I ALMOST FORGOT TO UPDATE. I MADE IT WITH 5 MINUTES LEFT IN THE DAY.

Libby slipped back into bed next to Sam before anyone woke up, and she even managed to get a little shut eye. She didn't want to have to worry about the excuses and lies she'd have to feed the Winchesters when they saw that she was cured but Sam was still sick. She couldn't tell them that she killed Andrew. He was still a threat out there and she couldn't risk it.

What if he came back looking for revenge and everyone thought he was dead? No one would be prepared and there would be casualties. Libby decided to wing it and closed her eyes, curling into Sam. Out of reflex, he reached his arm over her body and pulled her tighter against him, nuzzling his face in her neck with her hair up in a bun.

The next morning Elizabeth woke to the smell of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and a gasp that had escaped Sam's mouth. She felt his hands running along her arms, pushing her shirt up a bit to reveal the scarred skin on her abdomen. But there were no bulging black and red veins. "Libby," he whispered in astonishment and excitement. "You're healed." He glanced up at her face with a grin, laughing when he saw that her body had filled back out. Libby sat up in her bed groggily, examining her arms to play along.

"Oh my God." She forced out a laugh and a grin. "It's gone!" She let out a squeal as Sam pulled her towards him and planted a kiss on her lips, pulling away and laughing again.

"We gotta tell Dean." Before the redhead could even open her mouth to reply and protest, Sam was already running out of the room shouting his older brother's name. She chuckled to herself and quickly raced after him, not taking much time to catch up to the sick man. "Dean! Dean!" Dean jumped at the sudden shouting of his name, dropping the pan in his hand.

"Dammit, Sam!" He turned around to scold him further when Libby walked in the kitchen, the only bumps on her exposed skin being the scars from Hell. Dean's eyes widened. "What the-" Libby shrugged but smiled, even though the guilt was eating her away.

"I don't know. I just woke up like this," she lied. Dean walked over slowly, examining her arms in his hands before pulling her against him in a tight embrace and kissing the top of her head. She hugged him back after a moment of hesitation.

"Oh, thank God." You can say that again, Libby thought to herself. "You're healthy, you're powerful, you're strong. I could just go on. We have a fighting chance at slamming the Gates and both of you surviving now." The smile fell from her lips when she realized that this Dean didn't know she'd be sucked right in with the rest of the demons. But she didn't dare say anything to him about it. Libby didn't want to risk her death actually happening. If she managed to save Sam then that was all that mattered. Chuck would just give someone else the responsibility to stop the Darkness while Libby took over Hell and ran it correctly. She forced the smile back on her face when she pulled away, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. They were still depressed and almost dead, but Dean didn't seem to notice.

"I love you so much," Sam told her before pulling her into another hug. Libby clutched her boyfriend tightly, never wanting to let go. She was afraid of what would happen if they found out the truth, and the truth always manages to come out in the Winchester family. The family that she was considered a part of. She sniffled and a single tear slipped down her cheek. Sam heard it, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why are you crying?"

"I guess I'm just happy," she lied smoothly again, not pulling away to keep up the facade. She figured that she'd be lying a lot in the upcoming weeks, something she didn't want to do. "Hey, um, I'm gonna go get dressed, okay?" Sam nodded and let her go, watching as she raced out of the kitchen without sparing them another glance. The brothers didn't say anything. They just grinned and cleaned up the eggs that had landed on the floor after Dean dropped the frying pan. They were like two kids in a candy store. Hope filled their eyes and they exchanged silent words with their eyes.

Libby fished the book from her backpack, flipping to the last few pages that contained her poorly written death. Instead the story ended with her climbing out of the Cage. Chuck had erased it all, letting her write her own future instead of being handed one. Libby grabbed the book and slid it in the box that held her Sword, locking it. No one was to touch the book again. It was to stay under a lock that only Elizabeth could open with her touch and power. She didn't want to know what her future looked like if it changed. She was content with it as long as Sam and Dean lived out a normal life and she performed her duty to stop the Darkness and protect the Winchesters.

  ~*~ 

Dean walked in the room, Libby glancing up at the sound of his footsteps to see him carrying a tray of food. Sam was huddled underneath a blanket, hunched over the table reading through documents. "Alright, here we go. John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew," Dean said as he set the tray down in front of Sam. "There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad used to make." Sam pushed it away, bringing a frown to Libby's blood red lips. "Yeah, we do the whole airplane thing with the spoon?" Dean picked up the silver spoon and waved it around. Sam glanced up at him before looking back down at the document without another word. "When was the last time you ate?" the oldest Winchester questioned, throwing down the spoon. Sam looked up, shrugging.

"I- I don't..."

"Days, Sam," Libby interrupted. "It's been three days. It's also been three days since I've seen you smile." Dean pulled a thermometer out of his pocket, Sam scoffing at the sight.

"When'd you get that?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean as he read the small blue print on the white and blue stick.

"When you started throwing off heat waves. Here." Dean went to hand the thermometer to Sam or put it in his mouth, Libby wasn't really sure, but Sam just threw off the blanket and got up. Instead of having a smooth retreat, he stumbled. Libby jumped up from her seat and caught him, steadying her boyfriend.

"Enough, Dean! Please." Libby scowled at the large man and stepped next to Dean, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The bloody handkerchiefs, the fever, the shaky legs... this is not good," she told him. She sighed. "Something magical isn't just going to cure you in the middle of the night. It doesn't work like that, Sammy." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It worked for you!" he argued. Libby threw her hands up in the air in disbelief.

"Sam, I'm an Archangel! The unexplainable and impossible is bound to happen to me! I think that my body finally just fought off the illness. You're human. The unexplainable and impossible doesn't just happen to you," Libby sneered, seething with anger. She had dealt with Sam and his mood swings for the past three days knowing it was from seeing her cured overnight. She understood and was okay with that, but now they were starting to get on her nerves.

"Well, I'm not good. And I'm not going to be good until we can start moving again. Until I can start the third trial," Sam told the redhead calmly. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Trial? I wouldn't let you start a moped," he replied. Dean threw the thermometer down on the table. "We're on the rails with this thing, okay, and the only way out of it is through it, believe me, I know. And you know how bad I wanna slam the door on all those sons of bitches. But you gotta let me take care of you, man. You gotta let me help you get your strength back," Dean pleaded. Sam shook his head. He looked like shit, even worse than three days earlier. Libby only looked better. She grew stronger with each passing hour, constantly practicing her powers in preparation to find Andrew and kill him.

"This isn't a cold or a fever, or whatever it is you're supposed to feed. This is part of it all. Those first two trials... they're not just things I did. They're doing something to me. They're changing me, Dean." Libby frowned at Sam finished speaking. It wasn't changing him it was killing him.But Libby remembered the deal she had made with Chuck; her and Sam get out of the Trials alive. Sam well and on Earth, Libby strong and in Hell. Dean's phone buzzed and the computer beeped before either Hunter could reply and he fished it out of his pocket.

"It's Kevin," Dean announced. The three of them made their way into the next room, Sam trailing behind slowly and weakly.

"Finally," Sam breathed. Dean opened the email on the laptop, clicking a video link. It was the only text in the message.

Kevin's face popped up on the screen. Libby's heart broke at the sight. He looked almost as bad as Sam did. Bloodshot eyes, messy hair, a slight stubble from a few days without shaving, and his eyes seemed to be missing the hope that they once held. "Sam, Dean, Libby.. I've set up this message with some software on a remote server so it'd send itself to you if I didn't reset it with a command once a week. Which means I didn't reset it this week. And there's only one reason I wouldn't. Which means if you're watching this, then I... then I— I'm dead."

Libby's hand flew to her mouth and she spun around, choking back a sob. Sam held her in his arms and Libby turned back towards the screen, forcing herself to watch. Kevin slammed his hand down on the desk and leaned forward towards the camera.

"I'm dead, you bastards! So screw you, screw God and everybody in between!" Kevin paused, no sound coming from the laptop but the whirring of gears and Kevin's breathing. "Crowley must've gotten to me. And the one thing I know is that I won't break this time. Not sure how I know, but— but I do. I've been uploading all my notes, the translations, I'm sending you the links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I'm sorry." The teenager started to tear up and Libby felt her heart shatter, not just break. "I know it was my job, but I— but I couldn't...I'm sorry." The video ended, the screen closing out. Dean turned around, taking a few steps before swiping a stack of books off of the table behind them. Libby jumped, moving back a few feet to avoid the books hitting her.

"Damn it!" he roared before continuing out of the room, leaving Sam and Libby standing there. No tears escaped Libby's eyes. She couldn't bring herself to cry even if she tried. Libby turned on her heel and walked off, grabbing her Sword in the process, and headed straight for the training room.

  ~*~ 

She let out a scream as she sliced through a dummy's neck, stuffing exploding out of the head and raining down like confetti. She twisted the Sword around in a swift motion before doing a complete three-sixty and drove the Sword straight through the chest. She saw a few beads escape through the opening, bouncing on the floor as they rolled around the room. She yanked out the Sword and continued to damage the dummy, slicing, stabbing, and kicking it until she started to sweat.

The redhead decided she had enough and wanted something loud. Something dangerous. She wanted something that showed her anger. So she pulled out the gun that rested in the back of the waistband of her jeans and walked over to the open wall of the shooting range, shooting a round rapidly. Each bullet pierced the paper with accuracy, driving straight through the head of the target. A couple bullets lodged themselves into the stone wall while others bounced off. After going through four rounds of ammo, she slammed the gun down, panting heavily. Anger still boiled in her blood and adrenaline continued to pump through her veins. Training wasn't enough anymore. She needed to kill something and she needed to kill it now. "Libby?" She turned around slowly to see Dean leaning against the doorway, staring at her with worried green eyes. "I was hoping we could talk." She nodded and tightened her ponytail.

"What about?" Dean walked into the room, stopping a foot away from her. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, glancing down at the ground.

"You, actually. The way you've been acting and such." Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She didn't see anything wrong in the way she performed and acted. In fact, she thought she seemed better. "You're more...violent. What exactly happened?"

"I don't know what your talking about," she replied smoothly. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Mhm."

"Because you never trained like that before," he told her, pointing to the dummy behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded her head to the side. "And you never bothered to practice with a gun, always claiming that the Sword was enough." Libby just shrugged.

"I need to master a gun in the scenario that I lose my Sword. It's just precaution." Dean nodded slowly, not believing a word out of her mouth. "Dean, I'm fine. I promise."

"See, those two words are words you and Sam seem to just throw around. You're not fine!" His voice had gone from calm to angry, shouting the last sentence. Elizabeth didn't bat an eye.

"I suppose we learned it from you," she said in a monotone, pursing her lips. Dean scowled and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her back until she was pinned to the wall. Elizabeth made no move to push him off or fight back.

"What is going on with you?" he yelled. "You're magically cured and now you're just some-"

"Killing machine?" Libby finished, quoting Dean with her eyebrows raised. Dean nodded. "I realized that I didn't take my job seriously enough. Sam is going to die if we don't do something about it."

"What can we do besides stop him from doing the third Trial? I'm all ears, because unless you know something I don't then we got nothing," he demanded. Libby grabbed his arm and led him out of the shooting range to her room mutely. She really didn't want to pull out the book, but it was necessary. "Where are we-" She ran her fingers along the Enochian symbols, the hieroglyphics glowing a bright blue before the box opened with a soft click. Libby snatched the book out of the bottom of the box and handed it to Dean. "What is this?"

"My story." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I found it at Charlie's. It's supposed to go in the Bible with the Winchester Gospels." Dean opened to a random page, his eyes skimming over it. It happened to be a story about her time on Earth before she was banished. It was when she first received the Sword. His eyes widened and he pointed to a line repeatedly.

"Libby, did you read all of this?" She shook her head.

"No. I kind of skipped around. Why?" She walked over next to his towering frame, leaning over his arm to read the words.

"Your Sword can kill everything except you. You just have to focus hard enough." Libby shook her head again, reading the few paragraphs that explained the history of the Sword of Elizabeth.

"No. No, that's not right. I was told otherwise. It can't kill Lucifer, God, or any of the Archangels or Horsemen. Just me and any other supernatural creatures." Dean nodded his head to the side.

"Yeah, you can't kill Lucifer or God, but it says nothing about the four Horsemen. Lucifer is your blood which is in the Crystal and God created it, so it obviously can't kill him. But if you were at full power, you could kill almost anything or make the Sword do anything you wanted," Dean explained. Libby's eyes widened and she took a step back, running her hand along the hilt of the Sword that rested on her hip. She held all of the power she needed to kill Andrew already. But Dean's triumphant grin fell when he continued to read.

"What? What is it?" Dean slowly looked up, gulping.

"It can't kill one of the first."

"What does that mean?"

"Abaddon and Andrew...the Sword won't kill them." All hope that Libby had rushed out of her body in a split second. Her posture seemed to slump and she turned and stared at the wall in thought. Dean watched her, confused as to what she was doing. "Listen, I gotta make some calls to find Kevin. You good on your own?" Libby nodded mutely, listening as Dean set the book back in the box and retreated from her room. She didn't know what to do from there. She didn't know how to kill Andrew and, suddenly, all that time training seemed pointless. It was time that could've been spent trying to save Sam but now that time was wasted.

  ~*~ 

Libby walked in the main room of the Bunker to see Sam and Dean seated at the table, going over Kevin's notes. Neither of them heard her come in. They were too engrossed in the papers. "Hmm," Sam hummed before his gaze shifted to another page. "There it is again, every time."

"Hmm?" Dean looked up, head in his hand with exhaustion written all over his face. Libby looked just as exhausted having trained for the past two hours to get out her rage. It worked a bit, but she'd still snap easily if someone annoyed her or pissed her off.

Sam placed one of the papers down in front of Dean, sliding it towards him and pointing to a symbol. "This symbol? I know it. Now, Kevin has it down as, as sort of like a signature, for the Scribe of God. It appears every time Metatron makes one of his, uh, like, editor's notes," Sam explained.

"Okay...?" Dean said, trailing off, not following. Libby perked up at the mention of the Scribe of God and walked over, glancing over Sam's head to study the notes. She picked up a sheet of paper.

"But I think I've seen it before. I mean, it was a long time ago, it was one of my, uh, humanities courses at Stanford. And there's another one, too, but it doesn't really belong to anyone," Sam told him. Libby growled lowly at the paper. She recognized the other signature. She knew it all too well.

"They taught Word of God at Stanford?" Dean questioned, watching as Sam jumped out of his seat to grab a book.

"No, uh, it was an overview of Native American art—I think it's a petroglyph," Sam replied as Dean walked towards him, Sam gesturing to the papers.

"A petro-what-now?" Libby picked up another paper, studying it. The second signature wasn't quite mastered and it was a bit different every time. But that's because it was forged.

"The son of a bitch!" she yelled, throwing down the sheets of paper. Sam and Dean turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. She met their gaze, her fists clenching at her sides. "He forged my signature on this."

"Who, what, why?" Dean questioned, confused. He had no idea what Libby was even talking about. She picked up one of the sheets of paper and held it up, pointing to the second signature. It was a pentagram with the letter E in Enochian inside the middle space.

"That signature? It's mine. Metatron forged it. I never helped write the Demon Tablet, I helped write the Angel Tablet," she explained. Sam and Dean exchanged wide eyed glances.

A minute later Sam slammed an open book on the table and pointed to the symbol that was Metatron's signature. "This one belonged to a tiny tribe in Colorado, more of a— a clan, really. It says here they held onto their scrap of mountains when all the other tribes fell to the white men. So this glyph was a territorial marker—closest translation: 'messenger of God'." Sam thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Messenger of God. Messenger of God—Dean, we have to go there!" Sam exclaimed. Dean raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.

"On that hunch? You can barely function."

"I'm only gonna get worse," Sam argued. Dean held his head in his hand, rubbing his temple. "I mean, until we get back to the real job, until we find the third trial—we're out of prophets! We're not gonna figure out what Kevin couldn't! I'd say we go to this messenger of God who wrote it in the first place!" Sam ran a hand down his face, showing just how exhausted he was. Libby didn't want him to even leave the bed in the mornings let alone the Bunker to go to Colorado.

"And you think this Metatron is hiding out in the mountains with a bunch of Indians," Dean stated.

"Yeah! Yeah, I do." Sam nodded his head, but Dean just stared at him incredulously. "You're not— you're not really supposed to say 'Indians', it's...we should go," he told his brother, giving up on his new argument before it even started. He walked off, walking right past Libby and rushing towards his room to pack a bag.

"You are delirious," Dean muttered before following after his little brother. Libby rolled her eyes and nodded.

"I second that," she agreed, chasing after the two.

  ~*~ 

The trio of Hunters entered the Two Rivers Hotel off of Route 34 in Colorado, glancing around the room they were in as they walked towards the front desk. "Nice place," Dean commented, eyeing a few slot machines along the way to the desk. Dean rang the bell and only moments later the hotel manager entered the room. He was Native American, obviously, but Libby couldn't help but notice how familiar he seemed. There was a certain energy that radiated off of him. "Morning. Hi," Dean greeted with a smile. "Uh, we'd like a room...here, please." Without a reply, the manager turned around and grabbed an open book before placing it in front of Dean. Dean sent Libby a glance that was meant to make her chuckle or at least smile, but she never took her eyes off of the manager. She tilted her head to the side, studying him. She caught him eyeing her Sword.

Sam started to wander while Dean signed them in. "Did you hear that?" Sam asked Dean and Libby. The redhead and the dirty blonde glanced over, furrowing their eyebrows.

"Hear what?" they chorused. The manager sent them an odd, stone-faced look.

"He has the flu," Dean lied. The manager glanced over to Sam, his eyebrows scrunching in the slightest while Dean just gave him a smile and rolled his eyes in a way to state that Sam was delusional. Libby cleared her throat, sending Dean a pointed glare.

  ~*~ 

Sam laid back on one of the old bed, chugging what was left in a glass of water. Libby looked up from her book at the sound of Dean's entry. She had decided to bring it along in hopes of seeing Metatron again. Maybe he'd have some answers for her, but she'd need the book for reference. It had been a long time since she spoke the dialect of an angel, or anyone from the beginning of time for that matter. "Regular tourist mecca we got here." Dean shut the door behind him. "We're the only guests in this whole place. Last entry in the registry was in '06," Dean explained as Sam laid on his back, resting his head on Libby's lap. She held the book above his head and her eyes continued to absorb the words.

"Hey, you remember when uh... when Dad took us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, on that pack-mule ride?" Sam asked, his eyes closed and his arm resting on his forehead. Both Dean and Libby looked up, confused. Libby knew that it had to be a long time ago if it involved John, especially if he had taken them somewhere. They had to be kids at the time.

"The what?" Dean questioned.

"And your, uh-" Sam chuckled slightly. "-your mule kept farting, just— l-letting go, like, gale force?" Libby raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips. Sam seemed happy recalling the memory, but Dean just seemed confused.

"Dude, you were like, four years old. I barely remember that," Dean told him. Suddenly Sam started laughing and Libby grinned. She loved the sound of his laugh, even if he was sick as hell and delusional. It was a real, genuine laugh. Something none of them had had in the past year probably. The redhead giggled as he continued to laugh.

Sam sighed, grinning, and said, "You rode a farty donkey." Dean stared at him weirdly, nodding slowly. But Libby just did her best to stifle her giggles before anymore could escape.

"Okay. Uh, I'm gonna go check out the Two Rivers Tribal Museum and Trading Post." Dean stood up, a brochure in his hand.

"Yeah. Yeah!" Sam sat up in the bed and Libby placed the book to the side, ready to grab him back if he tried to go anywhere. "I'm gonna— I'm gonna, uh. I'm gonna follow the hotel manager, D-Dr. Scowley-scowl. He's like a villain from Scooby-Doo," Sam said quietly, staring blankly at the wall. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, hey, uh, little big man?" Sam looked over to Dean with wild hair and eyes. "You should get some rest," he suggested.

"Yeah, I can do that too," Sam agreed, flopping back. Libby grunted when his head fell on her thighs, hurting her a bit. She winced and looked up to Dean. Sam was knocked out the minute his head hit her bony legs.

"Maybe you should get a little meat on ya," Dean told her. She scowled at the man who just smirked. "Keep watch over him, okay?"

"What else would I be doing?" Libby asked in a 'duh' tone. Dean rolled his eyes at her but left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Libby let out a sigh and leaned back on the headboard, combing her fingers through Sam's hair as she went back to her book. Something was up with the hotel and it was messing with Sam.

About ten minutes later Sam started to writhe around on the bed before sitting up. "Sam?" Libby asked, setting her book off to the side. He got up and staggered out of the room. Libby furrowed her eyebrows and chased after him. "Sam, where are you going? You need to sleep." He made it out into the hall, using the walls as guidance and balance. Libby closed the door behind her and walked over to him as he stared down the hall. The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened, Sam throwing himself into a doorway. He peeked around the corner, watching as the hotel managed pushed a cart to a door at the end of the hall. Boxes were stacked outside of it. The manager added to the pile before retreating. "Sam, what's-" Libby stopped when she caught sight of the boxes. She wondered how she hadn't noticed them before.

Sam and Libby made their way towards the boxes, Sam practically throwing himself on the floor and grabbing a box. He pulled off the tape and flipped open the cardboard flaps to reveal a bunch of classic books. Libby grabbed another box and opened that one, getting the same thing as her boyfriend; books. Libby wasn't watching Sam, she was reading the titles, so she didn't notice Sam stumble back to the hotel room. When she looked up he was gone. "Sam?" she called out, glancing around the hall. Libby raced back to the hotel room, standing just outside the door when she heard a large thump. She threw open the door to see Sam laying on the floor unconscious, phone next to his head. "Sam!"

"Libby?" Dean's voice from the phone asked. "Libby, what's going on?"

"Get back to the room. NOW!" The line went dead and she could only assume that Dean was coming back. Libby managed to drag Sam over to the bed and slide him up on it, grunting just as Dean threw open the door. She placed a hand to Sam's forehead. "He's burning up. He's got a fever and it's really high. Ice. Go get ice, and lot's of it," she ordered. Dean nodded, not questioning the hybrid, and rushed out of the room. Libby started the bathtub and let ice cold water run, filling it up only halfway so that they'd have room for the ice.

About ten minutes later Sam shot up from under the water and ice, gasping for air. He went to wrap his arms around himself for warmth before seeing the ice. Dean instantly jumped up to calm him down. "Get off!" Sam yelled, pushing Dean away and jumping out of the bathtub. He walked towards the door, shivering, and wrapped his arms around himself. Libby grabbed a towel and raced in the bathroom.

"Take it easy, Sam. Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy, take it-" Libby wrapped the towel around Sam's shoulders, momentarily distracting Dean. "Libby found you on the floor, passed out, your temperature was a one-oh-seven. I had to force it down or you were toast." Sam gasped constantly from the cold, still shivering.

"He's here, Dean. Metatron is here, I know it, I can hear him." Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. How could Sam hear him but not her? She's the one who had a connection to him. A personal connection.

"What're you talking about?" Dean questioned with scrunched eyebrows.

"All I know is that I'm connected to it somehow," Sam replied. Libby shook her head. Sam wasn't making sense to her.

"What, like you got a link to him, like a prophet?" she questioned.

"I don't know! I just know Metatron is here." Dean nodded.

"Okay, 'here' where?" Sam continued to breathe heavily, catching his breath from the cold, nodding to himself.

"I can show you. I can show you. The manager-" Sam glanced at the door to the hotel room. "-He was delivering books to him." Dean stared at Sam in confusion.

"Books?"

"Books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, novels—books," Libby clarified loudly, growing impatient with Dean. Dean thought about it for a moment, staring at the floor.

"Stories," he mumbled in realization. The three Hunters raced out of the room, moving as fast as they could with Sam struggling to keep up. Libby led the way. "I should be taking you to the ER," Dean grunted as they moved slowly.

"They can't do anything for me," Sam replied, using the walls as guidance. "You know, I've been remembering things, little things, so clearly—" They turned the corner.

"What, donkey rides?" Libby asked with a snort. He shook his head and directed his attention to Dean, ignoring his girlfriend.

"You used to read to me, um, when I was little, I— I mean, really little, from that— from that old, uh-" Sam chuckled, pointed at Dean. "-Classics Illustrated comic book. You remember that?" Dean shook his head.

"No."

"Knights of the Round Table," Sam replied, remembering the title of the book. Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. If Dean didn't even remember it then how did Sam? Were they even his memories? "Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and—" Sam stepped in front of Dean, stopping him from walking any further. Libby came to a halt and turned around, wondering why she didn't hear the shuffling of their boots on the floor. "-and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure?" Libby hung her head in sorrow, sympathy, and guilt. A little kid thought he wasn't good enough and he continued to grow up thinking that.

"Sam, it's not your fault," Libby told him, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials... they're purifying me." Sam's eyes were glossy, coated with water that showed that tears threatened to fall. Sam turned and walked the last few steps to the door. Libby and Dean exchanged worried glances. The Trials weren't purifying him, they were killing him.

"Sam, if the Trials were going to purify anyone then don't you think I'd be purified? I'm still part demon and I'm still an abomination," Libby told him as she followed. Sam shook his head and pointed a finger at her.

"No. No, it makes sense why you were healed. You're purified. All of that...you weren't dying, Libby, your body was purifying itself for the Trials. We're connected, remember?"

"Sam, that wasn't purification, that was-" Libby cut herself off, remembering what Chuck had told her.

"There will be consequences."

This was one of those consequences. Sam believed that these Trials were purifying him. That they were helping both him and Libby. Dean eyed her, studying her body language. She had tensed up, guilt taking over her face. He didn't say anything and instead looked at Sam who started to flip. "They were here, the— the— the books, the boxes! They— they're gone." The door was slightly ajar, the light of the room creeping out into the hall. Dean pushed open the door to the hotel room, the wooden rectangle creaking eerily.

They were greeted by the sight of books. Hundreds, thousands, of them stacked in piles as tall as Sam. They littered the hotel room, even when they turned the corner. Except instead of just seeing more books, they came face to face with Metatron who aimed a rifle at them. Dean raised his hands slightly and Sam did the best to mimic his actions, leaning slightly on a stack of books. Libby drew her sword and stepped in front of the Winchesters, pointing the sword at Metatron.

"Who're you?" Metatron demanded. He hadn't recognized Libby. It had been years since he'd seen the redhead.

"Metatron?" Dean asked cautiously. "This is Metatron?" He looked to Libby, gesturing to the man with the gun. "This is Metatron?" Libby sighed and nodded.

"Yup. One hundred percent egotistical Metatron," she replied, studying him. Suddenly he reappeared behind them.

"Sit down," he ordered. Sam and Dean obeyed, slowly back into the chair and the table behind them. Dean took the chair, Sam sitting on the table. But Libby stood her ground and slowly approached the man. Sam clutched his head, scrunching his face in pain. "Who sent you?" Metatron asked.

"We came on our own. We're the Winchesters," Sam told him, half-shouting. As Metatron inched closer Libby could hear the ringing, dropping the Sword of Elizabeth to clutch her head as the pain worsened. He was doing it to her on purpose. He sensed her power. She fell to her knees on the ground. Due to her heightened senses, she experienced it ten times worse than Sam.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam, and the pretty redhead that is currently wanting to kill you is Libby. I believe you know her," Dean introduced sassily. Metatron never lowered the rifle and eyed Libby on the floor.

"You work for Michael? Or Lucifer?" Libby looked up in confusion, her hands lowering from her head as the ringing slowly subsided for her.

"What, you really haven't heard of us? What kind of angel are you, we're— we're the freaking Winchesters," Sam yelled. Libby groaned.

"Sam, stop shouting, dammit!" She pushed herself off of the ground shakily, picking up her Sword. Metatron's eyes widened when he recognized the weapon. "Dammit, Metatron, put the fucking gun down!"

"Elizabeth?" he whispered, tilting his head to the side as he studied her. She hadn't changed much since he last saw her. He could still recognize her if he tried. "I don't-"

"Lucifer and Michael are in the Cage," she growled. "And so was I until I got out. We put those two in there ourselves."

"What about Gabriel? And Raphael?" Metatron questioned. Sam shook his head, pressing his fingers to his ears now.

"Dead," he shouted.

"You really don't know this?" Dean asked. Metatron shook his head slightly, glancing between Libby and Dean who exchanged surprised looks.

"I've been very careful."

"Hey, can you—can you turn that down?" Sam practically screamed.

"Turn what dow— ohh. You're resonating." Metatron lowered the rifle as Dean took his turn to be confused. Libby snapped her fingers, hoping it'd work. Relief flashed across Sam's face and he let out a heavy breath, signaling that it had worked. "You're stronger," Metatron realized. Libby nodded and sheathed her Sword. She didn't see Metatron as a threat, only as a douchebag.

"Resonating? What— what do you mean, resonating?" Dean inquired.

"You've undertaken the trials. You're trying to pull one of the great levers, aren't you? You're pretty far along, too. You get that far along, you start resonating with the Word. Or with its source on the material plane. With me," Metatron explained. He studied the Archangel-Hybrid in front of him, eyeing her up and down. He could only assume it was the Demon Tablet since Sam seemed fine whenever he was around Libby.

"You said you were being careful. Careful how?" Libby asked. Metatron put the gun to the side, leaning it against a pile of books. He gestured to an empty chair in the corner for Libby to sit in, but she just shook her head in refusal. She needed to be on high alert in case Metatron decided to betray them.

"I'm not one of them. I'm not an archangel. Really more run-of-the-mill. I worked in the secretarial pool before God chose me to take down the Word. Anyway, he... seemed very worried about his work, what would happen to it when he left, so he had me write down instructions. Then, he was gone. After that, the archangels took over." Metatron pulled a chair from off to the side and sat down in it. "And they cried, and they wailed. They wanted their father back. I mean, we all did. But then... then they started to scheme. The archangels decided if they couldn't have Dad, they'd take over the universe themselves. But they couldn't do anything that big without the Word of God. So I began to realise, maybe they would realise... they needed me." Libby held her hand out, stopping Metatron.

"Wait, wait, wait." He looked up at her as she slowly walked towards him, her heels echoing in the room. "How come I don't remember any of this? The Archangels started to take over when I was, like, ten," she told him. Metatron nodded his head to the side.

"Well, yeah, but God didn't leave until after you were thrown in Hell. Elizabeth, he stayed that long for you. He wanted to make sure no harm was to come to you before and during you got thrown in. Whatever happened after that was out of his hands. So he left when you were gone," he explained. Libby ran a hand through her hair and leaned against a shelf, crossing her right leg over her left and her arms against her chest.

"So you get a ruffle in your feathers and just decide to disappear? Go stick your head in the sand, forever?" Metatron nodded, confirming Dean's thoughts. "You have no idea what's been going on out there. I-I mean Libby's crawled her way out of Hell twice. We tossed Lucifer's ass in the Cage with Michael. There were Leviathans and we didn't have her to help! Libby almost died just five days ago and then suddenly she was healed. Can you explained that?" Dean was starting to get angry and Libby hissed his name, sending him a glare. If there was one thing you didn't want to do it was to piss off Metatron. He didn't like people who had an attitude towards him and Dean was working his way up to that point.

"Nope. That's the whole point," Metatron responded with a smile. Libby let a growl escape her throat before she scoffed, staring at Metatron in disbelief.

"I can't believe it. You know, after all these years I actually thought that you'd have changed." he furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd have a bit of heart and step up and help. You're like God; you don't want anything unless something is in it for you." Libby took long strides towards Metatron, her hands on the armrests of his chair and their faces barely inches apart. "I was ready to die to protect the Tablets. The Tablets that we wrote together. Do you not remember any of that? The countless days we'd spend hold up in some stupid office swirling little symbols into wet muck?" Her voice grew louder and louder with each word, the anger boiling in her blood. "I actually trusted that you were there to help us."

"You wanna know why I lost faith in you, Elizabeth? Why I was Team Throw You Into Hell instead of keeping you on Earth?" Libby nodded in the slightest. If you blinked you wouldn't have caught it. "You were in love with Humanity. It was too dangerous to have. You were simply meant to protect them, but you fell in love with a human. God loved watching you and Andrew try to build a life and act normal, but we both knew it would never work out. And look where we are now, Elizabeth. You're just playing Guardian Angel for a couple of Hunters." Libby grabbed his shirt and tugged him out of his chair, his toes barely touching the ground. He was a small man with a bit of a pudgy belly; easy for her to throw around if she wanted.

"Andrew isn't human, Metatron! He's one of Hell's Angels now!" Metatron's eyes widened in shock, and Libby swore she could see a bit of fear in them. "I can't kill him and he needs to die!" Metatron's voice shook, wavering with every word that toppled out of his mouth next.

"That means that you're Hell's Archangel. That you're part demon now." Libby had enough anger and power in her for her wings to appear. Her actual wings. Not just a shadow. The wings that were once grey were now wings of fire. Sam and Dean's eyes widened at the sight. They couldn't feel the heat as it was nonexistent, but they could see the flames licking the feathers. Nothing burned, though. It was almost as if it were for show. Metatron stared into Libby's purple irises and gasped. She was at full power and it was clear. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"There's only one way you can be at full power, especially after being that sick. You were affected by the same noise that Sam was which means you're connected, and I know that it means that you were dying. How did you heal?" Libby's face paled and her wings folded neatly on her back before disappearing, her eyes retreating to their usual green. "You should be covered in black and red veins."

"I just woke up healed," she lied. Libby was grateful that the Winchesters had taught her how to lie her first year that she worked with them. The agreement was to not lie to each other, but everyone knows how that ends up. The family is just a circle of endless lies, but they could never really blame each other. It's how they protected the other. Metatron shook his head.

"No. No, you'd have to have the power of G-" Libby threw Metatron to the ground, immediately remembering her deal with Chuck. Dean shot up from his seat.

"Libby!" She whipped her head around to look at him. He was scowling, his fists clenched at his sides. Sam watched with horror. He hadn't seen Libby this violent in a long time. He hadn't walked in on her training sessions lately. "Go wait outside."

"But-"

"Now, Libby." She sent Metatron a glare before stepping over him and slamming the door to the hotel room behind her.

It felt as if she were waiting for hours. Sam and Dean were really chatting it up with Metatron, probably discussing her every now and then. Libby let out a huff of air as she paced the hotel hallway, trying to calm herself down. All she wanted to do was help, but she couldn't break her promise with God. He may have broken his before but she was adamant on holding up her end of the deal. She wanted to prove herself to him, no matter what it took. The only thing that would keep her from doing so is if Sam, Dean, or Castiel's lives were at risk.

After about an hour Sam and Dean exited the room, Kevin behind them. Libby gasped and her eyes widened at the sight of Kevin. "Kevin?" she questioned. He nodded, grinning at her. She had never been more relieved to see the teenage boy. She pulled him into a tight hug, not letting go even when he let out a pained grunt.

"Your arms...they're healed," Kevin told her as he studied her skin. Libby nodded and pulled away, a grin spreading across her lips.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay now. I'm fine. I'm more than fine actually. I don't understand. We got your video message. I thought-" He shook his head. "You know what? Explain it in the car. Let's go. I don't wanna be in the same building as that winged douche," she said. The group of saviors left the building after getting their belongings from the room, not even bothering to check out. Libby stepped into the cool, night air, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't know why, but she was...happy. The rush of excitement spread all throughout her body and she sent Sam a large smile. He hadn't seen her that happy in a long time.

"Cure a demon. Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we— if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and, and, and bumping into furniture?" Dean asked his brother. Sam nodded, sucking his teeth and looked back to the road. Libby wondered what Metatron could've told them that would make them think Sam would be better afterwards.

"I feel better, yeah, um, just having a direction to move in," Sam replied. Libby rolled her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She had gotten herself into enough trouble as it was. She knew that Dean would rip into her the moment they stepped foot in the Bunker.

"Well, good, cause where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic," Dean told him.

"But we're heading somewhere," Libby chimed in with a slight scoff. "The end." Despite the fact that she knew how it would all play out, she couldn't help but feel relieved. They were almost done with the whole Trials fiasco. If things did change and they slammed the Gates then she would be sucked back in. But if they didn't, Dean and Libby would stop Sam and there was a chance that Libby would still die. But she couldn't let herself hang onto the latter too much. Chuck had made her a promise. She and Sam were going to make it out alive and continue to hunt monsters.

Dean's gaze shifted back to the road just in time to see a figure lying in the middle of the road. His eyes widened and he braked the Impala abruptly, the car swerving around the road before coming to a stop parallel of the figure. The figure ducked his head down at the sight of the car. Sam, Dean, and Libby threw themselves out of the car and Libby raced over to him. "Cas?" Dean called out as they stood at the doors. Libby fell to her knees at her side, checking him for any major injuries.

"A little help, here?" Cas grunted through gritted teeth of pain.