Title: Nothing and Everything

Part Two: Retribution

Chapter 34

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was eating breakfast when Jo came downstairs and to the table. She was still in the clothes she’d worn the day before and looked like she hadn’t slept at all. Her eyes were tired, with slight shadows beneath them, and her manner exhausted. Dean hadn’t been sleeping well and he wondered if that had contributed to Jo’s decision to stay up all night. He heard Dean talking upstairs, probably to Jack. Gwen was still out running.

She laid papers on the table. “You’re good at finding people, Sam.” Pulling out a chair, Jo sank into it, resting an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand.

“I guess.” The papers looked to be a bunch of forms. “What are the papers for?”

“You ever think about the sort of normal jobs we can do with our skills? I mean good, helpful jobs, not things like bartending.”

“Don’t let Ellen hear you say bartending isn’t helpful.”

She cocked her head to one side and ran a hand through her hair. “You know what I mean. Actively using our skills.”

He finished his toast as he thought about that. There were a few professions out there that used their skills. “Of course I’ve wondered what could apply. Why?”

She moved his plate out of the way and pushed the papers closer to him. “What would you think of starting a private investigation business? Or professional investigating, I guess is the new term for it.”

“As in taking pictures of people cheating on their spouses?”

“As in, plus a bunch of other sorts of work.” She nodded, raising a hand and counting off her points as she made them. “One, it’d be using our skills in off-time. Two, it’d give us a legitimate reason to poke around, at least here in South Dakota. Three, it’d bring in funds to offset operating costs. Four --”

He held up a hand. “Okay, okay. You’ve been thinking about it. What brought this on now?”

“Mom and Bobby are right.” She shrugged. “Credit card scams and gambling aren’t going to keep us all in cash for long. Never does. While we’re okay right now due to the sale of a couple properties, that money won’t last long. Gas, food, other expenses…. With the cards, it’s getting to the point technology-wise, that it’ll be easier for the authorities to track us and we hardly want that. We’ve been lucky so far. We need something legit to use as a front, like what Bobby has and what mom and dad had with the Roadhouse. Bobby’s got a working business and that’s what we need to implement. Besides, I’ve been thinking about Jack and him growing up here. If we do this, he won’t have to make up stories about what we do for a living and it might even give him a sense of being normal.” She leaned back, slouching in the chair, her right hand hooking on her left shoulder. “He could take Dean in to school for ‘what my parents do for a living’ day. Dean would love that. He’d jump at the chance to do that dad thing.”

“Jo --” He started to tell her they weren’t normal and never would be, but she was nodding again.

“I know, Sam. I know. It still won’t be normal. I’m not looking to try to give him normal, just the appearance of it. Something like what I had.” Her teeth grazed her lower lip for a few seconds. “It’s a job we can all do. We’re trained. We investigate for a living anyway. All this would do would make it official. There’s no special license required here. There was a movement back in 2011, but it fell through. It’s back up for consideration, but I think we can easily fudge the paperwork if it passes. No way we won’t pass any requirements they’d throw at us. Only thing we need right now is a business license.”

He touched the papers. “That’s these?”

“Yeah. I filled out most of them already.”

“Have you talked to Dean about it?”

She looked down at the table. “No. I wanted to see what you thought about the idea first.”

Honestly, he thought she’d hit on something. They’d be in business for themselves and could take whatever cases they wanted -- like now only with the assumption of actual pay involved. Still, Sam found it interesting she hadn’t mentioned it to Dean yet. Was she afraid Dean would shoot the idea down unless she had backup? “I think it’s a good idea. You thought up a name?”

“I don’t know. WHC Investigations? Nothing cutesy. Whatever we pick has to be serious and our business has to stand up to scrutiny.”

Sam thumbed through the papers. “Tell you what. Let me see what Gwen thinks and then we’ll all take it to Dean together.”

“Okay.”

The shower upstairs started.

“Go get some sleep. You look ready to drop.”

“Yeah. I am actually.” Jo got up and moved towards the stairs.

He reviewed the papers and thought about the best way to bring it to Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen hurried into the house and into the bedroom, reaching under the bed for the weapons locker they kept there. She dragged it out and, as she turned, she saw a man in the corner. She dropped the locker, heart hammering in her chest. Pulling her gun, she aimed it at him. “Turn slowly and look at me.”

The man turned his head. “Gwen?” It was Castiel’s voice and he sounded confused. He faced her.

She stepped back to the bedside table and snapped on the light, blinking at the sudden brightness. Castiel was frowning. “What the hell are you doing in our bedroom?” A glance showed that he was also looking through one of her father’s trunks. One was open, the blanket she’d laid on top of the contents set aside. “And why are you rifling through our things?”

“Technically, they’re still your father’s belongings.”

“Question remains the same. I’d appreciate an answer.”

“You should put the gun away, Gwen. It won’t hurt me.” He took a step towards her.

Her heartbeat quickened a bit more at that single step and she adjusted her grip on the gun. “Maybe not, but it makes me feel better to point it at you.”

“Ahh.” Castiel didn’t move closer, stopping at that step.

“Explain.”

“Gwen --”

“Oh for --” She sighed in frustration. “Turn to the wall and place your hands on it.”

He glanced at the wall. “Am I correct in assuming you wish to,” his brows rose in disbelief, “search me?”

“Just turn around.”

“Dean has never done that. Nor has Sam.”

“Your first time. I’m honored, really.” She rolled her eyes. “Turn around, Castiel.” Going to him, she put the gun away long enough to pat him down as thoroughly as she could.

“What are you looking for,” he asked, starting to stand up straight and turn.

She shoved him back to the wall, or tried to. He was like a statue standing there. “Whatever you might have pilfered.” He didn’t move until she’d answered his question, resuming his position with hands against the wall and legs spread.

“I’ve pilfered nothing.”

“Well, you’re obviously not here for a social call.” Gwen finished the pat down. “You waited until we were all gone. A little explanation would go a long way here.” He had nothing on him, no books or wallet or anything. Even the cell phone she knew he carried was gone. He’d taken nothing, just as he’d said.

“I was curious as to what was in his journals. I know all of you have learned a few things from them in recent days. I’m something of a scholar myself, so I wanted to peruse them.”

“So you ask to do that, you don’t come in while we’re gone. You’ve been around us all long enough to know that, so I have to ask….” She backed away from him, training her gun on him once more. “What were you really looking for?”

He glanced away and back.

“Or was it a case of putting something back? Did you return the journals you’ve been taking while Sam’s trying to read them? It’s pissing him off by the way. It’s three now, but I guess you know that already.”

His expression turned puzzled. “Three? I thought there was just the one that had been lost.”

“Three,” she confirmed, “and that’s only the ones he’s reading. I noticed another gap in the dates, a couple later ones, so it’s probably more like five.”

“I’ve not taken five of your father’s journals, Gwen.” There was a slight emphasis on the word ‘five’.

“I’d like to believe you.” She glanced down at the trunk. “But you’re here and the evidence is pretty damning.”

He glanced at the doorway and appeared to suffer a moment of indecision, staring alternately at the doorway then at her. “Is someone outside waiting on you?”

“No. I ran back alone. Why?” She and Jo were only practicing with various weapons out in the salvage yard while Ellen took Jack and had lunch with Jodie and Sam, Bobby, and Dean were working on some project that required them all to head to the home improvement stores for hours. Gwen wouldn’t be surprised if they built some sort of trapdoor for the house like Bobby had in his.

Castiel’s glance turned to the trunk, then back to her. She read indecision in his entire manner right then. “May I share something with you?”

“Of course.”

“Would you keep it to yourself for the moment?”

She lowered the gun slightly. “Depends on what you tell me.”

“Please. I need an assurance of privacy. At least for awhile.”

How often did Castiel ever say please? This was a thing that happened only rarely and she was frankly surprised he was wanting to confide anything to her. Surely, he’d rather confide in Dean? Or Sam even? Possibly Jo? Slowly, she nodded. “Go on.”

“The world is made of balance.” He held up both hands and made a weighing gesture. “For every good, there is an equal bad somewhere in the world.”

“Yes?” This was kid stuff. Still, she was curious where he was heading with that introduction.

“At times, there is a need for the balance to tip dangerously in one direction or another so that after an event occurs, proper balance is restored.” He illustrated with his hands.

What the heck was he trying to talk around and tell her? “I know. There’s supposed to be a balance kept at all times. Keeping the bad things at bay is part of our job and goes right with that, helping keep balance.”

“Yes. Your job contributes to keeping that balance. Now, angels are agents of God, Fates, and Death. Even in this age of New Heaven, we angels are still required to be agents to those whether we wish to be or not. It’s our job as much as yours is hunting evil creatures.”

She lowered the gun completely and shrugged. “Castiel, what are you telling me? You’re an angel, I know that. You have a job to do, I get that --”

He turned his attention to the floor, a ripple of emotion sliding so quickly across his face that she almost thought she imagined it until he spoke. “I was there, Gwen.”

Gwen took the few remaining steps back to him, the way he said the words chilling her. They were harsh, gruff words, tinged with regret and he almost seemed relieved to have said them. “There,” she repeated. “Where were you?” She put her gun away, tucking her coat back down over it.

“I couldn’t stop it, though I wanted to. They wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t help any of you, especially you.”

The accident, she realized with a jolt of shock. He was talking about the accident. “What happened out there on that road?” She asked him that, though she wasn’t really sure she wanted to remember. The reports she’d read of the crash had been terrible enough.

His gaze raised to meet hers, that searing blue pinning her in place. “You don’t remember?”

“No. I can’t --” His fingers grazed her forehead and Gwen gasped, remembering everything. Mick, how strange he’d behaved, and the terrible moment when the creature in him had attacked her. She remembered the pain of impact and that question he’d asked. ‘Did he teach you the ritual?’ He must have meant the ritual to bind him again, which had to be what Sam was looking for in Aaron’s journals. Was Castiel also searching for it? Was that why the journals were missing? “You were there?” Her focus had understandably been on Mick and little else. “At the…the scene?” It felt difficult to draw in a breathe and she forced herself to do it.

“Yes. I was helpless to do anything but watch until it was over and even then all I was allowed to do was call 911. I’m sorry, Gwen. If I could have spared all of you the pain I would have.”

She swallowed hard and rested her hands on her hips, drumming her fingers, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “Who had you helpless?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. Whoever it was put me and the rest of my family through hell. I’d like a few words with him or her.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell you this so you can try for revenge or anything of the sort. I told you so you’ll understand later and maybe you can….”

“Can what?”

“Share your understanding.”

“Share it?”

Castiel squared his shoulders, chin tilting up a fraction. “Do you now blame me for not saving you?” A carefully spoken query.

He’d said he wasn’t able. Why would she blame him for that? “Should I? You said someone or several someones had you incapacitated. Why would I blame you?”

Relief tread across his features. He sighed. “I’d forgotten not everyone subscribes to certain methods of blame.”

“Wait….” She turned her head a little, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. “You think Sam will blame you when he finds out you were there?” He could be right at that. Sam and Dean might very well put a label of blame upon Castiel for actions out of his control, yet when the emotion of the moment of reveal had passed, and all bits and pieces of information known, that label could be negated.

“He and Dean both,” he confirmed. “They will. I know it and understand it’s how they are. They’ll be upset that I didn’t help you or stop it from happening, but I’m coming to realize that I can’t be the human friend they want me to be, Gwen. I’m not human. I’m an angel and as such….” He looked away, regret and sadness now there on his face. “I have to act in ways they don’t understand in the course of my job, do things they can’t comprehend because of my job.”

“Am I to interpret that to mean that job could include being a hindrance to an ongoing, important investigation into a creature that can tear up the world if left unrestrained?”

The truth was in his eyes. He was behind some of it at least. “It could be interpreted as such. However, I’m not the only…being…on the playing field. There are others, more powerful than I, with a stake in matters that are above me in rank. I mentioned balance and order before. It all plays together in the end.”

“The ones who kept you from helping are still…in the game? They’re watching?”

“Yes.”

If she was interpreting him correctly, he was withholding information from them, but was being coerced somehow into cooperating with that agenda. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “I want those journals back, Castiel, from wherever they are. They’re mine. It’s wrong to take them.” She held up a hand at his protest. “I don’t mind you, or anyone else, reading them, but they need to be back here. That information, whatever is in there, needs to be returned to me, the rightful owner. I don’t care how you do it. Make it happen and soon.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll keep what you told me between us for now, but it’ll have to come out eventually. You know that. I could accidentally let it slip.”

“I understand.”

“And if whoever was behind tying your hands is also behind the information vacuum we’ve been seeing regarding the soul stealer…. That’s important information we need. You can talk to us. You can tell us what’s going on with you. Surely Dean has conveyed that to you? We might not understand the whole big picture you have to consider, but we can at least listen.”

“Dean has mentioned being willing to listen before. I’ll consider full disclosure.”

“It might not be as bad as you think.” She’d make sure there were no angel swords sitting around before that meeting however. Just in case things didn’t go well. “Waiting to talk to us all won’t help.”

His lips twitched. “You’re a positive woman.”

“It’s a curse.”

“I am sorry you were hurt, Gwen.”

“I’m okay now.”

“I’ll see what I can do about the journals.”

She sat for awhile after he left, thinking about what he’d said. Balance. What other powerful creature talked about balance and could potentially keep an angel in line? There was one she could think of immediately and only because Dean had mentioned it before. Death. Lucifer had raised Death, and now he walked free on the earth.

It wasn’t a comfort to consider that being having an interest in what was happening here. Death was…death. She shifted uneasily. Dean may be a little blasé about Death, but Gwen wanted nothing to do with him on a personal, one-to-one basis.

She hugged herself. Was there any way dealing with the soul stealer wasn’t going to end badly for at least one of them?

~~~~~~~~~~

Looking at possible cases could take minutes or hours depending on the details they had at hand. Dean was bored with the process, ready to take something already and head out. His arm was itching like crazy around the healing gunshot wound, Gwen and Sam were acting more like newlyweds than they ever had, Jo was talking toilet training for Jack, and Jack had developed the ability to somehow climb out of his crib without assistance. Dean had woken that morning to Jack standing by the bed patting his face with a hand and laughing. Right after breakfast, he’d lowered the mattress to the lowest level, but didn’t have any hopes it’d stop Jack from climbing out. Jo had lowered it once already.

“Lacey White couldn’t have fought him off.” Jo’s words were softly spoken and firmly certain.

“Women fight off attackers all the time,” Sam pointed out.

“No, think about it.”

To Dean’s eyes, Jo looked slightly uncomfortable. “Go on.”

Gwen crossed her arms, her gaze thoughtful.

“She’s my size.” Jo pointed at one paper. “It says right there. If her attacker was possessed like we think, she couldn’t fight him off. She’s not a hunter, has no training to protect herself. Her attacker was somewhere between Sam’s size and rough build and yours, Dean.”

Gwen began to nod. “She’s right. I mean, I’m trained and if Sam wants me down, I’m down. No amount of struggle changes that.”

Interesting tidbit. Dean noticed a faint hint of a flush on Sam’s cheekbones. Also interesting.

Sam cleared his throat. “She did fight him off though. The report says she did.”

“Why was she able to?” Jo looked at them all and shrugged. “Back in Duluth, I wasn’t able to fight Sam off when he was possessed and I’m pretty sure that even with all of my training and the dirty fighting tactics I’ve learned since I still couldn’t fight him off now. Male upper body strength pretty much trumps female lower body strength.” Stretching out a hand, she searched the papers, finally tugging one out of the pile. “Here. It say that he had her on the ground. What’s the first thing women are told about attacks?”

Gwen answered her. “Don’t let him get you on the ground or, one way or another, it’s all over. You’re raped or dead, probably both.” She shook her head. “Jo’s right. There’s no way. Lacey’s story doesn’t hold up.”

They were right. Dean grasped Jo’s arm and led her over to stand beside Sam. Stepping back, he mentally went through what Lacey White had said about the attack in the report. It didn’t make sense. “You’re right. What are we looking at then? Was she possessed herself and this is just a case of a little demon on demon violence?”

Gwen rested her chin on her hand. “Or she’s not even human to begin with and this fits with the soul stealer attacks.”

He nodded. “Okay, let’s run with that. Let’s say it was Mick. How did she get away? She’s obviously not soulless or has a piece missing.”

A toy came flying over the baby gate at the door into Jack’s room, bounced off the wall and rolled to the bottom of the gate. Jack spit out his pacifier and tried to reach for it. “Dada,” he cried. He’d either been tossing toys out of his room every few minutes or standing at the gate trying to get their attention.

Dean stepped over, picked up the toy, and tossed it back into the room. He suspected that if Jack really wanted to get their attention, he’d climb over the gate. This was just him seeing what he could get away with.

Sam crossed his arms on the table top. “Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe it’s like whatever happened with me. He tried and wasn’t able to, so he fled.” He sighed. “But why would he flee? He could’ve just killed her.”

“That’s a good question. What do we do about Lacey White? Go and investigate? Or let it go?” Gwen began gathering the papers they’d been studying.

“Investigate.” Dean shrugged. “If she knows something, we have to. She’s only a seven hour drive away. Leave early, spend the night and head back?” He tugged one picture towards him and looked at it. “You know, I know this chick from somewhere.” Dean tapped his finger to the picture. “I’ve seen her before, just can’t remember where.”

And in the middle of the night, it hit him. Getting out of bed, he went downstairs and into Sam and Gwen’s room. The door slammed against the wall, waking both of them, but Dean was too busy opening one trunk and lifting out the box of pictures to say anything. He turned, the box in his hands.

The light came on. Gwen was on her knees, knife in one hand and Sam was sitting, gun pointed at Dean.

“It’s just me,” he told them and took the box into the living room. Dean set it on the floor and crouched down, opening it and rifling through the pictures.

“What are you looking for,” Gwen asked, pulling on a robe as she joined him.

Sam was right behind her.

“Something that might help us.” He was beginning to think he’d never find that single picture when suddenly it was there in his hands, one of the few pictures Aaron Bennett had seen fit to label. On it was written ‘Bill and Brenda’. With a satisfied grin, he held it up so they could both see it. “Look familiar?”

“The girlfriend he had before he met Ellen.” Sam took the picture. “That’s her, that’s Lacey White.”

“And she looks exactly the same.” Gwen took the picture. “I think the odds of her being a supernatural creature shot up exponentially.”

“A supernatural creature hanging out with the three musketeers.”

“Coincidentally, she was Bill’s girlfriend during the period where his parents died, which means she was there during the soul stealer stuff.” Sam sounded excited and Dean could feel that excitement himself. This was a break, one they needed.

He smiled. “Miss Lacey White here we come.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel wasn’t sure why he’d unburdened himself to Gwen. Her calm acceptance of what he’d told her made him feel that perhaps it all could work out. She accepted that he wasn’t human, that he dealt with matters far above her pay grade as a human -- a thing he thought Sam and Dean, especially Dean, tended to forget. Her naturally sunny nature soothed his anxiety and weariness and, for a moment, he’d almost shared specifics.

Almost.

She knew enough. She was privy to the fact that while he was involved, he wasn’t plucking the strings, and perhaps when the time came, she would intercede with Sam and Dean on his behalf.

He found her attitude refreshing. She wanted little to do with angels and the ‘behind the scenes’ matters. She had her role as a hunter and was content to do it without knowledge of more. The only knowledge she wanted was what it took to deal with the latest creature of crisis.

Unlike her father.

The more Castiel learned about Aaron, the more this truth became evident. Aaron had sought knowledge, become almost obsessed with learning more to the point that he’d unearthed those Enochian symbols. He’d had no assistance in that endeavor, unless one counted the occasional demon he’d trapped and tortured. Aaron had been just that smart and driven, telling himself that he was working for the greater good; his improvements would aid hunters everywhere; he could turn the tables on a tide of evil he’d seen starting to rush in. He’d been on a quest to cram as much knowledge as possible into his mind and some of that knowledge hadn’t been the good sort. He’d sometimes dabbled in what other hunters would call questionable information from sources that should be destroyed.

Castiel thought it might even have been a good thing in a way that Mia had gone after him, as her appearance had distracted him from that endeavor. He’d turned his intellect elsewhere. If he’d continued on his path of learning, he could have become a threat to everything that had happened since. The sort of information Aaron had dealt in might have made John Winchester’s search for Azazel easier. He might even have uncovered information that would have aided Sam and Dean over the years. The timeline would have been changed certainly.

The one journal Castiel had in his possession told the first part of that story. It was a story he wondered if Gwen would be disappointed to read. It clearly displayed the flawed man Aaron had been and how he’d become seduced by knowledge. Then again, she seemed to accept that those she knew and had known were flawed and human. She’d connected with Sam at his most flawed and rolled with the changes that had come to their relationship. She’d weathered Dean, Jo, and Ellen at their best and worst, and taken the truth of her past with nothing less than her usual cheerful manner. Maybe the respect she’d developed for Aaron wouldn’t die at the truth of the man he’d been.

True, he’d been loving, kind, and gentle with his friends and family, but he’d also been a genius, with all of the arrogance that such an intellect could bring. He had been curt, direct to the point of tactlessness, impatient, and, yes, arrogant. By now, Brenda, or Lacey as she was calling herself now, would be sharing that and other information with Sam and Dean.

As soon as she’d surfaced, Castiel had gone to see her, yet not let her see him. He’d watched her, reviewed the file on her, and made the risky decision to not keep her hidden. He was weary of his assignment from Death, leaving the location she was at and searching out Balthazar. He found him in one classroom in heaven, talking to two giggly angels in female vessels. The two angels fled at Castiel’s approach and he closed the door behind them.

“Give them back,” Castiel demanded, watching Balthazar closely.

He sat on the table and crossed his arms. “Give what back?”

“The journals. You stole them and Gwen thinks I did it.”

“To be fair, you did take one book.”

“I borrowed it.”

“Does Gwen know you borrowed it?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then it’s called stealing, Cas.”

“I’m going to put it back.”

“Still called stealing if the owner is initially unaware of the ‘borrowing’.” He used air quotes on the last word.

“You put those back and I’ll put the one I borrowed --”

“Stole.”

“--back.” Castiel scowled.

“Don’t be a grumpy Gus at me. You stole first and some sterling example of angelic behavior that is. I’m merely imitating you.”

“You’re blaming your own propensity towards thievery on me?”

“Yes. That’s my story and I’ll stick to it.”

Castiel sighed. “Return the journals to where you found them.”

“Tell me why you took the one journal,” he countered.

“It’s complicated, Balthazar. There are things in it that the Winchesters can’t know yet.”

“Then I’m doing the same thing, only the ones I took have things they can’t know. Aaron Bennett was a treasure trove of knowledge forbidden to humans. He had no business with a lot of what’s on those pages. Some of it, I can’t pinpoint where he even found it.”

“He knew a Watcher.”

A smirk tugged his lips. “I was right then. How about that, Cassy?”

“You get a gold star. Put them back. We’ll deal with the consequences when they come around.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “You’re going to bug me about this until I do it, aren’t you?”

“What do you think?”

With a put upon sigh, Balthazar stood. “Fine, but I’ll put them back one at a time, like Sam just missed seeing them there in his frantic searches.”

Exactly Castiel’s plan for that final journal. By his calculations, there shouldn’t be too much longer before he could return the journal and the original text and let the last days of the soul stealer running free play out. Three months maybe? Perhaps four at most. As much damage as the creature was causing all of the country, it couldn’t be much longer. The human media had taken notice, deciding there was a serial killer loose. They’d fixated upon Mick Richardson.

He supposed it was easier for them to think a human could do all of those things they attributed to him. The truth was more than many human minds could handle.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lacey White looked just like the picture of Brenda, Bill Harvelle’s girlfriend. Dean was a little freaked by that. It was as if no time had gone by for her.

Dean held up the picture, not wasting much time on the cover story he and Sam had come up with. It was more important that they get her talking. “You might want to spill, sister.”

Lacey White’s shoulders slumped and she sat heavily in the chair beside the door. In seconds, she seemed far older than the early twenties woman she looked like. “May I see that picture?”

He handed it to her.

She studied it, a slight fond quirk to her lips. “Bill Harvelle. Now there’s a blast from the past. Where did you get this?”

“Aaron Bennett’s daughter.”

“He has a daughter? Wow. Good for him. How are Aaron and Bill these days?”

“Dead,” Sam informed her.

Her lips parted, but the news didn’t seem to shock her, only make her slightly sad. After a second, she nodded. “Was it in the line?”

“Line?”

“Of duty, of course. Hunting. Were they working?”

“Bill was. Aaron…had other trouble of the female variety.”

“He was a handsome devil. How did you know Bill?”

“Our dad did,” Dean supplied. “We’re more acquainted with his wife and daughter.”

“Bill had a daughter, too?” She smiled. It was a true sort of smile, her pleasure in the news genuine. “I’m glad. He wanted a family. I’d thought he’d be a good father. Did he marry Ellen or was it another woman?”

“You know Ellen?” He blinked.

“I introduced them in a roundabout way. I thought she’d be a good match for him. A strong, independent woman. I can’t bear children, you see, and with everything that happened, I decided the best thing to do was to leave.”

Sam half laughed. “Who else do you know, Lacey? Or is it Brenda?”

“Either. Who are you wondering about?”

“Campbells. Neal and Patricia.”

Her nod was slow. “Yes. I knew all of them.”

Dean stepped close to her. “Care to explain why you knew them and what you are? I mean, it’s obvious you’re not human, so what are you?”

She didn’t seem afraid at all, staring up at him with a gaze that was clear and calm. “Did you think your angel friend Castiel was the only angel to ever have his powers taken away?”

“You’re no angel.”

“Not in a couple thousand years, no. I was at one time. Shared a few things I wasn’t supposed to and got the back of Michael’s hand. Not literally, mind you. He turned the tap, drained away the powers and left me with just enough to not age. Periodically, I check in with the hunting community, see what’s developed, but for the most part I live a nearly human life over and over, the penance Michael handed out to me. It’s not an ideal situation. I can only stay in one area a few years before I have to move on.”

Understanding shone in Sam’s eyes. “You’re a Watcher.”

“I was. The others had their powers taken completely and died within a generation or so. A few managed to reproduce and have descendants somewhere on earth today.” She reached up and indid the clasp holding back her long blond hair, tossing the clasp onto the table where she’d placed her keys a few minutes earlier. “Before you ask, I can’t help you stop him.”

“Him?”

“The soul stealer. Michael did some mind surgery on me. I can share nothing more than what I originally shared way back before my fall. I’m sorry.”

“That Michael.” Dean snorted. “What an archangel.” He wanted to swear loud and long at that. They weren’t going to get anything from Lacey, or Brenda, or whatever her name was.

“He’s the best of them all, Dean. He was right to stop me, to stop all of us.”

“And leave you like this for eternity?”

“Until out father returns, yes.”

He changed the subject. Discussing the archangel Michael would lead them to a place he didn’t want to go with other matters at hand. “Can you tell us what happened back then with the soul stealer?”

Lacey studied him, then Sam. “We should adjourn to my living room. Grab some beers from the fridge and I’ll tell you what I remember.”

Perhaps this wouldn’t be a dead end after all.