. My name is Sam, and this is my brother, Dean.”

Dean nodded, sliding into the driver’s seat and turning on the car. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Howdy.”

Amelia continued talking as Sam shut her door and took his seat in front of her.

“I can’t believe you guys found me. I’ve been alone for… I don’t know how long. Weeks. When that thing showed up, I thought I was a goner for sure. I feel so… lucky.”

Sam smiled weakly, looking back at her briefly as the car began to pull forwards again. “We’re glad we found you.”

As they drove back to the Bunker, she told them her story. “I was in a car accident. I don’t know how long ago. All I know is I woke up in the hospital. Completely alone. I think they were giving me drugs to keep me asleep, but the drugs must have run out. I woke up and… It was so strange. There was… nobody. It was just… empty.”

“What about your injuries?” Sam asked, his eyes on the road in front of them.

“I…” She shook her head, lacking any explanation. “…I don’t seem to have any. I don’t know how long I was asleep. I think my hair grew. So it must have been… months.”

Sam glanced back at her. “Do you have any scars?”

She shook her head again, and he faced forwards once more. He and Dean shared a guarded glance.

“Angels?” Sam asked softly.

Dean frowned, seeming unconvinced of this option.

“I can’t think of anything else with that kind of healing power. It might also explain why she’s… here.” Sam suggested, though he didn’t seem very sure of the idea either.

“How?”

Sam shrugged, “Maybe she’s got some sort of protection spell or sigil on her.”

“That protects against Chuck?” Dean glanced over at him, brows furrowed skeptically, “We’ve never seen anything that can protect against Chuck like that.”

Sam looked back at Amelia. She had her arms wrapped around herself, as she stared out the window at all the dead cars.

“Well maybe we’ve finally found something.” He said softly, daring to hope. He let out a long, tired breath, “Maybe Jack will be able to tell what’s up with her.”

Amelia spoke up from the backseat. “What’s ‘up’ with me?”

“We don’t even know if he’s got the juice for that, Sam.” Dean commented quietly, speaking about Jack, before they addressed Amelia’s question.

Sam made a guilty grimace at the road.

“What do you mean ‘what’s up with me’?” She probed further.

“Well, no offense, Amelia, but you aren’t really supposed to exist right now.” Dean replied, a bit gruffer than he’d really meant it to be, but he was too grumpy in general to rein himself in.

“Dean.” Sam chastised softly.

“What?” Amelia frowned for a moment, then the expression melted off her face as an idea dawned upon her. “You guys know what happened to everyone, don’t you?”

Sam swallowed tensely. “Yes. But it’s… it’s hard to explain.”

Dean took over then. “You a religious person at all, Amelia?”

She shrugged. “I was raised protestant.”

“Great.” Dean nodded once, “Then I’ll give you the short version: God is real, and he’s a dick. He disappeared every living thing on Earth, except for us.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, unsure of what to say. Shaking her head to clear it, she finally asked: “What?”

“Well, everything except for us and—” He glanced back at her for a split second in the rearview mirror, “—and you.”

She was quiet for a moment, then she began talking to herself. “I’m still dreaming. I knew it. I’m in a permanent coma.”

Dean looked over at Sam, his expression flat. “She’s taking it well.” He commented softly.

Sam sighed, giving him an annoyed face, before he went to comfort their new companion. “Amelia, I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in.”

She let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah. A little bit.”

The Impala was left in silence after that. There was the occasional sniff from the backseat, where Dean and Sam assumed Amelia was crying. There wasn’t much else they could do to help her.

On the opposite side of Lebanon, an old pickup truck was weaving its way slowly through the increasing number of vehicles blocking the road. Ren, behind the wheel, was focused on her task, until she noticed an unfamiliar warmth against the bare skin of her stomach. She frowned, and peered down into her shirt. The necklace Zophiel had given her was there, just how she’d left it. She barely even noticed the thing anymore, but it was strange—the metal had never gotten warm, not even in the Nevada sun. She pulled it out of her collar, letting it rest on the tank top she wore beneath her button-down, so there was a barrier between it and her skin, and then returned her focus to moving around the maze of cars littering the street.

When the Impala arrived back at the Bunker, there was still a kind of tense quiet surrounding Sam, Dean and Amelia. She commented on the Bunker’s beauty as they walked her in, and then gave no protest to going to the kitchen. Dean asked her multiple times if she was sure that she had no injuries they needed to look at, and when she insisted that she was fine, he relented. All she requested was some tea, which Sam was happy to make for her.

“…And everyone just vanished?” She asked, glancing up from Dean, who sat across the table from her. Across the room, Sam pulled the whistling kettle off the stovetop.

“Yup.” Dean nodded stoutly.

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Chuck for you.”

Amelia looked mildly confused.

“God.” He clarified, “He goes by ‘Chuck’ nowadays.”

“Huh.” Amelia frowned, but said nothing else.

Sam appeared then, putting down a cup of tea in front of her. “Here. Let it steep for a couple minutes.”

Amelia smiled sweetly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug, and thanking him softly. He nodded, and then went to retrieve the two other mugs he’d prepared. Setting them down beside her, he glanced up at Dean. Dean turned his gaze back to Amelia.

“So what have you been up to, since you woke up, Amelia? You said it’s been a few weeks?”

She shrugged, “Wandering around, mostly.”

“And in all that time, you didn’t see anyone else?” Dean asked, ignoring the look Sam gave him in response.

“No. Nobody.” She shook her head. “Except for the uh… thing that was chasing me.”

Sam and Dean both nodded to themselves, thinking for a moment.

“Dean, have you seen Jack?” Sam piped up casually.

“No.”

“Do you think maybe you could get him? So he can—?” He jerked his head sideways, towards Amelia, then continued, “—drink this tea I made him?”

Dean straightened in his seat. “And here I was thinking you made that for me.”

Amelia smiled weakly at that, before Dean stood. He rapped his knuckles gently on the table as he moved from his seat.

“I’ll go find him.”

Dean left them in a mildly awkward silence, then Sam broke it.

“Oh, I forgot—” He stood, “How do you take your tea? Milk, cream, sugar?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

He frowned sympathetically, unsure of how to help. He continued moving to the fridge. “Well, we’ve still got some half-and-half, milk, and a tiny bit of soy milk.” He opened the half-and-half and sniffed it, then gives a wince of disgust. “Actually, scratch that on the half-and-half.”

He straightened, and shut the door. He stopped short, the soy milk in one hand, when he saw that Amelia was standing right beside him, where the refrigerator door would have blocked her from his view. He swallowed thickly, trying not to seem too startled.

“It seems like your brother doesn’t trust me.” She said, voice small and body language coy.

“Uh, well,” Sam let out a soft, humorless chuckle, “Dean’s not the most… naturally trusting person.” He held up the soy milk. “Want to try some?”

Amelia smiled and offered up her mug. Sam poured a small amount of soy milk into it, waiting for her to say “when”.

“So,” Sam began casually, moving to put the last of the soy milk back in the fridge, “while you were wandering, what did you do for food?”

Amelia shrugged a shoulder, bobbing the tea bag up and down in her mug. “Whatever I could find. Grocery stores were all still stocked, so it seemed like…” She trailed off, looking down at the mug in her hands.

“What?” Sam asked gently.

“Well, after a few days, I figured, it was one of two things. If the stores were all stocked, then whatever happened, it must have taken everyone by surprise. Which means it happened quickly. Really quickly. So it had to be something efficient, and lethal—maybe some kind of pathogen, and or something that decomposed the bodies fast. Or, maybe, it was something that made people do it to themselves. They all went somewhere specific, all at once. Maybe to drown themselves in the ocean. Maybe off a cliff like lemmings.”

As Amelia spoke, she took a little step closer to Sam, her head still bowed. Sam frowned down at her, his sad expression tinged with a growing concern, and his body shrinking back ever so slightly.

“Or… option B.” She said slowly.

Sam let out a nervous laugh. “That was only option A?”

Amelia nodded, finally looking up at him. “Option B was that I died, and went to hell. And this was hell.”

Sam’s frown deepened, unsure of what she meant.

“That would be hell for me.” She explained softly, “Abandoned. Trapped. Alone.”

Sam’s expression softened sympathetically, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Amelia smiled up at him, then down at her tea. “Yeah. Not anymore.”

Sam smiled, tension broken, and dropped his hand from her, though they were still standing close together. “Listen, if you want to get changed into something that’s a little, uh…”

“…Not covered in dirt?” She suggested good-naturedly.

Sam let out a small laugh at that. “Yeah. If you’d like, I have some extra clothes around.”

She smirked, giving him a once-over with her eyes. “I’m not sure you’re my size.”

Sam swallowed, trying to stay cheerful. “No, I’ve got some extra—” He stopped as Jack walked into the room, shuffling to a halt in the doorway.

“Sam, I—” He paused, noticing Amelia, who still stood with her back to him. Slowly, she turned, and the expression melted right off of Jack’s face. “—Oh, no.”

Sam frowned in confusion. “Jack?”

Amelia looked back up at Sam.

“No, go on. Tell me.” She took a mockingly vulnerable voice, “I’m so cold and in shock, Sam. Do you have some of Sadie’s old clothes you could lend me?”

Sam shuffled away from her, a horrified look on his face. “What?”

Her face shifted, and she morphed into a familiar figure—Lucifer, wearing Nick’s visage. He grinned, showing all of his teeth. “Heya, Sammy.”

All of the color drained from Sam’s face. Breathlessly, he could only manage, “You.”

Lucifer smirked, “Always, baby.”

He raised a hand, palm facing Sam. Suddenly, Sam’s chest felt like a rock—like his lungs could not expand or contract. He began to choke.

“No!” Jack yelled, reaching out towards Lucifer. The nothing that happened was a disheartening one.

Sam’s back hit the shelving where they kept their non-perishables on the far wall, knocking cereal and peanut butter off onto the floor. Lucifer glanced over at Jack, feigning sympathy.

“Oh, I’m sorry, kiddo, but looks like you’ve got no gas in the tank!” Lucifer mocked, turning his attention back to Sam.

“Stop!” Jack cried, running towards Lucifer.

“Ah-bah-bap!” Lucifer raised a hand, waving it dismissively. Jack went flying backwards into the hall, smashing into the tiled wall.

Dean appeared at one end of the corridor, seeing Jack’s crumpled body laying outside the kitchen. He sprinted towards Jack, immediately helping him up.

“What the hell—?” He began when Jack shook his head, pointing into the kitchen.

“Lucifer!” Jack managed, still hunched over a bit in pain.

“You know, Sam, you just make it too easy!” Lucifer grinned, walking closer to Sam.

Sam’s large hands went to paw uselessly at his collarbone, trying to get the invisible force choking him to release its grip.

“All I have to do is play into that nasty little savior kink of yours, and suddenly, I’m in!” Lucifer paused, glancing over to the doorway as Dean and Jack appeared.

Dean raised his gun, pointing at Lucifer.

“Oh, come on, Dean!” Lucifer feigned disappointment. “Haven’t we been down this road before?”

“Let him go!” Jack said.

“Kiddo, do you mind?” Lucifer turned to Jack, “The grown-ups are trying to have a conversation, okey?”

Jack raised a hand once more. An invisible force yanked him away from Dean and into the wall above the kitchen table. He tumbled limply to the ground.

Dean pulled the trigger. Lucifer turned to look at him, and the bullet froze in mid-air, about a foot from his forehead. Lucifer cocked his head at Dean, a flat look on his face.

“Really, Dean?” He then glanced over to where Jack was struggling to sit up. “Son, just stay down.”

“I am not your son.” Jack said through his teeth, stumbling slightly as he got to his feet. Lucifer gave him a mocking pout.

“Oh that’s right! Castiel’s your daddy, right?” He narrowed his eyes, “How’s that working out for you?”

The room was filled with the bangs of five bullets being shot in quick succession. They all came to a halt beside the first one, in the air near the kitchen island. Slowly, Lucifer turned to give Dean a flat look of annoyance. All the bullets fell, each making a gentle plink! as they hit the tiled floor. Finally, his attention was removed from Sam, who was allowed to slump to the floor, gasping for breath.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to give my condolences to the grieving widow!” Lucifer mocked, stepping over the bullets towards Dean. “Still just pulling the trigger first and asking questions later—which, you know, I do love consistency!—but really: do you know how to do anything else?”

“Shut up.” Dean said through his teeth.

“No, no, you’re right,” Lucifer nodded, feigning solemnity, “this is a time for remembrance, right? Well, when I was sharing accommodations with the lovely Castiel, we got to know each other real well—”

“—You shut your goddamn mouth.” Dean took a step forwards.

“Or what?” Lucifer raised his brows, “You’ll shoot me again?”

“Are you just here to torment us?” Sam choked out, still trying to recover.

“No, no.” Lucifer smiled with mock reassurance, “Not just to torment you. I’m here to kill you all, too.”

There was a brief silence in the room as they all took this in.

“And then I’m going to take the book you stole.” Lucifer shrugged, speaking as though this were an afterthought. “Deal’s a deal sadly, and dad said he’d bring me back to life if I got him the book, so…” Lucifer shrugged again, smiling like a mischievous little kid, “I had to get out of the Empty—it really blows there.”

“God’s book?” Sam asked, finally struggling to his feet.

Lucifer nodded, “Bingo.”

Dean and Sam both began scrambling internally for some kind of plan.

“Dad was even nice enough to uh,” Lucifer pointed to his un-scarred cheek, “fix up the ‘ol meat-suit after what your GF did to it. How is she, by the way? Dead, right?”

Sam’s brow twitched, frowning in a mix of anger and hurt.

“Ah!” Lucifer gave a satisfied sigh, “I love to hear it. The world’s much better off without that giantess around, I’ll say that.”

Jack suddenly let out a wordless cry of anger. Lucifer stumbled slightly, as though a strong wind was pressing into him. They all turned to look at Jack. His eyes dimmed, but they had been glowing amber for a moment there. Sam grabbed a knife out of the butcher’s block beside him.

“Oh, kid, you’re gonna get it now—” Lucifer raised his fingers to snap, when Sam appeared, cutting the hand clean off.

In the moment of distraction, Dean took another shot at Lucifer, landing a bullet right between his eyes. Sam dropped the knife and quickly moved back towards Jack.

For a moment, they were all still, as Lucifer’s head straightened. He gave Dean another flat look, and the wound in his forehead began to heal itself. Jack’s hand flew up, and the whole kitchen island scraped across the floor, pinning Lucifer to the stove. Sam and Dean both looked down at Jack in awe. The light in his eyes was flickering, but he was managing to hold Lucifer down.

“You can’t keep this up forever, buddy!” Lucifer managed, voice strained from being trapped, “My hand’s gonna heal all the way pretty soon and we both know you haven’t got it in you for this fight!”

Jack shuddered, face wrinkled as he concentrated. Sam and Dean knew that Lucifer was right. Dean stowed his gun.

“Run.” He said.

Sam grabbed Jack’s arm and did just that. As soon as Jack’s eyes left Lucifer, the pressure was released. Dean turned to chase after them. In the kitchen, the island scraped all the way across the room as Lucifer pushed it off. He let out a groan, cracking his neck from side-to-side. With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, he started making his way after his prey, his pace unhurried.

“You can’t escape me forever, boys!” He called, waltzing down the corridor. “There’s nowhere else to go!”

On the lower level, Sam skidded around a corner, then sprinted towards 7B. He fumbled with the handle but got it open, ushering Jack inside. He stepped in and then turned, calling out to his brother.

“Dean!” He hissed, poking his head out into the hall.

Dean appeared, walking backwards with his gun out again, and waiting for Lucifer to appear. He glanced over Sam when he called out his name, then the color drained from his face. Sam frowned, but decided that he had bigger fish to fry than ask what was wrong.

“Come on!” Sam shouted at a whisper.

Dean swallowed, frozen for a moment. A bang! on the level above made them all jump. He moved quickly towards the door, and then stopped again. Sam frowned at him incredulously.

“Dean, come on!” He insisted.

Dean swallowed, staring into the room behind Jack and Sam. The back wall was completely solid now, but the last time Dean had been in this room, it had opened up into the Empty. His mind flashed back to the tears on Cas’s face, and everything seemed to stop around him.

A heavy footfall awoke him from his daze. He turned to his right, seeing Lucifer standing there, one hand on the doorway.

“Hiya, Dean.” Lucifer smirked.

Dean’s eyes widened. Without a second thought, he yanked the door to 7B closed, trapping Sam and Jack in the safety of the room and offering himself up as a distraction.

“NO!” Sam bellowed, slamming a fist into the door. On the other side, he heard Dean call out to Lucifer.

“You want some, you son of a bitch?!” He raised his hands out on either side of him, “Come and get it!”

Jack stood slumped against a row of shelves behind Sam, a panicked look on his face. Sam locked the deadbolt into the room then turned on his heel, surveilling what he had available to him. His chest heaved with every breath, and his eyes were wide, as he tried to force himself to think.

“We—” Sam stopped, running a hand through his hair, “—there’s gotta be something in here we can use.”

Jack nodded quickly, moving to look through the shelving he’d been leaning on. Sam glanced around, then noticed a piece of chalk laying out. He grabbed it and began to ward the door properly, including the sigil he knew would keep Lucifer from listening in on them.

Outside, Dean was continuing to keep Lucifer busy. He was just trying to waste as much time as possible, until Sam came up with something from the storage room. He ran up the stairs to the first floor again, looking back and forth before deciding to sprint towards the library. He burst in through the door, breathing heavily.

“Hey.” A sultry voice said beside him.

Dean jumped, turning to see Lucifer there, leaning against a bookcase.

“You come here often?” Lucifer asked.

Dean moved to raise his gun again.

“Ah-ah!” Lucifer waved his hand and the gun went flying away, far out of reach. “You’d think you’d’a learned your lesson by now!”

Dean’s lip curled and he took a step towards Lucifer. An invisible force plucked him off the ground, and sent him into the cement wall. With a groan, he flopped to the floor. He was picked up again, and shoved onto one of the library desks. The books Sam had left out and the lamp hit the floor with a loud crash! Dean struggled against his invisible restraints, laying face-up on the center of the table with his arms and legs spread.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Lucifer sighed, wandering over to him, “Always so quick to make the pointless sacrifices.”

Dean tried harder to get free, his face growing red from fury and effort.

“You know I’m just going to get them later!” Lucifer bent down, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “This—this whole thing we’re doing right now—is going to mean nothing, because I’m just going to kill you, and then go and kill your brother, then the kid you stole from me!”

Dean stilled, realizing that he ought to save his energy.

“Although, I would’ve really liked to kill you in front of Sammy…” Lucifer reached around to Dean’s pocket, pulling out the one of his switchblades he kept there. “I’ll settle for showing him later. For now, Dean, you’re all mine.”

Dean swallowed, watching as Lucifer flicked the knife open. A wicked grin spread across his face.

“This is gonna be fun.” He said.

The muscle on Dean’s jaw jutted out as he clenched his teeth. He settled, turning his head to look up at the ceiling, seemingly resigned to his fate.

“You know, dad got me all caught up on what you’ve been up to!” Lucifer dragged the knife up Dean’s bare arm, teasing him. “I heard about Mary.” He gave a mocking pout, “I’m gonna miss that little minx—your mother was quite the character!”

“Shut up.” Dean couldn’t stop himself from growling.

“And, he said that my own son was the one who did it!” Lucifer poked the tip of the knife into the fleshy part of Dean’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s got more of me in him than you originally thought!”

Dean rolled his eyes. Lucifer pushed the knife in, breaking the skin. Dean took a sharp breath in through his nose.

“And then, he told me all about Castiel.” Lucifer annunciated the name, leaning closer to Dean’s ear. Dean leaned away instinctively, a wince on his face. “You were really surprised by what he said?”

Dean began to struggle again, so Lucifer shoved the knife all the way in. Dean groaned in pain, closing his eyes for a moment. Lucifer straightened, surveilling the room.

“I mean, I know because I lived in him, but even before that!” Lucifer meandered over towards a scimitar that sat on top of a bookcase. “He’s been doing all kinds of stuff for you for years, and you were—are!—so repressed that you wouldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility!”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to overcome the rush of emotions he was feeling as he continued to struggle.

“And you know that, don’t you?”

Lucifer glanced back at Dean for a moment, who said nothing. A smirk curved Lucifer’s lips.

“Ah, Dean…” He sighed, picking up the scimitar and testing the edge with his thumb, “If it weren’t for me, that guilt of yours would be the thing to kill you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, well, better to feel guilty than not feel anything at all.” Dean spat through his clenched teeth. Lucifer actually laughed at that, then looked back to Dean.

“That’s adorable, Dean, really it is.” He began to wander back over to his prisoner, “And you know, despite what you may have heard, I do love to see character development.”

Dean struggled harder as Lucifer drew closer.

“See it in others.” Lucifer clarified, cocking his head as he examined his prey, “I’m good the way I am.”

Dean’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “So, what? You’re just gonna go back to being Chuck’s attack-dog, even after everything he did to you?” Dean shook his head, “Nice job sticking to your guns.”

“Oh, Dean.” Lucifer yanked the knife out of his shoulder, making Dean shout in pain. “You know that he’s next on my list when I’m done here! He was my ticket back, and now,” He leaned closer to Dean’s ear, “I’m going to make this world mine.”

Dean let out a breathless laugh at that. Lucifer straightened, beginning to pace around Dean’s body, holding the scimitar and trying to decide where he would cut first.

“You’re just playing into his hands.” Dean shook his head.

Lucifer’s fist shot out and slammed into Dean’s cheek.

“You are!” Dean panted, straightening again, a bit of blood oozing out over his lip. “You’re just daddy’s little pawn.”

Lucifer’s nose twitched, and he had the urge to say: “I know you are, but what am I?”

“Just doing exactly what he wants.” Dean laughed humorlessly, knowing what he was about to say would sting. “You’re just as bad as Michael! A rebel? My ass.”

Lucifer slammed the scimitar down onto the table beside Dean. In a blink, Lucifer teleported to be standing on the table above Dean. He grabbed Dean’s collar in both hands, heaving him up into a sitting position.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He spat, before raising one fist to punch Dean in the nose.

Dean’s head lolled back, then Lucifer shook him until he was upright again.

“You’re a miserable little maggot, Dean Winchester.” Lucifer said, voice low and nose close to Dean’s. “And I am going to have fun crushing you under. my. shoe.”

With that, he raised his hand again, and punched Dean’s cheek. He switched hands, knocking Dean back the other way. Soon, an invisible force was keeping Dean up and restrained, while both of Lucifer’s fists were occupied with pummeling his face.

Dean could not process anything, not even the pain he was surely supposed to be feeling. All he could hear were the sounds of Lucifer’s continued taunting, fists breaking skin, and his own heartbeat, loud in his ears. He could barely keep his eyes open. Suddenly, the beating stopped. Dean groaned, forcing his eyes open. Lucifer was looking over his shoulder, his fist still raised to hit Dean again. Dean strained to see what he was looking at, then his mouth slipped open in shock.

There, on the staircase, was one very disheveled Renna Toivonen. She dropped her backpack, letting it tumble down the steps without a care. Her dark scowl was fixed on Lucifer and on him alone. He straightened away from Dean, who was forced to stay in the sitting position Lucifer’s powers had put him in.

“Get away from him.” She said, voice dark and hoarse.

“And who are you, little kitten?” Lucifer grinned, waltzing slowly over to the top of the library steps.

Ren’s hand shot out, her fingers gripping the air like they were around someone’s throat. She jerked her hand up. Lucifer was thrown into the ceiling and then dropped to the floor in a heap. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. Ren hopped the banister, landing on her feet in the war room. She straightened as Lucifer did the same.

“You must be the Winchester’s other little wind-up toy!” Lucifer tried to put on a taunting front, but he stumbled ever so slightly when he moved towards her. “Do you just do everything they ask?”

“No. But I do help them when they need it.” She replied venomously, “It’s what you do for family. At least, if you’re in a family that actually loves each other. Wouldn’t expect you to know what that’s like.”

Lucifer laughed mockingly and raised a hand towards her.

“No!” Dean cried, his voice muddled slightly by the blood in his mouth and the swelling in his cheeks.

Lucifer closed his fist. Ren stayed completely still. Dean’s face contorted in confusion. She glanced casually down at herself, then lifted her head back up to look at Lucifer. A wicked smirk curved her lip. With a roll of her shoulders, she began marching towards him.

“Wha—?” Lucifer looked at her incredulously as she approached. “How.” He asked, commanding that she tell him. She grabbed his throat. Her face leaned up to speak softly to him.

“I am no one’s ‘wind-up toy’.” She menaced.

Lucifer snatched up her wrist. She winced, and he caught on. With his superior strength, he began to squeeze. She let out a cry of pain and then relented, using her mind to shove him back into the cement wall and free herself. He straightened, dusting himself off.

“I will kill you,” He wagged a finger as they began circling each other around the war table, “but first, I’ve just gotta know how you do that little trick.”

“What?” She cocked her head, “The one where you’re powers from daddy don’t work on me?” She mocked, pouting at him.

His lip curled into an almost snarl. She smirked.

“Call it a gift from your Auntie Amara.” She growled, before adding quietly, “Yet another relative that doesn’t love you.”

Lucifer would not be beaten easily in a taunting contest. “Are we gonna keep doin’ this dance forever, sweetheart? You really think a little thing like you could defeat me? I’m millions of years old, babygirl!”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head, eyes narrowed, “And you’ve made a lot of progress, in that time! Absolutely incredible work corrupting God’s creation, you really got ‘em.” She winked sarcastically.

“You and I have very different definitions of a goal timeline, okay?” Lucifer replied haughtily.

“No, you know what, you’re right.” Ren raised and dropped her hands in a conciliatory manner, before adding, “It’s not you’re fault you’re so limited. You’re just a shitty first draft, I mean, he hadn’t totally gotten it all the way down yet when he made you. That’s why you’re so one-dimensional.”

“Are you—” He narrowed his eyes incredulously, “—Are you talking about me like I’m a character in his story?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t at least considered it.” She gave a mocking pout, “You have no real motivation for doing what you do. You say it’s because you wanna hold him accountable or whatever, but what do you like outside of hurting people, lying and trying to destroy daddy’s creation? Any interests? Passions? Hobbies?”

She raised her brows pointedly, and waited a moment for an answer that didn’t come. She smiled snarkily.

“That’s what I thought. I mean, you got let out, what almost ten years ago? And you had all that time in the cage to plan, but then y’ had no contingencies? Seems like someone forgot to give you that lil’ somethin’ somethin’ that makes people effective and strategic.” She shrugged then shook her head, “Dunno ‘bout you but that sounds like an incomplete character to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked humorlessly, “I don’t give two shits what you think about me. I’m millions of years old—I have existed for a time longer than you could even conceptualize! You’re a speck of dust compared to me!”

“Well, that may be,” She stopped shuffling around, “but this eighteen-year-old speck of dust is gonna be the one to kill you.”

With that, she leapt over the war table, hands going for his throat. They tumbled to the floor, a mess of limbs. He got a foot between them, and kicked her off. She went flying into the stone steps of the library. She groaned in pain, stumbling to her feet. He stood too, shucking off his coat.

“Since you’ve got yourself a fairy god mother—literally—I guess I’ll just have to kill you the old-fashioned way.” Lucifer rolled his shoulders.

She raised her fists, waiting for him to make the first move. Behind her, Dean watched in horror, still unable to move. Beside him, the scimitar quivered slightly on the table. His eyes flickered down. It began to move.

“REN!” He bellowed, making her turn to him.

The scimitar shot off the table. She ducked down, just barely avoiding the sharp edge of the blade as it flew to Lucifer’s waiting hand. He snapped his fingers, and a slice of silver duct tape sealed Dean’s mouth shut.

“That’s quite enough out of you, Dean!” Lucifer called through gritted teeth, his eyes still trained on Ren, “Little missy and I are are kind of in the middle of something.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed, then moved from Lucifer’s face to his weapon. With a tick of her head to left, the scimitar flopped over onto itself, the blade bent into an ugly u-shape. Lucifer looked at it and sighed dramatically.

“Fine!” He dropped it with a clatter, “Have it your way!”

He disappeared. She blinked and spun, sensing his presence beside her just before he raised a hand to slam her in the chest. She shot back into one of the bookcases, before landing in a heap on the floor. Groaning in pain, she struggled to stand up again. Lucifer appeared, his hand wrapping around her throat and lifting her out of the debris. She choked, clawing at his wrist, her feet hovering a foot over the floor.

“Not so big, are you?” Lucifer taunted, smirking. “What was that you said? ‘This speck of dust is gonna be the one to kill you’?” He mocked, making her scowl.

There was a snick! that broke the silence outside of her struggling to breathe. Lucifer looked down at his chest, where there was the point of a Grigori’s blade sticking out through him. He sighed, looking up at her tiredly.

“You really think there’s a weapon in this dump that can hurt me?” Lucifer grinned, then flung her away.

Her limp body flew over Dean’s head, and slammed into the wall behind him. Dean made a noise of protest, struggling against the restraints—he couldn’t watch her die, not after everything else he’d lost.

She forced herself up into a sitting position, leaning on her shaky arms and panting heavily. Lucifer appeared beside Dean, picking up the switchblade he’d knocked onto the ground earlier. Dean’s back was slammed flat against the table again. With an unhurried step, Lucifer moved past him, towards Ren.

“It’s hard for me to decide who should watch who die,” He sighed, “I can tell it would be hard for both of you.”

Dean’s eyes went to the heap of Ren as he struggled on the table. Lucifer leaned over to rip the tape off Dean’s mouth.

“Lucky for you, Dean,” Lucifer narrowed his eyes mockingly, “it’s kind of personal between us, whereas this little pet of yours—” He glanced over at Ren as she tried to catch her breath, “—is just more of an inconvenience.”

“Don’t.” Dean said through his teeth. Lucifer grinned, leaning over Dean’s head.

“Or what?” He whispered, grinning at his prisoner.

Behind them, Ren struggled to re-orient herself. The throw to the wall had completely knocked the wind out of her. She winced suddenly at a new pain, and scrambled to pull the sword pendant out from under her over-shirt. It was white-hot. Her wince deepened, and she moved to take the necklace off. Lucifer spun on his heel to face her, distracting her from that task.

Lucifer approached slowly. Behind him, Dean was picked up into the air and then pressed against a cement column holding up the library’s ceiling, giving him a perfect view of Ren and Lucifer.

“No!” Dean cried, struggling harder against the invisible force holding him.

Ren scrambled away from Lucifer, stumbling to her feet in front of the telescope. Lucifer sighed.

“Come on, kid, give it up!” He said, “You talk a big game and you may have a couple tricks up your sleeve but you’re just too weak for this fight!”

“Fuck you.” She snapped before spitting at his feet.

“Sticks and stones, babygirl.” Lucifer cooed mockingly.

“Arrogant bastard!” She shouted, her hands shooting out to shove him away with her mind. He hit the bookcase near the far door, and she stumbled, falling to the ground in pain.

Lucifer straightened easily, practically unfazed by her attack. Ren yanked herself to her feet using the bookcase beside her and there was a loud clatter as she knocked over the blade display that lived on top of it. Lucifer laughed, beginning to meander back over to her.

“You haven’t got it in you, sweetheart!” He taunted, “Just, do us both a favor and give up!”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What? You afraid that you won’t be able to win otherwise? That you can’t beat me on skill alone?”

At that, the expression melted completely off of Lucifer’s face. Without another word, he barreled towards her. She dove out of the way, sliding across the shiny wood floor in front of Dean’s feet. Both she and Lucifer re-set. She was hunched over herself, clearly in pain.

“You and I both know I can.” Lucifer growled.

“Prove it.” She said breathlessly, trying to force herself to stand up straight.

Lucifer stepped in front of a struggling Dean, and grabbed the front of her shirt. She let out a little noise of fear, but kept a level expression as he yanked her towards him.

“Don’t—!” Dean began, but was interrupted by Lucifer flinging Ren onto a chair next to him. Wood splinters flew everywhere as the seat shattered beneath her.

Lucifer stepped closer to where Ren was trying to recover. He raised a foot and kicked her in the stomach. The force of the blow sent her skidding across the room. When she stopped sliding, she didn’t move to get up.

“NO!” Dean bellowed, fighting harder against his restraints. Lucifer smiled, and turned to look at his prisoner again.

“It’s not fun for you to watch this, is it?” Lucifer feigned sympathy, “She’s like family to you, isn’t she? Just like Castiel.”

“You shut up—” Dean tried to say, but Lucifer raised the switchblade to slice open a cut on Dean’s cheek.

Dean groaned, more so from anger than from pain, but Lucifer didn’t care. The blade traveled downwards, leaving another cut on Dean’s collar bone.

“Oh, Dean, I’m gonna have fun with this.” Lucifer grinned, poking the point of the knife experimentally through the skin between two of Dean’s ribs. Dean winced, crying out in pain as Lucifer wiggled the blade there. This made the devil grin wickedly.

In the heap of debris across the room, Ren let out a shaky breath. She was too weak—her brain couldn’t focus. Everything was spinning—she couldn’t feel where her body was. It took her a moment, but then she noticed that the one thing she was sure of—the one thing grounding her—was the heat coming from the necklace. She winced preemptively, then wrapped her whole hand around the pendant, hoping the pain would give her a rush of adrenaline.

“There are so many things I can do to you while we wait for Sammy and Jack to join the party.” Lucifer yanked the blade out of Dean’s ribs, then dragged the blunt edge down to his abdomen. “But first, you’re gonna watch me torture and then kill your little pet.”

“No!” Dean cried, voice strained form pain and blood staining his teeth.

With an evil smile, Lucifer spun on his heel. He was about to do just that when he stopped short. There was the sick noise of breaking flesh. Dean blinked in surprise when Lucifer’s body shuddered slightly, then he was suddenly released from the invisible grip holding him. Unprepared for this, Dean slumped towards the ground, catching himself and struggling to his feet.

The switchblade fell out of Lucifer’s hand, and his head bowed, looking down at where there was a long sword buried in his chest. He lifted his gaze from his wound to the inflicter. Ren, panting heavily and bleeding from both mouth and nose, glowered up at him. With a menacing snarl curling her lip, she twisted the blade in further, a warm light illuminating she and Lucifer’s faces. Dean’s eyes widened as the little tent the sword made in the back of Lucifer’s shirt began to burn away.

“Hey, president of daddy-issues?” Ren growled up at him, still a bit breathless. “You talk too fucking much.”

Lucifer’s face was contorted in pain, and he looked back and forth between her and her weapon again. “How…?”

Ren yanked the blade out of him. He stumbled to the side, and onto his knees, trying to hold himself up using a table. This gave Dean the perfect view of Ren, where she stood, bloodied and weak, holding a long, flaming sword. It was beautiful—there was a black grip on the otherwise gold hilt and handle, while the blade was a metal that was such a pure silver-color it must’ve been of the heavens. The hilt curved up around the base of the blade, the tendrils of gold metal imitating flame. Fire licked at the sword, but came nowhere near her hands, and there was a chain hanging from the end of the handle. She raised the blade in preparation, leaning forwards first to growl at Lucifer.

“Your sibling, Zophiel, sends their regards.” She said through her teeth, “You tell Chuck that he’s gonna pay for what he did to my friend. And to June.”

With that, she swung the sword, aiming for his neck. As soon as the blade passed through him, he disintegrated, the last flicker of his essence glowing blue before it evaporated and everything was over. Slowly, Dean rose to his feet, eyeing her incredulously.

Not noticing his expression, she turned her focus to the ceiling, screaming at the top of her lungs, “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE PISSED ME OFF, CHUCK! YOU’RE FUCKING NEXT!”

With that said, she relaxed a bit. For a long moment, there was silence outside of their labored breathing. She swallowed, body suddenly remembering that she was weak. The sword clattered to the floor and she caught her falling body on the table beside her hip.

“Hey, hey!” Dean said softly, rushing over to help her, though it was difficult for him. He took her by the arms, lifting her away from the table.

She let out a breathy laugh, gripping his arms back. They looked into each other’s faces, and hers broke into a smile. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she let out a watery laugh, almost as though she couldn’t believe Dean was there. He blinked, confused. Without a word she threw her arms around his ribs. She buried her face into his shirt, beginning to cry in earnest now. He immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her as close as he could, neither of them thinking about their injuries.

“I missed you so much!” She sobbed into his shirt.

He put a hand on the back of her head, bowing his own to get a little closer. A tear slipped out of his eye and onto her shoulder. He didn’t know what to say in response—he just held her like he’d thought she was dead, which incidentally, he had.

[raspberry-starship]

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A/N: kind of a short one, but if I get more writing done today I'll post the next chapter!

FOURTEEN DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION LEBANON, KANSAS 09:46 AM

It was silent in the Bunker these days. Sam had taken a little while to process his emotions—as well as he could, anyways—instead of burying himself in the lore, and now that he was feeling more rested, he was starting up his research again. He often wondered how this could be entertaining to Chuck. Before, he had needed one apocalypse after another to keep himself engaged, but now it was just silence. Well, at least until Jack started playing music all the time.

After a week, Jack got very sick of the quiet—he missed the feeling of insulation he used to have when walking around the Bunker—so he decided to do something about it. At first, there was no issue, but then, as it dragged on, one of Jack’s two roommates began to get annoyed with this new activity. Much to Dean’s chagrin, Jack was listening to Ren’s music, a lot of which was sad. The music haunted Dean, even though his room was pretty far from Jack’s. It eventually got to be too much, and he snapped.

“Close your damn door, Jack!” He bellowed, slamming the door for him before marching back to his own room.

Sam turned the corner and gave Dean a scowl. Dean, however, didn’t respond, just pushed past to continue towards his room.

“If I hear one more song of that alternative, British, bullshit, then I’m gonna lose it!” Dean called as he went, not looking over his shoulder.

He couldn’t listen to it anymore—it just made him think about how Ren should be the one playing that music. Ren ought to be there, but she wasn’t, and The 1975 just reminded Dean of this fact.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean passed and went to go check on Jack.

“Jack?” He asked softly, opening the door.

He glanced around, then spotted Jack, sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the far side of the bed and facing the wall. With a sigh, Sam’s hand fell from the doorknob, and he went over to sit on the bed beside Jack.

“I don’t know what I did.” Jack began softly, “I don’t know why he’s so angry with me.”

Sam rubbed his face, sighing, “He’s not… it’s not something you did, Jack. Dean is just really… sometimes he gets confused, and gets upset with other people around him when something else is upsetting him. I think he’s feeling really upset about Cas. I mean, he’s upset about everything, but the Cas thing seems to… well, it seems to be something he’s thinking about a lot.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “I don’t understand that either, because whatever must’ve happened between them, it must’ve made Cas really happy.”

Sam frowned, cocking his head. “What?”

Jack glanced up at Sam for the first time since he’d come in. “The deal. The one he made with the Empty.”

“What deal?” Sam asked, immediately apprehensive.

“When I was dead, the Shadow invaded heaven to take me, and then Cas convinced it to leave me be, by offering himself up in my place. But, the Shadow didn’t take him right away. It said it wanted him to suffer. It said it would come to claim him when he ‘finally let himself be happy’. When he ‘let the sun shine down on him’, that’s when it would take him.”

Sam blinked, frown softening but his confusion deepening. All that Dean had told them when they’d returned to the Bunker was that the Empty had taken both Billie and Cas.

“Sorry, Sam.” Jack said sheepishly, “Cas asked me not to tell you or Dean.”

“What? Why?” Sam frowned, a bit annoyed with the absent Cas.

“He didn’t want you to worry.”

Sam sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, that sounds like Cas.”

They were silent for a long moment, both reminiscing about their fallen friend.

“If Cas summoned the Empty to take him and Billie and save Dean,” Jack looked up at Sam, “then he… he must’ve let himself be happy for something. Really happy.”

Sam took this all in, and sat silently for a long moment. With a deep sigh, he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“Two dads out on vacation,” Sadie’s teasing voice echoed in his ears, “lookin’ at sunsets just like pals do.”

He shoved that thought aside and returned to the present.

“Hang in there, Jack. I’ll talk to Dean about leaving you alone, okay?” Sam waited for Jack to nod, then kept going, “For now, let’s just… turn the music down a bit and keep the door closed, okay?”

“Okay.” Jack murmured.

Sam made his way to Dean’s room, then shuffled to a halt. He really didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother right then. He didn’t really want to do anything, except maybe go into the library and read until his eyes got tired. He heard a sniffle behind the door. Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he took a deep breath. There was nothing to be done about it all now. With that thought, he turned and trudged back to the lore.

He was surrounded by stacks of books, and he didn’t know how much time passed before Jack shuffled into the library, still wearing his pajamas. Sam sighed, blinking a couple times and realizing just how sore his eyes were getting.

“Hey, Jack.” He said, trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

“Hey, Sam.” Jack replied softly, slipping into the seat across from him. “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, well,” Sam sighed, “I’m trying to find something that could help us against Chuck.”

Jack nodded idly, then reached out towards a book, fingers pausing just inches from the spine. “Can I help?”

Sam blinked, surprised. Quickly, he forced himself to nod, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, Jack, that would be great.”

Jack pulled the book to his side of the table, and settled in. Sam watched him for a moment, a concerned look on his face. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to do research for cases, but the kind of unemotional way he was going about everything lately was worrying to Sam. He hoped that this was a good sign—that Jack wanting to be involved in some kind of process was a step in the right direction—but, again, he couldn’t know.

* * *

FOURTEEN DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION OUTSIDE NYE COUNTY, NEVADA 12:36 PM

The sun beat down on Ren, and her mouth felt dry as a cotton ball. She shuffled to a halt, pulling out her water bottle and taking a careful sip. She was in the desert now, the baseball cap she’d stolen from REI doing little to stem the headache the direct sunlight was causing her. She wasn’t making the best time, and she was sick of sweating off all her damn sunscreen.

Her boots trudged along a two-lane highway. If she were in a different situation, she might’ve found the view so beautiful that she’d have to stop and draw it, but right then, she missed the woods like hell. She glanced up from the ground and saw a figure standing in the road ahead of her. Waves of heat distorted their image, but after a moment of squinting, Ren recognized a familiar lavender coat.

“Zophiel!” She grinned, walking towards them.

Suddenly, they shook their head, raising a finger to their mouth. Ren frowned in confusion, shuffling to a halt in front of them.

She made a move to speak when Zophiel held up a folded sheet of paper. Ren frowned, and took it. She parted her lips again to talk, when Zophiel’s hand cupped her cheek. Ren froze, in shock of this development, but looked up to find nothing other than the adoration of a guardian in their eyes.

“Hide.” They whispered harshly.

Ren didn’t need to be told twice. There was an old pickup truck in the road. She dove around the far side, trying to keep her pack quiet. She bent forwards, peering under the truck at Zophiel’s feet, then decided, for good measure, to crawl under the truck, belly-down on the pavement.

Zophiel stood right beside the double-yellow line, taking a deep breath. They tilted their face up to the sky, reveling in the sun’s warmth for a moment.

“Father!” Zophiel called into the sky. Ren’s eyes widened, and she felt the urge to go stop them.

“Aha!” A familiar voice said. “There you are.”

Zophiel’s face lowered, finding Chuck standing across the road. He wore a midnight-blue suit, and a smug smile.

“I could’ve sworn I sensed another presence on the Earth recently.” Chuck smiled, “You’ve gotten good at hiding, Zophiel.”

“Or perhaps you’ve just gotten bad at looking.” Zophiel replied, much to both Chuck and Ren’s surprise.

“Excuse me?” Chuck’s demeanor shifted then.

“Father, what you have done,” Zophiel shook their head woefully, “this is wrong.”

“What?” Chuck took a step forwards.

“You told me, before you sent me after Renna, that I was the only one you trusted—that I was the only angel who’d never once abandoned their post, and that you saw this as a sign of my undying loyalty.” Zophiel swallowed, “But in reality, all it was a sign of was my being biggest chump of all time.”

“Well, not the biggest chump of all time—I think that spot is reserved for someone much more important than you.” Chuck replied, almost equivocal in his insult, as though he thought it would sail over Zophiel’s head.

It did not.

“Zophiel, you were designed for exactly the job I gave you. It’s not your fault that you don’t know how to do anything else.” Chuck sighed, “Listen, I get it: it’s probably lonely in your observatory, knowing that there isn’t even another angel around that you can talk to, but what’s the difference, huh? You never talked to them anyways—”

“—There are no more people to watch!” Zophiel snapped, “What am I supposed to do? There is nothing left!”

“Make something up!” Chuck replied, “Besides, do you really want to break your streak of being the best son in all of creation?”

“ENOUGH!” Zophiel shouted suddenly, even making Chuck blink in surprise. “Enough with the manipulations, father!”

“What—?” Chuck began defensively when Zophiel interrupted again.

“I am no son of yours.” Zophiel said, their voice low. “And you are not the light. You are the darkness, Chuck.”

“How dare you!” Chuck bellowed, marching right up into Zophiel’s face, “I gave everything to you—to everyone! And this is how you repay me?!”

“Well, they spent all of existence entertaining you, and this is how you repaid them!” Zophiel countered, the most passionate Ren had ever seen them.

“I’ve had enough of you, Zophiel.” Chuck snapped, then adding, “You know, when I realized earlier that it was you who I’d sensed on Earth, I was so happy, because I had hoped one of my children would be around to keep me company.”

“If you miss your angels so much then why did you lock them away in the first place?!” Zophiel bellowed for the first time in all of their existence, and the wind stopped, leaving the world silent.

“Goodbye, Zophiel.” Chuck said bitterly.

He lifted his hand, preparing to snap. Zophiel inhaled and closed their eyes. Chuck’s fingers snapped and then Zophiel’s body disappeared into a puff of ash, the last flickering blue light of their essence dissipating into the arid sky. A hand went to cover Ren’s mouth as she tried to stay quiet. For a moment, Chuck was still. He sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Well, that’s too bad.” He said, but it didn’t sound genuine at all.

Ren blinked, and when she re-opened her eyes, his feet were gone. A shudder ran through her as she began to cry. She quickly turned to check and see if Chuck had just teleported to any other side of the truck, but found that she was alone again.

The sun welcomed her back into its warm rays as she stood beside the pickup truck. She furiously wiped tears away, then tried the handle of the truck’s cab. She sighed happily when it opened, allowing her to take a seat out in some shade. The windows had been down, so the heat inside the car wasn’t too bad. Her fingers fumbled with the piece of paper Zophiel had given her, until finally she got it open.

Ren let out a teary chuckle at that last bit—it was worded in a mildly-tactless manner that she found endearing. She missed them already; she missed knowing they were looking out for her. Most of all, though, she was angry. Chuck would not take one more person from her. She wouldn’t let him.

She bent forwards and yanked her pack into the cab of the truck. Slamming the door, she settled, sliding cross the bench to sit in front of the wheel. She smiled in spite of the situation when she saw that there were still keys in the ignition. She turned them, and the engine sputtered. She sighed, looking at the gas level—the tank was empty. Of course, she thought.

She lifted the tarp that was covering the bed of the truck and grinned—some gas cans lay there. She picked out one that felt about half-way full, and moved to fill the tank. She was not going to lose, not this time.

A couple minutes later, she was finally back in the driver’s seat. Taking a deep breath in, she turned the keys. The engine rumbled to life beneath her. She could’ve let out a whoop! of excitement, but she didn’t. Instead, she just leaned over to her pack, pulled out the map she’d been using and spread it on the bench beside her. She then noticed that there was a case full of CDs sitting in the well of the passenger side. A big grin spread across her face.

There was a homemade CD inside, labeled “Tracy’s Zeppelin Mix”. Ren silently thanked her as she read the list of songs—she and Tracy had similar Zeppelin taste (it should be noted that all of Ren’s, admittedly limited, Zeppelin knowledge was gleaned from Dean, of course, as well as the few she remembered her father playing for her). Celebration Day came on first.

Ren did a slow u-turn on the two-lane highway, and then settled in her seat. She adjusted her grip on the wheel.

“I’m coming, boys.” She muttered, before her foot pressed the gas pedal flat to the cab floor.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

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ELEVEN DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION SOMEWHERE 03:40 AM

Light was filtering through impossibly green leaves, the sun dappling Sam’s aching skin. He lay on his back, in a place that looked like a jungle, on a comfortable cushion of lush green foliage. He looked up to see a figure sitting with her back to him a little ways to his left. A pang in his chest warned him not to fall for it, but he wanted so badly to live in a fantasy—to live in a world where she still existed.

He sat up, leaning forwards to wrap her up in a hug from behind. His chin rested on her shoulder, while his hands held her gently around the waist. She hummed in approval, and he felt it reverberate around his ribcage. How did it feel so real?

Every night, she’d been visiting him in dreams. They were vivid and detailed and almost narratively coherent in their construction, and each night he became a little bit more invested in the fantasy.

A small part of him would always notice the differences; the fact that he couldn’t smell her, or feel that she was always warm—it used to fill up his every pore, his body straining to absorb as much of her warmth as possible. He missed hearing her heartbeat—he had always been able to count on that. What he wouldn’t give just to know that somewhere—anywhere—her heart was beating.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to see?” She asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He adjusted the position of his head on her shoulder. Her eyes were trained on a white lily, turning it over daintily in her long hands. “I heard once that lotus flowers in Egypt are blue. I’d love to see that.”

“You wanna go to Egypt?” He smirked, tightening his grip ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to her jaw and then murmur into her ear, “Not a cheap date, are you?”

She laughed, leaning back into him. Her head fell back against his shoulder, revealing more of her neck. She stared up at the canopy, hands still fiddling with the flower.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself exposed like that.” He whispered, using the soft, husky voice he knew made her weak in the knees, before leaning closer to brush a soft kiss to her throat.

The smile on his lips melted into her skin, making her shiver. He loved that he had that effect on her—that the first touch was always like a pleasant chill, running through her whole being. Everything he did had a reaction, and with her, he only needed a look to see what she was feeling in almost any situation.

“You know what song my mom loved?” She asked out of the blue, making him chuckle against the sensitive skin of her neck.

“You really wanna talk about your mom right now?” He teased, gently tugging on her earlobe with his teeth.

She tried to laugh, but then her chest stuttered with the next breath she took—always so responsive to him. Pressing one last kiss to a spot behind her ear, he relented, letting his head come back to rest on her shoulder.

“What song did your mom love?” He made sure to still ask. She beamed and in response, just began to softly sing it, smiling down at the flower in her hand.

“Without you… I’ve been standin’ round you like a statue… laying on the floor, thinkin’ about you… talk to myself like the cra zies do! Otherwise I’m great… what about, you?”

The sound of her singing was hollow, but it was as close as he could get these days, so he savored every second of it. He recognized the song, vaguely, but he couldn’t place it. She must’ve played it for him some time.

She smirked, “Not the most sensitive lyrics, but she always liked the angst of it all.”

“Mm.” He nodded in acknowledgement. She continued to hum the tune for another couple bars as he got lost in thought. After a moment, she gently recalled his attention.

“How was your day, Sam?” She smiled at him, tucking the lily behind her ear.

“You wanna know about my day?” He asked, a bit amused, “What could I have possibly done that would be interesting to talk about?”

She slapped an arm he had around her chest gently with her hand. “I’d say you do a whole lot more than I do.”

He smirked, a little sad, and scooted closer, adjusting his position so she was now sitting in between his thighs, his whole body trying to envelop her. She smiled, letting her head fall against the junction of his neck and shoulder, nestling there like it was made for her.

“I love lilies.” She commented idly, looking down at the one in her palm, while her other hand occupied itself by gently tracing looping patterns on his forearm. “It’s too bad religion made them all about ‘purity’ and ‘virginity’ or whatever.”

“Mm.” He smirked, “What are they really about?”

She beamed, trying to subdue it and failing miserably. “I don’t know why you indulge me like this.”

“Maybe because I like hearing to you talk.” He rested his chin on her shoulder again, “Maybe I just want to listen to you.”

A hand rose from her lap, tangling gently into his hair. He wished he could really feel it—that her hand really could run through the silky mass, looking for those silver strands she liked so much. For now, though, the ghost of her hands was all he got, and he was desperate for it—anything to ease the pain, even just for a little while.

“What’re you thinking about?” She asked softly, a smile curving her words.

“Uh… well,” He smirked, “I was thinking about how I miss you.”

She nodded, a sad smile on her face now. “I want to say that I miss you too, but I don’t exist. I’m sure if I did, I’d be really upset too—I’d miss you like hell—but I only exist when you come and find me.”

“I want to stay here forever.” He murmured, tugging her ever so much closer.

“You say that now,” She smiled lovingly, but also with an intense level of melancholy, “but if you were to stay here, you’d get pretty miserable, pretty quick.”

“I don’t care.” He said, voice still soft and face nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“I do.” She replied, barely above a whisper—it was more like he felt her say it than heard her. “I care.”

“I know you do.” He paused briefly to press a feather-light kiss under her ear before sitting up all the way again. “I know you do, and I don’t know why I didn’t trust you. I should’a known you could handle your power.”

“Sam …” She scolded gently, “…you know I forgave you for that, honey.”

“I just wasted so much time.” He lamented softly.

“Well, I’m no better.” She sighed, “I shouldn’t ‘ve let Chuck get into my head. Leaving you was the wrong choice. All it did was make things worse.”

He was quiet for a moment, having already told her that he understood her decision. After a moment of thought, he smirked, “Why do you call me ‘honey’?”

She shrugged, “I dunno, just feels right. D’you want me to stop?”

“No, no.” He said quickly, “No, I like it.”

She smiled at that. “Well, good, I’m glad, honey.”

A gentle chuckle rumbled in his chest and then he awoke. For a moment he was completely still, trying to figure out where he was and where she had gone. When he came to completely, and understood that it had been nothing more than another vivid dream, a crushing weight fell on his heart.

He sat up off the book he’d fallen asleep on and put his head in his hand. For the first time in a while, a tear slipped out of his eye. The droplet of water sat on the glossy wooden surface of the library’s desk. It was perfectly circular, and didn’t move until another one displaced it.

No one was awake to stop him as he ducked out of the Bunker, taking the Impala for a drive. The night was eerie and beautiful, and soon dawn would be illuminating the empty world. He still had her phone from when he went to see if she was alright, and he knew the code. Inside the car, he plugged it in, and pressed shuffle on her music.

When he heard the chorus, it felt something akin to an emotional javelin straight to the heart. He leaned forwards and skipped the rest of the song. He knew that the chances that it had just happened to pick that song were astronomically slim, and he couldn’t help but fear it was Chuck’s doing—another tiny way to twist in the knife.

It took no longer than fifteen minutes to get to his destination. He didn’t bother pulling over, just left the car in the middle of the street, and stared up at the small cottage of a house he’d parked in front of. He stayed there for a good while, just looking up at the house as dawn broke overhead. When the sky was painted pink and red, he got out, a flashlight in hand just in case.

The door was unlocked, of course, and the inside was completely still. No machines ran, no gas or water went through the pipes, and there were no footsteps to be heard outside of his own. He winced from the smell of rotting food, and turned into the kitchen and dining room area, finding the remnants of the dinner Ian and Sadie hadn’t gotten to eat still sitting out.

He continued, unsure of what he was looking for, when he walked around the island into the kitchen and paused. There, next to the sink, was a familiar jade ring on a chain. Golden light filtered into the room as the sun peeked over the trees outside, before shimmering in his teary eyes. After a moment of shock, he leapt forwards, snatching up the necklace like he thought someone might grab it first.

Once he was certain that he had the ring, he stopped to consider the positioning. He wondered if it was Chuck’s doing, or if the universe had just aligned in such a way that she just happened to leave behind her most valued material possession. She took it off when she washed dishes, which she would always start doing while Ian was still cooking, for some unknown reason. It occurred to Sam then that it was probably just because she was a people person. Or, rather, a people she cared about person.

She genuinely became happier when she just interacted with the people she cared about in any way. Something as simple as being in the same room with Ian, maybe singing along together to a song on the speaker and not talking much, was Sadie’s idea of domestic bliss. She did it with Ren sometimes in the Bunker, and she did it with Sam when she just went in to sit and do something of her own while he did research. Or… she had done it. He pulled the necklace on over his head, glancing around furtively to see if Chuck would appear and snap it away.

He knew that he ought not invade her space anymore, but he wanted to be reminded of her—he wanted to feel close to her. The wooden stairs creaked under him as he walked up to the tiny second floor, just big enough for the two bedrooms and a half-bath. He had only been here once, but he knew exactly which bedroom was hers. He moved to the right-hand door, turning the knob.

Her room was just like he remembered it. Maybe it was a bit more lived-in, now, with some more pictures up on the walls, but it was mostly the same—bed unmade, laptop sitting open on the desk, small glass prisms hanging in the two windows, and her jeans laying on the floor beside her hamper.

For a long while, as the sun continued to rise, he sat at the chair she had by her window, chin in his hand and brows furrowed as he took in the unbelievably silent space. Sunlight curved through the prism behind him, sending gentle specks of rainbow light all round the room, each shifting slightly with the ambient twists of the crystal. His eyes grazed over all the belongings he could see, trying to imagine what it would be like to be here with her. With a pained sigh, he turned to look out the window.

As he did, he caught sight of something odd on the sill, just blocked from view by the back of her armchair. It was a book that he recognized—it was one of Ren’s altered books. The source material had been a book of the Five Great Dialogues by Plato. A pang of longing to walk in on Jack and Ren crafting in their workroom shot through Sam with a vicious fury.

Gently, his hands took the book, running over the cover slowly, trying to get some kind of feeling from it. He couldn’t remember what Ren had done to this book, which had been graciously sourced by Sadie herself. There was a soft cracking from the spine as he lifted the cover. Inside, Ren had used an icy-violet gel pen to draw abstract floral patterns all over the first spread. Sam’s brows knit together miserably, his fingers gently running over the dents she’d created along with her marks.

He turned to the first page and then paused. The pages of the Republic, among others, had been taken out, only to be replaced by what looked like a journal Ren had torn the cover off of. It was probably a couple journals—the spine wasn’t narrow, and she had needed to fill the space—but at any rate, he could see through the blank first sheet that there was writing on the other side. Using context clues, he guessed whose it might be.

He closed the book and moved to set it down again. As he almost reached the window sill, his hand stilled. For a long moment, he stayed there, hovering an inch or so away from the book’s original resting place. There was an ache inside of him for what he’d caught a glimpse of—a want to remember her voice.

The book sat, unopened still, in the passenger side of the Impala as he drove back to the Bunker. He carried it in with him, and set it down while he got some coffee, then carried it to his room. Still, he didn’t open it.

There was a great sense of uncertainty about the whole thing. Would he open it and find comfort or further misery? Would he be betraying her memory by looking through her journal? He didn’t know. And so, when he sat down at his desk, he left it closed on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a long while, slowly sipping his coffee. His eyes flickered up to the origami star Ian had made him all those years ago, the colors now a bit washed out and the folds carrying some dust.

When he was done with his coffee, he finally couldn’t take it any longer. He set the empty mug down and tugged the book closer, opening it to the first entry.

He skimmed the rest of the entry, then turned the page to the final one.

For a long moment, Sam just sat there, staring at the blank lines on the sheet below the end of that entry. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and he already wanted to lay flat on his bed staring at the ceiling in his pajamas for hours on end until the sweet release of unconsciousness overtook him. He didn’t want to do anything. He didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to read, and he most certainly didn’t want to talk with anyone.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. There was one person he wanted to talk to. She just no longer existed.

“…there’s still something that remains the same.” She’d written.

When he began yearning to know what she meant by that. He could never put words together to describe what he thought her feelings were towards him. Any kind of positive view of himself felt vain and undeserved, but when she said it, he could almost believe that she saw him with such tenderness. When she was the one talking, he knew he had no right to say she was lying—she didn’t like lying, anyhow.

“…he’s like a shiny stone at the bottom of the ocean—always so beautiful that I can’t help but dive down to try and reach him.”

He sat back in his chair, staring at nothing with the book on the desk and his arms crossed. A shiny stone? What would compel her to make that comparison? He wasn’t complaining, of course—never before had a woman said such poetic things about him, and every time she did, he felt a little more whole—he just wished he could ask her. She’d have some sort of lovely explanation for it, but he would never be able to know. He just wanted to talk to her.

“And what if that was all I was put here for?”

That line echoing in his head was what finally did it. He felt a tear slip out of his eye. She had been so miserable. She had been tortured and sad for the last bought of her life, and then she got rewarded with oblivion for her hard work. Because of you, a small voice said in the back of Sam’s head. A sob shook him, his eyes falling closed.

“I know that I meant less to him.”

He began to cry in earnest, sitting up to cross his arms on the desk and rest his head. He began to sob, and he wasn’t totally sure which part was the most gut-wrenching: the thought that she’d believed he valued her less, the fact that he had felt that way in some sense, the idea that there was no way for him to resolve because he couldn’t find her, or the reality that he had been, since the extermination, becoming more and more sure that Chuck had been lying, and put them through all of it for nothing.

That day, Sam forced himself to be done. Done with all of it—the caffeine-driven days, the research, the not sleeping in bed—at least for today. He needed to take care of himself, he knew that. That’s what she would’ve wanted; she wouldn’t have wanted him working himself to the bone to find her, she would tell him that he does his best work when he’s well-rested. So, for the rest of that day, he stayed holed up in his room, watching The OA and thinking about her.

The world was empty, now, without her. He knew there were millions of other people also missing, but the fact that she wasn’t there was a draining thing to live with. He would take care of himself, and he would find her. And maybe, later today, if he went to sleep, he would see her again.

* * *

AWAKENING NO. SEVEN THE EMPTY ⦽⨳:⫏⫝ QϘ

Sadie jerked awake, but at this point, she was no longer surprised to find herself back in the Empty. A long, defeated sigh escaped her, and she slowly drew herself up into a sitting position. The maroonness was the same as ever—unending and deep red, all around her—but the Shadow was not immediately visible. She frowned and turned to face forward again, only to find it sitting on a plush, green-velvet sofa, holding a paddle-ball game with a very long string. The Shadow didn’t even need to look at the paddle-ball to do it flawlessly, its unimpressed stare fixed on Sadie.

“Did it work this time?” It asked dryly, almost mocking her.

Sadie rolled her eyes and turned away. “What d’you care.”

The Shadow rolled its eyes too, “Whatever. What did he say?”

She heaved a long, furious sigh. “None of your business.”

She blinked and then the Shadow and its couch were in front of her—or was she in front of it?

“Do you want help or not.” The Shadow said, tucking the paddle-ball away somewhere, “Because I could just leave you to flounder around, if you want.”

“What?” Sadie frowned, genuinely taken aback.

“You said that I oughta ‘get off my ass and be helpful for once’ four naps ago, or did you forget?” The Shadow replied snarkily.

Sadie glowered up at it and thought for a moment. The Shadow had taken to calling them naps recently, and it was the only way Sadie could really tell time here, even though there was really no time, was there?

“I’m pretty sure it only happens when he goes to sleep.” She offered begrudgingly.

“Huh.” The Shadow sat back, its paddle-ball gone. “So, he’s calling part of your consciousness down.”

“I think so.” Sadie nodded, pondering with a frown, “But I can never remember to tell him that I’m here when I’m there. It’s like I forget everything but the time I’ve spent in his head.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me.” The Shadow said.

“What? Why?”

The Shadow rolled its eyes, “Humans make memories with synapses, genius. Celestial beings don’t. Since this place is nowhere, and you don’t experience time like you used to, your body is stuck in the same state it was when you left Earth. Your brain doesn’t form new synapses here, you’re frozen. So, when you visit your boyfriend, you have no new memories to pull from.”

Sadie frowned incredulously, “Then why can I remember when I’m here?”

The Shadow glanced away, grinding its teeth together before grumbling, “I don’t know.”

Sadie narrowed her eyes in confusion, then noticed that an armchair had appeared in front of The Shadow. She moved to sit on it, still watching The Shadow with suspicion.

“So should we just chalk it up to magic?” Sadie asked.

“Probably.” The Shadow rolled its eyes.

Sadie stared at the Shadow for a long moment, contemplating. “You’ve known him since the beginning.”

The Shadow pulled a glass of chardonnay out of the void and took a sip. “Well, I was here first.”

Sadie considered this, “But you didn’t make Chuck or Amara.”

“No.” The Shadow agreed, “When I was first woken up, it was because of them. Think about the big bang. Out of nowhere, a tiny speck of something that wasn’t nothing came to be. Except it was two somethings and they wouldn’t stop arguing all the time.”

“And you hated that.”

“No, I loved it.” The Shadow replied with biting sarcasm. “Of course I hated it. I want to sleep! They finally left me alone after a while—when God created the universe and she went off to destroy it—and I could go back to sleep. Nothing bothered me. All the angels and demons slept peacefully, and so did I. And then Castiel happened.”

Sadie smiled lightly at that. “It wasn’t really his fault, you know.”

“It is.” The Shadow snapped, “He woke up, then I woke up.”

“Right,” Sadie nodded once, “but he didn’t wake himself up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jack—the nephilim—he woke Cas up.” Sadie said, “Because he missed him. Because he wanted him back as much as you want to go back to sleep.”

“Well maybe he should’ve followed the rules.” The Shadow lifted its glass to take a sip.

“Psh!” Sadie snorted, “Like you care about rules. Whose rules are they anyways? Chuck’s?”

“The rule is I get all the angels and demons after they die.” The Shadow replied.

“But why?” Sadie asked, sitting forwards a little, “Why do you want them if there’s a risk of them waking you up?”

“Because I do.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well it’s the only answer I’ve got, cupcake.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and flopped back in her chair. The Shadow watched her covertly as she stared off into space, a glower on her face.

“Rules.” Sadie scoffed a little, “Stupid rules. Why does he get to decide the rules anyways?”

The Shadow continued to stare at her profile.

“He’s such a bitch.” Sadie scowled at the maroonness, crossing her arms, “All he does is use people then throw them away. He doesn’t care at all.”

The Shadow rolled its eyes. “That’s the way it is. Get used to it.”

“But why?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” The Shadow snapped.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sadie countered.

“Because there are no answers for them.”

Sadie shrugged, “Or maybe you just haven’t thought of one yet.”

The Shadow stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Is this what they call ‘optimism’? I don’t like it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just trying. Not like you’d understand.”

The Shadow straightened a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sadie rolled her eyes, “All you do is sleep. What’ve you ever tried at?”

The Shadow scowled at her, “I don’t need to try. I need to—”

“—Sleep! Yeah, I get it!” Sadie snapped.

“You keep your voice down in my domain!” The Shadow bellowed, its voice echoing around the Empty menacingly.

Sadie swallowed, frozen in her seat.

“You’ve already woken up enough people as it is.” The Shadow added, looking down to where a table and game of checkers had appeared between them. It turned the board so the black pieces were on its side then began to play against itself.

Sadie watched it for a long moment. “Why can’t I see my brother and sister?”

The Shadow slammed the piece it was putting down onto the table and sighed in aggravation. “I already told you—”

“—Think about it this way,” Sadie interrupted, sitting forwards on her chair, “I want to see the people I love just as much as you want to go back to sleep.”

“And?” The Shadow asked.

“Why wouldn’t you take a deal if it meant you’d get some quiet?”

“What, can you make all the demons, humans, and angels go back to sleep?” The Shadow asked pointedly. “I didn’t think so.”

“But if I could, would you let me see them?”

“Cupcake, if you could do that, then I’d give you anything you want.” The Shadow returned its focus to the game. “But you can’t.”

Sadie sighed and sat back in her chair, tugging her knees up to her chest as she watched the Shadow play checkers.

[raspberry-starship]

Wow thank you sm for such a detailed and clear response! Sorry you have to deal with that bullshit man that sucks. I’ve seen your blog and you seem like a really cool person so keep on keeping on I guess lol

Uh so this is not an update to my story obviously but I’ve been seeing a lot about this OCFA and was wondering if anyone could catch me up on the beef? I don’t understand wth is going on and I’d like to.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

A/N: alright I know this is a long one and I'll admit it's a little self-indulgent but.... no regrets!

EIGHT DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK, CALIFORNIA 07:46 PM

“I…” Ren shook her head in disbelief, staring up at the angel who’d appeared from the woods, “…I can’t believe you found me.”

Zophiel smiled, taking a seat across the fire from her. “It took me some time, but,” They settled, turning their gaze back to Ren, “there aren’t many people left in the world for God’s spy to watch over.”

“How many are there left?” Ren asked immediately.

“Four.” Zophiel nodded, “The other three are much easier for me to see.”

Ren frowned, “I was told recently that God and angels were not supposed to be able to see me. Is that wrong? How could you have found me, otherwise?”

Zophiel nodded. “No, it’s true. I just came to figure it all out, myself.” Zophiel rubbed their hands together, “In an empty world, though, all I had to do was look for a spot where I could not see the barren landscape.”

Ren smiled—she always liked the way Zophiel spoke. True to their patronage, they spoke like an avid reader.

“Me.” Ren replied, to which Zophiel nodded again.

“Yes.” Zophiel eyed her for a long moment, “You’ve gotten a lot stronger since I last saw you, Renna.”

Ren smiled softly. Maybe it was because it was Zophiel, but more than likely, it was just the ability to speak to anyone at all that was making her so happy. “Yes, I have a… clarity I didn’t have before.”

“Mm.” Zophiel nodded slowly, “I can see that.” Zophiel studied her closely, “The space you disrupt on Earth is not as obvious as it used to be.”

Ren frowned, a bit concerned by this. “What does that mean, Zophiel?”

Zophiel took a tired breath, “Before, you were like an absent speck in the mass of people and the vastness of Earth. Now, it’s more like a fold in reality where you ought to exist, or maybe the rippling heat does to a view on a scorching summer’s day. It’s a disruption that you have to really squint at a couple of times to be sure of. It could just be because there’s just no one else around, but whatever energy field that makes it impossible for you to be seen from the heavens is growing in diameter. It’s becoming more and more of a mass of disrupted space, as opposed to just a tiny place that is the size of your general being. And the field is continuing to fluctuate—I was able to pin-point you because your guard appears to be down, making the dead-zone smaller again.”

Ren blinked. “Oh, wow.” She then let out a soft, weary chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of wanted to be found.”

Zophiel frowned at this. “Why?”

“Because I’m lonely.” Ren replied candidly.

Zophiel nodded slowly, eyes trained on the fire for a long moment as they thought. Ren watched them, her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“What is it, Zo?” Ren asked gently.

For the first time since she’d known the angel, she was sure that there was something plaguing them. Zophiel smiled at the nickname, lifting their gaze to meet Ren’s again.

“You are a very special person, Renna.” Their eyes fell to the fire again, “Not just because of the role you are set to play. You are special for you.”

Ren smiled abashedly, a bit taken aback by the compliment and unsure how to respond.

“I…” They paused, frowning at the fire, “…for the first time in my existence, I have the courage to say that I am on humanity’s side.”

Ren cocked her head slightly, frowning. “What?”

“Since the beginning of the written word, I have been reading. And through this, I’ve come to discover that there is something within humans that celestials lack.��� Zophiel leaned back on their hands, staring up through the canopy above to the starry sky. “Humans exist with the knowledge that they are a single being. As an angel, I was created to be a cog in a machine—everything about me was meant to move forwards a larger plan. Humans don’t often have that burden. There are some select few that he designed for his own entertainment, but mostly, the world is made up of individuals. There is something so beautiful in the unpredictability of humans. Even in the ones he designed for his purposes, they have the self-worth to rebel. To make their own decisions. The best humans are beholden to the common good, but also to themselves, even if they don’t think of themselves in high esteem. They have a sense of self.”

Ren blinked, soaking up all the information. It was a beautiful observation, that must have taken Zophiel many years to come up with the way to articulate it.

“I was never taught to value myself as an individual. For a long time, I did not know that there was another way I could live.” Zophiel looked back at Ren, “I had my doubts long before I met you, but I was too afraid to act on them. Leaping out of the life that was built for me was a daunting idea, and it still is. So whenever I started to wonder about my purpose in the universe—not just the purpose assigned to me, but maybe an amalgamation of the two—I would shove the thoughts aside. Instilled in me was a great sense of loyalty to a place that had long-since forgotten me, and the great wave of guilt that accompanied even just considering disobedience was enough to scare me away from thinking about it any further.

Until that day when you asked me why I did as God asked—why I listened to his orders when for many years I had been left on my own. I had never even thought that there was another way for me to be other than thankful that he’d even spoke to me. I had been given life for a purpose, but it wasn’t my purpose.”

Ren nodded, listening intently, and something about it almost made the angel smile.

“See, even now,” Zophiel indicated Ren with a hand, “your listening to me is something I have never experienced, outside of my conversations with my vessels. I was made to observe, not to be recognized as an individual. I was meant to absorb the words of others, not to create my own. I’m a glorified telescope—or a microscope, whichever you prefer—and I am not meant to do anything except gather information.

And this fact—that I was made to be a semi-conscious object—reveals to me the flaws in my father’s plans. His hubris. He gave me just the tiniest ounce of free will, almost as if by accident, and he was so sure that I would not disobey—that I would not rebel in any way.” Zophiel shook their head, “He doesn’t even appreciate the world he’s created, because his ego is so gigantic. He has only ever existed in a universe of his own creation—after he and his sister existed in the void—so he does not know what the world would be like without him. When he told me to visit you, he was so sure of my loyalty—he took advantage of the idea that I was his child and therefore under his dominion, but I’m not.

The last straw for me was when I was thinking over the vision he requested I show you—all the inconsistencies you pointed out were my fault, because I had never written a story before. When I did, I realized this was an itch I had never thought to scratch. I didn’t particularly like scratching at it, but the experience made me wonder if, perhaps, there were other itches waiting inside of me to be scratched.” There was a pause as they sighed, “I was also humbled by your critique of my work, which led me to see a further flaw in my father—his unwillingness to admit wrong. In the little, egoistical part of me, I feel that this is something that makes me better than him. He would not change his opinion of you, no matter what you did. He is obsessed with his creation—he constantly calls humanity his favorites, and yet he thinks so little of you all. Even you, perhaps the most exciting anomaly of all time beside the nephilim, is unfit for any kind of praise.”

Ren raised a finger to interject. “I think that’s partially ego and partially his raging misogyny.”

Zophiel nodded in conceit. “Very true. The world was created in his image, which would explain the prevalence of it on Earth.”

“‘As it is in heaven,’” Ren said sardonically, lifting her water bottle to take a sip.

“Mm.” Zophiel nodded, eyes distant as they thought. “I keep thinking about all the time I have been alive, and wondering whether or not it was all wasted. I wonder now, which is, in itself a vast change from when I was first born. I wonder and I question actively, instead of just when I feel that I am alone. I… I see now the difference between telling and showing. I was born and then was told that our father was a benevolent, loving, creator, and that we were tasked with the righteous mission of protecting his creation. You, and my vessel, Tala, have shown me that trust and respect is earned, not taken.”

Ren nodded, smiling jubilantly at their revelations. “Yeah, Zo, that’s right.”

Zophiel smirked shyly, and then looked down at the hands in their lap. Silence surrounded them for a moment, but it was content, and warm, and not just from the fire.

“Thank you, Renna.” Zophiel began softly after a couple seconds.

Ren looked up, a bit confused, “For what? Listening?”

Zophiel nodded again, a small smile tugging at their lips. Ren returned the smile, hers much brighter.

“Any time, Zo.” She said, and Zophiel could tell that she meant it.

“You should get some rest.” They spoke gently.

“I will, but first: how are you still around? I thought he snapped everyone out of existence?” Ren asked.

Zophiel nodded solemnly, “Yes, well, he has simply locked all the angels in Heaven and all the creatures from below in Hell. I was lucky enough to be in my Observatory when he cleansed the Earth. To be quite honest, I think that he forgot about me. For now.”

“For now?”

Zophiel nodded, “He will probably find me again soon. Before he does, though,” They reached into the inside pocket of their coat, and pulled something out, “here.”

They tossed something over the fire to Ren, who caught it a bit awkwardly with both hands. She looked down into her palms, and found that it was a long chain, with a pendant on the end.

“You are the only one I trust to keep it safe.” Zophiel said solemnly, calling Ren’s eyes to theirs again. “It is more than what it seems.”

Ren smiled and nodded. “I’d expect nothing less from an angel’s necklace.”

Zophiel let out a soft laugh at that, nodding as well. They looked back up to Ren, and she knew that it was time for them to go.

“I’ll see you soon, Zophiel.” Ren said softly, a warm, affectionate look on her face. “I look forward to it.”

Zophiel got as close as Ren had ever seen to a beaming smile.

When she blinked, they were gone, and she was alone again. She looked down at the necklace in her open palm. It was a brass-colored sword, with a set of metal tendrils coming from the hilt and wrapping around the base of the blade. In a different metal—one that was much more copper-colored—there were more almost blooms of tendrils curving up the blade. She couldn’t decide if it was meant to be plants or fire.

In any case, she pulled the chain over her head. The blade fell to her belly-button, and she found herself enraptured by it. She lay back onto her pack, settling in to sleep. Her hand toyed with the sword pendant, thinking.

You’re the only one I trust to keep it safe. Zophiel’s words echoed in her ears.

After a moment of consideration, she decided to tuck the pendant into her shirt. As she did, she glanced around furtively, as if she thought someone might see. She was new to the concept of being God’s blindspot, so the paranoia she’d become so accustomed to feeling was hard to let go of. She was alone in the woods, and she knew that there were no animals or people to disturb her.

* * *

NINE DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION SOMEHWERE 2:05 AM

Sam was standing on top of a giant mirror. He turned slowly in place, considering his surroundings. A shifting palette of grays, whites, and ghostly blues drifted lazily overhead, and when he took a step, the mirror rippled like he was walking on water that never broke—the surface tension strong enough to hold up a giant man. He frowned at this, then turned in place, searching for anything. It seemed to go on endlessly—the fog above and the mirror stretching out as far as he could see.

The dreams had continued every night since that first time; he’d go to sleep and eventually end up somewhere unfamiliar, with her awaiting him. Though, this time he wondered if she wouldn’t be there. The thought both frightened and relaxed him. If she wasn’t there then it wouldn’t be so hard to wake up, but that also meant he wouldn’t get to see her, the thought of which caused a bone-splintering ache to wash over him.

He turned in place again, looking over the area once more. In a direction he was sure he’d already looked, Sam spotted an island. It was tiny, maybe four yards across at its widest point, with the blackened skeletons of two burnt trees standing atop frosty-green grass. He moved towards it.

His hand skimmed across one of the gnarled nubs left behind from a branch that had burned away on the closest tree. He glanced around, half expecting for her to appear somewhere behind him. There was no masking his disappointment when she didn’t.

With a sigh, he eased himself onto the ground, arms hooked around his bent legs. He stared out at the endless view for what felt like a long moment, wondering why this dream was so vivid. He’d wondered that every night since they’d begun, but still, he found himself asking why each and every time.

At the edge of the island, just beyond his boot, he noticed a ripple in the mirror that he didn’t make. Cautiously, he leaned forward, peering over the shoreline. As soon as he sat up enough, he could see the reflection of someone in the mirror, their hand hovering over the surface, having just caused the ripple. His hands fell away from his legs and he scrambled to kneel over the edge of the mirror, staring down into the surface.

Sadie stared back at him, his own reflection missing. She cocked her head slightly, a mass of her dark hair hanging around her face as she stared down—or up, from his point of view—at him.

“Sam?”

Her voice came like an echo across an unstable radio channel.

“Yeah.” He murmured, leaning forward to touch the mirror when he stopped himself.

With a tense swallow and a look of guilt, he pulled his hand back. It wasn’t real. None of this was real. He wanted to touch her, but he couldn’t. None of this was real, and he was always so close to falling face-first into the fantasy that he had to stop himself. For a long moment, he just stared at her.

“I miss you.” He whispered.

Her brows knit together sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Spaceman.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up at that, but the gesture was hollow. None of this is real—she isn’t real.

The soft sound of her sighing drew his focus back to her. She was staring out at her own view, not looking through the mirror at him. Slowly she shook her head, a frown creasing her brow.

“Damn, there was something I wanted to tell you but I can’t…” She slouched a little, dejected. “…I can’t remember for the life of me.”

Her using that turn of phrase felt like a punch to his gut—a hit he had not been expecting. He glanced away for a moment, collecting himself, then turned back. Only his reflection stared back.

“Sadie?!” He shouted, hands gripping the ground in fear.

“Spaceman.” A gentle voice said behind him.

He spun rapidly, finding her there, standing in a white, linen jumpsuit with thick straps and no sleeves.

“Just over here.” She added softly.

Smiling down at him, she held out a hand. He swallowed and took it, the pair of them getting him to his feet. He stumbled a little and looked down to make sure he was stepping on solid ground, then when he looked back up, his eyes met hers. In that moment, he realized that he couldn’t actually see her eyes, he just sort of knew that this was where they would be, and so he continued staring.

“Y’ dress me up pretty nice in these dreams.” She smiled wryly, “Are you tryin’ to tell me something about my current wardrobe being unsatisfactory?”

He wanted so badly to smile back. He wanted to look down at her and see her face—he wanted to have her back. He reached out and tucked a dark lock behind her ear, watching his hand do it.

There wasn’t a clear line between his consciousness and his dream self—i.e. he didn’t always have full control of what happened in the dreams, like his subconscious was acting out a regular dream for him. That Sam—the one that wasn’t aware he was dreaming—grabbed her face desperately and kissed her. She melted against him, holding his waist.

Sam knew that he was kissing her. He knew that there was contact being made, but he couldn’t feel it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. His hands palmed her back, trying to bring her even closer—trying to make her stay close. Nothing worked—she was never going to be close this way. But, if he just let himself give up the fight for a moment, it was so vivid that it could almost pass as the real thing.

He was simultaneously inside of that dream avatar of himself while also floating outside of their embrace, only able to watch. The two views wove together to form some sort of visual language, but all he could do was watch. He knew, deep down, that part of him was still in control of this.

Somehow, they ended up on the mirror. She was laying with her back against the surface, all of her limbs wrapped around him. He could see his hand running up the side of her thigh, and somewhere he knew that he should feel it, but he didn’t. He watched his hands desperately brush over every inch of her, trying to find any part that was real—any part he could feel under his hands.

“Sam…” She murmured between kisses, sighing when he lay his whole weight on her.

Outside of them and inside of himself at once, he remembered how much he’d loved doing that to her. She wouldn’t be crushed by him, and she relished in the feeling of being somewhat flattened. He wished that he could do that now.

“Y’don’t—” She whispered between feverish kisses, smiling, “—gotta—swallow—me whole—Spaceman.”

“Yes, I do.” He mumbled back against her lips, still slowing down despite his words.

He pressed a more searing kiss to her lips, his hand cupping her face. He could see the figure his mind said was his—the touch that his brain said belonged to him—but he couldn’t feel his hands as they acted out what he ached to do.

Finally, a moment later, he pulled back from her. They stayed still, faces inches apart. He was panting a little—or at least, he would’ve been if this were real. And since it wasn’t, he felt all of the things he wanted to say to her bubbling up inside of him.

“I should’ve tried harder.” He murmured, “I should’ve tried harder to make you stay.”

“Sam—” She began to gently chastise when he interrupted.

“—I know, I know, okay, very accurate hallucination of my girlfriend, I know I can’t make you do shit.” He took a breath, voice lowering again. “I just need to… if this is my head, and my dream, and my imaginary version of you, and it’s all I get, then I want to just…”

She waited patiently, one hand rising to tuck some hair behind his ear.

“Fuck, I wish you were real.” He sighed with a shudder, bowing his head a little. “You would know what to do to help Jack.”

“What’s wrong with Jack?” She asked immediately, growing concerned.

In the real world, or the dream, or somewhere between the two, Sam felt pressure building up behind his eyes. She was always so caring—she cared so much about his kid.

“He misses Ren. And Ian.” Sam murmured, cupping her cheek. “And I miss you.”

She had nothing to say to that, but she looked like she wished she did.

“I don’t know how to… I don’t know how to keep moving anymore.” He confessed softly, “I don’t know how I can come back from this one. I don’t… I don’t know how to stay focused with all this guilt weighing on me.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, brows knit sympathetically.

“I just fucking miss you.” He barely breathed, “Ever since you left, during any downtime I have, the first thing I think about is you—wondering what you’re doing. Sometimes I wonder for hours, but most times it’s just for a couple seconds, and now I… I can’t even do that. I didn’t know it was comforting to know that you were out there, with a pulse and moving around. It’s like a habit now—the wondering about you. Every time it happens now, all I feel is a hollow… nothing. Nothing.”

He sniffled in the real world and inside of the dream, reminding him of its being a fake reality. At this point, though, he didn’t care—all he wanted was to be with her.

“Because you’re not here.” His voice cracked, still just below a murmur. “You’re not out there, with a pulse and moving around. You’re not here, and every day I think about that, and it makes me want to…” He fumbled, searching momentarily for words, “…it makes me wanna fall to pieces.”

His mind didn’t tell him that the eyes he couldn’t quite make out were watering, but Sam knew that there was no world where that admission wouldn’t make Sadie teary.

“I…” He stared into her foggy visage, wondering if he ought to finish his sentence. After a pause, he did, voice barely at a murmur. “…I failed you.”

She shook her head, reaching up to touch his face with both hands. Suddenly, the surface tension of the mirror broke. They both fell through into a colorless nothing, his stomach turning upside down.

With a soft gasp, he jerked awake, sitting up immediately to look around. His heart was racing and his head was sore, and then he looked back and realized he’d been sleeping on her side again. Without meaning to, the silent moment let his mind wander back to her. Again, like a force of habit, his brain wondered what she was doing, just as he’d been doing every morning when he woke up, since she left. Then he remembered that she wasn’t doing anything.

His bare feet fell flat against the cold floor, while above them, he covered his face with his hands, elbows leaning on his thighs. As quietly as he could, he began to cry. His shoulders shook with each shuddered sob, and he wished that she was there to just… be.

He just wished that she still existed.

A couple minutes passed this way, then he sobered up enough to take a seat at his desk. He stared at his unopened laptop, vaguely thinking that if he was up, he ought to keep researching. Without his permission, his mind wandered to a night he tried not to think about.

It had been an uneventful day, at the end of which Sadie had been sitting playing Pokémon for a while while Sam had dozed on the table beside her. Sometime later, Dean had come in, grumbling something about Sam needing to sleep in a bed, for once, after which Sam had abruptly awoken. She’d beamed at him, soft and tender as she’d murmured,

“Honey, let’s go to sleep.”

They had bid Dean goodnight and had been barely around the corner in the hall when she’d jumped him. Her warm body had pressed him to the wall, trapping him as she’d nearly killed him with a searing kiss. When she had broken away, she’d stayed close, eyes flickering down to his lips.

“Take me for a drive, Sam.”

He had found it impossible to deny her request. They’d snuck out into the night, the evening air cool and refreshing. She’d let him drive, all of the Evo’s windows down as they flew across the asphalt, all alone on the two-lane roads. She’d only opted for the passenger seat to spend the whole drive teasing him, but he had gotten his desired reaction when he’d brought her to a place he had researched the week or so before. It was an access road about a half-hour from the Bunker, that led off the cement and into the woods. At the end of the poor excuse for a road was a small patch of grass just big enough to pull a three-point turn, beside a natural pool of water in the river that flowed under the main road.

The shore was rocky, and all of the edges were dotted with big boulders perfect for sitting. The canopy of leaves above was broken just a little, creating a lovely hole with which to view the stars. She had been silent as he pulled in and parked, before turning off the Evo, her eyes on the view outside, taking it all in.

“How did you find this place?” She asked.

He smiled, “I did some research. And then I did some wandering.”

She’d raised her brows, impressed. They’d gotten out of the car, and before she’d been able to examine the river any closer, he had her pressed up against the Evo, his mouth covering hers with a barely-contained hunger. She’d taken one of his coats when they left, and within minutes he’d laid her out across the hood of the Evo. He’d pulled her t-shirt off and discarded it without a care, the only thing left to separate her bare skin from the cool metal of the car had been his jacket.

The sounds she’d made as he ate her out were absolutely beautiful and at once unbelievably sinful. Then, as she’d lay boneless on the car watching, he’d stripped out of his own clothes and passionately made love to her right where she lay. By the end they’d both been overheated and sweaty, completely dopey and reveling in each other.

When he’d rested long enough to catch his breath he’d scooped her up off the car, making her let out a small squeal of surprise. After some fumbling he’d managed to clumsily bring them to the river, where he’d deposited her. Spluttering indignantly, she’d stood up out of the water, completely soaked. He’d looked on from the boulder he’d gently dropped her off of, laughing heartily at her expense. Sometime in remembering this, Sam started putting his boots on.

“Way to make a girl feel special, Spaceman!” She said, trying her best to subdue her smile.

“Oh, come on!” He grinned, “That’s what you get for being a tease.”

She rolled her eyes, “C’mon, get in here.”

“Eh, I dunno.” He rested his forearms on his knees as he squatted on the boulder, smirking down at her mischievously, “I don’t mind the view from up here.”

“Psh!” She scoffed, shaking her head slowly, “I think you might be stalling.”

“Stalling? Me? No way.” He grinned.

Sam walked into the kitchen, grabbing an unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet above the fridge. This was a mistake. There, beside the fifth of whiskey, was the bottle of regenerative potion he’d brewed for her. His eyes ached and he slammed the cabinet shut, but not before securing the hard liquor.

“Sam?” A small voice asked from behind him.

Sam spun on his heel, wearing a coat and now holding a fifth of whiskey. Jack stood in the doorway, his laptop tucked under his arm and a concerned expression on his face. Sam looked from him to where Jack was staring at the bottle, and without thinking, Sam tucked it a little further behind his back. Jack’s gaze flickered up to Sam, worried.

“I just need to go somewhere.” Sam explained, not wanting to reinforce the idea that drinking should be a coping mechanism. “I just want to have… I’m gonna go somewhere and… I’m…”

He fumbled, unsure of what he ought to say for a moment when Jack finished for him. “…You want to go think about the people you miss somewhere that’s meaningful to you.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in sympathetic surprise, wondering how Jack was able to guess that so exactly.

“I do that, too.” Jack added quietly, looking at the ground. “You’ll be back, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam nodded, a bit perturbed that Jack would’ve thought any different.

Jack simply nodded to that, eyes downcast as he shuffled out of the kitchen, Sam sighed, wishing he knew what to do to help him. He had the urge to shove away his own pain and to focus fully on Jack, but then a big part of him couldn’t. He wondered why—what made this different than all the times before, when he’d avoided thinking about things that were difficult to help someone else instead? He didn’t know.

“Fine, if you wanna be a coward, then I’ll just get it over with!” She said decidedly before squatting down and dunking herself completely.

As Sam drove the Impala down an unlit road, he remembered her expression when she’d come back up. She’d been wincing dramatically before shaking her head to clear it. He’d let out a chuckle, shaking his head at her as he’d sat down, his legs dangling off the boulder.

“How’s the water, tiger?” He asked with a smile.

“Refreshing.” She replied stoutly, swimming slowly over to him. “What’re you doin’ up there, huh?”

“It’s cold!” He protested weakly, just looking for something to gently bicker with her about.

“That’s why you get the dunk over with!” She insisted, “Then you get used to it the fastest.”

“Gimme the research on that one.” He narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“What?” She laughed.

“I’m gonna need some scientific research to back up that claim.” He smirked, “What’s the source on that one?”

“Me, Spaceman!” She replied, unable to totally hide her smile, “From the lived, human experience—I know you’re still learning about all that.”

He’d tossed his head back and laughed at that one, and as he pulled the Impala off onto a barely-there access road into the woods, the ghost of a smile almost drifted across his lips. Almost. Finally, she’d simply given him her best pleading look, just the bust of her above the river water, and he’d given in without any further protest.

As he’d dipped his feet in, he’d found that she was right, it hadn’t been so bad. In fact, it had been somewhat refreshing after all the physical exertion. After dunking his head, he’d swum over to her, his wet hair pushed carelessly out of his eyes. She’d beamed, her arms immediately encircling him.

“Hello.” She smiled goofily.

He grinned, pulling her closer. “Hey.”

She let out a little chuckle, an extra hint of pink in her cheeks. “You come here often?”

He snorted, “Yeah, I might now.”

“Oh, really?” She raised her brows, inching a little closer.

“Yeah, you know, I had a pretty good time here, I’m thinkin’ it wouldn’t be too bad to have a repeat of that.” Sam replied, staying in the bit with a smirk.

“A good time, you say?” She continued, “And what kind of good time?”

“The best kind.”

“And what kind is that?”

He leaned in and stole a quick kiss before replying. “The kind where I get to have sex with my girlfriend on the hood of her car, the only scrap of clothing near her being my jacket.” He smirked when it made her chortle, “That kind of a good time.”

She nodded, “I can understand that.”

“Yeah, but I mean,” He let out a sigh of laughter, “it’s only good if it’s good for all parties.”

“All parties?” She repeated with an amused smile.

“Yeah.” He grinned as she chuckled at his expense.

“I can assure you,” She took a breath, a distinct blush in her cheeks, “it was one of the best times other parties have ever had. Of all time.”

“Of all time?” He raised his brows, “And what exactly does that mean?”

She smiled softly for a moment then leaned in close, “It means that when I’m lookin’ back on my life, this night’s probably gonna be high up on the list of best memories.”

Sam sat cross-legged on the riverbank, the fifth of whiskey standing between his legs. He glanced around the dark grove of trees, noting the heavy silence outside of the gurgling stream. So far as he could tell, there were no animals around anymore either, leaving the world in a suffocating quiet. He sighed and faced forwards again, remembering what their next exchange had been.

“Really?” He raised his brows, out of the bit for a moment and completely genuine in his excitement.

She’d nodded and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then, she’d leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, kissing him gently on the cheek before setting her chin on his shoulder. He’d sighed, relieved to have her so close.

“Just love being so close to you.” She whispered before he could, almost like she’d read his mind, “I just love you so much.”

He held her closer, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “I love you, too.”

She’d let out one of those pleased hums then, almost like a gentle purr against him. After a moment, she’d pulled back, looking into his eyes with a tiny, mischievous smirk on her face.

“You know, I’ve never done this before.”

“What? Gone skinny-dipping?” He asked with a surprised smile.

“Mhm.” She nodded, biting her lip unconsciously.

“How come?”

She looked down at her hands on his shoulders, voice barely louder than a murmur as she replied, “I was never comfortable with the idea of being completely naked, out in the world. I don’t know how to reckon with the idea that people are looking at me—or, I didn’t. It’s getting better. I think. But it’s still… it’s still there.”

He’d tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear then, looking into her face with a sympathetic frown. Now, he cracked open the bottle of whiskey and took his first sip. The burn of the liquid down his throat was almost appreciated—any sensation other than the ache of loneliness was welcome at this point.

“But not with you.” She breathed, meeting his gaze again.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “No, I… I know I’m safe when I’m with you.”

A tear slipped out of his eye. It fell onto the boulder he was sitting on, and he shook his head slowly, eyes glazed over as he faced the night—not taking in any of the sight in front of him anymore, but just lost in his own mind. He took a swig from the bottle, another tear rolling down his cheek.

“I… I want to be looked at, and to be cherished, and respected, but there’s always this…” She took a breath, “…nagging feeling at the back of my mind that I’m not good enough. Like my inside is what I know is beautiful, but my outside is still… unfamiliar. It’s hard to convince me that my body is okay—that I still, I dunno, have appealing features even though I’ve got terrible skin and a lot of body hair. And I don’t mention those because I want you to tell me that I don’t, or whatever, because those are both facts. I just… I just need to learn how to live with the truth and accept things for the way they are. But with you, I don’t worry about that stuff. You make me… you make me feel like a whole person. Sex is… it is an act of vulnerability. I’m allowing myself to be laid bare in front of you, and that’s because I don’t feel separate from my body when you look at me. When you touch me, I feel seen as a whole, not as a miss-matched set of pieces. I know… I know I’m a whole person. I am judged on my insides and my outsides and they’re only separate in my own head. You don’t see me as two people; I’m just… me. With you, I’m just me.”

For a moment, he’d been silent, a bit dumb-struck by her admission. Then, he’d slowly begun shaking his head, staring at her face in awe.

“You always have such detailed answers to things.” He murmured, “How d’you even have time to think that deeply about stuff with everything else you’ve got going on?”

She blushed furiously and ducked her head a little, “I dunno.”

“You’re incredible.” He added softly.

He’d smiled and crooked a finger under her chin. When she’d looked back up into his eyes, nervous and vulnerable, his insides had melted.

Sam used one hand to rub both of his eyes, a sob shuddering through him. With an angry breath in, he raised the bottle and drank for as long as he could manage it. When the sting became too much, he lowered the whiskey, careful not to break it when he set the bottle back down again.

“Well, d’you want to know about the first time I ever went skinny-dipping?” He asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” She nodded eagerly.

He’d begun swimming backwards as he spoke, looking for a rock to sit on in the water.

“It was freshman year of college.” He settled on a rock that left him above water from the middle of his ribs up.

“Mhm.” She prompted, letting him guide her into his lap.

“And I got shit-faced for the first time.” He smiled when that made her chuckle, “And me and my roommate at the time, were walking down the beach with some other guys, who were just like our next-door neighbors on both sides—we didn’t go to parties yet, because we, uh—”

“—Had no friends?” She teased.

He let out a small chuckle, admitting,“Yeah, pretty much.”

She’d laughed, scooting a little closer to him with an adoring smile on her face. How he missed that smile—that was his smile. That was the look that was just meant for when he was doing something she liked. Basking in the glow of that look did something to him that he hadn’t known how to recognize for a long time. It imbued in him a sense of belonging he’d never felt quite so intensely—one that built up in his chest, expanding outward to all of his extremities. When she looked at him like that, he almost forgot about feeling not good enough to be loved. If she could look at him with that much adoration and truly feel it, all just for and because of him, then he knew that, since he could trust her judgement, he could probably be good enough to love. He knew that was real.

Even if it wasn’t real, though, he was unsure that he cared. What was “real” anyhow? What made it less real since it was given to them—they still felt the love they had, right? What was the point of torturing himself if there was nothing he could do to alter his feelings in any way? Who cared where those feelings started, they were all in him now, and he couldn’t push them aside.

“And so,” He continued as she chuckled, “we went to the beach with our friends and, uh, yeah, basically it was my idea.”

She beamed, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He laughed lightly, “What, is that so hard to believe?”

She shook her head, “No, I know you’ve got an impulsive side.”

“Oh, do I?” He raised his brows.

“Mhm.” She hummed, leaning closer with her lips caught between her teeth. “And I like it. I like it a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, brushing a kiss against the column of his throat, “I especially like it when you lose control for me. Because of me.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I know you like that.”

He must’ve gotten a little too snarky for her liking because she’d then begun to slowly bathe his neck in kisses and gentle nips. He’d been unable to restrain himself from laying his head back onto the rock he was leaning against. As he’d been meticulously tortured by her expert lips, he’d stared up into the starry sky, reveling in the moment of languid pleasure; it had just been about being near one another.

He lay back, now, a third of the whiskey gone. When he peered up through the hole in the canopy, he couldn’t spot a single star that felt worth seeing.

When he was a younger man, he might’ve gotten one of the many weapons from the trunk of the Impala and done some serious damage to anything close by. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to move. All he could do was lift the bottle and take another swig.

An hour or so had passed and they’d ended up in the backseat of the Evo, tangled in the blankets she always kept in her car but still very much without clothes on. She’d taken him slow and passionate, sitting in his lap and whispering praises to him as her hands had run over every inch of him. Nothing in the world had existed then. All that mattered—all of what he had been able to comprehend as real—had been right there, just between the two of them.

He hadn’t kept count of how many times he’d murmured “I love you” into her skin. He’d been completely lost in her, and she’d drank up every bit of it. Something about that, on top of it all, had made it even better. He’d been doing just what she liked—he had been pleasing her so much that it turned back into something he had also taken pleasure in. It was silly how caught up they’d been in each other. It was silly, but he missed it. How he missed being loved by her.

Sam raised the bottle to his lips, clumsily taking a drink. Some of the whiskey dribbled onto his chin and he carelessly wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat. After that he went back to staring into the sky.

When they’d finished, she’d gone back into the water. He’d sat in the car, his feet on the ground and his hands clasped between his knees, a soft smile on his face as he watched her. She had almost seemed to forget about him for a minute as she’d cooled down, then she’d returned to him. He’d wrapped her up in a blanket before pulling her into the backseat with him.

All the windows had still been down, and for a long while, he’d just kissed her, propped up on his side as she’d lay on her spine, between him and the back of the seats. Eventually, he’d settled, both of them just holding one another.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“I dunno.” She said softly, eyes closed.”What’re you thinkin’ about?”

He shrugged, “Nothin’.”

She let out a soft laugh, “Stimulating stuff goin’ on in that brain of yours, huh, Lawboy?”

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes tiredly.

They had been quiet for a long moment then. The crickets outside of the car had been a soothing white noise, and the nice breeze had ensured that she could comfortably stay wrapped up with him. Her cheap blankets had been laid beneath them, and a sheet had been tossed haphazardly over them both. Finally, she’d turned to face him fully.

“Sam?” Her voice was small—so small that he knew she was nervous to broach the topic eating at her.

“Yeah?” He shifted, one hand under his head, his body cheated towards her.

“What d’you…” She swallowed and paused for a moment, not looking into his eyes as she continued, “…what d’you see for yourself? Down… down the road.”

“What d’you mean?”

She shrugged, still not meeting his gaze. “I dunno.”

“C’mon, Sadie, you obviously have some idea of what you’re asking me.” He offered a little smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

She’d sighed exasperatedly, and sat up, still staring down at anything that wasn’t his eyes. Donning a concerned frown, he’d sat up too, watching her expression closely.

“Do you…” She swallowed, “…do you… what’s the highest level of commitment for you?”

He smiled softly, “Are you asking me if I’d ever want to get married?”

She’d shrugged abashedly, pulling the sheet a bit closer to her. It was rare that she got so nervous about asking him personal questions like that, but he was aware that he gave off the air that he was afraid of commitment and he had been aware of this then, too.

“Yeah, I always thought I’d like to get married someday.” He said carefully, “I just…”

She’d been so patient with him—she’d never pushed him to tell her anything, or to hurry up his process of healing. She’d never once made him feel like there was a rush in the long-term—she rushed him plenty in the short-term—but in that moment, he had realized something fundamental that he hadn’t explained to her before.

“The last time I was thinking about that was when… was when I was in school.” He swallowed, “I thought… well, I…”

She’d waited a moment then tenderly lifted a hand to cup his cheek. He’d lifted his gaze from where he’d been staring into his lap, all puppy-eyes and vulnerability.

“About… about your girlfriend, right?” She murmured.

He had been able to see in her face, clear as day, that she’d been uncomfortable with talking about this. He’d gotten the urge to drop it and forget about it all when she’d gently tucked some of his still-damp hair behind his ear.

“I’m sorry I’m such a jealous type.” She barely whispered, staring into his face with an adoration he could almost smell. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about something—I can put my shit aside, I promise.”

He shook his head, “It’s… it’s not that.”

She cocked her head, “Then what is it, honey?”

“It’s…” He signed, “…I don’t want… I don’t want something bad to happen to you because… because I love you.”

She’d smiled sadly, tucking his hair behind his ear again.

“Knowing that you love me has been one of the most gratifying things I’ve ever experienced.” She murmured, “I’m not goin’ anywhere—I’m not gonna get killed off.”

“You don’t know that.” He lamented softly before thinking better of it.

“Well, let me see.” She thought for a long moment.

He began to smile, “Are you thinking up your counter-argument?”

“Yes.”

“Why d’you always have to argue with my brain, huh?” He asked with a smirk.

“Because your brain does stupid shit, sometimes.” She replied matter-of-factly.

He barked a laugh, “Mine isn’t the only one in this car that does stupid shit.”

“Yes it is, because I actually don’t have a brain, so,” She shrugged as he laughed, “no stupid thoughts if you have no brain to think ‘em!”

He shook his head woefully with a smile, “Well, at least now I know why you do some of the dumb shit you do.”

She swatted his arm gently. “Back to the point.”

He raised his hands in mock-surrender. “I wasn’t the one who got you off-track in the first place!”

“Yeah you were!” She insisted stubbornly, “You and you’re dumb face—you’re too good-looking, it’s distracting.”

He’d laughed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. She’d melted against him, hands rising to tenderly cup his face for a long moment as they kissed. When they had pulled apart, she hadn’t gone far, instead opting to rest her forehead against his and murmur softly to him.

“One time isn’t a pattern, Sam.” She said, “Just because it happened last time, doesn’t mean it’ll happen this time.”

He sighed, eyes closed. “I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Well, what would make you the happiest?” She asked.

He opened his eyes and looked right into hers. “Just being with you. Just having you, label or legal definition be damned, I just want to have you, Sadie.”

She scooted a tiny bit closer. “You do have me, Spaceman.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know.”

“And that works out, anyways.” She said, offering him a smile, “Because all I want is to have you, too. If you don’t want to get married, that’s fine. I just need you.” With a smile, she whispered his words back to him, “Labels and legal definitions be damned.”

He ached for her. There was literally a physical ache in his chest, going all the way down to the pit of his stomach. She always made him feel like a volcano on the verge of eruption, no matter what feeling it was that he would be erupting.

“It…” He sighed, “…it’s not… it’s not off the table, you know.”

She’d smiled, caressing his cheek with her thumb as she’d nodded.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that I…” She swallowed, “…I don’t see myself going anywhere. I don’t…”

He sobbed as he remembered her next words, taking a big gulp of whiskey, the burn almost non-existent now.

“…I don’t know that I’ve ever felt anything like what I feel about you.” She said, “I… I thought about marriage once, with… with my first partner, but it’s different with you. With you, I…” She let out a little sigh of laughter, “…with you I was willing to wait for years. I was okay with working things out with you, and I still am, because at the end of the day, the most important thing to me is being in your life. I mean, not that my existence revolves around you—”

“—No, no,” He interrupted gently with a smile, “it’s fine, I understood what you meant.”

She smiled, a bit nervous still. “And what about… other stuff?”

“Other stuff?” He prompted with a smile.

He’d sort of known what question she’d been dancing around but he had wanted her to say it to make sure. She’d shrugged again, too sheepish to speak aloud.

“D’you…” She swallowed, “…d’you… want… kids?”

He smiled, “Yeah, I mean, I’d be fine with the ones we have if you don’t want any more, but, on the other hand, if you wanted more kids, I’d be interested in talking about that.”

She smiled shyly, “I’m not sure.”

“How come?”

She shrugged, “I guess I’m just… I’m just scared of messing up. And scared of giving birth. And all of that stuff.”

He nodded, “Well, we could always adopt.”

She smiled at him, charmed by this idea.

“And I’d say you did a pretty good job with the ones we’ve got already.” He murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

She let out a sigh of laughter, eyes closed and a dopey smile on her face.

“Let’s just sleep now, though.” He encouraged gently.

To that, she barely murmured, “Okay, Spaceman.”

A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of her voice saying those words. Who knew that such an innocuous nickname could make him feel so absolutely cherished.

He’d begun dreaming of a future with her. There was a life he’d imagined, where they lived near all their family and stayed close—he’d gotten used to the big family. He missed the in-law like relationship he had with Cath, the way Charlie loved being the “cool aunt”, and the look on Dean’s face as he took his seat at the head of the table, all of his people sitting around a meal he’d made. Sam missed watching the kids argue about whatever card game they were teaching Jack; he longed to walk into the workroom and find all of Sadie, Ian, Jack, Ren, and Cas crafting something or other. Sam missed all of the people he’d once taken for granted as fixtures in his life, because, as he was constantly reminded of these days, they weren’t fixtures. Sadie had proven that.

“What’re you doing, Ren?” Ian laughed, sitting across the table from her.

She’d glanced up over the book she was destroying, a utility knife in-hand and a quizzical look on her face. She, Jack, Cas, and Ian had pulled the tables together in their storeroom, where they worked on separate projects. A couple weeks prior, Sadie had taken Jack and Ren a couple towns over to the nearest department store so they could buy suitable lighting. After this, a series of mis-matched string lights had been strung around the room, the plug hanging just beside the socket near the door so that the overhead lights rarely got any use. Sam had wandered in looking for Sadie and found them all sitting there.

Cas had been sharing an instructional book with Ian, the both of them working on origami with varying levels of success. Ren had been sitting with books she was planning on altering, a small stack awaiting alteration on the desk beside her, while Jack had been sitting with Sadie’s Switch, not doing art but just being with the rest of them and chatting while he’d played Pokémon.

“I’m destroying books, what’s it look like?” Ren replied to Ian.

“It looks like those books somehow wronged you.” Cas commented idly.

He had still been focused on the tiny bird he’d been trying to fold while making his son and Ian smile. Jack had then noticed Sam hovering in the doorway. He’d smiled and sat up a little.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hey, buddy.” Sam smiled, shuffling a little further into the room, “This place is lookin’ pretty nice.”

“Sadie is good at hanging lights.” Ian said, “Back home, she’d put up lights all over her bedroom and in mine, too.”

“The secret is: no LEDs.” A soft voice spoke from behind Sam.

He’d turned to find Sadie slipping into the room, a smile on her face. She’d touched his shoulder tenderly as she’d passed, moving to take one of the only empty seats at the table.

“That’s not very good for the environment, you know.” Ren said as Sadie sat down on the stool beside Cas, a space between her and where Jack sat at the end of the table.

“Well, you know that the big companies are really the ones to blame.” Sadie replied, “Our addition is so minuscule it’s almost statistically irrelevant. They just always make it seem like it’s the consumers’ duty to fix shit when they’re the ones messing it up in the first place. What really needs to happen is better regulation on those corporations, but since they have so much money they can pay lobbyists to keep that from happening.”

Ian looked over at Sam. “Is your guys’ idea of a ‘date night’ sitting at home listening to podcasts about global warming?”

“No, that’s just what they do to fall asleep.” Ren replied with a smirk.

Sam and Sadie had chuckled lightly at that, while Ian had slowly shaken his head, unable to completely subdue the smile. With a good-natured sigh, Sam had wandered into the room.

“No, actually, what Sadie does to fall asleep is watch the Chinese farm girl.” He supplied.

“The what?” Jack and Cas both frowned.

“Ah! Ohmygod—she’s this wonderful young woman who lives on a farm with her grandparents and a big dog and she does almost all of her cooking in the traditional way of her region!” Sadie began excitedly as Sam pulled up the nearest chair between her and Jack. “The videos are so beautiful. She goes out and does all this—”

“—Oh god, I didn’t mean to get her started.” Sam teased.

She’d turned to shoot him a little scowl, when he’d moved to sit down. The chair was far lower than he’d expected, and so there had been a little “oomf!” when he’d landed. A bit perplexed, he’d looked up to see Sadie towering over him with a cheeky smile.

“Y’alright there, Spaceman?”

“No, he’s clearly never used a chair before.” Ren interjected, joining in on the teasing.

“Ah,” Sadie nodded sagely with mock understanding, “he’s still getting used to these things.”

“Indeed.” Ren replied, imitating Sadie’s nod but unable to subdue a smile.

“Well, you don’t need chairs in outer-space.” Sam countered easily, “Besides, I think I’m the only one in here, other than Cas, that has gone outside today.”

“Psh!” Ian snorted, “Nerd.”

“Yeah, really,” Sadie smirked, “geek-check.”

“How is that a geek-check?!” Sam asked animatedly, noticing the little smile on Cas’s face as he just listened to the banter.

Jack had been much the same as his father. The two of them felt included just by being there, they didn’t have to necessarily take part in the conversation. It occurred to Sam, then, that Jack no longer had people he could listen to like that. He was lonely, not only because he missed his friends and family, but because there was never any conversation anymore. They didn’t feel like a family anymore.

Sam was drunk, now, there was no way around it. He’d gotten up from the riverbank to sit against the Impala, one knee up with his arm slung over it. He wished he could talk to her—to someone. It was torture, here.

A pitiful sob shuddered through him. He lay his head back against the cool metal of the car, eyes closed as he took another long swig of whiskey.

He knew he shouldn’t, but part of him hated her. Part of him hated that she’d let someone drive them apart. He was in such a state that he thought her to be some kind of mutant—how could she be able to walk away like she had? How was he supposed to endure with this kind of pain? He wished he could ask her.

And the worst part was that he didn’t hate her. He loved her—fuck, he loved her—and that’s why it made him so angry. She was perfectly out of reach in every possible way. Even if he did get her back onto Earth and alive, then what? She’d still be stuck on thinking that she ought not act on her feelings because of Chuck.

“Bullshit.” Sam slurred to himself, taking another hit from the bottle before continuing. “You’re a liar, Sadie Eldredge. You’re a fucking liar.”

Somewhere, he began to forget that there was no one else there—that he was alone. He wanted to talk, and he didn’t care if there was no audience. He wanted to talk to her, but he couldn’t, so he talked to the empty world instead.

“How could you possibly believe any of that shit, huh?” He shook his head, pausing to take another sip, “Are you telling me that you—the stubbornest human on the planet—let some fuck talk you out of loving me? Huh? Huh?!”

He sniffled, free hand coming to messily wipe his nose on his sleeve. Shaking his head slowly, he began to feel a belligerence bubbling up inside of him.

“Son of a bitch.” He grumbled, then shouted at the top of his lungs: “SON OF A BITCH!”

Even in his most isolated times, he had never once let himself even consider the idea that he deserved more than he got. She’d changed that.

“Goddamn you, Sadie.” He lay his head back again, tears streaming down his face. “Goddamn you, makin’ me think I could have somethin’ good.”

He shook his head, neck limp and mind foggy.

“This is it?” He asked, voice soft and cracking, “This is what I get? After all that I’ve had to go through, this is what I get? This?! Nothing?!”

He left the bottle on the ground and stumbled to his feet. He marched over to a splintered branch on the ground and snatched it up. He spun and swung it hard, slamming it into a nearby tree trunk. It shattered and he hit it again, shouting wordlessly as he bashed the branch to nothing. With a cry of anguish, he tossed the stump of wood left behind after his tirade into the river.

A new round of sobs overtook him and he fell to his knees. His hands rose to cover his face as he cried, body shaking with each gut-wrenching sob. He pulled them away after a moment to shout into the wilderness.

“WHY?! WHY, HUH?! WHY DO YOU JUST GIVE ME PEOPLE TO LOVE JUST TO TAKE THEM AWAY?!” Sam bellowed through his tears, “WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?! ALL I WANT IS MY FAMILY BACK!”

He devolved into wretched sobs then, his body slumping forward over his knees. He stayed there until he had no more tears left to cry, then cradled his one-fourth-full bottle of whiskey into the backseat of the Impala. Chuck had even took Howie—he’d taken Sam’s fucking goldfish from him. What the hell else was there left for Sam? Just his broken brother and his depressed kid, all of them not knowing what to do with the others. Without his permission, his mind began pondering what it had been like to have their other people around. As he curled himself around his whiskey bottle, he remembered what it was like to not be alone.

She was so warm. He knew that he thought that so much, but she really was a furnace of a woman. She smelled like her orchid shampoo and lavender deodorant, mixed with a subtler, heartier, musky smell that was all-natural. Feeling her flattened beneath his full bodyweight was soothing in a way he would never be able to describe; the fact that she even allowed him do so, let alone asked for it, was stunning. It was a sign of trust, for her—an intimacy she didn’t have the words to describe. She was just so tactile. She was so tactile and she loved having him lay on top of her. He liked it too, because it was a show of her trust, and of her sensitive side—the side of her that needed him. He loved that feeling; he loved feeling needed by her. He loved holding her and murmuring softly into her ear as she giggled into her pillow, or the sofa in the Cave. He loved to have her close; he loved to know that she was safe and within reach.

He was without someone to hold now, and it felt like it was new once more—like it was right after she’d left all over again.

“I’m sorry, Sadie.” He whispered to the silent Impala, voice barely audible enough to be considered aloud. “I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I’m such a selfish bastard. You deserved better than what you got. You…” His voice was barely louder than a breath, “…you deserved better than me.”

He drifted off into sleep, hoping desperately to see her again. No such luck.

* * *

AWAKENING NO. FOUR THE EMPTY ⦸⧮:⧉∞ ∆M

“—NO!” Sadie jerked awake, shooting upright, her stomach turning upside-down as she fell through the mirror lake, losing Sam.

Her gaze took in the scene. Around her, the Empty slowly began to go from a darker maroon to a more vibrant one. Sadie brought her knees up against her chest and leaned her forehead against them, beginning to cry. The soft shuddering of her body and the absolutely misery she felt momentarily made it so she didn’t hear the series of soft clicks from behind her.

The Shadow sat in its throne, watching her as it played solitaire, the cards snapping softly as it set each one down. Still, it looked unimpressed, and more than a little bothered to see her.

“So. Where’d you go this time?” It asked.

Sadie jumped and spun around. As she realized who it was, her body relaxed, tear-tracks on her cheeks and face red with fury. “Give me some privacy, jackass!”

The Shadow raised its brows pointedly, but was ignored. Sadie turned back to face away from it, hiding as she continued to sob.

“Okay, genius,” The Shadow replied snarkily, “in the place where everywhere is nowhere and is infinitely far apart while we all exist in one spot the size of an atom—”

Sadie turned to glare over her shoulder, body shuddering again as she tried to stifle her tears.

“—where exactly d’you expect me to go?” The Shadow set another card down, scowling at her.

“Couldn’t you just—!” Sadie let out a huff, “—Couldn’t you just pretend not to be paying attention to me or something?!”

The Shadow dropped all of its cards down onto the table with a look of exasperation. “What’s the point?”

Sadie sighed in exasperation and took a few beats to just cry. The Shadow continued its game, eyes trained on her with an almost-scowl.

“Why do you care so much?” It asked finally.

Sadie sniffled and furrowed her brow in confusion. “What?”

“Well, at this point I’m assuming, since you go somewhere, you see someone named Sam and you cry every time means that he’s someone important to you.” The Shadow said, not an ounce of sympathy in its voice, but an almost snarky ambivalence. “Is it love?”

The way it said “love” was like the word was disgusting. Sadie let out a humorless snort, still facing away as she carefully wiped her cheeks.

“Isn’t asking me to explain love to you kind of like trying to teach algebra to a horse?” She replied half-heartedly.

“I am much smarter than a horse.” The Shadow replied very seriously.

That made her crack a smile, and she sighed. The Shadow frowned.

“What?” It asked pointedly.

“Nothing.” She shook her head and turned to face it. “You just reminded me of a mutual friend of ours, that’s all.”

“You? And me? A friend in common?—who.” It almost interrupted itself as it asked that question.

“Castiel.” Sadie said, “The angel.”

The Shadow narrowed its eyes “Castiel is not my friend.”

Sadie subdued a snort at that, simply smiling a bit melancholically to herself. “I miss him.”

The Shadows wrinkled its nose. “I don’t. Annoying little gnat. I’m glad this time he’s nice and quiet.”

“Wait,” Sadie stood, “he’s here?”

The Shadow nodded, “Yeah.”

“Are the Winchesters? Jack Kline?” Sadie asked.

“No, the nephilim and the Winchesters are still on Earth.”

Sadie glanced away, her eyes flickering around as she put pieces together. “So they’re just… alone?”

The Shadow nodded as though this were an obvious answer. “I wish I were them.”

Sadie frowned, shaking her head a little. “I don’t understand that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to.” The Shadow replied flatly.

Sadie thought for a long moment then said, “But I do know what it’s like to want to sleep all the time.”

The Shadow glanced up from its game of solitaire.

“I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately.” Sadie looked down at the hands in her lap.

There was a long pause and then the Shadow spoke. “Is this where I’m supposed to ask why?”

Sadie rolled her eyes and decided to give up on talking to it for a little while. With a sigh, she turned to face sideways away from the Shadow.

“What, are you not talking to me, now?” The Shadow snapped.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you.”

“Well I don’t.”

“Then good!”

There was another long moment of silence.

“Why do you want to sleep all the time?” The Shadow asked, acting like it didn’t really care about the answer.

Sadie glanced up at it, cocking her head slightly. “Because I’m sad.”

“Why are you sad?” It asked in the same tone.

“Chuck.” Sadie replied, staring off into the distance.

The Shadow paused at that, glancing up at her profile. It didn’t ask another question, just went back to its game of solitaire.

[raspberry-starship]

700k+ word fic series

READ ON AO3 or READ ON TUMBLR

Highlights:

1. Charlie lives! 2. We give Jack friends 3. Sam has a goldfish 4. No more co-dependent Winchesters 5. Dean Winchester examines his feelings for once 6. Sam talks about his trauma & actually deals with it 7. Dean is held accountable for his actions 8. Cas adopts any and all orphans he comes across 9. Cas and Dean are gay 10. Slow burns all around 11. Dean chooses not to pass on trauma from his father to his surrogate kids 12. Sam actually gets to be mad about Dean letting Gadreel possess him 13. Lesbians with swords 14. Bisexuals with issues 15. Dean calls Cas "sunshine" at any and all opportunities 16. Apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle has a gf 17. Amara actually gets a good ending 18. Big found family :) 19. They/them angel

RATING: mature/explicit WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence :) CATEGORIES: F/M, F/F, M/M RELATIONSHIPS: [Sam/original character], [Charlie/original character], [Dean/Cas], [Jack, Sam, Dean & Cas], [Dean & another wayward teenager in need of a mentor], [Jack & original characters], [apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle/original female character], and a special focus on dismantling the codependence of the Winchesters. Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Chuck, Amara, Rowena, Charlie (original flavor), Missouri <3 (also doesn't die), apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle, both versions of Michael, Adam, a they/them angel and a couple other original characters for spice.

Summary: This series that strives to solve the Winchesters' codependency as well as include more women and queer characters in the Supernatural universe that do not get brutally murdered.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

EIGHT DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION GUSTINE, CALIFORNIA 09:34 AM - 07:46 PM

Progress was slow for Ren. She did not know how to hot-wire a car, and even if she did, the debris in the roads, especially in the cities, was too much to drive through. It had taken her almost a day and a half to make it to shore, where she landed in Monterey, California, and gotten her first taste of the empty world. It was eerie. She slept that night, the sixth night since her exile, on the boat, then bid it goodbye the next morning.

Her stops had been purely for gathering resources. At a convenience store, she’d gotten food and water and a map. She’d traced out her route and began walking. There was a massive Walmart eventually, where she had no qualms with stealing a backpack, some clothes, more water, and non-perishables. Before she left, though, she made a stop in the arts and crafts section. Her feet were slow as she meandered down the aisles, surveilling all her options until she found a satisfactory sketchbook with a set of V5 pens, a three-pack of erasers, and five mechanical pencils. She continued on her journey, stopping to take more water and food when she ran out and sleeping in different places.

Eventually, she came across an REI, which was where she, for the first time since finding that boat, felt a rush of happiness. Inside the store, she found a bigger backpack, hiking boots, hiking pants and a hat she could wear. She also snagged a couple big Nalgenes, and two bottles of bleach for cleaning water—when she had been young, her father had taught her all about this stuff on their backpacking trips.

From her map, she knew that she would soon reach Yosemite, where there would be less shelter available, so she found a tarp in case of rain (lightweight and small, so it wouldn’t take up too much space), a mat and a sleeping bag. She stuffed the backpack to the brim, including a hat and gloves in case it got cold, and a set of rain pants and rain coat. For good measure, she got rid of some of the Walmart clothes and collected a few good pairs of wool socks, some long underwear, a good leather belt, two extra sets of hiking pants, a couple Henleys, some not-too egregious sunglasses and the fanciest Swiss-Army knife she would’ve never been able to afford otherwise. The rest of the space in the bag was filled with a set of lighters, a little stove with three canisters of gas, many bags of dehydrated meals, and as many granola bars as she could squeeze in around the sides of the backpack’s big pocket.

She did one more sweep of the place, to see if there was anything else she missed, then came upon the wool socks again. With a sigh, she grabbed yet another pair and made her way out. Her jacket, which was the only thing that had survived her trip into the ocean, was folded at the bottom of her backpack. She thanked her past-self profusely for becoming emotionally attached to a faux-leather jacket, which made its sustained submersion in briny water a damaging but non-fatal excursion.

After that, it was only a couple minutes before she found a hunting store, advertising the sale of guns. America, she thought tiredly, before walking in through the still-unlocked front door. The bell above the doorway jingled as she stepped inside, and the silence that followed was haunting.

There was, much to her surprise and delight, a large selection of blades there as well. She first grabbed a sharpening stone, breaking it out of its plastic packaging as she surveilled the machete options. Dropping the plastic on the floor and tucking the round stone into a side-pocket of her pack, she moved to examine a machete that had caught her eye. It was elegant, with a black grip handle, and a gentle curve to the silver blade, the end of which was a bit bulbous. She picked it up and felt its weight in her hand. Smiling at the balance, she went and grabbed the sheath before slipping it onto her belt.

She then moved to the front of the store, pausing at the counter with her hands on her hips to sigh at the vast array of weapons available. After thinking some more about how strange it was to be in this place, she moved towards the door.

As she was leaving then, she paused, seeing a hand gun on display in the glass case they used as a counter. It was a silver Colt M1911, whose label said it was engraved by someone named Alistair E. C. Toussaint. Acanthus leaves curved around the bolts holding the weapon together and down the barrel, elegant in their integration into the metal. The trigger had three holes in it as an accentuation, and the handle’s grip was dark mother of pearl.

She took a long breath in, staring at it. With a woeful shake of her head, she moved around the case to remove the gun and test its weight. It was perfect. In all of her years working with the Winchesters, she had never found a weapon she felt suitably connected to outside of the machete, but this gun—it was the one for her. She put her bag down and filled a side-pocket with six boxes of .45 caliber bullets, each with twenty-one rounds, except for the last one, which only had fourteen. She loaded the clip and slapped the magazine into the gun, just like how Dean had shown her all those years ago, and stood. She made her way to leave again, then caught sight of a black, leather holster. She sighed and grabbed it as well, slipping it on under her open button-down before shouldering her pack again. Now, she was ready.

With a shitty plastic compass from the rack of dollar-value items in the front of a tackle shop in one hand and her map in the other, she began making her way towards Yosemite. She kept her phone in her backpack too, though she knew it was long done-for. The thing she missed the most as she walked was music. And weed. She consoled herself by touching the keyring in her pocket, where there was a copy of the key to the Bunker, reminding herself that she had a large stash there, and her laptop with all her music. And also her friends and surrogate family, but that was a given. She continued on.

The roads became much less covered in debris as she began walking along route 120, through Yosemite. She gathered water from streams, filtering out dirt with a bandana from a four-pack she’d also stolen from Walmart. Every couple days, she washed in the freezing cold of a nearby body of water, using the biodegradable soap she’d also taken from Walmart and kept in a plastic bag. Instead of carrying around toilet paper, she had stopped at a CVS and grabbed two six-packs of those little portable Kleenex packages her father had always stuck into her backpack at the beginning of the school year. She’d also taken a tooth brush, a big thing of toothpaste (with a small one for backup), and a three-pack of chapstick—she knew that she would lose it if she just took one.

At night, she dreamt of strange things. Sometimes it was a hellhound chasing her through the over-world, other times it was a dark version of Jack, like from the vision she had been given by Zophiel. Occasionally Amara would make an appearance, either as a vengeful goddess of destruction, or a benevolent guide, encouraging Ren in her quest.

The only voice Ren heard was her own as she walked, singing as much of songs as she could remember. The world was quiet outside of her—there were no animals, only the sounds of wind, water and the occasional creak of a tree. Ren wondered how long this would take—would she go mad before she got to Lebanon? Every time she began to think like that, she would start to sing another song.

Her voice was a soft, scratchy and untrained alto, constantly changing keys to make songs sung by others accessible to her vocal cords with varying success. Singing made her think of Sadie, and wonder where she was. Every night, when Ren rested, she would take out her sketchbook to go back and forth between journalling and drawing, the leaves and untouched landscape of Yosemite providing ample inspiration.

It was now the seventh day since Chuck had thrown her into the ocean. Every morning, she was surprised and delighted to find herself still on solid land, and alone, having not been discovered by the spiteful god who sought to torture her.

On that seventh night, she sung one of her favorite songs. It reminded her of the way her father used to talk about her mother. Ren had never known her mother but she had made a rather large impression through the couple times her father spoke of her. Nadine Mancini had been her name.

Where, where do you go, When the light leaves your eyes, And you’re just out of reach, like a tree-bound kite? What’s on your mind, as you’re staring behind, And I’m on my own, in your arms, tonight?

Ooh, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, Off she goes.

Where, where do you go When the tears leave your eyes, When you feel that burn I know words can’t describe? Where, where do you go? Remember when you told me, Remember when you told me?

Her voice trailed off, eyes staring into the small fire she had burning in front of her. She hugged her knees to her chest and wondered if Nadine was in heaven. She wondered if her father was, for that matter, then decided that they must be, unless Chuck really was an absolutely heartless bastard. Jury was still out on that one.

There was a crack of a twig near her. She froze, hand going to the machete lying beside her. She turned to look around—that was the first sound she’d heard in a long time that had not come from her. Inside her chest, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. Something moved behind a tree across the fire from her. She left the machete where it was and grabbed her gun, situating it in her hands before calling out.

“Who’s there?” She asked, hand tightening its grip on the gun’s handle.

A figure stepped out from the woods, walking into the clearing and into the light. It was a familiar, female-presenting Filipino with a lavender trench coat. They smiled at Ren, their knee-high brown leather boots coming to a halt about ten feet from her.

“Hello, Renna.”

Slowly, the gun lowered into Ren’s lap, her eyes wide and her lips parted in surprise.

“Zophiel?”

* * *

EIGHT DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION LEBANON, KANSAS 01:43 PM

Dean was going to be day-drunk again. He was shuffling around the Bunker in his gray bathrobe and pajama pants, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a hunch in his shoulders. He was on his way back to his room from the garage when he came upon bunk 25. For some reason, he found himself stopping to stare at the brass numbers. With a sigh, he turned the doorknob.

His hand snaked into the room to switch on the light, then fell back to his side. He stood there, fingers still hanging off the doorknob and stared into the room. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust, and it was oddly quiet. But, it smelled like it always had—the smokey hint of joints, the chemical sting of art supplies, the warmth of cinnamon and vanilla candles, and the cool scent of her sweet pea perfume. Her desk chair was pulled out, like someone had recently been sitting there.

He walked over to look at the sketchbook that still lay open on her desk. She had been sketching random stuff there, on the last page filled before she vanished—some flowers, a set of hand studies that vaguely looked like they might be Jack’s, etc.

Dean looked down to his left, and saw the desk drawer was open ever so slightly. With a little squeak of protest from the wood, he pulled it all the way out, looking at the things she’d kept inside. There were some letters in their envelopes, a glass trinket of some sort, a little compact mirror and, most notably, a beautiful, round, rusting, silver-colored tin on a leather string. Dean pulled it out and pressed the button on the top. It popped open to reveal a compass.

The glass face was a bit dirty, and the ocean waves engraved around the dial were crusted with some kind of gunk, but it was still beautiful. On the inside cover, there was an inscription.

“We are searching for some kind of harmony between two intangibles: a form which we have not yet designed and a context we cannot properly describe.” - Christopher Alexander

Dean wondered what that had to do with a compass, but then he remembered all Ren had told him about her father, and his many eccentricities. When they had first met, the witch stalking Ren had stolen this from her. After Dean had recovered it and brought it back to her, she had explained its significance to her.

“My father gave this to me a couple months before he got sick. He gave it to me and said that his father had given him one like it when he was my age. He said one of his students had shown him the quote inside, and ever since it had always made him think of me.” She had looked up at Dean then, “I can’t thank you enough for getting this back to me.”

Dean’s thumb wiped across the surface of the compass, trying to clean it a bit. The grease from his finger only made matters worse. With a sigh, he turned and walked out of the bunk 25 to the storeroom he’d turned into makeshift workshop. That day, the bottle of whiskey was left with its cork loosely in for a couple hours on the worktable corner, out of reach and out of mind. He focused all of his energy into fixing up the compass, using the metal cleaner he found in a back cabinet and an old toothbrush he kept around to clean various hardware. When he was done, and giving the glass a final wipe with a non-static cloth, he awoke from his trance.

For a long moment, he sat on the stool in silence, staring at the compass’ quivering pointer. Thinking of Ren’s family always made Dean feel a complex wave of emotions. Similar to him, her mother had died when she was young, and she had been raised by her father. He had taught her to ride a bike on the street in front of their house, and taken her on backpacking trips all over the Appalachian mountains. Meanwhile, Dean had to learn how to ride a bike from a kid he met in one of the many motels where his father left he and Sam. Dean’s sole reason for learning to ride a bike was because he knew that Sam would need to know one day, and he would have to teach him.

Sean Toivonen had been a writer and an academic, working at Yale as a professor of literary theory, fluent in Latin and Greek. He had taught Ren so many things—weird, foreign things like those Sam had to learn for himself and John Winchester would never have dreamed of teaching to either of his sons. Mr. Toivonen though, had above all, loved his daughter very much. In some ways, Dean was jealous of Ren for this—for being so cherished and encouraged by her father instead of being molded and commanded—but he did not envy the pain that came along with losing one’s only supporter at such a vulnerable age.

Like his regrets for Cas, Dean’s guilt over his treatment of Ren after Mary’s death haunted him. Again, it didn’t make a difference that she had forgiven him fully—the image of her sobbing as he yelled at her was vivid in his mind’s eye. He didn’t know what label he’d put on his relationship with her—whether he thought of her as a niece, or a kid, or a mentee of some kind, but it didn’t matter. Whatever she was, she had meant a lot to him and he missed her now, just like he had when she’d stopped answering their calls after New York, and during the time she left the Bunker after fighting with him. The unresolved nature of it all made him go around and around in circles.

He wanted to hug her. He didn’t often want to hug people. He wished he could make her look at him with those big, hopeful eyes like when he’d told her they were going to get Jack back. He wished he could have spent more time memorizing the moment when she’d hugged him tightly. He wished that she was around, because… because something about having to make sure she was staying on-track helped him stay on-track himself. Knowing that she was watching, and knowing that she was learning from him made him act like the kind of man he wanted to be; it made him the kind of role-model he thought she deserved.

“Hey.” A tense voice called to Dean from the doorway into the workshop. Dean’s head jerked up to see Jack standing in the doorway with a little scowl on his face.

Dean sighed, closing the compass on the table with one hand—it was hidden from Jack’s view by the clutter of things on the workbench.

“Hey, Jack.” Dean began casually, “What’re you, uh, up to?” He rubbed one of his eyes.

“Did you go into Ren’s room?” Jack asked pointedly.

Dean blinked, taking a moment to process this then nodded. “Uh, yeah, why?”

“Did you move something?” Jack stepped inside, his voice taking a bit more of an angry tone.

Dean’s hand carefully pulled the compass off the table and slid it into his bathrobe pocket. “Why?” He asked slowly, eyes on Jack as he approached.

“Because,” Jack spoke through his teeth, “it isn’t your stuff to move around.”

Dean wanted to say something biting in response, but he just stood—he was too tired to fight. “Alright, I won’t go in there anymore.”

His hand grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle when another force held it still. He turned to see Jack holding the bottom of the bottle and scowling up at Dean.

He sighed, “Jack, let go.”

“No.” Jack almost growled, “You have to give back what you took from her desk.”

Right then, a sudden rush of emotion overtook Dean, washing away any weariness that might’ve been hindering him.

“You think you’re the only one allowed to miss her?!” He shouted suddenly, making Jack lean back a bit in surprise. “You think you’re the only one who cares about her?! I’ve known her since before you were born, alright?! I miss her too! You don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do! You are not the guardian of her stuff, Jack!”

Jack’s grip on the whiskey had loosened ever so slightly during this, allowing Dean to yank it to his person. For a long, tense moment, he and Jack just stared at each other, then Dean turned on his heel and began walking around the other side of the workbench. As he reached the front of the room, he pulled the compass out of his pocket and slammed it onto the table.

“Here.” He snapped at a mutter, before turning and marching out of the room.

Dean wondered vaguely as he stormed off why it was different with Jack—why couldn’t he rally himself to be Jack’s role-model, too? Was it because he was just too broken to be a good influence? Was it because the man he tried to be was a facade, and he was really just not good enough to be a decent parent? He didn’t know. He didn’t know where he began and where his imitating John Winchester stopped. He didn’t know why he was such a failure—still a failure, even to the kid he had left.

Jack stood there, in Dean’s wake, just staring at the compass on the table. In the hall, there was the squeak of the cork coming out of the bottle as Dean began drinking. Ashamed of how he’d let his anger drive him, Jack grew sad again, no longer hopped up on the adrenaline of yelling at Dean. He wandered over to the compass and opened it. His long, crooked fingers traced the engraved ocean waves, noticing how clean it looked. A heavier guilt over his treatment of Dean made him bow his head.

Jack wondered then how he and Dean could be missing the same two people so much while never talking about it. Had it been Sam missing Cas and Ren so much, Jack would’ve had an easier time talking about it, but Dean was another story. Dean had lost everything and something more—both Jack and Sam could tell that there was something else eating at him. Though, if his track record was any indication, they would likely not know what he was so torn up over until it nearly killed him.

On top of his grief, now Jack felt worried. As he made his way towards the garage, still holding the compass, the feelings began to fade. Before he knew it, he was back to numbness and silence. All was quiet, and all of them were alone.

[raspberry-starship]

700k+ word fic series

READ ON AO3 or READ ON TUMBLR

Highlights:

1. Charlie lives! 2. We give Jack friends 3. Sam has a goldfish 4. No more co-dependent Winchesters 5. Dean Winchester examines his feelings for once 6. Sam talks about his trauma & actually deals with it 7. Dean is held accountable for his actions 8. Cas adopts any and all orphans he comes across 9. Cas and Dean are gay 10. Slow burns all around 11. Dean chooses not to pass on trauma from his father to his surrogate kids 12. Sam actually gets to be mad about Dean letting Gadreel possess him 13. Lesbians with swords 14. Bisexuals with issues 15. Dean calls Cas "sunshine" at any and all opportunities 16. Apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle has a gf 17. Amara actually gets a good ending 18. Big found family :) 19. They/them angel

RATING: mature/explicit WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence :) CATEGORIES: F/M, F/F, M/M RELATIONSHIPS: [Sam/original character], [Charlie/original character], [Dean/Cas], [Jack, Sam, Dean & Cas], [Dean & another wayward teenager in need of a mentor], [Jack & original characters], [apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle/original female character], and a special focus on dismantling the codependence of the Winchesters. Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Chuck, Amara, Rowena, Charlie (original flavor), Missouri <3 (also doesn't die), apocalypseverse Jo Harvelle, both versions of Michael, Adam, a they/them angel and a couple other original characters for spice.

Summary: This series that strives to solve the Winchesters' codependency as well as include more women and queer characters in the Supernatural universe that do not get brutally murdered.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

SIX DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION LEBANON, KANSAS 11:33 AM

The library was silent except for the sound of Sam’s fingers turning the heavy page of an old manuscript. The quiet surrounding the whole Bunker was interrupted when there was a loud crash in the kitchen. Sam looked up, brow furrowed and wondering if he ought to go check it out.

“Son of a—!” The distant voice of his brother snapped, then began bellowing. “SON OF A BITCH!”

Sam straightened a bit, and then heard another loud clattering of pans. “Alright, that’s it.” He muttered to himself as he got up.

When he walked into the kitchen, it seemed empty. There was a broken glass on the ground, and a couple of the pans looked like they’d been knocked off the hooks by force. He opened his mouth to call out to his brother when he heard a sniffle. The expression melted off his face, and he stepped over the threshold.

“Dean?” He asked softly, approaching the island with caution.

There was a snort as someone tried to sober up. “I’m fine, Sammy.” He said in his best imitation of an “okay” Dean.

Sam stopped where he was, unable to see his brother. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, his back to the island counter that separated them.

“Dean, I know that’s not true.” He replied gently, speaking just loud enough for Dean to hear.

“What do you want me to say, Sam?” Dean snapped, “What? That I’m angry—of course I’m angry!”

Sam took a deep breath, looking down at his hands for a moment. He was unsure of what to say to get Dean to open up. Honestly, he had never seen Dean like this before, not even when he had decided that nothing mattered because Chuck was making all the choices for them. No, this was something different, this was… this was a tortured Dean. That was the best word Sam could come up with.

“I don’t think you’re just angry, Dean.” Sam said softly.

There was another indignant sniff from the other side of the island, followed by a long moment of silence.

“I’m not.” Sam added. “I’m… Dean, I’m so sad.”

On the other side of the island, Dean put his head into his hands. The last thing he needed was for Sam to start crying—that would make Dean even more inconsolable than he already was.

“I feel so empty.” Sam continued, “Like there’s nothing left.”

Dean bit back an unhelpful response of “well there is nothing left”, and instead just listened.

“All the people…” Sam shook his head woefully, his eyes glassy. “…it was a no-win scenario for us either way but… I can’t help wondering what it would‘ve been like if we’d just…”

He didn’t need to finish that thought, because he knew that Dean had been thinking the same thing.

“I want—” Sam swallowed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, “—I want more than anything to just do the opposite of everything that Chuck wants but… I don’t even know what he wants anymore. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Dean nodded in silent agreement, looking at the floor between his slippers.

“Is this what the rest of our lives are going to be like?” Sam wondered softly, “Is this really all that our lives have amounted to?”

Dean bowed his head as a new tear fell to the patch of floor he’d been staring at.

“I just… I just feel cheated.” Sam said, a tear of his own slipping out onto his cheek. “We deserve better. It’s just so… so unfair.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, and they shared a long moment of silence, beside one another but still back-to-back.

“I always thought there would be more time.” Dean finally spoke, his voice shaky.

Sam turned his head eagerly to listen—he hadn’t expected Dean to say anything at all.

“Before, I always thought that I’d die guns blazing, and that would be what I deserved but now…” Dean let out a shaky sigh, “… now I’m… thinking about all the things that I wanted to do—deep, deep down—and none of them are going to happen.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to make too much noise as he began crying in earnest.

“I am going to live the rest of my life, like this.” Dean said slowly, “I’m going to die in this goddamn bathrobe in this goddamn coffin with the two of you and my life will have meant nothing at all.”

There was a soft shuffling in the hallway. They both looked up to see Jack stopping in front of the door, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He frowned and stepped towards them.

“Hey, Jack.” Dean and Sam said at the same time, the both of them turning back to look at their hands in sync too.

Jack’s face grew worried, and then he noticed the broken glass on the ground. “I’ll clean this up.” He said softly.

“No, no, hey!” Dean got up, his voice gentle. He sniffed, quickly wiping his face clean of tears and avoiding Jack’s gaze. “Lemme do that, it’s my mess.”

Sam stood as well, cracking the knuckles in one of his hands absently. “How’re you, uh, doing, Jack?”

Dean walked between them to get the broom.

“I’m fine.” Jack replied emotionlessly.

They didn’t know it, but at the same time, both Dean and Sam had the same thought: I know where that comes from.

“No, you’re not, kid.” Dean said, patting him on the shoulder as he passed by again. “None of us are.” And then he went on to sweep up the glass. That response made Sam blink in surprise at his brother, then he turned back to Jack.

“Yeah, no, Dean’s right.” He forced one of those, tight, sad smiles, “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“Well I didn’t say I was ‘okay’, I said I was fine.” Jack replied, making Dean pause to look at him too. Jack swallowed and avoided both of the Winchesters’ eyes. “I don’t feel anything at all most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” Sam asked gently.

“Yeah.” Jack nodded, staring down at the ground, “Most of the time.”

Dean straightened with the dustpan, now full of glass shards, and looked at his brother. “Hey, uh, Sammy, why don’t you guys grab something to eat. We could, uh… sit together.”

Again, Sam blinked, taken aback by his brother. “Oh—okay.” He nodded.

They worked in almost complete silence as they each made their own lunches. Soon, they were sitting around the table, Jack and Dean on one side and Sam across from them. After a little while of sitting, the thing in Jack’s pocket started to poke his hip through his pants, so he went to fish it out. When his hand resurfaced, it dropped Castiel’s keyring on the table beside his plate. Jack immediately turned back to eating the sandwich he had prepared, but Dean was frozen in place, just staring at the keys. Sam glanced up, caught Dean staring, and then frowned.

“Dean?” He asked gently.

“Huh?” Dean looked up at his brother, then turned to see Jack was staring at him too. “Oh, I’m—” He waved a hand, “—it’s—I’m good.”

Sam and Jack shared a look of disbelief as Dean tried to go back to eating peacefully. Even as he tried his hardest not to stare at them, he could still see the keys on the table between him and Jack, at the edge of his vision, and they kept capturing his attention no matter what he did. Jack noticed this, and thought for a long moment.

Carefully, he picked up the keyring, and began removing one of the keys. The car had come with two, when Cas had bought it off a used car lot, and it seemed that in all of his infinite wisdom, he hadn’t realized one was meant to be a spare, left at home in case he lost the first one. Jack took one key off the ring and then stared at it for a moment. It was such an innocuous thing, but he was still hesitant to part with it. Then he turned and held his hand out to Dean, offering him the spare.

Dean looked from it up to Jack and then back down at the key with an expression Jack had never seen before. A very small, very tired smile rested on Dean’s face as he took the key from Jack’s palm.

“Thanks, kid.” He said softly before turning back to his food and slipping the key into his bathrobe’s pocket.

Knowing that he had made Dean happy made Jack smile, and then it made Sam smile as he watched the both of them. Jack turned to face forwards again, sharing a soft look with Sam. It was a fleeting moment of happiness, but Jack would take anything he could—any feeling that wasn’t emptiness was a change, and any change was welcome.

* * *

SEVEN DAYS AFTER THE EXTERMINATION SOMEWHERE 12:48 AM

Sam was walking down a corridor. It was dark and gray, with very little detail. He wondered vaguely where he might be, but he never stopped moving towards a door at the end of the hallway. He walked and walked but the door never got closer. Suddenly, he stopped.

The world had shifted to a hotel, with graphic wall-to-wall carpeting and imitation wood doors. He was standing in front of room 20. He didn’t knock, he just went right in. A Keane song was playing—which one, he didn’t know, but he recognized the singer’s voice by now.

He turned the corner into the main part of the room. The far wall was gone, leading right into a tropical beach. He glanced around until he saw someone perched on the arm of a chair, her back to him. She was adjusting an earring, her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders. Something signaled her to his presence, and she turned to glance over her shoulder at him. With a big smile, she dropped her hands into her lap.

“You look good in a penguin suit, Spaceman.” She commented, eyeing him up and down. He glanced down, realizing that indeed, he was wearing a black tuxedo.

She straightened from the white armchair she’d been sitting on, standing fully to face him. A floor-length purple gown hung around her, all the details of it foggy except for the spaghetti straps and low-cut front. In one hand, she was carrying a pair of black heels. The whole look made him swallow thickly.

“I was going to make fun of you for what clothes you put me in, but now that I know it’s a little obli-gala fantasy, I can dig it.” She walked over to him, a sweet smile on her face as she teased.

“I don’t—” He began when she ghosted the knuckle of her index finger across his cheek. It seemed so real—why was it so vivid? When her hand left his skin, he was able to continue, “—I don’t know what that means.”

She snorted with laughter, “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. It’s this trope where the two characters that are in love but haven’t figured it out yet just so ‘happen’ to need to go somewhere ‘fancy’ so they can both get dressed up and maybe dance with each other.”

He slid a hand around her waist, smiling though still a bit bewildered, “I see.”

“Mm.” Her hands slid up his chest then neck, coming to cup his face tenderly. “How are you, Sam?”

He let out a sigh, then wrapped his other arm around her, gathering her up against him in a tight hug. A gentle hand ran up and down his neck, while the other hugged him back. After a moment, he pulled away, hands gliding up to cup her face. Slowly, he bowed his head to press against hers. A shaky breath moved through him, and he kept his eyes closed, one of her hands coming to gently hold his wrist. He wanted the touch he was dreaming of to be real, but for now, this would do.

Frankly, he was feeling like anything would do, and he knew that this was dangerous. At this point, he was so starved for her touch that he would do anything to remotely feel it. This wasn’t good—he ought not to get so attached to a fantasy. He shouldn’t fall into the dream and forget reality, because the pain from coming back out was almost unbearable.

“Are you going to keep showing up like this?” He murmured to her, wincing at the ghost of her fingers tucking some hair behind his ear.

“So long as you still want me to.” She whispered back.

He opened his eyes to see her already peering up at him longingly. In that moment, he wondered why she would look at him like that—how could she miss him if she didn’t exist? How does her nonexistence not make these dreams hollow?

“How are you, Sam?” She asked, pulling away. Her shoes had disappeared, and so had his coat.

“Who cares?” He found himself replying, tugged along by the weightless hold of her hand on his, leading them to the beach.

“I do.” She replied indignantly.

“But you’re not real.” Was his weak protest, all of him desperate to melt into her.

“What does it matter, anyways?” She sighed, coming to a halt on the sand, staring out at the ocean.

Her face was a barely-contained wound, the expression of sadness she was trying to cover only half-disguised.

“None of this…” He shook his head slightly, staring at her profile, “…none of this is real.”

She smiled weakly, glancing up at him. “What is real?”

He let out a laugh, glancing away and shaking his head with a knowing smile.

“I mean, what makes things in life real?” She said, “How do you decide if something is real?”

“I touch it with my hands.” He replied, turning back to her.

She let out a soft snort of laughter, “Makes sense.”

“Is that a criticism?” He smirked, watching her stare out at the view.

“No, you’ll know when I’m criticizing you.” She teased back, glancing up at him. “So, you touch it with your hands. You feel it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as an example, pain, is a feeling, right? You’d say that can occur from touching something.”

“I… guess…?” He frowned.

“But it’s all in our minds.” She said, “Our brains translate outside stimuli for us—sight, sound, touch, et cetera. If we did not have brains, we would not perceive things.”

“Okay.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, beginning to wander down the beach.

“So, who’s to say this is any less real than reality? I mean if feelings when we’re awake are all experienced in the brain, then why are dream experiences inherently invalid? All of them happen in our minds.” She shrugged, walking beside him, “I mean, it’s not the reality that we used to experience together, but it’s a… new one.”

He let out a soft, humorless sigh with a similarly humorless smile. “I’m sure you would see it like that.”

“Well, who’s to say that my existence isn’t dependent on your perception of me? Maybe we only exist because we are perceived by something else. Maybe the me that you have in your head is the me that mattered all along.” She hiked up her dress to dip her toes into the water. “Maybe I only exist here because you’re the only one who remembers me.”

The scene had changed again without his noticing. They were standing beside a lake that seemed empty—like there ought to be more people than just the two of them. It was in a bend in the shoreline, creating a little cove-like area. They were surrounded by giant boulders, with only a small patch of sand leading into the water, where she was currently dipping her toes. His hand reached out suddenly to take her by the arm, making her turn back to him. He couldn’t help the mild roughness in his handling of her, but they both knew it was a symptom of his barely-contained desperation.

“The you that matters doesn’t live in my head.” He said, brow furrowed and tone firm, “The you that matters is the you that is you, outside of me, outside of everything! The you that matters is the you that is only you, and not my… interpretation of you.”

She smiled up at him, half adoring half mischievous

“You’ve already thought of a response to frustrate me, haven’t you?” He asked softly, trying to hold back his own smile.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

He shook his head, beaming, “Well, save it. I’m sick of being existential, Keirkegaard.”

“Oh, and do tell me who was that?” She asked sarcastically with a laugh, leaning into him.

“He was a…” Sam paused then shook his head, “…he was just some guy.”

“Psh!” She laughed, “Aren’t we all?”

He smiled, staring down into her face for a long moment. He could almost see her—almost see the details of her. His mind must’ve been filling in the pieces because somewhere he knew that he couldn’t really see her face. He just sort of knew what he would see if this was real. He took a moment then to remind himself again that it was not. A powerful voice in his subconscious then asked: “who the fuck cares?” The ghost of her hand on his cheek pulled him from his thoughts and back to her.

“What?” She murmured, in response to his staring, cocking her head.

“Can I not just look at you?” He replied with a smile.

She shrugged, “Well, I guess you can, I’m not here to limit you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the permission.” He teased, making her smile again as her thumb brushed his cheek.

“Anytime, Spaceman.” She murmured, staring up at him for a moment. “You make me happy, you know that?”

The expression melted off of his face.

“You make me so happy.”

She smiled, and in his mind, he knew that if this were real, she would’ve started crying. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that she didn’t.

“You…” He swallowed, looking down at their intertwined hands, “…you make me… happy too.”

Internally, he winced, knowing that wasn’t a ringing endorsement. When his guilty gaze rose up to look at her, she didn’t seem upset. She was staring at him with a patient sort of smile.

“I want to… but… but I can’t…” He paused, trying to come up with the right words, “…I can’t be happy.”

“Yes, you can.” She cooed, brows furrowing in concern.

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head, gentle but firm. “I can’t because I caused you and everyone else on the planet to be erased.”

She shrugged, “I know, but that’s not something you can’t fix.”

“But how?” He sighed, stepping away to run a hand through his hair, staring out at the view in frustration. “I have absolutely no idea where to search for answers.”

She looked on sympathetically, then shuffled over to wrap her arms around his ribs, hugging him from behind. He closed his eyes as she pressed her cheek to the thin material of his shirt, the skin of his shoulder blades tingling under the pressure of her. He took a deep breath and the shift of their skin almost touching his made a phantom shiver run up his spine. None of it was real, so none of the physical interactions were actually being felt, but they were so close to the sensations he would get from reality.

“I wish I knew what to tell you.” She murmured, her face nuzzling slowly against his shoulder.

A pang of longing made his body lurch ever so slightly. That felt real—it felt so real that somewhere he knew that was a physical response in the real world to stimuli he was receiving in his mind alone.

“I wish I could help you.” She whispered, hands shifting on his stomach.

He sighed, body slumping a bit. “I know.”

Of course he knew that she wanted to help—that was what she always wanted to do.

“I wish…” She paused, then tightened her grip on him, “…I wish I hadn’t left.”

His face fell, “Sadie, it’s okay.”

She shook her head stubbornly, the shift of it tickling his back, hiding her face as she replied as though ashamed.

“Stupid Chuck with his stupid games.”

Sam raised a hand, covering the two of hers that were now on his sternum.

“Should’a known.”

He let out a humorless snort, “What, you think you can see through lies God tells you?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s just some guy.” She replied, hands moving to tug him a bit closer. “He’s just some guy.”

He smiled sadly, repeating back to her, “Aren’t we all?”

She shook her head, “No. You’re not.”

He felt himself roll his eyes, as if she were making his life harder with her kindness—like she was making it more difficult for him to let go.

“You’re not some guy because you don’t pretend to be greater than you are.” She said, “You have humility and heart. Chuck is some guy. He doesn’t have those things. He doesn’t have compassion. He doesn’t know what it means to hurt, and struggle, and overcome like you do. He has hunger, and that’s it.”

Sam sighed against her, “Do you write these things down before you say them, or are you really just that good?”

She smiled, and he could feel it on his skin. “You flatter me.”

“You started it.” He replied, voice low.

“Are you complaining? You forget that I live in here now.” She gently tapped his head with one finger. “I know you like hearing me talk about you like that.”

He chuckled softly, lifting her hands away to turn around in her embrace. When he faced her again, she was smiling up at him, arms still looped around his waist.

“I never said that I didn’t.” He replied, cupping her cheek with one hand. “I just wish I was better at talking like that.”

“I don’t mind.” She shrugged, “I like makin’ you blush, Lawboy.”

“Yeah, y’know, I’ve noticed that.” He laughed, and he could feel the heat in his face as he raised his other hand to cup her cheek.

“And before you ask,” She murmured, “I say those things because you deserve to hear them. Don’t you forget it.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and the image shifted. His consciousness screamed in protest, but it was too late—the dream was gone. For a long moment after he woke, he lay still, eyes closed and breathing slow, trying to will himself back into the reverie. He didn’t know how much time passed like that, but eventually, his alarm went off. There was no getting back to the dream now, he knew that.

He sat up, legs hanging over the side of his bed. When his toes touched the cold floor, he was reminded of what real touch felt like. Everything she’d done in that dream had felt real in the moment, but looking back, it was all just ideas. His subconscious or whatever was imagining things for him—imagining what he wished could be real. Instead, he lived in this empty room, in this empty bunker, in this empty town, in this empty state, in this empty country, in this empty continent, in this absolutely empty world.

* * *

AWAKENING NO. TWO THE EMPTY ⦵⊿:⧃∞ AΣ

The Shadow sat in an obsidian throne, a gilded goblet of chardonnay in one hand and an unimpressed look on its face. At its feet lay the object of its current focus: an unmoving pile of fabric, hair, and limbs, laying flat on nothing. The Shadow took a long, slow sip of its wine, waiting for the figure to do something.

Sadie jerked and then her body stiffened. Waking abruptly, the first thing out of her lips was a breathless cry. “Sam—!”

She cut herself off, body deflating as she realized that it was over. The dream had felt so real—she’d really thought for a moment that they’d been transported to the little corner of that lake in her hometown that she’d never gotten the chance to show him. She wondered what he was really doing. She wondered why her mind didn’t make her a story wherein she could tell him that she wasn’t gone. Maybe it was just more torture—just another way for her to suffer while she was in the Empty. Maybe her mind was just a real dickhead, and liked to show her what she used to have but could have no longer. She wondered how a dream could be so vivid that she lost all sense of time outside of it.

“Welcome back, princess.” A dry, unamused voice said.

Sadie jumped, looking up to see the Shadow frowning down at her. With a roll of the eyes she mumbled tiredly, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

“Fine, whatever, cupcake.” It replied.

Around them, the Empty was darker than before, but still undeniably maroon. Swallowing her misery and disappointment, Sadie shifted her legs to sit comfortably in front of the Shadow. Much to her surprise, she found herself draped in a floor-length purple chiffon gown. She frowned, but before she could ask, the Shadow spoke.

“Where were you?” It asked pointedly.

“I was asleep, idiot.” Sadie grumbled, roughly shoving the dress aside to get more comfortable.

It scowled down at her. Sadie sighed and took a deep breath, blinking. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on a chair, across a table from the Shadow. She moved to speak when the Shadow beat her to it.

“Your consciousness.” It said, “Some of it left your body—it left the Empty—where did it go?”

Sadie’s brow furrowed slightly, “It did what?”

“Do I really need to repeat everything to you three times over?!” The Shadow snapped, making Sadie flinch a little. “Now. You’re going to tell me what you are.”

“I’m—” She paused and thought for a moment, “—can’t you read my mind?”

The Shadow narrowed its eyes, an undeniable fury in them.

“You can’t?” Sadie asked, now more perplexed than ever.

“You are affecting the Empty somehow.” It gritted out, “It is absolutely infuriating and I can’t even peek into that melon—not that I’m sure I’d find anything in there anyways—and, on top of that, you’re conjuring things now!”

It indicated the table, and Sadie looked down to see that it was indeed the table from before. Her gaze rose back to meet the Shadow’s.

“But… it’s not real is it?”

“No.” The Shadow admitted, raising its glass again, “Nothing here is real, though. Nothing but the humans and monsters I’ve gotta keep quiet, now—seven billion of ‘em.”

Sadie thought for a long moment as the Shadow sipped its wine. She glanced around and noticed that the void was back to the more saturated maroon color.

“So… so did my body disappear?” Sadie asked, turning back to the Shadow.

“No.” It swallowed its most recent drink, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Well, what happened?”

It rolled its eyes animatedly. “Part of your consciousness went somewhere else, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Well, neither do I!” Sadie replied indignantly.

The table vanished and suddenly she was on her feet again, glaring down at the Shadow.

“Leave me alone and I’ll offer you the same kindness.” She snapped, turning on her heel and beginning to march away.

She was barefoot, now, the feeling of both nothing and a flat plane on her bare soles was nerve-wracking. She marched for what felt like a good minute or so, then sighed and turned to look back. The Shadow was sitting there, still, brows raised judgmentally.

“Did you really think that was gonna work?” It asked pointedly, “It’s the Empty. It’s everywhere, nowhere, and all in one place at the same time! There’s no distance, no space, no time, no nothing! It’s nothing and it’s endless, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t all on top of each other, dummy. Forget everything you know about your reality, already—everything’s different here.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and stifled a groan. She flounced down to sit on nothing again, dragging the hem of her dress forward to put something between the bare skin of her legs and the void.

“I’m a conduit.” She said finally, not looking thrilled about having to explain that.

The Shadow frowned slightly, turning its head away a tick and narrowing its eyes at her. “A what?”

Sadie sighed again, slouching a little. “It’s… it’s related to being psychic, but there’s some differences—to be honest, no one totally understands what it is.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m the only one left.” Sadie then amended, “That we know of.”

The Shadow contemplated this for a moment. “Well, there is no one else awake.”

Sadie nodded slowly. In her mind, she was thinking about the people that she cared about who were in here. If they were everywhere and nowhere, and at opposing ends of an endless void while simultaneously being on top of one another, then conceivably, they could be nearby—a relative term in the Empty.

“I tried to read your mind.” The Shadow said, its brow quirked and eyes giving Sadie a judgmental once-over. “But there was just nothing. It was like walking through a waterfall—you just end up on the other side and by the time you get through it all you get to show for it is that now you’re wet. I couldn’t find anything; it was like you just had nothing in you—you were like nothing.”

Sadie stared at it for a long moment. “Just like you.”

Its eyes flickered away, expression remaining the same as it considered this. “Yeah, I guess, maybe.”

Sadie looked down at her dress, thinking again for a long moment. When she spoke, she didn’t lift her gaze, and her voice was small.

“Are my brother and sister in here?”

The Shadow rolled its eyes, raising its glass again. “They were on Earth, weren’t they?”

Sadie nodded, still staring down into her lap.

“Then, yes, they are.” It took a sip of chardonnay.

“But I can’t see them, can I?” She looked up finally, a vulnerable look on her face.

“No.” The Shadow replied firmly without a hint of sympathy. “Having you awake is annoying enough as it is.”

Sadie’s brow twitched, hurt written all over her face. Before she started crying again, she turned her back to the Shadow, trying to force her tears aside. The Shadow did not say anything, it just sat there and watched her.

Silence surrounded them for a long time, and for no time at all.

(just a drawing I did a while ago of Sadie in this chapter :)