—If you're planning on going to college, where would you want to go? And if you don't plan on going, what would you like to do after school? And if you're already done with school, where are you attending or where are you working? I would love to go to either USC or ASU

—What are your three favorite Supernatural episodes? I absolutely love 'Tall Tales' Season 2 episode 15, 'Dark Side of Heaven' Season 5 episode 16, and 'Changing Channels' season 5 episode 8

—Where are you currently reading this at? Well, I'm currently writing this in my room in the dark

—All right, guys. The time is almost here. We have 8 chapters left until this book is officially over. I'm gonna be doing a chapter dedicated to answering questions about the book (or any other questions you guys wanna know, they could be about literally anything) and talk about the next book and give an extended summary. So if you wanna leave some questions, please leave them here. You can ask as many questions as you want, and they can be as serious, weird, freaky as you want. Thank you and love you guys! 

"So, Carl Gulley—" Sam began, and Odessa grumbled as she munched a bundle of crisp fries, scowling as he gave a bemused look. She rolled her eyes, biting into the remainder of her fry, and sighed heavily. There wasn't one minute in the day where they weren't speaking of supernatural creatures and mysterious murders. She despised that she couldn't have normal conversations anymore, or something relatively normal, it was always something with gory crimes or women who murdered because an angel demanded them to. "All right, Mrs. Sunshine, what's up with you?" 

Her eyebrows raised as she continued devouring her fries. There wasn't anything wrong, nothing worth significance, and she didn't think this was worth mentioning. She frowned, half-shrugging as she faced towards the window. "Nothing." Was all she muttered, and she didn't need to see Sam to know he didn't believe her for one second. Sam yanked the container consisted with her fries away from her fingers, and she yelled a 'hey' in response. "It's not even a big deal, you douche. It's just that all we do is talk about hunts and possible leads. Let's talk about something that doesn't include stabbings and the existence of angels." 

Snatching her fries back and glowering his way, she planted her legs on the dashboard and crossed her ankles. Sam, with his eyes remaining on the road, formed an 'o' formation with his mouth. "All right, fair enough," He said, "We'll talk about anything?" He asked, clarifying her words. She nodded, and sipped through the straw of the soda she also purchased. "Fine, let's talk about the fact that you admitted you had feelings for Dean and didn't tell me." 

Odessa's eyes widened as she choked on the beverage and lurched forward, attempting to regain her composure. "When the hell did I do that," She questioned, voice strained. "I think I would've remembered telling him I liked him. And assuming I did do this, of course I would've told you immediately." She tried thinking back on any possible situations where she could've potentially confessed her feelings, but nothing rose. 

Sam's brows knitted in a frown. "You really don't remember, do you?" Odessa made a face that screamed 'obviously'. He sighed heavily, turning the wheel of the Impala. "Wow, you must've really been wasted, then. That night we were drinking at that inn back in Connecticut, you were drunk out-of-your-mind, and apparently you told Dean how you felt. I thought you remembered and kept it from me." Blurred memories flashed as she realized Dean was aware of her feelings now. Her eyes widened, shallow. She clasped her hands over her head and groaned vehemently. Sam chuckled beside her, and she swiftly slapped his shoulder, eyes burning with disapproval. 

"This isn't funny," Odessa sneered through gritted teeth. At this point, she no longer cared for her now-cold french fries or lukewarm beverage. "Oh, god, I'm such an idiot. I've ruined everything." Sam turned around a corner and drove into the vacant parking lot of the motel where they were staying. Her eyes enlarged once more, shaking her head desperately. "I can't go back in there." 

Sam's eyes rolled skywards. "So what are you gonna do? Ignore him for the rest of your life?" He asked rhetorically. Odessa half-shrugged, feigning contemplation. His mouth curled with icy disdain. "You're not going to avoid your problems, Essie. You're a badass, whip-wielding Guardian. I think you can handle a simple confrontation with your feelings." He pushed open the Impala's door open and stepped outside, leaving Odessa with the heart-wrenching concern formulating inside. 

She inhaled a sharp breath and closed her eyes, forging the upcoming words as she savored the temporary darkness. Sam wasn't wrong, she was a badass, but the second she was confronted with emotional baggage, she always chose to neglect the burden. She detested this side of her; the side where she was opposite of who she was because of Dean. Odessa always had men wrapped around her finger, seduced money and information from them seamlessly, and she never had any problem with breaking hearts before. Now, that's all she was worried about, and it was exhausting. Stealing one last glance in the rearview mirror, she ruffled her hair and gathered her food.   

Entering the motel room wasn't any different than before; Dean was swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and yanking his earplugs from his ears. When the door slammed, his head snapped her direction. She smiled in response, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You got any quarters," Odessa didn't have the chance to reply when Sam declared from the restroom 'don't give him any quarters'. Dean rolled his eyes. "So, did you get in to see that crazy hooker?" Dean asked, resting his forearm against the doorway. 

Odessa nodded, stuffing her hands inside her pockets. "Yeah, her name is Gloria Stinik, by the way. Not 'crazy hooker'. And Sam's sure she isn't crazy, despite her claims of being touched by an angel," Dean sent her a questioning look. "The whole blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, everything." 

Sam dried his hands. "I mean, she's living in a locked ward, and she's totally at peace." Sam said, bewildered. 

Dean frowned. "Oh, yeah, you're right—sounds completely sane. What about the dude she stabbed?"

"Uh, Carl Gulley," Sam said, "Said she killed him 'cause he was evil," Dean had cocked his head, asking him if he was. Sam shrugged. "I don't know. We couldn't find any dirt on him. He didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends, was a churchgoer." He pushed passed Dean, and he removed his arm from the doorway. 

Dean hummed. "So Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko? I mean, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?" 

Sam spoke with an edge in his tone. "No, but she's the second to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don't you think?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Odd—yeah. Supernatural—maybe. But angels—I don't think so." Odessa remained silent, having explain her thoughts and views of religion before. She was programmed to live in the world of reality, not of fables and myths. 

Sam shifted. "Why not?"

"'Cause there's no such thing, Sam." Dean replied simply.

"Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted." 

"Hey, you know, there's a ton of lore on unicorns, too. In fact, I hear they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows out of their ass." 

Odessa pouted, feigning a dismayed expression. "Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?" She asked, laughing softly as Dean glared her way.

"That's cute," He said, "I'm just saying, man, there's some legends that you just file under 'bull crap'." Dean sat down beside Sam on the bed. 

Sam scoffed once more. "And you got angels on the 'bull crap' list," Dean answered with a simple 'yep'. "Why?" 

"Because I've never seen one," said Dean. "I believe in what I can see."

Sam appeared distraught with Dean's logic and words. "Dean, the three of us have seen most people couldn't even dream about."

Dean nearly slammed his palm on the mattress. "Exactly. With our own eyes—that's hard proof, okay? But in all this time, I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. Don't you think if they exist we would have crossed paths with them or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a demon or a spirit. They find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms." Dean jerked his head, agitated, as Sam muttered a 'maybe'. "Can we just—I'm going stir-crazy, man. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?" 

Shaking her daze from his melodramatic speech, Odessa crossed her legs. "We were just there, nothing," She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, excluding the lack of hygiene. There  wasn't any sulfur, E.M.F., absolutely nothing suspicious."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "You didn't see any fluffy, white wing feathers?" 

Odessa rolled her eyes skyward, unamused with his immature antics. "Leave him alone," She demanded, "But Gloria did tell us the angel gave her a sign beside Carl's doorway. It could be worth checking out," And with one final smile, she tossed her hair back. "And never seen anything that looks like an angel? Uh, hello! Cold, hard proof right here." She said, motioning to her physique. Dean rolled his eyes, but Odessa didn't miss the vague trace of a smile.

<<>>

The investigation of Carl Gulley's home was quite eventful and productive, especially with the grim discovery of hidden remains in the cryptic foundations. The skeleton was of a woman, and Odessa sympathy of the corpse was abyssal, and they soon discovered there were three other missing people last seen at the library. These findings proved Carl Gulley was a serial killer.   

Overnight, there'd been another murder performed, and it'd been Dean's suggestion of investigating the victim's house. They'd broken into the vacant home and began examining throughout the abode. Odessa didn't find anything worth of significance, and neither had Dean, excluding the victim's excessive choices of catalog shopping. Sam was rapidly typing away on the computer, groaning aloud every now and then with frustration. "Not much here," Sam said, "Except he's got this one locked file on his computer that..." He trailed off, and continued typing once again. Once the beeping that granted access, he grinned. "Not anymore. God, he's got all these e-mails, dozens, to this lady named Jennifer." 

Odessa leaned forward, skimming over the e-mails as her eyes flashed with aversion. "She's not a lady," She sneered, capturing the attention of both brothers. "She's thirteen-years old." The mere idea of a grown man pursuing sexual or romantic endeavors with underage girls was utterly repulsive and sickening. Odessa felt her stomach churn. 

Dean replicated her expression. "Oh, I don't wanna hear this." 

Sam continued onward. "Looks like they met in a chat room. These e-mails are pretty personal, guys. Look at that," Sam said, clicking on one of the several links. "Setting up a time and place to meet. They were supposed to meet today." Odessa straightened, suddenly feeling nauseous. She evaded her gaze from the screen, unexpectedly wary of touching anything in this room. 

Dean walked around the desk. "Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing. I don't know, man. This is weird, you know. I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost a do-gooder, like a—" 

Sam bounced his leg. "Avenging angel," Dean rolled his eyes viciously and pivoted away from view. "Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys not connected to each other all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy—" Dean was unfolding some form of paper, and interrupted Sam, gathering his attention from his rambling. "What?" 

Dean was reading from an enveloped paper. "You said Carl Gulley was a churchgoer, right," Odessa replied with a simple 'yeah'. "What was the name of his church?" 

Her brows knitted into a frown. "Our Lady of the Angels, why?" 

Dean read over the header of the paper once more before flipping it over. "Of course that'd be the name. Looks like Frank went to the same church." Odessa yanked the blade from her holster, face plastered with determination to end the lives of these disgusting men. Dean pushed the blade down, chuckling nervously. "Whoa, whoa, easy there, Miss 'I'm-on-a-mission'. Let's think this through before we go in gun's blazin'."

Odessa rolled her eyes and placed her dagger back in her holster, dissatisfied.

<<>>

As Sam and Dean spoke with Father Reynolds, seeming as she didn't seem the type to accommodate with the parish, Odessa fixated her attention on the architecture of the monumental cathedral. The array of multi-colored stained-glass panels were emphasized with the mild sun rays, and the chandeliers above were constructed of golden crystals. Each step she took echoed throughout the immense room, and she disregarded the inquisitive glimpses conveyed her direction. 

Odessa didn't feel as if she belonged here. There was an indistinct sense of misconduct as she observed the murals of illustrated angels and other mythical beings. She didn't believe in these elaborate tales, though she wished she had, and being incapable of worshiping this omnipotent man while roaming his 'home' seemed wrong. She'd never been given the opportunity of believing in something that seized hope in desperate times. Her mother Moira attempted to explain the complex folklore of the Bible, regardless whether Odessa was interested in the tales or not, her father demolished the brief sense of hope within seconds. 

There was also the vivid sense of conviction as she peered down at the convoluted designs imprinted on her skin. They were ceaseless reminders of the quantity of wrongdoings and blood of the innocence she shed. Odessa wondered how that felt; to feel free and forgiven after confessing your sins, to be excused of your offenses merely with words. She also wondered if she'd ever forgive herself. Those chances didn't seem likely.

Odessa whirled around, re-directing her attention on the gentle voice of Sam. "Father, that's Michael, right?" She heard him ask. Sam was pointing to the broad mural on the other side of the room. Michael's hand were clutching a golden sword while the bottom of his foot was on top of another man's back, the blade's peak moments from penetrating with the man's back. His wings were outspread gloriously and his shawls were flowing graciously. The amount of details painted was unbelievably beautiful.

Father Reynolds pursed his lips. "That's right," He said, "The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword—the fighter of demons, holy force against evil." She'd never envisioned the angels as pristine, halo-bearing ethereal beings. From the information she did know, she was aware that angels were soldiers, not kind-souls. 

Sam questioned Father Reynolds with a faint smile. "So, they're not really the hallmark-card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant." 

Father Reynolds' expression softened. "I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful, but, yes. A lot of scripture paints angels as God's warriors," Odessa watched as Sam and Dean exchanged conspicuous glimpses. "'An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified," The three of them all swapped uncomfortable looks. "Luke 2:9." He said after a moment's pause.

Moments after Father Reynolds steered them outside the cathedral-like church, Sam began thanking him for his assistance. "Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father."  

"It's my pleasure. Hope to see you again."

As she descended down the concrete stairs, Odessa's attention was captured by the arrangements placed on a boulder. There were multi-colored glass candles and dead flowers with pictures, papers scribbled with black ink and a large cross. She halted, jutting her index finger toward formalities. "Father, what're these arrangements for?" Father Reynolds faced where she was pointing and gave her pursed smile.

"Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here," He said, "Passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt." 

Making a sudden revelation, Odessa pivoted to face him. "When did this happen?" 

"Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys," Sam expressed his condolences with a simple 'I'm sorry'. "Yeah, me too. He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. And ever since he died, I've been praying my heart out." 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "For what?"

Father Reynolds didn't hesitate to respond. "For deliverance...from the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose." 

Odessa watched as Dean feigned a grin. "Well, padre, thanks. We'll see you again," Father Reynolds shook all three of their hands and returned back inside. "Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death—that's vengeful-spirit material right there. He knew all the stiffs 'cause they went to church here. In fact, I'm willing to bet, because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew." 

She thought over Dean's links and connections, concluding this couldn't have been some 'angel' because this was Father Gregory's spirit. "Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?" Exasperated with Sam's belief of holy forces, Odessa exhaled sharply as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Dean mimicked her expression. "Oh, come on, man. What's your deal," Sam, perplexed with the question, asked what he meant by that. "Look, I'll admit, I'm a bit of a skeptic, but since when are you all Mr. '700 Club'? Seriously, from the get-go, you've been willing to buy this angel crap, man. I mean, what's next? Are you gonna start praying every day?" He returned the small photograph of Father Gregory back on the stone. 

Sam, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, answered feebly. "I do," Dean snapped his head in Sam's direction faster than Odessa could comprehend, questioning Sam with one simple word, 'what'. "I do pray every day. I have for a long time." Odessa tilted her head as she examined the younger of them three analytically. She'd never would've imagined either of the Winchesters as people who pray. She didn't think they ever considered praying, but if Sam chose to believe and have faith in something that brought hope for him, who was she to criticize him? He has the freedom to believe in whatever pleases him. With this newfound information on Sam, maybe he was willing to explain the actuality of it so she could understand.

Dean chuckled, astounded. "The things you learn about a guy, huh. Come on. Let's go check out Father Gregory's grave." Without another word, Dean ascended the stairs and entered the building once again. 

Odessa blinked owlishly as she watched Dean scurry back inside. She shook her head at his unusual behavior, more than aware of as to why he was such in a hurry to leave. She then turned to face her best friend with wary eyes. Sighing lightly, she rested her hand on his forearm, seeming as she couldn't reach his shoulder. "Look, Sam, I don't necessarily believe in all this, but if you choose to believe in this because you want to, Dean nor I can tell you if you can or can't. I think it's great that you're believing in something that gives you hope. I don't think it's an angel doing this, but if you think so, I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. So ignore Dean, and do whatever the hell you want because no one can tell you what to believe in except you."

Sam looked down at her with appreciative stare, and gave her a wholehearted smile as he pulled her into a comforting embrace. She grinned as he kissed her forehead and mumbled a 'thank you'. "Come on, let's get inside." He said as she pulled away. She gave him one last smile before nodding and entering the church again. 

It wasn't difficult searching for Dean, both Sam and Odessa found him roaming the ominous halls where there were an array of inauspicious angelic statues. As he pushed open the large, wooden doors and entered the room, she jogged to match his pace. She grabbed his hand and peered over her shoulder, making sure Sam wasn't behind her. He stopped and turned to face her. "Don't you think you were being a little hard on Sam?" She asked, eyes flickering all throughout his face. 

Dean sighed, displeased with this confrontation. His eyebrows were lowered and his eyes were squinted. "Being hard on him? It's not my fault he's praying to angels in halos with harps." Odessa gave him a stern glare as she arched an eyebrow accusingly. Dean typically wouldn't care what the hell either of them believed in. Sure he'd make some snarky and sarcastic remarks, but he wouldn't truly be bothered with it. There had to be some other reason for this sudden animosity.  "Can we not talk about this now," He pushed passed her, careful not push her shoulder, and pulled open the door. "Sam, come on. Sammy! Sammy, hey!" 

Odessa nearly sprinted out of the room, eyes widened her frantic gaze landed on Sam's unconscious figure, his head on Dean's lap. His eyes fluttered open, and he positioned himself upright on his elbows. Neither Odessa or Dean hesitated to question him if he was okay. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. I'm okay."

Odessa clutched his biceps, assisting him to his feet. "Come on, come on." Within minutes, she directed both brothers to a vacant room she saw when re-entering the church. "You saw it, didn't you?" She asked Sam, uneasy.

A ghostly grin erupted on Sam's lips as he walked further into the room. "Yeah," He said, "Yeah. Guys, I saw an angel." Odessa's eyebrows raised as Sam spread his arms wide in a disbelieved manner. She looked over at Dean, who was searching for something within his pockets, and rolled her eyes as he pulled out metal flask. He unscrewed the cap and offered the alcohol to Sam. "I don't want a drink." Dean frowned and shrugged, bringing the rim to his mouth and took several gulps. 

Dean grimaced as he swallowed the alcohol. "So, what makes you think you saw a, uh, angel?" He asked as he twisted the cap back on. 

The corners of Sam's lips curved as he spoke lightheartedly. "Just...it appeared before me, and I just—this feelings washed over me, you know? Like—like peace, like grace." Sam's demeanor had altered entirely within those ten minutes. His shoulder were no longer slumped, and he wasn't hunched over. He had a different atmosphere now, much more content. 

Dean frowned again. "Okay, ecstasy boy, maybe we'll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?" 

"Dean, I'm serious. It spoke to me. It knew who I was." 

Odessa squinted in a disbelieved manner. "Sam, I know I said I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, but you need accept the possibility this could just be a spirit," She said, ignoring Sam's narrowed eyes. "This isn't the first one capable of reading minds." 

Dean perched himself on one of the several wooden benches, the hinges squeaking under his weight. "Okay, let me guess—you were personally chosen to smite some sinner. You just gotta wait for some divine bat signal? Is that it?" 

Sam nodded. "Yeah, actually."

"Great," Dean said with a sarcastic smile. "I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did." 

"Actually, I did, Dean. And the angel told me. He hasn't done anything...yet. But he will."

Dean laughed humorlessly as he stood. "Oh, this is—I don't believe this." 

Sam looks utterly livid as he calls out Dean's name. "Dean, the angel hasn't been wrong yet. Someone's gonna do something awful, and I can stop it." 

"You're supposed to be bad, too, Sam. Maybe I should stop you right now."

Odessa stepped forward, her unrelenting stare hardening by the second. "Dean, that's enough." None of them glance her way, and none of them seem fazed by her demands. She despised when they argued, especially when she was in the room with nowhere else to go. They typically didn't listen to her when she attempted to discontinue their quarrel, and she also hated that, too. Dean didn't even glance her way, and neither had Sam. 

"You know what, Dean? I don't understand," Sam shouted, "Why can't you even consider the possibility?" 

Dean looked amused by the mere suggestion of considering the existence of angels. "What, that this is an angel?" 

"Yes," Sam replied instantaneously. "Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop. Maybe this is God's will." Dean doesn't say anything for a brief moment, and Odessa wondered if Sam struck a nerve somehow. Dean blinked thoughtfully, indignant. He turned back to the wooden benches he was perched on before. 

"Okay. All right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's—hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier," Dean remarked, "I'll tell you who else had faith like that—mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me." 

Sam, with tears dwelling in his eyes, spoke with a raspy voice. "You never told me that."

Dean half-shrugged. "What's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power. There's no God. I mean, there's just chaos and violence and random, unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to sheds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm gonna need to see hard proof. You got any," Sam didn't answer. "Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit."

<<>>

Exiting the sketchy-looking drugstore, both Sam and Odessa chortled alongside each other. Sam was carrying the necessities of performing the seance in a brown-paper bag while Odessa stuffed her hands in jacket's pockets. "Dude...all right, I'll admit, we've gone pretty ghetto with the spell work before, but this takes the cake." 

Odessa laughed once more, chest and shoulder heaving up and down. "Tell me about it," She quipped, "Who the hell uses a Spongebob place mat as a replacement for an altar cloth?" Though, as she thought about it, they didn't have much time to gather the needed supplies, they did have some decent substitutes. 

Dean frowned as he shrugged. "We'll just put it Spongebob-side-down." Odessa chuckled as she continued onward, arms grazing Dean's, and she was certain she could feel the warmth of him radiating through his layers of clothing. That was enough to drive her crazy. 

Noticing Sam's absence, Odessa stopped in her tracks, furrowing her eyebrows as she whirled around. Sam's eyes were widened with determination and fortitude as he stared off into the barren streets. "Guys, that's it." He muttered. He then pointed toward a man across the street who holding roses. "That's the sign." She didn't anything particularly distinctive about the man, despite his desperate need to trim his hair. 

Dean trailed his gaze. "Where?" 

Still pointing, Odessa refrained herself from commenting on how rude pointing was. "Right there, right behind that guy. That's him, guys. And we have to stop him." Furrowing her eyebrows as Sam began to race over to the unidentified man, she extended her arms outward and stopped him from continuing any further. He looked down at her, bewildered. "What are you doing? Let me go."

Bemused, Odessa gave him flat expression. "You're not gonna kill some guy because some bright light and shaking statue told you so." She understood Sam's choice to believe this fable of angelic beings, but she drew the line on him murdering in the name of God. 

Sam jerked his head back, baffled with her words. "I'm not gonna kill him. I'm gonna stop him." He retaliated with scrunched eyebrows. 

Odessa pursed her lips together. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what everyone says when killing in the name of the Holy Spirit," She antagonized, "So define 'stop'? 'Tackle him to the floor' kind of stop, or 'stab him in the heart with a knife' kind of stop?" 

Sam stole another glimpse towards the man, watching with beading eyes as he entered his vehicle. "Essie, please. He's gonna hurt someone. You know it. You both do." Odessa, tired of this entire case, released him and walked back to the Impala's side without another word. Dean had said something, but she didn't bother to listening in. Dean was in the driver's seat within seconds, and Sam was locked outside with an annoyed look. "Dean, unlock my door." Furrowing her eyebrows as well, she pulled at the door's handle and gave the back of Dean's head confused look.

Dean jutted his index finger towards him. "You're not killing anyone, Sam. I got this guy. You both go do the seance." As they drove off, Odessa groaned inwardly as she realized she was stuck with Sam and his thirst for vengeance for who knows how long. She was going to have to mention her confession to Dean some time soon, but she wasn't sure if now was the right time.

<<>>

Odessa clashed the match's end against the concrete, successfully igniting the flame. The remainder of the candles were enkindled, and the final candle she was lighting was charcoal-black. She chose to ignite the candles whereas Sam prepared for the seance, which consisted of flipping through the hundreds of pages in his father's journal. Once she'd given him the signal, he began reciting the Latin passage before dumping the herbs on the flame. Odessa flinched as the flame instantly became sparks. "What are you doing," A familiar voice said from behind them. "What is this?" Father Reynolds asked, baffled. 

Both Sam and Odessa exchanged horrified expressions, uncertain of what to do or say. She knew how this looked, and it definitely didn't look right. Sam swiftly shut the journal, tossing it to the side. "Father, please. We can explain." He pleaded, motioning to the candles. Odessa and Sam hurried to their feet, ready to explain their motives. "Uh...actually, maybe I can't. Um...this is a seance." 

Father Reynolds appeared offended with his explanation. "Young man, you are in a house of God." 

Odessa inched forward. "It's based early Christian rites, if that helps in any way." 

"Enough. You're both coming with me."

"Father, please, just wait a second—" Nothing else could be said from either of them because of the mesmerizing light illuminating every inch of the room. Odessa warily turned around, eyes squinting as she eyed the source of the dazzling luminosity. There was an outline of a man, and Odessa wasn't sure if this were an angel. She wasn't filled with any ecstasy or newfound hope. "No, it's not," Sam said in response to Father Reynolds's uncertainty if this were an angel. "It's just Father Gregory." As Sam spoke, Odessa didn't miss the disappointment in his voice.

The light dimmed, then diminished all together. There stood the man from the photographs outside of the church. This was indeed Father Gregory. "Thomas!" Father Reynolds exclaimed.

"I've come in answer to your prayers." The three of them inched closer to the apparition of Gregory, apprehensively examining him. "Sam, I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry." 

"Father, I'm sorry," Sam apologized sympathetically. "But you're not an angel," Father Gregory wasn't fazed, only attempted to affirm him he was. "No. You're a man. You're a spirit. And you need to rest."

"I was a man, but now I'm an angel. I was on the steps at the church. I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And, suddenly, I could see everything. Fr. Reynolds, I saw you...praying and crying here. I came to help you." 

"Help me how?" He stepped forward. "Those murders—that was because of you?" Odessa wondered how that felt. To know someone who you cared deeply for was murdering people for you. To know they believed this was for you, and this was right for the world. She wouldn't have know how to respond if she were in Father Reynolds position.

Fr. Gregory's expression remained the same as he said, "I received the word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will." 

Odessa shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You're making innocent people kill because of God's will." 

Fr. Gregory tilted his head. "Those innocent people are being offered redemption," He turned to face the duo, and Odessa wasn't sure if he was staring at her or Sam. "Some people need redemption. Don't they, children?" Odessa's question was answered, and she instantly regretted ever questioning him. She didn't need to be reminded of her lack of salvation. 

Father Reynolds seemed gobsmacked at his words. "How can you call this redemption?" He asked fiercely.

Turning to face him, Father Gregory's face became much more urgent. "You can't understand it now. But the rules of Man and the rules of God are two very different things." 

"Those people—they're locked up." 

"No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to heaven." Said Father Gregory. 

Fr. Reynolds shook his head, mouth parted. "No, no. This is vengeance. It's wrong. Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided." 

Thomas Gregory frowned. "Father...no, I''m not misguided."

"You're not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels." 

Father Gregory's face fell. "But...but I-I don't understand. You prayed for me to come." 

Shaking his head, Fr. Reynolds's voice wavered. "I prayed for God's help, not this. What you're doing is not God's will. 'Thou shalt not kill'. That's the word of God." Father Gregory whirled around, staring intently at his tombstone with his name engraved. Had he finally come to the startling realization what he was doing was wrong? 

Odessa, with the softest voice she could muster, spoke with gentle features. "Please, let us help you," He shook his head, exclaiming a simple 'no'. "It's time to be put to rest, Father Gregory," She thought over to what Fr. Reynolds had said prior. "Let Father Reynolds give you your rites." Apprehensively, he nodded and peered down at the marble flooring. 

Father Reynolds faced his palms upward. "O holy hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day in fulfillment of the will of God." Thomas Gregory's apparition flickered, disappearing momentarily before returning. Reynolds's mouth went slack as Thomas called out for him. "Rest," They all watched as he went down on his knees. "I call upon the archangel Raphael, master of the air, to make open the way.  Let the fire of the holy spirit now descend that this being might be awakened to the world beyond." 

Father Gregory's spirit transformed in the blinding light and disappeared within the blink of an eye. 

SORRY FOR THE ABRUPT ENDING! I JUST REALLY WANTED TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER SO BAD OMG I WAS SO DONE WITH RE-WATCHING THIS EPISODE OVER AND OVER AGAIN! ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED IT AND I LOVE YOU GUYS! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 80K THAT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I MADE IT THIS FAR! HAVE A GREAT DAY/NIGHT :)