Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I sat on the hood of the Impala, savoring an ice cold beer and watching the sun shine over Bobby's house. I hadn't had a drink in months, and this bottle of brew tasted particularly yummy. I stretched out, crossing my legs at the ankles, marveling at how nice it was not to feel like complete and utter shit. It'd been so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to think clearly, move freely, and consume booze at will.

Maybe someone slipped me a roofie to make me feel so relaxed and peaceful, because I didn't even flinch when a young man appeared out of nowhere, hopping up next to me on the trunk and helping himself to a beer.

The atmosphere was cordial, so I didn't think anything of it. We just sat there, drinking, watching the world wake up.

When we'd both drained our bottles, I figured it was time to quit lollygagging and get my shit together.

This was pleasant, but it wasn't right.

"So," I said, popping the cap off a second bottle and handing it over. "Let's start with the basics, shall we?" I got my second bottle ready and leaned back, waiting.

After a particularly long pull, he brought a fist to his mouth, belched, then sighed. "Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head, bottle in mouth. If I knew...

"Then let's start there. I'm an angel. My name is Michael. Does that help?"

I blinked. Huh. Nothing surprised me anymore. "Yeah, yeah it does. We've...met."

He huffed. "Well, you may have met me, but I've never met you."

"We only met twice...different realities. But the second one...it packed a punch." I lightly grazed my cheek with my finger, tracing the scars left by Lucifer. "Where am I?"

Michael gestured towards Bobby's house with his bottle. "You're home, back in your own reality."

"Really? So...what...I died?"

He nodded. "Yup, you sure did. Your death was the only way the spell could've been broken. Without a life force to draw from, the curse ended and voila - you came back."

I tried to process all this. "Okay, so...okay. I'm dead, and back home. That's...okay. And if I'm talking to you, that must mean - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there. Hold on. You're not dead."

"What do you mean I'm not dead? You just said - "

"I said you died. As in, past tense. I never said you were dead, present tense."

Fucking angels.

"Michael…" I began, in a low, warning tone.

"Alright, listen. You died in that last reality. Your death ended the curse, kicked you back here, alive, as if it were just another phase in the spell. Now…" He paused for a drink, eyeing me over the neck of the bottle. "I don't know what the hell happened to you over there, but your body is a wreck. And that kind of damage…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged, turning away to watch the trees sway in the breeze. "Let's just say it screams Biblical."

I kept my voice neutral. "Meaning, what?"

Michael shrugged again. "Meaning my Father had a hand in whatever happened to you. Maybe not directly, but somehow. That sort of shit crosses dimensions, since He crosses dimensions. I can't even fully heal you. You'll heal, but it'll be a while before you're back to normal." He took another drink. "But hey, you aren't dying, so...you know. Huzzah." He mock-cheered in this falsetto voice, waving his fingers in the air like it was something to celebrate.

We sat in silence as I digested the news. Died, not dead, hurt, but getting better.

Home.

...Not there. With them.

I started peeling the label off my bottle when I super casually asked, "So...what happened in that reality after I left?"

Michael's mouth made a loud sucking-popping noise as he pulled it off the bottle. "Dunno. I never went there, never saw, never knew. Even Castiel couldn't figure out what you were up to when he rescued you in Hell."

"He's alive?"

"Oh, yeah. A little singed, a little weak, but alive. Trips into perdition don't make for an easy recovery."

That was an opening. I knew he was waiting for an explanation, but I wasn't sure I wanted him to know. What if we could complete the trials here, and close the gates? Would he try and stop us? Then again, angels could lurk and spy any time they wanted to, and we'd never know. So he'd find out eventually.

Screwed no matter which way I went.

Like I wasn't used to that.

So...I explained everything - the tablets, the trials, the Scribe, the whole enchilada. We moved onto our third beer while I talked.

When I finished, he nodded thoughtfully, scratching his head, face all wrinkled up in thought. "Well...wow. That's...wow. Okay, so let me say this. There are tablets here, but they aren't the same tablets as in that other reality. I almost wish they were, but they aren't. Why tell you this? Because I don't want you spending the rest of your life hunting them down. As for Metatron, he was the Scribe, but he died eons ago, shortly after creating the tablets. Dumb bastard got a little cocky with Lucifer one day and...yeah. No more Metatron. Dad was so pissed. Anyway, the only Naomi in Heaven is this mousy little brunette in receiving. She isn't a high ranking angel by any means."

Huh.

He nudged me with his shoulder. "Is this weird for you?"

I snorted. "No weirder than, I dunno, being pregnant with my dad's child, or living in a reality where I never existed for about two years."

He had the decency to wince. We clanked bottles. "Point taken."

We drank for a bit, until I had to ask. "Seriously, though, what is Uriel's problem with me? Did I screw up Heaven's plans that badly? Am I that awful an existence? I know I wasn't supposed to be here, but…"

Michael sighed deeply. "Angels are supposed to watch over humans. Protect and care for them. Lucifer couldn't accept that, and apparently, Uriel can't either. Originally, you know, we weren't supposed to interfere with your lives. We just watched. Once my brother picked the apple...well. Some angels got tangled up in the lives of humans, for good and bad reasons, with good and bad results. We couldn't help it - you're so interesting. Where demons have a purpose to inflict suffering, angels want life and prosperity. We want Father's will. It's just that sometimes...we forget that there is a limit to what you can do." He smiled sheepishly before taking another drink.

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"Yeah, I know. Look, what can I tell you? Uriel is kind of an asshole. I mean, don't get me wrong - he's the best soldier in the garrison. He really is. He's powerful, strong, smart. But in this...he went too far. The desire for Heaven on earth got a little too much. You disrupted the Apocalypse path, and it pissed him off to no end. Regardless of that, he shouldn't have interfered to the point of hurting you, or your family, even though your bloodline is important. It's not supposed to be who we are, or what we do."

More huh.

"He also subscribes to the philosophy of leaving you all alone. Castiel was destined to intertwine with your family. Your arrival into the mix altered that a little, because - "

"Because what he was destined to do, may or may not unfold." I thought of Cas saving Dean from Hell, which was always his purpose, connecting him to my brother for eternity. I really really didn't want that to occur here, and by that, I meant that Dean should never face Hell. Ever.

"Exactly. He's still assigned to your bloodline, and that won't change. But…it's kinda...messy now." Here, his voice faded into another shrug...this one uncomfortable.

It took me a second to figure out where he was going. I sat up, feeling my cheeks darken.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Hold on. You think you're the first angel-human combo to walk the earth? Because you're not. You're just the first high-profile couple."

"That doesn't help, and we're not exactly a couple," I growled, drawing my knees to my chest and sinking my chin on top.

Michael sighed. "It's caused a bit of a tizzy upstairs. Not that Castiel is running around talking about it, but some angels know. They've seen him with you. Using a human is one thing. Being involved with one is something else entirely."

I faced him. "I thought you were all about glitter and happiness. Why is using us acceptable?"

Now his cheeks turned red. "We're celestial beings, but we still have needs sometimes. At least...some of us do. Look, that's the not the point. The point, is that on top of everything else, Uriel was insulted by Castiel's affection for a human. He also knows some of Castiel's grace lies within you from the incident with the warlock."

Oooh...so the grace sharing stint in Hell...ooo-kay, mouth shut on that one.

"What are you saying? I get the feeling there's more here than you just explaining Uriel's dickishness."

Michael started peeling the label off his bottle. "You two need to back off for a while until things cool down in Heaven." He mumbled so fast, I almost missed what he said.

Almost.

I guessed he felt bad, because he kept going. "He pulled a lot of strings to get to you in Hell, almost killing himself and weakening several others. Balthazar is still sleeping it off. That kind of attachment can be dangerous, especially now, and with your bloodline."

I chugged the rest of my beer, thinking that this was the topper of my day. I died and got dumped all within minutes, and because it's me, in that order.

But what was I gonna do? Argue with the most powerful archangel in Heaven because I had a crush?

Still, a small part of me whined, I just got back...I was just getting a sense of who I was as an individual...I was just ready to see where this could go…

But apparently, all my relationships were doomed to be inappropriate or horrifying. Or a combination of the two.

Hooray…

How awesome that this could dampen being home.

"Does he know?" I asked softly, turning my head away from him.

"Yes."

I blinked back some tears. "So...I'll never see him?"

"You'll still see him. Like I said, he's tied to you, and your family. But the extra stuff has to just…"

"Yeah, I get it. Where is he now?"

Michael nodded at the house. "In there. Explaining to your family what happened to you and where you've been." He tilted his head, as if listening to something. "He's about done. They know you're hurt, and they're a bit...uh...anxious." He turned to look at me. "Your father has quite the vocabulary."

I softly laughed. "Yeah...yeah he does."

"Mine does, too. I miss hearing Him speak, and I know you miss your father. So...here's the deal. Don't worry about Uriel. I'll handle him. He won't bother or interfere with you guys. I promise."

I nodded, remembering Dean's warnings about trusting douchebag angels, but not really having a choice in this situation.

"So. Ready to go back?"

I nodded again, resting my palm against the Impala's warm metal, building strength, building resolve, building walls.

"Okee dokee, then."

xxxxx

Day 1…

My room felt weird. How can your room feel weird? I grew up in this room. But it'd been two years since I slept in this bed, looked at these walls, hugged Bear.

My room didn't have windows.

Or...wait...

Crap.

xxxxx

Day 2…

Despite the weirdness of my room, I stayed in it, buried under blankets (good Lord, I was actually starting to feel warm again), and sleeping for the most part. If I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking and staring at everything and nothing, trying not to worry about my brothers.

My other brothers.

And these brothers.

People popped in and out, keeping watch over me, making sure I stayed put. I didn't have the heart to explain that if I "left", they wouldn't necessarily know. It seemed like a low blow, so I kept that information to myself.

I especially didn't have the strength to look at them. I just couldn't. Not yet. My turtle routine was upsetting to them, and I got that. But it didn't change what I needed to do, which was hide. Maybe wallow a bit.

Maybe wallow a lot.

Crap.

xxxxx

Day 3…

Today was a bad day. I woke up not sure where I was - not trusting what appeared to be true. Jesus, this was fucking with my head. Physically, I was starting to feel better. The draining fatigue was becoming more manageable, and the all-encompassing aches and pains were slowly lessening.

I think.

It'd only been three days.

But it was a bad day, and I kept waiting for Dean to come in my room and work his magic. But he never came. The other Dean showed up, and my initial (and thankfully, internal) reaction, was Not You, and then I felt shitty and guilty and just cried for probably an hour. He didn't understand, and I couldn't take the hurt expression on his face, so I rolled away and pulled the blankets over my head.

When did he become the other Dean?

When I resigned to living with that Dean.

They stopped trying to talk to me, because they knew I didn't want to answer.

I should've been elated. I should've been super duper glad to be home.

And I was.

And I also wasn't.

So, yeah. Today was a bad day.

Crap.

xxxxx

Day 4…

The bed dipped, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes, like the asshole I'd been, even though whoever was there couldn't see me. I still wanted to be left alone, but their patience with my mood evidently had its limits.

I couldn't blame them. I was surprised they'd been this patient, quite frankly.

I used to be able to tell who came in my room without looking. I knew Sam's quiet stride, Dean's confident swagger, Adam's hesitant steps.

But it seemed that I forgot.

I was out of practice.

The person just sat there, patiently, keeping their distance.

Okay. Process of elimination. Dean or Sam wouldn't keep their distance. Adam wouldn't come in here without asking. Bobby, too.

That left Dad.

I was pissed that it took me that long to figure it out.

I heard boots being toed off, and the bed shifted again as he laid down next to me, giving me space while still being in my space.

He was right there.

Breathing.

Alive.

There.

Here.

Not wanting to be an asshole, I sighed, pulling the covers off my head and pushing aside the hair that fell in my eyes. I rolled onto my back, mirroring him, feeling a million miles away.

"You know, if you don't eat something soon, Dean may start an IV."

I smiled. "Yeah...surprised he hasn't yet. It's just...food's kinda hard. Haven't really eaten in...a while."

Dad crossed his legs at the ankles, lacing his fingers behind his head. "How long?"

Simple questions, designed to draw conversation, sharing, connection.

Smooth.

"Months. Maybe...seven?"

He drew in a deep breath, mulling that over, because for him, it'd only been a couple nights. He swallowed it down and continued the calm, steady discussion. "You need to rebuild your strength, regain some weight. What can you tolerate?"

Accepting however and whatever I answered, not overreacting, keeping it casual.

Clever.

"Bland stuff, mostly, like grilled cheese, mac-n-cheese, pancakes are even okay. But not a lot at one time." I adjusted my position on the bed. "Dean should know. He's tried everything to - " I stopped abruptly. This Dean shouldn't know.

But Dad...he just nodded, like what I said made total sense. "I'll talk with him. I'm sure he'll figure something out. Meanwhile, we'll start with grilled cheese."

"And cranberry juice," I quickly added, biting my lip after the request hit the air. I'd been hiding like a sulking teenager for days, and now I'm making requests?

"Sure, if that's what you want. It's got a strong taste, though. What's the pull?" He wants to know...he needs to understand...he's not dead.

I rolled onto my side, facing him. "I cough up blood...a lot. The taste is just...disgusting. Cranberry juice covers it. Kevin said he thinks I'm half cranberry juice now."

Oh, hey - I made a funny. A funny that wasn't quite funny, because I caught the flash of pain and worry that skirted across his face, before he masked it over as he regained control. John Winchester was determined to be there, and not be a hysterical dad. A magical combo of a dad, and a hunter who knows he has to gather data, keep moving, push forward.

"Well, let's try to lower that amount, and maybe bring in other fruit." Oh, hey - he made a funny back.

We fell silent, him still staring at the ceiling, and me at him. Finally, I whispered, "I missed you."

He turned toward me, studying me with gentle eyes. A wry smile pulled at his lips. "My gut response is to tell you that I missed you, too. But…"

I smiled back, a little. "Yeah...I know." I drank in the sight of him, his presence, his aura, his whole being. "How much did Cas tell you?"

Dad blew out a breath and pulled down his arms. "Not a whole helluva lot. We know you were cursed, who cursed you, and the nature of it. Something about...consciousness swapping, until you ended up somewhere you didn't exist, and that's when your real body followed you...that sound about right?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

More silence.

Then Dad leaned over, and tentatively planted a kiss on my forehead. "I'll let you be. You know where we are if you need us."

I nodded again.

He sighed, gently caressed my cheek, then got up and left.

Wiping my eyes, I rolled over and pulled the blanket back over my head.

xxxxx

Day 4.5…

I could feel him watching me. He'd been in and out since I got back, never talking, never interfering. I did my best to not think of him while he was there. Remembering that I thought loudly, obsessing about him wasn't what I needed to broadcast.

After several minutes, I threw off the blankets and sat up. He wasn't creeping me out, but I felt weird not speaking to him. "You sit loudly. Did you know that?"

The room held its breath, then blew it out as Castiel materialized on my window seat. His cheeks were red and he looked a little guilty. I eyed him. "Shared grace, remember?"

Cas rolled his eyes, shrugging out of his trench coat and setting it aside. "I did not forget. I...am simply taking my turn."

"Taking your turn at babysitting the crazy bitch who coughs up blood and can't remember where she is?" I calmly smoothed the blankets, keeping one eye on the angel, watching for his reaction to my snark.

As expected, he was quite nonplussed. "You know that's not how they think of you."

I rolled my eyes back at him. "I know, Cas. I was being - "

"Sarcastic. Yes, I am becoming more familiar with the term."

Oh-ho, snark back at me. I tucked my hair behind my ears. "So. Aren't we going to get in trouble with you here? Talking to me?" I raised my voice a little. "Putting Heaven in a tizzy?"

Castiel winced and actually glanced upward. "No, Kate. This isn't - "

"What he meant. I know. I'm becoming more familiar with what angels want out of me."

Ouch.

Backpeddling…"That wasn't directed at you."

He nodded. "While I assumed as much, it's good to know that for sure." He tilted his head. "The other Castiel...he...tricked you into performing those trials?"

Okay, hold on. I never told him that. I didn't even tell Michael that. I stared at him.

Cas shrugged his shoulders. "You dream loudly, too." I narrowed my eyes. "We're connected, Kate. I am sorry, but...your sleep has been quite...distressed. I can't help but…"

Yeah, okay. I get it, but...hold on. "Why're you blushing? Oh, snap. You can help it...can't you?" HA - deep red looks good on him. "You can! You were eavesdropping!"

Defensive Castiel's shoulders slumped. "I apologize. I am...curious as to what happened, since our connection became tenuous for a while." He stared down at his hands. "I was quite...agitated over my inability to help you, and I have been very...worried."

Goddammit. "Hey - I was seconds away from being left in Hell when you swooped in and saved my ass. My ass and Adam's." In a softer tone, I added, "You always save me. I guess that's what got us in trouble, huh?"

He raised his head, deep blue eyes meeting mine. "It was worth it."

Guh. Butterflies in the stomach. Slightly increased heartbeat.

Ugh Ugh Ugh.

"Thanks."

"You don't agree with me?"

"No, I do. I guess. It feels weird telling you that it was worth it, that's all. Besides...towards the end there...I was…" I waved my hands around my head. "...not all there. I convinced myself that I had to die, that being dead was the only good thing that could have come outta my life."

Castiel sighed, his eyes sad. "You know that's not really true, right?"

I shrugged one shoulder, fiddling with the blanket.

"Kate…"

"Yes! I know. I do, okay? That stuff just has to fade, that's all. But when you think about it, it's kinda funny. I mean, Uriel obviously thinks that, right? He wants me out of the picture, which is why he sent me away. I got stuck somewhere I wasn't supposed to be, got involved in a situation that I wasn't supposed to be involved in, and ultimately? I ended up agreeing with the asshole."

Cas was quiet for a moment. Then, "He is such an asshole."

I laughed. "That's what Michael said."

Cas mumbled, "Michael was right." He sighed. "I don't want you hiding in your room forever."

"Cas - it's been four days. Look, I know everyone's used to me just...bouncing back and pushing forward because God forbid I allow someone to worry about me. But you know what? This curse sucked hard. I'm...I'm not back to normal physically or mentally, and I just need some time."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Recognizing yourself as a real person, rather than as the extra Winchester?"

I blinked at him. "Yeah...yeah, I am. They…" My voice caught as I thought of my other brothers. "They taught me that. And it wasn't because they loved me more than these guys, because I know that's not it. But they didn't have the baggage of any history. Kinda...kinda like Adam's take on all of us. He's in the family, and we'd all die for him, but his perspective is just…"

"Clean," Cas supplied.

I smiled. "Yeah…"

Cas fiddled with the hem of his coat.

"What is it?" Something was bugging him.

He shrugged, then asked, "So...what about...the...other Castiel?"

Frowning, I asked, "What about him?"

He shrugged again. "Just...I mean, he tricked you. And...you were still interacting with him...and he...is…"

"Are you jealous?"

His head snapped up, defenses raised. "No! Why would I be jealous? That's...no!"

"Cas?"

He huffed angrily, eyes across the room.

"Cas!"

He huffed again, this time softer, dragging his eyes to meet mine.

In a gentle voice, I asked, "Did you hear what I said after you dropped me in the boat?"

Castiel's whole demeanor softened. His lips parted, and he nodded. "Yes, I was still between worlds when you...called out."

"Then don't be jealous."

He took a deep breath and picked up his coat. "Still. You are...connected to me, but not by choice. Michael's directive leaves you free to - "

"Free to what? Get involved with a normal human? Puh-lease. It'd ruin my reputation."

We both got a chuckle at that.

"Well. I should be going. I can't speed the healing within you, and I believe there are some anxious people downstairs waiting to see you." He looked at me pointedly.

I half-rolled my eyes. It's not that I wanted him to leave. It's that I wanted him to stay.

Closer.

Preferably next to me on the -

"Kate," he whined, shooting me a pained expression, clearly indicating that he wanted the same thing.

But we can't.

"Sorry. Quieter thinking. It's on my To Do list."

He shook his head fondly, then blinked out of sight.

I flopped back onto my pillow and stared at the ceiling. The sudden jostling triggered a mild coughing fit, which I wrapped up with a smear of blood across the back of my wrist.

Sigh.

I'd gotten so used to my mouth tasting foul, that I didn't even flinch at it anymore. Now that I was healing, it was once again, disgusting. I wiped it off, then tossed the tissue into the garbage. Shoving the covers aside, I swung my legs to the floor. I'd been wearing the same clothes for a few days, which, after a quick whiff, proved to be a bad idea.

After grabbing clean clothes, which...great...boy clothes, large and loose fitting...I shuffled to the bathroom and took a much needed shower. I remembered how I promised Sam I'd shower before starting the third trial. But I didn't, because, who needs to be clean if you're just gonna die?

Yuuuuup.

Clean, dry, and freshly garmented, I decided it was time to face them. I tossed my towel on a chair, and zipped up my hoodie. I was admittedly a little dizzy. This was a lot of unassisted activity for me, and it was proving to be a lot.

Showering was a lot of activity. Bleh.

When I came out of my room, Dean was waiting in the hallway, trying like hell to look casual.

"Oh! Hey! I, uh, was just coming up to get...some…thing..."

I blinked at him.

He huffed, busted. "Heard the shower, wanted to make sure you were okay." He thrust a hand in his hair, scrubbing back and forth against his scalp. "So. You okay? Or...you want me to leave? Or…"

In two steps, I had my arms around him, holding on with all I had. Which right then, wasn't much, but it was all his. He clung back, one hand cradling the back of my head. His breaths came in ragged gulps, making me curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt to ensure a stronger grip.

Sam once told me that Dean was his constant - always there, always Dean. Those words rang true for me as well. My Deans were seven years and many hurts apart, but they were both still Dean.

My Dean.

"Missed you…" I murmured into his shirt.

He sighed into my hair. "This is so fucked up...I don't know how to answer that."

I thunked my head against his chest. "I know...it's okay."

Dean snorted. "Katie, in no way is this okay. Not even close to okay. Okay?"

I nodded, drying my eyes on his shirt before pulling back, taking steadying breaths of my own. His brow furrowed as he caught sight of the scars on my cheek. With gentle fingers, he traced them, stopping when I winced at a tender spot.

"Those look kinda fresh...what got you?"

I hugged myself. "They're not fresh, actually. Um...they're about five months old."

His eyebrows rose, at how they could still look fresh and at how they could be five months old when it'd only been five days since the barbeque.

I sighed. "I know. This is gonna take some getting used to."

He critically looked me over, head tilting toward the stairs. "Dad said you needed bland stuff to eat, so I went to the store and got some stuff. You need to get some weight back...get your strength up. You hardly ate since...in the last few days." He swiped a hand across my forehead. "Maybe some Tylenol, too."

Nodding again, I ran my fingers through my damp hair. "My temp goes up and down...meds usually don't work, but maybe they will now? I dunno. You shoved Advil down my throat, I think, unless I spiked over a hundred-five, then it was ice baths."

I stopped there, realizing that it wasn't him that took care of me. "Shit...sorry…"

He shook his head, taking my arm and leading me down the stairs. "No sorries. I just...I mean...so...I was there?"

Was he there. Ha. "Yeah, you and Sam both. Well, I mean, for a while I was jumping all over the place. Sometimes you were there, and sometimes you weren't. It always changed. But the last place I landed…" We reached the bottom, and I took a second to catch my breath. "I was there a while...and I was with you and Sam. That made it a lot...easier."

We rounded the corner into the kitchen, where Adam sat reading a thick book and Bobby was drinking a beer. When he saw us, Adam jumped up, knocking into Bobby and dropping his book onto the floor.

"Shit - sorry, Bobby! I didn't...sorry!" Adam scrambled to hand Bobby a napkin for the beer that dribbled onto his shirt while picking up his book and trying not to look like he was uncomfortable and worried.

I stopped in my tracks and just watched him. He looked so...okay. He wasn't a curled up sobbing mess. Unconsciously, I rubbed my arm where the several inch long scar lie from where I carried his soul. Tears welled in my eyes, and I smiled through them, trying to not look like a crazy person, but knowing I totally did.

I cleared my throat, getting a grip. "You okay?" I asked, needing to make sure.

He looked at me like I was insane for asking. "Yeah...I...yeah." His eyes darted to Bobby, as if to ask What The Fuck Do I Do? Which made me look at Bobby, which made me want to cry again.

"...Missy?"

I walked over, giving him a big hug. "It's good to see you."

He handed off his beer to Adam, hugging me back. "It's...good to see you, too." When we separated, he took my chin in his hand and turned my head a little. "What happened here?"

"I asked the same thing," Dean said, going to the refrigerator.

My eyes flickered to Adam. Before I could answer, he stammered, "Did...did I do that to you?"

Fuck. "What? No! You...no!"

The look of relief was almost comical. He came over to examine my cheek. "I'll get some cream. It looks - "

"Don't bother," I said, stepping back. I could feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered my trip to the Cage. I rotated my shoulder where the second set of scars lie. "It won't help."

"Get the kit anyway," Bobby ordered. "Now that you're up, I wanna look you over."

For a moment, I was irritated. Dean's been taking care of me since these trials started. If there was something helpful to be done, he'd have done it, and that Dean's knowledge far exceeded even this Bobby. I pushed that thought away, though, because it wasn't fair, and I knew it.

Add to that a different set of people hovering over me, and I started feeling really...weird. Kevin was replaced by people who'd been dead for two years. (Kevin - who didn't exist here - I checked.)

"I'm fine, Bobby." I walked to a chair and sat down, drawing my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. It was hard being the center of attention at the Bunker, but thankfully I wasn't really lucid for most of it. Here, I was painfully aware of the attention, and it was uncomfortable.

I felt myself pulling away.

Adam and Bobby snorted in unison as Adam left to grab the kit. "Hardly. I wanna see all those new scars, and - "

"And she's got a fever," Dean chimed in, taking out cheese and bread. and starting to make sandwiches.

I pressed my lips together, breathing through my nose in an effort to calm the frustration blooming within. They didn't understand why I was agitated. Naturally, I should be going through a rough period as I adjusted...they just couldn't grasp that while I was glad to be home, I had a life back there. I made peace with the curse and settled down. I was ready and willing to die.

And now?

Now I was alive, torn between families and feelings of immense guilt, wanting to defend Dean to Dean, and it was all just...too much.

I got bitchy.

"Actually," I said, in a louder voice. "I'm doing a lot better." I could see the question on Bobby's lips, even though he refused to voice it. So I helped. "A lot better means I'm lucid and not choking on my own blood. Not to mention I'm not dead anymore, so trust me, this is fine."

My sass was so uncalled for. But irrationality dug her claws into me, and out came that shitty little speech.

My words hung thick in the air. Adam came back with the kit, immediately sensing that something wasn't quite right. "What happened?" He demanded, setting the kit on the table and undoing the latches.

Let's add more guilt to the party.

"I'm being an asshole," I muttered, rubbing at my eyes. "I'm sorry, Bobby…"

Bobby rubbed his cheek and flapped a hand at me. "It's okay...I'm just worried about you. This is...this is gonna take some time to get used to."

We were saying that a lot.

Adam's eyes bounced between Bobby and me. Dean resolutely kept his back to us, focused on making food. "Okay, then." Adam raised his chin at me. "Show me where you're hurt."

I laughed a little. "You can't fix what's on the inside. Michael said I'm healing, though, so…" I sluggishly took off the hoodie, revealing the scars on my back right shoulder blade and my arm in addition to the ones on my cheek.

Adam paused, one hand in the kit. "What's with your insides?"

Uh…I looked up at him. "Cas didn't explain that?" I'd really hoped he did.

He shook his head, eyes going a little wide. Bobby sat down next to me, and I could sense Dean's attention.

Wetting my lips, I explained the whole burn thing. "But it's getting better. It feels better. So…" I kept leaving my thoughts hanging like that. So...

Adam cinched his mouth to the side, and carefully laid the back of his hand against my shoulder scars, and the ones on my cheek. "Those were from the same monster, right?" You have no idea. I nodded. "They're warm...I'll get some ice for them."

Bobby waved him off. "I'll get it. You keep checking."

I sat still throughout Adam's exam, thinking that they must have done this already...I'd been back over four days. Probably while I was sleeping, come to think of it. But now that I was awake and voluntarily seeking their company, I figured they wanted the stories to go with the scars.

Over his shoulder, Dean called out, "You never answered me upstairs."

"Huh?"

He brought over a simple sandwich, placing it in front of me. I was actually a little hungry, so again, good signs.

Taking Bobby's seat, he pointedly eyed me. "What got you?"

And now I wasn't that hungry.

He saw the shift. "That bad?"

Bobby held a towel-wrapped ice pack against my shoulder which, fuck, did feel good. Adam wrapped it in place with an Ace bandage.

They waited.

Eyes downcast, I answered in a quiet voice. "It wasn't a what...more like a who. Or...two whos. I'm not really sure."

Silence.

"Okay…"

I set my scarred arm on the table, tracing where I'd sliced it open. The cut ran a good six inches. Dean covered my hand with his. I sighed. "It was Lucifer," I answered so softly that Dean leaned closer.

"I'm sorry...uh...what?"

I looked up. "I said it was Lucifer."

That set Bobby back a step. "Lucifer? He's a…"

"He's real. He's real here, too. I'd met him before, in one of my jumps. He's an angel. If we believe in angels, we need to believe in all of them."

At this point, Bobby sat down. Adam re-felt my forehead, and Dean patted my arm.

Oh, hell no. They think I'm delusional. That whole stint in Hell was anything but delusional. "You think I'm making this up?"

Bobby sputtered. "No! No, 'course not. It's just...I mean...Lucifer? Really?"

Shit...just wait until they find out Sam's his true vessel. Or…was he? Maybe...maybe in those other places? Fuck...I should've asked Michael.

"Kate? You okay?"

That's when the back door opened, and in walked Dad and Sam. Sam who...who looked so fucking young. Sure, this Sam's had his share of shit thrown his way, but it was nothing compared to the older Sam I'd been living with. Dean was a constant, older or younger looking. Our relationship didn't change. But Sam...

My relationship with Sam, no matter what reality, was always different. Special.

He sensed something was up, and flashed me a brief smile, before turning and placing a plastic bag on the counter.

"What's up?" Dad asked, nodding at the ice packs and med kit.

Bobby leaned back in his chair, while Adam pressed an ice pack against my cheek. "Hold it there, okay?"

I nodded, doing as I was told.

Bobby grunted. "Kate was tellin' us how she got those scars on her face and shoulder." Dad raised an eyebrow. "Lucifer did it."

He raised the other one, and turned to me. "That sounds like a story."

Adam shook his head. "Why would you be dealing with Lucifer? I mean, what would make you tangle with the most...I mean, he's the biggest bad guy ever, right?"

What would make me, indeed.

Dean nudged me.

"I took his favorite toy away, and he was pissed." Still couldn't bring myself to just be straight with them. The more cryptic I was, the more they'd push, and still I was evasive. I was being a shit, again.

"What toy would Lucifer have?" Adam asked.

I lolled my head up at him. "You."

Well. What was the point of doing that? Adam's expressions ricocheted between shock, fear, wonder, and what the fuck. Everyone was stunned into silence, and a part of me was just a little satisfied at that. I picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

Not bad.

I kept eating, aware of everyone staring, wanting more information, but I just...I just closed off and ate my grilled cheese.

"Kate."

"Fuck off, Cas."

"You're being very unfair."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then stop. They don't deserve it."

"I don't deserve to be spied on."

And he was gone.

Dropping the sandwich on the place, I sighed and flopped against the back of my chair. "I'm sorry. For you, nothing's happened. You went to bed, woke up, and somehow I lost thirty pounds, gained a bunch of weird scars, and started spouting how I've been gone for two years having tea with Lucifer."

I pushed back my chair and stood up, placing the ice pack on the table. Shaking my head, I continued. "I don't know what to tell you, okay? I know you want information, I know you need it. And actually, there's stuff you really do need to know. But telling you feels like I'm telling a big story, instead of sharing real events from my life. And right now, that feels really wrong. I just...I need some time to get used to you all even being here." I looked at Dad and Bobby. "Not dead." I turned to Adam. "Not damaged." I faced Dean. "Not...older." His eyes widened at that.

Bobby pulled off his cap. Dad stepped up. "And you need to know that while other people may have been taking care of you in our place, that job is ours, and we need to do it. They may have tried ten things to make you eat, but we haven't. So give us a chance to be there for you, the way you've always been there for us."

I plopped back in my chair, nodding.

Dean stood up, bumping me with his hip. "Eat your sandwich. I'll get you some cranberry juice."

More contritely, I nodded again, picking up the food and taking another bite.

Adam pulled out a tube of muscle cream. "Let's see if this helps, okay?"

Another nod. Another bite. Dad nodded his approval, and he and Bobby left the room.

Adam rubbed some cream onto my scars, which now tingled from the menthol substance. After capping the tube, he washed his hands, snagged his textbook, and slunk away.

I finished half the sandwich, and half a glass of juice. Breathing was a little easier with just Sam and Dean in the room. Sam, who hadn't said a word this whole time. He'd been leaning against the counter, watching and listening. I caught him sharing a look with Dean, who nodded in response.

Dean handed him a bottle of Tylenol, ruffled my hair, then left.

I looked up at Sam.

He looked over at me, then smiled his fucking smile. "So...conflict, huh? Guilt for being here, guilt for not being there, trying to keep both separate, but we're the same people sorta, so that's not easy. They're all bossy, closing in on you, you're a different person and you need to mesh who you are with who we are, because you moved on while we...apparently slept." He lowered his voice. "And...I'm guessing something went down with Cas as well, which is really why you're prickling."

We blinked at each other.

"How'd I do?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

That response - telling me he missed me back - was the magic phrase. Those four words centered me, validating everything, instantly.

If anyone could understand me, or at least come close, it was him.

It was always him.

"Finish eating, before Dean has a heart attack. I got some of your favorite beer. We're gonna go sit in the Impala for a while, okay?"

More than okay.

xxxxx

Epilogue…

The humming hadn't stopped in hours, beyond the point of being annoying.

Said annoyance hadn't gone unnoticed.

"It helps me focus, and I need to focus."

There was a huff. "I know you need to focus, but it's been hours of the same song. Don't you know anything else?"

Crowley straightened up, an amused look on his face. "It's sort of ironic. Or at least I think it is - that song butchered the meaning of the word horribly. Here I am, working the black magic of my mother, humming a tune the little whore sang to me when I was a child, when I'd sworn off anything and everything to do with her."

Sam rolled his eyes, adjusting the sling on his shoulder. The fucking cast just itched like mad. He tossed a pencil onto the desk and closed the enormous book in front of him. "Find anything?"

Crowley shook his head, and went back to staring in a large bowl, filled halfway with a dark liquid. "Nothing since the last time you asked, which was, oh, five minutes ago."

"Great."

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Cas joined them. "How's it going?"

Sam sighed.  "Nothing to report, here, apparently." Crowley snorted. "What's going on in Heaven?"

Cas shook his head. "Naomi is still scrambling to keep control, and no one seems to care that Metatron is missing. They're just glad he's gone. They don't care where."

Sam huffed, grimacing at the stupidity of angels. Well. Some angels. "Of course not."

"Hold on a minute…"

Sam scrambled to his feet, careful of his injured arm, getting to Crowley's side in a few steps. "What is it?"

"I think...yes...I found her."

"Are you sure?"

Crowley shot Sam a withering look. "Blood binding spells are the most powerful in existence. I have enough of your sister's blood in my veins to be able to locate her, no matter where or when she is. I don't know why her blood made an appearance, but it did, and I have a lock on it."

Sam picked up the duffel that'd been packed and ready for over a month. Crowley grabbed his. "Okay. Let's go."

"Sam…" Cas put a hand on Sam's arm.

Sam nodded, clapping Cas on the shoulder. "I know you want to come with, Cas, but someone has to be here to open the portal."

"What are we, chopped liver?" Charlie demanded, as she and Kevin walked in, carrying plates of food. "Wait - what the hell? We step out for nachos and you find her? Jesus!"

Crowley shrugged, helping himself to a handful of chips. "I can't control when the spell's gonna work, love. I just cast them."

Sam impatiently nudged Crowley. "Come on - we're wasting time."

Crowley sighed. "Moose - you need to relax, at least a little, before you give yourself a heart attack."

Sam pinched his forehead. "Let's just go."

Charlie set down her plate and gave Sam a hug. "Find him, okay? Bring him home."

Sam nodded. "I will."

"And say hi to my cutie."

Sam laughed.

She nodded back, turning to Crowley. "And you. Take care of him, and yourself."

Crowley's head dipped slightly, a smile on his lips. "No worries, there, sweetheart."

She retreated to Kevin's side. They both looked so hopeful.

Sam turned to Cas. "Contact me if anything happens."

He nodded. "And you do the same. If you need me - "

"If I need an angel's power, I'll ask that Castiel. Seriously, Cas, I can't save Dean if you're with me. I need you here. There's...there's hardly anyone left here to help us." He glanced at Kevin. "Speaking of which...call Jody - fill her in. She was really pissed the last time we kept her in the dark. I don't know how long we'll be gone, and she will help if you need anything."

"Will do," Kevin said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Crowley and Sam stepped into the center of a elaborate symbol, painted on the floor. They looked at each other.

Crowley smiled. "Well. Time for an adventure." He snapped his fingers, and they were gone.

XXXXXXXXX