Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm not wearing it!"

"Dean, come on, pleeaase?!"

Dean Winchester dodged Allison Smith's attempts to slide a plastic tiara onto his head. The cake in his hands tipped dangerously as they danced around the kitchen.

"Not in a million years!" Dean insisted, putting himself on the opposite side of the center island from Allison. She put her hands together, begging him to reconsider.

"Dean, she's so bummed out about today not going as planned!" Allison plead. "We have to do everything we can to make it perfect for her! Please!"

"Look, I've been up since four AM putting up streamers and blowing up balloons- hell, I even baked, Allison! If you asked me a year or two ago, I'd have told you there was no way in hell you would ever catch me dead baking a cake! Although I gotta admit, frosting it was pretty fun."

"Dean!" Allison whined, shaking the tiara at him. He held the cake between them like a shield. Allison was so worried about the party going as planned that there was no way she would risk hurting the pink monstrosity, even to slap the pretty princess tiara atop his head.

"It's not my fault the damn neighbor's kid pussied out at the last minute!" Dean protested. "Not my fault Sam didn't make it in, not my fault-"

"Will you shut up, man up and wear the damn crown?!" Allison demanded. "For Mary?!"

"Well, I guess I do love Mary a lot," Dean said, pretending to consider for a moment. Allison smiled and stepped around the counter to approach him. She held the crown out and Dean took it with a look of distaste.

"I don't love her that much though!" he decided. He tossed the tiara over Allison's head, taking the cake and making a break for the dining room as Allison cursed him out and chased the tiara. By the time she retrieved it, Dean was calling her.

"Auntie Ally! Come on, now, you're holding the whole thing up!" he said mockingly.

"Bastard," Allison said, rolling her eyes. Leave it to a Winchester.

She hurried into the dining room to find Dean lighting candles in front of the birthday girl. The room was garishly overdecorated with princess party favors, but somehow jarringly empty. The only guests were Shimmer, Mary's orange-furred cat, and Castiel, Dean's tan-coated angel. Both wore tiaras and judging from their expressions, both were entirely unamused with the ceremony. Nevertheless, they both sat in their chairs and played along, both without comment.

"... four, five, six, and one for good luck!" Dean exclaimed as he lit the final candle. "Ally, hit it!"

Allison switched the lights off and led the song.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!"

It didn't take her long to realize that she and Dean were the only ones singing. She caught Castiel's gaze and gave him a significant look. He frowned at her in consternation, so she covertly ratcheted up the pressure.

Sing, bird-brain, or I'll take witchcraft up again just so I can put a pox on your dandruffy wings, she signed at him.

"My wings are completely free from dandruff," Castiel grumbled under the chorus. Regardless, he joined the song, his voice deep, flat and somewhat off-beat.

"Happy birthday, dear Mary! Happy birthday to yoooouuu!"

"And many more!" Dean added for good measure. He and Allison broke out clapping, both doing it as loud as they could in an attempt to make up for the fact that they were the only ones applauding.

"Make a wish!" Allison urged.

Despite their efforts, Mary spent the entire song watching the door. Dean and Allison both knew what she was waiting for. They both knew she was going to be disappointed. When she did blow out the candles, it was with a lackluster sigh.

"Whoo! Good job!" Dean whooped while Allison switched the light back on. They took their seats, Dean grabbing the knife. He took in Mary's crestfallen expression and held back a frown. He forced a smile.

"Ally, grab the ice cream, would you?" he said. After she left, he scooted his chair closer to Mary's and leaned down conspiratorially. "Hey, what do you say you cut the cake this year?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're big enough," Dean assured her, chuckling as she perked up. "Here, hold it like this... go slow and be really careful. Auntie Ally'll kill me if you cut yourself."

"Auntie Ally is silly," Mary giggled, taking the knife from Dean and examining it. Her green eyes lit up with glee and Dean was forced to wonder if he hadn't made a mistake giving the kid the knife. For a second, he thought of someone he hadn't thought of in a very long time. Someone else who got that look in their eye when they had a knife in their hand.

"Slow and steady, that's the ticket," Dean told her, refusing to pay any mind to the memory. He shut it out as stubbornly as always, ignored it until it went away.

"Is my presence here still required?" Castiel asked while Mary hacked the cake apart in slow motion under Dean's close supervision.

"What, you can't at least pretend to be having a good time?" Dean demanded, distracted as he kept his hands close to Mary's, ready to take the knife away in an instant if it started to look like she might nick herself.

"I never put up pretenses of any kind."

"Bull. Don't you at least want to stay for cake?" Dean frowned, afraid of what might happen if Mary's already small party diminished in size before the presents were even opened.

"It's ok, Daddy," Mary assured him with a gloomy sigh as she set the knife down on the table, having thoroughly butchered the cake Dean spent so many hours preparing. The fleeting joy of handling a blade almost as long as her arm had already taken its leave and Mary was downcast again. "He's got bingo on Thursdays. It's Thursday today."

"He's got- What?" Dean frowned, bewildered. He was assaulted by a mental image of Castiel and his default deadpan expression surrounded by old ladies, tracking a scorecard with all the emotional investment of a dead trout.

"The boss, as you so often call her, has said she no longer requires my presence," Castiel told Dean. "I will take my leave now. If you find yourself in imminent danger of dying, call for me."

With that, he vanished, tiara and all. Shimmer mewled and switched seats with a dainty, precise leap, claiming the now forsaken place of honor at the birthday girl's right.

"Daddy, is Uncle Sammy coming at all today?" Mary asked.

"He, uh... well... he said he would try," Dean said.

"That's what he said at Christmas too," Mary sighed. "And Thanksgiving. And the fourth of July... Why is he so busy all the time?"

"He's just working, sweetie. He wants to be here, but... sometimes people have responsibilities, you know? Things they said they would do ahead of time."

"Like how Uncle Sammy keeps saying he'll visit?"

"Uh... well, yeah," Dean said, realizing he'd made a mistake. "But... you see..."

"Dean, stop," Allison groaned, reentering the room with ice cream and a scoop. "Don't worry about Uncle Sam, Mary. When he does get here, he's taking you to Fun City to make up for missing your party."

"But I wanted people at my party," Mary protested, voice growing dangerously whiny. Allison started scooping ice cream as fast as she could, hoping fervently that she could serve it fast enough to ward off a meltdown. "Madison Sanders down the street had so many people at her birthday party. They had so much fun! I want a big fun party full of friends like she had! How come I don't have any friends?!"

"Uh, honey-"

"You wouldn't even let cousin Mikey come to my party! Why, Auntie Ally?!"

Dean and Allison both knew Mary was winding up for a tantrum.

"Presents!" Dean yelled. "Let's skip the ice cream and go open some presents, huh? Whaddaya say?"

"Dean!" Allison snapped with a scowl. She wasn't a disciplinarian, but Dean's parenting style bordered on bribery and she blamed him for Mary developing something of a spoiled streak. "Mary Grace Winchester, you're one word away from being sent to your room! Take a breath!"

Dean shrank back, crossing his arms over his chest in the face of Allison's stern tone. Mary pulled it together too, doing as she was told and taking a long, deep breath.

"Now do you have something you'd like to say to me?" Allison prompted.

"Sorry, Auntie Ally," Mary mumbled.

"For?"

"I'm sorry for yelling."

"I accept your apology. Let's make sure we use our inside voices. Now, we talked about 'cousin Mikey'. Did you forget what I told you?" Allison asked, tone calm and level.

"No, Auntie Ally."

"Good. He hasn't been coming around again, has he?"

"No, Auntie Ally."

"Uh-huh," Allison said suspiciously. "If he does, you'd better tell me about it. Now... who wants ice cream?"

No one raised their hand, but Allison passed the bowls out anyway. Mary squished hers with her spoon dejectedly and Dean couldn't stand how sad she looked. He shot Allison a dirty look that he made sure Mary couldn't see. Allison met his gaze and shook her head minutely.

Don't contradict me in front of her. United front, ok?

Allison's words came back to Dean from a conversation they'd had long ago. He bit his tongue and forced a smile, determined to lift his daughter's spirits. Whatever it took.

"Gimme that!" he grumbled, snatching the tiara off Allison's head. He put it on, striking a few over exaggerated poses to catch Mary's attention. "What do you think? Who wears it better, me or Snow White?"

Mary smiled a little.

"Daddy, boys don't wear tiaras," she said, trying to be serious.

"What? Really? No, I've seen them," Dean shook his head. At his side, Allison laughed. "All the princes in those movies you like are always wearing them."

"Those are crowns, Daddy," Mary giggled.

"Oh, so there's a difference?"

Mary nodded, disappointment temporarily forgotten as she launched into a lecture on the differences between crowns and tiaras, attempting to educate her clueless father. Dean pretended to listen and nodded along, just happy that she was smiling again.

All he wanted in the world was to see her smile.

"... and they all lived happily ever after."

Dean closed the story book. Usually, Mary would have been sleeping by now, but she was wide awake, staring at him with a troubled look on her little face.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. "Was my big bad wolf voice too scary?"

"No Daddy, I like your scary voice," Mary told him.

"So why the long face?" Dean asked. "Are you still bummed that Sammy didn't make it in?"

"No, it's ok," Mary assured him. "He's taking me to Fun City, so..."

"So what's the problem then?"

Mary thought for a minute before she decided to tell him.

"Daddy, I asked Castiel about my Mommy."

Dean's stomach dropped. Suddenly, he wished he would have let Allison read Mary to sleep tonight.

"Now why would you ask that sourpuss anything when you've got me and Auntie Ally here?" Dean sighed. He'd known this was coming for a few months now. Mary had started socializing with some of the neighbor's kids, and he knew she was starting to wonder why she was the only kid on the block who lived with her father and an Aunt instead of a mother.

"Because you guys never tell me anything," Mary explained. "When I asked Auntie Ally why I don't have a Mommy like Madison Sanders, she just told me it was because I was 'extra special'."

Mary made air quotes around the phrase, serious as a heart attack. She was too cute and Dean almost had a hard time keeping a smile off his face, despite the gravity of the discussion she was trying to have with him.

"And when I asked what 'extra special' meant, she wouldn't tell me."

"Well you could have asked me," Dean pointed out.

"Auntie Ally told me not to ask you."

"What? Why?"

"She said it would make you sad if I asked you," Mary explained.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Daddy's too tough to get sad," he said.

"That's what I told Auntie Ally! And she said that was silly and everyone gets sad sometimes."

"Well, she's not wrong.. but the only thing that ever makes me sad is when my baby is sad," Dean assured her.

"Mrs. 'Pala` gets sad?" Mary asked with a confused frown.

"No, not the car. You, crazy!" Dean chuckled.

"Oh."

"So... you better brighten up before you make your poor pops cry."

"I will."

While Dean was trying to cheer Mary up and put her to bed, Allison was pouring herself a third mug of boxed wine. For the fifteenth time, she made a mental note to buy buy the proper glasses to accompany her newest vice. She settled down on the couch and switched on the TV. At first, she'd been resentful that Dean stuck her with the cleanup while he called dibs on tucking Mary in to sleep, but she felt better after he took thirty minutes longer to finish his task than she did. By the time he emerged from Mary's room, Allison had already turned the TV to her preferred channel and snaked the batteries out of the remote.

Allison expected him to be sore about losing the chance to choose the show they watched, but he didn't even spare the TV a glance.

"That damned feather brain! I swear, I'm gonna kill him!" Dean fumed on his way to the fridge. Allison swiveled her head around to watch him as he made his way to the couch, muttering all the while.

"Cas catch you on the toilet again?" she asked. Dean plopped down next to her so hard that she was jolted up a few inches by the impact.

"No, he upset Mary," Dean growled.

"What? How?"

"Oh, you know how she's been sulking around all day, all sad about Madison and Sam missing her party? Well, that high and mighty, holier-than-thou, trench-coated turd told her she's a-"

Dean leaned toward Allison and air-quoted aggressively.

"- 'abominable freak of nature'-"

Allison choked on her wine, spitting it back into the mug just in time to avoid spewing it all over the cream sofa.

"- so now she thinks Sam and Madison are avoiding her. Because-"

"Why would he tell her that?!" Allison demanded once she recovered from her brief, intense coughing fit.

"She asked him why she doesn't have a mother."

Dean's words took a second to sink in properly. When they finally finished rattling around in Allison's brain and settled into their final destinations, her mouth fell open. She covered it with a hand, eyes wide as she realized she had some responsibility in this train-wreck.

"Castiel told her Alice didn't want her because of what she is," Dean finished. He cracked his beer open and took a long swig while Allison shook her head.

"Did you tell her-"

"Of course," Dean said. "What, like I'm gonna let her keep thinking that's true?"

"How is she now?"

"Still sad, but not as sad."

"My god."

"Yeah."

Allison sipped her wine and Dean drained his entire bottle in two long drinks.

"So, my question is, what's the nastiest thing you think I can do to Cas without him liquefying my bones as payback?" Dean wondered.

"I don't know... lock him in a closet with Shimmer? Shimmer would love the opportunity to mark him up."

"Ok Einstein, and when he liquefies Shimmer? Then what? The goal is to get back at him for being a dick to Mary, not get her cat killed."

Dean kept brainstorming vengefully, while Allison found herself wondering about something else.

"Dean, what... what did you tell Mary?" she ventured. "About what really happened when she was born. About why Alice really left her?"

"Well, I thought about telling her about how Alice was a selfish, soulless sicko who didn't want a kid raining on her parade."

"Oh god, please tell me that's not what you told her!" Allison groaned, preparing herself to go comfort Mary and work damage control.

"No! Of course not! I'm not stupid, Allison!"

"So? What did you tell her?"

Allison chewed the inside of her cheek while she waited for Dean to get over his hesitance and answer her question.

"Well... I, uh... I told her she doesn't have a mother, because... well, I told her that hers is... dead."

Allison let her eyes slide shut. She took a few deep, calming breaths.

"You. Muttonhead!" she snapped, unable to contain her frustration with him despite her best efforts. "Why would you tell her such a stupid lie?!"

"Allison, we haven't heard anything from your sister in years," Dean pointed out. "She could be dead for all we know!"

"And what if she isn't?"

"So what if she isn't?"

"Dean, what if she comes back someday? How the hell are you gonna explain that to Mary, huh?"

"She's not gonna come back," Dean scoffed.

"Ok, but what if she does? Didn't you stop to think that Mary might be more upset by you lying to her than she would be by the truth?"

"I couldn't tell her the truth, ok? It's... it's ugly, Allison!" Dean snapped. "She's a god-damned angel, ok?! She didn't deserve what Alice did to her, and she doesn't deserve to have to live knowing about it! I'm just trying to protect her, ok?!"

"Shh, you want to wake her up?!"

Allison thought carefully about what she wanted to say next. Her hands shook, so she set her mug down on the coffee table for fear of spilling the wine.

"Mary's a tough kid," she said, her voice deceptively low and steady. She could have throttled Dean. "She can handle more than you give her credit for."

"Allison, just 'cause she can handle something doesn't make it ok to dump this crap on her," Dean growled. "She's my little girl, and-"

"She's not just yours, Dean!"

Allison wanted to remind Dean that if not for her involvement, he never even would have known Mary, but she bit her tongue. It was too harsh, too hurtful. She didn't want to go there.

"Look, just... you need to fix this before it comes back to bite you," Allison said. "Tell her you lied, explain why... if you don't want to tell her the truth, that's fine. Tell her to ask when she's older."

"You putting her off is the whole reason she went to Cas in the first place," Dean pointed out. "Now you want me to make the same mistake?"

"Either you tell her you lied, or I will," Allison said firmly. "Alice is gonna come back someday, Dean. When she does-"

"If Alice ever has the nerve to show her face here, I'll call the Smiths myself," Dean snapped. "She has no right-"

"She's my sister! I want to see her again more than anything in the world! WHEN she comes around-"

"IF she comes-"

"- I swear to god, Dean, you'd better not-"

"- just abandon people and then waltz-"

"- with MY family because you can't get over-"

"- too damn confusing for Mary, and besides-"

The conversation degenerated into hissed whisper-shouting and enraged finger-shaking as accusations and threats were traded. Neither Dean nor Allison actually understood any of what the other was saying because they were each too busy trying to talk over the other without actually raising their voices. Neither wanted to let the other get a word in edgewise, but both were determined not to disturb Mary. They kept at it for a good five minutes, before a sound from the back room silenced them both.

THUMP.

Allison and Dean froze, argument forgotten instantly.

"Shimmer?" Allison suggested. Dean shook his head.

"Too light. That was something over a hundred pounds, easy. Cas?"

"He's not the clumsy type."

"Smiths again?"

"Doubtful. They stopped sneaking in after I hexed Louise."

"Burglars?"

"On our street?"

A quiet rattle from the back room caught their attention and they both fell silent.

"Unluckiest burglars in the world?" Allison shrugged.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Go stay with Mary. I'll get the shotgun."

"Don't shoot any humans!" Allison warned as he made for his room. "The last thing I need is a crime scene in the room where I keep my talismans!"

Dean ducked into what had once been Allison's guest room. They still called it the guest room, but in truth, he was the only guest who'd graced it in over five years. He was all but moved in at this point. He grabbed a shotgun off the top shelf in his closet and snuck back out into the dark hall. Behind him, Allison slipped quietly into Mary's room and softly closed the door behind her. Dean advanced on the door at the end of the hall. Within, he heard muffled shuffling and quiet, nigh imperceptible rustling. Whoever was in the house was going through Allison's things.

Dean took a deep breath and turned the door handle slowly, in excruciatingly subtle increments. He thought about bursting in quickly, but didn't want to risk spooking an armed burglar and getting himself shot. Then again, he considered, sneaking into the room was just as dangerous. At least this way, he could get a look at the burglar before they noticed him. If they were armed, he could get out again. If not, he could announce himself and chase them out of the house.

Dean peered past the door the minute it cracked open, scanning the room with bated breath. All he saw was darkness. He opened the door further, heart in his throat, heat racing up and down his back as he widened his view. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness within, pupils widening enough for him to see a shadowy figure going through Allison's desk.

CREEAAAK.

The door hinges groaned, crying out for oil with a low, desperate squeak that caused Dean's heart to drop like a bowling ball into the deepest pit of his stomach. The intruder whipped around in time to see Dean throw the door open, discarding caution as he was discovered.

"Hey!" he called, raising the shotgun threateningly. "Don't move!"

Dim light streamed in from the kitchen at the end of the hall, but the intruder ducked and rolled before it could illuminate them. Dean almost got a shot off, but hesitated for a split second, Allison's words echoing in his mind.

Don't shoot any humans!

The split-second was all it took for their uninvited guest to grab the barrel of the shotgun, thrusting it skywards as Dean fired, too late. Plaster rained down on him and his attacker as they tussled in the doorway, grunting with effort as each fought to wrest the shotgun away from the other. Dean brought his leg up to kick the intruder away, but they moved faster, a bony elbow striking his cheek and driving him back.

"Ugh!"

Dean pulled the shotgun back as far as he could, then gave in to the other's pulling. The butt of the weapon slammed into their face. When they cried out in pain, it was a woman's voice. She was dazed for a second and Dean took full advantage of the opening. His fist slammed into her stomach. She doubled over and he seized her, lifting her just high enough that when he threw her to the ground, the house shook around them with the force of her impact. She lay breathless and bleeding at his feet. Dean stepped over her, going just far enough to flip the light switch.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked right before light flooded the hall. "And what the hell are you doing in my house?"

Alice Smith squinted in the sudden light and glared up at him from the carpeted floor.

"Well, it's good to know you missed me, Dean," she grumbled, clutching her stomach with one arm and wiping a bloody nose with the other.

Dean gaped at her, speechless for a few minutes.

"Well. Speak of the devil," he finally managed, stunned. "And she shall appear."

This had to be some kind of sick joke. How could this be happening to him? Could it possibly have happened at a worse time?

Just when he thought his day couldn't get any more twisted, Allison stalked up behind him with her hands on her hips and punched his shoulder just hard enough to hurt.

"Told you so," she taunted.

This can't be happening, Dean thought helplessly as Alice struggled to her feet. There's no way in hell this is really happening. Not after all this time. Not like this. What the hell is this? Did we summon her somehow? Or is it a freak coincidence? Can't be.

After all, accidents didn't just happen accidentally.

Allison stepped forward to hug her long lost sister, while Dean crossed his arms over his chest and scowled deeply. The surprise of seeing Alice started to wear off and other emotions rushed in to fill the void it left. Some of them he expected, like anger and indignation at the sheer nerve she had showing up here. Others caught him off guard, like the hints of happiness and a subtle twinge of nostalgia. Dean buried those feelings and focused on his rage. How dare she? After all this time. After the things she'd done, the things she'd neglected to do.

"You couldn't have called?" Allison chided.

"I was a little busy," Alice excused herself.

"Wow, busy," Dean put in snidely. "For seven years? Now this, I have to hear. Oh wait, you know what? I think I'm actually too busy."

"Good," Alice snapped, shooting him a dirty look. "I'm not here to see you anyway."

"Oh yeah? Who are you here to see?"

"Allison, of course. And my daughter."

Her words hit Dean like a bucket of ice water, shocking, unpleasant, enough to take his breath away and nearly knock him off his feet.

"Excuse me?" Dean heard himself say. His brain was preoccupied, struggling to keep up with these new developments, trying desperately to imagine the consequences.

"You heard her," Allison said, smiling like this was everything she ever wanted out of life. "She's here to see Mary."

"Mary, huh?" Alice echoed. "Is that her name?"

"Yeah. Mary Grace Winchester."

"Pretty name."

"Thanks. I can't take all the credit. I wanted to name her after Grandma, but Dean wanted to name her after his mom, so we met in the middle," Allison explained, joy making her loose-lipped. Her immediate and unquestioning acceptance of Alice made Dean sick to his stomach. He couldn't let this go on.

"No way! Over my dead body!"

The sisters fixed him with identical blank, bewildered stares.

"What?" Allison asked. At her side, Alice straightened, anger written plainly in the lines of her stance though her expression remained neutral.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you anywhere near my daughter!" Dean snapped.

"Over your dead body, huh? I can't say I'll be sad to arrange that.

Alice cracked her knuckles and took a step toward Dean.

"Wait, what?! No!"

Allison jumped between them as Dean raised the shotgun.

"She has no idea who you are!" Dean snapped. "You creep in here in the dead of night, unannounced, uninvited, and what, you want us to get Mary up out of bed so we can throw you a welcome party?! You're out of your damn mind!"

"She's my daughter too, Dean! I have the right to see her!" Alice yelled.

"Guys, we need to-"

"You gave that right up when you abandoned her!" Dean barked back. Allison's voice was lost beneath their clamor as they spat over her. She begged them to calm down, begged them to try to be quiet, but it was already too late. Behind Dean, Allison saw Mary's door crack open. She poked her head out, green eyes huge and fearful.

"Dean, give me that!" Allison shouted, taking the shotgun from him in passing. He barely noticed, too engrossed in his screaming match with Alice. "Neither of you kill each other, ok?! Calm the hell down!"

Neither of them heard her, but she didn't have time to care. She made her way past them to Mary, ushering her back into her room and closing the door behind them.

"Auntie Ally, what's going on?" Mary asked.

"Go back to bed, Mary," Allison said, trying to sound gentle in spite of the anxiety roiling in her gut. "Everything's gonna be ok."

"You can't just decide-"

"- don't care what you want, you can't-"

"- doesn't matter anymore, if you just-"

"- literally kill you, for good this-"

Allison wished to god they would shut up. Mary obeyed her and climbed back into bed, but her lips trembled and her wide eyes brimmed with unshed tears of confusion and distress.

"Scooch over, will you," Allison sighed. She climbed into bed alongside Mary and held her close. Mary wrapped her arms tight around her Aunt, burying her face in Allison's shoulder. Allison stroked her hair and covered her ears, humming a lullaby. She didn't know what else she could do.

"Everything's ok," she told Mary softly as the child quivered in her embrace. "I promise everything's ok. I promise."

Chapter Text

She's the kind of girl who'll smash herself down in the night.

She's the kind of girl who'll fracture her mind till it's light.

She'll break her own heart, and you know

That she'll break your heart too.

So darling, let go of her hand.

She's been skipping days, spilling her drinks in the sink

And you know, she's never coming home, never coming home again.

But when she opens her eyes,

Beyond the chipping paint through the windowpane,

lies her patron saint, broken and lame and absolutely insane

For learning that true love exists.

Patron Saint, Regina Spektor

Allison slept in Mary's room, holding her niece through the night. It was her routine to wake with the sun, but dawn was still hours away when her routine was broken. Allison's body covered itself in goosebumps while she was still dreaming. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up straight. A feeling woke her, chasing her dream away and flooding her with a pulse of adrenaline. Her eyes snapped open of their own accord, drinking the pre-dawn darkness into her pupils, which flared as wide as humanly possible.

Allison hadn't hunted in years, but the instincts imbued in her by a lifetime of training hadn't faded in all that time. She was being watched. Something was in the room with her, breathing soft and steady behind her. Fear gripped her. All she could think of was Mary. She had no weapons, but she was prepared to fight tooth and nail if need be to ward the thing in the room away from her baby.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, desperate, as if it thought it could escape. Its terrified beating marked the passage of seconds, precious time Allison was hyper aware that she was losing as she rolled over to catch a glimpse of the creature in the room with her. Blood pulsed in her ears, roaring loud enough to drown out the early birds singing outside and the muted breathing of the faceless other.

Allison saw Alice's face, pale and drawn in the darkness. She sat at the chair of Mary's desk, no more than a foot from Allison. She leaned forward in her seat, hands clasped between parted legs as she watched the scene with single-minded intensity reminiscent of an animal stalking its prey. Shock hit Allison first, then confusion. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief, allowing tense muscles to unwind. She had been prepared to pounce, ready to defend or kill and now she found herself giddy in the aftermath of the savage moment of uncertainty that preceded battle.

Still, Allison's heart hammered and her blood itched and burned under her skin as sweat coated her back beneath her soft cotton night shirt. Rationality told her that she was safe, that Mary was safe. No threat loomed here, no enemy lurked, only a long lost sister and a paranoid streak that she would never be able to shake.

Paranoia and instinct told her something was still wrong. Allison couldn't put her finger on what, so she dismissed the feeling.

"Alice," she said softly, mustering a smile. "What are you doing?"

Alice's eyes flashed pale silver in the darkness. The sight sent a chill racing through Allison, a shiver ripping down her spine. So Alice's lost soul was still living in a shapeshifter like a hermit crab in a lobster's shell. The thought should have comforted her, but a terrifying, insidious suspicion planted itself in the recesses of her mind.

What if this isn't really my sister?

Something in Allison's expression must have betrayed her uneasiness.

"Creepy, I know," Alice admitted quietly. "I just wanted to see her."

Allison had no words. Something was wrong, she could feel it. She forced the foreboding away, told herself it was nothing. Just the lingering notes of an unremembered nightmare that still haunted her. It had to be. She had spent too long hoping for her sister's return to allow baseless paranoia to taint the occasion.

Still, worry nagged her, incessant and inescapable.

"Never ignore your gut. Any good hunter knows their gut is their best friend. The ones who don't know this are the ones who end up dead."

Grace Smith's words came to her as if from another reality. All those lessons, all that training, all those pearls of wisdom had been imparted so long ago that Allison could hardly believe she had been the one learning them. She felt like a stranger in her own memories after leaving them so long unvisited. Regardless of her neglect, the lesson stuck, lodged in Allison's subconscious mind like a splinter.

Alice of all people would understand caution in the face of uncertainty. Allison decided she would test the waters, disturb the pond and see if anything unpleasant rose to meet her.

"You've got plenty of time to see her," Allison said, now awake enough to control her expression. She would show nothing of her thoughts. She smiled at the thing that looked like her sister, the thing she hoped contained her sister. "How about we let her sleep a while longer? We can get some coffee. Catch up."

"Sure."

Alice's reply was easy, but her eyes lingered on Mary as Allison rose. She waited for Alice to follow her, unable to bring herself to leave her alone with Mary.

"You still take your coffee black?"

"Ew. No, I'm gonna need sugar and cream if you've got it," Alice said.

"Wow, look at you. Any other big changes I should know about?" Allison asked while she put a pot of coffee on.

"Maybe. Let's see."

"So, Dean still around somewhere, or do I need to help you dig a grave?" Allison joked.

"Dean's fine. He's still an asshole, but he's breathing."

"You two manage to find some common ground last night?" Allison asked suggestively. She remembered their yelling match lasting for nearly an hour before it died down. Afterwards, she'd still heard them talking late into the night, barely raising their voices.

"No."

"So what were you two talking about?"

"Nothing. A lot of nothing, but basically nothing."

"Wow."

"You don't have a problem with me being here, right?"

"Of course not. Well..."

As soon as the words left Allison's mouth, she realized they weren't entirely true. She thought very carefully about what she would say next while she fixed them two cups of coffee.

"Actually, I do worry about Mary. Alice, I... I'm happy you're here, don't get me wrong."

She passed Alice her mug and led her into the living room.

"But?" Alice prompted. She made herself comfortable on the love seat while she waited for her coffee to cool.

"Why now?"

"It's hard to explain. I guess I'm... lonely. It's been a long road. How long has it been anyway?"

"Seven years. To the day."

Allison spoke without thinking and immediately regretted it. Alice was probing for information, doing the same thing Allison should have been doing, only better. Allison knew she needed to focus. Her feelings were getting in the way.

Still, she reminded herself, seven years was a long time. Long enough for someone to change a lot, long enough for them to lose track of the years. Allison herself might have lost track if she didn't have a living calendar sleeping down the hall, marking the passage of each year and holding its place like tick lines carved in concrete.

Alice whistled a little.

"Well, that happened fast," she mused. "Guess it's true what they say about time, huh?"

"I guess so."

"So what, you knew the Smiths were watching us? You knew it wasn't safe to come around or even call? So what changed? Why are you here now, really? Because the Alice I knew would never admit to being lonely. She was too wrapped up in appearances, to worried about looking weak. Or have the years changed you so much, worn you down so much that you're willing to scrap your pride to get your family back?"

That was what Allison wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit the fickle, foolish muscle and instead sipped her coffee. It was too hot and it singed her mouth, but she held her composure and forced it down while she kept her desire to make excuses for her sister in check. She needed to hear what Alice had to say, without leading her.

"She's old enough for school, isn't she?" Alice asked, gaze flying down the hall to burn a hole in the door to Mary's room. "Shouldn't she be getting up by now?"

"Lonely, huh?" Allison said instead. She wasn't ready to talk about Mary yet. "Tell me something about what you've been doing all this time with your lonely self, sis."

"You and Dean are both too hung up on the past," Alice sighed. It was a heavy, weary sigh edged with a hint of anger. The words that followed were snapped sharply, tersely. Alice tone bordered on snarling. "I have to go through this again, really? It wasn't bad enough that I had to sit here all last night telling Winchester nothing upon nothing, now I have to repeat that nothing to you?"

Alarm bells went off in Allison's head. Alice's reluctance could have been understandable given the right circumstances, maybe if their time apart was nothing short of a non-stop horror show. After seven years without so much as a word to her big sister, her animosity shook Allison. If it was too bad to talk about, wouldn't she at least say as much? Why was she lashing out so viciously with so little provocation? Even for Alice, it felt extreme.

Mary was Allison's world. She wanted her sister back, wanted them to become the family she'd been dreaming of for so long, but a mother's wants meant nothing.

"Well, you know what Grandma always said. Blood is thicker than water."

The words were a test, the first half of a longer phrase. It was code; a question that, if answered correctly, was meant to assure one sister that it was truly the other they were dealing with.

"But water can wash it away too," Alice replied easily. She narrowed her eyes. "Is that what this is about? You don't think I'm me?"

Somehow, Allison found herself disappointed to hear the answer. It did little to assure her. She still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Can't be too careful," Allison shrugged.

"I want to meet Mary. Properly."

"Not yet."

"Why not? Don't give me that crap about it being too sudden, me having been gone too long, needing to ease her into it."

"Let me guess, Dean already gave you all those reasons."

"Among others."

"They're good reasons, Alice. Look, I'm glad you want to see Mary. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet you, but I don't want her to get hurt."

"She's my daughter. I'm not going to hurt her."

"I know that's what you think, but I'm telling you, it's not as simple as-"

"I'm NOT. Going. To hurt her," Alice insisted, spitting the words like acid in Allison's direction.

"Alice, how long are you staying here?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question."

"I don't understand what-"

"You say you're not going to hurt Mary?"

It was Allison's turn to be vicious. She set her coffee down so she could emphasize her words with hand gestures.

"What do you think's gonna happen if you meet her, get her attached to you, then you roll out of town chasing some hunt?!" Allison demanded. "What happens when she doesn't see you for weeks at a time?! When she doesn't understand why you're out there instead of here with her?!"

"I love how you just assume I'm still hunting," Alice scoffed. "You think you know everything about me, don't you? It's been seven years, Allison! I've changed!"

"How?! How have you changed?! Tell me, Alice! Tell me so I can feel ok about letting you near my daughter!"

Alice flinched back like she'd been slapped.

"Your daughter?"

Allison had been too incensed to notice her own unconscious choice of words. Now, Alice smoldered before her eyes. She licked her lips, clicked her tongue, ground her teeth while she selected her next words.

"She's not your daughter, Allison!" she growled. "She's no relation of yours at all! She's mine! She's one of us. She belongs to us!"

"Us?! Who is us?!"

Alice drew a blank for a moment, then stammered to cover her mistake.

"A Smith. What, you just figured I'd be fine with you giving her Dean's last name?"

"Where's this sudden family pride coming from?! You wouldn't even go by the name Smith for years! Or wait, don't tell me- You changed, right?"

"Damn right I changed!"

Allison was taken aback by the force of her own anger. She found herself standing over Alice, finger waving emphatically, movements jerky and short. Rage swept through her like she'd never felt before in her life, freed from a deep, dark prison in a crevice of her heart she hadn't even known existed until now. Repressed resentment for her little sister overwhelmed her, exploding in her chest like a fiery geyser. Her words erupted like magma and ash from a volcano dormant so long it was overdue to awaken. She couldn't stop herself, couldn't moderate her tone, couldn't lower her voice as she shouted at Alice and her nerve.

"Well it's too little, too late! If you wanted a say in her name, you should have been there when we were naming her! You left her to die in a closet, Alice! You abandoned her! You abandoned me! You left us both and you never looked back, and NOW you want to come around talking about whose daughter she is?! Now you want a say in who she is?! Well screw you, Alice!"

Allison panted in the wake of her rant. Alice didn't react, didn't change her expression or move a muscle in the face of her sister's fury.

"You and Dean are really riding the same wavelength these days, huh?" Alice finally said while Allison caught her breath. "I'm just the villain in your little tale of domestic bliss, huh? And that's it. You're not gonna let me see Mary. You don't give a damn about me or her. All you and Dean care about is keeping your little fraud of a family together, putting on a nice face for the world. Screw me, right?"

Her words were mocking, sardonic. They carried little emotion apart from disdain.

Allison's heart pounded, pushing dread and regret out through every vein. Gloom settled over her, saturating every inch of her down to her very nerve endings.

"Alice-"

"No, I got it. I'm not welcome here."

Alice set her mug down beside Allison's and rose. She held Allison's gaze, searched her eyes for a long moment. Finally, she snorted in derision. Without another word, she turned and walked away from her sister, out of the house entirely.

Allison stood in the awful empty silence left in the wake of their brief, intense fight. One depressing, terrifying thought dominated her mind.

What if this is it? What if this is the last time I ever see her?

She considered going after Alice, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She hated the way their reunion had gone, but she couldn't bring herself to completely regret the outcome. By all appearances, Alice had come back for purely selfish reasons. Allison needed to protect Mary from those reasons, and she'd done that. She could hurt all day and all night, she could miss her little sister for the rest of her life. She couldn't bear to let Mary feel even an ounce of that pain.

Allison justified her actions and set her shoulders. She could live with any consequences of protecting Mary.

Protecting her daughter.

Dean left the house at three in the morning. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do, but he needed to get away from Alice. She refused to tell him where she'd been or what she'd been doing for the past seven years, refused to explain her sudden desire to meet Mary. All she gave were vague blanket statements and transparently self-interested appeals to his own emotion.

"Put yourself in my shoes, Dean. I made a mistake. Don't tell me you've never wished you could take something back. I was young, I was stupid. Please, can you just... stop holding it against me long enough for me to make amends? Please, Dean."

Dean found himself on the highway. The highway always called to him when he was upset, comforting with its familiarity, inviting with its endless possibilities. He knew he wouldn't go far, but he let himself fly down the dark, deserted freeway at well over a hundred miles an hour. He revved the engine and ran angrily for an hour before his rage simmered down and burned its course. He turned around and raced back as the sky lightened over him to the color of charcoal ash. Daybreak threatened, bringing with it the responsibilities of the day. Dean was calmer as he made his way to work, if no less conflicted.

Leave it to Alice to wreck his life.

In one fell swoop, everything was changed. One unannounced visit was all it took to turn his world on its head. He had no idea his reality was so fragile that it could be torn to shreds by one woman who refused to stay dead.

Dead. She was supposed to be dead, he remembered for the first time. His heart sank down into the soles of his feet as he realized Allison was right. Mary wasn't going to understand why he'd lied to her. Would she hate him now? Would she be able to forgive him? Could he explain it to her, was she old enough to understand that the truth was terrible, that reality hurt? All Dean wanted was to keep her happy for a while longer, keep her innocent for a few more years. He didn't want her to feel the way he did, didn't want her questioning her worth or second-guessing whether she was wanted. He didn't want her to bear the same curse he had all his life.

Maybe the family curse was incurable. Maybe it would always catch up to every Winchester, no matter how hard Dean tried to get in the way. Maybe it was like destiny, something he reviled so vehemently, actively revolted against every minute of his life, but somehow, never seemed able to shake. Like a stubborn, selfish lost soul, it seemed destiny always found its way back to him, usually at the worst possible time. Maybe after everything, Mary was doomed to the same fate as her father.

Dean pulled up outside the garage where he worked. The sun was just beginning to peek up over the horizon, slowly as if it knew what had happened in its absence and it feared the aftermath as Dean did. PC's Auto and Body wouldn't open for two more hours, but Dean couldn't bring himself to go back home. He didn't have the energy to fight with Alice any more, didn't have the courage to face Mary. Not yet, anyway.

Dean got his phone out and called his brother. It went to voicemail.

"Sam. Call me back when you get this. It's... it was a rough night. Wish you would have showed up yesterday. Might have... well, I guess it wouldn't have mattered. Mary misses you though."

Dean missed Sam too, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Hope you're watching your back," he said instead. "Don't forget, call me."

Dean hung up and went through his contacts. He considered calling Bobby, but knew he wouldn't be up yet. Bobby Singer had his hands full anyway last Dean had heard. Anna Milton wanted to hunt demons, Bobby wanted his foster daughter to go to college. It was a mess that now filled Dean with dread. He had a savings account put aside for Mary's future tuition and he had never considered the possibility that she might not take that path. Now, with Alice's return, a pandora's box of ugly alternatives reared up to confront him and shatter his idyllic vision for his daughter's life.

He forced his mind off those problems, leaving his car and lock-picking his way into the garage. He disabled the alarm with the building code and crossed the floor to his current project. He considered the disassembled engine of an '87 mustang, seeking comfort and oblivion in the orderly puzzle that was his work.

For about an hour, it worked. Then a clatter at his back drew him back to the present. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and goosebumps pricked up along his arms. He straightened, shivering as the temperature in the garage dropped unnaturally. Dread filled him and he reached for a tire iron. The signs of a loose spirit were unmistakable for those with the experience to read them.

He searched the garage, stalking slowly between cars as his heart pounded and he racked his brain trying to figure out what was going on. He'd been working here for two years now. He knew the buildings history, knew that it lacked the pedigree of a haunting site. He also knew, however, that he was completely alone and the air conditioner had been broken for nearly a month. There was no natural explanation for the sudden chill in the air.

Dean turned to make another sweep of the garage and found himself face to face with a flickering apparition. He raised the tire iron, but hesitated when he saw the state of the ghost standing before him. The boy was out of focus, appearing and disappearing rapidly. Dean knew enough about spirits to realize that this one was having a lot of trouble manifesting. It was weak, probably too weak to touch him, let alone harm him.

"She says... she says... she says..."

The ghost spoke in a whisper that reverberated through the garage. Its voice was faint and strained in a way that gave Dean a sense of immense distance. He'd seen this before. Whoever this ghost was, he wasn't here to hurt anyone. He was trying desperately to communicate.

"Hey, who says?" Dean asked. He put the tire iron down and got a little closer.

"She says... she says... don't..."

Dean gathered all his courage, fought instincts that screamed at him to run. Sane people ran away from ghosts. All humans knew on a deep, basic level that spirits were dangerous. Getting as close to one as Dean was now took the same bravery as putting your head in a lion's maw. Every fiber in Dean's body was screaming at him to run, every muscle tense, every breath sharp and coarse. Still, he pushed forward, leaning down to let the boy's ghost whisper in his ear.

"Don't trust the shapeshifter."

The words came with pristine, chilling clarity. Dean drew back in time to see the flickering apparition vanish, leaving only the ominous warning to prove it had ever been there to begin with.

Dean grit his jaw, ignoring the questions the spirit's message raised. He focused on what he knew.

There was only one shapeshifter the ghost could be talking about.

Mary was woken by a soft tap at her window. She got out of bed, hoping to see her cousin Mikey standing outside. Instead, she saw Dean.

Puzzled, she frowned at him as she opened the window.

"Daddy? What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hey, princess," Dean greeted her. He smiled warmly, but Mary's expression didn't change. Something was different about him that she couldn't put her finger on. At the same time, he felt familiar in a way that had nothing to do with his outward appearance.

"You're not my Daddy," Mary accused. "But I feel like I know you from somewhere."

The thing wearing her father's face laughed.

"You're a sharp kid," it observed. "Nothing gets by you, does it?"

Mary started to close the window.

"Wait, wait," the shapeshifter said, taking a step back from the window. "Don't go away, please? I just wanted to meet you."

"I don't talk to strangers," Mary recited dutifully.

"But I thought you said you knew me!"

"Well I don't think I do."

"But we're family."

Dean's face melted and twisted, contorting and changing before Mary's eyes. Alice stood before her, arms spread. Even her clothes had changed. Mary's mouth dropped as the shapeshifter's eyes flashed.

"Hey, you change like me!" Mary exclaimed, shock chased by excitement. "Just without all the mess!"

"That's because I'm your mother," Alice said with a smile. "This isn't how I wanted us to meet, but... things didn't go according to plan. I had to improvise."

"But wait... I thought you were dead?"

"I'm not. Who told you I was dead?"

"Daddy."

"Well honey, I hate to break it to you, but Daddy lied to you."

"But... why?"

"He's trying to keep us apart," Alice said, taking a step closer again. She crossed her arms on the sill and rested her chin on them. Her eyes flashed pale silver and stayed that way. Mary's eyes flickered, responding automatically to one of her own kind, but she closed them tight and scrunched her face up in concentration until they stopped.

"What are you doing?" Alice asked.

"I'm not supposed to make kitty eyes," Mary replied, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly.

"Why not? It's part of who you are," Alice pointed out.

"Yeah, but I want to go to school like Madison Sanders."

"I still don't get it."

"Well, Daddy and Allison said I could go to school when I can control my eyes and stop having accidents."

"Accidents?"

"Sometimes I look like other people. But I haven't had an accident all month! I'm getting really good at staying myself," Mary said proudly.

"Wow. That is... that's awful," Alice said, shaking her head. "You don't even know what you are, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What a sweetheart you are. You're like me, honey. You're not human."

"I don't understand."

"Well, your Auntie and Daddy are human. You and me... we're something else."

"What are we?"

"We're special."

"'Extra special'?" Mary sighed heavily.

"Do your Auntie and your Daddy say you're extra special?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Let me guess. Whenever you ask questions, that's what they tell you."

"Yeah."

"Figures. Mary, do you want to know the truth? Your Auntie and Daddy are wrong to try to make you control your eyes and your shape-changing. They're scared of you because you're not like them. They want to take away everything that makes you special and make you be just like them."

"That's ok," Mary shrugged. "I love Auntie Ally and Daddy. I want to be like them."

"Oh baby, that's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Alice tsked, shaking her head. "Wouldn't you like to just be yourself? Wouldn't it be great it you didn't have to worry about controlling yourself? Hiding what you are?"

"Well... I guess... but..."

Mary chewed her lip and tapped her foot, fingers intertwining and fiddling with one another in front of her. She swayed from side to side as she considered Alice's words, the lacey hem of her white night gown swinging around her knees.

"Look, don't think too hard about it," Alice said dismissively. "Hey, what kind of breakfast do you like?"

"Waffles," Mary replied.

"Me too! Waffles are my favorite! What kind of syrup do you like on yours?"

"Strawberry."

"Same here! See, you're just like your ol' mom after all," Alice grinned. "What do you say we get some waffles, we can talk some more? I'd love to hear all about you. I bet we have a lot in common."

"I'd like that. I have to ask Auntie Ally though."

"No, I already asked her," Alice lied. "She said it was ok."

"She did?"

"Well, of course! I am your mother, after all," Alice smiled.

Mary was't convinced. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't know my mother if she bit my keister," she said, serious as a heart attack.

"God you sound like your father," Alice sighed wearily. "Mary, I'm going to level with you. You seem like a smart kid, I bet you'll understand. Your Auntie Ally doesn't want to let me see you, ok? That's why you can't ask her for permission. But I'm not leaving before I get to know you. Please come out with me? Just for a little while. We'll be out and back before your Auntie and Daddy even know you're gone."

"No!" Mary said obstinately, taking a step back from the window. "You're going to kidnap me and chop me up in tiny little pieces and no one's ever going to see me again as long as I live!"

"Wow," Alice managed, momentarily rendered speechless by the graphic example. "Where in the world did you get a nasty idea like that?"

"Auntie and Daddy told me that's what happens to little girls who talk to strangers and take candy from them," Mary replied matter-of-factly.

"Well they're not wrong. But I'm your mother though! And look, no candy!" Alice protested.

Mary shook her head hard, unswayed. Alice considered her options and finally had an idea.

"Ok," she said. "I get it. But what if..."

She reached behind her and produced a handgun. Mary's eyes widened to the size of tennis balls when she saw the weapon.

"... I gave you this? Did your Daddy teach you how to use a gun yet? I bet he did."

"Yeah."

"Did he teach you how to be safe with it, or just how to shoot it?"

"I know how to be safe."

"Ok. So here's my pitch; you take this, we run out for waffles, and if I try to kidnap you, you pop a cap in me," Alice proposed with a sly smirk.

Mary chewed her nails. Her eyes moved back and forth between the hall door, the gun and Alice.

"Come on, Mary. What do you say?"

Dean's job was fifteen minutes from home. He made it back in four. He burst into the house to find Allison in the kitchen cooking.

"Dean," she greeted him, startled by his sudden appearance. "Where-"

"Where's Alice?" he demanded.

"Gone."

It was the last answer Dean expected. He did a double take.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, we, uh... we got into a fight. She left. I don't think she's coming back."

"You got into a fight with your precious little sister?" Dean scoffed.

"Shut up."

"No, I'm not-"

"You're being a dick and you know it."

"I'm not!"

"In your head, you're thinking dick thoughts. I can hear them."

"Seriously, Allison... I'm sorry you two got in a fight."

"Yeah, well... I guess she always had an abrasive personality."

"Not always."

"Now you're defending her? You gonna get on my case now?"

"Hell no. I'm glad she's gone, I just..."

Dean was sure that the ghost's message was about Alice. Even without the appearance of the foreboding apparition, Dean would have been relieved that Alice was, seemingly, out of their lives again. A very small part of him was sad to see her go. He still had more he wanted to say to her and he was disappointed at the thought that he might never get that chance now. Most of him was happy that her can of worms remained unopened for Mary. He grabbed that emotion and decided it would be the only one he kept. All the others went back in the box, shoved back into the dusty, derelict corner of his mind where he kept all his loose ends.

"How about you go get Mary up?" Allison sighed. "Waffles are almost ready."

"Yeah."

Dean took a deep breath, banishing his turbulent emotions and fixing his face into a bright smile before he opened Mary's door.

"Rise and shine, valentine. Guess what's for breakf-"

Dean froze when he saw her empty, unmade bed. His eyes scoured the room in a fraction of a second. No Mary. The open window drew his gaze, white curtains waving lazily in the gentle breeze, casually, unaware of the disaster that had befallen the family while they stood by.

"Mary?!"

Dean rushed to the window and stuck his head out. He looked in both directions, panic and dread filling him.

"Mary!"

Chapter Text

Sam Winchester was onto something big. He was chasing a myth of a lead, gathering the pieces of a puzzle as old as hell itself. The further down the rabbit hole he wandered, the hotter his curiosity burned, the more the case consumed him. It was the hunt of a lifetime. If his information was right, if what he was chasing was real and not just the misleading coalescence of millenias worth of superstition and fantasy, this case might be the last he ever worked. Hell, it could be the last case any demon hunter ever worked.

Sam Winchester was a little busy these days to check his voicemail. When he finally did remember to pull his family line out of his glove compartment, he realized he had five missed messages from his brother.

"Oh crap."

Sam didn't need to listen to them to know what they were about. The date made it obvious. Still, he felt he owed it to Dean to hear what he'd had to say.

"Heya Sammy! Haven't heard from you since you forgot about Christmas... I gotta say man, you messed up on that one. Missed a real good time. Mary misses you, by the way. I know you're busy, I know you've got something big in the works, but it's hard to explain that kind of thing to a six year old. Drop us a line sometime, huh? Don't make me track your ass down and drag you here."

The message was dated a week after Christmas. Nearly a month old. Sam could have strangled himself.

I had an exciting break, I got caught up chasing it. Dean would understand, he justified to himself. Dean didn't know what he was doing, didn't know what he was looking into. From where he was standing, Sam was just a forgetful jerk.

He played the next message.

"Hey Sam. Mary's birthday is in two weeks. I'm dropping you the line extra early this time. No excuses, man. Come through for her, huh? You know you want to. Take some time off, for crying out loud. The job isn't everything."

And the next.

"Sam, I don't know where you are or what you're doing. Mary's party is tomorrow and all she's talking about is how she can't wait to see you there. Come on, dude, call me back. If you're not coming, at least tell me so I can break it to her gently. You're gonna break the poor kid's heart."

"Oh... oh no," Sam moaned, running his fingers through his hair. "Damn it!"

He resolved to make it up to them. Especially Mary.

The last two messages were both from today. Sam assumed it was Dean calling to yell at him for being an asshole. He almost stopped the messages from playing, but decided he needed to see this through. And afterwards, call Dean and explain himself.

"Sam. Call me back when you get this. It's... it was a rough night. Wish you would have showed up yesterday. Might have... well, I guess it wouldn't have mattered. Mary misses you though. Hope you're watching your back. Don't forget, call me."

Somehow, Dean's exhausted, plaintive words hit Sam harder than any amount of cursing his big brother could have put him through. Dean sounded like he'd been through the ringer.

The next message was recorded only an hour and a half later, but its tone was fervent and panicked, the opposite of its weary predecessor.

"Mary's gone, Sam! Alice took Mary! Call me RIGHT NOW!"

The short message made Sam's head spin at the same time as it froze his blood in his veins. Alice was dangerously unpredictable on her best day, conscienceless and ruthless on her worst. Questions filled Sam, rising with his anxiety and swirling through his head like a blizzard as he hit the call button.

"Dean? What happened?"

"Sam, you need to haul ass out here right now!" Dean barked through the phone. "Where are you?!"

"About that. I'm in Sonora."

"What, like the desert?"

"No. Well, yes. I'm in the state Sonora."

"What?!"

"I'm in Mexico right now, Dean."

"What the hell are you doing in Mexico? You know what, nevermind! Drop what you're doing, we need your help!"

"Dean, what happened? I'm coming, but you need to calm down and fill me in, man."

"Don't tell me to calm down! Mary's gone and-"

"Dean! Seriously, get a handle on yourself!" Sam insisted firmly. "You're no good to anyone in a tail-spin. Catch me up so I can help. I'm driving as we speak."

On the other end of line, Dean's heavy breathing steadied one breath at a time.

"Alice showed up here last night. She said she wanted to see Mary."

Sam frowned as Dean went on. The story didn't make sense to him. It didn't sound right. When Dean was finished, Sam was left with more questions than he'd had before he was filled in.

"That doesn't sound like Alice," he said, chewing his lip as his mind raced with disturbing possibilities.

"Sam, no one's seen or heard from Alice in seven years. Who the hell knows what does and doesn't sound like Alice these days?"

This was gonna get awkward. Sam chewed his lip and considered holding his silence, but the situation was too serious, the consequences too dire for him to worry about something as trivial as Dean getting mad at him.

"Actually, that's... that's not true, Dean," he revealed. "I've been in touch with Alice here and there."

"You... what?"

"Yeah. Matter of fact, we worked a case together last July. That was the last I heard from her, but I gotta say man, I don't buy that she suddenly decided to reach out. Especially not to Mary. She knows better than that."

"Hold on, back up," Dean said. His tone was dazed like someone had hit him over the head while Sam was speaking. "I'm still on 'you're in touch with Alice'. Sam, how long have you two been in touch?"

"Uh..."

Sam considered lying, but didn't see the good it would do him at this point.

"Well, she reached out to me a few years ago."

"How many years ago?"

"Uh... five... six or uh... so."

"Dude."

Sam had managed to render Dean completely speechless.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to that, Sammy."

"Look, my point is, whatever showed up at Allison's house, whatever took Mary, I don't think it's Alice," Sam said, feeling the need to steer the conversation back to its roots.

"Well it was definitely a shapeshifter."

"Ok."

"It knew things only Alice would know."

"So? We've run across mind-reading shapeshifters before," Sam reminded him. "You know what this means, Dean."

"Yeah. If it's not Alice, if it's just wearing her face, Mary's not the only one on the hot plate."

"I'm gonna let you go and try Alice's cell."

"Wow. Try her cell. So you've got Alice's cell."

"Dean. Task at hand? Mary?"

"Yeah, I got it. Allison's working a tracking spell."

"Tracking spell? What about Cas?"

"Cas is dead to me."

"Every time I turn around Cas is dead to you," Sam rebutted. It might have been funny if the situation wasn't so grave. "Call me back when you're on the move."

"Yeah."

Sam hung up, accelerating in the direction of the border as he dialed Alice's number for the first time in six months. As the line rang and rang, a memory crept up on him unbidden, a recollection of one of the last times he'd seen Alice.

"Independence Day's tomorrow. You gonna miss another family holiday, Sam?"

Alice sharpened a machete in the passenger seat, passing time while they staked out the home of a dentist. Sam shook his head.

"You're one to talk," he said combatively. "Remind me, when was the last time you made it to a family party?"

"Pfft. Hard to make it to family occasions when you don't have a family. Look, I didn't mean anything by it, ok? I'm just saying, I can handle this if you have somewhere to be. I know Dean gets on your case about it."

"How?"

"Sam, your family line doesn't have a password. Anyone could listen to those messages."

"You're such a piece of work," Sam scoffed. "How about instead of living vicariously through me, you show up to one of Dean's barbeques one of these days?"

"Ugh. And deal with all that drama? No thanks."

"Come on, I'll go with you and buffer against the drama."

"Sam, it's been years. It's too late for me to show up trying to horn my way into..."

Alice trailed off. Sam watched her expression change from teasing to annoyed, watched her head shake as her lips formed a hard, thin, unamused line.

"How come every time we work a case together it turns into you trying to make me bother your brother?" she demanded. The blade of the machete hit a sour spot on the stone, creating a screech that set Sam's teeth on edge.

"Why do you assume you'd be bothering him?"

"Why do you hate a straight answer so much?"

"That's a good question, Alice. Right back at you."

"You're a tool, that's why."

"Ok, well you're a dumbass. Come on, Alice, give me a serious answer. Just once. Why are you so scared to face Dean?"

"I'm scared of jack shit."

Sam rolled his eyes with a beleaguered sigh and gave up. He knew from experience he had hit a wall. If he had a nickel for every time they'd had discussions in this vein, he might have enough money to bribe Alice into giving Dean a call and mending fences. She always deflected or dodged, avoiding anything that approached a meaningful, honest talk. Whatever she truly felt on the matter, she seemed determined to take it to her next grave.

Alice surprised Sam by having one more thing to say.

"Things are better this way. He's better off..."

Sam watched Alice expectantly, but her moment of earnesty was gone as quickly as it came and with just as much warning.

"... at least, he would be if you'd act like a halfway decent brother and show up for the holidays."

Alice held the machete out to him blade up for inspection.

"Whatcha think? Humane? Or do I need to give it another couple passes?"

Sam's relationship with Alice was complicated. Hell, he didn't know anyone who had a simple relationship with the woman, but Sam had the unique experience of having accumulated more good times with her than bad. Wherever she was, whatever was really going on, he hoped she was alright.

"Don't leave me a message," came Alice's prerecorded voice. "Lose this number. That means you, Sam. Unless you've got something fun for me to kill. In which case, by all means, spill the beans after the beep."

Sam hung up and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. He was about four hours out from Allison's LA home. He stepped on the gas. He could cut that time in half if he tried hard enough.

True to her word, Alice took Mary out for waffles. Mary tapped her feet and her eyes darted around. Her little brow furrowed and creased anxiously as she took in all the sounds and smells and sights.

"I get the feeling you don't get out much," Alice observed as they ate.

Mary shook her head quietly.

"Dean and Allison probably keep you hidden for the most part," Alice went on, taking more to herself than Mary. "Makes sense. They don't want you freaking out the locals, don't want other hunters catching your scent. It's smart. I wondered how a little baby shifter could escape my detection for so long. Usually I find our kind faster."

She noticed Mary picking at her waffles, fidgeting in her seat. Every time someone passed their booth, she turned away and inspected her nails under the table, miming preoccupation in an attempt to blend in and go unnoticed. She did a good job. Dean and Allison had trained her well in the art of being a wallflower. Such a cute kid should have drawn compliments from everyone who saw her, but Mary knew how to make herself next to invisible.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Alice said. Mary was sheltered in an emotional shell that would keep her at arm's length from Alice. It wouldn't do. Alice needed her trust. "You wanna do something fun before we go back home?"

"Like what?" Mary asked, leaning in. Even excited, she was still apprehensive.

"How about I teach you a little more about shape-changing?" Alice offered temptingly.

"Can you teach me how to stop doing it?" Mary asked, perking up as she jumped at the bait. This wasn't quite what Alice had been hoping to get at, but she could work with it.

"Sure," Alice said. "Come on. We can't do it here."

She led Mary outside and into her car.

"So the first thing you're gonna want to do is think really hard about someone else," Alice told her.

"Why?"

"Well, let me explain it like this. You can't stop a habit until you know why it happens, right? Like... I don't know if this was ever a problem for you, but some kids wet the bed at night."

"Like Madison Sanders little brother."

"Exactly like that. Well, maybe her little brother is drinking a glass of water before bed, right? So that's why he has accidents later. Or you could think about... drunk drivers. Do you know about drunk drivers, Mary?"

Mary shook her head with a mystified expression.

"Well, how about alcohol? I watched your Dad put away beers all night. You must know what that is."

"You mean his grown-up sodas?"

"Yes, grown-up sodas. See, those can make you act very silly and feel very funny. And if you drive a car after you drink one, it'll make you crash. See the cause and effect?"

"I guess."

Alice could tell she was losing Mary's interest.

"Anyway, your shifting is just like any other accident. If you want to stop the accident, you have to know what causes it. Stop drinking water before bed, don't drink grown-up sodas before you drive."

"I can't drink water anymore? Won't I die?" Mary asked, hopelessly confounded by Alice's long explanation.

"No, it's just an example. What I'm getting at is that you need to understand why you change shapes before you can learn how to stop."

"Oh. Ok, I get it now. You should have just said that," Mary said, tone almost scolding.

"Next time I won't beat around the bush," Alice promised.

"So why do I change shapes?"

"Well... how about we do a little exercise?"

"Ok."

"I keep hearing about this Madison Sanders. Is she your friend?"

"No," Mary huffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a scowl. "Madison Sanders rides up and down the street on her brand new bike all day every day and only stops to make fun of me for staying in the house all day and never having anyone over."

"Wow. Want me to beat her up for you?" Alice offered.

"No, I already beat her up. I got grounded from the tv for a whole month."

Alice laughed and clapped, despite Mary's pout.

"I love it, I love it. I bet it was worth it though, huh?"

Mary shook her head, but a small smile tugged the corners of her mouth and her eyes were alight with secret glee that she struggled to hide.

"Come on, it's ok. I like it when people get what's coming to them too," Alice coaxed.

"Well... yeah, it did feel awfully good," Mary admitted, smile widening as Alice's flippancy emboldened her to let loose a little herself.

"You have to stick up for yourself in life, Mary. Otherwise everyone and their mother'll be walking all over you before you know it. Never forget that."

Mary nodded.

"Now, how about you get a real clear picture of Madison Sanders in your head?"

"What for?"

"Just to see if you can. Take your time."

Mary closed her eyes, her features pinching up in concentration.

"Every detail. Think about her eyes, think about her hair. Her skin, her nails, her teeth, how tall she is, even the way she moves. Make that picture so clear it's like she's standing in front of you."

Alice looked on as the sounds of a shift filled the car, slimy squelching, quick crunches and swift, muted sliding and grinding. In only a few seconds, a new child sat in her passenger seat, covered in pink mucus. No nails, no hair, no shed skin, Alice noted.

"Wow. You're a natural," she observed. "I haven't seen adults able to shift so fast and so clean, nevermind someone your age."

"Oh no!" Mary gasped, eyes flying open. She looked down frantically, holding her hands up and shaking them free of the slimy coating of viscera. "Oh no, Auntie Ally's going to kill me!"

She started to hyperventilate and screwed her eyes shut again, fists clenched in the light pink dress she wore. This time, the transition came slower, messier.

"You have to calm down," Alice instructed her. "When you're not thinking about it, it happens fast. You're putting too much pressure on yourself, overthinking it. Don't try to change. Just make a picture in your head and let your body do the rest. It knows what to do."

Despite Alice's advice, Mary's panic didn't subside and her changes came reluctantly, one at a time. She shed everything and built herself up anew. Skin and blood oozed from the neck and sleeves of her dress, plopping onto the seat and floor of Alice's car with heavy wet splats. Mary spat out teeth and lost hair in uneven clumps. When she was finally finished, she fixed Alice with an irate glare.

"Take me home," she demanded.

"But we're not done lear-"

"Take me home!" Mary yelled, hitting the sides of the seat with her fists in her anger.

"Mary, I'm sorry if I-"

"I WANT TO GO HOME!"

Alice winced as Mary's shriek ricocheted in the confined space of the car cabin, scraping her ear drums and making her skull vibrate.

"I WANT TO GO HOME! TAKE ME HOME!"

"OK! OK! STOP SHOUTING! I'M GOING!"

Alice started the car while Mary caught her breath after her outburst.

"Mary, don't be mad at me," Alice begged. "I didn't mean to-"

"I'm going to be in SO much trouble when Auntie Ally sees me!" Mary spat, crossing her arms tight. Discarded flesh squeaked and squeezed from beneath her dress when she moved.

"Well, we can clean you up before she sees you," Alice said, trying to recover from her blunder. She'd miscalculated. Allison and Dean had done more of a number on the child than she anticipated. "No one ever has to know."

"We've already been gone for so long!"

"It won't take long, I promise!"

"It better not!"

If Alice wasn't so worried that she was losing Mary's confidence, she might have been amused by how strong-willed the little girl was. She was definitely keeping this one.

"Is it almost done?!"

"Dean, back off!"

Allison snapped and swatted at Dean, hovering anxiously over her shoulder in the dark dining room. The curtains were drawn and the only light came from a single candle in the center of the table. Allison carefully measured ingredients out of jars and vials coated with a generous layer of dust from years of disuse.

"You're taking too long!" Dean groaned, pacing at her back with his hands on top of his head, nerve-wracked fingers trying futilely to twist through hair that was too short to grip. "We don't know how long she's been gone for! Alice could be taking her anywhere, she could be an hour away by now, she could-"

"You need to sit your ass down and stow it!" Allison barked. "Give me a hair!"

She held her hand out while Dean tried and failed to pull some. He growled in frustration after a few attempts, then gave up. He pulled out and flipped open a pocket knife. The stark, metallic snap tore through the dark, quiet room like a thunder clap. Dean sheared off a few hairs and placed them in Allison's waiting palm. She sprinkled them into the bowl, added water and started grinding the mess together. Dean chewed his lip and thumped his foot rapidly against the laminate flooring while he counted seconds and the air was filled with the scraping of pestle against mortar.

"Mary's fine," Allison said. Dean's nervous leg was driving her insane, but she knew no amount of yelling would make him stop. "Alice won't hurt her."

"And if it's not Alice?"

"What the hell else could it be, Dean? How could it find us, what would it want with Mary?"

"Sam said-"

"Oh, what does Sam know about it!"

"Allison, it makes more sense and you know it!" Dean insisted. "You know Alice! You know she didn't want to be a mother."

"That was a long time ago!"

"Yeah, well some things never change, and Alice is one of them! We have to assume the worst, Allison! We have to get a move on!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

"I know! I know, I just... I'm sorry, I know."

Dean decided to let it go and leave Allison to her work, but his words had already done their job without him even realizing it.

"She did say something really weird," Allison admitted. "When we were fighting, she said... what was it? 'She's ours', or 'she's one of us', or something like that."

"What? And that didn't sound weird to you at the time?!" Dean demanded.

"She played it off, talking about how she wanted Mary named Smith, but with hindsight-"

"Hindsight?! Allison, you should have known that thing wasn't Alice the minute it said anything about the Smiths that didn't involve stabbing them!" Dean scolded. "You should have called me! You could have stopped this whole mess!"

"This is NOT my fault!" Allison yelled, abandoning her work to round on Dean furiously. "Don't you DARE blame me for this! I'll remind you that you were up all night talking to the damn thing and you didn't catch on either, so don't you DARE-"

"Fine, whatever, will you PLEASE get back to work?!" Dean shouted, nudging her back toward the table.

"Touch me again and I'll shoot you!"

"Save it for the son of a bitch that's got Mary! Come on, Allison! The clock is ticking!"

"I KNOW IT IS!"

Allison picked the pestle up again, smashing it so hard into the mortar that the bowl cracked down the middle, falling to pieces and spilling its contents out onto the table.

"ALLISON!"

"SHUT UP, ASSHOLE, THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

"WILL YOU GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND GET THIS SPELL DONE?! HELL, I'LL DO IT MYSELF IF YOU DON'T!"

Allison wanted to tackle Dean, wanted to slap the attitude out of him, but she grounded herself, packed her pride away and allowed him to have the last word for once.

"It's ok, it's ok," she muttered, more to comfort herself than reassure Dean. "It's done anyway. Where's the compass?"

"I thought you had it!"

"It was on the table, where-"

Alice spotted it behind the candle and grabbed it, prying it open.

"Dean, go start the car!" she ordered tersely. "I'll be right out!"

Dean jogged out without another word, keys in hand, jingling all the way. Allison took a deep breath, steadying her hands as she finished the spell, relieved to be alone. Without Dean in the room pressuring her, she expected to feel better, but she was wrong. She realized she actually felt worse. She would never admit it to him, but he was right. This was her fault. She should have seen through the fraud that masqueraded as her little sister. She'd been so excited to see her after so many years, so willing to believe that the discrepancies in her character were just the result of nearly a decade of separation. She'd willfully ignored her gut instinct, allowed herself to make excuses for the creature, given it just enough opportunity to take the thing Allison treasured most in the world.

What if they couldn't find Mary? What if they never saw her again? Even worse, what if they found her too late?

Boiling tears pricked Allison's eyes as nightmarish scenarios raced through her mind. She was helpless, unable to ward them off, unable to quell the surges of agony, guilt and regret that swept through her.

She would never forgive herself for letting this happen.

Finally, the spell was complete. The compass needle circled viciously for a moment, then settled decisively in the east.

Allison let out a ragged, long-held breath and made for the door. She grabbed her jacket on the way out and a duffel bag full of silver.

"Got her!" she said breathlessly as she joined Dean in the impala, slapping the compass down on the dash.

"You got everything?" he asked, nodding to the duffel as she tossed it into the back seat.

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's go kill this thing," he growled.

Allison was about to agree with him, but she paused. Doubts still lingered in the back of her mind, contrary to all the facts at this point. She was still unable to shake them.

"Dean, what if it's really Alice?" she asked.

"There's an easy way to tell."

Dean pulled a small crucifix out of his pocket. Allison was confused until he handed it to her and she felt its weight and rough surface.

"Iron?"

"I've got that, salt, and the fireplace poker. If it's Alice, she won't be too happy if I hit her with any of the above," Dean explained, savagely satisfied with his plan.

"And if it is her?"

"So what if it is?"

"Well, then what?"

"Then I'm gonna kill the crap out of her!"

"How?" Allison demanded. "Let's forget for a second that I won't let that happen-"

"Allison, come on!"

"She's still my sister!"

"She took Mary! Serious dick move, ESPECIALLY if it's Alice! Hell, if it's Alice, it's worse than if it's some random monster! Alice owes us more than that!"

"Dean, even if that WAS enough reason to kill her-"

"IT IS!"

"Even if it WAS, how the hell do you expect to swing something like that? Or did you forget what she is?" Allison demanded.

"I'll find a way," Dean insisted. "My priority is getting Mary, back. After that, I'm ganking the thing that took her! I don't care if it's a shifter, a ghost, or the damn Easter bunny! I'm killing it! Preferably slowly and painfully, but I'll settle for anything as long as it stop breathing!"

Allison shook her head, but let it go. Dean wasn't dropping the subject so easily.

"What? Are you seriously gonna sit there and tell me you could let this thing walk?!"

"I just want Mary back," Allison said, rubbing her forehead as a headache settled beneath her fingertips. "That's all I'm worried about right now. And that's all you should be worried about. Leave revenge for later for once. Damn Winchesters. You all need to learn how to walk the fuck away."

Dean set his jaw and gripped the steering wheel tighter, but finally gave it a rest. He and Allison could butt heads til the cows came home. Neither would ever back down.

They were no good to Mary if all they could do was fight with each other.

"I want her back too," he said, tone low and level. Rage still lurked deep in his voice, but he kept it contained, wrapping it up to save for later. "You're right, this time. She's all that matters."

Chapter Text

Alice got Mary cleaned up at a local YMCA, posing as the branch supervisor. She stole his face off a plaque, hosed the kid off and booked it before anyone could ask too many questions. Mary fumed silently, but seemed to calm down a little once the gunk was rinsed off her.

"Still want to go home? We could stop for ice cream on the way," Alice suggested as they got in her car.

"I just want to go home."

Mary was quiet and somber, worry pulling at her features as they started to drive.

"You can tell Allison I'm the one who ruined your dress," Alice offered conciliatorily. "I'll talk to her for you, make sure you don't get in trouble."

Mary stared out the window and gave no reply.

"You're awfully scared to go home," Alice went on, probing, testing the waters to see if there was an opening she could exploit anywhere in Mary's psyche. "Are they ever mean to you there?"

Mary crossed her arms tight over her chest and slumped in her seat, but held her silence.

"You know, if you don't like it at home you could always come with me. Then you wouldn't have to worry about them being mad at you. Not for shifting. Not for anything."

Earlier, Mary had deposited the hand gun Alice gave her into the side pocket on her door. Now, she pulled it into her lap covertly, but not subtly enough to avoid catching Alice's attention. The older shifter sighed in disappointment.

"Ok. So it's like that. I was hoping you'd come easily."

"Take me home," Mary said. Her voice was soft, close to breaking. Her eyes were framed with red, glistening as tears threatened. Her lips quivered for a brief instant before she pressed them hard together.

"I know you don't understand this right now, Mary, but your home is with me," Alice informed her. "With us. You have another family you don't know yet. I'm going to take you to meet them. You're going to be one of us."

"Take. Me. Home."

Mary raised the gun, but her arms trembled, the weapon too heavy for her, shaking in her grip. A tear fell down onto her dress and her breath started to come fast and shallow. Alice tsked at her and parked the car.

"I see your Dad didn't teach you everything."

Alice grabbed the gun away from Mary, who shrieked and shrank back against the locked door, hands scrabbling at the handle in a futile attempt to open it.

"Never point a gun at someone unless you're about to fire. Especially if they're close enough to take it away from you."

Alice checked the chamber, cocked the gun and offered it back to Mary. She froze and stared at it open-mouthed for a moment.

"Go on. I won't take it away again," Alice coaxed. "Show me what you've got, kid."

Slowly, tentatively, Mary took the gun again. She looked at it for a few seconds while Alice waited.

"Why won't you just take me home?" Mary cried, tears streaming freely down her flushed cheeks as she trembled.

"You're home is with me. Those people raising you? They have no right to you. They stole you. They're imposters, pretenders, thieves."

"I just want to go home!"

"I'm not letting you go."

Mary sobbed harder, head bent low over the gun in her lap. Alice waited patiently for her to pull it together, but she got tired of waiting after a few minutes.

"Listen to me, little one. If I take you, you will never see Dean and Allison again. You can sit there and cry about it, and I'll take you away. Or you can stop me. Make your choice."

Alice kept waiting and Mary kept crying. Five minutes passed, and Alice nodded.

"So I'll take you then."

She threw the car into gear and started to drive. Beside her, Mary's heart was beating in the pit of her stomach, making her sicker with every heavy, hollow thump. She felt like she couldn't breathe, could barely see through the salty veil of her burning tears. She hicced a few times and thought of her Aunt and her Father. She thought of never seeing them again and wished with every fiber of her being that she never would have gone out with Alice. She tried to speak, tried to tell Alice that she couldn't do this, that she had to take her home, but she was too upset to get the words out. Broken, ragged sobs were the only sounds she could make, keening wails and aggrieved moans filling the car as Alice got up to speed.

"Don't be so upset. We'll be home soon. Really home, forever," Alice said. Her cheery tone pierced through the fog of Mary's desolation and hit something hard deep in her heart. It made a spark that ignited a pool of rage, dormant as a well of crude hiding under the shale of Mary's soul, a dark under current of her personality she had never had occasion to explore.

Until now.

Mary's fury was unprecedented. She raised her head, still sobbing, but her features were now contorted with a different emotion. Anger made the child ugly. She managed to take one deep breath through her histrionics and used it to screech at the top her of lungs, blasting Alice with the full force of all the rage her little lungs could muster. She raised the gun without thinking and started firing.

Alice didn't see the bullets coming and cried out as they rained over her from out of the blue. She jerked and shook as Mary kept firing, the car careening out of control and swerving into oncoming traffic. Beeps and honks joined the thunder of gunshots, creating a chaotic symphony that ended with a world-rending crash as the car's brief, frenetic journey was halted by a telephone pole. Mary and Alice were both launched forward, putting an abrupt end to the gunshots as Mary was ejected from the car.

As she flew through the air, all Mary could think about was how long she was going to be grounded when Auntie Ally found out where she'd been and what she'd done. It was going to be a long time. It might be for the rest of her natural life.

Her thoughts raced much faster than reality. What felt like a few minutes suspended mid-air to Mary was actually mere seconds. She didn't even have enough time to feel the pain of her violent flight through the windshield. She hit the sidewalk and the world went black.

Alice was fazed by the barrage of bullets, but just barely. It was the surprise of the attack that she took a few minutes to recover from. Her wounds were already completely healed by the time she wiggled the door handle, slugs littering car around her as she regrouped.

"Kid's got more nerve than I gave her credit for," she muttered. The door wouldn't budge, so she turned in her seat and kicked it hard with both feet. It flew off the car completely to clatter onto the sidewalk as other drivers pulled over around them. Alice got out of the car and looked around, spotting Mary lying on the ground nearly ten feet from the car. She headed over, changing forms as she went. When she scooped the child up, she did it with Dean's arms. She hoped a more familiar face would soothe Mary when she woke up. She was battered and bleeding, shards of glass lodged in her skin, pale bone peaking through the side of her calf. She healed slowly, her body doing all the work even as she remained unconscious.

The shifter approached the nearest car. A man got out, gaping, phone held close to his head.

"Yeah, hang on, they're coming over. Oh, god, the girl's in bad shape... holy shit, I see bone!"

The man stumbled away and bent over to throw up onto the asphalt. The shifter took it as a boon. It saved him the trouble of knocking the man out. While he was busy being sick, the shifter put Mary in the back seat of the man's car, got in and drove away.

Allison and Dean navigated obliviously around the wreckage, driving slowly past police cars that bathed the crowd of witnesses and spectators in flashes of red and blue.

"Doesn't that damn thing tell us how close we are?" Dean growled, risking another glance at the compass.

"No. Just drive."

"I'm trying. What a mess. Someone had a few too many before they got behind the wheel."

"Little early for it to be a DUI."

"Not everyone sticks to the five o'clock rule like you."

They passed the wreck, following the compass needle. It moved slowly, leaning toward their right as they neared the freeway. Their worst fears were realized. Mary was on her way out of the state. Dean merged onto the interstate and gunned it, taking them up to ninety as he weaved through the sparse midday traffic. Allison watched the compass needle as it pointed straight ahead of them.

Dean went faster as he was able, until they were finally far enough from the city that there were only a handful of cars in sight ahead of them. He floored the pedal, zooming past them as the speedometer ticked up past one thirty-five. Allison glanced down at the needle, alarm spiking through her like an electric current when she realized the needle was pointing directly behind them.

"Dean! We passed her!"

Dean hit the brakes and the impala fell back. The three cars in the other lane flew past in slow motion as the impala decelerated. Allison caught a glimpse of the last car's driver.

"It's the red car!"

Dean risked a glance over and found his own eyes staring back at him.

"You're kidding me!" he growled. "Why does every shifter I ever hunt end up wearing my face?!"

"Psychological warfare?" Allison suggested, slamming a clip of silver bullets into her gun. "Don't lose him!"

"Thanks captain obvious!"

"I mean stay alongside him!" Allison clarified, rolling her window down hurriedly.

Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?! Mary's in that car too!"

"I'm not gonna shoot Mary!" Allison yelled, poking her head and arm out the window and taking aim at the red car's tires. She fired, but the shifter accelerated fast, the car racing forward and slamming hard into the one ahead of it. Honks and screams echoed down the highway as the red car bulldozed it's way in front of the impala. Dean swerved to avoid the cars spinning and sliding, leaving them in the dust as he took off in pursuit of the shifter.

"Are you insane?! Stop shooting!" he shouted at Allison, forced back into the car by his sharp maneuvering.

"We have to stop that car!"

"You're gonna hurt Mary!"

"She's a shifter too, Dean, she can walk away from anything short of a silver bullet to the heart!"

"SO?! THAT MAKES IT OK TO RISK TURNING HER INTO ROADKILL?!"

"DO YOU WANT HER BACK, OR NOT?!"

"I WANT HER SAFE!"

"WELL SHE'S A HELL OF A LOT SAFER-"

"SHIT!"

The red car braked hard in front of them and Dean couldn't stop fast enough. They slammed into the back of the car, crumpling it like a tin can. The rear windshield shattered, fragments of glass exploding onto the impala's hood and into the red car's back seat. Dean and Allison lurched forward, Dean's seatbelt stopping his momentum while Allison smashed against the dashboard with brutal force. She fell back against the seat, blood streaming from her forehead while Dean struggled to catch his breath.

"Allison?"

She didn't respond. The red car pulled off again and doggedly, Dean followed. Shakily, he reached over to feel for a pulse. He found one. Allison was out, but alive. His attention didn't linger on her long. Ahead of him, a small head of blonde hair popped up in the back seat of the red car, shaking off slivers of glass. Mary turned and locked eyes with her father.

"Daddy!"

Dean couldn't hear Mary's scream, but he knew what she was saying.

"Daddy help!"

Dean's eyes widened as he watched Mary start to climb up out of the glassless rear window.

"MARY, NO!" he yelled. He rolled his window down and yelled frantically, trying to stop her. He remembered lessons he and Allison had taught her, preparing her for what they hoped was the unlikely eventuality that she was ever kidnapped.

"No matter what they say, no matter what happens, you have to get away, ok sweetheart? If you're in a car, you have to get out as soon as possible, even if it's moving. Chances are, anyone who takes you wants to hurt you worse than the road will."

It was a practical lesson, but Dean was filled with fierce regret that he hadn't specified that the advice didn't apply if they were on the highway.

The shifter noticed what Mary was doing and braked hard again. Mary was dragged back into the car by the momentum, slamming into the front seats and rolling onto the floor with a short, terrified shriek that was loud enough to reach Dean's ears. He was fast enough to avoid a collision this time, tearing into the other lane and blowing past the red car. He turned the car hard, screeching to a halt with the impala sideways on the freeway, partially blocking both lanes. The shifter saw him and threw the red car into reverse. Dean gunned the engine and chased them, catching a glimpse of Mary in the back seat, still struggling to climb out of the moving vehicle.

"Damn it!"

Dean realized he needed to put an end to this chase before Mary got herself hurt. Allison wasn't right, but she wasn't wrong either. Mary was in danger no matter what Dean did.

He threw caution to the wind and sped up, closing the distance between him and the shifter, nosing up alongside the rapidly reversing red car. He threw the steering wheel hard to the right, ramming at full speed into the car. It spun insanely, flying off the highway into a corn field. The impala skidded to a halt just at the shoulder of the road, dangerously close to joining the red car in the corn field. Dean grabbed Allison's gun and the iron poker and jumped out of the car, sliding down to the edge of the corn field where the red car sat, smoke billowing out from under the hood. The shifter was recovering in the front seat, struggling to open it's door. Dean bore down on him with righteous wrath, releasing a primal shout as he thrust the iron rod through the shifter's gut. The thing cried out, the force of Dean's anger pushing the poker clean through it's gut at a downward angle and into the upholstery behind it.

No spirit, no Alice, Dean observed, too full of adrenaline to feel any emotion at the revelation. He kept moving on autopilot, emptying Allison's clip of silver into the shifter. It roared and squirmed, unable to crawl away from the hail of bullets. Finally, it slumped in its seat, blood dripping from its mouth and trickling past the iron poker.

Dean didn't waste any time gloating over his kill. He dashed to the back door to find it locked. He moved to the back of the car, jumping up onto the ruined trunk in his frantic search for his daughter.

"Mary?! Mary!"

She rose slowly from the floor of the backseat, covered in tiny pieces of glass and smeared with drying blood, but apparently unharmed.

"Daddy!"

"Come on, Mary, come to me!" Dean urged, reaching into the misshapen void where the rear windshield should have been to offer her his hand. She grimaced and climbed onto the back seat, crying as she cut her hands on glass.

"It's ok, you'll be fine," Dean assured her. "Just come to me, baby. I'm gonna get you out of here. Come on."

Mary reached for his hand, but something behind him drew her gaze. Her features lit up with alarm, eyes widening as she screamed.

"Daddy, look out!"

Her warning didn't come soon enough. Something clanged against the side of Dean's head, sending him flying off the trunk and rolling into the corn stalks. The pain didn't hit him until a moment later and it took Dean even longer to realize what had happened. Bells rang in his throbbing head and he groaned, struggling to see past the agony as he rolled over. The shifter advanced on him, blood-drenched iron poker in hand. Dean was too hurt, too fazed by the surprise attack to reconcile reality with what he knew about shifters. Why hadn't silver killed this thing? Was it even really a shapeshifter, or had they made a fatal mistake by misidentifying it?

The monster loomed over Dean, raising the poker. He scrambled to the side as it plunged the iron rod into the soft earth where Dean had been a fraction of a second earlier. Dean was forced on the defensive, fleeing from his attacker as his mind raced. He needed a plan but he didn't even know where to start and it was impossible for him to think of anything but dodging the poker that whipped and whistled through the air. The shifter slashed and jabbed with supernatural strength, cutting down corn all around them as Dean evaded by the skin of teeth. The shifter advanced with cold, deadly calm, expressionless as it turned the tables on the hunter, pursuing him farther and farther from the road.

Dean managed to draw his own gun and take aim. He fired, despite knowing that the silver bullets were useless against whatever the hell this thing was. He just hoped he could buy himself a little time, slow it down enough for him to make it back to Mary, grab her and run.

The bullets hit their mark, stopping the monster momentarily. It shook and glared, grunting at every impact. Dean managed to drive the thing to its knees before he ran out of ammo. He circled around, racing back to the highway hoping that Mary was already out of the wreck, praying that she'd had the presence of mind to get into the impala. If not he would need-

"Aagh!"

Pain, piercing and sudden gripped Dean. He stumbled and lurched, falling to the ground as his leg lit up with agony, blinding in its intensity. He rolled onto his back and glanced down to see the tip of the iron poker peeking out through his thigh. About fifteen feet behind him, the shifter rose slowly, already recovered from being shot fifteen times point blank. Dean realized it had launched the poker at him like a harpoon. Panic gripped him as the monster approached, bearing down on him with the same imposing, unstoppable inevitability as a train. Dean managed to think through the excruciating, pulsating pain of the wound, taking a quick mental inventory. He had knives on him, but he couldn't imagine they would help him now. He had another clip of bullets, but those weren't good for much aside from buying time. Even so, they were his only option. He scrambled to load them into his gun, but the shifter was upon him just as he slammed the clip into place. It kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it flying. Dean's morale vanished into the corn with the only weapon that might have been of any use to him.

The shifter put its foot in the center of Dean's chest, crushing all the breath out of him and holding him immobile as it reached for the poker still lodged in his leg. Dean grit his teeth and grabbed the shifter's leg with both hands, grunting mightily as he struggled to make it move. He put every ounce of strength he had into pushing, but couldn't force the monster to so much as budge. Meanwhile, his quarry gripped the poker and yanked. Dean screamed and spasmed as the poker ripped free from his thigh, felt the searing rush of blood as it became a river beneath him. The shifter raised the poker high, expressionless even in victory as it prepared to kill Dean.

"Hey!"

Gunshots rang out around them, following the sound of Allison's harsh voice. The shifter gasped and stumbled, releasing Dean as it took another round of fire.

"Allison! Get Mary and GO!" Dean shouted desperately. "Silver won't hurt it! GO NOW!"

It was too late. Allison emptied her clip while the shifter only grimaced and shook off the barrage, staggering toward her. As it reached her, she pulled out a silver knife and tried to stab it. The shifter intercepted the blow, grabbing her wrist. It twisted with brutal, decisive force and Allison screamed as her arm broke. The shifter thrust the poker through her chest, letting her fall to her knees at its feet.

"ALLISON!"

Dean shouted helplessly and met her eyes as she choked on her own blood. Time slowed down around them as the breeze danced through the swaying corn stalks and a cloud cast its shade over them. Death entered the clearing and cast his chill over the combatants, patiently waiting for the defeated to breathe their last and accept his embrace.

"Mary!"

Allison's words were inaudible, muted by the blood dripping past her lips and Dean's own shock, but he read her lips and knew what she was saying. A shiver ripped through his already shaky limbs that he knew had nothing to do with the cloud cover. He was losing too much blood, head spinning with dizziness as weakness overtook him.

"Mary... save Mary."

Allison had no death throes, only that last, plaintive plea. Her features contorted with agony and effort as she twisted the fingers at the end of her broken arm into the shapeshifter's clothes. Her left hand crept into her jacket and Dean realized what she was doing. Her insane last resort, a Smith's equivalent to a cyanide pill. She knew she was dying. She wasn't going out quietly or alone. Words from a discussion they'd had long ago came back to him with terrifying clarity.

"Going gently into the night is for pussies. All hunters should go out with a bang."

From twenty feet away, Dean somehow heard the click of pin being pulled from a grenade. With no time to crawl away, all he could do was curl into a ball and roll to face away from Allison's final effort to save her family. The shifter wrenched free of her weak, broken grasp and turned to finish Dean off. Before it could take a step, the world was ripped apart by an explosion. The blast impacted Dean like a tidal wave, rocking him as burning corn and scorched earth rained down. His ears rang and for a minute he wondered if he was dead. He managed to uncurl, however, unable to marvel at the fact that he was still in one piece. He was too in shock, too numb from blood loss and the impending realization of what Allison had just done. He couldn't bring himself to look back, couldn't stomach the thought of what he might see.

Getting up was the hardest thing Dean had ever done in his entire life. Allison's last words echoed in his head, urging him to move, commanding him to push onward. He stumbled, senseless and unfeeling through the rows of corn, following the path of destruction back to the freeway. His body was cold and numb, shock protecting him from both emotional and physical pain as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other through sheer force of will.

Mary. Mary. Mary.

He could think of nothing but her name as the world dimmed and blurred around him and he careened forward single-mindedly, carried forward more by gravity than his own effort. The ringing in his ears settled into a thin, high-pitched whine that faded slowly. He could see the highway and he could almost hear the world again.

"Daddy! Auntie Ally! Daddy!"

Mary's screams reached him, distant and warped as if from underwater. He saw her running toward him, saw her tears, saw blood covering her from wounds that were already healed. She slammed into him, but he was too weak to withstand the force of her embrace. He fell to his knees and she sobbed harder and pulled his singed jacket urgently.

"Daddy! Daddy are you ok?!"

"Mm-hm."

"Daddy!"

Mary kept crying but her voice was getting more distant with each passing second. The world grew darker and it dawned on Dean that his will was no match for his injuries. He was fighting as hard as he could and it wasn't making a difference. He wasn't going to be able to get Mary out of here. She was going to be stranded on the side of the road, miles from the city, miles from help.

"Mary... call... Sam. Call... your Uncle."

Dean wished he could comfort his daughter, but those words were all he could manage. The darkness surged forward to claim him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a tall, thin woman in a black suit. She was the last thing he saw before unconsciousness claimed him.

Mary's father went limp in her embrace and she cried and screamed hysterically.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

He was too heavy for her to hold up and she was forced to the ground with his head in her lap.

"Daddy wake up!"

She shook him and shrieked, hyperventilating as absolute panic, complete despair gripped her.

"DADDY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Dean didn't respond and Mary could do nothing but wail. She was too distraught to remember her father's final instructions, too distressed to find her father's phone and call her Uncle Sammy. She was too young, too inexperienced in tragedy to do the smart thing. All the child could do was pray silently from her heart while she screamed and kept trying to rouse her father's mangled body.

Please help me, please help my Daddy, please help me, please help my Daddy, please help me, please help my Daddy!

"Shush, now."

The voice was firm, hardly comforting. It came from behind and cut through Mary's grief like a knife, upsetting her even more when she recognized it as Dean's. Strong hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her away from her father's body. Mary kicked and shrieked, punched and scratched as the shapeshifter dragged her back to the highway.

"NO! NO! DADDY! LET ME GO! DADDY!"

She fought with every fiber of her being, every bit of strength in her little body, but it was hopeless. The monster carried Mary away.

Chapter Text

One Day Earlier

Castiel's claim that he played bingo on Thursdays was true only in the strictest technical sense. Castiel played the absolute bare minimum bingo on Thursdays that he felt allowed him to excuse his weekly absence to Allison and Mary without lying. Once that chore was complete, he left and got down to business.

In the alley behind the nursing home that provided his alibi, Castiel approached a brunette in a leather jacket and heeled ankle boots. She leaned against the wall while she waited, launching off jauntily when she spotted him.

"Make any more old ladies cry today, Clarence?"

"What did you find?"

"You first."

Meg and Castiel squared off face to face, the demon standing her ground firmly despite the fact that the angel's host was nearly a foot taller than hers.

"I seriously wanna know," she grinned, hands on her hips as she awaited an answer.

Castiel stared her down for a few seconds, but he knew from past experience that the easiest way to expedite this exchange would be to give her what she wanted.

"No, I intentionally lost to avoid upsetting Gladys again."

"Wow, you really are too good for this world. A sweet little cinnamon bun, too good, too pure."

"Did you find anything?"

"Right down to business. You're hurting my feelings, Clarence. You think you're too good to chit-chat, make a little small talk with the likes of me?"

"Yes."

Meg laughed at him.

"You're not wrong. Ok, ok. I did find something. I'm not sure that it helps me much, but you should be excited about it."

Castiel waited and finally prompted her to continue.

"Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Depends. What's in it for me?"

"I will continue to refrain from smiting you."

"Please, and break up our little partnership?"

"We are not partners."

"Oh? So what is this then? Lay it out for me, sweetheart, I hate an undefined relationship."

"You are currently of use to me."

"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel valued," Meg said with a roll of her eyes. "That was sarcasm, by the way."

"I'm aware."

No one could live with Dean as long as Castiel had without learning how to detect a sardonic undercurrent in the conversation. The ability to tell when sarcasm was present didn't mean that Castiel was any more amused by its use than he was seven years ago.

"This world is plagued by demons," Castiel went on. "One might even say overrun. Tell me what you know or I'll find someone else who will."

"You'll find another demon willing to get into bed with an angel?" Meg asked critically, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning heavily to one side. Her expression challenged Castiel's clearly flawed logic. "Come on, Clarence, we've got a year under our belts already. Don't throw away a good thing."

"Tell me what you know and we can continue our work together. You shouldn't need extra incentives, Meg."

"Easy for you to say. I'm doing all the legwork while you play house with the Smithchesters."

"Meg!"

"Seriously, I want something for my trouble."

Castiel's blade dropped from his sleeve and he raised it threateningly. Meg didn't flinch or blink. She tapped her foot impatiently while the seconds stretched on and Castiel still didn't strike her down.

"Can we speed this little ritual up tonight?" Meg finally sighed. "I know you need to pretend to hate working with me for appearances and all, but I get it. Everyone gets it. You're not happy about our arrangement, you're not stoked about holding up your end of the deal, but come on. Give it a rest and just ask me what I want already."

Castiel hated her with a passion he had previously never imagined possible. Still, he couldn't deny that he needed her. Where he was completely alone in the world, Meg had a network, Meg had contacts. She could dig deeper than he, go places where his presence would cause so much of a stir as to destroy the leads he was chasing. Meg was his envoy to the dark, demonic forces that could tell him what he desperately longed to know.

Where were all the rest of his kind? Why was it that in seven years he had yet to hear from any of them, had yet to receive revelation, yet to receive the help he had begged for so emphatically at times?

"Come on, Clarence," Meg egged. "It's no biggie. You might even enjoy it."

Castiel tucked his blade away.

"What do you want, Meg?"

"Well, I was thinking about asking you to reach down into the deepest pits of hell and free the dark lord satan from his prison, but... I decided I would settle for a night on the town."

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to take me out sometime."

"I do not understand."

"Come out for drinks with me. Get into a little trouble, raise a little hell. I'd pay good money to see you try out karaoke."

"I've tried karaoke. I found the experience to be gratuitous and unimpressive."

"Casssssss! Cas, come on," Meg said, clapping her hands together and leaving them that way, pleading with him. "Humor me!"

"What is it you really want?" Castiel asked, eyes narrowing as he examined the demon, searching her posture and expression for ulterior motives.

"I want to have some fun! Tell me you don't think you would be a fun drunk."

"I have never partaken in the sin of alcoholism and I do not intend to-"

"Well, I guess I'll take myself out then," Meg said with a loud sigh. "Me and my information that you would definitely be super, extra interested to know about... Shame you'll never know what it is."

She turned and started to walk away. Castiel appeared in front of her again. His usual neutral expression was gone, replaced with an annoyed scowl.

"Tell me what you found."

"Take me out."

"Meg."

"Cas."

Castiel let a phrase marinate in his mouth for a few seconds, swishing it around beneath his tongue and through his teeth. His mouth contorted unnaturally as he let it slip out, resenting every syllable.

"Please, tell me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Meg mused, turning her ear toward him.

"Please."

"Pretty please with honey on it?"

"Yes. Pretty please with... with honey on it," Castiel said, feeling terribly silly and hating Meg all the more intensely for making him feel that way.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Meg purred, incurably satisfied with herself. "Tell you what. I'll tell you what I found out, and if you like it, you promise you'll take me out sometime?"

"Sometime convenient."

"Of course. I'd hate to impose."

"Very well."

"You're not the only angel on earth."

"Impossible. There are no other angels on earth."

"No, there's one," Meg held up a finger.

"I would have felt their presence."

"You're telling me there's no way you featherheads can hide from each other?" Meg asked, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest. Castiel thought about it for a minute. It was indeed possible that another of his kind could intentionally conceal their presence from him, but if that was the case, it raised a disturbing quesion.

"Why would another angel hide themselves from me?"

"Maybe he's shy," Meg suggested playfully.

"Bashfulness is not a quality many of my kind are burdened with."

"Whatever you say. Look, my information is good. Whether you believe it and what you decide to do with it are up to you. I had to visit some dark, nasty places to get it, talk to some breathtakingly skeevy characters... imagine someone evil enough to make my skin crawl. Not a pretty picture, right? So, I deserve a reward for this one. What do you say, Clarence? Have some fun with me? I promise I'll show you the time of your i-dotting, t-crossing life. Maybe give that straight halo of yours a little spin, eh?"

Castiel tuned out most of what Meg said. The news she bore was indeed very exciting. He kept a blank expression, a 'poker face' as Dean called it, but secretly, his heart leapt at the discovery. The second emotion that hit him was overwhelming confusion. He had many questions and he chose his first carefully.

"Who is this other?" he asked, taking care to keep all traces of his thoughts out of his tone.

"Did you even hear anything I just said?" Meg demanded.

"Yes, Meg, you did very well," Castiel commended her, the praise hollow and hurried. "Now please, I require more details. Who is the angel?"

"Can't say. All I know is that they're here and they're on the move," Meg informed him.

"We have to track them down. I must speak with them."

"Doesn't seem like they want to be found. You sure you want to open that can of worms?"

"There are no worms."

"Sure about that? You haven't heard from any others like you in years, right? How many times have you reached out by now? A million, or a million and one?"

"Your point?"

"This guy's been here since before you showed up to grace our little earthly plane. He's been ignoring you this long, hiding himself, the whole nine. I'm just saying, sometimes the smart move is to leave well enough alone when someone obviously doesn't want to be found."

"Your services have been much appreciated, Meg," Castiel told her, ignoring her and bulldozing his way past the topic. "So much so that I will indeed, 'go out on the town' with you one day. In the mean time, it will interest you to know that I have uncovered the location of the item you seek."

"What? You have?" Meg demanded, taken aback. "I... I didn't even think you were really looking for it."

"I didn't need to look. I have known its location this whole time."

"All damn year?!"

"Excuse my reticence regarding the information. I feared you would withdraw your assistance the minute I gave it up."

"So, where is it?"

"Cairo. I have an address, as a matter of fact."

Meg sputtered and gaped, struggling to find words through her disbelief.

"And... and... you're just giving me the address?" she finally managed. "You can't possibly trust me... You know I'm up to no good, right? You know I'm gonna use it to-"

"I am aware of your ill intentions, Meg. I don't find them to be all that concerning."

"What?! Why not?! What, you don't think I have the juice to pull it off?!" Meg demanded.

"No, I believe you are more than capable of achieving your goal," Castiel assured her.

"Wow," Meg sighed, clicking her tongue and looking the angel up and down with renewed fascination. "Wow, I can't believe your precious integrity is so important to you that you actually went through with it. Incredible. You're such an insufferable goody-two shoes it's almost sickening!"

"My word is very important to me. However, I must confess that my reservations in regards to our deal were tempered significantly by my confidence that someone will stop you."

"That's presumptive of you. You didn't tell anyone what I'm up to, did you? You promised you wouldn't."

After such a grand gesture of good faith, Meg had a hard time believing Castiel would have broken his secondary promise.

"Of course not. I may, however, have tipped Sam Winchester off to the existence of the artifact you seek," Castiel said. His perfectly neutral facade cracked a little, the slightest hint of a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth and betraying his satisfaction with himself. "Of course, I refrained from revealing the exact nature of the object and the fact that you seek it as well."

"Sneaky bastard," Meg scoffed. She should have been outraged at the revelation, but she couldn't stop herself from grinning. "So you're not too good to exploit a loophole. I can respect that. It's good to know you're not such a pure little lamb after all. It's a little exciting, as a matter of fact. Gets me all tingly in my favorite places to tingle."

"One more thing before you go, Meg. Where was the last place this other angel is known to have been?"

"Whoa now, what makes you so sure I'm about to bolt?"

"You have what you want. Why would you stay?" Castiel asked. His head cocked ever so slightly to the right as his brow knit with mystification.

"Well, I've waited this long. What's a little while longer? Anyway, I can't wreck the world before you take me out," Meg purred, tucking her hands into her pockets and flashing him a suggestive smile that was all teeth and waggling eyebrows. "Besides, there's no way you'll be able to find this guy on your own. You still need me, Clarence."

"This night of revelry I have promised is more important to you than ending the world as we know it?" Castiel asked skeptically.

"What can I say, I'm a party animal. So, we gonna find your long lost brother, or what?"

Back In The Present...

Sam rolled into Los Angeles just in time to meet a devastating wave of evening traffic.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, slowing to a complete halt on the freeway. The cars around him moved at a painstaking pace and he wasn't the only one frustrated by the paralyzing wait. Honks, curses, even a gunshot at one point filled the air as commuters inched forward feet at a time, bumper to bumper, sprawled out over miles of suffocating, jam-packed lanes.

Sam checked his phone for the hundredth time. He'd been waiting for Dean to call him back for hours. Now, he had the opportunity to place a call of his own without running the risk of barreling off the highway at nearly a hundred and eighty miles an hour. He hit the call button and let his car glide forward without giving it any gas, his movement slug-like. The line rang and rang and finally went to voicemail.

"Come on, Dean."

Something was wrong. Dean should have called him back by now, should have gone after Mary already. Sam tried Allison, but the line didn't even ring. It went straight to voicemail. Sam chewed his lip and put his phone away, heart hammering in his chest as anxiety and worry ate at him. His nerves were made worse by the torturous pace of the traffic holding him hostage.

It was forty-five minutes before he managed to escape the swarming hordes of commuters all fighting to make their way home for the night. He drove down Allison's street, past her house to find that Dean's car was gone. So they had already left. Why hadn't he heard anything from them?

Sam pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. He retrieved the spare key from under a false bottom in the mailbox, but when he went to unlock the door, he realized it had never been locked to begin with. Dean and Allison had left in such a hurry that they forgot to lock up behind themselves. Dread had been settled in the pit Sam's stomach all day, slowly metastasizing. Now it threatened to consume him as he threw the door open and stepped into the dark house. The only sound was his heavy breathing and thunderous footsteps as he searched for clues, anything that could give him a hint as to where Allison and Dean had gone.

He flipped the light switch in the dining room, revealing the messy aftermath of Allison's quickly contrived tracking spell. The room reeked of pitch and herbs, strong enough to make Sam's nose crumple as a low groan escaped him. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve as he approached the table, examining the broken bowl and drying paste. He recognized this spell. It was Allison's go-to when she needed to find family. Sam was struck by an idea. He checked his phone one last time, then ran outside to tear his trunk apart. Knives, talismans, guns, ammo, stakes, all tossed aside as he rooted around, searching for the one thing that could help him find Allison and his brother, searching for...

A compass!

Sam found it, buried in a corner of his trunk under the bag containing his unwashed laundry. He snatched it up and raced back into the house, enduring the stench of the paste as he ripped out one of his hairs. He scooped up a dab of the putrid concoction and rubbed it across the bottom of the compass. He wrapped his hair around the compass three times, the paste effectively gluing it into place.

"Crap!"

Sam knew there was an incantation that activated the spell, but he struggled to remember it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried out words, stumbling over the latin before it finally came back to him.

The needle spun wildly for a brief moment, then settled. Sam was already on his way out the door by the time it stilled. He burnt rubber as he screeched out of Allison's driveway, checking his phone one last time as he got up to speed, rounding corners furiously in his race to find his family.

Still no word from either of them.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Meg searched an apartment in Brussels for any trace of the entity they sought.

"This makes no sense," Castiel grumbled, regarding the richly, colorfully furnished space with confused disdain. "What business would an angel have in an abode such as this?"

"You got me there," Meg replied, thumbing through a dvd collection in an entertainment center. She selected a title and held it up to show Cas. "Whoever this guy is, his halo isn't nearly as straight as yours, Clarence."

"Casa Erotica Volume 7. Extra Sausage Delivery... I do not understand. Was he researching the art of pizza delivery?"

"Ok, you're officially too much," Meg chortled. "Tell you what..."

She pulled Castiel's coat open and tucked the movie into one of its inner pockets. She closed his coat and patted the dvd with a mischievous smile.

"Give that a watch sometime and get back to me when you understand."

She winked at him and went back to searching the apartment.

"I 'm confused. Do you think it will help our investigation? If so, we should watch it immediately."

"Whoa there, sweet cheeks, I'm a respectable gal," Meg protested, barely holding back her laughter at his naivety. "I'm all for taking this relationship to the next level, but for heaven's sake, at least buy me a drink first."

"You're doing it again, Meg," Castiel growled unhappily. "Speak plainly or do not speak at all."

"Such a sourpuss. I'm going to check out the bedroom. If this guy keeps his porn in the living room, I can only imagine what goodies are waiting in the 'ol boudoir. You take the kitchen, vanilla cake. Try not to get too excited looking in the guy's vegetable drawer."

"I no longer know if you are employing euphemisms or not," Castiel sighed. He made his way to the kitchenette. Aside from the abundance of candy he found in the cabinets, his search of the premises yielded no remarkable discoveries.

"There's nothing in here but chocolate, various bubbly alcohols and... fine wines," Castiel called, reading the label of a red that claimed to be older than Meg. He considered taking it as a gift for Allison. While he disapproved of her latest habit, he did still owe her a favor for talking Dean out of going skydiving for his birthday a few years ago.

"Nothing fun in here either, shockingly," Meg called from the bedroom.

Please help me, please help my Daddy!

Castiel stiffened and raised his head, wine forgotten as a familiar voice invaded his awareness. Mary's prayer was fervent and fearful, her tone clouded with despair and desperation. The mention of Dean was especially alarming. Castiel wasted no time, teleporting back to the side of the man he was still dutifully protecting after all these years.

"Clarence, I'm gonna call it," Meg sighed unaware, making her way to the kitchenette. "This is a bust."

A crash and the unmistakable din of shattering glass spurred her to a run, rounding the corner into the tiny kitchen to find it empty. Castiel was gone, the bottle of wine smashed on the floor, dropped in his haste.

"Castiel?" Meg called, so stupefied by his sudden, unannounced disappearance that she forgot to use her pet name for him. "Castiel! You bird-brain! Where the hell are you?"

She knew he could hear her, wherever he was. Still, he offered no sign, no response. After a few minutes, she scoffed and stepped around the spilled wine.

"Aren't you a courteous one," she sighed sarcastically.

Castiel flew to Dean's side just in time to see something wearing Dean's face drive off in the impala. Castiel glanced from the battered body lying on the ground at his feet, to the rapidly disappearing car and back again.

"Dean?"

No response.

Castiel crouched and laid a hand on the back of Dean's head. He was mortally wounded, but not quite yet dead. Confusion filled Castiel. It had been years since Dean gave up hunting. What was he doing out here? What had hurt him so badly? What had caused the immense destruction that surrounded them?

"Excuse me."

A high, thin voice, nasal and unpleasant, managed to startle Castiel. Very few things in existence were capable of sneaking up on him. He looked up and locked eyes with a reaper, wearing the guise of a woman.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked crossly, hands on her hips as she towered over the angel.

"I am healing this man."

"He's almost dead."

"Yes. That is why I am healing him."

"Leave well enough alone, dominion," the reaper hissed, surprising Castiel with its ferocity. Usually reapers were passive beings, content to sit on the sidelines and wait for fate to play out.

"I have been tasked with-"

"I am aware."

"Then why-"

"Heal this man and he will officially have evaded his demise more times than any other human in the entire history of the species. It's high time someone put an end to this foolishness."

"I apologize if Dean Winchester's continued survival has managed to offend you."

"It has."

"But I cannot allow him to die as of yet."

"And when will you 'allow' him to die?"

"I await further instructions on the matter."

"You await- Child, no further instructions will come your way," the reaper sneered. "Or didn't you get the memo? Nearly all the rest of your kind have withdrawn from this world."

"I am aware that the earth is currently devoid-"

"The Earth?! They really didn't bother to clue you in, did they? They left without you?" the reaper demanded, nonplussed by the realization. Dean stirred on the ground between them, almost fully revived. The reaper began to fade, melting away as its target slipped beyond its grasp.

"Left? Where did they go? Clue me in to what?" Castiel asked, too late. The reaper had already vanished.

Dean pushed himself up off the ground, looking around in a daze.

"Cas... where's Mary?" he asked as it all came flooding back in a devastating wave, reality hitting him like a gut punch.

"I don't know where she is, only that it was her prayers that alerted me to the situation. Dean, what happened here?"

"There's a thing... I thought it was a shapeshifter at first- Well, at first I thought it was Alice, but I guess it's not, so I just thought- hey, we don't have time for this! You need to go find Mary right now!"

"Dean-"

"Wait, wait! Allison! We have to go back! You brought me back just now, right?!"

"I brought you back from the brink of death, if that-"

"You have to help Allison!"

Dean stood and started pulling Castiel toward the corn field, now ablaze at its middle point. The fire was spreading slowly but surely toward them.

"Dean, I can't-"

"She's this way, you can help her, you can-"

"DEAN!"

Castiel shouted and jerked himself free, stopping Dean in his tracks.

"Allison isn't here. I don't feel her at all," Castiel told him. "Tell me what happened."

"The shifter- or, whatever that thing is..."

Dean trailed off, choking up as he glanced at the advancing flames.

"It killed Allison," Castiel realized. Dean's silence served as confirmation.

"You can fix it, can't you Cas?"

Castiel held his silence for a moment, honoring Allison's passing in his own way with a bowed head and a silent prayer for her safe passage onward.

"Can't you, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"Dean, it's one thing to heal someone. It is another entirely to resurr-"

"You did it for me! Hell, you've done it more than once!"

"It's not that simple, Dean. When it comes to you, I have permission. I have-"

"I swear to god if you say you have orders I'm going to stab you! Cas, it's Allison!"

"I know-"

"She's the closest thing Mary has to a mother, she's the closest thing I have to..."

Dean couldn't finish, couldn't find a word to quantify what Allison meant to him fast enough. Where Mary was his world, Allison had become his rock. Mary was the wind in his sails, Allison was his anchor. The ten year age difference between them made her his mentor, made her the wisest, most experienced person in their little home. She was the glue that held their family together. Without her encouragement, Dean would never even have met his daughter, let alone had the chance to raise her. It was Allison who pulled a stable environment virtually out of thin air so that Mary wouldn't have to go through what Dean had at her age, the moving and the uncertainty. Never knowing where you would be tomorrow, wondering whenever you met someone new how long it would be before you lost them.

For everything Allison had given Dean, everything she'd done for him or bullied him into going through with, the things she had done for Mary rose above and beyond. For all their fights, all their disagreements, all the differences in their styles and opinions, Dean would never be able to repay Allison for being there for his daughter, even when he hadn't been. He didn't know what he would do without her.

While Dean fought to find the right words, Castiel's expression became sorrowful, but resolute. Dean recognized the look.

"Dean, she was my friend too," Castiel said, the sincerity in his tone going unnoticed by Dean as anger rose in him. "If there was something I could do-"

"You son of a bitch!"

Dean knew from experience what the look on Castiel's usually serene face meant. There weren't enough words on earth or in heaven to move the angel to act. His decision was already made and there was nothing Dean could do that would change it.

Dean cursed and raged while the fire spread closer and closer. Castiel waited for him to work through his repertoire of slurs, hoping he would wind down before the flames reached them. He took too long for Castiel's comfort, however, so Castiel reached for Dean's shoulder. Dean swatted his hand away and kept ranting.

"- after everything we've been through, everything she did for us, you just don't give a damn! How can you just not care enough to-"

Castiel had restrained his emotions in the face of Dean's desolation, but he lost his composure at Dean's accusation that he didn't care.

"That's enough!"

Castiel grabbed Dean with both hands and dragged him away from the fire. He could have teleported them, but he felt like making a point. Dean forgot what he was. Castiel intended to remind him. Dean grunted and shouted, struggling against his hold, but Castiel dealt him a rough smack that sent him flying toward the freeway. Sirens blared in the distance, growing closer with every second as the blaze behind the angel and his ward grew larger and burned hotter.

"Don't presume to know the extent of my affection for Allison Smith!" Castiel snapped, bearing down on Dean. "You forget, I've been with you every step of the way! All these years, I've been by your side! I've held my silence, I've tolerated your blatant disregard, even your outright disdain, Dean Winchester! I've plucked Mary from dangers you never knew about! You never knew because I was always there, I was always watching, I was always protecting the family you so willfully exclude me from!"

Dean rose, nursing a split lip. Castiel somehow managed to loom over him, despite the fact that Dean had the high ground. With the flames at his back and the fire of wrath burning in his eyes, Castiel looked the part of the avenging angel.

"You have the audacity," Castiel ranted on, stepping up to get in Dean's face, "to drag her out on a hunt, put her in harm's way, then blame me when I am unable to save her? Do not foist your guilt upon me, Winchester. This calamity is on your head! And I refuse to stand here and act as the outlet for your frustrations."

Castiel shoved past him. Again, he could have teleported, but again, his actions were strongly intentional, meant to signal his seriousness to the human in a way that words couldn't capture. The angel was still learning the subtleties of body language, but he'd watched Dean and Allison fight enough battles to know how to convey the brash, clear messages of scorn.

"If you need me, as you so often do, I'll be at home," he informed Dean over his shoulder as he prepared to take his leave, "comforting Mary. As you should be."

"Mary's not at home."

Dean's words stopped Castiel in his tracks. Up to that moment, he had assumed that Dean and Allison ran out chasing a monster and it went wrong. He assumed Mary was hunkering in her room, praying for her father's safe return. If that wasn't the case...

"I didn't drag Allison out hunting some random monster," Dean went on, quiet rage smoldering under his words that he contained carefully. Now wasn't the time to risk Castiel's wrath. There were more pressing matters at hand, matters that needed to be addressed before they degenerated into squabbling. "The monster came to us. It took Mary. We were just... Cas, we were trying to get her back. And now... now Allison's gone, my car's gone, Mary's gone, the monster... everything is gone. I don't know where they went, I don't even know where to begin. All I..."

Dean took a deep breath, telling himself that the tears stinging his eyes were just the result of the smoke billowing into the air, surrounding them in a layer that threatened to choke them as they stood in its midst.

"All I know is I have to save my daughter."

Castiel turned back to Dean, expression indecipherable. Dean searched for any indication that his words had impacted the angel, but found none. He was forced to wait for Cas to speak.

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" Castiel asked at last.

"I..."

Dean was ashamed to admit that it was spite that had kept him from summoning his protector. It felt like a lifetime ago that Mary had told him about her discussion with the angel. Dean still took the insult to his daughter's humanity seriously, but in hindsight, he couldn't help but despair at the thought that had he called Cas for help, Allison would still be alive.

"I... I didn't think," Dean found himself saying. He couldn't admit the real reason aloud. "It all happened so fast... Mary was gone and we were in such a rush to get her back, we thought it was just a shapeshifter... Cas, I've killed a dozen shifters. We had no idea this would go so sideways. It never even crossed our minds... we didn't think..."

"You have a lot of practice at not thinking," Castiel scowled. "From now on, try the opposite."

Dean was too weary, too guilt-ridden, too busy struggling to breathe through the smoke clogging the air to snap back at him.

"I will help you find Mary," Castiel informed him. "Wait here. I have one final thing to attend to before I give this crisis my full attention."

"What-"

Castiel was already gone, leaving Dean on the side of the highway as fire trucks barreled toward him. The sun was setting behind the fire in the corn field that was Allison's funeral pyre. The horizon was red as blood, smog and haze obscuring the sunset and casting darkness early over the scene of the tragedy. Dean gazed into the inferno, grief pulsing like fresh blood from a new wound even Cas would never be able to heal.

Silently, Dean said his good-byes to Allison Smith.

Chapter Text

Sam followed the compass, tracking his brother out onto the freeway. Ahead lay a darkening evening sky filled with billowing black smoke rising from the corn field alongside the highway. Behind him, sirens blared and a glance in his rear view revealed a fleet of fire trucks barreling down the freeway. Sam pulled onto the shoulder, allowing them to pass. He was sick with dread. As soon as he was able, he raced off after the fire trucks, following them down the highway. The blaze came into view and Sam slowed to pass the firefighters frantically working to tame the rapidly spreading inferno.

Sam spotted a lone figure, war torn on the edge of the highway, staring at the advancing flames. Dean's expression was dead and it made Sam feel sick. He screeched to a halt and stumbled out of his car.

"Dean? Dean, what the hell happened?" he demanded.

Dean's eyes slid shut and he took a deep breath. A long moment passed, the air full of the sounds of the fire and those who fought it.

"I lost her."

"Who?"

"Allison. She's gone, Sam."

"What?"

"It killed her. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do a damn thing."

Sam gaped at his brother silently as chaos raged on around them and the smoke become an unbearable burden. He coughed and grabbed Dean's arm.

"We have to go."

Dean let Sam drag him into the car. Sam took off down the freeway, struggling to clear his head as they raced away from the smoking field.

"Dean, where's Mary?" Sam asked. He felt numb in the wake of the news of Allison's death. It wasn't real yet. Sam pushed forward mechanically, focused on anything that would keep the shock of her sudden passing from fading. He didn't have time to deal with grief at the moment.

"That thing still has her. It got away... whatever it is."

"It's not a shifter?"

"We hit it with three, four clips of silver bullets, Sam. It shrugged it off and walked away like it was nothing. Didn't even slow it down."

"But it did change shapes?"

"It showed up wearing Alice's face and left wearing mine, so... maybe it didn't physically change shapes?" Dean suggested. "Maybe it can project pictures into people's heads. Like a mirage."

"Maybe."

Sam flipped through a mental list of creatures, scratching his brains out trying to come up with something that could do what Dean was talking about while being impervious to silver.

"So it just... took Mary? Why?"

"You know as much as I do at this point," Dean told him.

"Ok. Well we need to get Bobby on the horn, Dean. We need to know what we're hunting before we can take it down."

"I know."

"What about Cas? Or is he still dead to you?"

"The thing took off in my car after we attacked it. All that warding... there's no way Cas'll be able to find them."

Sam shook his head, but bit his tongue. He had long disapproved of all the angel-proof warding Dean covered the impala in, but now didn't seem like the best time to throw an 'I-told-you-so' in his face.

"There's another question we need answered," Sam went on instead. "Whatever this thing is, why does it want Mary?"

Dean shook his head silently.

"We don't have time now," he said. "But when this is over... after we get Mary back... after I kill this son of a bitch... we're gonna need to do something for Allison."

"Yeah. I know."

Nothing else was said on the matter of a memorial for their fallen friend. Loss in the midst of battle was a heartache both brothers were acquainted with all too well. The best way for them to honor Allison's memory was to save Mary. It was her final wish, all she would have wanted from them.

"We'll get her back, Dean."

Sam's assurance was quiet, steadfast. He spoke with the certainty of someone offering the solace that the sun would rise the next morning.

"Yeah. I know."

Dean was shell-shocked and Sam knew from experience that there was no way in hell they would be able to hold a conversation.

"Good."

One Week Later

"I'm only going to ask once. After that, I'm going to start slicing pieces off of you until you spill your guts. Whether you spill them literally or figuratively is up to you. Where is she?"

Dean loomed menacingly over a shifter bound to a chair. Its eyes darted to the hallway behind the hunter, littered with the bodies of her brethren. Sam stalked off, gun at the ready, stepping over puddles of blood as he searched the house for more shifters. The one in the chair was hyperventilating, filled with terror. Dean could tell he'd lost its attention. He flipped the knife in his hand and sunk it into the shifter's shoulder. It screamed and shook, trying in vain to squirm away. The blade wasn't silver. Dean was prepared to be here all day if need be.

He, Sam and Castiel had been chasing the compass needle after Mary all week, but they could never seem to catch up to her. Finally, their search led them here, to a house where ten shapeshifters were holed up. They turned it into a bloodbath, with one exception. Dean was tired of chasing needles. He wanted his daughter back. He wanted revenge for Allison. He wanted it now. While Castiel took the compass and kept up the dogged pursuit on his own, Dean was seizing the opportunity to take matters into his own hands.

The shifter shrieked, wounds healing as fast as Dean dealt them. He slashed and stabbed, expressing his anger and frustration with the blade while he kept his face blank.

"Who?! Who?! I don't know who you're looking for!"

Dean held his silence. He hacked off fingers, gouged out an eye, spilled guts and twisted the knife behind the shifter's kneecap. The ear-splitting symphony of its agony echoed through the desolate house, vibrating through the old wood and creating ripples in the pools of shifter blood that decorated the floors.

"I don't know who you're looking for! I don't know who you're looking for! I don't know!"

Blood spattered, dousing Dean and his carefully maintained expression of cold indifference. The shifter begged and shouted but Dean didn't let up. Dean stripped away skin that immediately grew back, pried off fingernails, snapped tendons and sunk the knife into all the most painful joints on the shifter's body. A veritable lifetime in hell left Dean with one gift, one parting benefit that didn't make up for all the torment, but sure came in handy at a time like this; Dean knew a million and one ways to tear someone apart, a million and one places you could stick a knife to exact the greatest toll on body and mind. Thanks to his thirty years in the hotbox, Dean understood something that most of the living never would, never could. True torture was three parts mental, one part physical. Pain didn't break people; Fear broke people. Hopelessness. Nothing in existence was more horrifying than the moment when you realized no one was going to save you.

Despite Dean's resolve and experience, the shifter refused to break. Sam returned, watching the scene unfold from the doorway. Dean was too focused on his work to notice his brother's arrival. He looked on, wordless horror welling up in him at the things he saw his older brother doing. He felt no pity for the shifter, but he realized he was bearing witness to a side of Dean that was usually locked away. Sam watched his brother become a monster and he said a silent prayer that when this was finally over, Dean would come back.

"Dean, this isn't getting us anywhere," Sam finally said. He was hardened to violence after a lifetime immersed in it, but the things he was seeing were sickening enough to turn even his stomach. "It's time to move on."

Dean stopped sawing vertically through the things thigh just long enough to meet Sam's eyes. Its agonized screams tapered off into whimpers during the brief respite. Sam shuddered under Dean's intense gaze. He felt like it was tearing him apart, nevermind the fact that he was just a bystander. Sam saw fury, determination, and something even scarier. Something he hoped he was misreading.

Sam thought he saw crazed, manic glee in his brother's eyes.

"You're right," Dean said. Sam felt a little relief. He was glad he'd been able to talk Dean into letting it go. For a minute, he'd been afraid his brother was enjoying this.

"This is child's play. I don't know what I was thinking, going so lightweight. She'll never talk at this rate. It's time to get serious."

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. He cleared his throat.

"Well, that's not what... I mean... get serious? What are you-"

"You freaks are gonna rue the day you screwed with my family," Dean promised the shifter, rolling his sleeves up. He grabbed her by the chin, tilting her face up. She sobbed and squirmed against the ropes binding her.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Dean-"

"Look at me!" Dean barked, loud and sudden enough to make even Sam jump a little. "Look at me, bitch, or I'll carve your eyes out with silver!"

Shaking, whimpering, the terrified shifter met Dean's gaze. Hell burned behind his icy eyes, horrible and framed with splashes of her blood. Dean released her and took a step back.

"Dean, what-"

"Animam ad animam," Dean recited. "Cor ad cor. Tenebrae ad tenebrae."

Sam frowned. The incantation sounded familiar. He translated the phrase in his mind, trying to work out its meaning.

Soul to soul. Heart to heart. Darkness to...

"Dean, what are you-"

"You're already dead," Dean informed the shifter, unsheathing a silver knife. He nicked her cheek with it. She cried while the wound steamed and blood dripped in a thin line down her face. "Tell me where she is, and you can be dead fast. Keep me waiting..."

Dean fixed her with an intent glare and her shrill, earth-shattering screams ripped the house apart. Sam flinched away and covered his ears with his palms, wincing as her shrieks only intensified with every second that ticked by. It had been a very, very long time since Sam had seen a Torxing. Not long enough.

The shifter arched violently and the chair tipped dangerously, threatening to fall over. Without breaking his concentration, Dean leaned forward, putting all his weight on the arms of the chair and the shifter's wrists, holding it down while she howled. Blood soaked through her sleeves and dripped slowly to the floor while Dean's old Torxing marks opened as Sam watched. Blood poured down Dean's arms, mixing with the shifter's and pooling on the floor at their feet. The puddle grew at a pace that alarmed Sam.

"Dean! Dean! STOP!" Sam yelled. He rushed forward and shook his brother, breaking his concentration long enough for the shifter to catch her breath. It wasn't the shifter Sam was worried about.

"Sam, get off me!" Dean shouted, shoving Sam back hard. He stumbled, nearly hitting the wall from the force of the push. "I'm breaking this bitch if it's the last damn thing I do!"

"Dean, I want to find her as bad as you do, but this is too much! You're losing a lot of blood, man!"

"If you don't like it, you can leave!"

"There are other ways-"

"Sam, I'm fine!"

Dean whipped back around to the shifter and grabbed her by the throat, tipping the chair onto its back legs as he pressed the tip of the silver knife to her eye.

"I can do this all day!" he hissed. "Tell me where she is!"

His brow furrowed and the shifter screamed again. This time, words fell from her lips amid the echoes of her pain. Dean let up, allowed her to catch her breath.

"B-basement! Basement! She's in the basement!"

Dean shot Sam a wide-eyed glance.

"I didn't find a basement," Sam frowned.

"Kitchen, b-behind the fridge. There's a door," the shifter groaned.

Dean was already on the move.

"Watch her!" he ordered Sam in passing.

Dean raced down the hall.

"Dean! To the left!" Sam called.

Dean changed direction on a dime, tearing through the house and sliding into the kitchen. He pushed the fridge aside, heart leaping as he found the door. It was padlocked, but Dean wasted no time, kicking it in. The wall mounted lock was ripped free of the frame and the door flew open so violently that it smashed against the wall and bounced back, slamming shut again. Dean threw it open and drew his gun, hopping down the stairs a few at a time into the darkness below. The light streaming down from the kitchen was enough to illuminate a figure curled up on the floor in the corner, chained hand and foot, and a pull cord for a single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling.

"Mary?! Mary, is that you?!"

Dean yanked the string and harsh white light flooded the concrete basement. It glinted off pristine, bright silver chains that made Dean's stomach turn. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized something that made his heart drop. Whoever this prisoner was, trapped in the stark, bloodstained concrete basement, it wasn't his daughter. It was a grown woman, barefoot and stripped down to her underwear. She cringed away from the light, hands flying up to shield her eyes, baring Torxing scars on her arms that matched Deans. Her dark blonde hair was a wild, tangled mess, matted in places with blood and dirt.

Dean lowered his gun, disappointment buried under a cascade of other emotions that battled for the lion's share of his attention. The woman on the floor was battered, bruised and covered in cuts that must have been inflicted with silver. Slowly, she peeked out from between her fingers with bright hazel eyes that Dean would have recognized anywhere.

"Alice."

Anger. Happiness. Relief. Disappointment. Bitterness. Forgiveness. Hurt. Empathy. Hate. Love. Confusion. Regret.

Conflicting emotions flashed through Dean in brief, intense pulses, collecting at the bottom of his heart like cars sliding into a catastrophic pileup. He hadn't seen Alice Smith, the real Alice, in seven years. They had a lot of unfinished business, a lot of lingering tension. Dean didn't have time to think about it at the moment.

All Alice saw was blinding light and a blurry figure standing over her. Her eyes couldn't adjust fast enough for her to see who it was, but she would have recognized that voice anywhere.

"Dean."

They were both still for a long moment, both frozen by identical internal firestorms. Questions demanded answers, years worth of unresolved, long repressed emotions suddenly surfaced and demanded satisfaction. Demanded resolution.

Now wasn't the time for satisfaction or resolution.

Dean was the first to move. He shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to Alice.

"Keys?" he asked.

She reached up with shaking arms to take the jacket and point to the opposite wall. There hung the keys that had taunted her for... she didn't know anymore.

"How the hell did you find me?" she asked as he retrieved the keys and crouched down to free her. Silver shackles fell away, revealing raw, burning ankles, flesh bubbling and peeling from the sustained contact with her kryptonite. "Hell, how... how did you even know to look? What, did Sam need help on a case?"

"We're looking for someone else," Dean said. His words were clipped, his tone sharp. Alice was finally able to make out his face, but whatever he felt at their unexpected reunion, he was keeping it well hidden. Still, Alice knew there was only one person Dean could be talking about. Only one person Dean and the shifters would share an interest in.

"Your daughter."

Dean's silence was confirmation enough.

"What happened? They took her?"

Beginning to recover from the shock of finding Alice, Dean began to put some pieces together. He'd wondered all week how the shifter that had taken Mary had found them, how it had even known she existed. Anger bubbled up in him as he finally formed a theory.

"You told them about her, didn't you?" he hissed, hesitating with the key near Alice's hands.

"I didn't tell them anything!" Alice growled. She thrust her wrists toward him, demanding freedom.

"How else could they have found us?!"

"My guess? The Alpha found out about her after he took on my form looking for more creative ways to torture my ass," Alice spat. "Whatever happened to you, to your kid, it wasn't my fault!"

"Good old Alice," Dean chuckled spitefully. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it?!"

"Can we do this after you spring me?"

"Whatever you were doing that got you tossed down here, I hope it was worth it!""

"Dean-"

"You think all they did was take Mary?! You think I'm just gonna set you loose and you can walk away from this like nothing happened?!"

"Do I LOOK like I've been a guest of honor?! My time here hasn't been silk sheets and caviar! I'm sorry your kid's missing, but-"

"Allison's dead!"

Dean hurled the words at her like a punch and Alice flinched harder than she would have if he had just hit her.

"What?"

Dean stood, taking the key with him. Alice gawked up at him, shuddering as she wondered if he was going to leave her here. His words echoed through her head, burned themselves into her heart like a brand.

"She died trying to get Mary back. She died because of you, and... whatever the hell it is you were doing here. So I hope it was worth it, Alice. I really, really do."

Disdainfully, Dean tossed the key at her feet and walked away, leaving her to contend with the aftermath of the grim news. He stomped up the stairs slowly, consumed with hatred. He knew it wasn't fair to hate Alice for this, got the feeling that whatever had happened here had been out of her control, but he couldn't help himself. Truthfully, it felt good in a savage, painful way to be able to blame someone for the mess. It solved nothing, offered no solace, only a pointless outlet for all his grief and rage and guilt. A pointless outlet was all Dean really needed.

Dean made his way back to Sam and the tied up shifter.

"Well?" Sam demanded.

"Mary wasn't down there," Dean sighed. He drew a silver knife and advanced on the shifter. She trembled and whimpered as he approached, cringing away as he pressed the tip of the blade to her heart. "Wrong girl. I'm looking for Mary Grace Winchester. She's seven years old. She's my daughter and I swear to god, I'll kill every single damned one of you evil sons of bitches if that's what it takes to get her back. Can you tell me where she is, or not?"

"I don't know where he's taking her!" the shifter sobbed. "I know he's trying to outrun you, but that's all I know! I swear, that's all I know!"

Dean examined her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded with a small, empty smile. He patted her shoulder with his left hand, the gesture devoid of any of the comfort or reassurance it was meant to convey.

"I believe you."

He slid the silver knife through her chest. She cried out one more time as the blade sunk into her heart. Dean felt its final beats, vibrating through the knife before it stilled and the shifter slumped in the chair. Dean pulled the blade free and wiped it clean on her shirt before sheathing it. Sam watched wordlessly, waiting for Dean to meet his eyes. He didn't know what to say to his brother, couldn't find words to express the horror he felt at the side of Dean he had just seen. So he didn't say anything. He just followed Dean out of the house.

"We'll find her, Dean," Sam assured him as the approached the front door. "We'll meet up with Cas, we'll keep following the compass... he can't run forever."

"Dean! Wait!"

Alice's voice came from down the hall, stopping Sam in his tracks. Dean ignored it and strode out the door, but Sam turned to greet Alice with shock as she limped toward him.

"Alice?! What-"

"Stop your stupid brother," Alice interrupted him, grimacing in pain as she pushed past him. "He's gonna want to hear what I've got to say."

Sam rushed past her, spotting Dean just as he got into the car. He rolled the window down and beckoned Sam.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!"

"Dean, hold up!"

"Get in the car, Sam!"

"Dude, just wait a minute!"

"Get in the car or I'm leaving without you!"

Sam stalled Dean just long enough for Alice to stumble around to the driver's side. She tapped on the window and Dean ignored her. Sam rolled his eyes and reached into the car, hitting the button to roll the window down.

"Sam-"

"Dean-"

"Dean, just hear me out!" Alice begged. "Please! I can help you!"

"I don't want your help!"

"Yeah, well you're a jerk and I won't be thrilled to be working with you again either!" Alice growled. "But I can help you find your kid, ok? And gank the thing that killed my sister."

"Not a chance!"

"Dean-"

"No way in hell, Alice!"

Sam tried to butt in.

"Dean, maybe we should-"

"This whole damn thing is your fault!" Dean shouted. He stormed out of the car to bear over Alice, backing her against the car in his anger. "All you ever do is wreck my damn life! Every time you get near me, you poison everything I have that's any good! Hell, this time you managed to turn my world upside down from what, seven hundred miles away?! You want to help me?! Get the hell away from me, stay away from my family!"

Alice was silent while Dean said his piece. He was too enraged to notice. When he was out of breath, she straightened, tightened his jacket around her body and brushed her hair out of her face.

"You done?" she asked, voice steady.

"Done with you, sure!"

"Take a breath, Dean. Think it through for a minute. Blame me til the cows come home if it makes you happy. But do you even know what you're hunting at this point?"

"A... a shapeshifter."

"Sure, but I'm guessing my sister is dead because you guys went after it guns blazing, silver bullets flying. 'Cause neither of you knew silver doesn't hurt this bastard."

Dean didn't respond. Alice had rendered him wordless, not with anything she was saying, but with her demeanor. Something was different about her. Dean looked her over, scrutinized her carefully. Alice had never been one to back down from a fight, never been one to concede an argument. She was even more hard-headed and hot tempered than her big sister had been. Alice had never been one to make peace, but if Dean didn't know better, he would have sworn that was what she stood before him trying to do.

"The thing that took your daughter isn't your run of the mill, rank and file shifter," Alice informed him. "You're dealing with the Alpha."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's the first of its kind."

"You mean..."

"Yeah. Every shapeshifter in the world can trace its family tree back to him. He's stronger than any of his children, faster, and silver's about as harmful to him as a pinprick to a tiger."

Strangely, Dean found himself having a hard time maintaining his anger toward her. She looked pitiful, dirty, covered in cuts and shivering with only his jacket to shield her from the chilly late January air. The difference in her demeanor was jarring as well, throwing him off kilter. Dean searched her mismatched hazel eyes and realized something was missing. There used to be a spark there, a fire that never stopped burning. That light was absent now. Alice's eyes were calm, deep pools of green and olive, flecked through with spots and specks of golden brown. Dean had never seen her so tame. It was almost like he was looking at a stranger.

"How do you know all this?" Sam asked from the other side of the car, interrupting Dean's tense examination of his old lover.

"I've been hunting shifters down for a few years now," Alice replied. She repaid Dean's scrutiny in kind. Stress had aged him prematurely since last she'd seen him. He couldn't be more than thirty-seven by now, but gray was starting to creep in at his temples and the corners of his eyes were creased with worry lines. Still, his eyes held hers with the same defiant determination as always. Time hadn't stripped him of his stubbornness, of the black and white worldview he'd always fostered, the one that so often verged on hypocrisy. It only took one look for Alice to realize that she was looking at the same old Dean. Time hadn't changed him one bit. It was a bittersweet revelation. Alice wouldn't trade Dean for the world, but part of her had been secretly hoping he might have changed enough to finally make them compatible.

Nothing wrong with a girl dreaming, she sighed internally.

"I probably know more about these shape-changing bastards than any other hunter on the planet," she bragged, pushing emotion aside and focusing on the case. She needed to stay professional about this. It was the only way forward. "I was already going to wipe them all off the map, Dean. What do you think I'm gonna do now that I know they killed my sister, huh? I'm hunting this son of a bitch down with or without you. We can combine resources, get it done together, get it done efficiently, or we can go our separate ways and step on each other's toes at every turn. Your choice."

Dean wanted to recapture his fury, wanted to be angry with her. He wanted to take her words as a threat, wanted to snap at her, but she was too earnest. He couldn't justify blaming her for what had happened anymore, couldn't deny that what she was saying made sense.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Dean scoffed. "Fine."

Alice nodded, but Dean wasn't done. He stuck a finger in her face severely, paired with a fierce, forced scowl.

"Make me regret letting you in on this-"

"Yeah, it'll be the last thing I ever do, yada yada, blah blah," Alice sighed wearily. "You done? 'Cause I'd like to get my hands on some clothes and something hot to eat. You buy and I'll tell you everything I know about the Alpha."

Dean nodded, feeling like he was making a pact with the devil. Still, it wasn't an offer he had the luxury of refusing. Not with his daughter on the line. As wary as he was of Alice, he couldn't deny that she was a hell of a hunter. Assuming she hadn't lost her edge since last he'd seen her, she could be just what they needed to tip the scales of this hunt in their favor.

"You've got yourself a deal."

Chapter Text

Mary was almost proving to be more trouble than she was worth. Still, the Alpha had hope that she would fall in line. He knew the Winchesters were tracking him with a spell, but he hoped that soon, that wouldn't be a problem. Lousiana was full of hoodoo practitioners. As soon as he found one, a simple hex bag would make him and his spawn invisible to the hunters.

"It's a shame we have to ditch this car," the shifter sighed. "Love me a classic. Still, it's too much heat, too recognizable. I should have switched it out two states ago."

He opened the trunk and pulled Mary out. Her legs were duct-taped together, her arms taped to her body, and a strip of tape wrapped around her head. It plopped her into the backseat of a gray nissan and pulled out a knife.

"Sweetie-pie, I hate keeping you like this," the shifter sighed. "If I take some of this tape off, do you promise to be good?"

Slowly, Mary nodded.

"No more jumping out of windows or strangling me from behind?"

Mary shook her head.

"Ok. One last chance. Don't make me regret it," the shifter chuckled. He would have loved Mary's unbreakable spirit if it wasn't turning out to be such a pain in his ass. He cut the tape off her face and arms, but left her legs bound. "There we go. That's a lot better, isn't it? Now, if you're really good, we can stop somewhere nice for dinner. Maybe hit a playground.. heck, after I take care of a little business with a witch, we could even make a run to Disneyland. You ever wanted to go to Disneyland, Mary?"

"I want to go home."

The shifter sighed and got in the driver's seat. Eventually, she would realize home was with him. With her kind. Not with a family of hunters forcing her to be something she wasn't. Forcing her to play the part of a human.

"Ok. Well if you decide you want to go anywhere else, be sure to let me know."

They started driving, and Mary busied herself removing the tape from her legs. It was layered thick and she grunted with exertion as she tore through strip after strip of the sticky stuff. The shifter focused on the road, unbothered by her efforts.

Mary got down to the last layer of tape before Castiel joined her in the backseat of the car. She whipped around to look at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, but he put a finger to his lips, urging her to remain silent. She glanced back to the Alpha and nodded to show she understood. Castiel held his hand out and she took it. With breathtaking suddenness, she found herself standing on the side of the road, still holding Castiel's hand. The Alpha shifter kept driving, unaware that he had lost his prize. Mary thumbed her nose at the car and blew a raspberry.

"Cassie!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the angel's waist. "Cassie, what took you so long?!"

"Your Father's paranoia and spite, mostly," Castiel said. He patted Mary on the head, extricating himself from her enthusiastic embrace. "Mary, where is your Father's car? As happy as he will be when I deliver you to him, he will still be extremely irate if I return without that car."

"It's that way," Mary said, pointing down the road. "Not far. Maybe five minutes."

"Good, good."

Castiel took Mary's hand again.

"Hey, can I drive us home, Cassie?" Mary asked, flashing her rescuer her most charming smile and batting her little eyelashes like a pro.

"No, your Father would murder us both were he to find out."

"Aw."

It turned out that despite having hardly eaten for nearly three weeks, food was just barely the highest priority on Alice's list.

"Sam, grab me some smokes?" Alice managed through a mouthful of pancakes and sausage.

The request threw Dean for a loop on the other side of the booth.

"Smokes?" he echoed.

"You still didn't pay me back for the last cigarette run I made for you," Sam grumbled.

"Hey, you blew out of town too damn fast for me to pay you back! You know I'm good for it," Alice protested. "Hell, I wouldn't even ask, but those damn shifters took all my crap. I don't have a penny to my name."

"Yeah, yeah. You still smoke reds?"

"Dude, I haven't had a cigarette in three weeks. You trying to kill me? Get me a pack of girly smokes. And some nicotine gum. And a patch if you see some."

Dean was speechless as Sam left and Alice was too busy chowing down to notice his disbelief.

"Since when do you smoke?" he finally managed.

"Since when? Since a long fucking time," Alice scowled, taking a break from her food to nurse a glass of orange juice. She took a moment to trip down memory lane, struggling to remember the source of her nicotine addiction. "I don't know, let me see... Oh yeah, I remember. I started way back when Danny was pregnant."

She chuckled a little, smiling wryly.

"Hey, remember Danny? Good times. Sometimes."

"How could I forget Danny?" Dean rolled his eyes. Something Alice kept doing was bugging him. "Funny way to put it."

"Put what?"

"'Back when Danny was pregnant'," Dean clarified. "So what, you just take no responsibility for Mary whatsoever?"

Alice took a long time to chew her next bite, trying to buy herself time while she thought her answer through very, very carefully. The issue wasn't exactly simple. The easy answer would have been yes, but Alice didn't want to sound like a jerk-off deadbeat parent. Sure, seven years ago all she'd been able to think about was how she didn't want a kid clinging to her figurative skirts, getting in her way at every turn. But as time went on, she'd never been able to fully ignore the ever present option of playing some role, even a minor one, in the kid's life. Admittedly, there had been times when she had been tempted to try inserting herself into the narrative.

Alice finished chewing and still needed more time. She stole Sam's untouched coffee and took a very, very slow sip. She thought about using the Smiths as an excuse. For a long time, it was true that she'd stayed out of contact with Allison, Dean and Mary because she knew her estranged extended family were waiting with bated breath for her to make an appearance. Kaydie Smith was still out for her blood, along with the rest of their brood. If Alice was being honest with herself though, she was never truly afraid of her cousins. There was a deeper terror that kept her from reaching out to Dean. A pain that even now, she hated to acknowledge, even to herself.

Alice was haunted by the memory of what she'd seen in Dean's head all those years ago when she'd tried to pull him from his self-induced coma. The perfect life he constructed for himself, the apple pie american dream complete with a white picket fence and an idyllic little family... the family where there was no room for Alice.

That was the night Alice realized there was no place in Dean's life for her. In an imaginary world where he was perfectly happy, absolutely content, there was no trace of her presence. It hurt, but Alice took the hint to heart. Thinking about it stabbed her through with pain. She cursed herself. How could she still be bleeding from such an old wound?

"It's not about that. It's not as simple as not wanting responsibility," Alice finally said, setting the coffee down after nearly a full minute of sipping. She shoved the pain away, even as she realized her refusal to face it was the reason it still felt so fresh. How could a wound heal if it was never treated?

"So what is it about?" Dean pressed, oblivious to Alice's internal struggles.

"It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it then."

"Why do you care anyway?"

It was a good question. Truthfully, Dean didn't know the answer. Part of him just liked antagonizing her. Part of him genuinely wanted to know why he and Allison had been forced to raise Mary alone.

Another part, one he buried and ignored but could never completely kill, couldn't help but hope Alice actually had a good reason. Even after her betrayal, after so long out of contact, there was a small part of Dean that still wanted to believe in Alice. Despite her long career of screwing him over and pulling dick moves, part of him still hoped that maybe she'd turned over a new leaf. Maybe she was better.

That part of him was always disappointed and after so many let downs, Dean locked it up and threw away the key. Now, it rattled the bars of its cage, begging for freedom, demanding Dean's attention.

"I don't," Dean lied.

"Ok then, I'll take the fifth. You wanna talk about killing this Alpha, or what?"

"Sure. So, silver's out. What does that leave us with?"

"I have a couple of ideas. Some of them are actually pretty creative, but... we're working with limited time now," Alice pondered. "I'm thinking the fastest way to kill this sucker is gonna be Samuel Colt's gun."

Dean frowned deeply.

"I haven't seen that thing since... damn, before hell. Not since Bela Talbot made off with it. There's no way we'll be able to find it in time."

"Not true. I know where it is. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I know."

"What? How? Where?"

"The Smiths have it. Or, I assume they have it."

"Again, how could you know that?"

"Sam didn't tell you about the whole contract-kill-for-my-soul business?"

"No."

"Wow. What, you never cared enough to ask?" Alice scoffed.

"Sorry, I was a little busy raising the daughter you abandoned," Dean shot back.

"Oh, will you let that go already?! Mr. 'get the hell away from me, stay away from my family or else'!" Alice mocked Dean's deep voice. "What do you want from me, Dean? You want an apology?"

"I want an explanation!"

"I thought you didn't care!" Alice spat. She knew Dean well enough to know that he had lied.

"That doesn't mean I don't deserve to know!"

Alice took a deep breath, managing with great effort to moderate her tone. When she spoke, Dean could hear her ire simmering behind her words, and pain she couldn't completely mask with sardonism.

"You are so full of shit, you know that? You act like I was the one who walked away, but be honest, Dean, even if I wanted anything to do with that kid, there's no way in hell you would have let me be in her life. Not after everything that happened between us. You want the truth? There it is. I stayed away because I knew that was what you wanted, ok? You made it perfectly clear that you didn't want anything to do with me, and that's fine. After what I did, I don't blame you. But for you to sit there and act like I'm some kind of villain for respecting your wishes? Come on, Dean, that's a whole new level of hypocritical and you know it."

Dean was silent for a long moment. Of all the reasons he thought he might hear from Alice, all the excuses, this wasn't one he'd prepared for. Her answer was so unexpected that it took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts and feelings up and put them into words.

"Well you could have called and said all that seven years ago," Dean pointed out. "You missed a hell of a good thing, never getting to know Mary. And Allison... she died waiting for you to reach out. I get you thinking you burned your bridges with me, but them? There's no excuse for you never letting your sister know if you were dead or alive."

Alice lowered her head. Dean waited for her to snap at him, waited for her to fight back, but she never did.

"Yeah. You're right."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. He struggled to remember if she'd ever admitted that he was right, but couldn't think of a single instance.

"Between you and me? I'll probably regret waiting so long to make a stupid phone call for the rest of my life," Alice sighed. "Just another drop in the bucket, right? Another broken bond I'm too late to fix."

Dean was struck by the sudden, intense urge to comfort her. It left him dazed, at a loss for words. Alice glanced up and frowned at the bewildered expression on his face.

"What, did I shift up a third eye?" she asked, probing her forehead like it was something that had happened to her before.

"No, I just... you're so... different."

"Different how? Good different, bad different?"

"I don't know yet."

Dean knew Alice had always tried hard to hide her true feelings, present a cool, calm exterior. He'd always been able to see through her, but now he found he couldn't. He wondered if he'd spoken too soon. Maybe Alice hadn't actually changed at all. Maybe they had just been apart for so long that he'd lost the ability to read her.

He searched her eyes one more time and decided that wasn't it, not all of it at least. He looked for the fire he was so used to seeing behind her eyes. The wild, unpredictable light, the intangible, burning essence that made Alice who she was.

"Yeah, well... that's time for you," Alice sighed. "I'm sure you're different too... somehow. You just haven't shown me how yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just..."

Alice almost held her silence, almost told him to forget it, but she couldn't bring herself to miss the opportunity to get closure.

"All these years, and you're still holding onto... everything. What happened between us... I let it go a long time ago, but you still hold all my mistakes against me. I don't know, I guess I thought you would have calmed down by now."

"Well, you only tried to sell me out to hell to save your own skin," Dean said, rolling his eyes dismissively in a poor attempt to hide the depth of his hurt. "You tell me, if our places were reversed, would you ever forgive me for pulling a move like that?"

Alice surprised him with a light laugh.

"You? Please. I'd forgive you for anything. Hell, you pulled your fair share of dick moves too, Dean. Or did you forget? I get it though. I'm not asking that from you."

"So what are you asking?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You always want something."

"Well... maybe one thing."

"I'm waiting."

"You don't have to forgive me. You don't have to trust me again, but... if we're gonna be working together, can you let our past go? Or at least just... stop throwing it in my face every time I turn around. Please?"

Dean set his jaw. Alice's eyes were plaintive, pleading with him to grant her this concession. All she had been doing since they met up was conceding. Dean figured he owed her at least one request.

"Fine. I can do that."

"Thank you."

Alice's head ached and her fingers itched. Nicotine wasn't the only fix she was missing after so long in captivity.

"One more thing... you got any holy water on you?"

"Of course."

"Can I have it?"

The request puzzled Dean a little. He hadn't had any trouble with demons since he stopped hunting to raise Mary. He still carried a flask with him out of habit and an abundance of caution, but the water inside had been there for years. He pulled it out now and handed it to Alice.

"What for?"

"Mm."

In answer, Alice uncapped the flask and took a long swig. Dean's brow knit with bewilderment and a little indignation.

"Hey! You could have just flagged down a waiter," he grumbled.

"What's taking Sam so long with those smokes?" Alice grumbled, handing Dean back the empty flask.

"You got weird, Alice," Dean sighed, shaking his head as he tucked the flask away.

"Oh, and I wasn't weird before?"

"This is a whole new level of weird. What's the deal, you trying to stop a demon from jumping you?"

"It's complicated."

"Why do you even bother saying that? Everything's always complicated with you."

"And your life is simple?"

"These days? Yeah."

"Huh. Well, good for you."

Her words were completely sincere, no mocking edge or sarcastic tone. Dean still wasn't used to hearing Alice so earnest.

"You wanna tell me a little about it?" she asked.

"About what?"

"Your life these days."

"You're just trying to change the subject."

"You got me. Come on though, Dean, all parents ever want to do is talk about their kids. Tell me something about Mary."

"You're kidding me, right? Please don't use my kid that way. She's a whole person, not a convenient topic for you to bring up when you don't want to tell me what your deal is."

"I know that. What makes you think that's the only reason I bring her up?"

"What, are you trying to tell me you're actually interested in knowing anything about her?" Dean scoffed, complete disbelief written in his expression.

"Wow, is that... is that really so hard for you to swallow?"

"Yeah!"

"Kill me for being curious, why don't you. Never mind," Alice said with a slight scowl. She quickly righted her features and poked her remaining eggs, desperate for any excuse to look away from Dean.

"I mean-"

"It's fine, Dean, forget it."

"If you-"

"I said it's fine!"

Awkward tense silence fell over the table. Dean wanted to take his reaction back, but it was too late. He never imagined Alice had an genuine interest in Mary, and now he couldn't help feeling a little bad about the turn the conversation had taken. He was about to speak up, about to apologize for his assumptions, but the soft flutter of wings tore the air apart. Castiel's sudden appearance made Dean jump back, startled Alice into knocking her drink over. They both cursed and Dean turned on Castiel angrily.

"What did we talk about, Cas, you can't just-"

Mary stepped out from behind Castiel, stopping Dean cold.

"Daddy!" she shrieked. She threw herself into the booth with him, wrapping her little body around him.

"Mary!"

The shock of seeing his daughter left Dean speechless. He held her close and gaped at Castiel, silently demanding answers.

"The shapeshifter switched cars," Cas informed him. "I was finally able to locate her. I took the liberty of having Mary break the warding you put on the car. I didn't think you would take issue, after all that has transpired."

"Daddy, it was so scary!" Mary piped up, pulling just far enough away from her father to meet his eyes while she talked as fast as she could. "The monster took me, and he said I was never going to see you or Auntie Ally ever again, and I tried to get away, and I shot it a lot but that didn't work, and I jumped out of the car just like you told me, and I tried to run away, and the monster followed me and caught me and threw me in the trunk, and I tried to stab it but that didn't work either, and I tried to..."

Mary ran out of breath and took a break, panting as she geared up to start again. Dean hugged her tight again, burying his face in her hair as reality set in. He had her back. His baby was safe.

"I'm so sorry, Mary!" he told her, words quiet but fervent. "We were looking for you the whole time, honey! We were following you the whole time, trying to catch up, and we couldn't- Mary, I'm so so sorry. I should have been faster, I should never have let that thing take you!"

Alice watched the reunion silently, watched the way Dean was with the child. She clearly meant the world to him. Suddenly, Alice was filled with relief. A weight slid off her shoulders as she realized she'd truly done the best thing for their family by staying away. This kid didn't need her around. She would never be able to love it the way Dean did. All she would have done was get in the way, complicate things.

Mary peeked out from between Dean's arms, locking eyes with Alice for the first time. As the two shifters recognized each other, unstoppable instinct caused both of their eyes to flash pale silver. Alice shuddered under the intensity of the child's scrutiny, shaking her head a little as she forced her retinas back to normal. All it took was an effortless blink for Mary to hide the flare. She pushed her way up past her father's smothering embrace, craning her neck as she looked Alice over.

"Uh... hi there," Alice said, waving a little. She crossed her arms over her chest, struck through with sudden terror, overwhelming anxiety as she found herself face to face with the baby she'd cut out of herself once upon a time. When she left it for dead, she never imagined that she might one day have to answer for her actions. At the time, she'd only been thinking of her mission, of how strategically inconvenient it was that the baby her host carried prevented them from changing shapes.

I didn't mean anything by it. I just had a job to get done.

Still, Alice barely believed herself. She remembered a moment of hesitation after the self-surgery, remembered a second spent staring at the tiny life she was leaving on the floor in a puddle of slime and blood. She'd had a thought of remorse then, a flicker of long-buried conscience that made her flag down a nurse on her way out of the hospital, made her point them to the supply closet where she'd left her unwanted spawn.

Alice had spent Mary's entire life telling herself she had no relation to the child. That physically, the baby was Dean's and Danny's. She was just a hitchhiker, a loose spirit hijacking the shifter's body. She told herself over and over that she was just a guest in the equation. Now, she found that comforting narrative harder to believe than ever. Despite the intangible nature of their relationship, Alice couldn't help but notice the striking similarities between her and Mary. She was looking at Dean's eyes set in a tiny face that could have been hers at that age.

"Are you the real Alice?" Mary asked, head cocked to the side curiously.

"Yeah. And you're the real Mary?"

"Mm-hmm."

Mary buried her head in Dean's jacket again, filling Alice with relief as she was freed from the intense spotlight of the child's attention. Mary spoke, words muffled against Dean's chest as he stroked her hair and clutched her like he expected someone to come and try to pry her from his arms.

"Daddy, are we going home now?"

Dean opened his mouth to say yes, but was stopped by a dread realization that punched the bottom out of his stomach. The shifter knew where they lived. If it came for Mary again, they would be sitting ducks.

Alice had the same thought, but unlike Dean, she didn't know how to talk around a child.

"Dean, you can't take her home yet," Alice said. Dean made a slicing motion at his throat urgently, shaking his head in an attempt to get her to shut up.

"What?" Mary asked, sitting up straight, alarmed by Alice's words.

"I mean..."

Alice trailed off, confused. Dean's hands flew quickly behind Mary's back, and it took Alice a minute to realize he was signing at her.

Not in front of Mary.

Alice sat agog, unable to believe her eyes. Since when did Dean know ASL? It only took her a moment to remember the staggering length of time that had passed since they last saw each other. And if Dean had been living with Allison the whole time...

"Not yet, honey," Dean said quickly, racing to run damage control after Alice's blunder. "First... I told Uncle Bobby we would swing by his place as soon as we found you. He's been real worried, you know? He wants to see you."

"Oh. Ok. Daddy, where's Auntie Ally? Is she coming to Uncle Bobby's too?"

Dean froze. This was a conversation he'd been dreading all week. Despite trying to prepare for it, he still didn't know what he was going to say. Across the booth, Alice bit her lip. She didn't envy Dean's responsibility.

She spotted Sam coming back, and got up to meet him.

"I'll give you two some privacy," she told Dean, leaving him alone to explain to his daughter that Auntie Ally wouldn't be going with them to Uncle Bobby's. Or anywhere else, not ever again.

Alice intercepted Sam just outside the restaurant.

"Give it a minute before you go in there," she said, gratefully accepting a gas station bag from him. "Your brother's pet angel just showed up with your little niece in tow."

"Mary's in there?!"

"Like I said, give it a minute. Dean's having a tough conversation with her," Alice said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the fumes. Her eyes slid shut and she leaned against the wall of the restaurant, basking in the burning glow that spread out through her body, soothing nerves that had been fraying for the past three weeks.

"About Allison," Sam realized. He joined Alice against the wall to wait. "She's gonna be devastated. Allison was like a mother to her."

His words bothered Alice a little, but not because she envied Allison's role in Mary's life.

"Sam, you never told me Dean learned ASL," she said, trying to sound casual. She rooted through the bag and tore open a patch, rolling up her sleeve to slap it onto her arm.

"I mean... you never asked," Sam shrugged.

"Allison teach him?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Huh. She, uh... she teach him anything else?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything else that might jump up and surprise me."

With a frown, Sam finally caught on.

"Alice, are you trying to ask me if Dean and Allison..." he trailed off, saying the rest with his eyebrows.

"No! Of course not! That wouldn't be any of my business."

Alice choked on smoke and had a little coughing fit while Sam regarded her with a hint of amusement.

"It's just... you know, seven years is a long time to live with someone," Alice finally managed, clearing her throat and examining her cigarette closely as she avoided Sam's eyes. "Close quarters, raising a kid together..."

Alice's resolve broke. Subtlety was never her strong suit and she couldn't stand the feelings of suspicion and betrayal that were creeping under her skin as she considered the facts of the matter for the first time. Granted, she had no right to feel betrayed. Still, her sister and her ex...

"Did they?" she demanded, finally meeting Sam's eyes so she could search them for any trace of deception.

"Not that I know of," Sam shrugged. "Knowing them? I kind of doubt it. Half the time they couldn't stand each other, and the other half they were busy with Mary."

"Uh-huh."

Hearing that Dean couldn't stand Allison did little to comfort Alice. She remembered the fights they used to have, remembered that Dean was a sucker for conflict. He'd deny it all day, but tension excited him. Alice knew him well enough to know that it was a big part of the reason they used to be so good together. 'Good' being a relative term, of course.

Passion without stability wasn't a stellar recipe for success.

Alice couldn't help wondering if her sister had been able to give Dean everything he wanted? Enough stability to keep him grounded, enough conflict to keep him from getting bored.

So what if she did? I wasn't there. It was never my business.

Reason didn't help. Jealousy spread like poison through Alice and she was powerless to stop it. She didn't want to think ill of her sister, didn't want to dishonor her memory, but Alice harbored a devil-may-care darkness that even after years of practice, she couldn't completely contain. It reared its ugly head now, whispering conspiracy and feeding her natural, deep-seated paranoia. Alice beat it back down. She crushed her cigarette out on the sidewalk with her heel and popped a square of gum into her mouth. She chewed it, almost angrily as she fought her dark impulses, struggled to maintain her discipline.

Forget it. It doesn't matter. Just let it go.

Alice itched with the urge to pursue the suspicion. She wanted to go straight to the source, ask Dean, find out...

No. She vowed silently to leave it alone. She refused to let her grief for her older sister be undercut by something so petty.

"You know this hunt isn't over," she announced, as much to distract herself from her own demons as to let Sam know the facts of the matter. "The alpha isn't going to stop coming after Mary. Not 'til he's dead."

"Yeah. I know. But... Now that Mary's safe, I have to go, Alice."

"Excuse me?"

"I was in the middle of a hunt when Dean called," Sam explained. "Chasing something big, Alice. You, Dean and Cas are more than enough to handle this shifter, right?"

"Depends. How good of a hunter is this Cas fellow?"

"Hard to say. He's got a lot of juice, though. I've just never seen him in the field. Dean hasn't been out on a hunt in... it has to have been like, five years by now."

"This isn't going to be an easy hunt," Alice said grimly. "I gotta say, we could really use you, Sam. Especially if Dean's rusty."

"I know, Alice, but... I can't let this trail go cold," Sam said.

"What are you chasing that's so dangerous?" Alice asked.

"It's not that it's dangerous, it's just... ok, have you ever heard of the Keys of Apep?"

"No, but... Apep... tell me why that name rings a bell?"

"Apep is an ancient demon. The egyptians used to regard him as being a demigod. You might know him by another name... well, it's really more of a mistranslation. Apophis?"

"Right. An incarnation of chaos, right? He's real?"

"Hard to say. If he is, he's been exorcised for thousands of years."

"So these keys you're trying to find?"

Sam's eyes lit up with excitement, with a vigor that made Alice want to know more about the case.

"Legend has it, he forged a set of keys meant to be able to open up doorways to hell."

"Ugh," Alice shuddered. "Nasty. So what, you want to find them, destroy them before we have another rash of devil's gates on our hands?"

"Not quite. See, there's another side to the myth. According to some sources, the keys also have the power to close all the gates of hell. Forever."

Author's note:  Just tuning in?  Lacking backstory? This is the third part of a series. If the whole series is a little too long for light reading, here are a few chapters that will provide  key context with minimum reading required :)

Three Knives - Chapter 11: Her Mark | Chapter 12: Lost Soul, Linger | Chapter 30: The End

Three Deaths  - Chapter 10: Trickster's Touch | Chapter 20: The Cowards Are Onto Something | Chapter 26: Her Body, Her Choice

Chapter Text

"Leave?!" Dean demanded. "What the hell do you mean, you have to leave?"

Mary peered out at them from the backseat of the impala. Dean caught her looking and grabbed Sam's arm, steering him farther away from the car.

"Dean, I was on a case when you called! I have to-"

"Sam, I don't care if you were hunting the devil himself!" Dean hissed, struggling to keep his voice down and his stance casual for Mary's sake. "Cas already took off, now you're telling me you're too busy to help me keep Mary safe?"

"She's safe, Dean! You, Bobby, Alice-"

"We need help killing this Alpha, Sam! Mary's not gonna be safe 'til the damn thing's dead! You get that, right?!"

"You guys can handle it!"

"This isn't about what we can handle and you know it! This is family, man! You don't just walk away from something like this!"

"I know, Dean!" Sam yelled, losing patience with his brother. "You think I'm walking away lightly?! I'm onto something BIG, Dean! I can't afford to lose the trail now!"

"Bigger than family?!"

"Yeah, Dean, bigger than family! Because what I'm chasing- if my info is good, this could be damn near that last case I ever work! The last case any demon hunter ever works! If I get it right this time, Mary might grow up in a world totally free of demons! Can you even imagine that, Dean?! Isn't that what this is all about?! You want to keep Mary safe? So you kill this one shifter, then what?! Then the next thing comes out of the shadows, and the next, and the next! There's always another monster, Dean! What I'm doing? I'm trying to put an end to it all, once and for all, damn it!"

"And what, this big break of yours is gonna vanish if you take a week off?!"

"It might, Dean! I'm not the only one chasing this key and I can't afford to let someone else find it first!"

"I can't even believe what I'm hearing from you right now," Dean scoffed.

Sam put his hands up. He knew there was no way he could make Dean see this from his point of view. His brother was too stubborn, too rooted in his ways to ever change.

"I'm gonna go say good-bye to Mary," he said. Dean blocked his way, hands on his hips.

"Don't do this, man!" Dean said, almost begging. "I mean, it's one thing for Cas to back out of this hunt... I get him having more important things to do. Mary's your blood, Sam! And me... you can't leave me working this case alone with Alice!"

"Alice is a good hunter."

"Alice is a freaking sociopath," Dean protested. "Hell, she's just as likely to get me and Mary killed as she is to save us from this thing."

"Dean-"

"I mean it, Sam. Don't walk away from us."

Sam shook his head and pushed past Dean to say his good-byes to Mary, still waiting in the impala. Dean watched him go, simmering in rage and disbelief.

"Sociopath, huh?"

Alice startled Dean, stalking up behind him with her arms crossed over her chest and a cigarette tucked between her lips. Dean wrinkled his nose and took a step back. Alice took the hint and blew the smoke downwind of him.

"Well, you know what they say," Dean said defensively, "Eavedroppers never hear anything good about themselves."

"Eavesdropper? Dean, you were shouting," Alice rolled her eyes. "Forget it. I just want to know what your plan is."

"I don't have one yet, past getting Mary to Bobby's," Dean admitted.

"You know, if you're really that uncomfortable about working with me, if you really think I'm gonna get your or your kid hurt, we can always split up," Alice suggested. "Divide and conquer. I go after the shifter, you stick with Mary, make sure nothing-"

"No," Dean said resolutely. "Don't get me wrong, keeping Mary safe is my top priority, but... that's not the only reason I want this thing dead."

"You want revenge."

Dean nodded.

"For my sister?"

Another nod.

"Were you two... close?"

"Of course."

"Uh-huh. "

Dean frowned as he realized the double-meaning in Alice's question, but she forged ahead before he could say anything about it.

"Finding it won't be a problem. I've got a... let's call him a colleague, tailing the Alpha. The real challenge is going to be getting that gun from the Smiths. You're gonna need-"

"Whoa, back up a little," Dean frowned. "Who's this colleague of yours?"

"Uh... You're not gonna like it," Alice said with a sigh.

"Well that makes it par for the course. Lay it on me."

"He's a spirit. One of many this Alpha's killed over the years."

"You mean a ghost? You're recruiting ghosts now?"

"One of the few perks of my condition," Alice shrugged. "I've got a line into the spirit world. I wouldn't call this kid a ghost though, so much as... I guess he's closer to a death omen at this point. His spirit is pretty weak. Not good for much besides playing the role of a supernatural gps locator."

"Kid?"

Dean remembered the ghost of the boy who had appeared to him at the garage.

She says... she says... she says...

"You're the one who had him tell me not to trust the shifter," Dean realized.

"He did that? I'll be damned. I tried to tell him to warn anyone the shifter targeted, but to be honest with you, I'm shocked he actually did it. Kid's been dead for years, hanging out in the veil losing more marbles by the minute. He manifested to you?"

"Yeah. Barely, but yeah."

"Wow."

Dean was surprised that Alice would have the decency to even think of asking a spirit to warn anyone of danger. The Alice he remembered was brutal, effective, not exactly one to belly ache about the collateral damages of a hunt. Dean bit back the urge to say as much, determined to hold true to his promise not to hold the past against her.

"So what, the kid keeps you updated on the shifter's whereabouts?"

"Something like that."

"Specifics?"

"Not important. Except that I'm gonna need a bottle of chloroform at some point."

"You're just into all kinds of new stuff, huh?" Dean chuckled.

"It's not a pasttime. To communicate with other spirits trapped in the veil, I need to slip my meat suit for a minute. The chloroform keeps Sandy from high-tailing it while I'm out."

"Sandy. The shifter you're jacking?"

"Yeah."

Dean watched Mary hugging Sam tight, pursed his lips as he saw distress cross her little face while Sam tried to explain to her why he was leaving. Alice watched Dean watching Mary, watched him cross his arms tight over his chest and fix Sam with a begrudging glare.

"Don't be too hard on Sam," Alice spoke up. "He's doing the best he can."

Dean only scoffed in response. Of course Alice would empathize with Sam and the mission he was so sure of.

Dean didn't need to say anything for Alice to know exactly what he was thinking. It amazed her how well she still knew him after all this time.

"He's nothing like me, Dean. He's protecting Mary too, in his own way."

"Whatever you say. So, the Smiths. You got a plan for getting the colt away from them? If they even have it."

"Something like a plan."

"Better be a hell of a plan. Breaking into their fortress, making off with something that valuable? That's gonna be a hell of a heist."

"Whoa now, who said anything about a heist?" Alice said, holding her hands up.

"Ok, well what's your idea?"

"Just ask them if you can have it."

"Excuse me?"

"Why not? They got anything against you?"

"Alice, they're not just gonna hand over Samuel Colt's gun and let me walk out with it," Dean chided.

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Alice!"

"Seriously, Dean! The Smiths have no shortage of their own weapons. They might not even know what they have. And we both know there's no way you or anyone else gets in and out of that compound with anything."

"Says the shapeshifter!"

"There's no way in hell I'll be able to get in there," Alice shook her head. "Not after last time. They'd be ready for me."

Dean, missing pieces of the story, assumed Alice was talking about the botched first meeting she'd had with her family.

"I don't know, Alice."

"Come on, Dean. What's the worst that could happen? They tell you no? That just puts us back at square one, ok?"

"Yeah, square one where we have no idea what can put a scratch on this bastard?"

"Square one where I have a list of creative ways to take the thing out of commission," Alice retorted.

"Really? What are those?"

"Works in progress, mostly. Shots in the dark, anyway. We need to try to get the colt before we resort to creativity, Dean. I probably don't need to remind you that we've got a time crunch on our hands here."

"Right."

Every minute the Alpha was on the loose was a minute Mary was in danger.

"Fine. After we leave Mary with Bobby, I'll shoot down to Arkansas and talk to the Smiths. Damn creeps."

"We? Excuse you, I'm not coming to Bobby's with you."

"Well what are you gonna do then?"

"I'm a hunter with no gear, no money, nada. I gotta get my shit together before I jump back into the fray. Take care of your daughter, see what the Smiths have to say about the colt, and we'll meet up after."

"You're still efficient," Dean noted with a nod of approval.

"Old habits die hard," Alice shrugged.

She walked away as Sam came back, downcast.

"Hard to disappoint her, huh?" Dean asked, hands on his hips as he scowled at Sam with harsh disapproval.

"Yeah."

Despite himself, Dean softened a little as he realized how devastated Sam was.

"Just... get your ass back here as soon as you're done chasing this fairy tale," Dean said, struggling to sound derisive. Truth be told, he missed Sam as much as Mary did. Deep down, he understood why Sam thought he needed to go. It didn't change the fact that Dean wished he would stay.

"Of course."

Something was bothering Sam. He couldn't leave without asking...

"Dean, you said Cas bailed," he frowned. "Did he say why?"

The question caught Dean off guard.

"Oh... no, I mean... you know Cas. He just said something vague and uppity about how I 'interrupted something' with this whole shifter mess. Leave it to Cas to make you feel like your daughter getting abducted is a step on his toes."

"Huh. And Alice?"

"We're meeting back up down the line."

"Uh-huh."

Sam's eyes sparkled and he fought to contain a smirk. Dean didn't miss the mischievous flash.

"Why the face?" he demanded.

"Nothing."

"No, seriously, what's funny?"

"Seriously, nothing."

"You're gonna make me beat it out of you? Don't leave me out of a joke, man."

"It's not a joke, it's just... you and Alice."

"What's funny about me and Alice?"

"Dude. You're just... you're both such pieces of work," Sam said, shaking his head.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just... don't start anything you can't finish, I guess."

"Meaning? You don't stop talking riddles I'm gonna deck you, Sammy."

"Stay professional, Dean," Sam sighed, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"I'm always professional."

"Sure."

Sam pulled Dean into a hug that he returned reluctantly.

"Seriously, when am I not professional?" Dean demanded when they broke apart.

"Take care, man," Sam said, walking away.

"I'm professional!" Dean called after him. Sam got in his car and drove away, leaving Dean muttering to himself. "Ooh, 'stay professional', as if I ever... what a bitch. I'm totally professional."

Castiel met up with Meg in Boca Raton. She stood under the shade of a palm tree, sunhat and dark shades accenting her outfit as she surveyed the pristine beach that bustled with tourists and locals. Castiel was painfully out of place in his suit and overcoat.

"Took you long enough," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You done with your pets, Clarence?"

"What have you found?"

"Right down to business. Are you ever gonna take me out for that drink, or-"

"Meg. My week has been extremely long," Castiel informed her. His weariness was apparent in his voice. "I spent it in the company of a stubborn man who seems unable to grasp the concept that my powers are neither unlimited nor inexhaustible. I teleported more times this past week than in the entire century preceding it. My wings are sore. My nerves are, as they say 'worked'. I am physically incapable of handling another ounce of sarcasm. Please, just tell me if you found anything."

"Well my week wasn't exactly a cruise vacation either," Meg sighed. Still, she took pity on him. "Over there. See the guy with the shorts that he should be arrested for?"

"I see him. I don't understand, what is criminal about his swimwear?"

"It's ugly, Clarence. It's a crime against fashion. Anyway, that's your guy."

Castiel squinted at the short man sipping a margarita as he lounged on a beach towel. He searched for any trace of angelic grace or presence, but found none.

"Are you sure?"

"I've been tailing him three days. Yeah, I'm sure."

"How?"

"Every time I turn around, this guy's making stuff pop into existence out of thin air," Meg explained. "Fun stuff, too. I gotta say, he really knows how to party."

"Angels are not the only beings capable of manifesting reality," Castiel pointed out.

"Look, I tracked him all the way from the apartment in Brussels," Meg said. "This is your guy. So either make your move, or-"

She stopped short as she realized Castiel was already gone. She glanced back at their mark in time to see Castiel hauling the man to his feet. They disappeared, leaving Meg shaking her head.

"This partnership is one or two partners short of a ship," she lamented.

Dean didn't realize the car ride to Bobby's was going to be such a production until it was already under way. Mary was agitated the whole way, bombarding him with questions all day until she finally passed out.

"Daddy, why wouldn't uncle Sammy stay with us? What does he have to do that's so important anyway, huh? When's he coming back? Couldn't we have gone with him? Why don't we ever get to see him anymore?"

The questions about Sam alone were enough to make Dean's head spin. He didn't have good answers for her, but his deflection and obfuscation did little to slow her down.

"Daddy, what's a shapeshifter? I'm a shapeshifter, right? The thing that took me told me I was, is it true? Is that what that thing was too? Is that why it didn't hurt it when I shot it and stabbed it and tried to strangle it with my shoelaces? Are there more monsters like the one that took me? What if they come and try to take me too, Daddy?"

"Mary, you don't ever have to worry about monsters," Dean assured her firmly. "I'll always protect you, got it? I'll never let anything take you ever again."

Mary seemed satisfied with that answer and barreled ahead into territory that made Dean wish he would have taken a longer time to reassure her.

"Daddy, why isn't Alice dead like you said she was?"

"Well... that's... that's complicated, honey," Dean said carefully. "See, when I said Alice was dead, what I meant was... well, see, she did die. A few times, actually, come to think of it. But the thing about Alice is, she doesn't really stay dead like she's supposed to. She always finds a way to come back. So, see, when I told you she was dead, I thought it was true. It just turned out that wasn't the case."

"Oh, that's so good!"

Mary clapped, her enthusiasm puzzling Dean for a moment until she spoke again.

"Does that mean Auntie Ally's going to find a way to come back too?"

Dean wanted to shoot himself.

"I... I... well..."

He took his eyes off the road long enough to see Mary watching him expectantly with wide, hopeful eyes.

"It's hard to say right now, honey," he finally managed. "Maybe."

He cursed himself for not having the heart to tell her the truth. He could almost hear Allison's voice in his head, berating him for lying.

You moron, she's just gonna be all the more let down when I never make an appearance. You dolt! I oughtta come back for a few minutes just so I can thrash your dumb ass!

"Oh good! You should have told me that to start out with, Daddy. You're so silly sometimes."

"Yeah. Yeah, Daddy is awfully silly," Dean sighed, feeling a little sick at himself.

"Daddy, tell me more about Alice," Mary demanded.

This had to be the longest car ride Dean had ever been on.

"Uh... well, uh... what, um... what do you want to know?"

"I want to know everything!"

"Ok. Ok, well... see, I actually don't know that much about her," Dean managed. "It's been a really, really long time since we knew each other, and... you know, I don't think she's the same person she was all the way back then."

"Why not?"

"That's just how life works, baby. People change. Like how every time I turn around, you're getting bigger and bigger... adults can grow up too, sometimes. I, uh... I mean, it's hard to say 'cause I only talked to her for a few minutes, but... you know, it kind of felt like Alice grew up since the last time I saw her. And now I'm not sure I still know who she is."

"Oh."

Mary looked confused, but she shook it off and kept going.

"Is she going to come live with us now? Is she going to be my Mommy? That would be so neat, Daddy! Then we could have a family like Madison Sanders!"

"Oh. Well, uh... you know..."

Dean thought his answer through very carefully, determined not to make another mistake that would get Mary's hopes up only to have them crushed later.

"Mary, I don't think Alice is interested in sticking around very long," Dean said.

"Oh. Why? Is it like Castiel told me? Does Alice think I'm gross?" Mary pouted.

"That's not it. God, how do I explain this? Look, Mary, you know how Uncle Sammy's always on the road, always working?"

Mary nodded.

"Alice is in the same line of work as Uncle Sammy. You know, it's not that they don't want to be around you. It's... you know what, I'm gonna level with you, ok? I was hoping you would never know about this, but the world is full of monsters. You already know that, I can't take that back. Alice and Uncle Sammy? Their job is to kill the monsters. So that little girls like you can be safe."

"Why didn't you want me to know about monsters, Daddy?" Mary frowned.

"I didn't want you to be scared."

"Oh. Ok."

"Back before you were born, I used to have the same job as Alice and Uncle Sammy. I used to kill monsters too. That's why you never need to worry, Mary. You never need to be scared because no matter what, I'll always be here and I'll always keep you safe. That's a promise. Ok?"

"Ok, Daddy."

Mary chewed her lip, slouched deep in her seat and crossed her arms tight over her chest. She stayed that way for a long time before she finally spoke up.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Did Auntie Ally have that job too? Killing monsters?"

"She used to, yeah."

"But the monster got her anyway."

Dean missed Allison with an intensity he'd never imagined possible. She was so much better at this kind of thing than he was. At comforting Mary, explaining the world to her. Allison could do it in simple terms without contradicting herself or raising more questions with every answer. Dean wished desperately that Allison were here now to explain all this to Mary so he didn't have to.

"If the monster got Auntie Ally, doesn't that mean it could get you too Daddy?"

Mary's words were so familiar that they almost threw Dean back in time. He remembered being twelve, remembered Sammy at eight years old asking him almost the same question.

If the monsters got Mom, that means they can get Dad. If they can get Dad, that means they can get us, Dean.

"Never, honey," Dean said. "Nothing's ever gonna get your 'ol Dad."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How can you know for sure?"

"Because... because..."

Dean wanted to tell her he was too good, wanted to let her think he was invincible, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. At her age, he'd believed his father was invincible. He knew from personal experience that it only made the pain that much worse when you finally learned that your father wasn't invincible after all. He couldn't let Mary go through that pain.

Instead, Dean found himself saying something that surprised even him a little.

"Baby, Daddy's got angels watching over him."

Dean could still hear his mother's voice in his head, her words overlaying his as he spoke. For the longest time, he'd despised the phrase. His mother's final words mocked him, a cruel joke. Dean knew there was no one watching out for him or his family, no help from on high. Just chaos and evil that he was left to fend off alone.

Suddenly, Dean understood why his mother used to tell him that. He would never know for sure, but maybe she didn't really believe those words either. Not literally, at least. Maybe she, like Dean, was just trying to comfort her child. Dean almost choked up, overwhelmed with a sense of timeless comradery with the mother he'd hardly known. Parenthood made equals of anyone lucky enough to experience it. A woman Dean spent his life helplessly idolizing now became strikingly human. Unbearably real.

Dean almost laughed realizing that he was his mother.

"I've got Cassie, remember?" he went on, hiding his revelations from his daughter. Half of parenthood was hiding your hardships from your kids. The other half was guiding them through their own hardships. "He'll never let anything happen to me. And I'll never let anything happen to you."

Dean glanced over and saw that Mary looked less troubled. Being able to comfort her brought him immense satisfaction. Maybe he could manage without Allison after all. Somehow, someway... well, it wasn't like he had much of a choice now anyway.

"Ok Daddy."

Mary's little smile was Dean's world.

Castiel cast his shadow long over the man on the beach towel. The man glanced up, pushing enormous sunglasses just far enough down his nose to fix Castiel with a look of consternation.

"Hey, buddy, you mind moving it along? I'm working on a natural tan here."

Castiel examined the man very, very, very closely.

"Buddy?"

Something caught Castiel's eye. It was very well hidden, but just for a second, he thought he saw a tiny, faint gleam that could have been grace. Castiel hauled the man to his feet, ignoring his protests and teleporting them off the public beach.

"I know what you are," he informed the man as he struggled to keep from spilling his margarita. Castiel shook him and he cried out in dismay as his drink sloshed to the ground. "Why are you hiding your presence? Answer me!"

"Hey! Buddy! I don't know what you're talking-"

"You're an angel! I saw your grace! Tell me why you are disguising your presence! Where are all the others? Why does no one answer my calls? Why did you not answer my calls? Answer me!"

"Oh for crying out loud," the man sighed. He tapped Castiel's arm and the scene changed. Castiel found himself back on the beach, laid out on a towel next to the strange little man. He realized he had a margarita in his hand and quickly tossed it away.

"What, you prefer a different flavor?" the man asked. He snapped his fingers and Castiel found himself holding an electric blue concoction. He threw it in the same direction as the last while the man at his side sipped a red drink.

"Ahhh, strawberry. One of the great joys of life," he commented.

"Who are you?" Castiel demanded. "Explain yourself!"

"Oh, get off my ass," the man sighed. "Call me Loki. I'll answer your questions after you tell me how the hell you found me."

"With immense difficulty and after extensive searching," Castiel scowled. "Who are you really? And why are you wearing this... swine?"

"Don't knock Loki, he's a swell fellow once you get to know him," 'Loki' said seriously. "Look buddy, I'm on vacation. Whatever your problem is, you're gonna have to take it up with upper management."

He pointed at the sky and sipped his drink.

"Upper management, as you call them, have not responded to me in over seven years," Castiel snapped. "You're the first angel I've managed to find in all that time. I want to know why."

"Really? Everybody left? Damn. I figured only management would relocate," Loki said.

"Relocate?"

"So what, you're the odd man out?" Loki asked. He pushed his glasses down again to squint at Castiel, scrutinizing him in the bright sunlight. "I don't get it. Why would they leave you and take all the other rank-and-files?"

"What is this 'leaving' business I keep hearing about?" Castiel demanded. "Who is 'everybody'? Where did they go? Why?"

"Look, buddy, at your pay grade, I'm not sure how much you know," Loki sighed. "Heck, I'm not sure how much you can stand to know."

"I need answers. I'm not leaving without answers," Castiel said stubbornly.

Loki sucked his teeth and twirled a piece of licorice around in his drink. He sucked the candy while he considered his words carefully.

"Look, kid," he finally began. "It's pretty complicated. Lots of moving pieces."

"I have time."

"Yeah, well I have today slotted for relaxation and I'd like to get you out of my hair as fast as possible."

"So simplify."

"I mean, you already know the simple version. All the angels are gone."

"Where did they go and why?"

"Don't know exactly where they went, don't care. As for why... well... hm. Let's just say... I'll put it like this. This reality is broken. They moved on to greener pastures."

"Broken? In what way? It seems fine to me," Castiel frowned.

"I guess broken isn't a great word. It's more like... not breakable enough," Loki amended.

"Not breakable enough for what?"

"Look kid, what do you want from me? It's been thousands of years since I had anything directly to do with those uppity dicks. They had plans, their plans didn't work out, they fucked off to a reality where they could see those plans through to fruition. You want the nitty-gritty of all those plans? You want the whole score? Track them down and ask them. Get off my ass. I'm just trying to enjoy a tan and a margarita."

"But-"

"That's my piece. I'm out, buddy, ok? The world is full of beaches. Don't come looking for me."

"Wait-"

Loki vanished, taking his drink and his bath towels with him. Castiel was left ass down in the sand, staring blankly at the indentation left behind by the only other angel left in the world. In all of this reality, if what he'd said was true.

"You don't look happy, Clarence."

Meg settled down in the sand beside Castiel, adjusting her sunhat.

"And your friend took off awfully fast. What, he wasn't into the family reunion?"

"No."

Castiel gazed out at the waves, visibly troubled. His brow knit tight and his mouth was fixed in a deep frown. It was more emotion that Meg had ever seen him display.

"You must not have gotten the answers you wanted."

"I got... more questions."

Meg drew one knee up to her chest and rested her chin there. She took her sunglasses off and watched Castiel, waiting.

"All these years, waiting, praying, hoping to be heard by another of my kind... this past year with you, scouring the earth... to finally find the last one left on this plane of existence like me, to have them brush me off so easily..."

"I know, Clarence," Meg sighed sympathetically.

Castiel rounded on her, hard blue eyes sharp as razors, piercing her cold black void of a soul with their judgement. Goosebumps pricked up and down Meg's arms. They weren't the unpleasant kind.

"How could you possibly understand what I'm going through?" he demanded.

"You're not the only soldier whose army abandoned them," Meg informed him. "I had a cause too, remember? I watched my superiors kill each other, watched the thing we were fighting for slip away one betrayal at a time. Maybe I'm not the last of my kind left in the world, but I'm damn near as lonely. I'm damn near the last demon in the world who gives a crap about the old mission. I know you look down on me, I know you want to hate me, but fact is... I'm probably one of the only people in the world who can get what you're going through."

She didn't expect her words to get through to him, so she was shocked when his frosty glare warmed a little, when his expression softened ever so slightly. Maybe she was seeing things. He looked away, turning his gaze back to the ocean. They sat in silence for a long time, long enough for the sun to sink low in the sky, glowing orange as it prepared to descend completely to hide its face until morning.

"Meg?"

"Yeah Clarence?"

"If you want, I'll... I'll have a drink with you now."

Meg hid a small smile. She hid it because she knew Castiel's surrender was born of desolation and disappointment. It stung her a little that he would only deign to take her company in utter defeat and isolation, but she would take the win.

"Come on. Let's forget everything for a little while, huh?"

Meg stood, shaking off sand and offering Castiel her hand. He considered it somberly for a long moment, then took it.

Chapter Text

Dean spent one night at Bobby's to recover from the long drive. He set out early the next morning, full of aches and a grogginess that no amount of caffeine could disperse.

"Saddle sore?" Bobby asked while he watched Dean waiting listlessly for the coffee pot to fill up.

"Man," Dean sighed heavily. "It's really something, Bobby. Not that long ago, a four hour drive was nothing for me. Now my ass hurts from sitting so damn long."

"You got used to domestic bliss," Bobby chuckled. "You can't expect to jump right back into the frying pan like those years never happened."

"Jump back? Bobby, the frying pan came out of nowhere and whacked my brains out," Dean rolled his eyes.

"It'll do that. So what, you're leaving without saying good-bye to Mary?"

"I talked to her about it last night. I told her I'd be gone when she woke up and back in a few days."

"Well, that's healthy."

Bobby's sarcastic tone didn't escape Dean's notice.

"It's not like I have a choice. If I don't kill this thing, it's gonna keep coming for her," he said defensively.

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

"No, but you're thinking it. I can hear you thinking it. I can hear you judging me. Stop. I'm doing what I need to do, ok?"

"Whatever you say."

Bobby's tone was still closer to passive aggressive than placating. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, features drawn into a terse frown under the brim of his ball cap. Dean frowned back at him as he poured coffee into a thermos.

"It's just a few days. I'm coming back for her."

"Yeah, unless you don't."

"I will."

"Look son, I'm not angling for a fight here," Bobby said, starting another pot of coffee behind the one Dean had just abducted. "I just want you to remember what you've got waiting for you back here. You hear me?"

"How could I forget?"

"Gee, how could a Winchester ever get so wrapped up chasing revenge that they lose sight of what's really important?" Bobby mused sarcastically, stroking his beard in mock thought as his eyes searched the room for the obvious answer to his rhetoric.

"I'm not my father," Dean reminded him, eyes narrowing as he fought the urge to snap. He knew Bobby meant well, but it was still hard not to take offense at the implication that he would ever put something as petty as vengeance above his daughter's well-being.

"You sure about that, Dean?" Bobby pried. "Because I'm getting some strong parallel vibes here. Hell, do you have any idea how many times John dumped you and Sam here to crash while he ran off chasing the demon that killed your mom? Now I've got you leaving Mary here so you can go hunt down the thing that killed Allison... what, I'm supposed to ignore the writing on the wall?!"

"Me and Allison weren't-"

"Balls, son, I don't give a damn what you want to call that relationship!" Bobby snapped, losing his temper with Dean. "She's gone and you're hurting! Whether you miss her as a friend or a sister or something more isn't important! The facts of the matter are still the same! I'm just-"

Bobby took a breath, turned away for a minute to recompose himself.

"I'm just worried about Mary," he said, voice softening under the weight of his compassion for the child. "She lost Allison too, Dean. She doesn't need payback right now. She just needs her father."

Bobby's words struck a chord with Dean. A lump rose in his throat that he forced down.

"I know, Bobby. I know."

"But you're still going."

"I don't have a choice. I know what this looks like, Bobby... I know you feel like you're seeing the same old pattern here, me, my Dad... but I'm not out to kill this thing because of a grudge. I just want to keep Mary safe. I don't want her to grow up looking over her shoulder, wondering when the next monster is gonna come for her... I have to kill this thing once and for all."

Bobby subjected Dean to a long, intense examination while the clock laughed in his face with its incessant ticking. Finally, Bobby shook his head and turned away.

"Go do what you've gotta do, Dean," Bobby sighed. "Just make sure you come back to her in one piece. You're all she has left."

"I know. She's all I have too, you know."

The holy water made Alice as sick as ever. After weeks without it, she found herself unable to keep it down. Not long after she parted ways with Dean, she found herself doubled over in an alley, spewing black onto the brick wall. She retched and gagged, mourning the loss of such a nice breakfast.

"Round and round we go," she sighed, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she stumbled out of the alley. She walked the streets, likely looking worse for wear as she prowled for a car she could jack, compiling a mental list of supplies.

It took her the rest of the day and night, but she finally rounded up everything she wanted. She was a few weapons short, silver blades and bullets out of reach for the moment, but she had enough to get her by. She checked into a motel room and hauled her pilfered goods inside to sort them out. Weapons piled into a duffel, medical supplies into a backpack. She set aside a syringe and needle in the midst of her organizing. She needed to get everything done before she worried about her little ritual. If the incident in the alley was any indication, it would probably incapacitate her for the rest of the night.

Alice put it off as long as possible, but the needle beckoned. She kicked the duffel under the bed, set the backpack on the table and drew the curtains tighter. She checked the locks, heart racing as the usual paranoia settled over her. She hated making herself vulnerable, but she didn't feel like she had much of a choice. Especially with Allison gone. Her ritual felt like the only way she had to honor her older sister and the wishes she'd expressed so very long ago.

Alice blessed water and assembled the syringe. She filled the plunger and settled down on the bed, took a few deep breaths, steeling herself for the pain she knew was coming. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, tipping the needle skyward in tribute to her fallen sister.

"I'm still fighting the good fight, Allison," she muttered. "Just like you wanted."

Alice had no more excuses. No more reason to delay. She extended her left arm and slipped the needle into a familiar vein. She drew the plunger back, pulling a little blood that mixed with the water and turned it first bright red, then charcoal gray. She pushed the plunger back down, blessed water burning through her arm, intense enough to pull a groan of pain from Alice. The veins in her arm darkened, black spreading with the remedy as it ran its course through her system. Every inch it traveled lit her nerves up with searing agony that scorched her from the inside out. Alice tossed the needle away, clutching her arm as she sank down on the bed, paralyzed by the fire that crept through her body, arching as she screwed her eyes shut. She sank her teeth into a rag, muffling her own howls to avoid attracting attention.

Purity came at a steep price, but Alice was too afraid of the consequences to ever abandon the ritual. Whether it was helping her tainted soul or not was an open question.

All Alice could do was hope as she screamed.

The drive from Bobby's to the Smith's wiped Dean out, but he refused to give himself time to rest. Every roadside motel sign he saw called his name invitingly, but he flew past them all, resisting the urge to call it a night and seek out the colt in the morning. He reminded himself that Mary was waiting for him. Every minute he wasted was another minute she was alone. Bobby was great, but he was also right. His company was no replacement for Dean's presence.

Dean found the compound in the same place as it had been nearly eight years ago, the last time he'd found himself at the mercy of the Smiths. It seemed that every time he dealt with them, he was the one seeking help, grasping at straws in the dark. Once again, he came looking for something. The first time he'd been here felt like a lifetime ago. His search for Alice after their first separation... it had to be what, twelve years by now? Thirteen? Dean couldn't keep track.

The second time Dean found himself with the Smiths was after his resurrection. He couldn't help shuddering as he remembered waking up under a white sheet with Kaydie Smith watching like a prison guard. He'd wanted answers from the Smiths, but scorned the ones they gave him. Time had proven them right, but that didn't warm Dean to them. Between then and now, they'd been nothing but a thorn in his side, hounding his family for years while they waited for Alice to contact them. After five or six years, they retreated for the most part and Dean had assumed for a while that they'd given up. Until Mary started talking about a 'Cousin Mikey' hanging around outside her window with candy and toys, asking questions about a mother she knew nothing about.

Dean's blood boiled remembering the incident. Neither he nor Allison had ever managed to catch Cousin Mikey, but both knew it could only be Micheal Dixon-Smith, the Smiths apparent envoy of choice to the Winchesters.

Dean was filled with foreboding as he rolled up to the compound where the majority of the Smith family lived together. The wall surrounding the complex was as formidable as ever, fifteen feet high and stretching out at least a mile in both directions. He was struck, however, by a key change to the structure. Years ago, the main entrance was an imposing gate, twenty feet high and banded with silver, brass, bronze and sanctified iron. It was gone, replaced two sections of chain link fence that were half the height of the old gate. A guardhouse had been erected to the west of this new entrance, complete with a set of barrier arms. Dean drove up to them with a frown as a man stepped out of the guardhouse to meet him. He wore a grey and black uniform that evoked a real rent-a-cop feel.

'Blake. Richman Security', Dean read, mouthing the words as his suspicions were confirmed. The Smiths had outsourced security. Strange move for such a cloistered, self-sufficient bunch.

"Good evening," the guard greeted him. "How can I help you?"

"Evening," Dean replied. I'm looking for the Smith family. They still here?"

"Sure are. State your name and business for me, I'll see about phoning you in."

"Sure. Dean Winchester. I need to talk to Kaydie Smith."

"Ah. Winchester, huh? You know, I think you're actually on the shortlist. Gimme a minute."

The guard reentered his little outpost and flipped through a clipboard. He nodded to himself, hit a button and flashed Dean a thumbs up. The arms raised and the gate rolled open. Dean pulled forward, apprehension fluttering through him. He glanced back to see the guard talking on the phone.

The first thing that struck Dean was how empty the place seemed. The last two times he'd been here it had bustled with activity, Smiths coming and going all around in a crowd almost thick enough to make navigating the compound tricky. Now, all Dean saw were empty avenues cutting clear across the grounds to the back wall. He parked on the side of the deserted courtyard and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do next. He flipped his phone open and scrolled through his contacts, despite remembering with terrible specificity that he'd deleted Kaydie's number a long time ago.

Lacking a better option, Dean got out of his car and waited. The whole place was quiet, so much so that he could still hear the sounds of the freeway through the trees that hid the Smith's home from view of the travelers who came and went all day up and down I40.

After only a few minutes, Dean spotted a woman approaching. All black clothes, blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun, gun holstered at her waist. From a distance, Dean thought it was Kaydie, but as he walked forward to meet her, he realized this was someone new.

"Dean Winchester?" she called, closing the distance between them.

"The one and only. And you are?"

"Caroline Smith. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She extended her hand and he took it, accepting her firm shake while she flashed him a glossy smile that fully reached her green eyes, framed with dazzling, bold gold liner. She gave off a genuine, friendly, confident vibe. Dean wanted to like Caroline, but his past experience with Smiths tempered his desire, held it well in check.

"Ditto. Kaydie Smith around?"

"Not at the moment, but any business you have with Kaydie, I can take care of for you," Caroline assured him. "What brings you here?"

"Well-"

"You know what, I'm sorry," Caroline cut him off. "I feel rude, can I offer you some coffee? Or maybe tea? Please excuse my thoughtlessness, it's just... we don't get a lot of visitors these days."

"Uh... I'm good, thanks," Dean said. "You're fine. I, uh... well, let's just say this isn't exactly a social call. I'm looking for something."

"Ok. Something like...?"

"A gun. A revolver, more specifically. It'd be an antique, a little over a hundred years old. If my info's good, your family would have gotten their hands on it around... seven, eight years ago? Would have been in or around Minneapolis."

"Pretty specific," Caroline said with a raised eyebrow. "What is it, some kind of family heirloom you misplaced?"

"Something like that."

"Ok. Well, if we have it, it's a good bet it'll be in the armory. Can you pick it out of a lineup?"

"Definitely. It's distinctive."

"Ok. If you just wanna follow me, I can take you."

Caroline led Dean through the deserted streets and Dean took the opportunity to sate his curiosity.

"It's... It's so quiet here now," he said. "Last time I was here you couldn't kick a rock without hitting a Smith. Where is everybody?"

"Must have been a long time since you were here," Caroline scoffed. "It's, uh... it's been a rough few years, I guess."

"What happened?"

"Family drama, mostly. I don't know... you know Kaydie, did you know Greta?"

"I met her a few times."

"Well after she died, Kaydie was too obsessed with finding the thing that killed her to take her place leading the family like she was supposed to. There was an ugly power struggle. There still is, I guess, but... you know, it's not important."

"So what, you're the head honcho around here these days?" Dean asked skeptically. He had a hard time believing such a mild-mannered, diplomatic Smith would have emerged victorious from a coup.

"No! God, no. I'm just the welcome committee for today," Caroline explained. "No, Kaydie's still in charge around here. When she's here, that is."

Caroline bit her lip and held her tongue and Dean got the feeling that she'd said more than she was supposed to. He still had more questions, but he didn't have the heart to keep grilling the kid either.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean said as comfortingly as he could. "I mean, I wasn't exactly your family's the biggest fan, but still... that's rough."

"Yeah, well... we always were a little too complicated for our own good," Caroline said with a small, wry chuckle. She opened a door for Dean, waving him in ahead of her. Dean hesitated, eyeing the pitch black room suspiciously. Caroline caught his reluctance and nodded sharply.

"Right. Got it."

She stepped in ahead of him and hit the lights, beckoning him to follow her.

"I take it when you say you weren't a fan of my family, what you really mean is you trust Smiths as far as you can throw them," she commented as he joined her.

"Well, to be fair, they... whoa."

Dean trailed off, lost for words as he looked around the room. Walls line with swords and knives in every style he'd ever imagine, racks full of firearms, drawers and chests labeled 'explosive'...

Dean had seen hell. Now, he felt like he'd walked into heaven.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Caroline said, reading Dean's appreciation of the collection.

"I'll say."

"Half this stuff was forged here. We're not called Smiths for nothing."

She pointed to the east wall.

"I've got a few of my own pieces over there."

"You don't say."

"Personally? I'm more of a gun gal, but it's required training to master blades. Anyway, you said you're looking for an antique?"

"Yeah."

"Most of those are in the back."

She led him through a maze of shelves toward the back of the building. Dean had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the smorgasbord of deadly implements surrounding him. He thought he had a pretty nice little collection of gear, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to the stash the Smiths were sitting on.

"Just ahead," she told him, pointing to a collection of locked glass display cases. "I have to make a call, but, uh... take a gander, and if you see the one you're looking for, I'll open the case for you when I get back, ok?"

"Sure."

She left Dean to his own devices, and he took his time perusing the collection. Some of the pieces on display dated back to ancient Greece. Dean looked over an assortment of ritual daggers that made him think of Alice. It was too bad she was on the outs with her family. Dean couldn't help thinking that she would love this place, maybe even more than he did.

Dean tore himself away from the blade collection and wandered over to the cases containing the firearms. He bent down to examine them closely, heart sinking as he searched for Samuel Colt's gun. He squinted at a colt that could have been the one he was looking for. It looked like it belonged to the right time period. Dean even suspected it might be another of Samuel Colt's pieces, but it was missing the telltale latin inscription etched into the barrel of the colt Dean was looking for.

Dean moved through three display cases before he finally found what he was looking for, heart leaping as he set eyes on the gun he was looking for.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted it, smiling excitedly. He could hardly dare to believe it. Was he really going to leave here with the weapon he needed to kill the son of a bitch threatening his family?

"Ouch!"

Dean stiffened, wincing at a small, sharp pain in the back of his neck. His hand flew up, meeting something... fluffy?

Dean grasped it and pulled, bringing it around to examine while his vision blurred. A red dart. He spun around, and when he stopped, the world kept on spinning around him. He almost fell over, but grabbed the display case just in time to stay on his feet. Feet he realized he couldn't feel anymore.

"What the..."

Caroline stood behind him, loading another dart into the tranquilizer gun she held. She raised it again but hesitated, waiting to see if the first shot would be enough to drop Dean. Dean scowled and took a staggering step forward.

"You... damn... damn it."

He fell to the floor, pointing a weak, accusatory finger at Caroline.

"Damn... Smiths."

"Sorry," she sighed. "Orders. You know how it is."

Dean's last thought before he passed out was how very, incredibly much he hated the entire Smith family.

"Ugh."

Dean woke with a groan and a headache. The first thing he saw was the man seated in front of him. As his vision came into focus, he fixed the man with a glare.

"Heya, Worcestershire," Micheal Dixon-Smith greeted him with a goofy smile. Caroline stood, statuesque by the door of the bare, dimly lit room. After a moment, Dean realized he knew where they were. All the furniture had been removed and the windows were boarded up, but Dean recognized Greta Smith's living room.

"Well I'll be. Cousin Mikey. In the flesh," Dean scowled dryly. He didn't need to look down to know he was tied into the chair he sat in. He rolled his wrists in place, rope chafing against his skin.

"Been a while since we had a chat, I know."

"This is a chat?"

"Sure. For now, anyway. What do you say we keep it pleasant?"

"Wow, if this is your idea of a 'pleasant chat' I'd hate to-"

"Let's skip the foreplay, huh? I know Alice sent you here," Micheal interrupted him.

"I haven't seen Alice in a long time."

"Lie," Micheal said, pointing at Dean with an irked little grimace. "I don't know if Allison told you this about me, but you won't be able to get a lie past me. So make this easy on both of us and just tell me where she is."

"I have no idea where Alice is."

Micheal pursed his lips at Dean's statement. It was the truth, and whatever supernatural gifts lurked behind the incandescent, unnaturally bright green of his eyes must have informed him of that. Still, he was far from satisfied. He pulled a phone out of his pocket that Dean recognized.

"That's mine," he scowled.

"Let's run this back a little," Micheal said, presenting Dean with his phone's lock screen. "I know you've been in contact with her, one way or another. I mean, come on. The gun you came here looking for? You had to have known that was too damn specific. Alice is the only person on the planet who knows we have that gun. No one else could have told you where to find it. So... let's say you really don't know where she is. Fine. But I'd bet my life you've got her number in here. Dontcha, Dean-O?"

Dean held his poker face and refused to meet Micheal's eyes. Creepy eyes, they reminded him of Alice's before she lost her Trickster's Touch. Micheal sighed.

"Come on, Dean. You don't wanna put your neck on the chopping block for Alice. I know all about everything that went down between you two. I think we both know that if your places were reversed, she'd sell you out faster than you can say 'snitch'. So just make this easy for both of us. Put your code in here, give her a call. Set her up, we'll knock her down... it's the right thing to do."

Micheal scrutinized Dean closely, watching for any sign that his words were getting to him. Dean remained stoic.

"Even if you've put the wrong she did you behind you, don't forget that she's still dangerous. She's still-"

"Cut the crap, Mike," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. Micheal wasn't a skilled interrogator and it showed. The Smiths picked the wrong guy for this job. Dean was the farthest thing from intimidated. "This family drama you've got going on? It was old seven years ago. It's time to let it go."

"Family drama?" Micheal mused. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Winchester. You have no idea what Alice did to us."

"Yeah, well, I also have no doubt that whatever it was, you jerks deserved it."

Micheal stood so fast his chair toppled over behind him with a crash. By the door, Caroline flinched minutely.

"I mean, Alice is a dick," Dean went on, unfazed. "But let's be honest here, it definitely runs in the family."

"Just give me the code and make the call, Dean," Micheal said, eyes narrowed to slits and teeth gritted with barely restrained rage that only served to egg Dean on.

"No. This has nothing to do with me. It's your family business, not mine. So how about you untie me before I get pissed and make it my business? 'Cause trust me, you don't want me to make this feud my business. You're not gonna like where I come down on the matter and you're not gonna like what I do about it."

"You're gonna do something about it?" Micheal scoffed, eyeing Dean's restraints. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Ok. Excuse me if I'm not quaking in my boots," Micheal sneered, circling around to stand behind Dean. "I'm only gonna ask one more time, Winchester. Open the damn phone."

"No."

Dean felt the cold kiss of a knife's edge against the side of his neck. It was sudden enough to startle him into jumping a little and he winced as the razor sharp blade drew a fine line of blood.

"Don't make me get ugly with you, Winchester," Micheal hissed. "Make the call."

Dean laughed out loud at him, the sound bouncing off the walls, loud and unhinged.

"Boy, you really are an amateur," Dean chortled, one octave down from all-out giggling. "Hell couldn't break me in thirty years, Smith. You think you're gonna be able to? Go on, give it your best shot. This should be fun."

At the door, Caroline put her head in her hands and shook it slowly.

"Dixon, I think we need to get Kaydie back here," she said.

"No! I can handle this!"

"Like I said, hit me with your best shot," Dean said, settling back in his chair. Caroline had never seen anyone look so comfortable bound hand and foot.

"You're bluffing. You're not seriously gonna sit here and take a beating for Alice's sake."

"I'll tell you what I'm not gonna do; I'm not gonna be the guy that sells his friends out to save his own sorry ass. So bring it."

"And your principles are more important to you than your hide?"

"See for yourself."

Micheal came down to Dean's level to hold his gaze. Dean didn't look away, let Micheal see the unwavering truth in what he said next.

"You couldn't break me if you had a hundred years to try, Smith. So either get on with it, or untie me. End this now, and I won't slaughter all of you assholes on my way out. I'll just break a few of your fingers for wasting my time."

"Dixon, I'm about to start rooting for this guy," Caroline chuckled. "You gonna call Kaydie, or you want me to do it?"

"Caroline, shut up or leave!" Micheal stormed.

"Dixon-"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

"Come on now, Mikey, cut the good cop a break," Dean snarked. "Even for a bad cop, you're taking the routine a little far."

"Ok, smartass," Micheal sneered. "Mr. Doesn't Break Easy."

He sheathed his knife and turned Dean's phone back on. He stared at the screen for a minute, then smirked and presented it to Dean again.

"So you've been to hell and back. Good for you! What about her?"

Mary's face beamed at Dean from his lock screen, filling him with dread as he realized what Micheal was getting at. It must have shown in his face, because Micheal went on, emboldened.

"I'm guessing she's not as tough as her Daddy, huh?"

Dean fixed Micheal with a glare that could have shriveled new daisies.

"I'm gonna kill you just for saying that, you dumb, spineless sack of crap!" Dean growled.

"Promises, promises. Think you can get it done before I find sweet little Mary?"

Micheal held Dean's death glare, unfazed. Maybe he didn't take Dean's promise seriously, but Dean wasn't making idle threats. Micheal may not have realized it, but he'd signed his death warrant the minute he brought Mary into this.

"You don't have the stomach for it," Dean scowled. He was grasping at straws at this point. To his dismay, Micheal doubled down.

"Alice destroyed my family, Winchester. Believe me, I've got the stomach to do whatever it takes to see that hell spawn dead. So what's it gonna be? Are you gonna make a call? Or do I need to go looking for your little girl?"

Dean breathed his fury in and out a few times, cornered. He didn't have a choice anymore. There was no contest between his principles and his daughter. He couldn't risk letting her suffer for the sake of something as petty as his pride.

"Zero. One. Two. Four," Dean spat through his teeth.

Micheal tried the code and smiled while Dean cursed the bastard. He seriously considered Torxing him on the spot, but decided to hide his hand and bide his time. As bad as he wanted to hurt Micheal Dixon-Smith, now wasn't the right time.

"See. That wasn't so hard."

Micheal found the number and hit the call button.

"The hunt is on," he smiled.

Dean couldn't wait to carve that smug smile off his face.

Recommended Context : Three Deaths, Chapter 15: The Good Fight

Chapter Text

No halo, baby I'm the reason why Hell's so hot

Inferno, baby I'm the reason why bad's so fun,

Hell's so hot, oh so...

Terribly terrible, she's a villain

One as sweet as caramel, she's my saint

Think I'm getting butterflies, but it's really

Something telling me to run away...

No halo, baby I'm the reason why Hell's so hot

Inferno, baby I'm the reason why bad's so fun,

Hell's so hot, oh so...

Sub Urban and Bella Poarch, Inferno

Alice's ringtone woke her from an uneasy sleep. She sat up, stomach churning and head pounding. The after effects of her little ritual shared symptoms with an awful hangover, minus the fun parts that preceded one. She grumbled as she hit the button to take the call.

"Yeah?"

"Alice?"

"Dean. Did you get it?"

"I got it."

"Great. Great, uh... ok. Give me a minute, I'll get a location on the shifter and call you back. We can meet up near the bastard and get this thing done."

"No! No, not yet," Dean said quickly. "Let's meet up first, then worry about finding the thing."

Alice frowned. The proposal was awfully inefficient. Call Dean what you would, he was rarely inefficient or late for dinner.

"Dean, that makes no sense. Why..."

Suspicion filled Alice.

"Why worry later when you can worry now?" she prompted.

"Well, worrying'll kill you if you do too much of it," Dean responded. Alice's blood ran cold.

The phrase was code. So Allison had taught Dean more than sign language after all.

Someone on the other end of the line cursed under their breath, just loud enough for Alice to hear.

"You're really using our family's codes to tip that traitor off? Like we don't all know what that means. Moron."

"Sorry, Alice. He threatened Mary," Dean growled.

"Tell him the jig is up," Alice sighed. "Put him on."

"She wants to talk to you."

"Big mistake, Winchester."

The man's voice grew louder, clearer.

"Alice Smith. It's been a long, long time."

"Sure. Do I know you?"

"You should. I saved your life once."

"Sorry pal, if I had a nickel for everyone who saved my life, I'd have enough money to hire someone to save my ass full-time. You're gonna need to be more specific."

"My name is Micheal Dixon-Smith. I opened a door for you once. Remember me now?"

"Oh yeah, that time when Greta was gonna sacrifice me," Alice recalled. "Fun times."

"Opening that door was the worst mistake I ever made in my life. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to rectify it."

"Big words. You have to find me first."

"Do I?"

"Well, I'm sure as hell not coming to you."

"Not even if I put this call on speaker phone and let you listen while I slice pieces off your boyfriend here?"

"Who, Dean? Maybe you never got the memo, bub, but we fell out a long time ago. Don't waste your time."

"Well I gotta say, for two people supposedly fallen out for so long, he was awfully slow to give you up. My money's on this fling not being as dead as you two say it is."

"How much money? I'll take it off your hands if you feel like throwing it away."

"You're bluffing."

"Think so? Call it then."

"Fine."

A long, torturous moment passed, tension intensifying Alice's headache. She searched for ibuprofen while she waited. As soon as she found the bottle, she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist smashing into someone's face. Dean's abrupt cries sounded hollow and far away over the phone, but they still made Alice flinch. The beating went on while Alice's mind raced, paralyzing her.

What to do? She couldn't hand herself over to the Smiths. They were going to kill her. If she didn't hand herself over, they were going to kill Dean. Slowly, if the sound of it was any indication. Could she buy herself time by putting her cards on the table, folding her bluff and begging Micheal to stop? No. That would only make things worse.

Alice had no choice but to double down and take this game to the next level. She had been running from the Smiths for seven years, hiding, pulling punches. Now, they had finally managed to corner her. Alice resolved to make them regret it.

On the line, the sounds of the beating stopped. Micheal Dixon-Smith picked the phone up again, breathing heavily into the receiver, winded after assaulting Dean.

"So, Alice. You were saying?"

Alice snarled silently, lips curling back with unvoiced rage as her eyes narrowed to slits. She hung up and hurled her phone against the wall with a primal scream. She hated having her hand forced. She hated herself for sending Dean into the meat grinder. More than anything in the world, she hated, loathed, absolutely despised her family.

"This is the last damn time, damn Smiths, if they think..."

Alice grabbed the bottle of chloroform, muttering darkly to herself as she soaked a rag with it, preparing to ditch her host for a while.

It was time for drastic action.

"Alice? Alice? Alice!"

Dean heard the line go dead. He spit out a mouthful of blood as Micheal hit redial.

"Don't leave me a message. Lose this number. That means-"

Dean laughed at Micheal maniacally as he stared at the phone in disbelief.

"Alice doesn't give a crap what happens to me!" Dean spat, still laughing even as dread filled him. It was too funny, the thought that after all this time, everything he'd been through, it was Alice who would get him killed. He should have known better, should have known she was bad news. He did know it, as a matter of fact. He remembered very clearly every misgiving he'd had coming into this. He'd known working with Alice was a bad idea and he'd done it anyway. He played with the devil and now he was getting his due.

"No way. I don't buy it. It's a ploy," Micheal growled, advancing on Dean to smack him again. Dean kept laughing, unable to get over the unbearably ironic geese coming home to roost over his head.

Despite the gravity of the situation, hope sprung eternal. Through the pain raining down on him like a meteor shower, Micheal's jacket fell open, baring the knife sheathed at his hip. In his rage, he was too close to Dean, too busy venting his frustration to make sure the blade was out of Dean's reach...

Carol watched from by the door, teeth pulling at her lip as her brow furrowed at her cousin's loss of control.

"Dixon, I don't think-"

"They're playing us!" Micheal shouted, interrupting Caroline as he pelted Dean with blow after blow. " They think we're stupid enough to fall for-"

"DIXON!"

Caroline shouted and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Dean.

"TAKE A WALK, DIXON!" she barked, pushing his chest with both hands and sending him stumbling toward the door. The sheer volume and authority she managed to conjure surprised Dean. It didn't match her appearance or the demeanor she'd shown him earlier.

"BACK OFF, CAROL!" Micheal shouted back, advancing again. Caroline positioned herself between him and Dean, hands on her hips as she blocked his way. He got in her face, cutting an intimidating figure with nearly a foot more height than she had and rage that rolled off him in waves.

"You're too close to this! You're being sloppy!" Caroline snapped, undaunted by her cousin.

"CAROL!"

"Use your brain, Dixon!" Caroline hissed. "Whether it's a play or not, whether or not he's any good as a bargaining chip, he's no good to us dead! Which is what he's gonna be if you don't get yourself under control! So TAKE. A. WALK!"

"Kaydie left me in charge!" Micheal reminded her. "You're way out of line!"

"So take a walk and call Kaydie!" Caroline said, holding her ground as he bore down over her. They locked gazes for a long time, battling wills while Dean bled quietly behind them, watching the show down that would determine his immediate fate. Blood streamed from his nose and he could feel his right eye swelling shut. Finally, Micheal scoffed and backed down.

"I'm not calling Kaydie. And you're not calling her either. You understand, Carol? Alice is mine."

"You want revenge, I get it," Caroline started.

"How could you?" Micheal hissed scornfully. "You weren't here! You didn't even see the attack! You didn't watch while she murdered-"

"I lost family too that day, Dixon!" Caroline spat. "What, you think it was any easier finding out about it after the fact?! Coming home to-"

She stopped herself, glancing back at Dean like she'd just remembered he was there. She grabbed Micheal's arm and hauled him out of the room with her, slamming the door behind them. Outside, Dean could still hear them fighting, trading words too muffled by distance for him to make out.

"Sloppy bastard," Dean sneered softly, his tone nasal past a nose that was probably broken. He grinned through bloody teeth and flipped Micheal's knife out from under the armrest of the chair he was tied to. Careful as the Smiths were, emotion could make anyone slip up. Especially ones as violent as those Micheal was allowing to consume him.

Dean grunted, wincing as he struggled to twist his wrist far enough to saw at his bindings. His tendons felt like they were going to snap, pressure from the ropes stopping them from pulling as far as they naturally could. His fingers grew numb, pins and needles settling in his fingertips as he strained to keep his grip on the knife at such an awkward angle. Outside, he realized he couldn't hear the Smiths fighting anymore. He hurried, fearing his window was closing quickly. The rope frayed, split and finally fell away.

"Hell yeah! Now we're talking!"

Dean sliced through the ropes binding his other hand and bent down to free his feet. As soon as he took his eyes off the door, he heard it opening.

"What the... Hey!"

He froze and looked up to see Caroline pointing a gun at him.

"Damn it."

Disappointment settled over Dean like a layer of fresh snow, turning him into a statue while his spirits fell to the floor. Caroline surprised him by looking amused. She fought back a smile even as she spoke firmly.

"Knife on the floor. Slide it over. You try anything, I shoot."

Dean complied, settling back in the chair with a sigh while Caroline retrieved the knife. She examined it, snorting when she saw Micheal's initials on the hilt. She tucked it into her belt.

"I gotta hand it to you, that was a good trick," she said appreciatively.

"Spare me the good cop routine," Dean groaned.

"So I guess you don't want this then?" Caroline asked, keeping her gun trained on him while she pulled a rag out of her pocket. She tossed it to him and he caught it, gingerly stemming the flow of blood from his nose.

"I'm gonna put this away," Caroline went on, relaxing her grip on the gun. "Just bear in mind, I'm a quick draw and a great shot. Don't make me shoot you, ok?"

Dean just glared at her while he wiped the worst of the blood off his face. Still, hopelessness didn't overtake him. He had one final, desperate play to make.

Dean said a prayer, reached out to his guardian angel. He waited for Castiel to appear at his side.

"I'm sorry about Micheal. He's off the reservation. I guess he-"

"Look, drop the act!" Dean snapped, fed up with Caroline. "I wasn't born yesterday! I've been on both ends of more interrogations than... you know what, just stop, ok?! You're not fooling anyone with the nice girl routine."

"I don't have any routines," Caroline said, rolling her eyes. "If you've been through so many interrogations, you ought to know we don't need anything else from you."

"Bull. If you didn't want something from me, I'd be dead already."

"We're not the bad guys, Winchester. You're a good hunter. We've got no problem with you, we just want Alice. After that, you're free to go."

"Not the bad guys. Interesting line from the people threatening to go after my kid," Dean hissed.

"Like I said, Micheal's off the reservation."

Dean snorted derisively and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his nose straight up to his brain like daggers.

"Ugh! Well, a Smith with a conscience... I gotta say, that's a first."

"Come on, Winchester, you have to know our family's not all bad," Caroline frowned. "I mean, you married one of us, after all."

Dean did a double take, bewilderment crossing his battered features.

"Excuse me? No I didn't!"

"Really? You and Allison Smith never..."

"Why the hell does everyone think that was a thing?" Dean demanded.

Caroline shrugged and raised her hands.

"Whatever. Not my business."

"Damn right it's not! That sure as hell didn't stop you creeps from spying on us for years! Don't talk to me about Smiths not being the bad guys. If it walks like a duck and talks like a-"

Dean was interrupted by a world-rending crash from outside. The ground shook beneath their feet and pieces of plaster pelted Dean and Caroline as the house wobbled dangerously from some enormous impact. If Dean didn't know better, he would have thought an airliner crashed just outside.

"What the-"

Dean's chair toppled over, taking him with it. Caroline drew her gun immediately and even through the shock of being thrown to the ground, Dean was impressed with her vigilance. She wasn't lying when she said she was a quick draw. His head spun and ached, ears ringing and stars dancing across his field of vision from his head hitting the tiles.

"Ugh! What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, clutching his head as Caroline stumbled, leaning against the wall for support as the world settled around them. The dust from the ceiling stopped falling and the shaking stopped. They both coughed through the white cloud that engulfed them. Dean wondered what the hell was keeping Cas.

"Don't move!" Caroline snapped, pulling her phone from her pocket shakily. She punched in a number and held it to her ear.

"Dixon! What the hell was that?!"

Shock and disbelief dominated her expression as she listened to Micheal over the phone. From where Dean lay, legs still tied to the chair, hindering his mobility, all he could hear was frantic, high-pitched gabbling from the other end.

"What's he saying?!" Dean demanded. Caroline ignored him.

"Well what's the protocol for something like this?! What do you mean, 'no protocol'?! We have a protocol for everything!"

The line went dead and Caroline stared at her phone with open-mouthed shock.

"He hung up on me!" she exclaimed, indignant. She forcibly composed herself and focused her attention back on Dean to find him struggling to untie his feet. With a growl, Caroline fired a warning shot that made Dean jump.

"Hands on your head!" she barked. "One more wrong move and I'm gonna start putting holes in you, Winchester!"

"You just want me to sit here and wait for another... hell, I don't even know what that was!" Dean yelled, though he did as she ordered.

"It was a jet," Caroline said, eyes glazed. "A fighter jet just crashed right outside our east wall."

"What?!"

Before Caroline could get another word out, the door flew open and Micheal barreled into the room, surveying the scene with panic that was tempered a little by the disarray in the room.

"Why are his hands free?!" Micheal demanded.

"Because you're losing your edge!" Caroline snapped. She drew his knife, held it up for him to see, then tossed it to him. He caught it deftly, scowling as he flipped it between his fingers and shoved it angrily back into its sheath. Dean might have been impressed by the display if he wasn't busy trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

"What the hell's happening out there?!" Caroline demanded.

"Tommy's evacuating people," Micheal replied grimly. "It's happening again."

"What's happening again?"

"She's coming after us. Again."

"Who, Alice?! With military planes?!" Caroline demanded. "Micheal, you're not- you're not making sense! This has to be some freak accident, it has to-"

"It's not!" Micheal shouted. "The bitch is insane! She's out to kill us all, once and for all! We need to-"

Micheal's phone rang, slicing through the discord like a chainsaw through a mess of wood chips. Micheal scrambled to answer it with hands that shook. He put the call on speaker while Caroline took a step toward him, holding her breath in anticipation.

"You there, Smith?"

A woman's voice. It wasn't Alice. At least, not in the same body. If Dean had to hazard a guess, he'd have said she was jumping hosts.

"Who-"

"Here's the deal, Mr. Micheal Dixon-Smith," the woman said, removing all doubt that it was indeed Alice speaking. "That was a warning shot. You're screwing with the wrong ghost, buddy. You don't want a war with me, Smith. I can go anywhere I want, take anything I want. Let's just say the military base at Millington isn't exactly spirit-proof. So you're gonna let Dean go."

"We're not-"

"I'm not done. You're gonna let Dean go. You're gonna give him that colt too."

"This is the worst bluff I've ever heard in my life," Micheal sneered. "What are you gonna do, blow this place sky-high with Dean inside? I don't think so."

"Dean's dead whether I level your little fortress or not. Between going out in a blaze of glory and being slowly tortured to death, what do you think he'd choose? My money's on the blaze of glory."

On the floor, Dean shrugged just in time for Micheal to see him do it. Inwardly, he ramped up the fervence of his prayers. Castiel's uncharacteristic failure to appear was starting to make him nervous. Another terrible irony. Of course, after years of trying to ditch the feather-brain, Dean would finally lose him just as soon as he needed a little help.

"She's not wrong," he said, smirking at Micheal. "Blaze of glory is more my style."

Micheal shot Dean a burning glare and opened his mouth to snap at Alice, but Caroline snatched the phone from him and shushed him.

"Alice? You don't know me. My name is Caroline Smith. Let's talk this thing through."

"What's left to talk about? Was something unclear about my terms?"

"We can't accept either of your conditions, Alice. You should know that."

"Then this conversation is over."

"Hold on! Look, I get it. This showdown has been a long time coming. I'm sure you've got all kinds of fun ideas about how to wipe us off the map."

"You bet your ass I do."

"Good for you. Here's the thing though. There haven't been many Smiths living inside these walls since you killed Greta. We're spread out, unincorporated. You can destroy our home, but there's no way you'll ever be able to kill us all. And as long as even one of us is left alive, you'll be hunted."

"Big whup, I'm already hunted."

"You don't have to be."

"That so?"

"How would you like to end this war once and for all, cousin?"

"I swear, if you ask me to turn myself in-"

"No! Of course not."

"Carol! What the hell are you doing?!" Micheal hissed, trying to swipe the phone from her. Caroline brushed off his attempts and went on.

"We can do this like civilized people instead."

"I'm listening."

"Pistols at dawn. You, Micheal, and a pair of witnesses. One duel to the death, and we call it even."

"CAROLINE!" Micheal shouted. He finally managed to get on her nerves and she sucker-punched him out of the blue, sending him reeling toward the door. Dean was trying hard not to like Caroline, but he had to admit, she was making it awfully tough. Dean grinned at Micheal's pain, savage satisfaction filling him as the douchebag clutched his face and cursed.

"As I was saying, it's a little old-fashioned, but there's nothing like the classics for settling a blood feud," Caroline said grimly.

"Sounds like a setup."

"You and Micheal will be the only ones armed. It'll just be the four of us. Two guns, two bullets, one shot a piece. We'll bring Dean. He can be your witness. I'll witness for my family."

"Let me guess. Micheal's gonna have the colt."

"Of course."

Alice was quiet for a long minute while she thought it over. Dean knew what she was thinking. If it went sideways, she could ditch her host again and go back on the lamb. On the surface, there was little risk, but if Dean had learned anything about the Smiths, he'd learned that nothing was ever as it seemed with them. There was always something nasty lurking under the surface, waiting to rise and bite you in the ass.

Dean almost called out, almost warned Alice, almost told her not to do it, but he stopped himself. Bad as this duel could turn out for Alice, it was Dean's best shot at getting out of here. Cas either couldn't hear Dean or couldn't reach him. Whatever the case, the end result was the same. If Alice didn't agree to this duel, Dean's options were reduced to a slow death at Micheal's hands or a fiery one at Alice's. He bit his tongue, pursed his lips and waited with the Smiths for Alice's answer. The silence in the room was saturated with tension, expectations pulled back like rubber bands stretched to their limits. All they could do was wait for the inevitable, impending snap.

"Fine. You've got yourself a deal."

The whole room breathed a sigh of relief at Alice's words.

"But I'm warning you right now, Smith," Alice added, "You assholes break your word this time, you trick me, you try anything funny, and I will end your whole, rotten bloodline."

She hung up and Caroline tucked Dean's phone into her pocket with a heavy sigh.

"Well, you wanted revenge," she told Micheal, who still had his head up trying to stop his nose from bleeding. "Here's your shot."

"You don't have the authority to make an offer like that!" Micheal snarled, his nasal words falling flat of the aggressive mark he was going for. "Kaydie's not going to be happy about this!"

"Kaydie's not here!" Caroline snapped. "It's like you said, right?"

"I was talking about hunting Alice down like the monster she is!" Micheal protested. "Not bargaining with her like-"

"Shut up! Shut up, Dixon!" Caroline snarled. She got in his face, finally losing her temper with him. "This family has lost enough, damn it! It's time to end this bullshit, and this is how we do it! You wanted to kill her! You wanted to be the one to take the shot! So now you're the one taking the shot! What, is the playing field a little too even for you?! Would you rather stick her in a cage and shoot her like an animal?! That's not justice, Dixon! That doesn't honor our fallen family, that makes us a pack of criminals! It makes us just as bad as she is! Hell, it makes us worse, and you know it! So stop your whining, clean yourself up, and get that gun ready! This ends tomorrow!"

Drawn up to her full height, eyes alight with rage, words ringing with righteous wrath and undeniable truth, Caroline transformed before Dean's eyes from a demure young lady into a force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, Dean's impression that she wasn't cut out to lead the Smith family was torn to shreds. Underneath her quiet, polite presentation, Caroline hid a fair wisdom that overlaid a commanding streak that paled even Kaydie's by comparison. Micheal had nothing to say, no recourse, no argument that could hold a candle to her logic. Cowed, he just nodded and slunk out of the room, leaving Dean and Caroline alone.

"Boy, you spanked him soundly," Dean commented, still on the floor.

Caroline sighed and slumped a little, seemingly exhausted by the effort it took to conjure up the imposing presence she'd just filled the room with. She drew her gun and leveled it at Dean, her practiced stance lackluster, devoid of energy, if no less threatening.

"You can untie your feet now. Slowly. Then we're going down that hall."

She pointed behind him.

Dean freed himself without enthusiasm. He disentangled himself from the chair and struggled to his feet, grunting and grimacing the whole way up. Caroline nodded in the direction she wanted him to walk, following him with her gun and guard up while he limped along cooperatively. Dean thought about rushing her, but Caroline kept enough distance between them that he knew he would be dead before he took his second step.

"The door on the left."

Dean opened the door and walked through into a dark room.

"There's a light switch on the wall. Right of the door. Close it behind yourself."

Dean looked back at Caroline one last time before following her orders. Her expression was indecipherable, cold professionalism masking whatever emotions lurked behind her stoic facade. Dean closed the door, plunging himself into complete black. Outside, he heard the click of a lock. He searched for the light switch, heavy breaths loud as thunder but soft next to the pounding of his heart and the roar of blood in his ears. The few seconds it took for him to flood the room with light stretched on into hours, time dragging under the weight of Dean's anticipation and anxiety. What would he see when he turned on the light?

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, his heartbeat slowed and his breathing steadied. The windowless room was as empty as the one he'd just come from. Scars around the edges of the floor suggested that the room had once been carpeted, but now the pine subfloor was exposed. Wallpaper had been stripped, revealing layers of paint underneath, likely decades in the making. From place to place, Dean saw patches of sky blue, lavender, light green and white. Stubborn pieces of wallpaper still held on in places, white flowers on gold vines hinting at what the room might have looked like before it was stripped bare.

Dean let out a breath he'd been holding since he woke up tied into a chair, leaning against the wall and slowly sliding down to sit. He hated to count his eggs before they were laid, but it was looking like he was going to get out of this alive after all. Now that he had time enough to think of anything but survival, he reviewed the chaotic events of the last hour. With the benefit of hindsight, he worried that he'd made a mistake. His mind jumped back to his decision not to speak up when Alice accepted the duel and regret washed over him as he realized something for the first time.

Alice didn't want him dead, didn't want him hurt. He wasn't sure if she was bluffing or not when she threatened to blow him sky-high along with the Smiths, but there was one thing he did know; if Alice really didn't care, she would have done nothing. She wouldn't have bothered jacking a plane, wouldn't have called the Smiths back to offer them her ultimatum. If Alice really didn't give a crap what happened to Dean, she would have disappeared. She had nothing riding on Dean's safety.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, tone flat as he realized Alice was actually going out of her way, taking a huge risk to save him. He was too tired, too beat, too stressed to deal with the emotional impact of the revelation that for whatever reason, after all this time, Alice still cared about him. In her own, especially neurotic way.

Dean packed it away for later. For now, all he knew was that he needed to repay the favor in kind. There was no way in hell the Smiths weren't angling to screw Alice over. All Dean knew was that, with Alice sticking her neck out for him, he couldn't let her family get away with tricking her. Whatever trap they had in store for her, he needed to do whatever he could to make sure they didn't succeed.

Chapter Text

"Fuck."

The truth was, Alice was bluffing hard. Micheal Dixon-Smith was right. She didn't have it in her to annihilate the Smiths while they had Dean. She told herself she didn't care about him anymore, that she just couldn't betray him again. She told herself her strict 'diet' of good deeds wouldn't allow it. She ignored the fact that when she pictured Dean dead again, panic and anguish settled in her gut, festering within seconds to make her feel physically sick. She told herself she owed him, had to make it up to him for the times she'd shattered his trust.

She knew she was lying to herself, but she ignored that fact too.

"Fuck!"

Alice was relieved at Dean's greatly increased chances of walking out of this mess alive. She was relieved that his kid hadn't actually gotten dragged into it. The last thing she needed was Dean Winchester blaming her for yet another catastrophe. She was still trying to make it up to him for the last one she was responsible for. Despite that relief, she found herself burdened with mortal dread. Alice was good at a lot of things, but she wasn't exactly a great shot. A lifetime of stubbornly preferring knives had, it seemed, finally caught up with her. She always justified her bias with contrived practicality. Guns were loud, messy, attracted attention, not to mention that half the things she hunted on a regular basis would spit a bullet back out and laugh.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She still had hours to go. She needed to get back to her shifter host, get her hands on a revolver and practice her ass off until it was time to do this.

Alice would have damn near sold her soul to get her old abilities back. Sure, her Trickster's Touch had its share of drawbacks, tied her in plenty of unsavory knots before she got the hang of watching what she said, but Alice knew the Smiths weren't shooting straight with her about this duel. This was a setup at best, a death trap at worst. She shuddered remembering the mysterious capabilities her estranged extended family possessed. She remembered the hex bags powerful enough to kill a demon or even trap one as high up the food chain as Lilith. She remembered the tiny vial that had the power to completely contain her spirit, bind and render her absolutely impotent. What other tricks did they have up their sleeve?

Alice knew that her odds of walking away from this fight weren't good. Briefly, her sense of self-preservation kicked in, urging her to cut and run.

Dean'll be fine. He's smart, resourceful, tough. He can get out of it on his own.

Except Alice couldn't ignore the fact that Dean wouldn't even be in this position if she hadn't sent him into the belly of the beast. Their entire past aside, that fact alone shut her inner voice up. She couldn't walk away from this.

Caroline contacted Alice twice after she arranged the fight. The first time was to set up a time and place. She let Micheal listen in on the conversation. When he was gone, she called Alice one more time.

"Pick another place," she demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"This is personal for all of us, but not all of us are acting honorably," Caroline said through gritted teeth. "I'd bet my life the first location's going to turn into an ambush. So pick another one."

"I'm three steps ahead of you," Alice informed her. In the background of the call, Caroline heard rapid gunfire. It sounded like Alice was taking practice shots. "I was already gonna call you an hour ahead of time and change the location."

The amount of distrust toward her family was starting to bug Caroline. Smiths were supposed to abide by their word. They were supposed to have a code of honor. If Dean and Alice's caution were any indication, it would seem that not all Smiths were taking that code as seriously as Caroline did.

"So I'll wait on your call," Caroline sighed.

"Sure."

"Do you know the etiquette?"

"There's etiquette?"

"Depending on what tradition you follow, there's boat loads of etiquette."

"I thought it was pretty simple. Ten steps, turn, shoot?"

"I guess that's the basics."

"And after?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

"You want to know what assurance you'll have that we won't keep coming after you."

"There is none."

"Just my word."

"Sure."

Alice's sarcasm bit Caroline's pride like ice.

"Look, Alice..."

"Save it. I don't trust you, but I'll play your game."

Caroline wanted to defend the integrity of her word, but she knew there was nothing she could say that would make Alice believe her.

"I'm sorry this family failed you," she said instead.

Caroline's words were unexpected, earnest and they caught Alice off guard. Caroline waited for her response for a long moment, before the line went dead.

Caroline meant what she said, even if Alice would never believe her. What Alice had done to their family defied logic, but she was still blood. Caroline knew her blood. She believed with an unwavering, blind faith that no Smith would turn against their own family. At least, not without provocation.

Family was nothing if not complicated. Nothing in life was messier than family, more gray in terms of morality. Even Micheal didn't deny that Greta had wronged Alice, though no one but perhaps Kaydie knew the exact nature of the slight that had escalated into such a long war. Not that it mattered how it began. All Caroline could do was try her damnedest to end it before any more Smiths lost their lives to it.

Dean didn't know how long he spent in the bare, windowless room that served as his cell. He paced, bouncing off the walls with agitation as his mind raced. He missed his daughter with a passion. All he wanted was to see her again.

"I swear to god, I'm done hunting after this," he growled to himself. "Never again. I'm too old for this shit."

Time danced around him, playing cruel tricks on his head as he struggled to keep anxiety from overcoming him. He'd been through this before. The waiting game was the hardest to play, especially when the stakes were so high. Give Dean something to do, give him something he could kill. He hated sitting on his hands while shit went down all around him, helpless to do anything but spectate.

Give him something to kill. Or in this case, someone.

Dean was deathly serious about killing Micheal. No one got away with threatening his daughter. He focused on that, using rage to sharpen his mind, harden his resolve as the wait threatened to reduce him to a nail-biting heap in the corner.

When the door finally did open, it was Caroline who came for him. She sized him up and he repaid her interest in kind. Dean's appearance was haggard. Caroline was clean, but she looked almost as tired as Dean felt. It was immediately clear to both that neither had slept a wink.

Caroline held up a pair of handcuffs, giving Dean time to see them before she tossed them into his lap.

"Put them on."

Dean complied. He'd been sitting in the corner long enough to be stiff and couldn't help wincing as he clicked the cuffs into place. Sympathy crossed Caroline's face and Dean despised it. He scowled, pushing through the pain of a split lip and a swollen eye in his determination to let Caroline know that he scorned her empathy.

"Come on," she sighed.

Dean rose, stretching as he went, shaking off his fatigue. He let Caroline guide him out of the house into the icy predawn darkness. Mist covered the ground, hiding their feet as she ushered him toward a car. Dean's car, he realized. Micheal sat in the back seat, fiddling with the barrel of the colt. Hatred surged in Dean as he fixed Micheal with a death glare. Micheal didn't spare him a glance until Caroline surprised them both by opening the driver's side door of the car and waving Dean in.

"Carol, what-"

"Alice's terms," Caroline cut him off. "Dean drives."

"She doesn't get to dictate terms to us!" Micheal snapped.

"No dictation, mutual agreement," Caroline rebutted. "Come on, Dixon, we'll end up where we need to be regardless of who's driving the car."

Micheal pursed his lips, shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't speak again. Dean started driving, hands still cuffed as they rolled out of the Smiths compound. Dean wished he could burn the place to the ground.

Caroline directed him East, over the bridge and out of Arkansas. Just as Tennessee greeted them, Dean's ringtone sounded from Kaydie's pocket. She answered the call.

"Yes. Yes, we're driving. Ok."

She held the phone up to Dean's ear. A glance in the rearview mirror allowed Dean to see Micheal's eyes narrow to slits. He leaned forward in an attempt to overhear the call.

"Dean?"

"Alice."

"Are you ok?"

"Define ok."

"You're fine," she said, relief apparent in her tone. "Can they hear us?"

"No."

"Good. How well do you know Memphis?"

"I've rolled through my fair share of times. I gotta say, I'm more familiar with Tunica," Dean quipped.

"Uh-huh, I bet. Here's what I want you to do. Pick a place. Text me the address. Don't let the Smiths see. Delete the message. I'll meet you there."

"Clandestine texting and driving? That's gonna be a tough multi-task, especially in handcuffs."

"Work it out with Caroline. Don't worry, ok? I'm playing along with this on the off-chance they actually clear my ledger, but if they touch you again I swear-"

"Spare me," Dean scowled.

"I just mean I'm gonna get you out of this, one way or another. This ends with you going back home to Mary. That's a promise."

Dean wanted to be mad at Alice, wanted to put all the blame on her for getting him into this mess, but he'd known the risks when he walked into the Smiths fortress. The sincerity in her voice made it hard for him to hold it against her.

"If you say so," he said, only the slightest edge of bitterness tinging the words. He hung up and slowed the car to a halt on the side of the road.

"What are you doing?!" Micheal demanded.

"She wants me to pick a place," Dean told Caroline. "I'm gonna get out of this car and text her the address. You're gonna keep tweedledum back there in line while I do it. Then we're gonna get this show back on the road."

Caroline nodded graciously. Dean ignored Micheal's protests as he got out of the car, mind racing as he struggled to conjure a mental map of the city he'd had a few fun times in. Inside the impala, Caroline was forced to reach back and physically restrain Micheal. His door opened enough for Dean to hear him cursing her out. He didn't have a lot of time. He texted Alice the first place that came to mind, a park he remembered only because it was next to a hotel where he'd stayed for a few nights once upon a time.

Dean deleted the message just as Micheal broke free from Caroline's grasp and tumbled out of the car. He scrambled to his feet, snatching the phone from Dean too late.

"You sneaky son of a-"

"That's enough!" Caroline barked, poking her head up out of the car. "Dean, get back in the car! We're burning darkness here. This isn't something we want to be doing by the light of day!"

"You're not seriously-"

"This is your last chance, Dixon!" Caroline snapped, silencing him as Dean slipped back into the driver's seat. He considered shoving Caroline the rest of the way out of the car and driving off, but she got back in and shut the door behind herself before he could try. She spoke to her cousin through the open back door. "Get back in the car and come represent our family in this duel, or I'll take that damn gun from you, leave you here and do it myself!"

Micheal was livid, features twisted and ugly with rage. He got back into the car and slammed the door behind him. Dean's blood boiled, but the slight against his baby went on the pile of things he was going to kill Micheal for. He let his fury simmer beneath his skin, kept it contained as he started driving.

"You're a traitor to our entire family!" Micheal snapped at Caroline. "When this is over, I'm calling a vote for your exile."

With that, Micheal confirmed what Dean already knew. If they hadn't changed the venue, the duel would have become an ambush. Otherwise, Micheal wouldn't have been upset by the change of plans.

"So now it's a crime to conduct ourselves with a little honor?" Caroline scoffed. "If this family is that far gone, you won't need to call a vote. I'll leave on my own."

Furious silence filled the impala as it sliced through the black morning, eddies of swirling mist left in the wake of its passage. Micheal fumed, Dean plotted and Caroline pondered, vigilant even through her troubled contemplation.

Dean slowed to a stop at the curb that bordered the park. Trees loomed tall in the darkness, bordering a playground and paved trails that wound and twisted away into the fog that was just beginning to thin as daybreak threatened. The three of them left the car behind. As they trekked deeper into the park, Caroline reached into her jacket pocket and produced a single bullet. She presented it to Micheal.

"You know how-"

"Fuck off, Caroline!" Micheal growled. He snatched the bullet from her and loaded it.

"Do this right, Dixon," Caroline said with narrowed eyes. "I won't stand by and watch you-"

"I get it, Carol! I get it!"

Dean sincerely doubted Micheal got it. He set his jaw. There was no way in hell Micheal was going to shoot at the same time as Alice. Lucky for Alice, Dean had something resembling a plan. Micheal wasn't walking away from this fight. Not if Dean could do anything about it.

"Where the hell is she?" Micheal demanded, searching the creeping charcoal fog for any sign of movement.

"She'll be here," Dean sighed. He nudged Caroline's arm with his elbow. "Can I have a word with you?"

She nodded and pulled him a few steps away from Micheal.

"He's gonna shoot Alice in the face the minute he lays eyes on her," Dean muttered vehemently the second they were out of earshot.

"He won't."

"You sound awfully sure."

"I had a talk with Micheal. He'll follow the etiquette."

"Yeah, well excuse me if I don't think a 'talk' is gonna keep him in line," Dean scowled. "The guy doesn't exactly respect your authority."

"Maybe not. But he respects that I'm a quicker draw than he is," Caroline said grimly. Dean's eyebrows shot up. So much for Alice and Micheal being the only ones armed.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Dean started back, but hesitated.

"You wouldn't really shoot him," he said.

"That's what he said too."

"Great. I'm feeling better about this by the second."

"Dixon won't test me," Caroline assured him.

"I guess we'll see soon."

"I guess we will."

Dean couldn't help but trust Caroline's intentions. She didn't need to let him drive them here, didn't need to let Alice change the location. Experience with her family made him want to be suspicious of her, made him want to despise her on principle, but the most he could muster against her was grudging ambivalence. She was too sincere, too transparent, too damn authentic for him to dislike her the way he wanted to. He believed that if push came to shove, she would do her best to keep Micheal in line. Her word, the non-existent family honor that she believed in so passionately, these things were more important to her than her cousin. Dean didn't fool himself for a minute into thinking that Caroline harbored anything but animosity toward Alice, but he'd known people like her before. Integrity was everything to someone like her. She was the kind of person who didn't believe in vengeance, only justice. She divided the world strictly, structured her reality in black and white with no exceptions.

Caroline may have believed Alice was evil, but she also believed that killing her the wrong way would make her just as bad as her enemy. Dean knew he didn't need to worry about Caroline. Only Micheal, fiddling with the colt as he searched the dissipating mist for any sign of Alice's arrival. Dean fixed him with a sidelong glare, malice filling him as Micheal's clumsy threat echoed in his skull.

What about her? I'm guessing she's not as tough as her Daddy, huh?

Dean's one regret was that he wouldn't be the one to pull the trigger, fire the bullet that ended Micheal Dixon-Smith's life.

Dean smelled Alice before he saw her. The stench of her cigarettes drifted over Dean and the Smiths on a slight breeze that pushed the last of the mist out of the park. Above, the sky turned cold steel gray as night began to lose its grip on the city. Alice stepped out from behind a tree, puffing away as she considered the small gathering. Caroline watched Micheal intently, alert for any sign of misconduct. Micheal's gaze shifted uneasily between Caroline and Alice, on guard for any sign of an opportunity to take his vengeance without incurring Caroline's wrath.

"So. Here I am," Alice announced after a moment. She crushed her cigarette out in the dew-slicked grass and took a few steps forward.

"Here we are," Caroline agreed. She ushered Micheal forward, bringing him face to face mere feet from his adversary. Dean felt forgotten as the silence in the park intensified, becoming thick enough to choke on as Alice and Micheal squared off.

"Backs together," Caroline directed the combatants. The pre-dawn air was frigid, but a few drops of nervous sweat collected on her brow as they followed her instructions. Micheal's gaze bore into hers, making silent demands. She shook her head at him ever so slightly, kept her eyes cold and professional, giving him no concession.

Alice was the only one avoiding eye contact with those around her. Her attention was spread thin, caution and anxiety putting her a hair's breadth away from bolting or shooting.

"Ten steps," Caroline reminded them as she hurried away to stand behind Dean. "Three. Two. One."

Dean muttered an incantation under his breath, barely breathing as his lips moved, forming the words he hoped would damn Micheal.

"Cor ad cor."

His eyes were fixed on Micheal as he waited with forced patience for his moment. One step. Two steps. Three.

Alice stepped heavily, mortal terror weighting each footfall. Four steps. Five steps. Six. Each stride felt like it could be her last. She kept waiting for Micheal to break the rules, turn and fire first, end her life and their family feud once and for all.

Micheal watched Caroline every step of the way. Seven steps. Eight steps. Nine. She was firm, immovable as a granite cliff. Her hand lingered close to her back pocket. Micheal hated her for forcing this ritual on him, but he resigned himself to his one shot. One shot was all he needed, he reassured himself with savage determination. One shot to remedy one mistake. He'd let his family down years ago by showing mercy. Today, he would show no mercy, no hesitation.

The tenth step.

Alice and Micheal whirled around to face one another. Caroline's breath caught in her throat as they raised their guns. Dean focused every ounce of rage, every iota of fury, every drop of hatred he had at Micheal with laser sharp intentions. He dug up painful things long buried, agonies he usually struggled to forget. Today, they saw the light. For once, they would do him a little good.

Micheal's body went rigid under Dean's Torxing, paralyzed with pain at the most critical moment. He had a split second to realize what was happening to him. Not long enough to move, not long enough to cry out. Just long enough to meet Dean's ugly glare and know who was truly responsible for his death.

Alice fired. Micheal fell.

Chapter Text

Dean loosened his psychic grip on Micheal seconds after Alice's bullet found its mark. Micheal tried to drag in a breath, turned his eyes to Caroline. She looked on glassy-eyed, gaze glued to the colt in Micheal's right hand, the barrel still pointed dead at the ground. Micheal couldn't draw the breath he wanted to. Panic set in, physical pain blossoming in his chest as the agony of Torxing faded entirely. He tried to bring his hand up to feel the wound, but he couldn't do that either. Try as he might, he found himself incapable of translating intent into action. He was helpless against the pull of gravity, forced to obey its will as the ground summoned him. The thump when he fell vibrated through every dead nerve in his body, but he only felt it in his head.

Micheal locked eyes with Caroline from the ground as she walked over to him slowly, crouched by his side with quiet sadness. Defeat and acceptance radiated off of her, infuriating Micheal in his dying moments.

He cheated! Dean cheated! I should have won this duel! Carol! You can't let them get away with this!

Micheal managed to contort his features into a scowl with colossal effort, but another attempt to take a breath ended in failure as blood filled his throat. The world spun and his eyes burned as he felt it suffocating him, thick and scorching as pitch. He managed a cough and red erupted toward Caroline as she reached out to comfort him.

"It's ok, Micheal," she said. Her voice was soft, expression dead even as her eyes brimmed with tears. He wanted to hit her. They had never been close. Would she mourn him, even though it was her fault he was dying?

"You did good," she assured him. "It's over. You finished it."

Micheal wanted to snarl at her, wanted to bark, wanted to scream. Nothing was over.

It was too late for any of that.

"This isn't over!"

Micheal stood over his own empty corpse, screaming at a cousin who could no longer hear him through the veil that separated them. He watched as Caroline closed his vacant eyes with two fingers while Dean and Alice slowly made their way toward one another in the background.

"Do you hear me, Carol?! I'm not done with them! And I'm not done with you! You'll pay for this, right alongside Alice!"

"Of course I would get the toughest job of the week."

The beleaguered sigh came from behind Micheal, a woman's voice interrupting his rant. He turned, already knowing what he would see. His blood would have run cold had he any. The reaper stood in a long black dress, stick thin and ivory pale in complexion. Her white lips turned down in a terse frown as she regarded Micheal severely, like he was a mess someone else had made and she had been tasked with cleaning up. Micheal turned his back to her, dropping to his knees next to his body as Caroline closed her eyes, taking a moment of silence over her fallen cousin.

"Carol, you can figure this out," Micheal plead, tone changing as it began to dawn on him that his murder would go unsolved, even with clues screaming out to Caroline. Blood seeped slowly through his black sleeves. All Smiths were Torxed at a young age, the cost of passing the ability on from generation to generation. "Look at the blood. My cuts just reopened. Last week, remember? It caught me by surprise and I had to excuse myself from a meeting. I shouldn't be bleeding now! Those cuts are half-healed. Look down. Carol! Look down!"

"CAROL!"

Caroline's eyes snapped open. Micheal saw goosebumps prick up along her arms, saw the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. A thrill shot through him as he realized that on some level, he was getting through to her.

"Carol! Look down!"

Her eyes flitted down to his sleeves. Her fingers followed, brushing over the dark cloth and coming away scarlet. She pursed her lips, a realization flashing across her face as she put the pieces together.

"Yes! It's not over! Carol, it wasn't a fair fight! They cheated! It's not over!"

Caroline spent one more moment in silent, troubled contemplation before her features hardened with resolve. She wiped the blood from her fingers and took the colt from Micheal's cold, loose grip. She stood slowly, approaching Alice and Dean. They stopped talking as she neared, giving her their full attention. Alice's eyes darted to the gun in her hand, straightening and tightening her jaw.

"Yes!" Micheal cackled, following Caroline, filled with elation as he waited for her to take vengeance for the miscarriage of justice that was his death.

"Well?" Alice prompted boldly, hands on her hips. "Moment of truth, Smith. Are you as good as your word? Was this little show worth anything? Or are you going to prove me right about your family and put that magic bullet through my heart?"

Caroline fixed Dean with her intense gaze, scrutinizing him. He crossed his arms over his chest, but the olive green sleeves of his jacket betrayed him, stained black by the blood soaking through near his elbows.

Proof. A blind fool could put the pieces together. Micheal grinned and waited for Caroline to call Dean out, declare the results null, kill them both for their crimes.

Caroline met Dean's eyes. He held her gaze adamantly, rage still simmering behind the bright green of his irises. His thoughts were clear, seeping uncontrollably past his stony expression with fiery, righteous intent. He regretted nothing. He knew he'd been found out and he didn't care. He was so certain Micheal deserved death that he was convinced of his own absolution for the sin. Foolishly, arrogantly, he neither feared nor expected repercussions for his actions.

Micheal's elation knew no bounds. He would have let it carry him to heaven were it not for Caroline's next words.

"You win, Alice."

It was a sigh, an admission of defeat.

"What?!" Micheal demanded through the veil. None of them could hear him as he raged at the injustice.

Caroline flipped the colt, offering it to Alice by the handle. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a velvet bag. It clinked when she dropped it into Alice's waiting palm, the colt's remaining bullets settling a debt.

"I'll never come after you. Neither will... most of my family."

Alice snorted as she passed the colt to Dean.

"I knew it. All you Smiths-"

"Look, I can't speak for Kaydie, ok?!" Caroline snapped. "And I can't control her either! None of us can. She's been a wild card ever since Greta died, and... I wish I could do more. I wish I could do enough to make my family's word worth something again. I just... I'm just one Smith."

The earnest defeat saturating Caroline's tone made it impossible for even Alice to mock her any further.

"I won't come after you. My family won't come after you. But you'd be wise to keep an eye out over your shoulder for Kaydie, because she'll never stop coming for you. Not til one of you is dead," Caroline warned. "And making sure you know that is the only thing I can do to protect you from her."

"Well. I guess I'll just have to kill her first, then," Alice shrugged, unshaken by the grim assurance. "Let's go, Dean."

She turned and walked away, but before Dean could follow, Caroline put a hand on his arm, over his open Torxing marks. He grimaced in pain, forced to face her.

"Winchester."

Her fingers dug into his wounds savagely, eyes alight with animosity as she seethed. Alice turned back in time to see Caroline pull Dean close enough to whisper in his ear.

"I know what you did. Next time our paths cross, you'll be as dead as Micheal."

The promise seared itself into Dean's brain, burned there like the pain in his arm as her nails gouged his flesh. She released him, glaring after him as he followed Alice out of the park.

"What the hell was that about?" Alice asked with raised eyebrows.

"Same old story," Dean sighed, wincing as he put a hand over his sleeve to slow the bleeding from his arms. "Just one more name to add to the list of people who want me dead."

"Shit. Want me to shoot her on our way out?" Alice offered.

"And screw up your new peace treaty with your family? Better not," Dean sighed as Alice grabbed a pair of bags out of her stolen car and tossed them into his back seat. "No, I'll take care of my own problems. One at a time. First, we need to give this shifter what's coming to him."

"For what it's worth, when the time does come... after we finish this hunt, screw my family and screw peace. I'll help you kill every last one of them if that's what you want."

"I just want things to go back to the way they were before this shifter showed up and turned my life inside out."

"So... you got over blaming me for that?" Alice asked as she settled into the passenger seat. Dean left her hanging, gunning the engine and tearing away from the park as the sun hurled its light over the hunters and their crimes. Alice let him put a few miles between them and Caroline before she spoke.

"Are you gonna wrap those, or were you planning to pass out from blood loss?" she asked, reaching for her backpack.

"Please. Hardly the worst I've had."

Despite Dean's nonchalance, he knew she was right. The steady crimson drip from the slashes on his arms was too persistent to ignore.

"Here."

Alice held out a roll of gauze. Dean pulled over, accepting it from her. He struggled to get out of his jacket and didn't protest when Alice reached over to help him. She tossed the blood-soaked coat into the back seat and held the end of the bandage so he could start wrapping.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Not just for this. You didn't have to do all that to get me out of that mess. I know you could have disappeared. So thanks for coming for me."

"Seriously, it was the least I could do," Alice assured him, cutting the gauze and applying a strip of tape as he started wrapping the cuts on his other arm. "After everything we... everything I..."

"Alice? Do me a favor?"

"Hm?"

"Forget all that crap. It's time to leave it in the past where it belongs."

He caught her eyes and showed her something she never dared let herself hope she would see in him.

Forgiveness.

It caught her off guard and filled her with such relief and gratitude that she actually started to choke up a little. Without acknowledging it, she had been waiting for Dean to forgive her for the last seven years. It took him going through with it for her to realize how badly she really needed the vindication.

"Yeah?" she asked, hiding the rush of emotion behind a small smile and a helpful final snip at the gauze.

"Yeah."

The exchange was short, laughably simple, but it freed Alice from the weight of the regret she'd been carrying with her for so long. Was this the blank slate she'd spent so long believing she would never get a shot at? The second chance she thought she would be denied forever?

Maybe not, but it was a start at the very least.

Dean kept the conversation moving. Alice couldn't help feeling amused, couldn't hold back a small smile. He still hated big moments as much as ever.

"So, where the hell is this slippery shape-shifting son of a bitch?"

"You just want to jump right back into the fray, huh?"

"Oh, always. Keep it moving," Dean affirmed.

"Never a dull moment when you're running with a Winchester. But don't you think sleep would be a good idea first? This is big game we're after. You're gonna want to be in top shape for this fight."

"Sure, and usually I'd take the day, get a room and sleep off my time as a hostage, but my daughter is on the line. I'll sleep after this bastard's good and dead."

Alice pursed her lips. As much as she thought Dean was underestimating the alpha shifter, under preparing as a result, she also knew better than to waste her breath reasoning with him. Nothing in this world or the next could blind Dean as quickly or whip him up into as much of a frenzy as his family. She would just have to pick up the slack, fill in the gaps and work overtime watching his stubborn back.

"Fine," Alice sighed, biting back the urge to grumble a little as she reached into the back seat to rummage through her backpack. She came back up with her chloroform kit and presented Dean with a small blue tab.

"Give me ten minutes, then scratch and wave that under my nose," she instructed him. Dean regarded it dubiously, shooting Alice a look that let her know he had questions.

"I'll be back by then," she assured him.

"Okay, but what if you're not?"

"Sandy'll make a run for it and we'll have to chase her down," Alice shrugged. "She might not bother. She knows by now that she can't get very far."

"Uh-huh."

"See you in ten."

Dean quickly rolled down his window, wrinkling his nose as Alice soaked the rag in chloroform and took a big whiff of the fumes. She draped the cloth over her face and let her hands fall to her sides as her eyes slid shut. Dean pursed his lips with concern and disapproval, but stopped himself from taking the rag off her face. He assumed that Alice knew more about the necessary steps to keep a shifter under than he did.

He checked his phone to pass the time, looking at his messages for the first time in just over a day. He wasn't surprised to see a series of unread messages from Bobby, growing more concerned every few hours. With a sigh, he sent out a quick flurry of texts apologizing, assuring Bobby he was fine and briefly recapping the events of the last twenty-four some odd hours. He waited for Bobby's reply for what felt like an eternity. The clock on his phone informed him it was actually only eight minutes that passed. He was scratching the smelling salts by the time his phone rang.

"Bobby?"

"Dean! You utter frickin' blockhead! Don't you know better by now than to do anything with that damn family of snakes?! When are you gonna get it through your damn fool head that-"

"Bobby! I got it! How's Mary?" Dean asked as he waved the tablet under Alice's nose.

"Do you get it, Dean?! Or are you jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire going from one damn fool plan to the next?!"

Alice's eyelids fluttered, taking Dean's attention away from Bobby's ongoing rant. Long eyelashes rose like stage curtains to reveal hazel eyes and Dean was dumbfounded as he realized Alice still had the ability to take his breath away. Memories of long ago tempted him, of waking up before her and waiting for her to rejoin him in the realm of the waking. Peaceful moments that it hurt him to think he would never experience again. The reminiscence was ill-timed and fleeting, but it threw Dean for enough of a loop that it left him as disoriented as Alice. It took them both a few seconds to regain their bearings.

Alice came back to her senses before Dean. She bolted upright, stiff as a rod. The brief instant of deceptive tranquility shattered as her eyes widened, frantic alarm screaming at Dean from every cell in her body.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded, interrupting Bobby, still chewing Dean out over the phone.

"Boy, are you even listening-"

"Is that Bobby?" Alice asked.

Dean nodded while Bobby placed her voice.

"Alice Smith?! Oh, Dean, tell me you're not-"

"Save it, Singer!" Alice snapped. "You need to take the kid and get the hell out of dodge!"

"What are you-"

"I hope you're talking and running at the same time!" Alice said, grabbing the phone from Dean. "The shifter's bearing down on you! You don't have long, you need to run! NOW!"

"Dean, what's she-"

"Just do it, Bobby!" Dean agreed urgently. "Call me back when you're out of there! Alice?!"

"Blindfold the girl!" Alice said in closing. "Don't let her see where you're going or he'll be able to find you again!"

"What?!"

"Bobby, go!" Dean urged. He ended the call, breath coming hard and fast as he turned to Alice, silently demanding an explanation. She was breathing just as hard as he was, eyes wide with panic and... was that a hint of guilt Dean saw?

Oh God, what did she do this time?

The thought raced through his mind, chasing itself, dominating his brain and rendering him unable to think of anything else.

"Don't be mad," Alice began. "I forgot something really, really important. But in my defense, I haven't had to worry about it in years, so..."

"What?!"

"There's a psychic link connecting the alpha shapeshifter to all his children."

Dean chewed her words over in silence, taking a moment to decode them and fully absorb their meaning.

"You're saying... what, he can read Mary's mind?"

"Well, that's... not quite, but close enough," Alice sighed. "The point is, as long as Mary knows where she is, the alpha will know too."

"Hence the blindfold."

"Hence the blindfold."

Dean held his phone, biting his lip as he waited anxiously for Bobby's call.

"How close was he?" Dean asked. "How close did the bastard get to Mary?"

"He was in Sioux Falls. That's all I know."

"Damn it, Alice!"

Dean's animosity took Alice by surprise. Shouldn't he have been grateful? Hadn't she just saved Singer's life, stopped the alpha from making off with Mary again?

"How the hell could you forget something that damn important?" Dean demanded, near growling in his fury.

"Look, it- it's been years, like I said!" Alice shot back defensively. "I sealed that door up in Sandy's head a long time ago! I'm sorry it didn't come back to me right away! I don't know what else you want from me!"

"How about you take a minute and think real hard, Alice!" Dean snapped. "See if you can remember any other important details you forgot to mention the first time around!"

Something occurred to Dean, an ugly suspicion that stoked the fire of his rage. His eyes narrowed with anger, warning Alice a split second before he grabbed her forearms, shaking as he questioned her like he thought he could knock the information loose.

"Did you really forget, or was this some kind of sick plan of yours?!" he shouted, rocking the car as Alice grunted and swatted at his hands helplessly.

"Dean!"

"YOU USED MARY AS BAIT, DIDN'T YOU?!"

"DEAN! I NEVER! GET OFF ME!"

Unable to free herself from his grip, Alice got creative. She slipped her jacket in the confined space and tangled it around Dean's arms in the process. He thrashed against the restraint, livid as she pulled the leather tighter, wrenching a cry from him as his arms twisted awkwardly. Alice threw her weight against him, forcing him against the car door and almost completely immobilizing him.

"You're lucky I like you so much, or I'd have stabbed you by now!" she spat. "Moron! Think about it for a minute, Dean! If I was gonna use your stupid kid as bait, wouldn't I make sure I was there to see the trap spring?! Huh?! If I was heartless enough to throw her into the meat grinder, why the hell would I be here saving your dumb ass instead of ending the thing that killed my sister?! Why would I- AH!"

Dean interrupted Alice by pulling the door handle, sending them both toppling out of the car onto the blacktop. Dean yanked the jacket, untwisting it to free his arms and pulling it over Alice's head before she could recover from the tumble. She gave a blind kick, but Dean was done fighting. He took a step back, leaning against the impala while Alice disentangled herself from her jacket. She faced him, fists up, ready to keep going, but Dean just shook his head and waved a hand at her dismissively.

"I believe you," he sighed. "Knee-jerk reaction. Sorry. I guess it'll take a little time before I can trust you again."

"God, you're a lot more on edge that you used to be," Alice observed, disgruntled as she shrugged her way back into her jacket. "Fatherhood looks paranoid on you."

"You'd be paranoid too. Every time I turn around something's trying to grab my baby," Dean scowled.

"Whatever, Dean. Get it together. Next time you grab me like that, I'm stabbing first, asking questions later."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you should be."

Dean's phone dinged in the car. He retrieved it quickly.

"It's Bobby," he sighed, relief apparent. "They're on the move. He gave Mary a book. Thank God. Smart Bobby, as always."

He fixed Alice with a frown of consternation.

"'Blindfold her'," he scoffed. "Some parent you would have made."

"Well excuuuuse me..." Alice rolled her eyes. "...For trying to help."

"You were on the right track, I'll give you that," Dean sighed. "Ok, we need to move while we know where this son of a bitch is."

"He'll be long gone by the time we make it to Sioux Falls," Alice pointed out.

"Fine, then you'll just have to find him again."

"Unless... I don't have to find him again."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Alice's expression change. He could see wheels turning in her head, though the direction of their machinations remained a mystery to him.

"I can tell you're thinking of saying something I'm not gonna like," he accused. "Spit it out. Go on."

"Ok. So, to be fair to me, this was actually your idea. I'm just the one saying... maybe we should take advantage of the fact that our target is reading Mary's mind."

Dean was already shaking his head, so Alice threw her hands up, rushing her next words in an attempt to get out ahead of his rage.

"I'm NOT saying we use her as bait!" Alice all but yelled, taking a step back with her hands up above her head. "I'm saying, if we play our cards right, feed Mary the right misinformation, maybe we can get this sucker to come to us. Eh? Huh?"

Dean pondered her words, ran the idea over in his mind a few times.

"Ok. I'm open to hearing more," he finally ceded.

Alice let out a theatrical sigh of relief and wiped her brow melodramatically.

"You sure you don't need to throttle me some, get it out of your system before we put a plan together?" she snarked.

"Alice-"

"I mean, I didn't offend your delicate sensibilities? I didn't take the sacred name of Mary Grace Winchester in vain? For sure?"

"Ok. Yeah, I deserved that."

"You deserve a knife in the bicep, but I guess I'll settle for stabbing you with sarcasm."

"Now you're taking it a little far."

Alice grabbed his arms and shook him playfully, pantomiming his voice in falsetto.

"'Oooh my goooood, Alice! Bait, you used her as baaaaaiiiit!' Drama queen."

"You done?"

"Sure, for now."

"You're never gonna let this one go," Dean groaned.

"I'll let it go if it ever stops being funny," Alice snickered as they got back into the car.

"So. Are you ever gonna tell me about this plan of yours?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't have a plan. Just the one idea," Alice admitted. "You wanna chip in a little, or did you lose your thinking cap somewhere along the wonderful, paranoid path of fatherhood?"

"I'll chip in over breakfast," Dean sighed. "I can't think on an empty stomach."

"Dean, you can barely think on a full stomach."

"Ok, if you spent as much time thinking of a plan to kill this shapeshifter as you do coming up with all these smart comments-"

"Don't get all mopey on me, I'll stop. You're so sensitive."

"Your... face is... sensitive."

"Ouch, good one," Alice mocked. "Sick burn. Hey Dean? Let's hope the quality of the plan we come up with is closer to my style of zinger than yours."

"I forgot how much I hate you," Dean grumbled.

Fourteen Hours Earlier

"You have to be feeling something by now!" Meg exclaimed.

She gestured back down the aisle of the liquor store they had decided to occupy. A few hours hopping from bar to bar had proven less fun than she initially hoped. Demons had a fairly high tolerance for alcohol, but it surprised her to learn that even her veteran tolerance was nothing compared to Castiel's. Behind them, every shelf in the tequila section lay bare, desolate in the wake of the angel's passage.

"I feel... something," Castiel said with his eyes narrowed tightly. Meg watched him expectantly. He held up a finger and slowly opened his mouth. He belched a little and seemed very surprised at himself. "Pardon me."

"That's it?" Meg demanded. "Damn, Clarence! If I'd have known you were such a party animal..."

She trailed off as his expression changed, grew distant. His head cocked to the side, listening to something only he could hear. Meg's cheery disposition faltered.

"Oh no," she whined. "I know that look. It's Winchester, isn't it? He's calling you."

"His prayer is urgent," Castiel observed. "It would seem the danger is... imminent."

"So what, he whistles and you're just gonna run to his side like a trained dog?" Meg said bitingly.

"Like... a good soldier," Castiel replied. Meg couldn't be sure, but she thought she detected the slightest hint of a slur in his words. The fact that he hadn't teleported away already told her that his judgement was at least a smidge more impaired than his sober facade indicated.

"I've got a riddle for you, Clarence," Meg said, pulling one of the last tequila bottles from the shelf ahead of them. "What do you call a soldier after their entire army abandons their mission, turns tail and runs?"

"Uh... I feel like this is a trick question," Castiel frowned.

"It's not. They're just called civilians at that point," Meg said slyly. "You're really telling me that you're ready to devote the rest of your existence to carrying out orders that the rest of your kind bailed on?"

He seemed torn. She could taste victory, sweet on her tongue like strawberry champagne. She opened the bottle and took a swig, then offered it to Castiel.

"Dean Winchester can take care of himself," she went on, sidling up to him, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath. He was breathing faster than usual, pupils wide in the bright light, hair even messier than it normally was. Despite his denial, Meg could tell that the tequila was finally getting to him, giving him a nice buzz at the very least. Maybe just one more push...

She lifted the mouth of the bottle to his lips and tilted, holding his gaze as he slowly drained it to completion.

"He... certainly has disdained my presence to date," Castiel admitted, slightly winded from chugging so much fluid without taking a break to breathe.

"So give him what he wants," Meg urged, sliding even closer to the angel. Their bodies touched and a sensation akin to an electric current passed between them. Castiel stood still as stone, resolute as a brick wall. He wasn't going to move and she wanted to see if he would push her away.

He never did.

"It's always fun to give a man what he wants," Meg breathed, leaning up onto the tips of her toes to whisper the words at Castiel's ear.

"Meg?"

His voice was uneven, dare she say, even a little unsteady.

"Yeah, Clarence?"

"I think I'm beginning to lose sensation in my tongue. Is this an effect of imbibing?"

"Mm. That depends. You can't feel anything at all in it?"

"Its diminished capacity for sensation is-"

"Shh, that's the wrong answer," Meg tsked. She found herself getting a little light-headed, oxytocin mixing with the alcohol in her bloodstream to form the beginnings of a truly intoxicating high. "Let me feel."

She kept waiting for him to stop her as her hands snaked around his waist. She pushed her lips against his, tongue darting out to dance briefly with the angel's. Still, he offered no resistance, let her have her way with his mouth until she pulled back, satisfied.

"Feels right to me," she told him. "Tastes like champagne and tequila. I'd say you're a little tipsy, Clarence."

"It feels... very enjoyable," he said quietly.

"Damn right it does. That's the point. How about my examination, hm? Did that feel enjoyable too?"

"It did."

"You wanna try it again?"

Meg cocked her head back, offering her lips and waiting for him to make the next move.

"I should... find out what's wrong with Dean," Castiel managed hesitantly.

"Forget Dean," Meg purred, bringing one of her hands up to caress his neck, winding its way up into his hair. "My tongue feels funny too, Clarence. Return the favor and check it for me, will you?"

She pulled him down ever so slightly, nudging him in the right direction and feeling immense satisfaction when he took the cue. His kiss was clumsy, but he followed her guidance and for a moment, Meg even thought she felt a little spark of passion behind Castiel's usually methodical actions.

"Still enjoying yourself?" Meg asked when they finally broke apart.

"Very much so."

"Oh honey, if you like this, I can't wait to give that straight halo of yours a real spin," Meg grinned. "What do you say? Forget Winchester?"

"I..."

"Say it. Forget Winchester."

He was still reluctant, so Meg turned up the heat a little. She brought her knee up, gently probing between his legs and humming with satisfaction at what she found there. Both off balance and distracted, they stumbled back together, crashing against the shelves on the wall and sending empty bottles down to shatter against the linoleum underfoot.

"Go on, Clarence, say it," Meg urged, replacing her knee with grasping fingers as Castiel gasped. His lips sought hers again, but she evaded, nibbling his neck to coax the words from his throat. "Say it. Forget Winchester."

"Forget... forget Winchester," he rasped eagerly.

"Forget Winchester!"

"Forget Winchester!"

"He can take care of himself!"

"He can!" Castiel echoed. Together, they slid down the wall, the floor welcoming them with a bed of broken glass and alcohol puddles as they both grew more frantic.

"That's good," Meg crooned, guiding Castiel's awkward hands over her body. His lips found her neck, lapped at her pulse in imitation of what she'd done to him mere seconds earlier. He was a quick learner, Meg observed happily.

"Now let me take care of you, huh Clarence? What do you say?"

All he managed were desperate, panting breaths and small humming moans. Meg decided to take his silence as a yes.

Chapter Text

"It's a good plan, Dean, I just..."

"Just what, Bobby?"

Dean and Alice set up shop in a cheap motel, preparing for their ambush. If all went well, their hunt might be over before nightfall. Alice sharpened a silver blade with the utmost care while Dean disassembled and cleaned the colt.

"Do you have any idea at all how hard it is keeping a seven year old's eyes off the road?"

"It's actually super easy," Dean sighed. "Just download some games onto your phone and let her play with it while you drive. She'll go all zombie on you."

Allison would have hated the suggestion. She didn't want Mary zoned out on devices her whole childhood, but Dean reasoned that once couldn't hurt much.

It's for a good cause, Auntie Ally, he thought to himself, sending the sentiment out like a prayer into the aether. Maybe she was watching them from somewhere up on high. Maybe she would get the silent message in a bottle. Maybe she wouldn't judge him so harshly.

"Look at that," Bobby chuckled. "I ever tell you that you don't make a half bad father, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, only after you've had your coffee," Dean scoffed. "You ready?"

"Sure."

"Got me on speaker?"

"Not yet."

"Ok, well..."

"You're on. And..."

Dean waited a moment while Bobby walked back into earshot of Mary.

"Give me that address one more time, Dean," Bobby said loudly. "I've got a pen and paper right here. Shoot, you know what? Mary, say hi to your Dad for me. He's gonna give you something to write down for me while I take a look under this hood to see what's been knocking around in there."

"Ok. Daddy?"

"Heya, sweet pea," Dean smiled. "Whatcha been doing?"

Alice watched him out of the corner of her eye while she refined the edge of the blade. The way he smiled talking to his daughter stirred strange feelings up from somewhere near the bottom of her heart. His green eyes gleamed and crinkled and the weight of the world slid off his shoulders while she watched. Mary made Dean happy in a way that was mournfully familiar to Alice. He looked complete talking to her.

Alice couldn't help remembering a time when he used to smile at her like that. Sadness knocked, whispering jealous little tidings into Alice's ear. She wished she could still put a look like that on Dean's face, but she'd been replaced as the best part of his life. She had her chance and she blew it. It was all she could do to sigh and turn her attention back to the knife in her hand. She supposed there was solace to be had in the thought that Dean had found his last true love. Mary would never hurt him the way Alice had, the way lovers hurt each other. The love she and Dean shared was pure, unadulterated by the drama and convolution that had poisoned what Alice and Dean used to have. Mary was everything Dean really needed. Someone to protect, someone to cherish. Someone he could lose himself fighting for.

Alice tried to be happy for him, but pettiness stopped her short of sincerity. She could never fully kill the part of herself that wanted to be that person for him. It was a relief when Dean finally hung up the phone, sighing heavily as he tucked it into his pocket.

"Well, the trap's been set," he sighed. "Think he'll bite?"

"Absolutely."

"You're so sure."

"I know this son of a bitch. We've been circling each other for almost... god it must be nearly five years now," Alice realized. "He won't rest until he has what he considers to be his."

"Mary. You say you know him so well... what the hell does he want with her?" Dean asked.

"Wow, you really have stopped hunting, haven't you?"

"Bobby's the only hunter I stayed in contact with, and we don't talk about that world," Dean explained.

"It shows. There aren't many shifters left these days, Dean. I made it a personal mission to exterminate them. Since I have the inside track and all... the alpha is getting desperate. He's one of few. Hell, after you raided their rally point looking for Mary, he might actually be the last one. Sandy and Mary notwithstanding, of course. My guess? He needs Mary under his wing to make sure she follows in his footsteps."

"You mean he wants her to carry on his long line of of homicidal maniac shifters."

"That's my best guess anyway."

"Well he can't have her."

Dean finished reassembling the colt with a click and a snap. He stood, posture determined and imposing.

"You about ready to roll?" he asked.

Alice nodded silently, wiping the burr from the edge of her blade and putting it back in the ankle sheath where it belonged.

"Let's do it."

The address Dean had given his daughter was in Sioux Falls, an abandoned house he learned about from Bobby. The surrounding neighborhood was run down and squalid and quite a few someones had done them the courtesy of breaking into the house for them. Dean and Alice entered through a busted back window and took their places in the vacant, dusty central room. Dean had told Mary that Bobby would be bringing her to meet them there. The shifter was already in the area. He would show up expecting a fight, but the hunters were as ready as they could be.

"Think he'll show his face without knowing that Mary's here first?" Dean said. He was starting to have serious doubts about their plan.

"He'll know that we're here, he'll assume we don't know he's coming," Alice ventured. "Not to mention that I'm a vendetta to him at this point. Knowing that I'm here? He'll show up just so he can gut me."

"Sounds personal."

"Only for him. From his perspective, I was slaughtering his children. From mine, I was an exterminator taking care of a pest problem."

Alice shrugged while Dean regarded her with a newfound fascination. Looking at Alice was a little like staring through the looking glass. She was a snapshot of something he used to be, someone still wholeheartedly living the life he'd turned his back on years ago.

"And after you took care of all the shifters?" he prodded. "Then what, start picking off the next breed of monster, work your way down the list?"

"You know better than to ask me that," Alice rolled her eyes. "Or have you been out of the game so long you forgot? I'm not gonna waste my time worrying about what I'm gonna do tomorrow. Not when my odds of dying today are so high."

"You're not... you haven't ever..."

Dean took a few minutes to gather his thoughts and word his next question carefully.

"Don't you ever get tired of the hunt?"

"Nah."

"Seriously?"

"Dean, hunting is my one true love. If I wasn't hunting, I'd probably be serial killing," Alice chuckled. Still, the words she intended as a joke fell a little flat, devoid of the humor they needed to be funny. They felt closer to a confession. "What about you?"

"I'm good."

"You never miss the chase? The thrill of the kill?"

"Never."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Sorry, Dean, I don't believe you," Alice shrugged. "You and me? We're made of the same stuff. And the bloodlust? Sure, sometimes it hibernates and... gives you room to breathe. Sometimes it stays asleep for long enough that you can tell yourself it's gone. But you and I both know it always come back, sooner or later. There's always gonna be a day when you wake up with that itch in your fingers and that red in your eyes. That... empty, raging hole deep inside you that just wants to be fed."

Dean opened his mouth to snap at her, but closed it again. As much as he wanted to tell her she was wrong, he couldn't silence the voice that told him she was right. The voice reminding him that secretly, shamefully, he'd enjoyed torturing the shapeshifter who eventually told him where to find Alice. The voice that recalled to him the satisfaction he'd felt when he watched Micheal die. A hundred dead monsters would agree with Alice. So would a few dozen humans.

He couldn't bring himself to contradict her.

"So, you'll keep hunting til it kills you?" he asked instead.

"That's the plan."

"Hm. I think you outta give civilian life a spin before you go out," Dean said. "You never know, it might surprise you."

"Uh-huh. I'll just retire all my knives and settle down. Get a crappy nine to five, wake up and go through the motions like a wind-up toy. Spend my nights wishing I could blow my brains out just like all the other faceless Johns and Janes who come and go without ever moving anything more than the dust it takes to bury them. Sounds like the life."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. You can still live on your own terms, just... you know what? Never mind."

"Dean, I... look, I appreciate the sentiment," Alice sighed, realizing her sarcasm had been a mint too sharp. "You got out and somehow, it seems like you're pretty happy with your new life. It's nice of you to want the same for me, but... I'm as happy as I'm ever going to be."

"If you say so," Dean sighed skeptically. He knew she was lying, to himself and to her, but he was done trying to get her to admit it.

"Hey."

Alice caught Dean's gaze, eyes sparkling with a mischief that confounded Dean.

"Want to make me happier?"

"What? How? I'm not gonna let you stab me," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"I am stabhappy, but... ah, you know what, never mind."

"No, what?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, Alice-"

"You know, it's too late now, but I just had an even better idea than this plan of ours," Alice announced, cutting him off.

"Shoot."

"We could have just given Mary the colt and waited for the alpha to catch up to us," she shrugged.

"Alice, why..."

Dean let his face fall into his hands.

"How is that any different from using her as bait?" he demanded.

"'Cause she has all the power in that scenario!" Alice explained. "She's not sitting there like a worm on a hook relying on us to save her in time."

"That's a terrible idea!"

"Why?!"

"Alice, I don't want my daughter to have to shoot something!"

"She'd enjoy it," Alice said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Hell, between you, Danny and whatever part of me she managed to inherit, I'm honestly shocked she's as sweet as she is."

"You're awful. You're just... you're terrible, Alice," Dean scoffed, struggling to keep the amusement out of his tone. He had to admit that the thought of his little girl pulling the trigger on the thing that kept trying to abduct her filled him with savage satisfaction. He pushed the feeling aside, morality and good parenting instincts stepping up to overshadow it. He would protect Mary from being pulled into that life as ferociously as he protected her from the monsters that defined it.

"Yeah, well-"

Alice fell silent as a low creak sounded from the back of the house. She and Dean snapped to attention, sharing a tense glance. Dean drew the colt, headed for a doorway and motioned for Alice to take the other. They separated, stalking from room to room on high alert. Dean's heart pounded, sweat collecting on his brow as he remembered the last time he'd gone head to head with this monster. He'd been helpless then, hopelessly outmatched, unarmed for all intents and purposes. Now, his cautious movements were full of determination. Today would be the day he ended this. Today, he would secure Mary's future. Today, he would avenge Allison's death.

Room after empty room left him frustrated. He relaxed his posture with a groan, letting the colt fall to his side. The sound that triggered their hunt must have been nothing more than the old house settling.

A short cry and the sounds of a scuffle shattered Dean's disappointment. Adrenaline flooded him as he dashed toward the noise, colt high and at the ready. He burst into a bedroom to find Alice and a man he didn't recognize wrestling on the floor. Dean took aim, but stopped short of firing as the pair rolled, the chaos of their struggle making it impossible for him to line up a good shot.

"Alice! Move!" Dean barked.

She and the shifter looked up at the same time, realization crossing their features at the same time. Alice tried to push away from her nemesis, but he moved faster than she could, slamming her head into the floor hard enough to daze her for a few seconds. It was all the time he needed to stand, hauling her up with him and positioning her in front of him with a silver blade at her throat and a twisted savagely in her hair. A shield.

Dean cursed as he realized he'd tipped his hand.

"Now that..." the shifter panted, nodding toward the colt in Dean's hand, "... I haven't seen in ages. Where did you dig that up from?"

"Got it on loan from some friends."

"Dean!" Alice hissed. Her hand flew up, struggling to pull the knife away from her neck. The stronger shifter snarled and all but ignored her scrabbling efforts. "Stop talking and shoot the bastard!"

"I don't have a shot!" Dean yelled. He started to take a step to the side, but the alpha cut him off, breaking the delicate skin above Alice's pulse in warning, still unfazed by her best efforts to free herself from his grasp.

"One more step and I gut the bitch!" the alpha snarled.

"Boy, did you ever pick the wrong play, asshole!" Alice all but laughed.

"Alice, shut up, I'm not shooting you!" Dean groaned, misinterpreting her meaning.

"I don't expect you too."

Dean was puzzled for a few seconds while Alice's expression changed. She swirled something around her mouth, spitting out a gob of bloody, slimy flesh.

"What the-"

Alice interrupted Dean by ditching her host, manifesting to the right of the alpha.

"Hey, buddy," she laughed, throwing a punch that connected solidly with the side of his head. In his arms, Sandy shrieked, the silver blade flashing before her eyes as her alpha flailed, struggling to figure out what was going on. He released his daughter, who fell to the floor and started frantically crawling away. The alpha turned to Alice, realization overtaking his expression as what was happening began to register with him.

Dean took his shot and the alpha doubled over, clutching its stomach as Dean advanced. Alice took her place behind the shifter, turning the tables by aiming a savage kick at the backs of its knees. It fell to the floor and she seized a handful of its hair, pulling it up to face Dean as he took aim one last time.

"This is for Allison, you son of a bitch," he sneered.

The final gunshot was deafening in the confined space, drowning out Sandy's shrieks. She scrambled to her feet, clutching her nicked neck as she made a run for it. Alice released the alpha, letting his body fall to the floor with a heavy thump as outside, neighbors clamored and called out, trying to find the source of the shots. Dean holstered the colt with a look of satisfaction that Alice knew well.

"So, you wanna tell me again how you don't enjoy killing these evil bastards?" she said.

"Only in the healthiest way," Dean admitted with a little shrug.

"Psychopath."

"You gonna get your host, or what?"

"Sure. Meet you at the car?"

"Yeah, we gotta beat it before the cops swarm this place."

Alice caught up to Sandy just outside the back door. The shallow slice on the shifters neck had already stopped bleeding. She and Dean fled the scene, evading the descending authorities by the skin of their teeth. The suspense of uncertain escape only served to escalate the adrenaline fueled high of victory. As they flew through the alley, sirens blared up ahead. Dean grabbed Alice and pulled her with him as he flattened himself against the fence line. Police cars raced past the mouth of the alley, bathing them in red and blue lights and assaulting their ears with shrill wailing that quickly faded.

"Good call," Alice commended him. They sprinted again and almost made it back to the impala before another wave of cars flew past, too close for comfort this time. Alice knew from experience they wouldn't all take the same route, and their alley was just wide enough to attract cars looking for perps. She seized Dean by his jacket and pulled him aside a second before a cruiser split off from the pack. She put her back to the fence and pulled him flush against her as the car made its way toward them, slow on the confined side street.

"Play it off," she muttered, breathless from their mad dash. "Act natural."

Dean caught her off guard by crushing his lips against hers as the car rolled past. The move took her so by surprise that she almost had a hard time following her own directions. Still, she managed to regain her wits and thrust her blood-covered hands under his jacket, hiding them from view of the police. They both struggled to breathe through the kiss as their hearts pounded in chaotic tandem, so hard each could feel the others through their ribs. The police car disappeared through the back of the alley and they broke apart, ensuring the coast was clear before they closed the distance to the impala.

"That was natural?" Alice asked with an amused smirk as they jumped into the car. Dean shrugged, unable to stop himself from grinning as the relief of safety washed over him. It was a struggle to drive slowly as they headed back.

"Your fault. You know another way to act natural in an alley with a woman pinned between you and the fence?" he demanded.

Alice put her hands up in surrender.

"You're right. My bad. Guess we both have questionable instincts."

Silence fell between them as they made their way back to the motel. They were both too busy catching their breath, calming their pounding hearts for conversation.

"Time to pack up and blow out of town," Dean announced as they parked. They were both giddy, electrified from the thrill of battle and the rush of their quick, roaring success of an escape.

"I'm a step ahead of you. Everything's bagged."

"Grab it and run?"

"Sure. You get the stuff, I'll wipe for prints."

"You're just as paranoid as ever," Dean scoffed. "Do you even have fingerprints anymore? Couldn't you just... I don't know, shift them off?"

"Wow. Mind, blown. I never thought of that. I'm totally doing it."

"I can't even tell if you're making fun of me anymore," Dean growled as they rushed into the room.

"I swear I'm not! It's a great idea!" Alice laughed. They bumped into each other hard, Dean on the way to the bed to grab the bags, Alice on her way to the nightstand to start wiping. They both stumbled, Dean grabbing Alice's arms as much to steady himself as to steady her. She got ahold of his shirt, righting herself just in time to avoid falling.

"Sorry, I-"

"My bad, I just-"

"We need to-"

"Yeah."

"Uh-huh."

"Take a breath, calm down a little," Dean suggested.

"Yeah, I'm shaking."

Alice held her hands up for him to see.

"It's been years since I finished up a hunt," Dean confessed. "I forgot how good it feels."

"It's a hell of a rush."

"You can say that again."

"You're still as good as ever," Alice assured him. "Impressive, you know? There aren't a lot of hunters can get out of the game for seven years and jump back in like they never left."

"Yeah, well, it helps to have a good partner filling in the gaps," Dean said humbly.

"We always did make a good team."

He realized he was still holding her arms and let them go. Alice cleared her throat and straightened his shirt and jacket, crumpled and crooked from her grabbing them.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Shame it's just a one-time thing."

"Yeah."

Dean's clothes were perfectly straight, but Alice's hands lingered on his chest. His heartbeat was steady under her palms, still faster than normal despite the fact that it should have settled into a regular rhythm by now. Her heart was still pounding too, even as the adrenaline drained from her system. The buzz of triumph still vibrated just under the surface of her skin, culminating in a light high that left her floating. She met Dean's gaze and saw all the same emotions she felt shining through his bright green eyes, shared between them. He didn't look at her like he had a few days ago. She looked for the grudge he'd harbored, the reservations, the mistrust, but she couldn't find them. Something fluttered at the bottom of her stomach, sending an electric tingle coursing through her veins that was distinct from the thrill of adrenaline.

Her hands crept up of their own accord, sliding around to the back of his neck as she stepped closer and pulled him down. She leaned in close enough to hear his breathing as it became shallow, close enough to feel his light exhalations against her lips. She stopped herself with colossal effort, biting her lip and closing her eyes as her heartbeat boomed in her ears and her blood burned.

"Sorry," she murmured, just loud enough for Dean to hear. Her hand slid off his neck and she patted his shoulder lightly. "Sorry, force of habit."

"Old habits die hard," Dean agreed quietly. She waited for him to pull away, unable to bring herself to do it. Being this close to him was intoxicating, addictive.

Dean hesitated. Self-control had never been Alice's strong suit. She displayed more restraint in the last five seconds than in the entirety of the time he'd known her. Dean reminded himself how bad he'd gotten hurt the last time they went down this road. He reminded himself of Alice's betrayal, reminded himself how dangerous she was, trying to dissuade himself from leaning down and kissing her again. He reminded himself that as tempting as it was, as bad as he wanted her, the high wasn't worth the pain.

The reminders proved unhelpful. The Alice that stabbed him in the back nearly a decade ago was all but gone, replaced with someone older, humbler, if no less jaded. Experience had tempered her wild nature just enough to make her dependable, cooled her hot temper just enough to make her rational. She was still as dangerous as ever, but danger drew Dean like a moth to a flame. Alice was still everything he wanted, still everything that made him fall for her the first time around, only this time, she had a working conscience that stopped her from taking things too far.

Like now. Alice knew seduction was a step too far in a partnership they'd agreed would be strictly business. Kill the alpha shapeshifter, part ways. That was the deal. Of course, that was before Dean got to know the new Alice.

Dean didn't want to get burned by her again. He didn't want to take another chance on Alice Smith. He didn't want to risk letting her under his skin just so she could betray him again, but she was tantalizing, dangling in front of him like bait on a hook. Her lips were so close to his, cold hands managing to sear his skin through his shirt. Dean's breath trembled as he leaned down slowly, skittishly. Alice was still a wild card, but kissing her felt like coming home.

Dean's lips against hers shocked her into inaction for a second, but she recovered quickly. She moaned into his mouth as they moved together. This was an old dance, but the steps were familiar. They came back like a nostalgic melody, smooth as an old favorite, every move wired deep in muscle memory. Dean's breath hitched as he pulled her closer, tasting cigarettes, strong black coffee, and a hint of her fruity gum. Dean hated cigarettes, hated kissing women who smoked, but found that, strangely, it wasn't a bad taste on Alice. She'd always tasted bitter and the bite of tar that lingered behind her teeth seemed fitting, if no less unpleasant.

"Dean!"

His fingers laced through her hair even as he let her pull back to meet his eyes.

"This is my fault," she said apologetically. "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't ruin the moment," Dean begged.

"You know you don't want to do this," Alice sighed. Her eyes dropped to her feet.

"You know, I really think I do."

"I don't want to do this."

Dean's brow knit with confusion and dismay.

"What-"

"If you're walking away tomorrow, I can't do this with you," she clarified. "It's one thing to say good-bye after a hunt, but if we... if I..."

"So I don't walk away."

"Dean, I..."

She pushed away, disentangling herself rom his grasp and turning her back to him, arms crossed over her chest.

"I can't lose you again, ok? Last time we did this, it ended so-"

"That was a long time ago."

"It's not gonna work out."

"It could."

"It won't."

Alice chuckled to hide the fact that he was starting to annoy her. Dean was intentionally ignoring the reality of the situation. He was thinking with his heart and his downstairs brain.

"Fact is, you have to go home to that little girl of yours. I'm not gonna stop hunting so I can play house with you. Our lives... Dean, we're in two different worlds now. Neither one of us is going to change."

"I don't need you to play house with me," Dean growled. He pulled her shoulder, spinning her around to face him again. "We could make it work. Just because it's two different worlds doesn't mean we can't meet in the middle. If we want. If you want."

Alice couldn't deny that it was a tempting prospect. She missed Dean. She'd spent the last seven years missing him. The thought of having him back, of things going back to the way they'd been before...

"Dean, it's a bad idea."

Dean had a hard time swallowing the reality that Alice was the one trying to talk him down from a bad idea. Despite the gravity of the discussion, it was ironic enough to make him chuckle a little.

"Look at you, being all reasonable. This takes the cake."

"Don't get nasty because you know I'm right."

Dean knew she was afraid of the same thing he was.

"I won't hurt you."

"What are you, some kind of idiot?" Alice laughed.

"I'm serious, Alice! I promise!"

"Never promise someone you're not going to hurt them," Alice scolded him, giving him a playful little push. "Life is too messy to keep a promise like that."

"Well what can I promise?"

"Dean-"

"No, seriously Alice, what? What do you want?! Don't forget, you started this!"

Dean's voice rose along with his anger.

"It was a mistake!" Alice snapped, tone turning sharp as one of her treasured knives. "Or don't you remember? All I do is make mistakes!"

There it was. At long last, Dean glimpsed a mad little light, a manic fire that sparked behind Alice's mismatched hazel eyes. It was the light her eyes used to have all the time, the one he'd been watching for while they worked together. This was the old Alice. Her anger broke through her carefully cultivated facade of discipline as she shouted at him. Her loss of control excited him, like gasoline poured on the quietly smoldering embers of his dormant desire. He craved the fire he saw in her eyes, longed to drink it down and let it consume him. Let her consume him.

"Get out while you can, Winchester! 'Cause the mistakes only get worse from here on out, and I can't handle you judging me because I can't-"

Dean couldn't stop himself. He grabbed her roughly, one hand on her waist pulling her against him while the other clutched the back of her neck, fingers digging into her hair as he kissed her. Secretly, shamefully, Dean loved that he could still break her open after all these years. Alice was like him, a hard exterior that hid deep wounds that never stopped bleeding, never fully healed. She was still angry and he felt it in her response to his aggressive, desperate display of long repressed passion. Even as she kissed him back, all tongue and teeth and hissing, half-voiced curses, she pushed his chest, trying to shove him away.

"Dean, I SWEAR if you-"

"Shut up!"

"Dean, we-"

"Alice, shut up!"

Dean was half-begging, tired of hearing her reasons. Alice was still fighting, still aware of what a bad idea this was, how much it would hurt if it went sideways, how wrecked she would be in the wake of another disappointment at Dean's hands. She couldn't take any more heartbreak, but in the moment it was all but impossible to think of anything but how much she wanted him. His lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his quick, excited breaths blending with hers and blurring the line between them. She could feel that he wanted her just as badly and it was driving her crazy. When Dean left her all those years ago, he left a hole in her heart in the shape of his. Now, he slid back into place like he'd never left.

"Oh, fuck... fuck it."

Alice gave in, helpless to her own hedonism and Dean's persistent passion. She embraced his fire and melted in his arms. They fell apart together.

Chapter Text

Cairo presented itself to the tourists and passing riff-raff as a shiny metropolis, the sky scrapers framed against the horizon singing the praises of western influence and capital. Sam was taking his visit to the city off the beaten track of attractions and shops strategically placed to lure in foreigners and the money that came with them. He walked apprehensively down a street paved in beaten, chipped stones that could have been centuries old, lined with an eccentric mix of small houses. The people who came and went weren't as diverse here as in the busier, more modern areas of the city. A woman dressed from head to toe in pitch black followed his movement with eyes that peeked out past full niqab. Her eyes never met Sam's, but her scrutiny was intense and he found himself overcome by the desire to look away.

He directed his gaze to the scrap of paper in his hand and the address scrawled there. He could still feel eyes on his every move, but he did his best to shake off the shivers they sent crawling up and down his spine. He distracted himself by going over a recent memory one more time, taking one more shot at making sense of Castiel's mysterious call.

Not three days ago Sam was woken by his ringtone. He sat up with a groan from his reclined drivers seat, fished blindly through the mess on the passenger side until his fingers wrapped around his phone. It vibrated urgently, egging him to answer it faster.

"Hello?" he managed, voice deep and groggy, filled with the vestiges of sleep.

"Sam. It's time to stop fooling around."

Castiel's voice was the last Sam expected to hear. He tried to remember the last time he'd gotten a call from his brother's protector, only to realize that it had been never. Cas always conducted his business in person.

"Only for him, I hope."

The second voice was faint, off to the side of the call, but distinctly feminine and saturated with flirtatious intent. Sam's sleepy eyebrows shot up with intrigue while he rubbed his eyes and adjusted his chair.

"You're taking too long."

"Too long with...?"

"The task I set you to!"

"You mean... finding the keys?"

"Oh, smart boy figured it out after all," the woman purred in the background.

"Good, you know what they are. I assume you know as well that they are highly dangerous," Castiel continued, ignoring his female companion.

"I do. I gotta say, finding out wasn't a cakewalk. Have you... Did you know what they were this whole time?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"I did."

"What?! And you just let me chase my tail all these months working off your vague little tip? What the hell is wrong with you, Cas?" Sam demanded, anger and indignation waking him up the rest of the way as they surged through him.

"I had my reasons. I was... working around a promise I made to someone."

"What the-"

"Sam, there is no time for your quibbling today," Castiel cut him off severely. "Listen. Focus. Quibb... quibble... what an interesting word. Is it even a real word? Meg?"

"Beats me, Clarence. Just get this over with, it's my turn with the frosting."

"What... Cas, are you... have you been drinking?" Sam frowned, catching a hint of a slur in the angels unusual words.

"My actions are not of import. Sam, listen to me very, very carefully. You're not the only one after the keys. You need to get to them before she does."

"Wait, you know she's in on it?" the woman demanded. "How? Were you snooping on me?"

"Honestly, I just assumed your partner was a woman."

"Castiel, who else is after the keys?" Sam demanded, struggling to keep the conversation on track now that he realized its true gravity.

"It doesn't matter. Sam, write this down. I know where they are. I'm going to tell you. Are you ready?"

"Ooh, you're such a bad friend," the mystery woman giggled. "Don't you care that you promised me?"

"No, Meg, I do not care. I'm a bad, bad friend who has no regard for your feelings on the matter and my word means absolutely nothing."

"Oh, stop it! You're getting me all excited again, you dirty bastard."

"Yes. I am indeed an unwashed, fatherless-"

"Um, Cas?" Sam asked, cringing at the odd exchange and its strange sexual overtones. "Cas? Focus? Back on track? Please?"

"Of course. Are you ready for the address, Sam?"

"I'm ready."

"He's not as ready as I am," the woman giggled.

Castiel gave up the address while Sam scribbled furiously on the back of a takeout bag.

"Is this... is this an overseas address?" he asked, puzzled by the strange format.

"Use the google, Sam," Castiel directed him. "I have been a bad, bad boy and broken my promise."

"Someone needs to punish you for that," the woman rasped suggestively.

"I am not the only one in need of correction, you filthy whore of Babylon."

"Oooh, stop that!"

"Now, I must end this call. I have more... pressing matters, on my hands. Good-bye, Sam."

Despite the fact that he was still lacking a lot of prescient information, Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the call ended.

"What. The. Fresh. Hell," he groaned. "Did I just listen in on?"

Back in the present, Sam wrinkled his nose and rolled his shoulders.

"Blegh!"

He put the incident from his mind again, convinced there was no more insight to be gleaned from revisiting it. Only trauma at the idea of frigid, trench-coated Castiel getting freaky with some random, kinky woman who was, apparently, super into dishonest dudes.

Sam followed the GPS on his phone to a small shop at the edge of the residential district. The building was squat and windowless with a thick wooden door and a single, colorful sign above the threshold announcing the name of the store in arabic that Sam couldn't read. For all the bright colors and stylized letters, the sign wasn't the thing that most effectively grabbed Sam's attention. The wooden door stood ajar, rocking slightly from side to side, pushed by a light, dry desert breeze that kicked up small, swirling pools of dust as it whistled past.

Sam glanced up and down the empty street one more time as he prepared to enter the shop. Apprehension filled him as he reached into his jacket, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the knife that was the only weapon he'd managed to secure upon his arrival in Egypt. Next to it was a flask of holy water. Sam was as prepared as circumstance allowed him to be, but he felt practically naked as he steeled his nerves, took a final breath and forged ahead into the unknown.

The inside of the shop was calm, dimly lit. Rolled and folded fabrics sat on display on shelves arranged throughout. The walls were draped with colorful tapestries, each bearing its own price tag.

"Uh... hello?" Sam called, advancing slowly. A few steps in, it became clear that something was wrong. Shelves were toppled, colorful fabric rolls unraveled on the tile floor. There had been a struggle here. Sam wondered if it had been a mistake to call out.

He pushed forward silently, looking for blood of any clues as to what had happened in the shop. The air back here was filled with the pungent scent of bleach, which almost completely masked another, subtler stench.

Sam drew his knife as he recognized the distinct odor of sulfur, still lingering in the air in the aftermath of demonic presence.

"You're late to the fight."

Sam whipped around, blade and guard up. All he found was a woman in black from head to toe, face covered by a veil. Bright, almost luminous blue eyes sized him up, but every other inch of her was completely hidden. Sam wondered if this was the same woman who'd passed him in the street, but it was impossible to say.

"The demon came this morning," the woman went on. Her english was perfect, but heavily accented. "She took what she wanted and left."

"I'm after the demon," Sam said. It was a half-truth, but until he knew more about this woman, he sure as hell wasn't going to explain himself to her. "How do you know what it was? Are... are you a hunter too?"

"I'm well acquainted with your world. And your kind."

Sam could tell from her tone that she had no great love of hunters.

"I'm here to help," Sam said, tucking his knife away in a gesture of good faith. Her eyes followed his movements closely, expression hidden behind thick black cloth. Even her posture was impossible to read, well cloaked by the billowing burka she wore. It was a long, tense moment before she finally spoke again.

"What dire day has come that I now accept help from Sam Winchester?" she sighed. "Such are the times. Desperate indeed."

"You... you know my name?"

"I know a lot more about you than your name."

"How?"

"For a year now you've sought an artifact possessed and protected by my family. We were watching you from the minute you started asking questions about Apep's Arrogance."

"You mean the keys."

"Whatever you think you know, you would be wise to forget," the woman informed him. "Calling it a key is... reckless. At best. Its not a tool to use as you see fit. It is damnation incarnate, temptation for the foolhardy and the well-meaning."

"I was told it could-"

The woman groaned loudly and threw her hands up in the air.

"He hears nothing I tell him," she exclaimed, stomping her way past Sam toward a doorway draped in beaded strands. Sam heard her muttering in a language he didn't understand, anger underpinning the harsh, fluid words.

"Alsayaaduwn aladhin yaetaqidun 'anahum yaerifun kula shay' satakun nihayatina!"

He followed her, poking his head cautiously through the thin curtain of beads into a room even darker than the one he'd come from. A single candle cast its light weakly from a low tabletop where the woman was seated. Sam's eyes adjusted as he stepped into the room, allowing him to make out a cot in the corner and the figure of a man slumped there, motionless.

"Is... is he alive?" Sam asked, taking a step forward.

"Stop! Don't touch him!" the woman snapped.

"I just want to help," Sam assured her.

"You can't help him," she sighed, words torn with quiet, resigned despair. "His fate is out of our hands now. Allah hu akbar."

Sam recognized the phrase from another life.

"You're Muslim," he observed, taking another step closer to the man on the cot. "I, uh... I had a friend once. In college. He was too."

"Stay back!" the woman hissed, rising and putting herself between Sam and the man on the cot. Behind her, he moaned and rolled, revealing his face to Sam. Intricate blue tattoos stood out, luminescent even in the dimly lit room. The woman quickly bent down, pulling a thin blanket over the man's face even as he groaned lightly in unconscious protest, but Sam had seen all he needed.

"A Djinn!" Sam exclaimed. The woman's bright eyes shot daggers at him, eyebrows furrowed angrily as she shooed him back to no avail.

"He's already dying! We've already lost everything! Just leave us alone!"

She put her hands on his chest, trying and failing to push him out of the room. One of her sleeves slipped ever so slightly up her wrist, just enough to show Sam the end of a flowing black design that cascaded gracefully down her arm.

"You're one too," Sam said, something close to awe creeping into his voice as his mind reeled and he struggled to grasp what he had walked into.

"Just leave us be!"

She pushed him with every ounce of strength she could muster, bracing against the floor and grunting as she struggled to make Sam move.

"Go! Go! Allaenat ealayki!"

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" Sam said, coming to his senses enough to give a little ground. She wasn't nearly strong enough to push him out, but he needed her to calm down. "It's ok! I won't hurt you, ok? Hey! I promise!"

She panted and let him go, collapsing into the chair with her head in her hands.

"I want to help you!" Sam told her from the doorway, giving her space to breathe. "I want to find the demon that took the keys, or... or whatever it is you had. I just... I can't help unless you tell me how."

He gave her a moment. She shook, breath coming hard as she rubbed her temples through the thick black of her niqab. Finally, she stopped and looked up again.

"Even though you know what I am? You still think you want to help me?" she asked, sharp cynicism cutting through her bereaved tone like daggers.

"It's my job to help people," Sam said. "All kinds of people."

"Is it? Or do you just need me to tell you where the demon took the artifact you seek?"

Sam sighed and took a cautious step closer. When she didn't react, he closed the distance between them, crouching down to put himself below her eyeline.

"You said to forget everything I thought I knew about it. Done. From now on, I assume nothing, ok? I want you to tell me everything I need to know."

"And you'll take my word for it?"

"I will."

"Why? What worth does a monster's word have to a hunter?" the woman challenged.

Sam took a moment to respond, choosing his words with the utmost care.

"I've seen a lot of monsters in my day," he finally said. "They don't talk to you. They just attack. You... I don't feel like you're a monster. I feel like you're... just doing the best you can."

She gave a small, dry laugh.

"I'm not a fighter," she informed him. "Don't mistake a lack of skill or strength for a lack of fire."

She sighed heavily and adjusted her veil, covering her eyebrows. She gestured to the second chair.

"Sit, Mr. Winchester. I can't make you leave, so we may as well talk."

Sam took the seat, wondering if he was making a mistake. Was her vulnerable appearance a facade? Maybe she was stalling, waiting for more Djinn to arrive. She couldn't kill him, but she could be waiting for the cavalry to come do it for her.

Deep seated instinct made that hard for Sam to believe. This woman held herself with the demeanor of someone who wanted help. She was crying out for it with every other word, desperation defeating pride and forcing her to accept that Sam was as good as his word. Her obvious disdain of him was no match for the fact that whatever her goals, she couldn't accomplish them on her own.

"First things first," Sam said. "Do you have a name?"

"Fatima."

"Well. It's nice to meet you, Fatima. Why don't you start at the beginning?" he urged her gently.

"The beginning is a little far back for our purposes," Fatima sighed. "Instead, I will tell you what happened yesterday."

"Fine then. Yesterday."

Dean and Alice lay tangled in the sheets together, breathless in the aftermath of their passion. Dean had never known Alice to be a cuddler, but there was something especially harsh about the way she turned away from him to sit up at the edge of the bed, already reaching for her clothes.

"That was sloppy. There's DNA all over this bed," she said, annoyance and superiority dominating her tone. Dean rolled his eyes at her back as she went on. "We're gonna have to-"

"I'll bag the sheets, Dexter," Dean chuckled, leaning up to play with her hair as she slipped into her underwear. "We'll take them with us, you can soak them in peroxide or burn them, or whatever psycho routine makes you happiest, ok?"

"That's not the point. We shouldn't have done that," Alice scowled, flipping her hair over her shoulder and out of his reach as she pulled her shirt on. Dean knew she wasn't talking about leaving behind evidence anymore. He sat up and scooted closer to her as she worked to get her shoes on.

"Hey."

He took advantage of the fact that her hair was pulled aside, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to lay a line of kisses on her exposed neck. She kept lacing her shoes, outwardly unaffected by the amorous attentions.

"I meant what I said, ok?" he assured her softly. She tried to stand, but he held her tighter with one arm. His other moved, his fingers nudging her chin until she was forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes were hard, almost glassy, but she couldn't hide the fear behind them. Not from Dean.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated.

"Dean-"

"Uh-uh."

He pressed his lips to hers. It was by far his favorite way to shut her up. This time, she wasn't having it. She growled and threw all her weight back, sending him crashing onto the mattress hard enough to knock the wind out of him. She tried to get up again, but he pulled her back down, wrestling his way atop her and pinning her hands alongside her head. She offered little resistance, torn between pragmatism and desire. She wanted to buy what he was trying to sell, but couldn't bring herself to make the purchase.

"I promise," he said solemnly.

"I don't accept that promise," Alice sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "I don't want a promise you can't keep."

"I can keep it!"

"You can't!"

"Alice-"

It was her turn to silence him with a kiss. He felt her laughing beneath him, but didn't get what was funny.

"Did I miss a joke?" he grumbled.

"If we were, ah... really fighting," Alice informed him playfully, "I'd have already kneed you in nuts, headbutted you and flipped us. You'd be super dead."

In demonstration, she brought her knee up softly, just missing the aforementioned jewels, tapped her forehead against his and rolled. He went along with a grunt, letting her reverse their positions.

"Good thing we're not really fighting," he pointed out. "'Cause I think we both know I'd never give you those openings if we were."

"Yeah, you are pretty good," she conceded with a smile. Dean knew she was deflecting and he wasn't having it.

"Come on, Alice. You know you miss this. I miss this. I miss-"

"Shh."

She settled comfortably onto his hips and put a finger to his lips. Dean had more to say, but he bit his tongue and waited. Alice thought her next words through very carefully.

"You're not wrong," she admitted. "I... I do miss... this."

She missed him, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. The best part was that she knew Dean understood perfectly. He understood what she wanted to say, understood why she wouldn't say it. He wouldn't hold it against her.

"But Dean, we're both... we're just so... we're bad together. We both know it."

"Alice-"

"Dean, shh!"

She covered his mouth with her hand.

"Please let me finish. Please?"

He nodded silently but she didn't move her hand. She bit her lip, breath coming harder as she leaned down, running her fingers against the grain of his hair, unable to help herself.

"I do want this again," she confessed at his ear, eyes sliding shut as she felt his breath hitch against her fingers. "I want you back, Dean. I want us back. I want to be bad together again, because it's better than being bad alone. But you need to understand that... this bullshit line you keep pulling out about how you won't hurt me... it's childish."

Dean frowned. He disagreed, but her palm pressed firm against his lips, forcing him to hold his silence. She sat up again, locking eyes with him.

"If we do this again, I can't promise I won't hurt you," she told him earnestly. "I can't promise it'll work out, I can't promise it'll end well. But... I can promise that I'll never lie to you. I can promise that this time around, I'll always have your back. And I can promise that I won't make stupid fucking promises I can't keep. Ok?"

She took her hand off his mouth and waited for his answer. Her heart pounded, her breath tried to stutter, but she forced it back into a steady rhythm. Why be nervous? He made the first move, after all. The thought did little to comfort her. Confident as she should have been, she had been burned by him before. She felt like the world stood still while he pursed his lips and considered the three vows she offered him.

"Sounds like a good deal," he finally said with a smile that was just a touch too seductive. She rolled her eyes at him as he sat up, assaulting her with a wave of kisses that, though far from unwanted, wasn't very well timed.

"Dean... you... blockhead," she managed between kisses. He was doing his damnedest to get her naked again and she was dodging his attempts.

"Mm?"

He hummed against her neck, fingers creeping under her shirt even as she squirmed and pushed him back.

"I want the same from promises from you!"

"I thought that went without saying."

Alice let it go, wriggling out of his grasp and rolling onto the floor. She grabbed his pants and tossed them at his head. He dodged the pants, but she got him with the shirt in the next second, jamming it haphazardly over his head.

"Get dressed," she chided, chucking shoes, socks and a belt his way while she gathered up their few bags. "We gotta get the hell out of dodge in case someone saw us fleeing the scene."

"No one saw us," Dean protested while he pulled the rest of his clothes on. Still, he knew she was right. Better safe than sorry.

Dean wasn't kidding about bagging the sheets and when he met her at the car, he tossed the bundle into the backseat. Alice shook her head at his lack of discretion.

"What?" he asked. "Come on, people take sheets and pillows and towels from these places all the time. They don't care. They work it into the budget and everything."

"Dean, I couldn't get all our DNA out of the room if I burned it to the ground," Alice snorted. Still, she knew he was trying to make her feel better by stealing the sheets and she appreciated the thought. "Don't worry about it. I'm not in any databases. As for you... well, let's just hope the FBI doesn't know where you've been living."

"Not a chance."

"Hey, what name have you been living under all this time?" Alice wondered for the first time.

"Uh... you'll get a kick out of this one. Sam's, actually."

"Hah! You're right, that is a kick in the pants."

"So, what are your plans now that it's over?" Dean pressed, keeping his tone carefully light in an attempt to sound casual. "Now that the alpha is dead?"

"I'm heading back to the house where they were keeping me," Alice said. "See if I find anything that points to there being more shifters still out there."

"Uh-huh."

"What about you? You're gonna grab Mary back from Bobby and then, what... just go home?"

"I guess. I have to... crap, I forgot about the cat!" Dean realized. He wanted to slap himself as he remembered that Shimmer existed for the first time in weeks.

"Cat? You have a cat?"

"Mary has a cat. Smug little orange bastard. I hope he didn't run away while we were gone. That's just what I need, on top of everything else."

"I hate to sound callous, but couldn't you just get her another cat?" Alice asked with raised eyebrows.

"I mean, I would, but it would still be rough."

Dean bit his lip and clicked his teeth together as he tried to picture the new life he and Mary would need to start.

"Nothing's ever going to be the same again," he sighed. "It's just gonna be me and her from now on."

"You'll be fine," Alice assured him. "Change always comes, like it or not, sooner or later. All we can do is keep pushing forward."

"Story of my life," Dean grumbled. "I just wish... I mean, all I wanted for Mary was... a little stability, I guess. I know I can't protect her from change, but I just... I really wanted her to have a normal childhood. At least for a little while. Now that Allison's gone, that's just..."

"She still has you," Alice pointed out. "If it's stability you want for her, you need to be that. You know?"

Her words did little to comfort Dean. She couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know. Still, he appreciated her trying. He smiled for her sake.

"Yeah," he said simply.