June 5th, 2015
Warsaw, Missouri

The radio crackled through the worn speakers, but Alex barely heard the low, thrumming melody. Her attention was out the window, counting the telephone poles on the side of the road as they were lit up by the Continental's yellowed headlights. She could feel Metatron in the seat behind her, his eyes boring into the back of her skull, and the ex-angel shifted uncomfortably as the car rounded the bend on the highway.

"Our flashback playback continues with a song that climbed all the way to number four on the charts," the radio hummed. "Here's Alanis Morisette's 'Ironic'."

"Really?" Alex turned, surprised at the sudden and loud complaint from the scribe behind her as Castiel leaned over to flip the radio off. The seat jolted as Metatron leaned forward, his head level with theirs. "That song is a classic." He looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel pointedly turned her gaze back out the window. "Yeah, I hear you," he agreed, and Alex rolled her eyes. "I do. And you're right. Inclement weather on the day of your nuptials and the wrong cutlery at inopportune times is hardly ironic. But it sure is catchy."

Castiel's only answer was a low, barely audible growl, and Metatron fell back into his seat with a chuckle. "Yeah, fair point," he agreed. "Can't argue taste. But since I became human, it's just so ... strange. All these feelings, you know? I mean, I can feel music. Like that last song, 'Sussudio.' I don't even know what it's about and I love it! I always enjoyed lyrics, words, stories. Gives me goosebumps. And Goosebumps — don't even get me started on those. Creepy! And yet ... arousing."

"Can I just kill him now?" Castiel's sharp words had Alex turning to see the seraph on his phone, and the passing streetlight illumined the dark scowl on his face.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Metatron leaned forward again, a frown on his round face, but Castiel paid the scribe no attention.

"Well, I'd like to kill him slowly," he told the person on the other end of the line — Sam, no doubt, and Alex shifted closer, hoping to catch part of the Winchester's familiar voice.

"I am like two feet away from you." The bench seat groaned slightly as Metatron pushed his entire weight against it, and Alex moved away with a barely concealed frown as he leaned even further between the two of them, his face in line with Alex's. "Every word — crystal clear."

"Anything on the Mark of Cain?" Castiel spoke over him, transferring the phone over to his other ear further away from Metatron. Whatever answer he received pulled his lips down into a frown, and Alex toyed with the hem of her jacket as she waited for him to hang up. "There is an answer out there," he promised. "We will find a cure for Dean."

"I don't know why you'd want to cure that little firecracker now." Metatron let out a chuckle, his blue eyes flickering between Castiel and Alex. "He's finally interest — ow!" He fell back onto his seat when Castiel's free hand came out, punching the scribe in the face. "Ooh!"

"Well, just keeping digging," Cas told the Winchester on the other end, and Alex held back a snigger as she glanced over her shoulder to see Metatron holding his bleeding nose. She turned back at Castiel's troubled word. "Sam?"

"Lose reception?" Metatron's smug voice suddenly sounded right next to her ear, and Alex snapped her head back so far it almost collided with the glass window. "Or did he hang up on you?" He chuckled when Castiel didn't answer, his head tipping back in amusement. "He hung up on you, didn't he? Ow!" This time it was Alex's elbow that caught him on the corner of the mouth, and he fell back with a shout of pain, cuffed hands going up to cover his split lip.

"Thanks." Castiel tucked his cellphone back into his pocket, and his hands returned to the steering wheel. "Where's this safe house?" he demanded. "You said we were getting close."

"We are, we are." Metatron's voice was muffled as he spoke through his blood-filled mouth. "It's just up here to the left. Jeez!"

The rusted sign for their turn caught in the Continental's headlights, and Castiel guided the car off of the highway and down the abandoned road. Alex crossed her arms as she rested her head against the glass, eyes scanning the horizon for their destination. A dark shape sat against the skyline, rough and decrepit. "That it?" She pointed off down the road, and she leaned forward as Metatron once again pushed his way in between the two of them to peer through the windshield.

"That would be it," he confirmed. "Just pull up right up next to the door there." He threw open the car door the moment the engine died, and Alex hurried to follow, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dark as she searched for the scribe, fearing he had tried to make a run.

Her pupils dilated wide to let in the watery moonlight, and the tension left her shoulders as she watched Metatron making a beeline towards the door. Castiel was moving after him, and Alex followed, pausing only to grab her weapon from the front seat before taking up the rear.

The door opened easily beneath Metatron's touch, and Alex slowly followed him in. The interior was even darker than the night outside, and the ex-angel fumbled around for a small flashlight in the pocket of her jacket. "Okay, so where's our grace?" she demanded.

"Well ... here's the thing." Metatron's footsteps echoed loudly through the empty room, and Alex pursed her lips, already frustrated at whatever words were to come. "I don't exactly remember which safe house I put it in. I think it was this one, but ..."

"But you don't know." The beam of her flashlight swept over the dusty interior. "Okay, well, where would you have hidden it if this was the place?"

"Upstairs, probably. There's an office." Metatron jerked his head behind him, and Alex turned her flashlight down towards the hallway. "If your grace is here, it's up there — ouch!" He frowned over at Castiel as the seraph shoved him towards the door. "Watch it!"

Metatron limped off towards the stairway, still favoring his injured leg, and Alex followed, jaw squared to try and quell the nervous thudding in her chest. She could be minutes away from breaking her deal. From regaining her wings. The muscles in her shoulders quivered in excitement, and Alex immediately pushed the thought away as she bounded up the stairs. "Where is it?" She pushed past the scribe to stand in the middle of the room, her flashlight turning across the empty room.

"Huh." The scribe's noise of surprise had her turning back, light shining on his face, and Metatron squinted against the brightness. "This doesn't look familiar."

"It doesn't ..." Alex trailed off, flashlight turning onto Castiel as the angel joined them in the room. "It's not here."

"It was — it might have been," Metatron corrected. "But it is definitely not here anymore." He turned back towards the stairs with a light-hearted shrug. "Well, onto the next one, I suppose. Come on." His voice faded slightly as he started off down the stairs. "The next stop is a state over. I call shotgun!"

"You're not getting shotgun." Alex ground out the words through gritted teeth, but her statement went unheard by both Metatron and Castiel, who followed the scribe back down the stairs with a weary shake of his head. Alex's head fell forward and, with a sigh, she followed.

"Mmm. Can you smell that?" Metatron's grating voice had Alex's head falling against the hard wooden table of their booth. "Now, that — that — is the essence of humanity."

"It smells like pancakes." The words were muffled by the table top, pressed firmly against her face, and Alex felt Castiel's hand rub reassuring circles into her back. Comforted by the gesture, she straightened back up with a shake of her head. "Humanity ... smells like blood and feces. Nothing like this."

"Ah!" Her words went unheard as their breakfast arrived, and Metatron's eyes lit up as a platter of waffles were slid in front of him, piled high with whipped cream and berries. "Wonderful."

"Thanks." Alex accepted her omelette with a nod towards their petite waitress, doing her best to ignore the rumble in her stomach at the sight of her food. Her muscles ached, displeased at the long night spent in the car, and she stifled a groan as she reached for her cutlery. They had driven for ten hours straight, stopping only to search two more of Metatron's so-called safe houses, which, like the first, had both turned up empty.

"Mmmm!" The scribe's groan of pleasure had her exchanging a disgusted look with her mate. "O-M ... Me! Oh, food. Glorious food." He shoved a second bite into his mouth, humming in delight. "All the countless descriptions in so many books, but those are just words. Oh, the taste, the — the actual taste ... I had no idea." His knife dug back into his breakfast, and Alex slowly did the same, carefully lifting a portion of her omelette to her lips. "Oh, and the process," Metatron continued, and Castiel shifted impatiently beside her, his hands folded on the table before him. "It goes in here ... comes out here." Alex didn't need to look up to imagine the gestures that accompanied his words, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. "Sorcery."

"It's really not," she muttered around her mouthful, but the scribe didn't pause in his monologue to answer her.

"I mean, you used to be human," he added to Castiel. "Don't you miss all this?"

"No." The answer was short and taut with barely disguised frustration. "I don't miss digestion. I don't miss indigestion."

"No, no, no." Metatron gestured to Castiel with his fork. "Not that. I mean, don't you miss the feeling of all this? Like the taste of these waffles. The sound of a child's laughter. Look at us." His gesture widened to include Alex. "We're three angels who've not only touched the divine, but the mundane. The three of us a lot in common."

"Don't."

"What?" Metatron pouted at Alex's snap. "I thought we were having a moment. Can't we all be besties?"

"No." Castiel glanced around the restaurant before he lowered his voice. "Because you killed my friend."

"Pfft." The scribe waved off the seraph's concern. "Dean is fine ... mostly. Can't you get past that?" He pulled off another bite of his food, shoveling it into his mouth with loud, happy moan.

"Never." Castiel shifted again on the booth, clearing his throat as he quickly changed the subject before Metatron could empty his mouth to comment. "Now, we've hit three of your so-called safe houses, and all of them are empty. So either you've lost our grace, or you're stalling."

Metatron chuckled, his white teeth flashing in amusement. "Can you blame me? The minute I hand over your grace, I'm dead." He motioned between Castiel and Alex with a bite of waffle impaled on his fork. "I'm just trying to decide who I'd rather have do it."

"You've made your bed, Metatron, and nothing is going to get you out of it ..." Castiel's impatience fell away as the scribe's face twisted in discomfort, and Alex tipped her head at the sound of his stomach gurgling. "What are you doing?"

"I think I need to use the little boys' room." The words came out slightly rushed, laced with pain, and Metatron held out his cuffed hands to the both of them. "Little help?"

Alex felt Castiel's eyes turn onto her, and she met his gaze with a shrug, shoving her fork down into the remainder of her food as the seraph reluctantly rose to his feet. The two disappeared towards the back of the restaurant, following the signs for the bathroom, and with a sigh, the ex-angel turned her attention onto finishing her meal; who knows when Castiel would allow them to stop and eat again.

Flannel flashed in the corner of her eye, and Alex lifted her head to watch one of the men who sat at the counter rise to his feet. Their eyes met momentarily, and the young hunter quickly looked away, unnerved by the coldness that sat within his gaze. Her skin tingled, a sure sign from years of exposure to know that this man wasn't human. She turned her face down onto her meal, toes curling nervously as she prayed the man wasn't a demon; if Crowley knew she was on the road with Castiel and Metatron, she had no doubt she would never get her grace back.

Her apprehension stalled her appetite, but the ex-angel forced herself to eat half of what remained on her plate before finally giving up and laying the fork down.

Her phone buzzed, and Alex jumped to answer it, her eyebrows lifting in surprise to see Sam's name upon the screen. "Hey, Sam," she greet, pressing the device up against her ear. "What's up?"

"Uh, we're on the road to meet up with Charlie. Looks like she found the Book of the Damned, but something's tracking her down. I'm just calling to check in. How's things going?" A distant voice could be heard beneath Sam's words, and Sam quickly added, "Dean says hi, by the way."

"Tell him hi back." Alex leaned back in the booth, choosing her words carefully with the knowledge that Dean was in the car too. "Uh, everything's fine. We're moving east, but there hasn't been much of anything yet. I'll keep you updated, though."

"Sounds good. Say, uh, did you know — apparently Rowena is Crowley's mother."

"Oh yeah, I knew that." Alex picked up her fork to slide around pieces of her omelette as she spoke. " How'd you guys find out? Why were you talking with Crowley?"

"When we were at the, uh, the movie, Dean ran into Rowena. Apparently she tried to kill him because we're a, um ... a 'good influence' on Crowley." Sam paused only mometarily before adding, "Crowley met up with Dean afterwards and dropped it on him."

"Son of a ..." Alex's forked scraped against her plate, and she let it fall back onto the table. "So now Crowley's letting her wander off on her own? I told him ..." She trailed off with a shake of her head and a sigh. "But Dean's okay, right?"

"Dean's fine," Sam promised. "Hey, after you, you know, get where you're going, we could definitely use your help over here."

"Sure thing. I'll keep you updated." Alex felt her phone buzz against her ear, and she pulled it away long enough to catch a glimpse of a new text from Castiel. "Listen, I need to get going. You two stay safe."

Sam echoed her farewell and hung up, and Alex lowered her phone to read the new message from her mate. I felt an angel nearby. We're leaving out the back. Follow us.

Alex dug a handful of cash out of her pocket and dropped it on the table, not bothering to count it out as she rose to her feet and hurried towards the back of the restaurant. She could see the door closing, a flash of tan signaling the presence of Castiel, and her feet carried her out into the back alley. The Lincoln Continental was parked around the corner, and she lengthened her stride to walk at her mate's side. "Sorry about the mess," she heard Metatron say. "Guess I'm lactose intolerant."

"Let's never speak of it again ..." Castiel trailed off as he stopped, his face going blank with surprise.

A man was leaning up against the side of the golden car, and Alex immediately ducked behind her mate as she recognized the stranger as the man from the restaurant. "Demon?" she hissed, and her heart skipped a beat as she waited for the man's eyes to flash black.

"Well, well. Metatron, Alex, and Castiel. This really must be my lucky day." The man stepped away from the car as he reached into his jacket, and Alex's shoulders dropped slightly in relief at the sight of a silver angel blade. "Three birds, one blade."

The weapon glinted in the light, and Castiel dropped his hold on Metatron to draw his own sword defensively. "Who are you?" he demanded, and Alex's hand found her weapon, twisting it in her hands as she warily eyed the stranger.

"Just a cupid," the man promised. "Just an angry, angry cupid."

Castiel shifted backwards as the cupid approached, and Alex sidestepped with a frown to find he was backing up to shield her. "I understand you're upset," he began, but the man cut him off with a scoff.

"You corrupted heaven," he spat. "It's never going to be the same!" His weapon flashed through the air, and Alex leapt out of the way as Castiel backpedaled to fend off the attack. Metatron threw himself to the ground, his hands covering his head, and Alex paused only long enough to make sure that the scribe was not planning on running before she jumped back into the fray.

The cupid spun away from her blow, and Alex barely had time to duck as the angel blade flashed across the space her neck had occupied mere moments before. She used her momentum to throw herself into the cupid's chest in an attempt to knock him down, but the angel caught her by the collar of her jacket. The ground disappeared from beneath her feet as Alex was flung through the air, and she grunted as she hit the hood of the Lincoln Continental, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs.

Her head spun, the ringing in her ears almost drowning out the thud of Castiel hitting the ground, and the ex-angel forced her body to roll off of the car as white light lit up the alleyway. "Cas?" She pushed herself to her feet, eyes sweeping the scene, and she felt relief pulse through her veins as her mate shoved the corpse of the cupid to the ground. Metatron stood above them, a bloodied angel blade in his hands, and Alex approached cautiously as the scribe stared down at the seraph. Metatron hesitated only momentarily before he turned the weapon around, the hilt pointed towards Castiel. "I owed you that one, anyways," he said as Castiel took hold of the blade.

"This changes nothing." The seraph growled out the words as he pushed himself to his feet, and Alex lifted her chin as he crossed the alleyway towards her.

"You're welcome," she heard Metatron call from behind them, and Castiel paused at her side to tuck his weapon back into his coat.

"Are you okay?" The seraph's words were barely audible, and Alex gave a small nod. Satisfied, Castiel pulled open the car door, and Alex bent down to pick up her weapon before following her mate. She paused beside the passenger side door to watch Metatron slowly pick his way past the body. "Hurry up," she heard Castiel snap, but the scribe merely rolled his eyes.

"I just saved your life," Metatron reminded. "And what do I get — not even a thank you?"

"You said the next safe house was nearby." Castiel pulled open the door for the scribe, pushing down on his head to shove Metatron into the back seat unceremoniously. "How far away is it?"

"It's two towns over. The old local library." Metatron sunk into the leather seats, the playful tone leaving his voice. "That's our next stop." His handcuffs clinked as he dropped his hands into his lap, and Alex exchanged an exasperated look with Castiel as she climbed in after the scribe.

"Why did you think that cupid was a demon?" The engine started as Castiel spoke, and Alex looked over at him in surprise.

"What?" she asked before she could stop herself, and she shook her head before Castiel could repeat the question. "I — I can't exactly tell angel from demon as a human. A-And I guess I'm scared that Crowley's going to catch on before we find our grace."

She glanced over her shoulder, and Metatron's head recoiled in faux-shock. "Well don't look at me," he insisted. "I don't want that arrogant prick getting the drop on us anymore than you two."

"Good." Alex slouched down against her seat, arms folded across her chest as she scowled. "Anyways, it sounds like Crowley's preoccupied with the witch Rowena, so hopefully he won't even be aware of where I am." The Continental shifted into gear, and the car lurched forward towards the street.

Blaine, Missouri

Castiel didn't speak the entire drive, and Alex spent the time staring out the window, her fingers dancing nervously along the hem of her jacket. Even Metatron was quiet, having given up on making conversation ten minutes ago. Now, he only spoke up to give the seraph directions or point out some interesting slogan he saw on a passing billboard. "Ah!" His sudden noise had Alex looking up in time to see the scribe pointing off towards an exit ramp. "There. The library is going to be up there and to the left."

Castiel obediently guided the car off of the highway, and Alex leaned forward as she searched for the building that the scribe spoke up. The faded white sign for the Petersburg Library caught her eye, but before she could speak up, Castiel turned into the parking lot. "Okay, get out." He turned off the engine and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Alex followed, pausing only long enough for the seraph to yank Metatron onto the cracked pavement before she led the way towards the door.

It was locked, and she waited impatiently for Castiel to unlock it with her grace before she pushed her way inside. "Oh, come on." At the sound of his muttered words, Alex turned to fall in step beside her mate. "You expect me to believe that you hid my grace in a library?"

"Nobody goes to libraries anymore," Metatron promised, taking the lead. "It's the safest place in the world."

Alex flicked on the lights, and the large, cluttered room came into view. Books were everywhere, every shelf packed tight. "I can feel our grace." Castiel's breath stirred her hair, and she turned her head to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception. "It's here," he promised, raising his voice for Metatron to hear, "but you've hidden it somehow. Where is it?"

"Honesty? I have no idea." Metatron jumped down the half staircase, his handcuffs clinking slightly, and he let out a shout of surprise when Castiel followed, roughly shoving the scribe down into an empty chair and pinning him there by the shoulder. "Aah!"

His face contorted in pain as Castiel dug his fingers into the scribe's bandaged bullet wound, easing up slightly as his lips turned up in a snarl. "Where is it?" he demanded, and Metatron shrieked again as his words were emphasized by a sharp squeeze.

"Gah! I don't know, I swear!" Metatron flinched away from Castiel's anger, and Alex moved to stand at her mate's side, hands shoved into her pockets as she surveyed Metatron's face; if the pain laced through his features was an indicator of anything, the words he was saying were genuine. "I had another angel hide it, even from me —!" He shouted again as Castiel's finger dug deeper into the bandage, fresh blood welling up beneath his nails. "You know, in case someone tries to torture the information out of me!" he finished with a snarl. "Case in point!"

Castiel pulled away, leaving the scribe seething in his seat. "Where is my grace?" he repeated, and Alex reached up to put a calming hand upon his shoulder.

"I told the angel to hide some clues in some of my favorite books." Metatron ground his teeth as he held up his hands in a gesture of pleading innocence. "Mother, may I?" When Castiel merely scowled, Metatron pushed himself to his feet and limped off towards the shelves. Castiel and Alex followed, watching warily as he pulled a dark blue book from its home.

He reached to open the front cover, but then Castiel was there, yanking the book out of his hands. A yellowed note sat tucked in among the first few pages, and the seraph let the book fall to the ground as he unfolded it. " 'What is the maddest thing a man can do?' " he read with a frown. "It's a riddle? What — what's the answer?"

"Beats me." Metatron shrugged nonchalantly. "I've only been a man for a day. Um, the — the answer to the riddle will lead to another book," he explained when a growl rumbled in Castiel's throat. "And inside that book, you'll find your grace. We're gonna work this out together, okay? Teamwork."

His words were met with a scowl from Castiel, but the seraph didn't argue. Instead, he merely rolled his eyes and moved off down another aisle. Alex followed, breaking away a second later to search her own set of books. She trailed her fingers down the spines, head tipped slightly as she read the titles. "What was the riddle again?" she asked, and her voice echoed through the empty room.

" 'What is the maddest thing a man can do?' " Castiel's voice came from across from her, and she paused to peer through the books at her mate. There was a light in his eyes, pure hope at finding their grace, and Alex paused to grin at the sight.

"Thanks." Alex tucked a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear as she spoke. "Are you — are you sure it's our grace you're feeling?" she pressed after a moment's pause, lowering her voice as not to give Metatron the pleasure of hearing. "I don't feel anything."

"I'm sure." Castiel's promise was just as soft. "Yours and mine. I would never forget how that feels. Perhaps ... perhaps because you only have a soul, you can't feel it like I can."

His blue eyes searched her face, waiting to see if she agreed, and Alex gave a small nod. "Maybe," she conceded. "Well, keep looking then."

"You know, I can hear every word you're saying, and let me say, you two are absolutely adorable." Metatron's voice came from across the room, and Alex's smile faded into a tight-lipped frown as she turned her attention back to the books. "You know, the three of us really do make a good team," he continued. "Kind of like a buddy comedy, without the comedy."

"Or the buddies," Castiel added, and Alex heard Metatron draw in a breath of mock hurt.

"Oh now, come on," he chided. "Back at the diner, that was some pretty awesome dynamic-duo action."

Alex dragged her fingers down the spine of a particularly thick book, pausing to pull it off the shelf and check the first few pages for another riddle. There was nothing, and she tucked the book back into place with a huff. "What we did back there was unfortunate," she heard Castiel say. "No more of our brothers or sisters should die."

"Brothers and sisters?" Metatron actually scoffed, and Alex tilted her head in surprise. "Listen to you. Still spitting out the company line like anyone cares. Like we're actually a family? When what we really are — we're a bunch of glowing lights filled with self-loathing and delusions of grandeur."

"You shut up!"

"No!" Metatron met Castiel's anger. "If I'm gonna die, I want answers. Like, who are you now? Like, you're obviously not an angel of the Lord. And what about all this walking the earth like Caine from 'Kung Fu' crap?" His voice rose even more, and Alex circled around the aisle to see the two angels staring at each other through the shelves "Cleaning up heaven's messes. How many more rogue angels are there out there? And what are you gonna do once you're done with that? Go back to heaven?" Metatron scoffed. "Please. The angel formerly known as Hannah has restored order up top. Smoothest it's run since God cut the ribbon on the pearly gates, and they're sure as hell not going to let her up there." Alex watched as he gestured to her through the shelves. "So tell me, Castiel, truly, what is your mission now?"

Alex took a step closer when she saw Castiel's shoulders tense, fearful that the seraph was going to strike a blow. However, all he said was, "You shut up and keep looking," and then he turned on his heels and stalked away.

Metatron chuckled, and Alex returned to her aisle with a shake of her head. "Well ..." she heard the scribe continue, and she did her best to block out the sound of his voice, her attention fully on the books at hand, "I cannot say I didn't try."

Light flashed in front of her eyes, and Alex gasped as a weight pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her to the ground. Her lungs screamed in pain, and panic blinded her at the sudden invisible force. Through the ringing in her ears, she barely heard Castiel hit the ground on the other side of the bookshelves, grunting in agony.

Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor, and Alex caught sight of Metatron's shoes through the stack of books. "Poor Castiel." The scribe clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he stared down at the seraph. "Swam so far just to drown in shallow waters. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?" The footsteps retreated slightly, and Alex looked up to see Metatron watching her, a triumphant smile upon his round face. "Stay there and be good," he taunted, and Alex pushed herself up onto her knees before the weight of the spell forced her back down.

Satisfied, Metatron disappeared from sight, and Alex swept some of the books off of their shelves so she could better see her mate. "Cas." She hissed his name, and Castiel turned his head to meet her gaze. "You okay?"

Castiel nodded, his mouth opening, but his words were drowned out by Metatron's. "Alright. First thing's first ... find what I really came here for." The sound of rustling paper came from across the room. " 'What two things do you need to succeed in life?' " he read before he chuckled. "Ignorance and confidence."

"They're quotes." Castiel pulled the first riddle out of his pocket, grimacing at the pain the movement cause him, and Metatron laughed..

"So, uh ... did you and Samateur hour really thing I wouldn't have a back-up plan?" Alex could see Metatron's feet cross past her vision as he made his way down the aisle. He stopped near the end, and Alex heard him pull a book off the shelf. "Ah. Hello, demon tablet."

"Shit." Alex watched as Castiel pulled himself away from the scribe, his jaw clenched at the strain, and the ex-angel once again tried to stand, pushing her feet underneath her and forcing herself up. She steadied herself on the bookshelves, doing her best to ignore how her legs quivered under the strain. "Crowley, where are you? Metatron has the demon tablet."

"Who now has the what now?" The thick accent of Crowley came from behind her, and Alex tried to turn. The pressure from the spell sent her to the ground, and she grunted as her chest collided with the hardwood floors. "Good to see you too, kitten."

"Is that Crowley?" Metatron's voice sounded from across the room, a mixture of joy and disbelief. "Crowley the King of Hell."

"That's Metatron?" The demon's eyebrows cocked in surprise. "That's the Scribe of God. I was expecting something more ... holy."

"He's human. Cas took his grace. Just — just kill him or something!" Alex once again pushed herself to her feet with a snarl, but with a wave of his hand, Crowley sent her crashing back to the ground.

"What am I, your personal revenge service?" Alex heard footsteps hurrying away, running towards the front door, but Crowley's attention remained fully focused on her. "You work for me, not the other way around!"

"No." Grace trickled deep within her gut, and Alex closed her eyes, welcoming the feeling. "You're wrong." Her eyes snapped open wide, and she pushed herself to her feet as the floodgates within her opened. "I don't work for you."

The bookcases exploded, sending books and loose pages flying around the room at deadly speeds, and Alex lost sight of the demon as white light enveloped the room. Her grace rushed through her veins, a comforting, powerful warmth that spread outwards and exploded from her shoulders, twisting and molding into a solid, holy weight.

The papers settled around her, and she turned to look past the fallen shelves, following the thread of grace to her mate. Castiel's eyes glowed blue, and his wings were outstretched, tattered and broken.

Their worn state barely registered as Alex turned away, her own wings rising as she searched for the King of Hell. "Crowley!" She bellowed the name, eyes scanning the library for the stocky demon.

"Looks like I'm a little late to the party, hmm?" Crowley emerged from behind one of the few upright shelves, his dark eyes taking in the mess at his feet. "You didn't tell me you were looking to get your grace back."

"You never asked." Her grace swelled up, her eyes glowing in the dim room, and she felt her wings flare, brushing the low ceilings as she cast their shadows onto the back wall. "And I'm not human any longer."

"You think this makes a difference?" Crowley spat the words, shying away from the bright, holy light, and Alex let the last of her grace inside, sinking into her bones. She felt her soul melt away at the touch, consumed by the angelic force. The inky letters of her deal rose to her skin, glowing a brilliant blue, and Alex's grin turned to a frown as she looked down at her arms. She could feel her grace straining at the contract, but no matter how hard she pushed, it refused to give.

"Did you really think I would just let you get away when you found your grace?" Crowley's voice grew scathing, and Alex let out a shriek of pain as the lettering faded to a smoldering black. "Read it on your skin, sweetheart. You're mine even if I had to drag you down to hell and cut your grace out myself!"

The deal burrowed into her grace, and Alex threw her head back in a painful howl as it sunk its icy fangs into her chest.

Her cry was nearly drowned out by Castiel's snarl, and then the seraph was there, holding her up as her legs threatened to buckle underneath the pain. "You might be good, but I'm Crowley," he taunted. "I'll see you in hell, darling."

The demon disappeared, and Alex pushed herself back to her feet. "Fuck!" The curse left her lips, echoing through the empty room, and she spun around to face Castiel, her eyes blazing. The seraph's shoulders were fallen, and Alex's wings flared up furiously. "You should be pissed!" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "Don't give up!"

"He's won." Castiel's eyes slid past her to rest on the space where Crowley had once stood. "If regaining our grace — dissolving your very soul — couldn't break it ..." He shook his head, his eyes dull with defeat. "I don't know what else to do."

"We go back to the bunker." Alex's wings fell back to her side, and her anger faded into cold determination. "Sam and Dean are with Charlie. They've found the Book of the Damned. If there's a spell in there to cure the Mark of Cain, maybe — maybe there's some way to break this curse of mine, too." Two steps carried her to him, her hands cupping his cheeks. She felt her grace thrum at the contact, and she leaned up, pressing her lips to his as reassuringly as she could. "I still have twelve months left. Don't give up yet."

Lebanon, Kansas

The quiet bunker air hummed gently as Alex toyed with her grace, sending it out to feel the farthest reaches of the halls before snapping back in. Her phone lay on the table, screen opened to Sam's latest message, a promise of a quick arrival. There was an inquiry about her grace, but Alex left it unanswered; she would be able to tell Sam in person soon enough.

She could feel Castiel behind her, his attention on the bookshelf, and she closed her eyes, drawing on the small flickering in the back of her mind, allowing her grace to see what he saw. She saw the books, followed by a view of the back of her head as Castiel turned, humming in surprise. "Hey." Alex tipped her head back in her chair, staring up the seraph with a small smile. "Anything interesting?"

"I think I've had enough of books for the time being." Castiel crossed the room to stand at her side, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, turning so she could sit on the table and place her feet up upon the chair.

Her eyes fell onto Castiel's wings, and the angel couldn't help the small frown that darkened her face. When she had been living on stolen grace, she neither saw wings not had a pair of her own; somehow, what she had before seemed almost preferable to this. The seraph's wings were nothing more than ragged, unkempt feathers, the faintest hints of exposed bone visible through the tattered mess.

Alex knew her wings looked no better, and she drew one in to fruitlessly preen one of the large pinions. Large chunks of the vane were missing, leaving only a barb or two clinging for life. Small covert feathers still covered the patchwork of remaining skin, and the angel grimaced, tugging angrily at stripped rachis of a secondary flight feather. "You shouldn't play with them," Castiel warned, his voice soft yet chastising. "They'll heal faster if you leave them alone."

"They will grow back, won't they?" Alex's eyebrows turned up worriedly, and she held out her hands, beckoning her mate closer. "Then I'll be able to fly again." The darkening Castiel's eyes had her shoulders falling, and she drew her wings back out of her sight with a sigh.

The door opened, and Alex looked up to watch Sam step through the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hey," he called, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the two of them. "Did you guys find your grace?" His eyes darted upwards as Alex had the lights flicker, and he broke out into a grin. "Congrats. And — and your deal?"

Alex's smile faded as Sam came to stop in front of her, and the Winchester's own grin fell away. "Crowley ... planned on us finding it," she admitted, and her arms dropped to her lap. "It wouldn't break."

"How —" Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion, and he looked between the two angels. "How's that possible? You don't have a soul ... right?"

Castiel's lips pursed, and Alex's eyes fell onto her feet. "I don't," she reluctantly agreed. "But he ... he says he's planning on having his hounds drag me to hell where he'll take my grace. Without it I'll be human again." Her gaze flickered back up to Sam. "What about the Book of the Damned? Did you find it? Is there something that could help me?"

Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, and Alex leaned into the warm, reassuring touch. "We don't know," he admitted. "We didn't find a way to translate it. It's written in some obscure Sumerian dialect, but it's also in code, none that I've ever seen. But Alex ..." His hand fell away, and the angel felt her heart plummet. "We had to destroy the book. The men who were following Charlie found us. We didn't have a chance." The hand returned, squeezing gently, but when Alex shrugged it off, he turned his eyes onto Cas. "What about Metatron?" he asked. "Is he back in heaven?"

"He escaped with the demon tablet." Castiel's voice was low in defeat. "I was foolish, selfish. I should've just killed him." The seraph dropped down into a chair with a small shake of his head. "Who knows what he'll do with that tablet."

Sam's let out a low, slow breath through his nose. "Well, you know what, Cas?" he finally said. "You got your grace back. You're back. You did the right thing."

"It didn't save Alex." Castiel placed his elbows on his table, his head falling into his hands. "You ... you did the right thing, too," he reluctantly admitted. "That book needed to be destroyed." He lifted his eyes, and determination crept into the edges of his voice. "We will find another way, Sam. For both Alex and Dean."

"We're back, bitches!" The bunker door flew open, and Alex jumped to her feet, wings flaring up in surprise at the sudden noise. Charlie jumped down the metal stairs, two grocery bags in her arms. Chair legs squeaked against the floor as Castiel rose to his feet, and Alex followed him down into the war room to greet the new arrivals. Charlie's eyes lit up, and a smile grew across her face as she took in the angel at Alex's side. "Whoa! Is that who I think it is?"

"Charlie, Cas." Sam came to stop behind Alex, motioning between the two. "Cas, Charlie."

Charlie yanked Castiel into a quick hug before pulling back to look the seraph up and down. "I thought you'd be shorter," she finally admitted, dropping the bags she was carrying down onto the table.

Sam was there to pick them up, balancing them carefully as he jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm gonna get these to the fridge," he announced, and Alex stepped back to let him through.

Charlie gave no notice that she heard, her attention fully on the two angels in front of her. "Heard the two of you might have gotten your mojo back," she began cheerfully.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, "my — our grace, it's been restored."

Charlie looked down at Alex, and the blonde nodded in agreement, smiling to accompany her mate's words. "It's true," she agreed. "We're back, wings and all."

Charlie grinned. "So — so can't you just ... you know ... cure Dean?"

Her smile fell away when Castiel dropped his gaze. "It's not exactly that simple," Alex began. "The Mark — it's more than just a scrape or a broken bone."

"Oh." Charlie's shoulders fell in disappointment. "Never is, is it?" The sadness lasted only a moment before the woman perked back up. "Do you think you could do anything about my carpal tunnel?" Her eyes crossed slightly as she followed Castiel's hand up to where it came to rest on her forehead, and Alex felt their grace rush through Charlie, healing every injury it encountered. He pulled away a moment later, and the woman gave a small frown. "Is that it?"

"Your carpal tunnel and your bullet wound are now healed," Castiel promised, and he motioned down to the woman's hand. "You may want to continue wearing your brace at night, though."

Charlie's face glowed, blue eyes sparkling in amazement as she stared up at the seraph. "Did we just become best friends?" she asked, and even Castiel managed to smile at her joy. The smile quickly faded at the sound of the bunker door opening, and Alex followed his gaze upwards to see Dean entering, three large pizza boxes balanced in his hands.

"Hey, look who decided to show," the Winchester called, and he flicked his head upwards in a nod to both of the angels. "So? You two back at one hundred percent? How'd that happen?"

Sam stepped back into the war room, and Castiel's head turned momentarily onto the Winchester before he constructed his answer. "Uh, it was Hannah," he lied. "She managed to get the location of the remainder of my grace out of Metatron."

"Awesome." Dean's grin widened, and he dropped the pizza onto the table as he glanced over at his brother. "I told you we were due for a win," he told Sam before clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, pal."

"I'm glad to be back," Castiel agreed quietly.

Alex grunted in surprise as Dean pulled her into a tight side-hug. "Same to you," the Winchester added down to her. "Let me tell you, you missed a hell of a road trip. Glad to see you're up and out of that deal, huh?"

Alex looked up at his grin, and she forced a similar smile. "I'll tell you about it later," she promised, intent on not marring the hunter's rare and jovial mood. "I think that pizza's calling my name, though." She curled around to her customary chair, waving her mate over to join her. "I might be an angel, but I'm gonna eat as much as I can."

Her distraction worked, and Dean dropped into his seat, hands clapping together as he pulled the pizzas close. "I'll second that." He immediately pushed himself back to his feet. "Beer. I'll get the beer."

"And plates!" Alex yelled after him as he hurried off towards the kitchen.

"When are you gonna tell him?" Sam sat down in the chair beside her, and Alex leaned back in her seat as she glanced in his direction. "About ... your deal."

"I'll tell him in the morning." Alex tucked her hands behind her head as she leaned back further in her chair. "He told you we were due for a win, you know? I want to give him that." She fell silent as Dean returned, a six-pack tucked under one arm, a stack of paper plates in the other. She didn't wait for him to sit down before she pulled open one of the pizza boxes, digging in and pulling free a slice for herself. "For now, how about we celebrate, huh?" She accepted a beer from Dean, her grace cracking off the top as she held it up. "To our win."