Title: Nothing and Everything

Part Two: Retribution

Chapter 43

~~~~~~~~~~

This was the suckiest reunion ever.

That refrain kept going through Jo’s mind as they tried to take down the soul stealer. She’d known she’d regret coming to this stupid thing.

Dean was grabbed and for some reason tossed aside. Saving him for later maybe? Jo shook her head to clear that morbid thought. “Come on, Heather,” she coaxed, when what she really wanted to do was punch her again. “Give me something, anything. This is your specialty, remember? Witchy sort of things.”

Heather was terrified, genuinely so. She’d never been a good enough actress to pull off such convincing terror. It seemed unbelievable to Jo that Heather could deal with a demon for powers, yet be so completely terrified by the soul stealer. “No!”

“Heather,” Jo hissed. “You’re a friggin’ witch! Toss something at him!”

“You don’t understand! I can’t! I don’t know any spells to deal with things like that! I never even learned how to make up my own! I’ve been using other people’s books!” She tightened her arms about her legs, pressing her face to her knees and crying.

What sort of spells did she know then? Stupid little things like she’d done to Jenny? If so, she was a pretty pathetic witch. Didn’t that just figure? The witch Jo knew personally wasn’t even a very good one.

The soul stealer advanced on Heather’s position, reaching to pull away the table she was hiding behind and Jo shook her head. “Damn it.” She got to her feet and raised her gun, firing at Mick’s head and chest, driving him away from Heather. He retreated with roars of pain and rage, resuming his attacks on their classmates, but she was able to reach Heather and drag her back to where she and Sophie were.

They’d gotten a few people out, but a large number of Jo’s former classmates lay still on the floor of the old gym, either unconscious or dead, their souls gone. She’d seen triumph on the creature’s face with each person tossed aside.

This certainly wasn’t helping her issues with high school.

Dean reached the table and crouched down behind it, digging in Jo’s bag and tossing aside things they already knew didn’t work. In frustration, he pushed the bag away.

Jo shoved Heather down beside Dean, who now cocked a brow and said in a pleasant tone, “You know you’re going to hell, right?” The tone belied the panic in his eyes, a panic Jo was feeling herself. No way this was ending well.

Heather frowned. Her makeup was smudged and Jo felt a glimmer of righteous justice at finally seeing Heather with her makeup smeared and raccoon eyes. It had been a long time coming. “Are you…witnessing to me?”

“Nope. Stating a fact. You made a pact with a demon for some powers -- piss poor ones, I might add -- and the usual deal is your soul when you finally die. You’re in for a hot time and I don’t mean sexy. Give you awhile in the pit and you’ll become a demon down there, just like the hellspawn you dealt with.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re just saying that. Hell isn’t real.”

“Right. Neither are demons or the creature smorgasbording your classmates.”

“Speaking of him, Dean….” Jo eased up to a standing position. “Where did he go?”

The flickering lights lent an eerie gloom. Silence fell on the room as Sam cut the power to the music. Jo saw Sam and Teddy walk the room, Dean and Sophie meeting them, searching for Mick in the gloom. Where was he? Where had he gone?

That silence felt weighted.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she turned, ready to fire even as Dean yelled her name and started back towards her.

She was lifted and tossed to the wall like a rag doll. Her gun went flying and she felt something in her arm snap on impact, searing pain sliding from her shoulder to her fingers. She saw something white sticking out of her arm…. The pain made her stomach roll with nausea.

Mick dragged Heather to her feet and grasped her by the throat, preparing to eat her soul. She twisted in his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Dean knelt beside Jo, holding her close against him. She knew that their time was coming, but they were hunters and they’d fight to the end, holding on as long as they could in hopes that they could either finish what they’d started or that someone somewhere would be able to finish it for them. He took the shot, the bullet hitting Mick square in the forehead, throwing him back and making him release Heather, who scrambled over to where they were and put them between her and the creature.

Sam, meanwhile, had dragged the bag he’d brought from beneath the table and was taking out a box and a hammer. Jo thought she recognized that box.

She cradled her arm, teeth clenched in an effort to keep from screaming from the pain.

The soul stealer headed for Sophie, Teddy getting in his way. He grabbed the Trickster by the throat with both hands, choking him. The few little tricks Teddy was capable of weren’t helping him escape the creature and he thrashed in that grip, movements increasingly sluggish.

Several of the already flickering lights blew out in a shower of sparks and the outer doors opened with a bang.

Gwen and Abigael were silhouetted for just a moment, the wide spread of Abigael’s wings clear behind them, and then Abigael raised what looked like a sword that burst into flame, illuminating the entire room.

They started forward.

~~~~~~~~~~

He was winning. Had there ever been any doubt as to the outcome of this party?

The soul stealer grinned as he choked the blond man, delighting in the feel of him thrashing and the sound of him struggling to draw in breath. It was down to the last of them now, a few inconsequential people and the heirs. He was almost ready to start in on them. Maybe he’d even save Sophie for last as a present to Mick. The man could watch as the creature finished off her soul and broke her body.

A giddy glee began to course through him. He was going to be free forever, able to drink any soul he chose without fear of being imprisoned. It had been so long since he’d been free and he could practically taste freedom.

The bang of the door alerted him to latecomers to the party and he turned his head, that grin fading away as he recognized one of the two women there.

Impossible.

He shook his head in denial of what he was seeing.

No. The Bennett heir was dead. He’d watched her die.

He dropped the man in his grip, studying the winged creature beside Gwen.

For the first time in a very long time, the soul stealer felt real fear. He knew exactly what that winged creature was. She was an angel. He hadn’t seen an angel in centuries and to see one with the woman he’d thought he’d killed months ago meant something he didn’t want to contemplate.

Had the angel raised her? Brought her here?

No. No way was he going to be imprisoned again and not by her. Not by Aaron Bennett’s daughter.

He started across the floor towards her and the angel, determined to rip both of them apart. He may not be able to drink the soul of the angel’s vessel, but he could certainly do some damage.

~~~~~~~~~~

A part of Sam had prayed that this wouldn’t go south, that he could do this without Aaron’s changes, and he was devastated that he’d been so wrong. Usually they were good at making things up, at not sticking to the script, and doing the unexpected.

He dragged the bag out from under the table as fast as he could.

Didn’t it just figure that this would be the one time they had to use the script?

It was time to move on to plan B: use a full-powered Teddy as a diversion and get the hell out of Dodge. They’d have to regroup and try to fight another day. He hadn’t told Teddy about plan B, nor had he shared it with Sophie or anyone. Plan B was a last resort and he was confident that Teddy could keep the creature confused long enough for them to escape and for Teddy himself to escape.

Abigael and Gwen’s sudden appearance made him pause for the briefest of seconds and he drank in the sight of Gwen, ninety percent afraid this would be his last glimpse of her. She was holding papers in one hand and had a bag with her. Had she found something that could help? He hoped that was why she’d come and glanced at Dean.

Dean had seen the box, recognized it, and divined what Sam intended, his eyes widening and he yelled, “Sam, no! Don’t you do it!” He lifted Jo, carrying her to the table.

The soul stealer let go of Teddy, striding towards Gwen and Abigael.

“We need the distraction,” he yelled back and, with a quick prayer that he was doing the right thing, he dragged the Trickster power containment box close. “Teddy!”

Teddy looked over at him, defeat on his face. With only partial powers, he was unable to fully heal the wounds he’d been dealt thus far over the night. He could very well be dying.

Sam swung the hammer, making cracks in the box, continuing to hit it until a ribbon of white broke free, shooting to the Trickster. For a second, his entire body glowed white and then he was gone.

“Distraction, huh?” Dean snorted. “He bugged out and left us.” He gently set Jo down by the wall.

The woman with smeared makeup and the name Sam hadn’t caught sat beside Jo and began talking to her and smoothing her hair.

Dean’s fear was a fear Sam also held, until he saw two of Teddy appear and begin taunting the creature, saying something about beloved children and payback being a bitch. He abandoned the ruined box and met Gwen and Abigael at the table.

~~~~~~~~~~

The outer doors were all blocked with cars.

Abigael pulled a sword from beneath her coat and it occurred to Gwen that she hadn’t seen Abigael wear a long coat since she’d graduated from Castiel’s program. The coat had covered wherever she’d had the sword hidden, like she’d been waiting for Gwen to call. Maybe she had. It wouldn’t surprise her anymore. Abigael cleared her throat. “Smart way to keep humans out.”

“You’re not human.”

“No. I believe they’re in the gym. Follow me.” Abigael approached the doors at the gym section of the building and raised a hand. The mess parted, the doors blowing open.

For the barest part of a second, before she stepped into the building, Gwen thought she saw a woman standing to one side holding a book and watching them.

The gym was torn apart. There were streamers on the floor and the contents of a woman’s purse by the door. One table remained standing. The rest were smashed, chairs thrown about, and there were far too many bodies for Gwen’s comfort. It looked like Jo’s reunion wasn’t a success. That was definitely going to add to her issues with high school. In a sweeping glance, she saw Sam hit something and a familiar ribbon of white streak across the room.

In her mind’s eye, she remembered dying in that car, a slim mist of that same white stuff moving towards her.

She saw Jo, in Dean’s arms, and she saw that there was a chance she was in time to end this.

Gwen headed straight for the table, smoothing out the pages she’d copied and setting the bag on the table. She was relieved to see them alive and somewhat holding their own. Gwen assessed Jo in a second, wincing, but not moving to tend to her. There was no time until he was dealt with and Gwen didn’t think she could doctor Jo’s arm this time anyway, not with bone sticking out. Jo needed professional care.

Sam and Dean met her.

She went straight into the explanation of where they were wrong. “First off, the conjugation of the verb is wrong here and here.” She spread out the papers in her hand and pointed. “It’s all wrong.”

“Enochian has conjugations? Seriously?” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that’s a verb?”

“I know. I know, it surprised me, too. The original form was different. Aaron changed it for the Trickster, see? You can’t use the Trickster version. It has to be the original.” She pointed to the papers. “You need the original and….” She licked her lips. “He added a demonic version of blood magic. That’s what those last words you couldn’t figure out were. Demonic language. You need blood from the four of us. You, me, Sam, and Jo. Before it didn’t have to be the bloodlines that did this, but what Aaron did changed that. It not only bound the soul stealer tighter, it also bound us to him. Our family will always have to be the ones to do this from now on.”

“He complicated it?” She heard outrage in Sam’s tone and fully sympathized.

“Hurry,” Abigael sing-songed. Heat emanated from the flaming sword, but Gwen was the only one that didn’t seem to be sweating from it. She didn’t feel heat at all while sweat was beginning to drip down everyone else. “Ted is a match, but won’t be for long. He’s already anticipating Ted’s moves and I believe he’s identified Ted’s avatar.”

Gwen shrugged. “He thought he was improving it, making it stronger.”

“Demonic blood magic never does that. It’s not meant for human use.” Sam slid a finger down the text as he read. “Dean, hand me the holy punch again.”

“Holy punch?” Gwen frowned.

“Jo’s doing,” Sam and Dean answered together.

“Oh. So that’s why she borrowed your flask.” She should’ve figured.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing Gwen with Abigael brought hope back to Dean. Maybe today wasn’t the day they died.

Jo was cradling her arm, oblivious now to all but the pain. It was a bad break, he’d seen that in a second. Heather was beside her, obviously having decided they were allies and friends because Jo had tried to save her. Fickle witch. She was keeping Jo calm though, keeping her mind off the break as much as possible. He left Jo with Heather and went to help Gwen with whatever she had in mind. Wasn’t like she could make things worse, was it?

At the moment, he’d like to raise Aaron from the dead and kill him for rearranging the entire ritual. Demonic blood magic? Had the man been nuts? “She knew something would happen. Jo did.”

“Yeah, we don’t just claim things like that for our own amusement, guys. Might want to start listening.” Gwen handed him the corrected paper and took a vial and needle over to Jo. She collected blood from each of them, quick and efficient in the task, and mingled it all in a small glass bowl.

“I said hurry, not chitchat,” Abigael interjected. Teddy’s avatar disappeared with an agonized cry and Abigael strode forward to meet the creature, blocking the way with her sword. Fire licked along the edge of the blade. “You can’t have her. I won’t let you.”

He didn’t seem concerned about the fire, stepping close enough that he should be able to feel the heat from it. “Maybe not today, but some day I will have the children. Maybe not this child, or the one in Sioux Falls, but some descendant, some day. They’ll be mine and I’ll be free forever.”

“I protect them all. All you’ll find is me.”

“So cocky, angel. Why so certain you’ll win?”

“Why so certain we won’t,” she countered.

The two began to pace back and forth, each looking for an opening to being their tangle.

Gwen handed Sam the rosemary and Dean almost laughed when she asked where the bone of a lesser saint was. Jo was right. They always needed those things.

He swept a glance around the room. Teddy was using his regenerated avatar to shield the remaining classmates that were obviously alive. Or maybe it was Teddy himself. Whichever, the other Teddy had returned to the area near the table along with Sophie. They held legs ripped from the broken tables in their hands and looked ready for round one hundred and twenty seven.

A small bit of respect for Teddy began to grow inside him. Monster or not, he was fighting hard tonight.

The creature rushed at Abigael, trying to get past her to the table. Where she wasn’t, Teddy and Sophie were, driving him back, keeping him away.

Sam used a different section of table to redraw the symbols, making the corrections Gwen indicated while Dean double checked that they had everything. In minutes, they were ready to try again.

Gwen handed him the paper. “Do the honor, Dean.”

Dean yelled the binding words, the first set that should immobilize him. This time, with the correction Gwen had brought, it worked. Like it had with the Trickster, ropes of light ensnared the soul stealer. “That’s for my wife, you bastard.”

Abigael lowered her sword and stood ready, waiting should she be needed.

Dipping her fingers in the mixed blood, Gwen moved to the immobile creature. “This is for trying to kill me, for killing my grandparents, and for trying to kill my family.” She touched his forehead, then the box.

He howled and raged, struggling to break free.

Dean passed the paper to Sam. “Finish it.”

With the words Gwen had brought spoken, the soul stealer was forced out of Mick’s body and into the box. He screamed the entire time, a tortured yet irate sound. Dean knew he’d be hearing it in dreams for months to come. The symbols etched on the wood glowed red and neon-bright for long seconds before fading into slim dark lines. Mick dropped to the floor.

It was done and Dean felt very old and very tired. Exhausted. Once more, they’d saved the world and like always, no one would ever know to thank them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Months earlier, Castiel had asked Death what he’d seen and how Gwen had become useful. Lachesis had overheard the exchange. It wasn’t that she’d been eavesdropping, because she hadn’t. She’d simply been there when the conversation had occurred.

She watched the ritual Aaron Bennett had created with his changes and silently answered those questions.

This was what Death had seen. He’d seen what was needed to end the creature’s rampage and amended his plans because of it. He’d let Gwen live. He’d actually given them a fighting chance with that one action.

If Death had truly wanted the Winchesters -- all of them -- out of the way, all he’d had to do was take Gwen from them and then…dominoes. They would have fallen. Gwen had been slated to die that night.

But he’d needed them. He’d seen what Aaron had done and known he needed all of them.

He’d even furthered that fighting chance by persuading Castiel to assist, though she doubted Castiel or the Winchesters would see it that way. Castiel’s help hadn’t been needed. The Fates could have tended to each piece and usually did. The truth of the matter was, Castiel irritated Death as much as the Winchesters. More, possibly, since he was actually in the heavenly realm where Death was much of the time. He consistently displayed human choices and free will, not to mention he had God’s favor. Castiel had mucked up balance and order all on his own a few times.

All of that stuck in Death’s craw.

So he’d deliberately shown Castiel enough information to persuade him and thereby keep him out of the way running to and fro. No telling quite how this would have gone with both him and the Winchesters working together. Put them together and it was a crap shoot. The pendulum could’ve swung either way and this could’ve ended in real disaster.

It was over now. Castiel could go back to his job overseeing the Guardians. Lachesis tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Of course she knew him well enough to realize that quite soon, he’d once more get on Death’s bad side, but she thought Castiel was wiser now. He was going to look at this and see it for what it had been. He was going to understand and learn from it.

Poor angel. He’d had such a terrible period of growing pains recently.

He wasn’t the only one.

Atropos appeared. She looked like she’d been through a battle of her own. In a way, she had. Her hair was mussed and clothes wrinkled. She approached, manner mildly confused. “I thought they were to die tonight. All of them.”

“To be fair, sister, Clotho and I were ordered to withhold a piece of information from you.”

“Death?”

“No. God. He is still our ultimate boss, above our working relationship with Death.”

“He’s returned?”

“The groundwork is being laid.” She touched Atropos’ cheek. “How was your date?”

“You know how it was.”

It had gone very well until Atropos had confessed her part in Aaron’s death. She’d let herself be vulnerable and experience life, a thing both Clotho and Lachesis had been through. Their own existence was a sort of cycle in a way. Clotho was what Lachesis and Atropos would become and Atropos and Lachesis were what Clotho once had been. They were three aspects of life: the young, focused beginning, the mellow, confident middle, and the wise end.

Atropos had hit a growing marker, just like Castiel, and she was all the more pensive for it.

“Will you see him again?”

She took her book from Lachesis, tucked it against her clipboard. “I don’t know. He was angry.”

“Anger fades.”

“He was scornful.”

“Scorn, too, fades.”

“He said harsh things.”

“So do we all.” She was giving excuses, not expressing concerns.

“He rushed out after Castiel.”

“Understandable given the information you weren’t privy to.”

“I don’t like being kept out of the loop. I don’t like being off-kilter, Lachesis.” Her voice was cross and she looked almost fearful. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“I know. Neither do they. If he wants to see you again, will you go?” This was the true growth moment. Would Atropos risk herself to make something with Balthazar, something that would likely end badly? Or would she play it safe and retreat?

Atropos frowned, considering the question carefully. She held the book and board tight to her, arms hugging them to her chest. “Yes. I’ll go.”

Lachesis smiled softly to herself.

The world was changing. It was time. Some monsters were changed, some angels, the Winchesters and now, the Fates themselves. She thought it’d be interesting to see where all this change took them.

Putting her arm about Atropos, she led her away, sliding through the wave of change that crashed about them. It was a new day.

~~~~~~~~~~

With the soul stealer gone, it was obvious Mick’s body was a broken shell. The creature had ridden him as hard as the demons rode their hosts.

Dean stepped around the end of the table.

Sophie dropped the table leg and stood over Mick. She took out her gun, the hand holding it shaking.

Mick stared up at her, his expression calm, the sort of calm that gave Dean the shivers. He recognized that expression. Sam had had it for longer than Dean cared to remember. “I remember that I loved you once,” Mick told her. He coughed, blood trickling from his mouth.

“I loved you, too.” She didn’t tell him he wouldn’t go to heaven or hell, didn’t tell him any of that. She simply raised that hand, steadied it with her other, and shot Mick in the forehead. “Still do.” Tears streamed down her face.

To Dean’s surprise, she didn’t turn the gun on herself. He’d thought she’d eat a bullet within seconds. To his further surprise, Teddy approached her, put an arm around her, and said something in her ear that made her nod and collect herself. Her spine straightened, her shoulders pulled back, and Sophie began to collect the supplies they’d brought. Teddy watched her, then began to approach Gwen.

Sam limped between him and Gwen, shielding her from him. While Sam was scratched, bloody and favoring his left leg, the Trickster was unmarked. Getting his powers back had taken care of his wounds. “You won’t bother us again.”

Teddy leaned slightly to the right to look at Gwen. She was helping Heather with Jo. “You sound sure of that.”

He did sound certain. Dean wondered why. He stepped over to Jo, Heather, and Gwen and reached down to help get Jo to her feet.

“Gwen’s pregnant, Teddy.”

“Hell.” He snorted. “You figured it out. Very good, Sambo.”

“I dug a bit deeper and it was actually Dean’s joking suggestion after you abducted Gwen that got me thinking.”

“What did you figure out, Sam?” Dean eased Jo into a chair. Her arm was as good as they could get it until they got her to the emergency room to have it set. They could set it, but Gwen didn’t think it’d be a good idea. Jo needed a doctor.

“The spark he kept going on about. It’s nothing mystical. It’s nothing really at all.”

“It’s something,” Teddy argued.

“He can only have kids with a woman who’s never had a child before. One woman, one kid.”

“Not to mention I’m very selective.” Teddy’s glance flicked to Sophie and back. “I only choose exceptional women.” He sighed. “What could have been….”

“You won’t bother us,” Sam repeated.

Teddy waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve taken all the fun out of dicking with you anyway. None of you have any sense of humor. I’ve lost interest in all of you.” There looked like something close to respect in his eyes, but Dean through he had to be seeing wrong.

“Don’t cross our path again,” Dean warned.

“You’ve got that backasswards, Dean. Don’t cross mine. I could shove you in a created reality and you’d never know it. In fact, I just might.” In seconds, he was gone.

“Are you freakin’ insane, Sam? Letting him go? Giving him his powers back? That was your plan?”

“He won’t bother us and it was plan B.”

“You’d better be right.”

“I am.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he knows what it’s like now. To be us. To be hunted and still step up and fight.” His jaw squared. “He understands what it’s like on the other side.”

“He’d better freakin’ well understand or we’re screwed. You get that, right?”

Sophie brought two bags forward and set them down. She was as much of a mess as the rest of them. Blood streaked her hair, she had a split lip, a black eye, and bruises dotted her exposed skin. “Everything is packed up. I’m outta here.” She touched Jo on the shoulder, nodded at the rest of them, and left the building.

Dean wondered if they’d ever see her again. She’d done what she’d set out to do: she’d saved Mick, or at least as much as he could be saved. He cleared his throat to get Gwen’s attention. “So, Gwen, if you’re here, who has Jack?”

She dusted off her hands. “Castiel took him to Ellen. Abigael had to come with me. She charged Castiel with protecting him, told him to stay with him and continue to protect him if we didn’t come back. I think she thought we might not make it. She certainly gave Castiel that impression.”

He nodded, understanding why Abigael had come and not Castiel. The baby. She’d protected Gwen because of the baby and now…. Did her ordering Cas to protect Jack mean that Cas was now a guardian? Or was it a temporary thing? He made a mental note to discuss it with her later, not sure how to feel about that possibility.

She was gone now he saw. When had that happened? At what point had she taken off? He couldn’t pinpoint it at all.

Turning, he found a familiar trench-coated figure crouching beside Jo’s chair. Heather had moved off and was checking on classmates. Castiel touched Jo’s arm and looked up at Dean. “The worst is taken care of, but she should still see a doctor for a cast.” Bone no longer stuck out of Jo’s arm.

Jo let out a long breath and shuddered. “Thank you.”

“Thought you weren’t allowed to heal anymore.” While still angry with Cas for keeping things from them, he was glad to see he’d done something to ease Jo’s pain.

Castiel’s gaze fell, then rose again. “No one else has been playing by the rules. I think I can bend that one enough that she’ll retain use of the arm. Do you or Sam need assistance?”

“I don’t.” He did. His back was going to hurt for days from this and he could already feel a cramp starting. He wanted angelic healing, but Dean didn’t ask and cast a glance at Sam. He saw Sam limping and wasn’t sure if Sam would accept aid for whatever was wrong.

“Your back?”

“No.”

“Don’t refuse out of pride, Dean. Take it if you need it.”

“I said I don’t.”

“Fine.” Cas nodded. “I’ll talk to Sam.” He stood. “Jack is fine. When I left, Ellen was reading to him, a story he giggled about, something about a cat and a hat of some kind.”

“His favorite.”

“So I was told.”

He saw Sam refuse healing as well and then Sam and Gwen were leaving, going to the motel to rest. They’d be there after Jo and Dean were done at the hospital. Dean watched Heather. She was crouched over one body and he took a few steps closer to see if he‘d met the person. It was Jenny Mayweather. Jenny hadn’t made it out of the building. Few people had actually made it out of the building he learned. The lucky ones were the ones who’d left earlier or hadn’t even come at all. Out of those former classmates in the room, there were only six left alive and undamaged. Three were hysterical, two were in shock, and then there was Heather.

She stood and approached, glancing at Jo. “Family restaurant tomorrow morning at ten. Please.”

“I won’t guarantee,” he told her.

“I know.” She turned, staring at the litter of bodies. The room itself was destroyed, tables smashed, blood everywhere. “I’ll take care of this. Get Jo to the hospital before the police come.”

“You know what to say?”

Heather raised her chin, smiling a little. “I’m Heather Holt, Dean. Daughter of beloved Artie Holt and town golden child. I’ve got this.”

He led Jo out to the car, barely clearing the lot before a string of police cars pulled in. There was a sense of relief inside him that they’d once more managed to escape the slice of Death’s guillotine. But how long could they keep that up? Some day, they all had to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~

The words ‘only the Winchesters’ took on a new meaning for Castiel as he observed the aftermath of the soul stealer. With a blink, he realized that the phrase no longer meant just Dean and Sam. It hadn’t meant them alone since they’d married. The phrase now included Jo and Gwen, plus the children. It meant a family united and that day months ago when Castiel had talked with Death, it was how Death had meant it.

Slowly, he sat in one folding chair.

Castiel had been thick, not understanding, mired in the familiar use of the plural of the name. Of course Death had known Dean was married and that Sam would soon be married. He’d known both women took the Winchester name and all that went with it. He’d known they left their maiden names behind and became Winchesters upon marriage. He’d seen that Aaron had changed the ritual in a fundamental way that needed all four of them.

Death had known.

Hence his words ‘only the Winchesters’.

He may not like the Winchesters. He may, in fact, despise them, but he’d needed them and used them just like Castiel had accused him of doing. The pieces clicked together like puzzle pieces. It was all there in the open and if he’d read the bits correctly back then, he would’ve known what was going to happen.

But why had Death let them live when he was done with them? He could’ve let something happen to them at the last second and hadn’t. Cas was almost afraid of what that meant for the Winchester family.

On the heels of that came the realization that Death had once more manipulated him out of the way. He scowled.

Was he that much of a problem that he had to be given busywork? He must be if Death purposely kept him out of the way. He’d certainly been a problem for first Zachariah, then Raphael. His scowl lessened. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he decided. It meant, in his opinion, that he and the Winchesters together could accomplish anything, even put Death’s plans awry.

He turned his mind to his relationship with Sam and Dean, recalling the hurt on their faces at Chuck’s house. All of a sudden, he felt tired. He’d lost their trust and knew that neither man really trusted easily. He’d fractured a bond that had been hard won. How could he fix it? Was it even possible?

Glancing over the aftermath once more, he began to plan how to go about rebuilding that damaged bridge between them.