Title: Nothing and Everything

Part Two: Retribution

Chapter 42

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo poured liquid into the punch bowl in a furtive movement. Dean caught her hand and took the flask from her.

“Sam know you stole his flask?” He sniffed the mouth of it and frowned. He’d been expecting alcohol, God knows why, since he’d already observed earlier that the punch was spiked. Jo’s behavior should have clued him in that it wasn’t alcohol. “This isn’t alcohol.”

“Of course Sam knows. I didn’t steal it, I asked, and it’s holy water. If anyone has a rider and drinks the punch, we’ll know it.” She snatched it back, finished pouring the liquid in the bowl and capped the flask, tossing it back into her bag. “I had to borrow Sam’s. You’ve got like a death grip on yours and he rarely uses his.”

His lips tightened and he grasped her arm, tugging her with him through a door way into a deserted hall. “Give me the bag.” He tucked his fingers around the strap. Jo grabbed hold of it. Their resulting tug of war made the strap on her dress slide down her shoulder.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Dean. No.”

“Jo. Give it.”

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh of pure attitude, she let him take it and straightened the strap of her dress. “Fine.”

It was heavy, like it actually had their son in it instead of merely being big enough to hold him. Setting it on the floor, Dean crouched, unzipped it, and spread the edges. “What the hell do you have in here?”

“Provisions.”

“Provisions?” He held up a wooden stake and mallet, staring up at her for the span of about five seconds. “Okay, Buffy. You got hairspray and a lighter in here, too?” Stupid question, as he uncovered those next.

“I have to be prepared, Dean.”

“Prepared for what?” He pulled out the next item, a thin rod a foot long. “Is this an iron rod?”

“Yes and I have to be…” she shrugged, “prepared. For anything.”

He found a gun, box of bullets, two different knives, a large container of salt, the flask, and a thermos. He thought the weight of the bag was adequately explained. “Jesus, Jo. No wonder you were starting to really list to one side.” He shook the thermos. “What’s in here?”

“A vodka collins, strong on the vodka.”

And she’d claimed she’d spilled the vodka bottle. Instead, she’d been make a thermos of mixed drink. “Why the thermos?”

“Because if it turned out I was inconceivably wrong, I thought I might need the strong drink to get through the night.”

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked through the rest of the bag before putting things back. What on earth would she need the bone of a lesser saint for? Or nightshade? He sniffed at one container. Was that rosemary? “We’re putting this in the car.”

“No.” Jo shook her head, crossing her arms. “No, Dean, we’ll need that.”

Standing, he grasped both her arms and shook her gently. “Stop it! While I totally get the paranoia, you’re overreacting.”

“I’m not,” she insisted. “Reunions are orderly, normal five, ten, fifteen year things. My class liked order. They liked normal. Anything or anyone different was mocked, spit on, and bullied until, it, they either broke down or fought back. For them to do an odd-numbered year reunion is bizarre, not to mention Jenny Mayweather’s behavior and Heather Holt’s insistence that everyone try the punch. What the hell? I don’t want to try the freakin’ punch!”

“Calm down.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “People grow up.”

She snorted. “You never knew these people. You were one of them in high school, the popular, cool kids. Sam said. You don’t understand --”

“I understand these people hurt you back then, and believe it or not, honey, I do understand what you went through. I watched it with Sam.”

“Hurt, humiliated….” Her features scrunched up and he saw tears slip from her eyes.

“Why did we come to this,” he asked, drawing her against him and wrapping his arms around her. If she really hadn’t wanted to come, then why had she? If being back here hurt this much, why had she agreed to do it? Her body shook against his.

“I don’t know,” she sniffled against his chest. “Something stupid about resolving old hurts and closure.”

Of all the things in the world Dean hated, he thought that watching Jo cry was the worst. He wanted to take that pain away and make it all better for her. This time, he didn’t think it was possible. She had too many issues with her former classmates to have any sort of real closure or resolution. “Okay. I don’t think we’re going to accomplish that. What’s say we stay another half hour or so, see if that dinner we were promised appears, then go get a pizza somewhere and catch a movie?”

She pulled back, nodding and wiping at her eyes. “I’d like that.” She sighed and looked down at the bag. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s nothing going on. I just…assumed there was.”

“I get that, too, you know.” He retrieved the bag, shouldering the strap.

“Heather, Jenny, and Tanya were always up to something. It seemed logical that that’d continue.” She took a few steps back towards the gym.

“Logical,” he agreed. “Why did you bring nightshade, rosemary, and the bone of a lesser saint?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea. We always have to have one of those for some thing or another. I kind of hoped we wouldn’t have to use the lesser saint bone. My bone guy told me last time he only had a couple more left and I needed to get a new supplier.”

“You were being prepared.” She was right. They did seem to always need those things.

“I was.”

“You know, if something did happen, we have the entire well-stocked trunk of the Impala right outside.”

“True, but we might not be able to get to it.”

She had a point and seemed in a much better mood at the prospect of leaving soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Upon returning to the gym, Jo actually felt lighter than she had emotionally. It helped that Dean understood where she was coming from. There wasn’t getting past the past on this. Better that she set it all aside and let it go. She’d go home and never think about high school again.

Taking another bottle of beer, she opened it and caught sight of Heather off to one side, half hidden behind decorations and making tiny signs in the air with one hand. Jo watched her a moment, then looked at where Heather was making gestures just as Jenny began to tell yet another person all about how slutty and drunk she was.

Jo smiled. It seemed that was all Jenny could talk….

Oh my God, she thought. I was right. I was really right.

She almost laughed as she put the pieces together and nudged Dean with her elbow.

“What?”

She jerked her chin at Heather. “What does that look like to you?”

He watched, good mood sliding away and scowl forming. “Trouble. You’ve got to be kidding me.” He set the bag down. It thumped on the floor. “You were right.”

“All these years of thinking of her as a witch --”

“I thought the word was ‘bitch’.”

She waved a hand. “That too. And here she is. Really a witch.” She couldn’t help laughing. Heather Holt was a witch. An honest to God, demon deal for powers, going to hell witch. Justice would eventually be quite the bitch for Heather. “Jenny may be an alcoholic, moronic slut, but I think she’s been humiliated enough for one night.”

“She did have a twice-weekly afternoon delight going with Heather’s boyfriend for nearly a year,” he pointed out. “Not that I approve of what the witch is doing, I just thought I’d mention that.”

“Nearly a year?”

“Yup. Every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Damn.” She chewed at her lower lip. “How many people do you think she’s confessed to?”

“About ten, maybe more. She was here when we got here.”

“Okay. We’ll let this last humiliation finish, then confront Heather.”

“You sure you want to confront her?”

“Why not?”

“She’s a witch?”

“Yeah, but it’s Heather. If she never hexed me in high school after everything, why would she start now? We were total enemies back then. She had all the time in the world to hex me and didn’t.”

“Maybe the witch part didn’t happen until later.”

She thought of all the times Heather had miraculously beat out other kids for awards and things and how she’d never studied, yet was valedictorian, and how she’d suddenly become a swan instead of duckling in junior high. “No, she’s been one for years now, I’m sure of it.” Not to mention all her talk tonight about trying the punch and how it was an old family recipe.

“What if she goes all witchy on you?”

“I’ll punch her. The sight of her own blood has always freaked her out. It’ll stop her dead.”

“Oh, well, at least you have a plan.”

Going to Heather, she tapped her on the shoulder while she was still making gestures. Heather turned and, even though it didn’t look like she was going to start anything witchy, Jo gave her a punch just in case, feeling great satisfaction in seeing her reel back against the wall. “I knew it,” Jo said as Heather pushed off from the wall and touched her fingers to her nose. “I knew you were a freakin’ witch, you witch.” She jabbed a finger at her.

Heather wiped the blood away and gagged at the sight of it. “How did you know?”

“Try the punch? Family recipe? Really? Little gestures, Jenny totally spilling secrets like usual, but not having any control over it? Come on, Heather. Did you coordinate this reunion just to play little games with people? How many others are you working on right now?”

“The punch isn’t a spell. It’s Wyler’s fruit punch, mixed berries, 7-up, and a splash of Jack Daniels. My mom used to make it on New Year’s Eve, only she used like most of a bottle of Jack in hers.” She shrugged. “So what if I’m a witch? Why do you care? It’s my life. As for Jenny, she was supposed to be my best friend.” Her glance slid to Dean and back to Jo. “Not that it’s any of your business or anything, but Mike and I were engaged, okay? Then she decided she had to have him like she always did and I snapped. Can you blame me? She stole boyfriends in high school and when I finally find the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with, she seduces him when he’s drunk and blackmails him into keeping it going.”

“Blackmailed?” No, this wasn’t how this was supposed to be going. She wasn’t supposed to be feeling sorry for Heather. She wasn’t supposed to be suddenly thinking that maybe Jenny was sort of getting what she deserved.

“Yeah. Total ‘I’ll tell Heather if you break it off’ sort of thing. He broke down and confessed about a week ago and because I’m a little pissed, I thought what better revenge than to expose her to everyone for what she is: a drunk tramp.” Her small smile was pleased. “She’s been singing like a bird for three days now and I’m going to continue it until I feel she’s humiliated herself as much as I’ve been hurt.”

“What you’re doing is wrong.”

“Oh, please, Jo.” Her lips twisted in a scornful smirk. “Like you wouldn’t have done something similar? I remember you from high school. You kicked Tommy Hinshaw into soprano range because he copped a feel and tried to get his hand down your jeans.”

“That was totally different. I didn’t spend days kicking him. I kicked him once and got my point across.”

“You think he wasn’t humiliated? He had to go to the hospital. The guys on the team weren’t easy on him for that.” She looked around the room, made a few gestures and whispered something under her breath.

An increasingly bewildered looking Jenny started loudly telling a group of three people that she’d been boffing Heather’s fiancée for a year and felt no regret about it at all.

“Put yourself in my shoes here. The fact that I’m a witch means I can do something about it. Do you really think Jenny is going to mess with me again? Or go after another soon to be married man? Maybe she’ll stop going after other women’s men completely. I’m doing a public service here.”

“Hypocrite,” Jo spat, remembering how warmly Heather had looked at Dean earlier.

“How?”

“You were eyeing my husband not half an hour ago.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I’m engaged, Jo. I’m not dead. Honestly, your husband is easy on the eyes.”

“You were scowling at us while we were dancing.”

“No,” she crossed her arms, “I was scowling at that bitch hitting on Ty Jacobs. He’s married with five kids. She can’t pull that shit with a guy who has five kids.”

“You can’t do this.”

“Watch me, Harvelle.” She glanced at Dean. “I mean Winchester.”

“I’ll stop you.”

“You and what army? I make a few gestures and she starts stripping, too.”

She held up her fists. “This army. You want another pop, witch? Still not good seeing your own blood, are you?”

Their argument began to get a little heated.

~~~~~~~~~~

Was it wrong to snicker at the punishment Heather had seen fit to give Jenny? The fact that she was a witch skeeved him out, but that punishment? Well-thought out and suited to the person according to what Jo and Heather were saying. He paid their argument only half attention, keeping an eye on the room.

The door opened and Dean glanced at it. A familiar form stepped inside the room. “Sam?” Dean squinted. That was indeed Sam just inside the doorway, giving directions to Sophie and…. “The Trickster? What the hell are they doing here?”

The Trickster walked to the wall and pulled the fire alarm. Nothing happened.

Jo gestured at it with her beer. She and Heather seemed to have reached an impasse in their argument over whether or not it was morally right for Heather to use her witchcraft to humiliate Jenny and were both pretending the other didn’t exist. “I could’ve told them not to do that. It never worked, even after Heather’s daddy bought the building. I should know. I tried pulling it out of boredom a ton of times.”

“Always the troublemaker,” Heather snorted. “God, it’s a wonder you’re not in prison.” She wasn’t happy at being told she was wrong, yet Jo had been right. Heather showed no inclination towards hexing her or anything.

He strode across the floor to meet Sam, Jo and Heather right behind him. “Sam? What’re you doing here?”

“Dean, we’ve got to get these people out of here, like now, and what do you mean what am I doing here? Why don’t you have this place evacuated already?”

“I mean, what’re you doing here. Why is he here?”

The Trickster stepped over. “Oh, you didn’t tell him. Smart move.” He made a circle with thumb and forefinger and held it up.

“Teddy can help. Didn’t you get my messages? I’ve called like twenty times.”

“Teddy? You gave the monster a name? Are you insane? We don’t give the monsters names. What messages? All I got was one call and a weird message that was all hisses.”

“I’ve always had a name,” Teddy the Trickster said with a smirk. “You just never bothered to ask it.”

He pointed at him. “De-juiced monsters don’t talk.”

“Monster,” Heather asked. Her nose and upper lip looked red and slightly swollen. “Did he just say monster?”

“Oh, you really didn’t discuss your plan, did you?” Teddy crossed his arms, looking insufferably pleased and arrogant.

“Tell me what, Sam? What’s he talking about?”

Jenny Mayweather wandered over.

Sophie came forward, a large bag in her hands. “The soul stealer is on his way here to take you and Jo. He plans to make a public spectacle, which means he’s going to kill everyone here.”

“What’s a soul stealer?” Heather kept asking questions though no one was paying any attention to her now. “Why is it coming here?”

“How did he find us here? Did he follow us?”

“He already knew about the reunion.” Sophie crouched down and unzipped the bag she carried. “Where do you want to set this up, Sam?”

“Clear off the end of the table over there.” He pointed at the refreshment table. “I can’t believe we beat him here. I thought he’d already be here.”

Jenny Mayweather began to laugh. It had a hysterical ring to it, that laugh ending in sobs. “I’m sorry, Jo. I’m so sorry. Mick said…. He….”

They all turned to face her, even Heather, who made a few more gestures Dean was starting recognize as the spell for Jenny to tell the truth.

“You know Mick,” he asked, brows raising. “How do you know Mick, Jenny?”

“You have to understand. I was in college. I was into some pretty weird things and he got me out of them. I owed him big time. He came to me and said you were possessed and I could help you. I know how dangerous a possessed person is. I was one once. He wanted to know if I’d seen you and I told him about the reunion, that you’d sent back your RSVP.” She sniffled. “But you’re not possessed. I can see that. You’re the same Jo I knew….”

Jo’s hands curled into fists. “You told him about the reunion?”

“Yes?” Her voice sounded tiny. “I told him you lived in that town in South Dakota, but I didn’t have your address, just a box number. I told him all about what you put on your sheet --”

“You dumb, drunk slut! Mick’s the one who’s possessed and now he has all the information on me and my family!”

He didn’t have their address, but he had a ton of other things. A chill slid over Dean. This had to end now.

“I know that now!” She stepped back, tripped over Sophie and landed hard on her back. There was a crash and Sophie shoved Jenny off the bag.

“Damn it. She broke the jar of holy water.” She touched a hand to the inside of the bag and held it up.

Sam shook his head. “We don’t have time for this. We need to get people out of here and get the spell set up. Sophie, Teddy, and Jo, try to get some of these people out of here. Dean, help me?”

“Spell?” Heather raised her hands, waving them about. “Are you witches, too?”

“No,” Sam said, Dean a moment after, and Jo and Sophie mostly in unison.

“Difference between what we do and what you do?” Dean helped begin laying items out. “We don’t hurt people. We do what we do to get rid of the evil uglies in the world like the one headed right for us. Any spells we do are for that purpose. He eyed Jenny, gestured at her. “I think what you’re doing to Jenny is disgusting. Release her and let her go sleep it off somewhere. I guarantee she’ll be plenty humiliated tomorrow when she sobers up.” He turned his attention to Sam and indicated Jo’s bag. “We’ve got provisions, too. Jo brought a bunch of things.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heather make a final set of gestures and then Jenny was rushing across the gym and into one hallway. “Done. What can I do to help?”

“Help get people out of here before he gets here.”

Heather set off across the room.

Sam set the bag on the floor. It still had something else in it, something heavy that Dean hadn’t been able to see before Sam moved the fabric. “We need holy water. There a church nearby?”

Dean reached for the punch bowl and set it beside him.

“What’s this?” He gestured at it.

“Holy water, Wyler’s fruit punch, 7-up, Jack Daniels, and mashed berries.” Dean nodded. “My wife is paranoid, okay? She gets an invitation to her high school reunion and automatically assumes it’s an evil trap to kill her. She poured your entire flask of holy water into the punch.”

“She’s sort of right in a roundabout way.”

“Yeah. Helluva gut instinct on her.”

Sam ladled some of it into a bowl. “Holy punch it is.”

Getting people to leave wasn’t working. Most were already drunk enough they didn’t care what was going on, continuing to dance and talk, ignoring the hunters trying to get them to leave.

Jo managed to get several people out and returned to the table, crossing her arms. “See? I told you we had to be prepared.”

“I’ll never laugh at your need to be prepared ever again,” Dean promised.

“Yeah you will.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Didn’t I tell you this place was hell’s armpit?”

“That you did.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The soul stealer strolled down the street, taking his time reaching the building. With Mick’s mind open, he’d been pleased to discover a link to the Harvelle heir and a way to exploit that link. Now, he’d reap the benefits and take care of two of the heirs. Then, there’d be only two remaining.

Sam and the child, Jack.

He jammed the outer doors, caught a few people in the parking lot as a warm-up snack, and headed into the building. Inside, he was pleased to note his job was quite a bit easier. Sam Winchester was present as well, and he’d even brought Sophie.

With a roar, he began his attack.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was hardly going the way Dean had hoped it would.

Teddy was lifted and thrown down, a table smashing beneath him. He went still and Sophie started towards the creature, trying to use the iron rod from Jo’s bag like a knife. It’s flesh sizzled at the contact, the first real weakness they’d seen. Dean was glad for the reminder that he could be hurt because nothing was working.

The spell to immobilize him wasn’t doing squat and the spell to imprison him wasn’t working. Sam’s careful changes had done nothing and it was obvious that whatever Aaron had done couldn’t be circumvented. They tried five different versions of the immobilizing spell to no use. None of the tries did anything.

He felt panic rising inside him and saw the same panic on Sam and Jo’s faces. They were screwed. He had the sick realization that this could very well be their last stand.

The creature swung at Sophie, punching her. She stumbled and fell, her head hitting the floor, dazing her. Rolling over onto her hands and knees, she crawled weakly back towards the refreshment table.

Dean drew his gun. Jo and Sam did the same. “Let’s make this count and wound the son of a bitch as much as we can.” He and Sam moved around the table, Jo behind them. He, then Sam, took shots until they reached Sophie and Jo could help her to her feet and back to the table.

He started to follow and found himself grabbed before he could take two steps, his throat in the soul stealer’s tight grip.

He couldn’t look away, staring into it’s eyes, as defiant as he’d ever been, determined not to let the bastard inside. He’d lost himself in hell and there was no way he was going to lose himself, his soul, ever again. “You can’t hurt me,” he gasped out, and for a second, he expected to feel his soul ripping away.

Surprise rippled across Mick’s face. “Impossible. Only a few people have ever had the will to resist me.” He growled, baring teeth that were now sharp, jagged edges. His fist snapped forward, sending Dean stumbling and falling where Teddy was starting to come to. Dean fell on the jumble of chairs and broken table, that spot on his lower back that never seemed to heal right anymore protesting. He cried out. An arc of pain slid from back to shoulders and he forced himself to push through it and get up, returning to the table where the tools were.

Jo was trying to get Heather to help revise the binding using her witch knowledge, but the woman refused, shaking her head and ducking down behind a table like it’d save her somehow. Apparently her willingness to help only went so far.

Sam reached Teddy, getting him to his feet. The two set about trying to herd people at least into the hallways so they weren’t sitting ducks in the large room. There was too much panic and the soul stealer was too fast, snatching people away and tossing them aside as fast as Sam and Teddy convinced them to go a different way than the crowd. The creature wasn’t savoring them at all, but rather looked like he was wolfing down the appetizer to get to the main course: them.

Dean felt like they were drowning.

Nothing was working. Little was hurting him save the iron and what could they do with it? His thoughts churned furiously to come up with a plan. He had nothing and it didn’t appear Sam or anyone else had a plan either.

Suddenly, he was gone. The attacks ended. Sam cut the power to the music and in the lull, Dean went to the center of the room to assess, leaving Jo to keep Heather calm. His gut was screaming not to go, that something horrible was going to happen. “Where did he go,” he muttered. “What’s he up to?” He turned…and saw the soul stealer hanging on the damn wall like a monkey over Jo.

He couldn’t get to her in time. “No! Jo!”

She was tossed against the wall, the creature reaching for Heather. He heard a sickening crunch as Jo landed. Dean hurried to her, knelt by her side and pulled her up into his arms. She looked up at him, face a mask of pain and regret.

They were never going to see their son grow up, never meet Sam and Gwen’s baby, and never grow older together. He nodded, acknowledging the truth of that to her. It was their life and they’d both known it could end like this.

Tears slipped from her eyes.

They were all going to die here.

He took a deep breath. At least they were all going out together the way they should be: fighting.

Dean showed her his gun in silent question. Did she want him to use his last bullet to put her from the creature’s reach and save her soul?

Jo raised a shaking hand, pointing at Mick. “Hit the bastard.”

That was his Jo, his wife. Fight to the end. She didn’t take the easy way out. Never had and wouldn’t even now.

Dean aimed at Mick’s head, though it wouldn’t do any good. Their deaths weren’t going to be easy or painless. Instinctively, he knew the creature planned to torture them all. No matter. They’d go down swinging and keep on swinging until their last drops of blood had been shed.

It was, after all, the Winchester way.

~~~~~~~~~~

If Balthazar had tried to tell him that Death had a vendetta towards the Winchesters and their mates, Castiel wouldn’t have quite believed him because Death was one of very few beings who didn’t resort to petty actions. Death’s sole concern was with balance and order, everything he did or sanctioned working towards that goal. Sure, the Winchesters annoyed him on several levels, but he wouldn’t go gunning for them unless it was part of keeping that balance and order he strove to maintain.

The news that a Fate was involved ramped up Castiel’s feelings to a clear panic. If the Fates were assisting Death, anything could happen. Death could very well have the Winchesters in his sights.

He held on to the idea that free will could trump it all. Free will had stopped the apocalypse. Sam and Dean weren’t likely to roll over and let themselves be killed. They’d stopped such plans many times before.

Yet without the information in that journal, they most likely would be killed.

Castiel was already on his way to the Winchester house to retrieve the journal when the summons from Gwen came. He put on a burst of speed, arriving just as Abigael did.

In a dizzying whirl of words, he found himself holding Jack, deputized by Abigael so to speak, in charge of his care if she didn’t return. The sick sensation in the pit of his stomach increased and he took the crying child to Ellen, waiting there with her, unable to answer her questions and unable to leave the child unprotected.

Once again, he was on the sideline and unable to act -- unless he abandoned Jack, and he knew Dean would want him to keep Jack safe.

Castiel swallowed his urge to follow Abigael and Gwen and played the waiting game.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Castiel, I need you now!” Even as she cried out, Gwen was moving, packing the items they’d need when she arrived. Her list of items was a little different than that list Sam had worked from.

The ceiling light in the kitchen exploded as two angels appeared in the living room.

Jack began to cry and Gwen picked him up, turning to Abigael. “Good, you’re here, too. I need you to take him to Ellen and protect him. Castiel, get me to the reunion --”

“No.” Abigael moved forward. “Cas, you can’t.”

“Why not?” He began to stretch his hand out to her, but Abigael grabbed it.

“Gwen’s pregnant. You can’t take her there. You’re not the guardian of the child inside her. You have to take Jack to Ellen, keep watch over him in my stead.”

“But --”

“I have to remain with Gwen. She’ll be the one in immediate danger. Stay with Jack until this is done. I pass that job temporarily to you. Don’t leave him unprotected. It’s critical he have an angel over him until the creature is put away. If this fails, you could be protecting him a very long time.”

“I don’t care who does it, just get me there!” Gwen was feeling antsy, like maybe she was already too late.

Abigael turned to her. “Understand first that I can only protect you and the child in you. The others are fair game. I can’t intervene for them if something happens. None of us can. You’re the only one protected in any way.”

“I understand.”

“I hope so. You realize you could already be the sole survivor?”

“Yes.” She felt like she was going to throw-up at that.

“If that’s the case --”

“I know. Collect some of their blood and do the ritual immediately.” She handed Jack to Castiel and shouldered the bag she’d put supplies in.

“Can you do this if they’re dead, Gwen? Can you turn off your emotions to get it done?”

Could she? Could she harvest their blood and finish this while looking at evidence that her friends, family, and husband were gone forever? “I have to. Not doing it isn’t an option, is it?”

Castiel was silent, the worry clear on his face. He held Jack easily and she wondered if part of his ease was his vessel’s muscle memory on how to hold a child. He rubbed Jack’s back in a comforting gesture. The boy hiccupped and shoved a fist into his mouth.

“I’m ready.”

A firm hand touched her shoulder and the sight of Castiel holding Jack winked out, replaced quickly by an old school building.