"Thank you," Klotho says when Michael appears beside her on the floor of the Marinas Trench. Michael's grace lights up the deep, so Klotho gazes in wonder at what is revealed.

I haven't long before Samael wonders why I left my vessel behind, Michael says.

Klotho does not look at Michael. To no one else would she speak of this, but Michael, as the eldest, as the Commander of Heaven—"Had Sam Winchester not traveled through the Strands, Leviathan would escape Purgatory."

Michael's surprise buffets her, their grace brightening before Michael recovers control.

She continues, "All of the archangels were weakened so much as to be the least of angels or killed. Death, too, died, and the Darkness released." She turns to watch as one of the magnificent creatures who dwell in the Trench slowly swims by. "Though the Darkness and the Creator were reconciled, the Strands that led to that point were…" Klotho pauses before deciding, "Horrific is the correct word."

That is why Father sent Sam Winchester through time, Michael says. Samael, Heaven—all is well.

Scoffing slightly, Klotho glances at them. "Tell me, Michael, what would it take to weaken the lock imprisoning the Darkness?"

Michael grabs Klotho, hard enough to hurt, but she does not wince nor shy away from all of Michael's eyes. "As you said, Michael," she tells them, "Samael is not the Lucifer I Wove in the Strands. We are on a better way."

Releasing her, Michael backs away. Klotho maintains silence, allowing Michael to think over all that has been reWoven. Finally, Michael murmurs, I shall speak with Samael about the Mark. They pause, gazing towards the abyss of the Trench. And to Raphael and Gabriel.

And they are gone, leaving Klotho alone, to ponder if she should discuss this utterly mad idea with her sisters.

They're on the way to a hunt in Jacksonville when Sam's phone rings with unknown number. Michael had sent him a warning, a quick, gave your number to the eldest Fate note, a couple days ago. Sam had wanted to know why but Michael was cagey, and then Dean decided to get involved and do his big brother thing, pissed off because Michael was just going around giving people a direct line to Sam. Sam didn't even bother trying to head him off because Dean hadn't had a good rant in couple months.

And now, the eldest Fate is calling. Great.

Dean looks over with a raised eyebrow, so Sam answers and puts it on speaker. "Yeah?"

"Sam Winchester," a woman's voice says, low and cool. "I would like to speak with you, face-to-face, but I cannot locate you."

"Yeah, I got that from Michael," Sam replies. "And why does Klotho want to chat?"

"I know the Strands you have undone," Klotho says. "We need to discuss certain… details."

"And that means what, exactly?" Dean demands, jerking the wheel to jump across two lanes for the first exit off the highway. Milly grumbles in the backseat and Daisy shoves her head over the back of Sam's seat.

"Sorry, girls," Dean mutters while Klotho says, "Dean Winchester," sounding amused. "Of course, you will be involved in the discussion. The two of you—you are intimately connected to the Strands, after all."

Sam rolls his eyes. "It's been undone, so what does it matter?"

"From what I saw, I know that you know better," Klotho says. "And what I saw…"

Dean pulls off the road, puts the car in park, and glares at the phone. "Well, don't leave us in suspense, weaver."

"Face-to-face, Sam Winchester," Klotho repeats. "You choose the time, the place. Then call or text this number and I will be there."

They share a glance. Dean obviously doesn't want to meet but Sam's curiosity is piqued. "We'll think about it," he says, ending the call. Daisy pulls back, whuffling softly.

"Sam," Dean begins.

"Dean," Sam interrupts. "D'you want me to have a chat with Michael over angel radio or on speaker?"

Dean doesn't even deign to answer, so Sam snickers and hits Millie's speed dial.

"Sam!" Millie answers cheerfully. "I suppose you want to talk with Michael." A pause and then Michael says, "Hello, Sam, Dean."

"Michael, hey!" Dean says, with fake cheer. "So, that chick you gave Sam's number, she just called. What's that about, huh?"

Michael laughs softly. "I assure you, Dean, what Klotho wishes to discuss with you is important. And that, as things stand now, she presents no danger to either of you."

Dean shakes his head, throwing himself dramatically back against the seat. "Look, can't we just keep on like we have been?" he asks. "It's been good, huntin' and goin' home, no crises or anything, just us and the girls."

It's been good, far better than Sam had imagined after Lucifer's release from the Cage, but even with all four archangels on board with the no-Apocalypse gameplan, he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally, it has.

"Ask Millie about the mythology on the Fates," Sam tells Michael. "How accurate is it?"

Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel and hums the Jeopardy tune while they wait; after about a minute, Michael says, "Not accurate at all, actually."

"What a surprise," Dean snarks. "So, as our only source of intel on these sisters, are they a threat to us?"

"As I said," Michael responds, tone patient, "none of the Moirai will threaten you without first being threatened. They are neutral, Death's first and greatest children, and act only upon and with the Strands."

Before Dean can make a sarcastic comment, Sam says, "Okay. We'll think about talkin' with Klotho. Also, Michael," he adds, "don't give out my number anymore."

"Of course, Sam," Michael is saying as Sam ends the call.

"No," Dean announces. "Nope, not happenin', not a chance."

"Dean," Sam says.

"No," Dean repeats. "We got a good thing goin', and the angels can handle shit now."

"Dean," Sam says again.

Dean turns the key in the ignition. "We have a hunt to finish. We can worry about other shit after it's done."

"Okay, Dean," Sam agrees, smiling.

They deal with the skinwalker pack, seven that panic and scatter the moment they scent the girls; even though it isn't a competition, Dean gets two, Sam gets one, and Milly and Daisy run down and eat the rest. Sam waits until they're almost back to the cabin to say, "Dean, I don't know what's going to happen anymore. I've changed too much."

"Sammy," Dean says, pulling up beside the cabin. He's trained the girls to wait to be let out instead of smoking through Baby, so he opens the back door; they take off into the trees, yipping at each other. Sam, the giant numbskull, is leaning against the car, hands clasped and resting on the roof.

"I really believe I need to talk to Klotho," Sam says, eyes big and sincere. "There's this… pit in my stomach, and it's been, this feeling that something's building somewhere, it's been growing these past couple weeks."

Dean puts his hands in his jacket pockets, rocks back on his heels. "I noticed you've been a little jumpy recently." In fact, if Sam hadn't started acting like he was gonna open up about it sometime in the very near future, Dean had planned on subtly badgering him in the next day or two.

Ain't it funny when ancient Greek gods and annoying archangels get your baby brother to admit what he's hiding.

"I've been wracking my brain, trying to figure out what it could be," Sam says now. "The Strands she mentioned, that sounds familiar, but it's like the echo of an impression, something I know from the Grace. Not like it's actually mine." He hunches down, trying to make himself smaller so that he can gaze up at Dean through bangs he doesn't have, like he's seven years old and being totally convincing that he did not spill that bowl of Lucky Charms on Dean's comic book, no it definitely wasn't him. "I didn't think—" He pauses, lets out a breath. "Dean. What would've happened if that, that whatever it was, God or whatever, hadn't sent me back?"

"It doesn't matter," Dean says. "You did come back. The ninja turtle's the boss upstairs, our grandmas are hosting angels down here, Loki's palling around with the possible Anti-Christ, we haven't seen a demon in months, and none of it is our responsibility!" He only realizes he's shouting when he has to catch his breath.

The girls come tearing back, around the car and up the porch, where they both stop on a dime at the door and sit on their haunches, all prim and proper. Dean has to smile at their dramatic sass (and wonder, again, just how damn smart are they?)

Sam doesn't even say anything. He straightens up and puts the puppy eyes away, but he's still looking at Dean all patiently.

"I just…" Dean sighs, letting his head drop. "If there's something worse than the angels out there, we have to know." He pushes off the car. "C'mon, let's get inside. There's stuff for hamburgers in the freezer."

.

Sam's sprawled in the library when Dean drops onto the floor by where Milly's sacked out. She wakes up enough to stretch across his lap and Dean begins slowly rubbing at her ears.

"Dinner's ready," Dean says. He feels Sam's attention but doesn't look up from Milly. "Think the wards against angels'll work on a Fate?"

"Probably not," Sam admits.

"Yeah, I figured," Dean mutters.

Sam plants his feet on the floor and stands, stretching his arms. "C'mon, let's eat. We should decide where we'll meet Klotho."

Dean pats Milly's shoulder; she whines but rolls off his legs, letting him rise. "I wanna know about this bad feelin' of yours," Dean tells Sam firmly, making sure to catch Sam's gaze. "Thought we didn't hide things anymore."

"Yeah," Sam murmurs. "Okay." He follows Dean to the kitchen, builds his burger, nearly trips over Daisy on his way to the table, and waits until Dean has served himself and taken his seat before beginning.