"Sam!"

Alex jerked awake, eyes flying wide open at the hoarse yell. "Dean?" She yanked her angel blade out from under her pillow as she jumped to her feet, head whipping around as she searched for the source of the shout. "Dean!"

Her cry was echoed by Sam, already in the hall with his gun in his hands, and Alex rushed out to join him. "Where's Dean?" he demanded, but before Alex could answer, he pushed his way past her.

"No!" Dean's voice came from behind his door, and Sam kicked it open, his gun raised defensively. Alex followed, her own weapon at the ready, but it quickly fell back to her side at the sight before her. The Winchester was on his bed, eyes squeezed shut as he tightly gripped at the sheets. "No! No no no." His cries faded into whimpers, and Alex straightened up with a frown as his tossing and turning ceased.

Her eyes fell onto his right arm, the Mark of Cain visible just below the cuff of his jacket sleeve, and the shifting of his hand had her attention turning up onto Dean's face. Green eyes flickered open, landing on them, and Sam quickly dropped his gun to his side. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean's free hand came over to cover up the Mark, and Alex dropped her eyes to the ground. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing. You were calling for us in your sleep." Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, his feet carrying him out of the doorway. "We'll let you sleep." He motioned Alex out, and the ex-angel hurriedly returned to the hall, shoulders hunched apologetically as the Winchester closed the door behind them. "He's sleeping in his clothes again." Sam's hand lingered on the doorknob before falling away with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, that's never a good sign," Alex agreed with a sigh. She ran her hands down her face, head tipped slightly as she heard Dean get out of bed. "But, uh, speaking of," she added, raising her voice, "I'm loving the pj's." She gestured to Sam's matching navy pajamas, smiling at how his jaw tightened at her humor. "Is that embroidered?"

"You realize this is all coming from the girl who's not even wearing pants, right?"

"I was in bed. I don't need pants." Alex tugged on the hem of her borrowed shirt, drawing it down a bit further over her thighs. "Besides, your clothes are big enough to pass as a dress."

No retort followed her quip, and after a second of silence, Sam let out a sigh. "You should head back to bed. I ... I'm going to give Cas a call." He shook his head, glancing at his brother's closed door and lowering his voice. "We got to do something, Alex. He's getting worse."

"You're right." Alex looked down at the weapon in her hand. "I'm going to go put pants on and I'll meet you out in the library."

"You don't have to," Sam started. "If you want to sleep —"

"After that?" Alex jerked a thumb back towards Dean. "No way. I'm wide awake. Besides, two heads put together are better than just one." She brushed past him on her way to her room, and a glance behind her showed Sam moving back towards his.

The girl flipped on her lights as she kicked her door closed behind her. She shucked off her shirt and reached for her bra, lips pursed together to hum mindlessly as she dressed. A black t-shirt lay on top of her dresser -- a quick smell-test proved it clean -- and she tugged it on before reaching for her jeans. Socks and a blue flannel completed her outfit, and the ex-angel paused only long enough to throw her hair up into a quick braid before she hurried back down the hall.

Sam was already in the library, his laptop propped open in front of him, and Alex dropped down into the chair at his side. "Dean's up," she announced quietly. "Or, at least, the door to his room's open again."

"Yeah, I know. He's in the kitchen making coffee." Sam pulled his phone away from his ear with a shake of his head. "I'm going to see if Cas can meet up with us. You know how far away he is?"

"He's in the area," Alex promised. "And he'll definitely be able to meet. What about Dean? Are we just going to leave him and hope he doesn't --"

"Doesn't what?" Dean stepped into the room, a coffee mug in his hand, and Alex snapped her jaw shut with an audible click.

"Doesn't get bored." Sam smoothly took over the explanation, and Alex nodded in agreement. "Uh, how'd you sleep?"

"Like a drunk baby." Dean set his drink down on the table as he sat down across from his brother. "Why would I get bored?"

"Uh, well, because there's nothing to do." Sam shrugged, motioning towards his computer screen with a shrug. "I mean, uh, no weird deaths, no demon signs. There's a Kitsune working some truck stops outside of Boise, but Rudy's on it, so ..."

"Alright." Dean took a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair with an understanding nod, and Alex fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve, thankful the Winchester fell for Sam's quick thinking. "So, uh, snow day. I say we get drunk and shoot crap."

"Yeah, except we do that every day," Sam reminded him pointedly before he cleared his throat and shut his laptop. "Actually, I was thinking about seeing a movie."

"Yeah, that could be cool," Dean relented, and his fingers toyed curiously with the ceramic handle of his mug.

"It's a French movie."

"You mean like nudie French?" The eldest Winchester's curiosity heightened, and his eyebrows lifted as he grinned.

"Even better." Chair legs squealed against the wooden floor as Sam pushed his chair back. "It's about a mime that's secretly a cockroach."

Dean's head recoiled, and even Alex narrowed her eyes in pure confusion. "I-I-I don't get it," Dean finally admitted, and the ex-angel reached up to scratch at her head as she tried to picture the synopsis in her head.

Sam's voice grew defensively insistent, and he rose to his feet, hands planted on the table. "Dude, The New York Times said —"

"Who cares?"

"Alright." The faintest hint of a frown displayed the Winchester's obvious displeasure. "Well ... it's playing in Wichita, so I might not be back til morning. Alex, uh, you want in?"

The smirk on Dean's face made it clear what he expected, and Alex hopped to her feet with a small shrug. "Sure. Sounds interesting." She grinned over at Dean to see that the smirk had faltered, replaced by surprise and confusion, and she was quick to add, "Uh, are you — are you sure that you're going to be okay here by yourself, Dean? I-I can stay if you think you'll need me."

"It's fine." Dean brushed her concern off with a wave of his hand. "Besides, I could use a little 'me' time. You two lovebirds go and have fun. Make good choices."

Alex rolled her eyes, and Sam's lips pursed distastefully at the comment, but all he said was, "Alright. Stay out of my room."

"Totally." Dean waved them off, and Alex grabbed her phone off of the table before she followed Sam across the room and up the metal stairs to the bunker exit. She glanced over her shoulder as she paused beside the door, but Dean's attention was already back on his coffee.

"We can take my car." Alex jumped up the rusted steps as Sam closed the door behind them. "Okay, I-I — a mime that's a cockroach? What is this, a Ratatouille offshoot?"

Sam's head tipped back in a laugh, and he circled around to the driver's side. "I had to think of something to keep Dean here." He held out his hand, and Alex dug her keys out of her pocket. "How about you call Cas and set up a meeting. I'll drive."

The familiar sight of Castiel appeared in the distance, the tan trench coat blending into the gold siding of the car he was leaning casually against. His head turned at the sound of their approaching engine, and after a second, the seraph removed his hand from his pockets as the Marquis rolled to a stop behind him. "Hey, Cas." Alex threw open the door and got out, a smile on her face at the sight of him. "Glad to see you."

"Hi." Castiel's lips turned up in a warm smile, and he pulled her up into a quick kiss. "How have you been? Hello, Sam," he added as Sam climbed out of the front seat.

"Hey, Cas. Thanks for coming." The Winchester circled around the car, and Alex pulled away from the seraph to stand at his side.

"Of course." Castiel's gaze slid past him, searching the car, and a frown darkened his face as he looked back at Alex. "Where's Dean? You said this was about him."

"It is about him." Alex mimicked his frown as she glanced up at Sam, who took over the explanation. "He's getting worse," he reported. "Cas, we've gone through every other option possible. We got to talk about —"

"Don't say it."

"Do you think I want this?" Sam's voice grew heated, and he crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not a fan of it, either. But if we want to get rid of the Mark ..." He trailed off, barely holding back a resigned sigh. "I'm just saying, Charlie's gone radio silent, and everything else we've tried has been a dead end. So ..."

"So Metatron is our best bet." The words tasted sour on Alex's tongue, and she spat onto the road to show her disgust. "But hey, desperate times."

Castiel's blue eyes flickered between Alex and Sam, hesitancy written in the lines of his face, but after a few seconds, he relented. "I'll drive," he decided. "The gate to heaven is close by. I'll take you there." He motioned towards the gold Continental, and Alex nodded, hand extended towards Sam for her keys.

She climbed into the backseat, settling behind her mate and leaving the front seat to the taller hunter. "How have you been?" She leaned forward, one hand squeezing the junction between Castiel's shoulder and neck as her mate climbed into the front seat.

"I've been good. Now that I've had time, I've moved the First Blade to a more secure location." The engine spluttered to life as Sam climbed in beside him, and Alex pulled her hand away. "Have either of you heard from Crowley? I imagine he's not pleased with Dean's betrayal."

Sam shook his head, and Alex fell back into her seat with a shrug. "I have," she admitted. "He didn't say anything about the Blade. He just ... ranted about hell and stuff. Don't tell me anything about it, though," she was quick to add. "I'm gonna be the first person he'll go to if he wants it again."

"Don't worry," came the tempered response. " I had no intentions of telling you."

"Good. What about our grace?" Alex stifled a shiver, Crowley's parting reminder ringing in her head. "I have less than a year left at this point, and I don't want to be anywhere near cutting it close."

Silence followed her words, and Alex watched as Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's been a slow progression," he finally admitted. "If some of our grace did remain after the spell, then only Metatron would know where it is. The only angel with whom he may have confided in was Gadreel."

"And he's dead," Alex finished flatly. "Awesome."

"Maybe ..." Sam spoke slowly, and Alex tipped her head in curiosity. "Maybe you should look into the possibility of finding something Crowley wants more than your soul. If you can barter for it —"

"Nope." Alex cut him off with a firm shake of her head. "He's fucking ecstatic about this deal. The only possible thing I can think of him wanting more would be the First Blade, and we're not giving him that."

She watched as Sam and Castiel exchanged looks, and after a second's thought, Sam shrugged. "Maybe Metatron was lying," he offered. "Maybe the First Blade isn't necessary for the cure. And it's not like it's any use to Crowley without the Mark."

"If we're lucky, we'll be able to ask him ourselves." The engine roared as Castiel accelerated down the road. "Have you thought of what you're going to say to him?"

"Not at all." Sam reclined into the seat with a shake of his head. "You?"

"No. I'm not even sure if the angels will let us speak with him again." The seraph's voice was tight with frustration. "They were hesitant enough the first time, and that was before I broke my promise about keeping him safe. They may think it wise to learn from their mistakes."

Alex fell back against her seat, unable to deny the validity of her mate's words, and the car ride continued in silence. She rested her head against the glass as the park came into view, swallowing the flutter of trepidation that sat in her stomach.

The engine died, and the ex-angel slipped out of the car, reaching back to check her pockets for her weapon. The familiar shape of her angel blade rested against her skin, and some of the anxiety melted into relief as she followed Castiel onto the grass towards the playground. A man stood there, wariness in his eyes as the three of them approached the sandbox. He rose to his feet, stepping forward to block their way with a frown when Castiel showed no sign of stopping. "That's far enough, Castiel," he warned.

"Excuse me?" The seraph came to a stop in front of the angel, his head tipping in frustration and confusion, and Alex moved until she was standing at his side.

"I have orders." Didsdain flickered in the guard's gaze as he looked down at Alex, but his voice remained placid. "You aren't allowed upstairs."

Sam stepped forward to stand on Alex's side, his arms folding across his chest. "Says who?"

"Hold, please." The gate in the sandbox began to glow, and the angel's head tipped back as blue grace swirled out his body. It spiraled into the gate as a second stream of grace appeared out of it, disappearing into the vessel's mouth. The body shuddered slightly as the angel took over, and the dark eyes flashed blue with grace before fading. The face softened as those eyes focused on the seraph. "Hello, Castiel."

"Hannah." Castiel's voice equally soft, and Alex crossed her arms in displeasure.

The angel looked down the vessel, shaking his head in disappointment. "I swore I'd never occupy another vessel, but ... we need to have this conversation face-to-face."

The softness in Castiel's tone died. "What conversation?"

Hannah lifted his head, ready to match the seraph's height. "What do you want in Heaven?" he demanded.

Castiel looked down at Alex, and the angel shrugged, letting her arms fall back down to her side. "We want Metatron," she admitted, doing her best to keep her words level.

"Why?" Hannah's gaze sharpened, head snapping back Castiel worriedly. "Is this about your grace?" he demanded. "Are you fading?"

"I'm fine for now," Castiel promised tersely, and Sam cleared his throat to draw all attention onto his as he quietly added, "This is about my brother."

"Because you think Metatron might have information about the Mark of Cain?" Hannah's eyes didn't linger long on Sam before once again returning to Castiel, and the seraph gave a small shake of his head.

"No," he corrected, "We know he does."

"So he says. But Metatron lies."

Alex threw up her hands, frustrated with Hannah's lack of cooperation. "Listen, we just want to talk with him, okay?" She planted her hands on her hips as she held the angel's stare, ignoring the frown she was given by her mate.

"No, you want his help." Hannah shook her head, and Alex rolled her eyes. "But we both know the only way Metatron helps you is if he's free." Once again, Hannah's attention turned onto Castiel. "And I can't let the scribe out of his cell. Not again. He's too dangerous."

"We won't ..."

"Yes, you will." The soft, familiar regret in the angel's voice told Alex Hannah had spoken those words before. "Because you're desperate."

"After all I've done for Heaven ..." Castiel's voice cracked. "After all I've done for you."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be!" The seraph's voice rose, and Alex reached up to put a gentle hand on his shoulder, as the woods around them began to move. Three angels stepped out of the trees, the silver weapons of their blades glinting in the pale light. She tightened her grip, finger pads digging into his shirt in warning.

Her concern was echoed by Sam. "Cas, let's go." His voice was terse, and Alex looked back to see a tight frown upon his lips. He waved them away, and Alex tugged her mate after him.

"What?" Castiel dropped his voice into a frustrated hiss as he stalked after the Winchester. "We're leaving?"

"We can't fight off four angels," Alex retorted. "Even with you and me, that's pure suicide."

She watched as Castiel's shoulders fell, but his lack of resistance signaled his acceptance of the truth. "So ... so, what?" he demanded. "You just want to give up on Metatron?"

Alex shrugged, but to her surprise, Sam gave a firm shake of his head. "No, we need him," he decided, and he lifted his chin as he led the way towards the car. "Time for plan B. We break him out."

"Break out Metatron." Alex circled around to the right side of the Continental, careful to keep her voice low as she shot a dark glare back towards Heaven's gate. "How are we going to get someone out when we can't even get in?"

"We get someone on the inside to help." Sam climbed into the car, and Alex followed with a shrug over at her mate.

"Well, if Hannah isn't willing to help, then I don't imagine any other angel will, either," Castiel reminded. "What exactly were you thinking?"

"Well, uh, angels aren't the only things in heaven, right? There's, uh, there's souls, too. Maybe ... if we can contact someone up there, we can get them to help."

Alex looked over at Castiel, leaning forward in her seat as she waited for him to respond. The seraph was sitting quietly in his seat, pensive concentration exaggerating the lines on his face as he thought. "It is possible," he finally decided. "If they could reach the gate, then I could get into heaven and retrieve Metatron myself. Who were you thinking?"

The engine roared to life, and Sam turned his eyes out the window back towards Heaven's gate. "I have some ideas."

The night air was warm, and Alex rolled her sleeves up past her elbows, tugging her hand out of Castiel's grasp to adjust her jacket before she reached one more time for her mate's hold. Sam walked a step ahead of them, the light of his phone illuminating his angular face. "You mind telling us why we're here?" She broke the silence of the night, and Sam looked back, surprised at the sound of her voice.

"Uh, so, back in the fifties, Oliver Pryce was a kid psychic.. He preformed everywhere — carnivals, Atlantic City ... you name it. He was the real deal. Now, the Men of Letters were teaching him how to control his powers when they got ... you know ..."

"Brutally slaughtered," Castiel finished, and Sam gave a small nod, frowning at the blunt summary.

"The point is, he's one the good guys, and he's the closest one I could find to Heaven's gate," he finished. "He might be happy to see us."

"Or not." Castiel came to a stop, and Alex paused alongside him, following his gaze to the house across the street. A thick iron fence enclosed the property, which was overgrown with ivy and weeds, and more than one Do Not Trespass signs hung on the rusted gate. She felt his hand squeeze hers in comfort as he lead the way across the street, and she followed, frowning as Sam's long legs carried him quickly past.

The gate opened beneath his touch, creaking as it swung inwards, and the Winchester barely paused to watch it rattle as it hit a large, concrete cinder block before he crossed the the yard and stepped up onto the porch. "Mr. Pryce?" He pounded on the front door, voice rising in insistence. "Oliver Pryce!"

"I'll break it down." Castiel dropped Alex's hand to reach towards the door, fingers outstretched, and Alex stepped back to protect herself from the blast.

"Dude, dude, due." Sam jumped forward to bat the seraph's hands away with a quick shake of his head. "Chill."

"What?" Castiel mimicked Sam by keeping his voice low as he frowned up at the Winchester. "I'm helping."

Hazel eyes flashed with barely tempered frustration, but the Winchester managed to rein in his emotions within a second. "Just follow my lead," he instructed, and Alex reached up to put a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder as the door unlocked with a click. A thin, balding man stood on the other side, his eyes narrowed warily behind thick glasses. "Mr. Pryce? I'm Sam —"

"Winchester," the man finished curtly. "You're Sam Winchester, Man of Letters. Mind reader, remember?" he added when Sam's face went momentarily blank with shock. "And you're Evelyn Ross."

"Alex," Alex corrected with a mutter, but the psychic had already turned his attention away from her.

"And you're ..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing even further as he regarded Castiel. "What are you?"

"I'm an angel." The reply came evenly, and Alex dropped her hand down to take his hand in hers, squeezing tight.

Pryce's eyes stretched wide, and they flickered between Castiel, Alex, and their hands, fingers entwined. "That ..." His voice trembled, and he shifted backwards nervously. "No, you can't be!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm an atheist!" The psychic's voice cracked in indignation, and Alex huffed out her amusement at the man's weak defense.

"Not anymore." Sam pushed his way in through Oliver Pryce's door, leaving the man no choice but to step back and let the rest of them through. Alex heard the door click closed behind them, and she turned her eyes around the cluttered living room as she waited for Pryce to join them.

"That you?" She nodded towards an old, antique poster that displayed a young boy, and she turned to Pryce as she searched for any similarities in the two's facial features.

"Was me." Oliver shrugged off her attempt at conversation. "I don't do that psychic stuff no more." The sharpness fell from his voice, and after a second, he added, "Being around people, it's kind of ... hell. All those brains yapping all the time drives a guy bananas."

"Because you can hear everyone's' thoughts," Castiel finished.

Pryce nodded as he regarded the angel with a hesitant stare. "Well, not yours," he admitted. "All I'm getting from you is ... colors. But hippie over here?" He jerked a thumb towards Sam. "I'm seeing some creep-ass hobbit looking fella and a prison cell?"

"That's heaven's jail." Alex looked over at Sam for confirmation, and the hunter gave a small nod of assent.

The psychic's thick eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Heaven's got a freaking jail?"

"Heaven has a lot of things," Alex promised. "And yeah, a jail's one of them. And we're looking to break someone out of it." She glanced over at Sam, taking a moment to draw in a breath before she continued. "We have a guy on the inside, but we need your help to talk with him."

"And if I say no?"

"You're the mind reader." Sam answered for Alex, and the ex-angel watched as Oliver Pryce's eyes stretched wide as he looked over at the Winchester.

Whatever the hunter was thinking, it was convincing, as the psychic ducked his head, dropping his gaze onto the carpeted floor. "I'll get my crap," he muttered, hurrying out of the room.

Alex looked over at Sam, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "The hell did you think at him?" she teased as the psychic's footsteps disappeared upstairs. "I forget people can see you as scary." She ignored Sam's roll of the eyes before she turned back to Castiel. The seraph was studying the array of books and trinkets that decorated one of the dark bookshelves in the corner of the room, and she crossed over to him, momentarily resting a gentle hand on his back to let him know she was there. "Anything interesting?"

Castiel didn't respond, his attention instead drawn to the sound of returning footsteps. Oliver Pryce rushed back into the room, a black bundle in his arms. "Clear off that table," he instructed, and Alex gathered up the few belongings that sat upon it as the psychic dumped his things onto the wooden tabletop. Bowls, candles, and herbs were wrapped up in a black table cloth, and Alex retreated to put the handful of belongings down on the couch as the man quickly set everything up. "You — you're looking to speak with someone in heaven?"

"Yeah. Think you can do that?"

"I-I — I think so." A bowl clattered as Pryce bumped it in his haste, and he cleared his throat in apology. "Take a seat."

Alex dropped down in the chair across from him, leaving Sam and Castiel to take the seats on either side. Her nose wrinkled at the sharp tang of herbs in the air, and she asked, "What's in the bowl?"

"Bay, rosemary, and wormwood. I added a bit of cedar as well. I thought bit of amplification couldn't hurt," he hurried to add as he lit the candles. "It's been a long time since I've tried to communicate with the dead. You got anything that belonged to the deceased?"

"Yes. Right here." Sam reached into his bag to pull out Bobby's hat, and Alex felt her chest twist painfully at the sight of it.

"I want that back," she warned Pryce as the psychic set it in the middle of the table beside the bowl, and she only let the hardness fall from her eyes when the man nodded.

"Okay. Now shut up and hold hands." He stretched out his own hands, and Alex threaded her fingers through Castiel's as she reached over to grab Sam's hand, warm and dry. Pryce's eyes fell shut as the circle was completed. "Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus," he chanted, and Alex closed her own eyes, reaching into the back of her mind to translate the spell. "Te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, apud nos circita."

Hidden spirit, we ask of you. We pray, speak to us, with us ... The translation was rough and incomplete, and Alex cracked open her eyes in time to watch the herbs catch fire, flames licking at the cold air. Pryce's own eyes opened, and he nodded towards Sam. "You may speak."

"B-Bobby?" Sam spoke hesitantly, hazel eyes darkening in doubt as he lifted his voice. "Bobby, can you hear me? Bobby ... we need your help?"

Alex tipped her head as the Winchester fell silent, breath bated as they waited for a response. "S-Sam?" Bobby's voice came from the center of the table, sharp with confusion, and Alex's head fell down to her chest with a wide, relieved grin. "That you?"

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me." Alex's smile was echoed by Sam, his voice cracking slightly. "Listen, Bobby ... we need your help."

Silence followed, and Alex leaned forward, ready to speak, but then Bobby was back. "Course, boy. I'm always here to help. What's going on?"

"It's Dean. He's got the Mark of Cain — the Mark God gave Cain after he killed Abel. He needed it to kill a Knight of Hell, but Bobby ... it's bad. At first, he was able to control it, but I don't know how much longer he can fight it."

"Cain said it's going to take him over," Alex interrupted, taking over the explanation. "That it's inevitable that he's going to kill all of us, and at the rate that it's affecting him ..."

"Alex? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. The Mark actually turned Dean into a demon for a bit. We got him back, but like Sam said, who knows how long he can fight it again. We need to get rid of it, and that's why we're here." Her words were met with silence, and she leaned forward curiously. "Bobby? You still there?"

"Yeah. It's just ... real good to hear your voices again." The old hunter cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm in concentration. "Okay. If, uh, I'm understanding right, you got to figure a way to get the Mark of Cain off Dean before it turns him back into a demon?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam agreed.

"So just another day at the office for you boys, huh?" Bobby joked, a chuckle following his words, and Alex watched as Sam ducked his head in a small laugh, but Bobby's next words had him cutting off. "Put Dean on the line."

Sam looked over at Alex and Castiel, guilt in his eyes. "Dean's ... not here," he finally admitted. "We ... Dean's, uh ... he's not in a good place right now, Bobby."

Another period silence followed, and Alex fidgeted in her seat as she waited for Bobby to speak once again. "So what's the play?" he eventually asked.

"Each soul in heaven is locked in its own private paradise." Castiel finally spoke up, and Alex felt his hand twitch nervously against her own. "That's where you are now. You need to escape. You need to find the gate to earth and open it. Then you and I will find Metatron, the Scribe of God."

"Hey, Sam, you remember when this job was just chopping up some fangs and tossing back a cold one?"

Alex smiled as the gruff words, and she looked over to watch Sam do the same, his hazel eyes glistening slightly before he pushed the emotions back. "I miss that."

"Ditto." Bobby fell silent for a moment as he reminisced, but he quickly shook himself out of his thoughts. "So, while I'm playing Steve McQueen, anyone gonna be looking for me?"

"Everyone." Castiel's voice was dark, his gaze focused on the golden bowl in the middle of the table. "The angels will not like a soul wandering free."

"We got a way to slow them down?"

"Not exactly," Sam admitted. "But, um, you'll ... you'll figured something out, Bobby. You always do."

"Listen, I appreciate the warm fuzzy, but I ain't exactly playing in the big leagues these days. I'm mostly drinking and reading the classics." He chuckled at his words, but the humor quickly died from his tone. "Truth is, I'm rusty. And maybe there's someone better out there."

"Bobby, rusty for you is peak condition for most hunters out there," Alex teased, and she glanced over at Sam for confirmation. "Fact is, there's no one better. A-And with Dean ... with Dean as he is, you're the only shot we've got. Please," she added when the old hunter seemed to hesitate.

She waited, her eyes falling closed in relief when Bobby let out a reluctant sigh. "Hell, I'm already dead. What's the worst that could happen? Alright, Cas, how do I get out of here?"

"You need to find your heaven's escape hatch." The seraph's tone was brisk and businesslike, nodding towards the bowl to show his appreciation of Bobby's help. "Look for something that shouldn't be there, and that's your way out."

"And if I find a way out, then what?"

"The gate is behind door number 42. All you need to do it open it, and then I will be able to enter Heaven."

"Give us an hour," Alex quickly added. "We need time to get to the gate before you spring it. Can you do that?"

"Course," Bobby promised. "But, uh, make sure you're there, okay? I doubt the angels are gonna let my pull this stunt twice."

"We'll be there." The flames died as Alex finished her sentence, and she looked over to see that Pryce had dropped his hands, breaking the circle. "Hey!" She pushed herself to her feet, and the psychic did the same, ready to match her challenge

"I can only hold the connection for so long," he warned. "You got the information that you need. Now get out of my house!" He turned away, and Alex tipped her head as she thought she heard him mutter the words, "noisy thoughts."

"Come on." Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, and the ex-angel let her posture relax. "We need to get going. We only have an hour, and we need to be there when Bobby opens the gate." He looked over at Castiel, and the seraph nodded in agreement.

Alex shrugged off Sam's hand. "You're right." She snatched Bobby's hat off of the table, holding it against her chest momentarily before she placed it on her head, tugging on the worn bill. "We need to get going." She crossed over to the door, pausing only to listen as Sam thanked Pryce for his time before she stepped out into the night.

"You sure he can handle this?" Castiel's voice roused Alex, and the ex-angel lifted her chin from where it rested on the back of the seraph's seat, her eyes trained out the window towards the darkened playground. A single angel stood beside the swings, having paused from his laps around the large, colorful metal structures.

"He's Bobby." Sam didn't tear his gaze away from the scene either, but the firmness in his voice left little room for dissuasion. "He can handle anything."

"It's barely past the hour mark," Alex added quietly. "It's going to take him some time to create a distraction and find the door. Have some faith." She shifted in her seat, eying the gate warily. "How are we going to take care of the guard on our side?"

"You and Sam will need to restrain him. If Bobby had done his job, hopefully the angels will be too distracted to notice that I've entered."

"Sam can do that on his own, right?" The ex-angel jerked a thumb towards the Winchester. "I want to come with."

"Alex, you're human." Castiel's lips set in a tight frown as he met her gaze through the rearview mirror. "Even if you're able to pass through the gate, you will be a beacon to all angels, especially with your soul as it is." Alex glared, fingers tightening around her wrist at the unspoken mention of her deal, but the seraph didn't back down. "Promise me you'll stay with Sam."

"Fine. I promise —" Alex threw open her door as the sandbox began to glow, not bothering to finish her thought, and she heard Sam utter an exclamation as he and Castiel followed. She took off in a run towards the playground, pushing herself harder when Sam's long legs had him surpassing her within seconds.

The angelic guard was approaching the sandbox, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he didn't notice the three of them until Sam bowled into him, sending both onto the ground. "Go!" Sam yelled at Castiel as he grappled with the angel, and Alex slid to a stop in front of them, watching as the two struggled for control. "Go!"

The sandbox lit up as Castiel leapt through, and Alex hesitated only a second before she flung herself after him.

The world lit up in a flash of hot, blinding white light, and Alex gasped at the sudden pressure that seemed to instantaneously crush all of her bones. Then everything was gone, and she hit the white tiled floor. Her momentum sent her skidding, her back colliding with a pair of legs, and Alex rolled away with another gasp of surprise.

Hands hauled her to her feet, and Alex's fists balled defensively until she recognized her attacker. "What the hell are you doing?" Castiel's face was mere inches from hers, his eyes ablaze, and Alex shoved herself out of his grasp. "I told you to stay behind!"

"I ..." Alex's gaze slipped past him, and her mouth went dry at the man who stood behind the seraph. Familiar pale blue eyes watched her from beneath a worn cap, and that was all Alex had time to see before she threw herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and Bobby stumbled back as he suddenly found himself supporting all of her weight.

"Careful, princess." Bobby's arms supported her as Alex buried her face in his neck, eyes squeezed shut as she held him tight. "A man's gotta breathe."

"I missed you so fucking much." Her words were mumbled into the hunter's neck, warm and solid, but Alex reluctantly loosened her grip and dropped back down onto the floor. She could feel the wetness in her eyes, and she dragged her sleeve across her face to chase away the tears.

"I missed you, too." Bobby's shoulders fell, and he stretched out his arms one more time. "Alright, come 'ere." He grunted as Alex pressed herself into him, tucking her head just below his chin.

"I hate to break this up, but we need to get moving. The prison is close." Castiel's voice was tight with displeasure, and Alex stepped away with an unenthusiastic nod. "Now that Alex is here, the angels will be able to find us much quicker."

Alex scowled over at him, but she quickly let the expression drop away when she saw Bobby's frown. "I opened the doors to all of the heavens around me," he slowly explained. "That should keep them busy for the time being. And what do you mean, 'now that she's here'?" he asked. "I thought she's an angel just like you. And where's Dean?"

"You've ... missed a lot," Alex began, but Castiel hurriedly spoke over her. "Dean's, uh ... he's resting," he lied as he started down the hall. "He's ... sick, and ..."

"Try again." Bobby's voice was sharp, and he lengthened his stride so he could get in front of the seraph, planting his feet so they stopped in the middle of the hall.

Alex felt Castiel's eyes turn onto her, but she refused to meet his gaze; he had started the lie, and he could finish it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders fall defeatedly. "Dean doesn't know we're doing this," he admitted.

"Well, that's a page right out of the Winchester playbook, ain't it?" Bobby looked down at Alex with a shake of his head. "You're just going along with this?"

"What else could I do?" the ex-angel retorted. "Dean's completely given up, so we're the only ones left who haven't. You've been gone a long time, Bobby. Things have changed." She watched how Castiel's face darkened, and she nodded towards him. "Keep walking. You're the one who said we're short on time."

Bobby fell in step beside her as the seraph continued leading the way through heaven, and Alex shoved her hands deep into her pockets. "Everything okay between the two of you?" she heard Bobby ask, and she defensively shrugged her shoulders.

"Like I said, you've missed a lot. The angels fell from heaven, and they're only just getting back on their feet. The reason they fell ... it's because of Metatron. He took mine and Castiel's grace for the spell, and I ... we were human for a while. Then we stole grace from a few angels and were sort of ... half-angels, and then I just recently lost mine because it was out of control." She yanked her hands out of her pocket as she scowled at the ground. "I'm human again until we find our grace — if there's any left."

"I'm sorry." Bobby's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex leaned into the comforting touch. "So that's why Cas thinks the angels will be able to find you."

"Actually, it's because Alex sold her soul to Crowley, and now every angel within ten miles of here will be able to feel it." Castiel spat out the words, and Alex scowled at his tactless remark.

"You what?" The hand on her shoulder tightened, and Alex quickly shrugged it off before the grip could grow any stronger. "What were you thinking, you idjit?"

"God, maybe I was thinking I needed to save my fucking mate!" Alex's voice rose angrily, but Castiel just snorted. She bristled, Bobby forgotten. "You were human with no idea how to survive, the angels were hunting you down, and I had no way to see if you were okay! Did you want me to just leave you to die? And you," she added over to Bobby, "you can't talk because you literally did the exact same thing."

Bobby frowned, but Alex felt her anger soften to see it was one of sympathy, not anger. "How long did he give ya?"

"Two years. That was last May. But as soon as we find my grace, that deal will be broken." Alex fell silent as Castiel came to a stop outside a door, and she looked around in confusion. "This doesn't look familiar," she finally admitted. "Are we near the jail yet?"

"It's on the other side of this door," Castiel promised, and Alex let her shoulders fall to find his voice still carrying a tinge of frustration. "You and I left through the other side when we were last here."

"You mean you've visited this place before?"

Alex looked up at Bobby, stifling a grimace at the memory. "More like ended up in one of the cells," she corrected, and this time she couldn't stop the twinge in her chest that returned at the memory of Gadreel. "Not fun."

She fell silent as the door creaked open, and she lifted her chin as she stalked in after Castiel. "Well, howdy, fellas." The familiar, grating voice of Metatron reached her ears, and the ex-angel felt her face tighten as they came to rest in front of the scribe's cell.

"This is the Scribe of God?" Bobby's gruff voice was sharp and scathing. "He looks like a Fraggle."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." Metatron smiled over at Bobby from where he sat on the concrete bench, one leg crossed over the other as he regarded the three intruders. "That was an excellent program."

Bobby lifted an eyebrow, unsure what to think, and Alex glanced up to see Castiel's face darkening. "Metatron, we are here —"

"I know why you're here, Asstiel." The scribe cut him off with a wave of his hand. "And I'm not interested." He leaned forward, and anger sparkled in his dark eyes. "I told you I would rather die than let Dean Winchester use me as his personal punching bag again."

"Don't worry," Alex promised, and she stepped forward, wrapping her hands around the iron bars. "Dean isn't here today, which means it's my turn. You get to be my punching bag."

For the briefest of seconds, hesitation crossed through Metatron's eyes, and Alex smirked before his features returned to their resting appearance of calm control. "Ah," he chuckled. "The B team, huh? Interesting." He motioned off towards the far wall with a disinterested wave of his hand. "Keys are over there. Chop chop."

"Are you sure this is the only way?" The frown in Bobby's words was evident, and Alex's fingers tightened around the warm metal bars.

"Unfortunately." Castiel reached into his pocket to retrieve a pair of sigil-etched handcuffs. "Put these on," he ordered the scribe, and Metatron rolled his eyes when the seraph tossed them onto the ground at his feet.

Alex stepped aside as Metatron locked the cuffs around his wrists before he pushed himself to his feet, and two lazy steps carried him up to the bars. "Now, now," he chided at Alex's low glare, "I know we've had our differences, but bygones should be bygones."

"You stole my grace." Alex lifted her chin as she kept her voice cold. "You stabbed me and left me to die."

"Yes." Metatron's smile faded. "But the important thing is that you survived, am I right?" The grin returned, and Alex scoffed loudly as she stepped aside to let Castiel through with the key.

The prison door swung open, and Metatron's smug grin returned as he stepped out of the cell. Castiel's grimace deepened, but he took up a position behind the scribe, a hand on his shoulder to guide him back out the door. Alex peered out into the hallway, waving them forward when the coast was clear.

The way back to the gate felt twice as long as the journey there, each glance around the corner tense and terrifying. Bobby took the lead, leading them briskly down the halls back towards heaven's gate, and Alex took up the rear, her angel blade drawn nervously as she kept a watchful eye over her shoulder.

She blinked in surprise as they stopped in front of door 42, and she straightened up, tucking her weapon back into her jeans. "Looks like this is it, huh?" Bobby kept his voice low, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

The seraph pulled the door open, and light poured through, lighting up the hall. Metatron stepped forward, ready to leave, and with a scowl, Castiel held him back. "Alex, go first," he ordered.

"I'll take up the rear." Alex nodded towards the door, pointedly ignoring how the seraph's eyes darkened at her disagreement. "Get Metatron out, and I'll be right behind. I don't want to be here any more than you do," she hurriedly promised. The light glowed brighter as Castiel and Metatron stepped through, and Alex turned to Bobby, hesitation dragging at her feet. "I wish I could stay —"

"This ain't your home." Bobby shook his head, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut as she blinked back tears. "Here." The rustle of paper had her looking up, and the hunter pulled out two envelopes out of his pocket. "I didn't know if you or Sam were coming, but ... give this to him, would ya?" He handed them to Alex, and the ex-angel kept them out only long enough to read the names scrawled across the tops.

"Of course." Alex threw herself into his arms, holding him tight as she clenched her teeth to keep the tears inside. "When — when we get our grace back, I'll come visit." She forced herself to pull away, and with one last look at the old hunter, she threw herself through the door.

The pressure crushed the air from her lungs, and Alex grit her teeth, eyes squeezed shut against the light. It was gone within mere seconds, and she felt the sand give way beneath her feet as she stumbled through. The wooden edge caught against her toes, and the ex-angel fell forward onto the hard dirt."Oh, smell that?" She could hear Metatron's voice, and Alex forced her eyes open as she shakily pushed herself back onto her feet. "That smells like freedom." The scribe drew in a deep, dramatic breath through his nose, and Alex glanced over to find Sam standing in front of the angel, his arms crossed. "Well, let's go. I call shotgun!"

"You don't get to make demands, Metatron." Castiel yanked the scribe back to his side with a growl. "You're not in charge here."

"Oh, I'm afraid I am." Metatron shook himself of the seraph's hold, his lips turned up into a smug grin. "I know about the Mark. I have your Grace." His eyes swung over to Alex as he spoke, and the ex-angel pursed her lips as his gaze finally landed on Sam. "I make the rules. It's called leverage. Learn it, live it, love it."

Sam nodded over towards Castiel, and Alex stepped aside to let the seraph grab Metatron by the shirt. He shoved him up against the metal pole of the swing set, and the scribe grunted at the impact. Castiel moved again,metal flashing in the night air. The tip of the angel blade sliced through Metatron's throat, and blue grace oozed out into a small, glass vial that Castiel held in his other hand.

The scribe's eyes stretched wide as his grace disappeared, and Castiel placed his palm over the wound, healing it before he stepped away, tucking the grace deep inside of his pocket. Alex smirked at how Metatron's mouth was hanging open, unable to process what had happened so quickly. "You —" Anger flashed in his eyes as he stepped away from the swings, but he cut off with a scream of surprise as Sam's gun discharged with a loud bang.

Metatron dropped to the ground, grabbing at his knee as he howled again in pain. "We have your grace, Metatron." Castiel stepped forward, and the scribe scowled up at them. "You're mortal now. So you will answer our questions, or Sam will, uh, what's the phrase?" Castiel reached down, yanking Metatron's head up by his hair. "Blow your fucking brains out. It's called leverage, Metatron."

"Learn it, live it, love it," Sam taunted, and Metatron ripped his hair out of Castiel's hold. "Now, how do we get rid of the Mark?"

"I-I don't know." Metatron threw his hands up when Sam lifted his gun, and the scribe flinched away. "I don't know!" he insisted. "No, I-it's old magic — God-level magic! O-Or Lucifer level, but you can't ask him, exactly, can you?" His eyes turned onto Alex, and the ex-angel curled her fists at her side. She pivoted on one foot, her other leg snapping up to connect with Metatron's head, and the scribe fell onto the ground with a shout of pain.

"What about the tablets?" Castiel demanded, and Alex returned to her original stance with a dark scowl down at the man.

"No, th-there's ... there's nothing in them about the Mark."

Sam looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel gave a small, helpless shrug. "So when you said 'the river ends at the source,' " he asked, "that was —"

"I was just making up crap, trying to buy time til I could screw you over!" Metatron watched as Sam scoffed, and he insisted, "What? It worked before!"

"He's telling the truth." The words sounded bitter coming out of Castiel's mouth, and the scribe looked up at him with an eager nod. Sam's eyebrows lifted, surprised at the seraph's decision, and Castiel stepped away. "Shoot him."

"No!" The yelled word was hoarse, his eyes stretched wide in fear as Sam lifted his gun to point it at Metatron's head. "No, no!" he begged. "Your grace!" He turned to Castiel, his hands clasped together. "I wasn't lying about that! There's still some left. I'll take you to it!"

Sam hesitated, and his hazel eyes turned over onto Castiel, who had frozen in surprise. "It's your call, Cas."

"I can take you there!" Metatron repeated. "There's enough for both of you. You — you want it to break her deal, right? T-That's why you need it!"

Indecision flickered in the seraph's gaze for a moment before he turned to Alex. The indecision hardened, and Castiel's face darkened. "Get on your feet," he ordered Metatron. "And get in the car."

Sam cleared his weapon with a grim nod of acceptance, and the scribe scrambled to his feet the best he could, stumbling slightly as his busted kneecap gave out under his weight. "You made the right call," he murmured to Castiel as the seraph moved past, and Alex hurried after him as he led Metatron back towards the Lincoln Continental. "Sam." Alex reached out to grab the Winchester by the arm, forcing him to stop as Castiel roughly shoved Metatron into the back of the car. "Uh, Bobby ... he told me to give you this." She dug the envelopes out of her pocket, handing him the one labeled Sam.

"T-Thanks." The Winchester reverently took the envelope, his fingers running along the crumpled edges. "How — how is he?"

"He's good. He's happy." Alex blinked back the tears, sniffing to hold them in. She heard the car door slam, and she shook her head, stepping away and shoving her own note into her jacket. "We need to get going. Have ... have Dean call me if he needs me, okay?" She glanced back towards the car to meet Metatron's low glare. "God willing, we won't be long."

"Of course. Good luck." Sam nodded towards her and Castiel, who had circled around to stand at her side, and Alex watched as he crossed the parking lot to where her Marquis was parked, hidden in the shadows.

She turned to Castiel as the car roared to life, shoulders falling apologetically as she met the seraph's gaze. "Listen," she started, "I'm sorry I followed you through the gate, okay?"

"Are you?" Castiel's head tipped to one side, his face darkening as he spoke. "Do you actually wish you hadn't gone along?"

"No!" Alex tipped her head back in reluctant agreement. "No, okay? I don't regret jumping through that gate, because I would have given anything to have seen Bobby again. I — I was just telling you what you wanted to hear, alright?" She narrowed her eyes as she turned to look at Metatron, unable to read the scribe's expression. "I'm sorry. I — I shouldn't be so hard on you. I'm just anxious to find our grace," she finally said. "Crowley's been on my ass about a lot of things, and it'll be good to finally tell him to fuck off."

"And it will be good to not have to worry about you." Castiel reached out to take her hands, and Alex took a step closer, ignoring the blush on her face. "We've lost so much after we fell ... just imagine what we can regain." He dropped her hands at the sound of pounding against the glass, the softness in his eyes hardening once again. "We should get going," he decided, stepping back, and Alex nodded her agreement. "We don't want Crowley to come looking for you before we find your grace."

"Right." Alex circled around to the other side of the car, tugging open the rusty door as she slid into the front seat. She felt Bobby's letter in her jacket pocket, but she kept it hidden as she felt Metatron's eyes on the back of her neck. She slammed the door as Castiel started the engine, and the Continental pulled out into the street and disappeared off down the road.