~*****~

"Dude, this place charges by the hour." Sam complained as we pulled into a hooker motel.

I swat Sam with the manuscript. "Well, the book says Lilith finds you at the red motel. Hence the, uh, Hooker Inn. It's opposite day, remember?" We get our keys and I set to setting out hex bags.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Hooker proofing the room," I mention. "Couple of hex bags'll keep that sulfuric bitch without your location."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?" Sam complained.

"That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay?" Dean says. "And no research. I don't care what you do-- use the magic fingers or watch Casa Erotica on pay-per-view."

I slip my hands into Sam's bag. "Oh, dude, come on..." Sam whined as I pulled out his laptop.

"It's just a little insurance, Sammy," I say impishly.

"What are you two gonna do?" Sam asked.

"Well, the pages say that we spend all day riding around in the Impala, so I'm gonna go park her." Dean says. "Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn."

"This is the strangest day. And I'm not including those damn Tuesdays, either." I mention as I follow Dean out.

As luck would have it, as soon as we park the Impala, I turn to glance back at it, and two punks are trying to break into it. "Hey!" Dean shouts as we backtrack.

"Oh my god--" I shriek as Dean is hit by a minivan. Dean's eyes cross for a minute or so before he passes out. "Get away from that damn car!" I shout at the others that have popped open the door. There's a panic between the two, and as I cross the road to beat their asses, they break the rear window. "Son of a bitch--" I tug off my boot and launch it at one of them, and successfully peg him on the back of the head.

~*****~

Dean woke up not even a few minutes later, plastered with pink flower band-aids from the little girl. And boy was he pissed when I'd told him the damage that had been done to the Impala. We headed to Chuck's house.

I lounged on Chuck's couch, propping my feet on the coffee table with my head hung behind me. I lift my head to the sound of the door opening and closing. "Dean, Carlotta." Chuck says as he steps into the living room, arms full of beer and liquor.

"I take it you knew we'd be here." Dean comments.

"You look terrible," Chuck says.

"That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck," Dean says irritably.

"Oh," Chuck stammers.

"That it? Every damn thing you write about us comes true." Dean snaps. "And all you have to say is Oh?"

"Please don't yell at me." Chuck pleaded softly.

"Why do I get the feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" Dean asks.

"What wouldn't I be telling you?" Chuck asks.

"How you know what you know, for starters!" Dean shouted.

"I don't know how I know. I just do!" Chuck explained.

"That's not good enough," Dean growled. He grabs at Chuck's shirt and shoves him up against the wall. "How the hell do you know?!"

"Dean, let him go!" I stand up quickly, my gaze snapping to Castiel.

"This man is to be protected." Castiel says.

"Why, Castiel?" I ask.

"He's a prophet of the lord." Castiel explains.

I cross the room and take one of the beers Chuck had brought and cracked it open. "You're Castiel..." Chuck murmurs as he gazes at him. "Aren't you?"

"It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work." Castiel says as he picks up one of the novels.

"Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet?" Dean asks. Chuck grasps the bottle of hooch and cracks it open. "Come on, he's-- he's... He's practically a penthouse forum writer! Did you know about this?!"

"I, uh, I might have dreamt about it." Chuck mentions nervously.

"And you didn't tell us?!" Dean snaps.

"I already wrote the second coming of Jesus, writing myself as a prophet was preposterous!" Chuck retorted. "Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-Level Douchiness."

"This is the guy who decides our fate?" Dean asked Castiel.

"He isn't deciding anything," Castiel simply says. "He's a mouthpiece-- a conduit for the inspired word."

"The word? The word of God?" Dean asks.

I give a laugh. "Word of God, lot of good that's gonna do." I toss the half full can across the room, wincing at how harsh it sounded clashing against the wall. "What is this shit, the New, New Testament?"

"One day, these books--" Castiel says. "They'll be known as the Winchester Gospel."

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean and Chuck say.

"I am not... kidding you." Castiel sets the book down, confusion on his face.

Chuck grunted and got up. "If you'll three excuse me for one minute." He runs upstairs.

"Him? Really?" Dean asks again.

"You should've seen Luke." Castiel comments.

"Why'd he get tapped?" I ask.

"I don't know how Prophets are chosen..." Castiel responds. "The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command."

"How high?" Dean asks.

"Very." Castiel says.

"Shouldn't I have gotten a say in it, then? Since I'm the bastard kid of God?" I ask irritably. "Whatever, how do we get around this?"

"Around what?" Castiel asks.

"The Sam-Lilith love connection! How do we stop it from happening?" Dean expresses.

Castiel sucks in a breath and sighs. "What the prophet as written, cannot be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."

I palm at my face and sit on the coffee table. "This is just, a whole ass mess..." I whine.

~*****~

As fate would have it, the neon sign to our motel was actually out, and it left only the letters R-E-D lit up. "The red motel-- god, can't we ever catch a break?" I whine as Dean pulls into the parking lot.

Dean just slapped his hand on the steering wheel before bounding out of the car. "Come on, we're getting out of here." Dean orders as he bursts into the hotel room.

"What? Where?" Sam asked, glancing between the two of us.

"Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we are getting out." Dean snapped as I gazed around the room.

"Sam, where are the hex bags?" I ask. Sam hesitated for a moment. "Don't fucking pull that shit on me, Sam, I swear to God."

"I burned them, okay?" Sam snapped.

"You what?!" Dean and I retorted.

"Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big 'If'," Sam trailed off.

"No, no, no. It's more than an If," Dean started. "Chuck is not a psychic. He's a prophet."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Castiel showed up," I mention. "Apparently, Chuck is writing the gospel of us."

Sam hesitated again. "Okay."

"Okay, so let's get the hell out of here." Dean urges.

Sam sighed slightly. "No."

"Lilith is gonna slaughter you, Sam," I snap.

"Maybe she will, maybe she won't," Sam shrugged.

"So, what? You think you can take her?" Dean asks.

"Only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on." Sam hummed.

"Sam--" Dean tried warning him.

"You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side," Sam stated as he glanced between the two of us.

"Yes!" Dean snapped. "Okay, yes! The way you've been acting lately. The things you've been doing. Oh, we know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Castiel told me, and I told her, okay?"

"What else did he tell you?" Sam asked him.

"Nothing I don't already know." Dean retorted. "That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger, we just don't know why, and we don't know how."

"It's not what you think." Sam says softly.

"Then what is it, Sam?" I ask urgently. "'Cause we're at a loss, okay?" Sam doesn't say anything, giving us our answer. Dean grabbed our duffle angrily and stormed past his brother, grasping my arm and urging me forward. I get to the door and turn back at Sam hesitantly. "You coming or not?" I ask.

Sam turns to us, face set. "No."

Dean grips the bag tighter, tosses it in the chair, and ushers me outside. It's a little chilly outside, and I remain silent as Dean beelines for the vending machine, posture stiff and his face set in confliction. "I feel stupid doing this..." Dean trails off after handing me a soda. "But I am fresh out of options. So please... I need some help." Dean says to no one in particular. I cock my head as I stare at him, until it hits me. He's praying to one of the angels. "I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please."

"Prayer is a sign of faith--" Castiel's voice rings out, causing me to flinch upwards and nearly drop my drink.

"You need a bell, Castiel, a bell!" I snap breathlessly.

"This is a good thing, Dean." Castiel says, disregarding my comment.

"So does that mean you'll help us?" Dean asks.

"I'm not sure what I can do," Castiel admits.

"Drag Sam out of here-- now. Before Lilith shows up." Dean urges.

"It's a prophecy," Castiel says. "I can't interfere."

"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything." Dean says lowly as he approaches Castiel. "Not a damn thing. But now I am asking. I need your help. Please."

"What you're asking, it's...." Castiel trails off. "Not within in my power to do. Not even Carlotta can stop something like prophecy."

"Why? Cause it's a divine prophecy?" Dean asks.

"Yes!"

"So, what-- we're just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?" Dean asks angrily.

Castiel remains silent for a moment, his face contorted in regret. "I'm sorry."

"Screw you. You and your mission." Dean snaps. "Your God. If you don't help me now. Then when the time comes, and you need me.... Don't bother knocking."

"Dean, wait--" I say helplessly as he storms off. I sigh irritably before the thought hits me. "Castiel, you said Chuck was under the protection of the angels, right?"

"Where's this going, Lottie?" Dean snapped.

"We can't intercede, I get that, Castiel, but you said Prophets are protected, they're valuable, correct?" I ask Castiel. He nods.

"Yes. If anything threatens a Prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear and destroy that threat." Castiel states, his face relieving its tension. "Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon."

"And these Archangels, they're tied to prophets?" I continue.

"Yes." Castiel nods.

"So, if a prophet was in the same room as a demon--" Dean starts.

"Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon." Castiel confirms. "Just so you understand... why we cannot intercede."

I kiss Castiel's cheek and pat at Dean's shoulder. "Let's go!"

"Thanks Cass," Dean hums softly before following after me.

"Good luck." I hear Castiel say.

~*****~

Chuck is surprised to see us storm into his house. "What are you doing here? I didn't write this." Chuck says helplessly as Dean hauls him upwards.

"Come on. I need you to come with me." Dean urges.

"What? Where?" Chuck asks.

"To the motel where Sam is." Dean says.

"That's where Lilith is." Chuck mentions.

"Yeah, exactly, I need you to stop her." Dean snaps.

"Are you insane?! Lilith?!" Chuck exclaims. "I know what she's capable of, Dean-- I wrote her!"

"Chuck, shut up for a second, okay?" I snap as I grasp his shoulders tightly. "You've got an archangel tethered to your ass. All you have to do, is show up and Boom! Lilith gets smoked just for looking at you!"

"But I-I-I-I haven't seen that yet," Chuck stammers. "T-The story--"

"Chuck, you're the only shot that we've got left," Dean says urgently.

"But..." Chuck trails off. "I'm just a writer..."

"This isn't a story anymore, man," Dean snaps. "This is real! And you're in it! Now, I need you to get off your ass and fight!" Chuck steps around us. "Come on, Chuck."

He's silent for a moment before turning back to us. "No friggin' way." Chuck says quickly.

I prod at my cheek with my tongue, my breath escaping in irritation. "Okay, then how about this? I've got a gun in my pocket, and if you don't come with us, I'll blow your brains out."

"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel." Chuck said lightly.

I let my lips curl into a grin. "Who's more important? A prophet that could be replaced? Or something God made with his, uh, swimmers?"

"Right." Chuck said pathetically and nodded.

Thankfully, we get to the motel just in time. Lilith is perched over Sam with Ruby's knife tight in her grip, ready to kill him. I shove Chuck inwards with a harsh grunt.

"I am the Prophet, Chuck!" Chuck proclaims.

"You've got to be joking." Lilith growls.

The entire room begins to rattle, and I hear a distinct voice shouting. "Oh, shit-- he's actually coming," I mention with a laugh. "This is no joke! Chuck's got an archangel on his shoulder!"

Light begins flooding in from outside. "You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal! You sure you want to tangle with that?" Dean asks over the rattling.

Lilith gazes around, brow set in hesitation before she expels from her body with a scream. The girl falls to the ground, and the rattling in the room stops. The shouting dies down to a dull ringing in my ears.

~*****~

"So, a deal, huh?" Dean asks tiredly.

"That's what she said," Sam sighs.

"To call the whole thing off-- angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?" I ask.

"That was the gist of it." Sam says. Dean huffs lightly. "What?"

"You didn't think once about taking it?" Dean asks.

"You kidding me?" Sam scoffed. "You spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track."

"I'm just saying."

"She would've found some way to weasel out of it." Sam said. "And all it would have cost us was our lives."

Dean sighs. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Anyway, that's not the point." Sam hums.

"What's the point?"

"Point is she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running." Sam explains.

I furrow my brows at him. "Running from what?"

"Don't know." Sam shrugged. "But she was telling the truth about one thing."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"She's not gonna survive the apocalypse." Sam says. "I'll make sure of that."

I grasp at Dean's arm lightly, sharing a concerned glance with him.