February 18th, 2015
Lebanon, Kansas

The bedroom was dark, the only light coming a dim lamp in the corner of the room. Alex sat at the foot of the bed, perched backwards in a chair as she stared at the unmoving body of Dean Winchester. They had been back at the bunker for almost two hours, having driven straight back from Pontiac, Illinois.

He should be waking soon.

The angel shifted uncomfortably on the wooden seat, drawing her legs up so she was crouching on it, arms resting on the wooden back. "Dean." She spoke the hunter's name, reaching out with her grace; with a twinge of frustration, she recognized it was beginning to wear thin. She probed at Dean's soul, adding. "Come on, wake up."

The Winchester stirred, eyes flickering open, and Alex stilled, not wanting to startle the hunter to violence. She watched as he reached up to run a hand down his face, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You."

"How are you feeling?" Alex lifted her chin from her forearms as she met Dean's gaze. "I'm sorry I knocked you out, but I couldn't risk any more unpredictability. And with Claire in the car ..."

Dean groaned loudly, and he swung his legs over the side of his bed as his head dropped into his hands. "Right." He fell silent, fingers digging into his scalp, and Alex waited until he spoke again. "Uh, right. I get it." He lifted his head, and the young angel shifted slightly at the intensity in his gaze. "And Sam ...?"

"Sam's in the library. He's looking for a way to remove the Mark — we all are." She paused and lowered her voice, adding, "Dean. None of us blame you for what happened. I know that's something you wouldn't do."

"Yeah, well, I did it." Dean pushed himself to his feet, and his nails dug into his forearm as he angrily scratched at the Mark. Blood welled up under his fingernails, and Alex was at his side in an instant, palm clamping over the Mark as her other hand grabbed his free wrist. Dean recoiled in surprise, and the angel tightened her grip, refusing to let him pull away. "I want it off."

"You can't get it off that way." Alex's grace slipped forward, healing the superficial wounds. "But we'll figure something out. Come on. You're not confined to your room, so you can come on out and get something to eat."

She turned, hands falling away from Dean, but the Winchester grabbed her, his calloused fingers closing around her wrist. "Wait." The intensity in his tone had the angel turning back. "I need you to do something for me."

"If you're going to ask me to kill you, the answer's no." Alex's voice was flat as she sized up the hunter. "We're not there yet."

"No. No, no, not that. I need you with me." Dean's grip tightened, and Alex tipped her head as his voice deepened in urgency. "All the time, just like how it used to be. Where you stood up to all my shit. I — I need you to stop me from doing anything else."

"Okay." The angel gently pried herself free, and Dean's hand fell back to his side. "Of course. If that's what it's going to take, of course." She crossed the room and pulled open the door. "Well, come on, then. You haven't eaten in over twelve hours, and I'm hungry, too. We'll check in with Sam on the way."

"Okay." The Winchester's face was more relaxed, clearly relieved that Alex had agreed to his terms, and he followed her out of his bedroom and down the hall.

No, yeah," she heard Sam say from the library, and she slowed down as Dean hurried past her. "I know, I know. I hear you. Dean has had to kill before. We both have. But that was —"

"That was what?" Dean moved up the library stairs, and Alex reluctantly followed after a moment's beat. Chair legs scraped as Sam rose to his feet, and Dean grimaced. "That was a massacre," he finished for his brother. "That's what it was." He looked over at Castiel, and the seraph's gaze dropped away. "There was a time I was a hunter, not a stone-cold killer. You can say it," he added when Sam and Castiel exchanged looks. "You're not wrong. I crossed the line." He extended his arm, turning it so the Mark caught in the light. "Guys, this thing's gotta go."

"That won't be easy." Castiel held out an arm, and Alex crossed over to take his hand.

"Well, then burn it off!" Dean's voice rose in desperate anger, and his face twisted in disgust as he stared down at the scar. "Cut it off!"

"It is more than just a physical thing." Castiel's words echoed those Alex had spoken earlier, and the young angel nodded in agreement. "It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect."

"Dean, we have been through all the lore." Sam discouragingly motioned to the books that lay all around him. "There's nothing."

Castiel nodded in agreement. "This reaches back to the time of creation," he explained. "It may pre-date the lore." He paused, squeezing Alex's hand as he thought before adding, "If we had the demon tablet, maybe."

Sam frowned, and he sat back down in his chair. "But you said it was missing."

"It is," the seraph agreed. He hesitated, pale lips pursing in reluctance, and Alex tipped her head curiously. "There ... may be another way," he finally said. "We may not have access to the tablet, but perhaps ... perhaps we can speak with the angel who wrote them."

"You mean Metatron?" Sam's face went blank with surprise, and his eyes swept across Castiel before landing on Dean. The Winchester was stiff, jaw clenched, and Alex dropped her mate's hand as she took a step sideways to stand between Castiel and Dean.

"Hey," she began, clearing her throat to draw everyone's attention onto her. "Are we really thinking that's a great idea? I mean, he literally tried to kill half of us, and got pretty damn close." She motioned to herself and Dean, grimacing at the memory. "Not to be rude or anything, but you're gonna have to keep a pretty close eye on me and Dean if you bring him here. Cause there's nothing I want to do more than put a bullet through his brain."

Sam and Castiel exchanged looks, and Alex waited patiently as a silent conversation passed between the two of them. She nodded over at Dean, and the Winchester consciously rolled down his sleeve over the Mark to hide it from sight. "You know what?" Sam finally said. "I think it's worth the risk. If he knows anything, then it'll be worth it."

Castiel nodded. "I'll contact Ingrid right away," he announced. "Out of all the angels, she'll be the one who will listen. Perhaps one of you should come with me."

His eyes landed on Alex, and the young angel looked up at Dean. "That okay with you?" she asked. "If it's not, I'll stay."

The Winchester gave a half-hearted shrug. "Go for it. It's not like I'm going anywhere. I'll be fine until you get back." Their shoulders brushed as he disappeared off towards the kitchen, and, with a silent nod to Castiel, Alex followed after her charge.

The engine of the Lincoln Continental rattled loudly as the car rolled down the road, and Alex fiddled impatiently with her seatbelt as she watched the trees go by. Her mate sat beside her, attention afixed on the road, but every once and a while, the young angel felt his gaze flicker over to her. "So." Alex let her seatbelt snap back to its original position, finally breaking the silence between them. "Ingrid agreed to let us talk to Metatron, huh?"

"It took some convincing, but yes." The seraph's head nodded in agreement, and he spared her a look so their eyes could meet before he turned back to the busy road. "She is meeting us at the gate at four o'clock."

Alex looked down at her phone for the time, nodding in understanding. "So, we must be almost there," she concluded. "We've been driving for over six hours."

"Our exit is in three miles." Castiel's fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, face growing distant as he drifted into his thoughts; it was only the brush of Alex's hand against his that snapped him out of it. "You and Dean seem very close," he began, his tone light in conversation, but Alex picked out the darker note of curiosity. "You asked him for permission to come with me. Why?"

"Because I'm worried about him. And because he asked for my help." Alex drew her feet up underneath her so she was sitting cross-legged on the seat, angling her body slightly towards her mate as she took a deep breath. "When Dean was a demon, Crowley had me keep an eye on him. Dean didn't always listen to me, or respect me, but I was always there. Literally. Crowley had us on some sort of stupid leash." She waited for the seraph to nod; this information wasn't new. "Even though that's all over with, Dean wants me to do all that again. I guess it'll make him feel better, plus ... he'll probably need the supervision with — with the Mark and all."

"And it was Dean who asked for this?" Castiel guided the car off of the highway, and Alex nodded quickly. "That's good. That means he still has some desire to control the Mark."

"I just figure that I should do whatever I can. I spent a lot of time with Dean, and I ... I had to talk him down from a lot of situations. I guess you could say I know his angry side pretty well." She fell silent, gaze turning out the window in search of the playground that marked the gate to heaven. When she turned back, Castiel's face had grown dark. "Cas?" The seraph didn't answer, and she prodded him in the shoulder. "What is it?"

"When we were in Pontiac ..." The seraph paused, taking a moment to gather his words. "While Dean and I were at the diner alone, he made me promise to kill him if the Mark ever took control."

"He asked you, too?" The young angel couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "He told me he asked me because you and Sam wouldn't be able to do it."

"Well, he was right. I promised, but ... I don't think I could do it." The Continental pulled up into a parking lot, and the engine died with a spluttering cough. "When did he ask you?"

"Before that. Two days before, I think." Alex's face twisted in concentration as she thought back before giving a nod of confirmation. "I thought it was just because he had a nightmare or something; I didn't think he was being serious." She followed the seraph out of the car, her expression dark and pensive. "I promised him, too."

The seraph didn't answer, his attention turning to the two angels at the playground. One was a woman, her hair dyed a vibrant purple, and the second inhabited the body of a child. They stopped, the girl halfway down a red slide, as Castiel stopped beside the sandbox, staring down at the complex sigil drawn in the sand. "They should be here by now," he announced fretfully, looking back towards the two guards. "Was there word of a delay?"

The purpled-haired woman shook her head. "All I do is watch the door. Who are you expecting, Castiel?" Her eyes slid over to Alex, sharpening a the sight of her, and Alex shifted backwards to the edge of the playground.

As her feet touched the line of grass, the sandbox lit up. Blue light poured upwards, and the sand lifted in a billowing cloud, and the young angel narrowed her eyes against the blinding pillar. When it faded, two forms stood in the center of the sigil. One was a woman, head held high as she regarded the seraph in front of her. The second was shorter, dressed in a cardigan sweater; even with his head covered by a dark sac, Alex recognized him as Metatron. Castiel stepped forward, dipping his head cordially. "Thank you, Ingrid."

His warm demeanor was not returned. "I did as you asked at great risk, Castiel," she reminded stiffly.

"I know," the seraph agreed. "I approached you because I know you share my belief that it is the angels' mission to protect humans. It's possible I can eliminate a great threat to them, but I will need his help."

Ingrid's gaze turned past him to rest on Alex, and her tight-lipped frown deepened into one of displeasure. Alex rolled back her shoulders, ready for criticism, but Ingrid merely turned back to Castiel. "He must be returned intact," she warned. "Is that clear?" Her gaze once more turned back onto Alex, and she added, "I know some in your present company might hold a certain grudge."

"I won't touch him." Alex raised one hand, three middle fingers lifted. "Scout's honor." The angel looked less than convinced, so she added, "His information and your trust is more important than revenge for a plan that didn't kill me. No harm will come to him at my hand."

"Very well." Ingrid guided the prisoner over to Castiel, and the seraph clamped a hand on Metatron's shoulder as the portal opened once again.

Castiel pulled the bag off from Metatron's head, and the scribe's face contorted into a smirk. "Told you last time I saw you I'd get out of the slammer."

"It's temporary, trust me." Castiel nudged him off towards the car, and Alex stepped forward to walk on the scribe's other side.

"Well," Metatron began, apparently disinterested in Castiel's cold comment, "speaking of temporary, you must've borrowed some more grace. The both of you. You're looking very good. Of course," he added slyly, we both know that won't last. Is that why I'm here? You think I'm gonna help you?"

"This isn't about me," the seraph ground out, and Alex purposely bumped into Metatron as he stepped, causing him to stumble slightly.

"Of course not." The words were accompanied by a sidelong glare over at Alex, and the young angel didn't bother to hold back a smug smile. "The great Castiel never stoops to such selfishness. So what, then?"

The dungeon door swung open, and Alex shoved the blindfolded scribe into the darkened room. Sam followed close behind, circling around to adjust the wooden chair as Alex yanked the bag off of Metatron's head. The scribe blinked as the lights flickered on, and he took a moment to run his eyes over the dreary concrete walls. "Lovely room." Sam shoved him into the chair, and Metatron sat down with a thud. "It's where you bring the kinky chicks, am I right?" he added teasingly.

Alex frowned, and Sam retrieved a iron chain from the corner of the room. "I'll be asking the questions here," he reminded sharply, meticulously securing the angel to the wooden chair. "You ... your only job is to provide information."

"Ah. Well, information does happen to be a specialty. Got about two billion fun facts up here." He motioned towards his temple best he could with his arms bound to his side, and despite his restraints, his eyes sparkled lightly. "Of course," he added after a second, "whether I choose to cough one up or not is another matter."

Sam stepped back, and Alex shifted forward to stand at his side. "We need to know how to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm."

"What?" The humor in Metatron's eyes fell away to disbelief, and he looked between Sam and Alex. "He's back? What is it with you guys and not staying dead?" His rhetorical question was followed by a pause, and Alex gave a disinterested shrug as the scribe's gaze fell into one of curiosity. "Okay, fine. Because of the Mark?" He leaned forward, and the chains clinked together. "So ... he's a demon."

"No."

Sam's answer was short, and the scribe leaned back. "Okay, what then?" he asked, and he chuckled slightly at Sam's troubled silence. "What, did he 'kill a human' or something?" His words were accompanied by air quotes, and, when Sam crossed his arms across his chest, Metatron's eyes stretched wide in amazement. "He's gone nuclear!" he declared, and Alex frowned at the almost triumphant note of laughter. "Total foaming at the mouth, balls-out maniac. Ah — that's fantastic!"

"Do you know how to remove it?" Sam demanded, and Metatron scoffed.

"Maybe." The scribe's shoulders rose and fell with his cryptic answer. "But here's the thing. You expect any help out of me, you keep that crazy brother of yours on a short leash."

It was Sam's turn to scoff. "Buddy, I don't care what happens to you. You killed my brother." Footsteps followed his words, and Alex turned to see Dean step into the archive room. The hunter's eyes were dark, and Alex moved over to the door to block his view of the Scribe of God.

"You good?" she murmured.

"Yeah, of course." Dean kept his eyes trained on her, but the young angel saw them flicker off towards Metatron once or twice. "Where's Cas?"

"Uh, he stepped out to go talk to Claire. He said he'd be back soon." Alex stepped aside to let the Winchester through, following close behind as she watched him stiffen.

"Ain't life a bitch?" Metatron greeted Dean, and Alex moved cautiously at the hunter's side, ready to intervene should it be necessary. "Nebbishly little guy — me — always sticking it to the lunkhead jocks."

"You know what? Screw the Mark." Dean glared down at Metatron, his voice sharp with anger, but his fists remained at his side. "Let's just kill him."

Metatron chuckled, not fooled by Dean's proverbial bark, and he turned his head to look over at Sam. "Boy, he really is a mess. Who knew the Mark was so toxic? Well," he corrected, "actually, I did." The scribe laughed at his own joke, and Alex cast a wary look up at Dean as Metatron's voice darkened. "You know it is going to own you sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, so, how do we get rid of it?"

Metatron's head recoiled in mock offense. "What, just like that, social hour's over?" he joked, and Sam frowned.

"Yeah, and now we're moving on to our keynote speaker," the tall Winchester retorted, and he stepped forward to stand at his brother's side, arms folded across his chest.

"Which is you," Dean added. "With us asking the questions. And me taking the personal pleasure of carving the answers out of you." His fists curled at his side as his eyes flashed, and Alex reached over to put a warning hand on his shoulder.

Even Metatron didn't miss the threat, and he leaned back, hands going up defensively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, badass! Lighten up! Why do you just assume I'm not gonna be helpful?"

"Because you're a dickwad."

"But I'm your dickwad." The scribe turned his eyes up to Sam, pouting slightly in faux-innocence. "I have a special place in my non-heart for all of you. To which end — ta-daa! I'd be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit." His eyes twinkled, and Alex frowned, already displeased by whatever may follow. "To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old bud — the First Blade."

"What?" Sam uttered the exclamation of surprise at the same time as Alex, and the two exchanged worried looks as Metatron laughed.

"As I said: ain't life a bitch." His grin widened as he looked between the three of them, and with a jerk of his head, Sam motioned his brother out of the room.

Dean followed with a glare, leaving Alex to take up the rear. "We'll be back eventually," she told the scribe, spitting out each word, and she flicked the lights off as she slammed the bookshelves closed.

The Winchesters were already halfway to the stairs, and Alex ran after them, falling in step behind Sam. "This is the single worst idea I've ever heard," he was insisting. "You just whacked a houseful of people, and that's when the Blade was nowhere around. And now you wanna be in actual contact with it?"

"We don't know that I have to be in contact with it." Dean hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and Sam and Alex exchanged skeptical glances before they followed. "All we know is that we need it."

"No, no, all we know is that he says we need it," Sam retorted. "We don't even know what he wants us to do with it."

"A step at a time, alright?" Dean reached into his pocket and dug out his cell phone. "We play it safe, we learn whatever the spell is, how it works, and we keep the Blade out of my hands."

Alex reached forward before the Winchester could bring the phone up to his ear. "Crowley?" she guessed. When Dean nodded, she shook her head. "Just — just wait."

"Are we sure this isn't the Mark making you want the damn thing?" Sam pressed before the young angel could continue. "I mean, why would we trust anything Metatron says?"

"I don't trust Metatron." Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket with a loud scoff.

"Hey, hey. We're not saying you do." Alex rounded on the brothers with a frown. "Just hold on a second, okay? Metatron knows that the minute we put that thing in Dean's hands, it's over for him. Listen. If he has one strength, it's long-term planning. He gives us one piece of the puzzle, we start asking for more. We start trusting him; not a lot, but a little. That — that's what he wants."

"So you think we actually need the Blade." Sam's voice was flat, but Alex gave a firm nod.

"But I don't think we should go rushing to get our hands on it," she finished. "It's clearly not the only piece of the puzzle, and the farther it stays away from Dean, the better." She fished her phone out of her back pocket and scrolled through her contacts to find Crowley's number. "Let me call Crowley. Me," she repeated when Dean frowned. "I can't imagine he's hyped to speak with you. I'll ask him to meet with us, and we'll explain what's going on. See what he says." Her eyes turned onto Dean, and her voice sharpened. "If he's anything like I think he is, he'll want the Mark gone just about as much as you and I."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and after a few seconds, Sam caved. "Okay," he finally agreed. "See if he'll meet us behind the theatre in Smith Center in twenty minutes."

"Sure thing." Alex turned her back to them and made her way towards the library as her phone rang, making sure to put enough distance between her and the brothers before the demon answered. The line clicked after the third ring, and Alex leaned up against one of the library chairs. "Hey, Crowley."

"Mouse. It's been a while, hasn't it. What do you want?"

"I need you to meet us in the alley behind the theatre in Smith Center in, oh, say, twenty minutes." Alex turned her head to watch the Winchesters making their way towards the iron staircase, and she waved at them to signal she would catch up.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. We need to talk with you. Sam and Dean will be there soon." Her name on Dean's tongue had her looking up from her phone, and she waved him away when he pointed towards the door. "This is important. See you soon."

She didn't wait for the King of Hell to give his assent before she hung up — hopefully leaving the choice as a command would increase his chance of showing up — and hurried up after Dean. "I'm right here." She slipped past the Winchester and through of the heavy iron door, leaving Dean to follow. "Alright, let's go."

Rain drummed on the hood of the Impala, and Alex sunk down deeper into the cold leather, regretting having climbed into the car in the first place. The Winchesters sat in the front seat, seemingly unaffected by the dreary weather, and the young angel drew her sweatshirt tighter around her with a sigh. Her noise broke the silence, and Sam turned to look back at her. "You sure Crowley's coming?"

"I didn't give him much of a choice," came Alex's weary response. "But between you and me, I won't mind him never showing up if it meant I didn't have to get out in this rain."

The sky flickered, and Crowley appeared in front of the Impala's hood, hands casually planted in his suit pockets. Alex's head lolled back, a wordless groan on her lips. Of course: if she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn he did that on purpose. The Impala doors slammed shut as the hunters got out to join him, and with a sigh, Alex followed.

The rain pummeled her hair, and she drew her hood up in a futile attempt to stay dry and she circled around to stand in front of the demon. "Well?" The King of Hell was already soaked, but he barely seemed to notice. "What is it that is so important you had to drag me away from my kingdom?"

Dean scoffed, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. "Uh, listen," he began, "we need a favor." The silent lifting of the demon's eyes served as his prompt, and Sam glanced over at his brother. "We need you to bring us the Mark of Cain."

Silence. The demon's eyes flashed in surprise, and they narrowed as he stared up at Sam. Alex shifted impatiently, hands drawn up deep into her sleeves, and as the silence dragged on, she finally cleared her throat. "Really, Crowley?" Dean finally snapped. "Radio silence?"

"Say something," Sam prompted, and the King of Hell's mouth finally opened.

"You want me to do what?" he bellowed, and Alex's eyes widened in surprise at his anger.

Sam brushed back his soaked hair, repeating, "We need you to bring back —"

"Bring back the Blade?" Crowley didn't let him finish, his anger still boiling over. "I don't think so!" His brown eyes turned onto Alex. "You. You called me here. Did you actually think I would agree to this?!"

"You don't have to give the thing to me," Dean reminded tightly, and the demon's head recoiled.

"I should say not!" he retorted.

"No, no, just retrieve it and hang out it until we need it," Dean finished, and Alex grunted in agreement.

Crowley's eyes turned onto her, flickering up to Sam as he snapped his jaw shut. "You two." He pointed to the both of them, and Alex tucked her hands into her soaked pockets. "You're supposed to be the sane ones. You onboard with this?"

"Yeah." Sam gave a tight-lipped nod, and after a second, Alex echoed him. "It's our best shot at removing the Mark."

"Insane." Crowley shook his head in dismay, and Alex stepped aside to let him pace past. "You want me to procure the most dangerous weapon on the planet for Dean Winchester, the man who goes mental every time he touches it!" He spun around to face them again. "I thought you'd want to go for a beer, catch a film."

Sam looked over at Dean, eyes sparkling with exasperation, and when he turned back to Crowley, he kept his voice slow. "Look, if this plan works ..."

"It's not a plan," the demon retorted. "It's a probable death sentence for me and my kind."

"If it works," Sam repeated, ignoring the interruption, "it's better for you. Look, when the Mark is gone, the Blade can't operate." He reached up to brush his wet hair out of his face, hazel eyes dark in exasperation.

"Win-win," Dean promised, but when Crowley just frowned, he repeated, "Huh? Win-win."

"Stop that." Crowley waved off the Winchester's ridiculous words. "It can't operate. It's hidden."

"Okay." Dean tried again, his voice growing as sharp as the demon's. "The Blade might be powered down, but the Mark is not. I'm doing everything I can to keep it together." Crowley scoffed, and Dean's eyes flashed. "You think the body count is high right now? Wait til Hal takes over!"

Alex squinted, not sure what exactly the hunter was referencing, but the reference was apparently not lost on the King of Hell. His mouth was open, half-ready to form a response, but Sam was quicker. "We figure you stashed the Blade somewhere far away ..."

"Damn right." Crowley turned his nose up stubbornly as he regarded the three hunters. "It's in the crypt with my bones."

"Alright." Sam nodded in accordance with the demon's revelation, but when Crowley made no other move, he added, "Well?"

The King of Hell looked between Sam and Dean, and after a second of careful consideration, his shoulders fell in disgust and defeat. "I hate Guam this time of year," he muttered.

Something else left his lips, but Alex barely heard. The air twinged, growing cold as if something was suddenly retracted, and she shivered at the brisk gusts that swirled in its absence. "Hey." She interrupted Sam, who was currently speaking, head lifted and eyes narrowed against the rain. "Did you feel that?"

"You ... you mean the wind?" Sam blinked in surprise, unsure what she was speaking of.

"No." Alex brushed him off, immediately turning her attention onto Crowley. The demon was standing stiffly, head slightly tipped as if listening, and she repeated her question to him. "Did you feel it? It ... I don't know what that was."

Crowley hesitated, eyes narrowed cautiously. However, after a second, he gave a small shake of his head. "Never you mind." He turned to the Winchesters. "I'll get the First Blade. But. Neither of you are going to lay an eye it until I say so. Understand?" Both hunters nodded, and the demon dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "I want to speak with Alex. Alone, if you don't mind."

Alex scowled at the idea of being left alone in the rain, but she gave Sam a nod of agreement. Neither Sam nor Dean argued, and, with a cautious look at Crowley, they retreated into the car. "Well?" Alex adjusted the hood, already soaked through, and with a reluctant shrug, she pushed it off. "What do you want?"

"You remember the witch. Rowena. My mother."

Alex, halfway through swallowing, choked in surprise, and she thudded a fist against her chest to clear her airway. "Mother?" she repeated, and she looked back at Sam and Dean, eyes stretched wide in disbelief. "Mother. Your mother."

"Yes, yes." Crowley waved the idea off as if it was of no importance to either of them. "Son a witch." His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered. "She's a manipulative bitch — borderline crude, but, what's the saying? Keep your enemies close ... something something something."

"Why — why are you telling me this?" Alex's thin grace snapped out, feeling the cold, damp air. "That thing I felt —"

"Witchcraft, I imagine. Something us demons can't feel until it's too late, unfortunately." Crowley's voice dropped into a whisper, and the air grew warmer as he shifted close. "I don't know who I can trust anymore. Not my demons — definitely not her. But you; she won't manipulate you." His eyes narrowed, twinkling in displeasure. "I never thought it would come to this, but you may be the only I can count on."

Alex scoffed, doing her best to cover up her own surprise. "You should know as much as I do how bad of an idea that is," she warned, and the hint of a smile tugged on the King's lips.

"Keep your eyes open. I may call on you again soon." Crowley stepped away, and Alex shivered as the air grew cold again without the demon's heat. "Go get dry. I'll see you soon."

He disappeared, vanishing into thin air, and Alex jumped into the back of the Impala as the engine purred to life. "What did Crowley want?" Sam didn't look back over his shoulder as he spoke, and Alex shrugged as she shucked off her drenched outer layer.

"Nothing important," she lied. "Just his usual bullshit. Intimation, mockery." She dropped the sopping fabric onto the car floor, cold fingers running up and down her bare arms as she waited for the heat to kick in. Her phone, laying dry on the seat next to her, dinged, and the young angel looked down at the text from Castiel. "I'll let Cas know what's going on, but as soon as we get back, I'm taking a hot shower." She heard a chuckle from Sam, and she reached for her phone as the Impala backed up onto the street and drove away.

Alex pulled Sam's hoodie tighter around her as she stepped out of her room, drawing her wet hair up into a messy bun. Her grace stretched out, carefully avoiding the dungeon and the angel inside as she sought out the Winchesters. She felt them down the hall, their souls close together, and she followed them back into the library.

The brothers were seated at the war table, and both hunters had a beer at their side. Sam's head was buried in his laptop, and he jumped as Alex dropped down into the seat between him and Dean. "Hey," she greeted. "Finding anything?"

"No." Dean's hand thumped against the table in disgust and frustration. "I don't know why we even try. There was nothing in the lore before, and there's nothing here now."

There was a creak above their heads, and all three looked up to watch the bunker door open. Castiel stalked through, his dress shoes clicking against the metal alcove as he crossed over to the stairs. "The First Blade is back into play and Crowley is the one getting it?" he seraph demanded, his voice sharp and incredulous, and he hurried down the stairs to stand in front of them. "I don't mean to be an alarmist, but —"

"Hello to you, too." Alex rose to her feet to greet her mate, frowning slightly at his rushed and angered entrance. "How's Claire?"

"She's gone." Castiel brushed off her question, his eyes seeking out Dean. "What were you thinking?"

"Yeah, well, you know us," Dean joked wryly. "When we screw ourselves, we like to go whole hog."

"Claire's gone?" Alex put a hand on Castiel's chest to regain his attention, and the seraph reluctantly turned back down to her.

"She took off." Exasperation filled his voice at the interruption, but it quickly dropped away. "I don't know why. I — I should have stopped her. But I am certain that she is destined for more trouble and disappointment. She is so ... so full of rage."

Alex's hand fell away, and Dean's gaze dropped to the table. "Listen, man," he said after a second, "if I could make it better, I would."

"It's actually why I'm here." Castiel pushed past Alex to stand in front of the Winchester, and the young angel frowned. "Well, one of the reasons anyways. I was hoping you might reach out to her."

"Me?" Dean repeated, and Castiel gave a grave nod. "Seriously?" The Winchester shook his head incredulously. "I'm probably the last person she would wanna hear from."

For a moment, the seraph looked at a loss for words. "I thought there would be a connection," he finally admitted. "One extremely messed up human to another. You could explain why you murdered her only friend."

Dean's eyes flashed first in surprise, and then in hurt, and he lifted his beer bottle to his lips as he scoffed dryly. "Well, when you put it like that."

Castiel defeatedly dropped down into the seat across from the Winchester, apparently unaware at the offense taken at his words. "All I know is she won't talk to me. I thought if she understood the kind of man Randy was and the danger she was in, she might ..."

He trailed off, shaking his head, and Dean's chest rose and fell in a reluctant sigh. "What the hell. Why not? Long shots seem to be the theme around here." His palms hit the table as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna go make a sandwich."

He stalked off towards the kitchen, and Alex watched him go until he was out of sight. "Hey." She put a hand on her mate's shoulder, dipping her head to press a kiss on his temple. "Welcome back. Either of you want a sandwich?" she added, glancing over at Sam. "I can make you one while I babysit Dean."

"Uh, no. I'm good." Sam's hazel eyes drifted off towards the hall through which his brother had vanished, falling silent. When no other response came, Alex shrugged and hurried after Dean.

True to his word, the Winchester was in the kitchen. His phone was up against his ear, and Alex paused in the doorway until he was done. "Hey, it's Dean," he was saying. "Look, Claire, we need to talk in person. Just, tell me where, okay? Call me." He hunt up, turning around, and a gutteral curse sounded in his throat at the sight of her. "Fucking hell," he swore, and he shoved his phone back into his pocket with a scowl. "Don't do that."

"You're the one who wanted me to follow you around." Alex stepped into the kitchen and took a seat at the metal island. "So. Sandwich. What are we feeling?"

"Turkey." Dean crossed over to the fridge and pulled out a ziploc bag. "And bacon." He pulled out a second bag, and Alex grunted in acceptance, watching as he fetched a head of lettuce from the bottom shelf as well. His phone rang suddenly, and the Winchester jumped to answer, juggling the ingredients in his hands as he fumbled for his phone. He dumped the food onto the island as he answered, and Alex busied herself with digging out a cold slice of bacon from the bag. "That's good to hear," she heard Dean say after a second, and she purposefully wrapped her grace in knots to keep from eavesdropping.

Dean listened for another five seconds before he hung up, and the young angel finally let her curiosity well up. "Claire?" she guessed.

"Nope. Crowley." The Winchester dug through the pantry in search of bread, and Alex's head tipped in interest. "He's got the Blade." His voice was calm, disinterested even, as he returned to the island and tossed the bread beside the meat, and his eyes swept the kitchen. "Mayo," he announced.

Alex frowned, but after a second, she pushed her away her suspicion; there was no reason to doubt Dean's lack of intrigue; the King of Hell had already promised to keep the weapon as far away from Dean as possible. "We keep mayo in the fridge, dumbass," she reminded when the hunter started digging through the cabinets. "Sam keeps having to move it there when you don't put it back."

A bag of chips rustled as the Winchester pulled it free, and she leaned back slightly as it was tossed onto the island in front of her. "It doesn't need refrigeration," she heard muttered in retaliation. "I don't like it cold." Dean shook the jas as he pulled it from within the fridge, ripping off the lid and tossing it next to the bread as he returned to the island. He paused, eyes sweeping across the parts as he ran down his mental list, and after a second, he gave a nod of confirmation. "Alright. Before we do this, I, uh, I'm gonna go take a leak. Be right back."

He brushed past Alex, and the angel turned in her seat to watch him walk out the door. "I'll wait here," she called, and Dean waved a hand in acknowledgement before he disappeared out of sight.

Alex turned back to the pile of food, pulling the bag of potato chips closer as she looked down at her phone. There was a text from a hunter — an old friend of Bobby's — and Alex typed out a half-interested reply; the question had come in before she had even gotten into the shower, and since it hadn't been followed up by a call, it couldn't have been too urgent of an inquiry.

She swiped away the second text, this one from Crowley, reading only 'Got it,' and she tossed her phone onto the metal counter with a sigh. The First Blade was back in play. The young angel shivered at the memory of Dean's black eyes, and she hastily shoved the thought away. The Winchester was dangerous enough with only the Mark. If Crowley had any sense, he would keep it as far away from them as possible.

Footsteps drew her out of her rumination, and Alex looked up, expecting Dean. "Sam?" She tipped her head as the Winchester looked around the kitchen, and she tried to peer past him in sight of her mate. "Where's Cas?"

"Where's Dean?" Her question was met with a demand, and the young angel blinked in surprise.

"Bathroom —" She stretched her grace out towards the restrooms, searching for Dean's soul, and she frowned when she felt it in a place where it should not have been. "Shit." Alex jumped to her feet, almost tripping over her stool in her haste, and she swiped her phone off of the counter as she bolted towards the door. "He's downstairs."

"What? I thought you were watching him! Cas!" Sam followed after her, yelling the seraph's name behind him, and Alex heard a second set of footsteps break into a run behind her.

"I was!" Alex turned down the hall, sneakers skidding on the tile floor. "He said he was just going to the bathroom." She glanced back as she reached the stairs to see Sam's tight-lipped look, and she added defensively, "What? I'm sorry with — with everything else going on, t-that Dean needing to take a piss didn't trigger any red flags!" She grabbed the railings as she jumped down the stairs, trying to keep up as Sam and Castiel passed her.

"Let's try this again." She could hear Dean through the archive door, and she slid to a stop beside Sam and Castiel. "What's the next step?!"

"What is is you humans say so inelegantly?" Metatron's voice was rough, jagged with pain and scorn. "Oh yes — go fuck yourselves."

"Dean?" Alex pounded up against the door, lifting her voice above the scribe's taunt. "Hey! Open the door! Dean!" Her grace boiled up, but she forced it down as she turned to her mate. "Get this open."

"Stand back." The seraph's eye glowed blue as his grace rose up, and Alex ducked out of the way to stand behind him as he lifted a hand towards the wooden door. The wood trembled, and Alex flinched away as it suddenly exploded inwards in a shower of splinters.

She opened her eyes as Sam rushed past her, and she slipped past her mate to run after the Winchester. Dean was standing over Metatron, an angel blade glinting in the dim light, and Sam tried to wrestle it out of his hands as he dragged his brother away.

Dean struggled, and then Alex was there, one hand extended towards the hunter as she put herself between him and Metatron. "Dean! Stop!" She lifted her voice above the struggle, and Dean's green eyes swung over to her. "Drop it!"

The weapon clattered to the ground almost immediately, and Sam quickly kicked it aside. Dean's nostrils flared angrily, but the fight from his eyes was gone, and Alex turned around to give her full attention to Metatron.

The scribe's face was beaten and bruised, with blood oozing from a cut across his cheek, and Alex dropped her gaze to his chest where a thin, dark laceration traced down towards his heart. "Well, at least he's still alive," she told her mate, her voice sharp with agitation and annoyance, and she rolled back the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she put her hands on her hips. "Pity."

Metatron chuckled, his blue eyes glinting through a swollen eyelid, but Castiel simply frowned at her words. "I have to take him back."

"Cas." Sam turned away from his brother, one hand stretching out to the side to keep Dean back. "This won't happen again."

Castiel hesitated, but after a second he gave a small, firm shake of his head. "I gave my word," he explained. "I have fences to mend in Heaven, and as it is, I have a lot to explain."

"Here." Alex drew her grace up into her hands as she pointedly jabbed a finger into Metatron's swollen cheek. The scribe grunted in pain, but Alex ignored it as she let her grace flow inwards to heal the bruises. "No point in bringing him back looking like half-slaughtered meat."

The chains fell away as Castiel unbound the scribe, and the moment he was free, Metatron pushed himself to his feet. "If you ever ask me for help again, I will choose death," he ground out, and his lips pulled up into a vehement snarl as his eyes turned onto Dean, who had slunk off to the corner of the room. "You realize it's going to get worse, Dean," he hissed as Castiel dragged him out of the room. "You're gonna get worse!"

The scribe's voice faded away, and Alex turned back to Dean. "You okay?" She crossed over to him, eyes going up and down his form in search of any wounds. Her fingers found his wrist, and she turned his palm upwards as she examined the Mark on his arm. "You gave me the slip."

"You let me out of your sight." There was no malice in his voice, only empty resignation, and he heaved a sigh as he stared out towards the hall. "Look, Sam," he began, and Sam's lips pursed angrily. "I don't — I didn't ..."

"I know." Sam shook his head in frustration. "I, uh, I should make sure Cas has everything under control," he said after a second. "I'll be right back."

He hurried after the seraph and the scribe, and Alex let Dean's wrist fall from her grasp. "Come on." She waved him forward, and the Winchester followed after only a moment's pause. "You need a drink and a sandwich."

She made her way up the stairs, and, when no response came, she eventually glanced back at the hunter. "Hey, look, I'm sorry—"

"Don't. It's not your fault." Dean pushed past her into the library, and Alex paused in the doorway as he dropped down into one of the tables. "I tricked you."

"Hey. You okay?" Sam's voice came from somewhere out of sight, and the young angel tipped her head as she tried to pinpoint his location.

Dean looked up, eyes flashing in surprise at his brother's presence, but it wasn't long before he dropped his head once again. "He said the river ends at the source," he admitted, and Sam sat down in the chair across from him. "I don't know what it means — maybe it's nothing. It was the last thing he said before you guys busted in."

"Dean. Look, man, we had to ..."

"Hey, no. I get it, alright? I — I was gonna kill him. And I couldn't stop myself."

"We'll figured it out," Sam promised. He hesitated, fingers dancing nervously on the tabletop, and after a moment, he ventured forth, "You know what Cas about needing a powerful force?" Dean voiced his agreement, and Sam cleared his throat. "So, I've been thinking. Look. Cain had Mark, right? And he's lived with it. For years, he's lived with it. So yeah, the Mark is strong, but — Dean, maybe there's a part of you that wants to give into it. And maybe you have to fight that, you now? Maybe ... part of that powerful force has to be you."

He fell silent, and Alex entered the room to slide into the empty chair next to him, patiently waiting Dean's response. The eldest hunter was saved from responding, however, by the ringing of his phone.

Dean jumped to answer, turning slightly so he faced away from Sam and Alex, and the young angel lifted her grace to her ears just enough to recognize Claire's voice coming from the speakers. "I've thought it over," she heard the teen say. "Maybe it's only fair to hear your side of it. I mean, Castiel seemed to trust you, a lot."

"Yeah, okay." Surprise lined Dean's voice, but he nodded nevertheless. "Where do you wanna meet?"

"Crystal Lake. Meet me there tomorrow morning at ten."

"Okay." Dean glanced over at Alex, and the young angel flicked her eyes over to Sam, doing her best to pretend she hadn't overhead. "I'll see you there." He hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he rose to his feet. "That was Claire," he announced. "She wants to meet tomorrow."

"Really?" Sam's head recoiled slightly in surprise, and when Dean nodded, he blinked. "Uh, that's great. Where?"

"Uh, Crystal Lake. North," the Winchester added after a second's thought. "We'll leave at nine," he told Alex, and when the young angel nodded, he tapped the table. "Alright. Food. Drink. Bed." His mouth hung half open, as if he wanted to say more, but, when no words came, the Winchester shook his head and walked away.

Alex twisted in the Impala's seat, reaching back to grab her sweatshirt off of the backseat as she rolled up the window of the sleek black car. The day was surprisingly cool, and she pulled the clothing down over her head before she followed the Winchester out of the car. Crystal Lake glittered up the path, visible through the trees, and Alex cast a quick look over at the occasional trailer homes that stood in the grass off to her left. "Claire said she would be here at ten?"She looked down at her phone as Dean voiced his agreement, and, with a frown, she slid the device back into her pocket. "Well, then she should be here soon. It's five til."

"You talked with Cas?" Dean leaned up against the hood of the Impala, looking out towards the lake, and Alex gave a small shake of her head.

"He texted me last night to say that he brought Metatron back," she relayed, "and that Heaven wasn't particularly pleased, but all's forgiven. As far as I'm aware, he's on his way back." Dean grunted, and the angel slid her hands into her pockets. "You thought about what Sam said?"

"About fighting that part of me?" Dean scoffed, and he pushed himself off of the Impala and started towards the lake. "Sure, it sounds good and all, but realistically?" His voice dropped, and Alex lengthened her step to stay in earshot. "Who says it's even possible, you know?"

He dropped down onto a bench, and Alex sat down beside him, close enough to let their shoulders brush. "Who says indeed," she agreed quietly. "Me, Sam, Cas ... we can't do this for you. Any of that strength comes from your own willpower."

"No!" The sudden, desperate cry from behind them had Alex jumping to her feet in surprise. Dean was at her side in an instant, spinning around towards the sound of Claire's voice, but the swinging of a bat towards his head had him barely ducking out of range. Alex jumped back, her heart skipping a beat, and she stretched her eyes wide as she tried to take in the situation.

There were two people: two attackers. The closest, the woman behind the attack, lunged forward again, but Dean was faster, grabbing the wooden weapon and twisting it around to pull the woman up against his chest. The bat came up, pressing into her neck, and the woman struggled angrily with a snarl.

"Dean!" The second opponent, was wielding an axe, and Alex launched herself forward as Dean spun out of the way, letting the woman go as he twisted to safety. The angel's hands closed around the wooden handle, right below the metal axehead, and she untied her grace so it flowed through her limbs. Her eyes glowed blue as she twisted the weapon, sending the man stumbling back in surprise, and she heaved it aside towards the lake as she squared up against the stranger.

She heard a body hit the ground, one too small to be Dean's, and when the man lunged forward, Alex grabbed the wrist and twisted in a wrist lock — an outstretched leg had the stranger falling to his back next to his companion.

"No!" Claire's scream again had Alex looking wildly around. Her gaze fell onto the axe in Dean's hand, and she took a step back as the Winchester towered over the two strangers.

"Hey," she warned, and she stretched an arm out to try and snap him out of it. "Dean, don't. You don't have to do this."

The axe glinted in the light as Dean heaved it above his head, and Claire screamed again as it swung downwards in a deadly arc.

Wood cracked, sending splinters flying through the air, and Alex flinched as the axehead embedded itself in to the bench beside him. Dean's hands came off the weapons, falling to his side, and the strangers wasted no time in scrambling to their feet as they bolted. Alex clenched her jaw as they disappeared among the trees, and once they were out of sight, she turned her attention back to Claire.

The teen was already halfway to the camper, not even sparing them a second glance, and the young angel ground her teeth. "Son of a ..." Alex bent down, gasping for air as she steadied herself from the sudden and violent attack, and she grunted when Dean patted her on the back. He stalked past her, and Alex followed, surpassing the hunter to stop at the trailer door through which Claire had disappeared. " She fucking ... she tried to kill us." Another curse fell from her lips, and she bit her tongue to keep her grace from boiling up in retaliation.

"Me. Tried to kill me." Dean dug the keys out of his pocket, and Alex frowned at his tone, remarkably casual considering the sudden assult . "She didn't know you were coming with."

"Should we talk —"

"She doesn't want to talk!" The Winchester's voice lifted in anger, eyes flashing a violent green, and Alex fell quiet as he stalked away. "Just forget about Claire, okay? She set us up." He paused beside the car, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline and anger, and Alex softened her voice.

"Okay," she agreed. "Just ... you did the right thing back there, not killing them. I'm proud of you." She watched as the hunter's face flashed with anger, and she dropped her gaze, hoping her praise didn't come across as demeaning. No response came, and Alex looked back up when Dean unlocked the car and climbed inside. The engine roared, and, with a sigh, Alex followed.