"Dean, you alright up there?" Sam called, frowning as he leaned forward to see if his brother was still there. It didn't take people that long to grab newspapers—Sam would know, he was the one that usually did it in the mornings.

"Y-Yeah," Dean stuttered as he replied, still trying to will himself not to sob. "Sam, there's something... one you need to see."

Sam shot Charlie a questioning look, getting a similar one in return. Slowly, he rose from where he was sitting and began to walk towards the staircase. Sam knew his brother's about to cry voice, and that was it. Weary as he walked up the stairs, Sam couldn't seem to shake the frown from his face—whatever Dean had opened to the door to had nearly made him cry. The younger Winchester prayed it wasn't that a missing seventeen-year-old's body had washed up on a shore somewhere.

Sam froze when he saw her. No, it wasn't that a missing seventeen-year-old's body had washed up on a shore somewhere. It was that the missing seventeen-year-old's body was standing right in front of him. Charlie jogged up the steps, coming out from behind Sam. Frowning for only the slightest second, Charlie threw a smile on her face and extended her hand.

"You must be Leila," Charlie said, "I'm Charlie, I've heard a lot about you."

"Uh, hi," Leila replied quietly, shaking Charlie's hand while looking between the Winchesters. "Talk of the town around here, am I?"

"It's not that—" Sam paused, "How are you even here? We watched you die, we couldn't find your body."

"She said it was a long story," Dean looked at his feet, the coffee staining the boots he was wearing. "And I have the feeling I'm gonna need something stronger to listen to it. 'Scuse me."

Dean pushed past Sam as Leila hugged him tightly. Wrapping his arms around Leila, Sam watched as his brother damn near ran down the stairs and into the hallway. Forehead creased, Sam didn't dare let Leila go for fear of letting her see the worry on his face.

Not having to focus on walking, because his feet moved like they had a mind of their own, Dean could let his mind move as frantically as his feet took him to where he needed to go. The older Winchester wanted to wake up—he needed to wake up. Leila couldn't be there, she was dead. Castiel had told them that she was dead, whatever Connie Fairborough said had been a lie, because Castiel wouldn't lie to Dean... would he?

Dean's breaths as he entered the kitchen were short and panicked, the air sucked from his lungs like a balloon left to fly freely around the room. Fists slammed into the small table, because his knees were buckling, and he the ground was fated to be his final destination. Sobs built up in his chest, coming out as heaved breaths that didn't dare turn to tears. Attempting to steady himself, physically and breathing-wise, Dean counted slowly—in his head, because if he managed another word, he would break. Head leaned on the edge of the table, the elder Winchester tried to get himself back. To make his breathing normal, get his mind to stop racing. But he couldn't.

"Dean?" a soft voice asked from behind him.

Dean sniffed, trying to find his way to his feet. Disoriented only began to describe the way he felt. She couldn't be back. It wasn't possible. But she'd stood right in front of him, he felt her arms around him. Sobs built up in his chest as he tried to choke them down.

"Dean?" the voice asked again, equally as soft footsteps moving closer to him.

"I—I'm fine," Dean managed, finally pulling himself up to his feet and leaning against the table—he knew it was the only way to keep his knees from buckling once again.

"Dean," Charlie said a third time, a concerned look dressing her face. "What can I do?"

"Nothing, nothing," Dean swatted his hand towards Charlie, "I mean..." he tried to find his words as he still internally begged for his tears not to spill. "She's back and I should be thankful, right? Connie... Connie was right, and now the kid is here. She found us, even though we could find her... And—and that's great."

Charlie nodded, "It is. It's fantastic. I know she means a lot to you and Sam."

Dean hit his fist on the table he leaned on, staring at the floor, "Charlie?"

"Yes?"

The first tear fell. "Why does this feel wrong?"

"Why does what feel wrong?"

"I mean..." Dean tried to find his words. "We're supposed to save people. Keep them away from the things that go bump in the night. And—and when we don't, things like what happened to Leila happen. And it sucks—and I mean, it really sucks—but why the hell does her standing at our doorstep feel so... unnatural? She drowns in a river, and she's at our doorstep looking better than she did when we met her? That doesn't make any sense."

"You should be used to the dead walking by now, Dean," Charlie replied. "I mean, hell, God knows how many times you and Sam have died. But here you both are..."

"It feels less natural, Charlie," Dean said. "I mean, an apocalyptic earth is one thing, that's fine. It's parallel universes and third dimensions and whatever. But that's Leila standing there. I know that's her."

"It's a good thing that she's back. You didn't have hope for nothing," Charlie said, her voice quiet.

Dean's lip quivered, "How... I can't think of anything to say to her that says how sorry I am for failing her. For not being able to save her like I promised I would. And she's standing there—" he couldn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks, his voice trembling, "Like nothing even happened. Like... Like I'm some sort of hero."

"You are a hero. You took her in when she needed you," Charlie replied.

"I don't deserve that. I couldn't save her. The one thing I said I'd do, I failed at. That's on me. I wanted to go into that river, swim until my bones ached and until the water took me too. Because at least I'd die trying to do what I'd promised. I went to the riverbank that night instead, didn't even try going in, because I had Sammy watching me like I was some stupid kid chasing dreams—" Dean drew in a shaking breath, the tears running down his cheeks. "—And all I could manage to say was I'm sorry. Not that that's worth a damn thing when you're drowning at the bottom of a river." Practically slapping himself to clear his tears off his cheeks, they were only replaced with new ones. Despite every prayer that he wouldn't, despite him begging they wouldn't come, there they were. He'd spent so much time crying already, yet he never seemed drained.

"Dean—"

Charlie tried to speak when Dean lunged towards her, burying her in a hug as his shoulders shook. A noise of surprise escaped Charlie's lips, but the woman hugged him back tightly. Dean's head rested in the crook of her neck, tears spilling down and soaking into the back of her pink flannel shirt. Palms rubbed his back as he sobbed into her shoulder, unable to stop himself.

"It's okay," Charlie spoke, voice muffled by Dean's broad shoulder. "It's okay."

*****

"So..." Sam spoke slowly, swallowing hard. He tapped his fingers lightly on the wooden table. Paws walked across the floors, McFly finding her bearings in the new area. "You lost track of Saint Dymphna when this person you were with...?"

"Mazel tovved her into the next decade," Leila answered, looking at Sam. "Look, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you guys, but—"

Dean held his hand up, "It's not your fault, kid."

Leila looked at her lap, taking a small sip of the cup of water Charlie had got her before her explanation. She swallowed hard, "I just... I wanted to come back and... and she didn't let me."

"We all make mistakes when someone else takes the reins," Sam said. The younger Winchester wouldn't meet Leila's eyes—he would never see how wide they were. Filled with curiosity, near rage at wondering who the hell had hurt Sam so bad.

"If it makes you feel any better," Leila said, "I met these two absolute dumbasses along the way that I think you should meet someday. Claimed they hunted ghosts but the only thing they were good at was screaming like four year old girls and making Harry Potter references."

Dean's jaw nearly dropped, "I'm gonna yippee-ki-yay those motherf—"

"Dean," Sam said, wincing slightly. He looked back to Leila, "We know them."

"Clearly," Leila replied, eyes wide. "I'm not even going to ask."

"So—" Charlie raised her index finger as if she were in a lecture and needed to ask a question, "There's no way to track Saint Dymphna?"

Leila shook her head. "We couldn't find a way."

"You keep saying we," Dean said. "Who the hell is we?"

"Dean, take it easy," Sam said.

"Um." Leila pursed her lips, swallowing hard. "Didn't catch their names."

"You roll up here with a dog, some piece of shit car you claim you hotwired, and somehow you knew we'd be here. I accepted that, figured it was some of Saint Douchebag still inside you." Dean's voice was raising and he didn't know why. After all he'd waited for—prayed for. She was here, and all he could find himself doing was wanting to yell. "But now you said 'we,' and suddenly you don't have any information?"

"Dean," Charlie spoke this time. Her voice was harsh, her eyes glaring at him. "Do you need to take a walk while we talk to Leila?"

Dean's jaw tightened. "Neither of you find this suspicious?"

"Come on, man," Leila said, her voice so low it was fighting to be heard. She opened her mouth to say something else but closed it almost as quickly. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Who's we, Leila?" Dean asked, looking at the teenager. "It sure as hell wasn't the Ghostfacers that helped you."

Leila looked to her hands again. A wince formed on her face when Dean said her name; he only ever said it when he was angry or upset. Frankly, Leila didn't want him to be either. "I said that I wouldn't tell you. I had to promise."

"Leila," Sam said. "We're only trying to help. If Saint Dymphna finds another living person—"

"I know, she'll turn the world upside down. I get it," Leila said. "It was my head she was in. I know. You don't have to talk to me like I don't understand. I came to you with the problem, remember?"

"Listen up, kid—" Dean started, the rage in his voice evident.

"No. You listen to me, Dean Winchester," Leila interrupted, she rose from her seat and pointed a finger at him. "I spent the last months in a hell that I don't even want to think about enough to describe in detail to you. I watched that bitch kill innocent, helpless people." Tears were forming in Leila's eyes, only this time it wasn't the relief of seeing the two men she'd promised she'd visit again, it was anger. It was rage. It was months of emotional turmoil that had just kept building. "Don't tell me to listen up like I'm some stupid kid who doesn't know what's going on in the world around her. Don't you dare. Just because I won't tell you who decided to help me when I needed them doesn't mean you get to treat me like I—" Leila caught herself, swallowing hard. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her lip trembling. "Like the problem at hand doesn't matter."

"We're not saying that," Sam paused, choosing his words carefully, "the problem doesn't matter. We know it does. It's not the first time we've been up against the... oncoming apocalypse. We just need to know what we're up against. If the people who were helping you were the same level of expertise as the Ghostfacers; we may need to do more research. But if they were—"

"Angels," a voice from behind Leila spoke, causing the young girl to jump. All four recognized the voice immediately, seeing the man in the dirty trench coat calmly standing in front of one of the bunker's many bookshelves.

"Cas? You were helping Leila?" Sam asked, looking from the angel to Leila, who was looking at the ground. She gulped, like she was about to get into trouble from any one of them.

Dean's voice was low, eyes wide as he stared at the angel. "You didn't tell us you knew she was alive? Cas, I prayed—"

"We thought we could get through to Leila," Castiel replied. "We wanted to give her back to you as herself, not as the shell we found her as."

"Don't say bullshit like that with her standing right there, man." Dean looked at Leila, who refused to meet anyone's eyes. When Castiel arrived, it was like his rage had been taken from him. He was far from calm, but the anger that had built up had washed away. "Come on."

"I don't..." Castiel frowned, "She is aware of the events that took place."

"You said angels," Charlie said. Looking between the three men made her nervous. They all looked on the edge of a fight; one that would likely end in bloodshed if not prevented. "Who was with you?"

"Elijah," Castiel answered. "And Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sam asked. "Like, the Gabriel? Archangel Gabriel?"

"Who else?" Castiel asked, holding his eye roll back. "We need your help, he's losing his grace."

"Again?" Sam asked. "How did it happen this time?"

"I'm gonna guess good ol' Gabriel was our mazel tov king. Sound about right, kid?" Dean asked. He looked at Leila, who nodded slowly.

"How did you—?" Castiel began.

"Read in a book once that archangels could do things that regular angels can't," Dean said, shrugging. "Figured there had to be something that could brew a spell faster. Call it a lucky guess."

"We're running out of time for Gabriel." Worry dressed Castiel's face. "I'm not sure how much longer he can hold on without a seal. And in order for that to happen—"

"We need to get rid of Saint Dymphna," Sam finished. "Right."

"That's not all," Castiel said.

"What else could possibly be going wrong?" Charlie asked.

Castiel swallowed hard, "Saint Dymphna has a new vessel. We have days until she regains the strength she formed inside Leila."

*****

[ A.N. ] Chapter one is here! I'm so excited for this journey, please let me know what you thought. :)

The Winchesters know the full story now; will the blame game be played or will they realize it was for their own sanity? With Saint Dymphna finding her power again, how will Leila, Charlie, and the boys stop her? And will we meet some friendly faces along the way? Only time will tell.

Vote & fan if you enjoyed. Let me know what you thought in the comments below! Also, be sure to take a moment to appreciate the PHENOMENAL covers CarKann created for this and The Runaway. I'm so in love with them, what do you think?

Until next time,
Thalia