Lebanon, Kansas

Alex wandered down the bunker hallway, her wings dragging behind her as she stifled a jaw-splitting yawn. Her grace stretched lazily out through the bunker, skittering around Chuck, and she felt out for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean was in the kitchen, Sam in the war room, and Alex adjusted her trajectory to join the youngest Winchester. His attention was buried in his laptop, and he didn't hear her approach until she dropped down into the chair next to him. "Morning." She grumbled out the greeting as she let her head fall onto the table, and she felt Sam's hand brush across her back, drawing back her messy hair.

"Hey," she heard him return. "Did you get some sleep?"

"I tried. Maybe an hour or two." Alex tugged on Lucifer's grace, but it refused to budge from where it sat, hardened, around where Castiel was bound to her. Somewhere within her grace, deep inside her, a warmth was rising up, a growing discomfort no longer hindered without the presence of her mate. "But every time I closed my eyes, I just kept thinking about that pain I felt when Amara took Lucifer. I can't even start to imagine what she's doing ..."

She trailed off with a shake of her head, stifling a sigh as she did so. Sam's hesitation prickled through the air, and she rested her chin on her folded arms as she slouched forward. "Well, don't worry," Sam finally said. "She'll have to show herself eventually, and then we'll find them."

The promise in his voice sounded hollow, and Alex grunted as she buried her face in the crook of her arm once again. She could hear approaching footsteps, and she flicked her grace out to find Dean in the hallway, quickly approaching the war room in which she sat. "Hey," he greeted, and Sam's chair squeaked as he turned to face his brother. "Anything?"

"Nada. Thanks," he added after a second, and Alex lifted her head to watch Sam accept an open beer from Dean. Dean grunted in acknowledgement, and he sat down in the chair across from them as Sam continued, "You know, I can't believe I'm about to say this but, for once, I actually wish Rowena was here. I mean, maybe she could track down Amara. She's done it before."

Alex groaned, letting her head fall back to the table, and she listened to Dean take a drink before he responded. "Yeah, but you can bet she and the Book are gonna stay stashed until this whole thing is over." He paused, and Alex heard his chair creak as he looked off behind him. "Where's Chuck?"

"Sleeping in, I guess."

"Does he actually sleep?" Alex reluctantly lifted her head and leaned back in her seat, her wings hanging loosely over the armrests.

Dean shrugged, and the corner of Sam's lip curled. "I know he takes really long showers."

"Right," Dean agreed, "and he sings, too — like, crappy old folks songs." He took a long drink from his beer with a roll of his eyes. "I had to tell him to cool it three times." Sam and Alex exchanged looks, and he added defensively, "What? I sleep."

"I know this is a really strange situation and all, but it's also really amazing, you know?" Sam closed his laptop with a click, and Alex didn't miss the shimmer in his hazel eyes as he chuckled. "I mean, it's God. There's so many things I want to ask him. L-Like, uh, the planets, you know? Why are they round? Or ears. I always thought they were strange —"

"Okay, fanboy, calm down." Dean cut into his ramblings, and Sam clamped his jaw shut with an audible click. "Let's say focused. We gotta find Lucifer before it's too late."

"Too late?" Sam and Alex spoke at the same time, and Alex added, "Since when were you actually on board for finding Lucifer?"

"Amara is —" Dean cut off with a grimace. "She's in my head." Sam's head snapped up, his eyes wide, and Dean's fingers tightened around his glass bottle. "Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of — of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looked like crap — like she's really doing a number on him."

Alex's wings trembled, and she almost missed Sam's "shh" as she reached down to knead at Lucifer's grace. "Hey, morning," she heard Sam say, and she reluctantly lifted her eyes up towards the hall.

Chuck stood in the doorway behind her, a dark robe tied tightly at the waist and a cup of coffee in his hands, and Alex dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. "Is that my robe?" Dean snapped, but Chuck looked past him, his eyes seeking out Alex; she flinched as something thick and sweet, overpowering to the touch, enveloped her grace.

"I'm telling you guys." The warmth pulled away as footsteps approached, and Alex let out the ragged breath she didn't know she had been holding. "It's a mistake to get mixed up with Lucifer. As much as it pained me, I had to walk away." Alex grit her teeth, her muscles straining to keep her wings from fluttering angrily. The footsteps stopped behind her, and she flinched sharply as a hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Too much drama. Do you guys have any bacon?"

"You eat bacon?" Dean grinned, seemingly unaware of Alex's frustrations, and the hand on her shoulder pulled away.

"Hey, guys, this just came up." Sam spoke up, and Alex shifted her chair closer to him, pressing her shoulder into his to get away from Chuck. "Looks like that fog, the, um ... Amara fog, uh, it hit another town."

"And?"

"And this town wasn't as lucky as the last one." Sam glanced over at Dean, his narrow face darkened. "Thousands died. Uh, everybody died. Except for this one man."

Alex chanced a look up into Chuck's face, but it remained blank. "How'd you miss that one?" she muttered scornfully.

Chuck's eyes turned onto her, and she dropped her gaze back onto the table. "She's baiting me," he explained with little more than a shrug, and Alex dug her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from snapping. "I can't respond every time. I won't be manipulated."

Sam shifted in his chair next to Alex, and she curled one wing up to brush against his back as Dean snapped, "Yeah, but thousands of people are dead!"

"Unfortunately." Chuck dropped down into a chair at the head of the table, and Alex watched as he took a long sip from his coffee mug. "So find her."

A pulse of fire churched through Alex's stomach, and she pressed her face into Sam's shoulder, using the thick flannel to stifle a hiss of pain and surprise. Sam pulled back, and his strong arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close. "Hey. You feeling okay?"

"She's starting to go into heat." Chuck answered the question, and Alex felt her face flush with embarrassment.

She glanced over at him, jaw set to hold back a scowl, and when he said nothing more, she prompted, "Well? Do you want to maybe do something about it, or am I just going to have to suffer?"

The wheels on the metal chair squealed as Chuck rose to his feet, and Alex's wings drew in tight as he approached. "I'm sorry about the angels," he began. "They're good at a lot of things, but creativity isn't one of them. Joining grace to a soul is, uh — it's difficult enough as it is, and honestly, I'm surprised that they managed anything as complicated as this. But sometimes simpler is better." His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex winced at the overpowering rush of warmth that poured through her. "I — luckily for you, I think I can rewrite this, uh, line of code, if you will, without unraveling too much."

His fingers twitched against her shoulder, and Alex gasped as her grace melted beneath his touch. She wasn't sure what was happening; it was too fast, too complex, and throughout it, Chuck kept talking.

"Don't worry, it's a simple fix. This might hurt — I think Lucifer might have altered this knot here to subdue it." Alex grunted as her grace jerked painfully, and she held back a gasp as her heat leapt up within her before it quickly quelled. "There." Chuck stepped back, and Alex's hands came up to press against her stomach as he walked away. "That shouldn't bother you again."

"Thanks." Alex watched him go with a thin frown; only once he was out of sight did she turn her attention inwards to her grace. Lucifer's grace still remained inside of her, but the heat was gone, leaving no remnants behind. She flicked her wing off towards where Chuck vanished from. "I'm going to go grab my things. Let's get out of here."

Lewis, Oklahoma

IThe Impala rolled to a stop outside of a grey stone building marked in white letters as the Lewis Police Station. The air was sharp with freshly-fallen spring rain, and Alex drew in a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. She could hear people inside the station; she could smell their anxiety, so strong that not even the rain could wash it away. "They're scared." She muttered the words under her breath, just loud enough for the Winchesters to hear, and Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Can you blame them?" Dean adjusted the tie around his neck as he spoke, and Alex mimicked him by straightening the collar of her blouse. "Let's hope this one survivor knows more about it than the cops think."

He led the way into the station, and Alex fell in step at the rear, her broken wings twitching as she stepped over the threshold. She let the Winchesters introduce themselves to the officer behind the desk, instead busying herself by letting her grace stretch out through the building. The root of the station's anxious air was seated in the back, and Alex reluctantly drew her grace back in.

A hand brushed across her back, passing through her wings, and Alex turned to follow Sam and Dean down the hall. "Alright," Dean began, "cops confirmed that this guy is the sole survivor of the town. He says that his name is Donatello Redfield."

Donatello Redfield. The name flashed across Alex's eyes, and the angel's feet froze to the ground. "R-Redfield?" she repeated, and her grace flipped within her.

Both brothers turned to look back at her, and Dean's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "Yeah. Why, does it mean something to you?"

"He's a prophet. I don't know how — Metatron's spell was supposed to have deactivated the line — but I know that he's one." Alex's grace stretched out through the station, searching for the prophet's soul.

"And I thought Crowley rounded up all the future prophets and tried to kill them," Sam added. "I feel like I would have remembered the name."

"I guess it's possible that he missed a few." Alex tried to peer past the Winchesters, but the prophet remained out of sight. "Maybe this has something to do with Amara, and not ... Chuck. Or maybe not," she added after a moment. "Honestly, at this point we're so far out of my league, I just don't know what's going on."

"It could have been Amara's fog," Dean reluctantly agreed. "Could it have Amara's God power?" Alex glanced over at Sam with a shrug, and when no answer came, Dean heaved a sigh. "Well, let's go talk to him."

The hallway opened up into a large, well-lit room where a man sat at the far table, his hands nervously playing with a worn napkin. He jumped as the three hunters stepped into view, and his eyes stretched wide at the sight of their suits. "Professor Redfield," Dean began, "FBI." He lifted his hand to show off his badge, and Alex circled off behind the man as the brothers sat down at the table.

"C-Call me Donatello." The man's voice shook, and Alex watched how he shifted in his seat until she moved back to stand beside Sam's chair. "Yeah, I-I'm named after him."

He forced a chuckle, and Alex felt Dean's eyes momentarily flicker up to her. "The ... Mutant Ninja Turtle?" he asked.

Sam's head snapped over to his brother, and Donatello's gaze darted across Sam and Alex before they returned to Dean, searching for any sign that the hunter was joking. "The, uh, Renaissance sculptor," Donatello finally corrected.

"Right, of course."

Sam cleared his throat, and Donatello turned back to him. "The cops think I'm a terrorist," he started, his voice rising to the point of panic. "I-I teach chemistry at the University. I lead a quiet life. I have a cat! Had a cat," he corrected after a moment, and his face fell.

"Well, we're, uh, sorry for your loss." Sam folded his hands atop the table, and after a moment's pause, he added, "Just a few questions. Um, other than the fog, did you notice anything or anyone that seemed out of place on the street that night?"

"It — it all happened so fast." Donatello ran his hands through his grey hair, and he took a moment to adjust his thick-set glasses before he shakily launched into his story. "I, uh ... it was like it came out of nowhere. We hardly ever get fog, and never like that." He chuckled, but the humor was forced, and his face paled. "It was horrible. They were clutching their throats like — like — like they were choking. And, oh. Their bodies ... oh my God — these terrible black streaks." Beads of perspiration gathered on the man's hairline as he gave his account, and Alex pulled up a chair beside Sam so she could sit. "And ... and that's when it happened." Donatello's eyes flickered closed, and when he opened them, they shone with a new intensity. "It was like nothing I've ever felt before in my life. It was like my head was exploding, only not with pain, with — with knowledge and ... and clarity. Things that I'd never known before. Symbols and — and voices — in languages I don't speak! The horrible visions of ... destruction ... and death." His eyes closed once again, and his shoulders fell as his voice softened. "You must think I'm crazy."

"We don't." Dean scrubbed at his head, and after a moment's pause, he added, "Alright, I need a coffee." He pushed himself to his feet, and Alex turned to watch him leave before she turned her attention back onto Donatello.

The man's gaze had returned to his hands, and he had begun to pick small pieces from the corner of his napkin again. "Um ... am — am I under arrest?"

"No," Sam promised. "Just, uh ... we want to check out a few more aspects of your story." He pulled out a pen and notepad from his pocket, and Alex leaned back in her chair as she watched the Winchester scribble down a few words upon the paper. "Here we go. Would you look at this? Try and read it a little."

He pushed the notepad towards Donatello, and Alex tipped her head to glance at the Enochian phrase. The man's eyes went wide at the sight of it, and he frantically looked between the two hunters. "Oh, I can't. I — I don't know anything about it." He reluctantly looked back down when Sam pushed the notepad even closer, and Alex watched as his shoulders stiffened. " 'Behold the face of God.' " His head snapped up, his mouth open. "That came right to me. Who speaks this language?"

"Angels." Alex's wings twitched as she spoke. "Congrats, Donatello. You're a prophet now." She glanced over her shoulder towards Dean; he was standing beside the coffee machine, frozen in place, and her lips flickered down into a frown. It lasted only a moment before her phone rang, and Alex directed her scowl towards the string of numbers across her screen. "Hello?"

"Alex. Long time no see."

"Metatron." Alex's feathers bristled, and her chair legs squealed as she rose to her feet. "How did you get my number?" Sam stiffened next to her, and Alex pressed her phone into her shoulder. "Get Donatello to the car so we can go. I gotta take this."

She stepped out of the room, waiting only until she was out of earshot before she returned her phone to her ear. " — your number a long time ago," Metatron was saying, and Alex rolled her eyes. "And trust me, I've been keeping my distance. But I couldn't help but notice that you've been in touch with Chuck. Well, I've got some ... information you're gonna need to know."

"What? That Chuck is Chuck with a capital 'G'?" Alex gave another dramatic eye roll as she leaned up against a wall. "Yeah, been there, heard that. You're gonna need to come up with something better."

"No, no, that's old news." A note of some emotion crept into Metatron's voice; if Alex didn't know the scribe any better, she could have sworn it was desperation. "I have something I need to show you — in person. I'm guessing all three of you are in Oklahoma. Yes, I heard about the fog on the news," he added when Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Let me guess — Chuck's latest mouthpiece has surfaced."

"How do you —"

"Meet me at Flying Tap Ale House in Lebanon tonight. I'll be waiting."

"Wait —" The phone clicked as Metatron hung up, and Alex bit back a scowl. "Okay, great. Great." She shoved her phone into her pocket as she set off in search of Sam; her grace found him heading towards the front door, Dean and Donatello close behind, and she hurried off after them.

Dean was waiting just outside the station. "Sam said Metatron called you." The distaste in his voice was clear, and Alex didn't bother to hide her scowl as she followed him towards the car.

"He did," she agreed sourly. "He says that he has something he needs to show us. He's waiting back in Lebanon." She glanced up in time to see Dean's face tighten, and she added, "If you want, I'll go talk to him alone. You guys can drill Donatello or — or do whatever our plans for him are." She circled around to the backseat of the Impala, pausing only long enough to make sure that Dean was following before she climbed inside. Donatello was sitting in her seat, his hands folded in his lap, and Alex stifled a sigh before she slid in next to him. "Speaking of, what exactly are our plans for the prophet?"

"I — I can't be a prophet!" The words burst out of Donatello's mouth as the Impala roared to life, and Sam and Dean exchanged looks from the front seat. "I am an atheist and a chemist! I-I believe in molecules, not God!"

Alex stifled a snort, and she caught sight of Dean's frown as Sam said, "Alright, well, we're pretty sure that prophets don't know they're even in the game until they've actually been touched by God, so ...."

"I-I was touched by God?"

"Or possibly by his sister, Amara," Dean added, and Sam's eyes flashed.

Donatello gasped, a hand clutching at his chest so tightly that Alex had to reach out with her grace to make sure the prophet wasn't having a heart attack. "He has family?"

"Yeah." Sam ground the word out with a quick glare at Dean. Donatello's eyes widened, and Sam heaved a sigh. "She wants him gone so she can annihilate the universe. That's the headline."

"And since you might have a hotline to her," Dean jumped to add, "we're hoping you can help us find her."

Alex felt Donatello's eyes turned onto her, and she let her attention drift out the window as she said, "We need you to help us find Lucifer. Her ... nephew, I guess. Who is also possessing another angel. My mate." Her fingers plucked at a scrap of fuzz on her dress pants, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, and Donatello's lips fell open in a silent 'o.' He hesitated only for a moment before he scrambled for the door, tugging fruitlessly on the handle; the car door refused to budge. "It's locked."

"Yeah, that too," Dean added when Donatello tried to reach across Alex for the other door. "Sometimes we keep monsters in the back."

Alex pushed Donatello back to his side of the car, her wings twitching crossly as his chest contracted in a breathless sob. "I-I-I — I can't do this!" He scrabbled at the handle again, and Alex reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, her grip erring just on the side of too tight to gather his attention. "I promise you, I can't do this!"

Alex caught Dean's gaze in the rearview mirror, and he rolled his eyes. "Look." Sam turned in his seat so he could look back at the two of them, and Alex let some of her grace trickle inwards to calm Donatello down. "We can't force you to do this. You've got to want this."

Alex felt the prophet's heart rate slow, and she drew back as he let out a shaky laugh. "It — it's like asking me to believe in Santa Claus."

"Oh, well, actually —"

"Dean, not now." Sam shifted in his seat, and Dean stifled a sigh.

"Okay, look. We — we're not asking you to believe that this is true, just act like you do." He paused as the Impala accelerated up the highway, and he finally finished, "People do it all the time." He chuckled, and Donatello fell silent, his jaw clenched as his eyes stared forward into nothingness. Sam's nostrils flared, displeased at the comment, but he didn't reply, and Alex turned her eyes out the window as silence overtook the car. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down to see a message pop up from the black screen. She didn't recognize the address, but she recognized the number. Metatron. The phone vibrated again, and the address was replaced with another text. Meet me there at eight. Don't be late.

Lebanon, Kansas

The string of white lights outside the Flying Tap Ale House illuminated the wet pavement, casting flickering balls of light that bounced among the puddles that had gathered along the uneven sidewalk. A faint brush of a breeze stirred the leaves of an elm, and Alex's wings fluttered as droplets of water trickled down upon her.

The door creaked as she opened it, but the sound was lost beneath the sway of the music that thrummed through the cheap speakers. "Oh! Barkeep!" A familiar voice had Alex turning towards the bar, and her lips curled in a barely-perceived snarl. "Dos margaritas. Top shelf tequila please for my amigo. Her treat." Metatron's grin had Alex's wings flittering, but she stilled them with a deep breath.

"I'm not paying," she muttered, and she dropped down onto the barstool next to the scribe. "Alright, Metatron, I'm here. I swear, if you try and pull something —"

"Pull something?" Metatron scoffed, and Alex caught sight of how his shoulders twitched; hers instinctively did the same, and her feathers rustled. "What could I possibly do? Look at me. I've lost my grace. I've got nothing."

His face fell, and Alex couldn't help but roll her eyes upwards. "If you're looking for pity, you're not getting it from me," she warned, and she lowered her voice as the bartender returned with their drinks. "You stabbed me." Metatron didn't reply, and Alex stifled a sigh. "Alright, fine. You said you knew who Chuck was. How? Have you known this whole fucking time?"

Metatron hesitated, and he drew out the silence by reaching for his margarita. "No," he finally admitted. "Actually, he came to me just last week. I had no idea." He chuckled, but the humor was quick to die. "What has he told you?"

"Uh, not much of anything, I guess. He sings a lot." Alex narrowed her eyes as she thought, and after a moment, she added, "He seems set on taking on Amara, which is good."

"He what?" Metatron leaned towards her, and Alex reeled back. "He said that? With those exact words?"

"Uh, sort of. Pretty much." Alex shook out her wings as she settled back down in her seat. "Why?" Metatron didn't respond; his face darkened as he fell into a pensive silence, and Alex tapped on the bartop. "What? You think he isn't going to actually do it?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, no." Metatron shook his head, and he took a small sip of his drink; after a moment, Alex did the same, her feathers curling at the taste. "He's — he's going to —" The scribe struggled with his words. "He's gonna ... meet with her. He's just not gonna take her down. He's going to ... sacrifice himself. Let her do whatever she wants with him."

"Yeah right." Alex slammed down half of her drink with a loud scoff, but her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "Are you ... did he tell you that?"

"Not exactly." Metatron turned to rummage around through the old leather bag that was slung across the back of his seat, and Alex wrinkled her nose at the odor that arose from its contents. "Here." He heaved a bound paper stack upon onto the bar. "Ignore the typos, but go ahead and read it. It's in his own words." He slid it closer to Alex, and the angel flipped through the typed pages with a frown. "It's not an autobiography. It's a suicide note."

"You're joking." Alex's grace twisted inside of her, and she reached down to pluck at the cold ball of Lucifer's grace, a pit in her stomach. "I — can I take this?"

"Take it. On one condition." Metatron's hand came to rest on the manuscript, and Alex's grey eyes narrowed. "Let me come with. Let's face it — Chuck's given up. You're going to need all the help that you can get." His face darkened as Alex hesitated, and he added, "Look, I watched God create this place — I wrote its secrets down myself. I know what makes Amara tick."

"You —" Alex's teeth clicked as she slammed her jaw shut, and she drew in a breath through her nose to calm herself. "Okay. Look, you want to help? Amara has Lucifer, and we need him back."

Metatron's face went blank, quickly replaced by a smug smile. "You're not — you are, aren't you? You're back with him." His head tipped back as he chuckled, and Alex's fingers curled into fists as she waited for him to gather his senses. "Poor Castiel. How did he take it?"

Alex's wings bristled, and she clenched her teeth even as she reached down to desperately tug at Lucifer's grace. "He's the one who let Lucifer out. He's the vessel. And none of that's the point. Lucifer is — apart from Chuck and Amara — he's the strongest thing on this planet, and for once, he's on our side." Her hands dropped to her lap, and her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. "Chuck thinks he's going to join Amara, but I know he hasn't. I could feel his pain before he tied himself off, but even now I feel ... I can just feel it in my bones." Her jaw trembled, and Alex turned her eyes up. "So Chuck is — is what? He's going to give up let Amara ..." Alex placed a hand on the manuscript, running her fingertips over the rough paper.

"He's going to give himself over to her, I guess." Metatron offered up a shrug before he waved the bartender over with a loud, "Hey! Keep 'em coming." If he caught sight of Alex's frown, it didn't show. "He wants to trade himself in place of creation."

"Noble, but stupid." Alex's hand clenched, and the pages crinkled. "Amara's not looking for a trade — she wants to kill him and everything he made. He's the only one strong enough to kill her, and if he just gives up —"

Her hand jerked back as Metatron snatched the manuscript away, and her broken wings flicked in an apology as he smoothed down the wrinkled cover. "All the more reason to get Lucifer back," he agreed, stuffing the book back into his bag. "And to utilize my offer for help."

His words rang true in the angel's ears, but she still managed a scoff. "I can't just bring you back to the bunker. Dean —"

"What's more important?" Metatron leaned forward, and even though his voice was soft, his words rang clear over the clamor of the bar. "Dean, or everything else in existence?"

The old building that sat atop the Men of Letters' bunker glowed in the light of the half moon, its shadows dancing across the surrounding fields as Alex turned the Marquis up the dirt driveway. The car's headlights cut through the darkness to illuminate a solitary figure; they stood beside the bunker's exterior stairs, arms crossed, and Alex felt her wings draw in tight as the car rolled to a stop. She could almost smell Metatron's anxiety, but the scribe hid his trepidation well as he stepped out into the night. "Sam. Good to see you."

Sam's nostrils flared, and his eyes turned across the car in search of Alex. "Are you sure about this?"

"He says he can help us find Lucifer — which is more than Chuck is planning to do." Alex's gaze flickered past Sam towards the bunker door. "Did you tell Dean we were coming?"

"Yeah, and he's not happy about it. Come on." Sam waved them after him, and Alex took up the rear as they entered the bunker. She could hear Dean talking in the room below; his voice echoed on the concrete walls, cutting off when they entered. Sam led the way down the stairs, casting a glare back towards Metatron as he reached the landing. "Alright, Metatron, be quick." He circled around to sit down at the war room table beside his brother. "And don't touch anything."

"Fine." Metatron's gaze swept the room, and he grinned as it landed on Dean. "Dean! Thanks for inviting me."

"I agreed to let you in." Dean's green eyes darkened as he glanced over at Alex, and the angel flicked a wingtip in his direction. "That's not inviting you."

Metatron's attention had already wavered, and Dean's jaw ticked as the scribe turned onto the prophet, who sat at the head of the table. "Oh! Donatello!" Metatron let out a small, gleeful laugh as he extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Metatron, scribe of God." Donatello slowly moved to shake his hand, and the scribe added, "I was there when you were designed. I wrote your name on the inside of the angel's' eyelids."

Donatello's eyes widened, and his chair creaked as he turned toward Dean. "He's freaking me out."

Dean scowled. "Okay. You said you wanted to help. Besides world-class douchery, what do you have to offer?"

"You didn't tell him?" Metatron's voice grew high in faux-indignation, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Well, let's see. I only transcribed the tablets and know all of its spells, and I know what makes Amara tick." He dropped down into the open seat beside Donatello, leaning forward so he could look Dean in the eyes. "And don't forget, I worked with the big guy for eons. Shall I keep going?"

He reached for an open beer that sat upon the table, but Sam surged forward, snatching it out of Metatron's hands. "Ah! That's mine!" He set the beer down in front of him before he turned to Dean. "As much as I hate to admit it, I think Alex made the right call. Maybe he can help."

Dean scoffed, and Metatron folded his arms on the table. "Listen, bub. You need all the help you can get — even douchey help."

Dean's eyes flashed, but he managed to keep his voice under control. "And since when did you jump on the God wagon?" he asked. "You never used to give a damn."

"Well, I didn't — at one time. Now that he's gone all kamikaze, leaving us with the Darkness —" He paused when the Winchesters exchanged looks. "Oh, she didn't tell you about Chuck's plan?"

Eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel reluctantly dropped down into the seat next to Metatron. "I was waiting until we were here," she muttered. "Chuck's not going to fight the Darkness, guys. He's going to surrender to her. A deal, I guess. Him for creation."

Sam's eyebrows knit together in silent confusion, but Dean's hand came down onto the table with a loud thwack. "Deal?" he repeated. "Amara's just going to eliminate him, and then she's gonna destroy everything else!"

Alex shrugged, and Metatron heaved a sigh. "Trust me, we know. I was by his side since creation. He believed in me. If there's something I can do to help him and his creation then, uh ... it seems like I should."

Dean's face darkened, and Alex grace flipped inside of her as the silence grew. A wing curled forward across the table to brush against Dean's shoulder; whether the Winchester felt it or not, the action had him stirring from his thoughts. "The plan is to rescue Lucifer from Amara," he finally announced. "Then he can teleport us out of Amara's hideout and we convince Chuck to use him to fight her."

"That's your plan?" Metatron scoffed, and Dean's eyes narrowed. "Do you even know where Amara is?"

Alex caught Sam's gaze to find her own apprehension and disappointment dancing across his face. Dean was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Um, I might know where she is. I've been getting this vibe. Uh, like a ping in my cerebral cortex."

"Oh, so either Amara or a stroke." Metatron let out a wry chuckle, but the humor faded at the Winchesters' stony faces. "And how exactly are we supposed to keep Amara busy while we're ... liberating Lucifer?"

"I'll distract her." Dean dragged the words out, and Alex fidgeted in her seat. "She'll talk to me, and that'll give you all a chance to get in and out without her even knowing." He paused, but when no one protested, he pushed himself to his feet. "Alright. I'm going to go talk to Chuck. You all should go and get some sleep. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

He left, and Alex waited until he was gone before her eyes darted around the room, searching for someone to meet her gaze as her teeth dig into bee bottom lip. She found Sam, and the Winchester's face darkened to match hers before he rose. "Uh, you heard him." He pushed in his chair, adding, "Try and get some sleep." The words were directed at Donatello, but his eyes rested on Alex, and the angel stifled a sigh, nodding out her agreement as the Winchester walked away.

Westport, Massachusetts

The Impala roared down the deserted road, tearing across the cracked pavement and depraved potholes. Alex sat in the front seat, her hands toying with her phone. Her grace enveloped Lucifer's, clenching tight in hopes to break through the knot, but it felt as hard as steel. She shifted on the seat, stifling another impatient sigh. "Are we getting close?" The words blurted out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she cast a look over her shoulder with an apologetic grimace.

Metatron and Donatello sat in the backseat; the prophet was pressed as close to the door as he could possibly manage, his shoulders hunched as he tried to bury himself in a book, but Alex could see how his eyes scanned the page over and over again, never flipping onto the next. "We should be getting close." Metatron, in contrast, lounged in his seat, the only sign of his discomfort a faint flicker in his pale eyes. "What do you think, Sam?"

Alex turned to the Winchester beside her, her wings twitching when the hunter didn't immediately answer. She tugged again on Lucifer's grace, trying in vain to follow it out of her body towards him, but the thread dwindled to nothing at the edge of her grace. "We're almost there," Sam finally said, and Alex craned her head to peer off down the road. "Let's hope Dean has already drawn Amara away."

Donatello stifled a squeak, and Alex huffed. "Remind me why exactly we brought him?" she muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear. "He didn't believe in ghosts three days ago — he's not ready to go out on something like this."

"He's the only one who can sense Amara. He'll tell us if she's close." The car jerked as Sam accelerated over a crack in the road, and his jaw set. "Look, I don't like bringing civilians in on this, either, but you and I both know he's more than just that. There." He pointed down the road, and Alex's head snapped forward in time to see an old factory appear through the trees. "That's got to be it."

Alex's fingers went to her seat buckle, fidgeting with the latch as she waited for the Impala to drive through the broken gate and stop along the rusted silo. She reached for the door the second the engine died, but Sam's hand caught her by the jacket. "Hey." He pulled her back, and Alex's fist curled as she resisted yanking free. "I want you to check the perimeter, okay? You're the only one who can see wardings. We'll meet you inside."

Alex's mouth fell open, ready to snap, but she could feel her throat tightening, constricting around her words. The car doors slammed shut all around her, her silence taken for acquiescence, and Alex bolted out of the car. The three men had paused beside the trunk, crowded together as Sam once again repeated the plan, but the angel didn't stop to listen. Her feet carried her towards the door before she caught herself; it took a moment, but she forced her feet to carry her down the uneven concrete that surrounded the building.

The steel that served as the walls had rusted and bubbled, and Alex carefully skirted a small side shed that had completely collapsed inwards. She lifted her grace to her eyes, but nothing before her seemed to change. A shiver passed up her spine as she circled around the back; was Amara overconfident in the security of this hiding place, or was this a trap?

The thought vanished from her mind as she reached the front again. Sam and the others were gone, but a voice could be heard through the open door. "— wow. It's one of Dad's favorites. Your ticket finally got punched, huh?" Lucifer let out a rasping chuckle, and Alex's feet carried her through the door.

What exactly the archangel was suspended on, Alex wasn't tell. It looked manmade, constructed of wood and rivets, but the rotted wooden poles that supported Lucifer's wrists were unlike anything she had seen. They held his arms out and suspended him in the air; only the tips of his toes reached the wooden platform upon which he was situated. She watched as Lucifer's wings twitched at his side as he looked down at Donatello; it wasn't until the dirt beneath Alex's feet crunched that his head turned, and the weary humor died from his bloody face. His eyes narrowed, and a growl rumbled in his chest. "Who let you come along?"

"I chose to come along." Alex moved past Sam to circle around Lucifer, and she added, "We're getting you out of here." Nothing bound him to the wooden structure, but her grace could feel the spellwork from where she

"Well, it seems fair since I wouldn't be here if you lunatics hadn't set me up to be grabbed by Amara." Lucifer's wings shuddered as Alex's hands brushed across them, and he clicked his tongue. "You can't just break me free," he warned.

Alex reached out to touch the contraption to which the archangel was tethered, and it leapt to life beneath her fingertips, burning at her grace. She jerked her hand back with a shout, and Lucifer's grace immediately arose to soothe the pain; the knot came undone, and with it came a tidal wave of agony. Alex's legs collapsed, and she hit the dirt-packed ground with a thud. "Hey!" Sam hurried to her side, and Alex grunted as Lucifer's grace recoiled and hid behind its wall. "I'm fine." Alex pushed off Sam's help as she struggled back to her feet. "I just ..."

She shook her head, falling silent as her eyes turned back to Lucifer, and Sam's narrow face twisted in a scowl. "Alright, Lucifer. You're gonna help us take Amara down. If you say no, we'll just leave you hear in Abu Graib."

"Sam —!"

Alex's exclamation was cut short by Lucifer's chuckle. "Say no?" he repeated, and his laughter broke into a wet cough that rattled in his chest. "You see what she's done to me? Do I look like a fan?"

Sam gave a curt nod, and Metatron moved to stand at Lucifer's side, his eyes squeezed out as he began muttering under his breath. Donatello retreated behind Sam, and Alex circled back to stand in front of Lucifer, one hand planted on his chest. Blood stained the collar of his coat, and his lips curled in a pained snarl as Alex pushed her grace up against his. "I was worried Amara was going to kill you," she murmured.

Lucifer scoffed, his bruised and bloodied face scrunching in pain at the action. "Kill me?" he repeated, and his grace pressed back against hers, forcing it back into her body. "I was her bargaining chip. If torturing me couldn't drag the big guy out of hiding ..." Alex glanced back at Sam, and she felt Lucifer's chest vibrate beneath her fingertips. "What?" He blinked blood out of his eyes as he looked down at the four of them. "You —" His teeth flashed in a grin. "You mean the big man actually showed?"

"Yeah, he's back. And he's got a really stupid plan." Metatron's mumblings picked up, and Alex forced herself to step away with a flick of her wings. "Come on, Metatron. Hurry it up."

"You understand you'll be working with your father," Sam said, and his arms folded across his chest as Alex circled back around Lucifer. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Alex paused by his back, and she reached out to touch his wings; even they appeared dull. They shuddered violently beneath her fingers, and Lucifer couldn't hold back a low groan. "That's family," he got out through gritted teeth. "This — this is bigger. Stop," he hissed when Alex pressed her grace up against his, and Alex's wings drew in tight at his tone. "Listen. What happens in heaven stays in heaven, alright? Just get me out of here before she comes back."

"Metatron, are we getting any closer?" Sam's hands fell back to his side as he paced behind the scribe. "Dean can't stall forever."

"I'm narrowing it down." Metatron barely spared Sam a glance before he returned to his recitation, and Alex retreated to Sam's side, her hands drumming on her thighs as she waited. She felt Sam's hand rest on her shoulder, his fingertips rubbing tight circles into her muscles to relieve her tension as much as fight off his own.

She could tell the moment Metatron's spell worked. The air grew colder, and Lucifer's grace swelled within her, still tightly knotted but strong and fluid. Lucifer groaned, and his wings sagged against his back. "Hey!" Alex tore herself free from Sam's grasp as she rushed forward. Lucifer's head lolled back as he collapsed, and Alex caught him in her arms. "It's okay, I — I got you."

Sam cleared his throat, and Alex jerked her head back, her wings flapping twice as she sought out the Winchester. "Hey, Lucifer, zap us out of here," he snapped. "Quick!"

"Oh, no can do." Lucifer's muscles quivered, and Alex pulled him close, one hand curling in his hair. She pressed her grace into his, and the archangel trembled again as he struggled to sit up. "Looks like I'm temporarily grounded. Equipment malfunction."

"Let me help." Alex tugged on the knot of grace, but it refused to budge. "You can't —"

"G-Guys?" For the first time, Donatello spoke, and Alex's head snapped up. His eyes were stretched wide, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. "I-I'm feeling her! She's coming!"

"Alright, we gotta get out of here." Sam hauled Lucifer to his feet, and Alex jumped up to help the Winchester support the archangel. Donatello hurried ahead of them, his eyes darting between them and the door. "Metatron, come on!"

The scribe hadn't moved from where he stood beside the wooden contraption, and Alex couldn't help out her wings flapped impatiently. "It's okay, Sam." Metatron's eyes turned around the room, and his jaw quavered before he clenched it. "You go."

"What?" Sam spun around, and Alex pulled Lucifer out of his grip, her teeth grit as she guided the stumbling archangel towards the car. "Come on!"

"I'm serious. I got this."

"Sam!" Alex paused in the doorway, her toes curling in her shoes. "We need to go now." Her eyes met Metatron's, and the scribe's head dipped in a small, barely there nod. Lucifer stumbled, and Alex tore her gaze away to help him to the car.

He collapsed into the backseat, his wings limp, and Alex bent to tuck his legs in so she could crawl in beside him. "Front," she heard Sam order, and she slammed the door behind her as Donatello jumped into the passenger seat.

The engine roared to life, and Alex pressed her hands into Lucifer's chest as the Impala tore off towards the road. "Hey, hey, hey." Lucifer's eyes had rolled into the back of his head, and Alex pressed her grace inwards; her nails dug into his skin at how his grace churned against hers, a biting winter's wind. "Hold on," she begged, and her throat stung as the archangel's eyes flickered shut. "It's going to be okay. Just — just let me in."

The Impala flew over a hill, and Alex's wings flared out, smacking into the metal roof as the car jostled. She opened her mouth, ready to snap, but the words died in her throat as they rounded the bend. Amara stood in the middle of the road, her pale skin glowing in the sunlight. Tires screeched, and Alex wrapped her arms around Lucifer as they were thrown forward against the back of the front seat. The car groaned as it came to a sudden stop. "Sam!" Alex heard her own voice rise in a shout — to her surprise, Lucifer's arms enveloped her and pulled her into his chest.

She heard the tires squealing against the pavement, but the car refused to move, held still by Amara's outstretched hand. "You really aren't worth saving." Her voice rang clearly through the cab of the car. "None of you." Her fingers curled into a fist, and Alex buried her head in Lucifer's chest.

Then the Impala jerked, and the sunlight vanished. Alex could still feel her limbs, could feel her wings, and after a moment, she cracked open her eyes. Concrete walls surrounded the car, lit by familiar incandescent lights. "No." Alex's voice cracked, and she untangled herself from Lucifer's grip as she reached for the door. "No way."

"Where — where are we?" Donatello stumbled out of the car, coughing at the smoke from the tires. Alex didn't answer, too busy on helping Lucifer crawl out of the backseat, but the answer sat on the tip of her tongue, along with a thousand other questions.

"We're home." Wonder filled Sam's voice as he started towards the hall, and Alex slipped her shoulder under Lucifer's arm as they followed. "We're back at the bunker."

The hallway opened up to the war room, and Alex felt Lucifer stiffen as they passed through the doorway. Chuck stood beside the table, his eyes a mixture of worry and faint amusement. "Occasionally, I do answer a prayer." He set a six-pack of beer down upon the table and took one for himself, and Lucifer stumbled forward out of Alex's arms as Chuck cracked open his drink. His wings trembled under the strain of supporting himself, and he leaned up against a concrete pillar as his father's eyes turned onto him. "You've changed."

The archangel sniffed, a noise that sounded more pained than scornful. "You've changed," he retorted, and the arches of his wings lifted in defiance as Alex moved forward to steady him.

"Well, still ... I'm really pretty much the same." Chuck snapped his fingers, and Lucifer shuddered as a bright light enveloped him. The bruises and cuts faded from his skin, and even though the archangel suppressed a gasp, Alex could feel the flash of warmth that coursed through his ice-cold grace. "Your brother's outside," Chuck told Sam, and his attention widened to include Alex and Donatello. "Can you three give us a moment?"

Sam immediately beelined towards the bunker door, Donatello close on his heels, but Lucifer caught Alex by the arm before she could take a step. "Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of her." Despite the strength in his voice, his grip was frail, and Alex's hand went up to cover his.

Her eyes flickered to Chuck, ready to leave if he protested, but Chuck merely heaved a sigh. "We can go up to the library." Alex tugged on Lucifer's hand, urging him around the table and up the short flight of stairs; his footing had grown stronger, but he still leaned upon her shoulder as they ascended. Chuck followed at a slower pace, and Alex glanced behind her to eye the remaining beers on the table; whatever conversation was going to ensue, a drink would surely make it more bearable.

She waited until Lucifer was on flat ground again before she slipped away, wings drawing in tight as she tried to duck past Chuck; she was stopped before she could pass, and an unopened drink appeared in his extended hand. Alex muttered out her thanks, and she retreated back towards Lucifer. The archangel had picked up a book, his attention seemingly on the pages, but Alex could feel the sullen anger that thrummed through his being. "So," he finally began, "where were you?"

"That's a ..." Alex felt Chuck's gaze land on her as he paused, and he sighed. "It's a long story. How do you feel? I healed you."

"Mm." Lucifer's wings merely flicked, but his grace thrashed within him. "Yeah. Didn't ask you to."

Alex sunk down into a chair in the corner of the room, flinching as her beer opened with a loud pop. Lucifer's book snapped shut as his gaze swung over to her, his brow knit together, but Chuck kept his back to her as he leaned up against the table. "Son, be reasonable."

"One cosmic band-aid on my knee and, what, you think we're even now?" Lucifer's eyes flashed as he turned to his father, but Chuck didn't flinch away. "Is it time for us to go play catch in the yard?" Chuck frowned, and Lucifer scowled. "Screw you." He dropped his attention back down onto the book, and Alex turned her head as she heard the bunker door open.

"Guys?" Dean's voice echoed through the room, and she pushed herself to her feet, thankful for the distraction. The brothers were descending the bunker stairs, and Alex hurried out to meet them before they could reach the library.

"Hey," she greeted. "They're still ... talking. More of fighting, actually," she added in a low voice.

Lucifer's grace twisted within her, beckoning her back. "Listen," she heard Chuck begin, and the angel reluctantly made her way back into the library, "I know I've been gone awhile. I've missed a few ... million ... birthdays —"

"Yeah, and the second your apes send a distress signal, boom. Daddy's home." Lucifer's grace twisted harder, and Alex skirted past Chuck to inch closer to the archangel, making sure not to come between the two.

"That's not what happened —"

"Hey." Dean appeared in the library doorway, Sam at his side. "These apes saved your ass."

Lucifer's face twisted in a scowl, and his fingers snapped as his grace exploded within him. Alex rushed forward to stay his hand, but the surge of power never passed his skin. She heard Sam inhaled, a breathless gasp, but Lucifer's rage never reached him. The archangel's scowl darkened, and Alex pressed her hand into his chest, her fingers curling in his shirt in a silent, panicked plea.

"He can't hurt you." Chuck's words cut the tension, and it snapped.

"Oh, so you're controlling me now!" Lucifer's wings lashed at the air, and Alex shied away, pressing herself closer to his chest to avoid getting caught in the crosshairs of his feathers.

Sam and Dean jumped back; only Chuck remained still in the face of the archangel's anger. "It's just a safeguard."

Lucifer's eyes glinted like ice, and Alex flexed her hand, trying to break his gaze and draw his attention back onto her. "Hey, guys?" Sam finally spoke up, and Alex turned her head to search out his face. He stood next to his brother, his fingers curling nervously at his side as he regarded those in front of him. "Uh, Chuck? Lucifer ..." He waited until all eyes had turned onto him before he cleared his throat. "Think we can try and focus here? Uh, y'know, end of the world, common enemy, all that?"

Lucifer's book snapped shut with a thud, the noise so close to her ear that Alex almost flinched away. "Enemy of my enemy is a friend." He stepped forward, and Alex stumbled to the side, a wordless gasp falling from her lips at how roughly he brushed her aside. He stopped in front of Chuck, and although his wings stayed at his side, his feathers bristled with fury. "So go team Amara."

"You don't mean that."

Lucifer stared down into his father's eyes, and even as his fists clenched at his side, his grace trembled. His voice, however, remained strong and scathing. "You're really not gonna say it." Chuck remained silent, and Lucifer's wings flapped in a single show of emotion. "Fuck you." He spun around and stormed into the hall; with one glance back at Chuck, Alex moved to follow, but Lucifer wheeled around in a flurry of feathers. Don't follow me. The words never breached the air, but Alex still cowered back as if they had been shouted to her face.

She watched Lucifer disappear from sight, her jaw clenched to keep back the tears that had sprung up in the face of his rage. She heard Chuck turn to go, muttering, "Kids, huh?" to Sam and Dean before he too exited in the opposite direction.

The library fell silent, and Alex's muscles trembled as she felt Sam's hand come to rest on her shoulder. She could feel his hesitation and when he spoke, his voice was soft. "Hey, listen, we'll, uh, we'll take care of Chuck if you want to talk with —"

"No." Alex's hand went up to brush against's Sam's knuckles, and she quickly pulled it down again as a shiver passed up her wings; was her voice shaking as much as she was? "I — I think I'm going to give him some space." Sam's hand squeezed gently before he pulled back, and Alex listened as the brothers walk away.

...

So, next week is the last week that I'll be posting! There will be one more chapter in this book, and then on Thursday I'll post the final chapter as a prologue for the next season in its own work. Unfortunately, as an adult with a full-time job and other life commitments, I don't know how long the next installment will take, but rest assured, it is coming.