Disclaimer/Spoilers: See Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, sorry this took so long, things and stuff has been/is going on that I will not bore you with here. So here we are, at the end of all things, the last chapter of Causality. The sum of all it's parts. The end of the line. Please make sure you read and review, let me know what you think, and as always, don't forget to tip your servant on the way out.

Carry on Wayward Son

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say

Dean pressed his thumb against the calloused skin of his right hand, roughly, desperate to feel something more than detached pressure in the appendage. He attempted to curl his fingers but managed a motion that barely qualified as a twitch.

It's only been a few days.

Meg had known what she was doing. The use of metal cable ties; it was cruel for cruelty's sake. Not much pressure was needed for the bindings to cut into skin, and once that barrier was breached, it took even less to start tearing through what little muscle laid beneath.

This sort of thing takes time.

He shifted his gaze from his infuriatingly worthless hand down to the thick gauze encircling his wrists. The damage done there had been extensive, the joints shredded in a way that spoke volumes to how hard he had struggled, to the fruitless fight he had put up. Without angelic intervention, he wasn't sure he'd ever regain full use of his right hand, and that sobering thought scared him more than he'd ever admit, to anyone.

Of course, that help was off the table for the time being, as it seemed the infection lingering in his wounded shoulder was blocking Cas' ability to heal. And to pour salt into that metaphorical wound, it seemed the infection in his system was evolving somehow. It wasn't turning him, but it also wasn't allowing the damage in his shoulder to heal, and that in itself was cause for concern.

Dean sighed and pulled on a long-sleeved button-down, mindful of the dull throb in that skewered shoulder. Last time his little brother left him to go after Lilith, he'd left him in a battered, wheezing heap on the floor. Dean had to admit, his current state wasn't all that different, but at least the persistent pain rocketing through his body wasn't Sam's doing this time.

"Dean?"

"Coming," he called back to Bobby. He wasn't moving at top speed and had left the others waiting for him for too long. He left the room and headed toward the front of the house, only to be stopped short by a familiar man, middle-aged, balding, and blocking his path to the kitchen. Dean stumbled back a step, pain shooting up his left leg as his foot hit the floor with jarring impact.

"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said with an annoyingly condescending smile.

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean stepped to the side, keeping himself out of the angel's reach. He placed a hand on his chest, numb fingers splayed over the Enochian sigils carved into his ribs. "What are these, plot-convenient sigils? How the hell did you find us?"

The comment seemed lost on the angel. Zachariah frowned, then shook his head. "Your brother. He prayed to me. Well, not to me, per se. More like, a prayer to all the angels." Zachariah shook a finger in Dean's direction as he stepped past him in the hallway. "You should talk him about that. Never know what kind of miscreants you may get on the line instead. Lucky for your brother I was there to intervene before someone less . . . savory, stepped in."

Dean stiffened, ice threading through his veins. "Where is Sam?"

Zachariah held up a hand. "We'll get to that in a second. First, I want to talk about you. Dean Winchester, the time traveler. Not a feat many can lay claim to."

Dean bit down on his lip, knowing from experience that stubbornness, that launching into an argument with the angel, would likely leave him with few answers and a lot of pain. He'd have to play along for the moment, at least until an opportunity presented itself. His gaze slid toward the kitchen, to the front door beyond it, where he knew Cas and Bobby were waiting for him. He frowned, wondered why they hadn't come to find out what was taking him so long.

Zachariah followed Dean's gaze, and that annoying smile stretched across his face once more. "They're not coming."

Dean's head snapped back to the angel with wide eyes as the numb fingers of his right hand twitched reflexively. "What did you do to them?"

Zachariah shook his head. "Nothing. At least, not yet. But I wanted the chance to talk. Just us, without interruption."

"Right, well, if you're here to tell me to allow the last seal to be broken and to let Michael use me as his personal meat puppet, then you can shove it right up your lily white—"

"Always right to violence." Zachariah shook his head, sighing heavily. "Look, kid. Obviously, you've done this before. I'm assuming the final seal was broken, otherwise you'd have stopped it by now."

Angry heat flushed through Dean's body, and he rolled his left hand into a tight ball.

"Now, you could keep fighting, of course. But, ultimately, we both know you're going to lose. It's destiny. The cards are stacked against you, kid."

"So I should, what, just become an angel condom for the apocalypse? I don't think so."

Zachariah tapped the air lightly. "Why don't we worry about that later? For now? You just sit back, have a beer or two, and relax." He gestured toward Dean, cocked his head. "You look like you could use some down time."

"Where is Sam?" Dean gritted out between clenched teeth, rapidly losing his patience with the overbearing angel.

"Sam, Sam, Sam. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns."

"I'm not gonna let my brother faceoff with Lilith by himself."

Zachariah sighed deeply. "Relax. Your brother isn't anywhere near Lilith. In fact, he should be arriving at a storage unit in Grand Rapids right about now."

Dean frowned. "What?"

The angel shrugged. "He may have gotten some information about an Enochian puzzle box your mother had in a storage unit up there." Zachariah's expression hardened. "And if you let Lilith's people break the final seal, Sam will walk out of that storage unit untouched."

His heartbeat quickened, but he forced down the panic. "And let me guess, there is no Enochian puzzle box in Grand Rapids?"

"Oh, there's a puzzle box. And it could be used to trap Lilith so that she can't be killed to break the last seal. All of that was true." Zachariah threw his arms wide. "I didn't lie to your brother, Dean. I just . . . omitted a few pertinent details."

"Like?" The anger was bubbling toward the surface, and it took everything Dean had not to launch across the hall and tear the angel's head off.

Zachariah tilted his head to the side, frowning. "Well, I can only imagine how many angels and demons would love to get their hands on Lucifer's true vessel." He paused for a moment, allowing his threat to sink in before continuing. "Sam might be Lucifer's true vessel, but he's not his only one. If you play ball, we can get through this whole messy apocalypse business without any harm ever coming to your dear little brother." Zachariah took a few casual steps away from Dean, then turned back to him. "Ball's in your court, kid."

Before Dean could think of any sort of snappy, smartass reply the angel disappeared, leaving nothing behind but an empty space sitting between him and the kitchen, and a heavy ball of dread in his gut.

"Dean?" Bobby called as he came in through the front door. "What's the hold up?"

Dean didn't respond, just silently met the older hunter came in the study. Cas followed closely behind, his eyes narrowing as he drew closer. "Zachariah was here," he stated gruffly.

"Yeah." Dean replied.

"Who's Zachariah?" Bobby asked.

"He's an angel," Castiel answered. "Upper management. Works under Michael."

"And I'm guessing he wasn't here to help?" Bobby asked as he moved further into the room, gaze shifting between Dean and Cas' faces.

"Yeah, not so much." Dean dragged his frustratingly numb hand down his face. "Sam's not going after Lilith. At least, not directly. Zachariah told him about some Enochian puzzle box in a storage unit that I guess use to belong to Mom in Grand Rapids. That's where he went."

"I'm guessing that's a lie?" Bobby asked.

Dean lifted the shoulder that wasn't throbbing. "I don't know. According to that dickbag, the puzzle box is there, but Sam's still walking into a trap unless we stand down and let Lilith break the final seal." He leaned back against the desk, shoulders slumping, feeling a tightness in his chest. He couldn't both protect his brother and go after Lilith. They were down to the wire here, sixty-five seals broken, and there wasn't enough time left to go after Sam, get the box, and get to Lilith before the last seal was broken. It would have to be one or the other, and there was no way he was going to sacrifice his brother. Not again. Not ever.

"So, what now?" Bobby asked, looking to Dean, allowing him to make the call.

0000

Dean stumbled, barely able to maintain his balance as the world around him shifted and pitched. Cas had dropped him and Bobby at the front of the old convent while Cas went after his brother. Almost immediately they came face to face with one of Lilith's lackeys, there was a short scuffle between them before Bobby pushed him to the side told him to go after Lilith while he took care of the B team.

He paused just inside the building for a long moment, he didn't move, orienting himself before tightening his fingers around Michael's lance and pushing forward. From down the hall, he could hear muted voices, calm and unrushed. A hot spike of fury shot through him was he realized one of them belonged to Ruby, but he tamped it down in an attempt to put a name and face to the second voice. It was a man, and the sound tugged at the back of his memory, like something from a long-forgotten dream, or, more likely, nightmare.

He followed the narrow, dim hallway until it opened in a large room that was once the heart of this crumbling church. Next to the altar, Lilith was sprawled on the floor. Ruby stood in front of her and—

Son of a bitch.

Jake was between them, one hand raised in much the same way Dean found Sam all those years ago. He couldn't help but remember the words Lucifer once said to him, standing in a garden and wearing his brother's face. The words echoed loudly in Dean's head, like a bad omen that left him cold. He struggled to shake them off. He couldn't let them win; he'd come too far.

This time around, there was no hesitation. Dean surged forward and rammed the lance through Ruby's midsection before the bitch even had a chance to make a wiseass comment.

She gaped down in shock at the weapon jutting from her middle, before dropping in a pile of dust.

Jake spun, lowering his hand and leaving Lilith looking worse for wear but still very much alive. "W-what?" he sputtered.

Dean hefted the lance, and particles of Ruby-dust fell to the floor. "Jake, right?"

Whatever you do,

The rain started as Sam worked the lock of the storage unit, fat, sporadic drops that hit the back of his neck and left him chilled. Zachariah had supplied him with the name of the storage company but refused to help any further. Sam was pretty sure it wasn't that the angel didn't know the exact location, but more that Zachariah was only interested in pointing him in the correct direction rather than get his hands dirty.

The lock popped and Sam ducked inside just as the clouds opened and the rain began to fall in earnest, but hesitated after only one step into the storage unit. He squinted into the darkness and pulled a flashlight from his coat pocket. He didn't know Mary Winchester as a mother and even less as a hunter, but he knew hunters and expected the unit to be protected by at least one boobytrap. Sam glanced around for said trap and it didn't take long for his flashlight to catch on something low to the ground, hovering mere inches above the dusty concrete. Bingo.

Sam crouched, used the light to follow the tripwire across the entry to a dusty shotgun mounted to the wall. "Dad would have been proud," he said with appreciation. He carefully stepped over the line, moving the flashlight beam deeper into the large storage unit. A gate split the space, and behind it was a row of lockers. Mom was apparently much more organized than Dad had been. A small smile cracked his lips as he thought, they would have made a great team.

He tucked the flashlight under his arm and got to work picking the lock on the gate. He couldn't help but think of the last time his mother would have locked up the unit, the last time she stood in this exact spot. He wondered if she ever visited after she and Dad married. Wondered what made her stop hunting, and why she never told Dad. How things might have played out differently if she had.

The lock popped open with a shallow echo, but it was the sudden, faint flutter of oversized wings behind Sam that drew his attention.

He spun around, caught Castiel in the eyes with the flashlight beam. "Cas? What the hell are you—"

"Keep your voice down," Castiel ordered, in a low tone that shut Sam up completely. "We can't risk being overheard."

Sam blinked, thrown by the angel's sudden appearance. "What?" he asked in a hushed voice, gaze darting around the empty unit.

"This is a trap." Castiel began to stalk along the perimeter, as though searching for something. Maybe someone.

"What are you talking about?"

"Zachariah sent you here to force your brother's hand," the angel said, seeming annoyed that he had to say any more on the subject. "So that he would have to choose between protecting you and going after Lilith."

Sam's stomach sank at the same time his indignation rose. He didn't need Dean's protection, but before he could voice his irritation another thought struck his mind. "Wait - where is Dean? You didn't let him go after Lilith alone?"

Castiel had the grace to look guilty, which immediately fueled the anger brewing in Sam's chest. "Sam - "

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," a deep voice boomed through the unit, interrupting Cas. A dark figure stepped out of the shadowy corner. A shaft of light from the window crossed his face, revealing a confident, dangerous smirk. "Sam Winchester."

Sam took an instinctive step back but Castiel squared up to the man, his blade sliding free of the sleeve of his trench coat. Tension was coming off the angel in waves, perhaps even fear. Castiel narrowed his eyes and hefted the weapon. "Alistair."

You will always end up here

The kid lifted his chin, eyeing him with suspicion. Jake's head snapped back to Lilith for a moment before returning to Dean.

Dean held up a hand between them. "Look whatever Ruby told you, she was lying, manipulating you for her own plan."

Jake shifted his feet, squaring his shoulders toward Dean. He jabbed a finger at the dust pile that used to be Ruby. "She said killing Lilith will free Lucifer from his cage."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "That's unusually truthful." He lowered his hand. "If you know, why are you doing it?"

"If I don't, they'll kill my family," Jake stated firmly.

"If you let Lucifer free, that's it. Game over. The world ends. You understand, that right? That includes your family."

"No!" Jake shook his head. "No, my family will be protected and taken care of. They promised."

"'Cause demons are so well known for keeping their promises." As the words were leaving his mouth, realized that out of all the evil things in this world, demons, while maybe not entirely honest, generally kept their end of a bargain. The world was full of cruel irony.

Shrill laughter drew their attention to the other side of the room, where Lilith sat on the floor. She laid her head back against the altar, shoulders shaking as she released another peal of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Jake asked defensively.

"Seriously. Come on. You turned yourself into a freak. A monster. And now you're not gonna bite? I'm sorry, but that's honestly adorable." She laughed again.

"Jake," Dean warned. "Don't."

"Either you kill me now, or I hunt down your family and I promise, I will peel the flesh from their bones, nice and slow."

"There's another way," Dean said, taking a slow step toward Jake.

"No!" Jake threw a hand toward him, and an invisible force punched the air from Dean's lungs as he was slammed against the wall.

The lance slipped from his grip as his shoulder impacted the hard wall, sending shockwaves of pain throughout his body. He sank to the ground, blinking spots from his suddenly blurry vision. Dean's fingers skipped across the dusty floor, scrambling for grounding, searching for his fallen weapon.

"I have to do this!" Jake shouted, then turned back to Lilith and thrust his hand out. Her body starts to convulse and flicker with a frighteningly familiar light.

No, Dean thought.

A loud bang echoed through the small space. Jake stood eerily still, arm outstretched, like time had frozen. After a moment, he finally collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, dark blood seeping from the bullet hole in his skull.

Dean dropped his trembling arm, the gun making a metallic thunk as it hit the floor. He was shaking so badly, still struggling to regain his breath, he was mildly impressed he'd made the shot with his left hand.

Light faded away, Lilith slumped to the ground, panting. "It's too late," she teased. "The ritual is done. You kill me now and the cage will still be opened." She rolled her head against the grimly floor, met his eyes across the dark room. Her lips stretched into a grotesque smile. "And if you don't kill me now, we'll just do this all over again."

Dean shoved up into a sit, laid his head back against the wall and took a moment to consider his next move. He was supposed to stall until Cas and Bobby could get to Sam and the box, so they could bring it here and trap Lilith. But they should have been here already. His breath caught in his chest. Zachariah had warned Dean, said if he went after Lilith that Sam would pay for it. Clearly, the angel hadn't been bluffing, which meant all three of them were in trouble, and Dean was out of time.

He could leave her here, alive, the seal unbroken. But Lilith was right; if she left this church alive, it wouldn't be over, not really. They might have bought a little more time, maybe, before the last seal could be broken, but there was no way to be sure. And there was no promise they'd be able to find her again before she found someone to kill her and break the seal for good. He didn't know much about the requirements for breaking the final seal other than Lilith dying, and her blood physically opening the gate. Which allowed for the possibility that she could finish herself off, or one of the angels to kill her, and that wasn't a chance he could take. She had to be stopped, here and now.

Dean reached for Michael's lance. He wrapped his fingers around the staff and pressed his numb right hand against the wall behind him. He bit down hard on a groan of pain that threatened to escape as he worked his feet under him and pushed into a standing position.

"Well, I have a theory about that." He stumbled over to where Lilith was sprawled. "See, last time, it was your blood that formed the door. So, no blood, no door."

"Really?" Lilith scoffed. "You willing to bet the future of the entire planet on that theory?"

Dean stood right in front of the demon but she remained on the floor, not rising to challenge him or even defend herself. He wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't get up, or she just didn't care to. Not that it mattered much; a dead whore was a dead whore. "I've done more with less." Before she could respond, Dean shoved the lance through her mid-section. "So, yeah. I am."

Lilith jerked, light flashing from the wound in her middle. Dean ducked his head and turned away from the explosion of ashes, his right shoulder screaming in tandem with the phantom pain rocking through his left shin. He locked his knees to remain standing and held his breath as he waited for something to happen, for the next curveball to be thrown his way.

Nothing happened. After a few quiet minutes had past, Dean let out a long, slow breath, feeling lightheaded as the realization sank in: he did it. He made it in time, killed Lilith, and stopped Lucifer's cage from opening. He wasn't even sure the lance would work, but it was all he had. The move had been a gamble borne of desperation; he'd run out of time stalling and had to do something.

He dropped his right hand to his side, the lance slipping from his tired, numb grip to clatter to the concrete. It was done. There was no apocalypse and wouldn't be one. No Lucifer, no Michael, no horsemen. One of the critical dominoes had been taken out of the line, the whole chess board had been reset. Stillness settled over the church like a thick blanket. Dean's left leg trembled, and a wave of dizziness and exhaustion washed over him. He saw spots in his vision and had to remind himself to breath.

whatever choices you make,

Alistair. Sam's heart beat painfully against his ribcage. Dean mentioned the name just the other night. It was the name of the demon who had tortured his brother in Hell, the demon who had inflicted possibly irreparable damage. He knew enough of Alistair to be terrified neither of them would make it out of there alive. And that was before the two demons stepped forward to flank Alistair on either side. "Cas," he said quietly.

Castiel rotated his head toward Sam, just a tick. "Get the box," he said, loud enough for only Sam to hear. Before he could so much as draw a breath to respond, the angel raised his blade and rushed the demon.

Sam didn't waste any time, turning toward the row of lockers as the angel and demons clashed across the room. He didn't know which locker contained the box, nor did he have a key to any of them. He was about to choose a locker at random when Castiel was flung away from the melee, striking the frame the opened gate with a clang.

"Third from the left," Cas said breathlessly, before flipping his angel blade in his hand and righting himself for another attack.

Sam moved to the locker and got to work with his pick. The lock released with a satisfying click, but before he could remove it, he was grabbed and thrown away from the lockers. There was a brief moment of weightless flight before his head slammed painfully against the concrete wall. He slid to the floor, fireworks sparking behind his left eye. He knew he couldn't stay down, knew he had to get up and get the box.

An agonized shout split the air above Sam's head as Castiel dispatched of one of the demons with his blade. As he pushed to his feet, a shadow fell over him. The other minor demon, broken off from where Castiel and Alistair battled.

Sam scrambled for the demon-killing knife, gripping the hilt and holding in front of him. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his gaze, his entire body tense like a coiled spring as he squared up to the demon. He couldn't think about how killing the demon meant killing its host, too; he just had to get to Dean.

He didn't even wait for the body to hit the ground before he turned back to the open locker. He pulled out the puzzle box, feeling both its power and fragility.

"Go, Sam," Castiel called, his voice strained as he struggled to gain the upper hand with Alastair. Dark blood stained the side of the angel's head and face, poured from his nose. Alastair's teeth were similarly bloodstained, bared in a feral grin as he brutally knocked Cas to the ground.

Sam hesitated, fingers tightening around the puzzle box. He knew what the box meant for their fight against Lilith, knew that it was possibly the only thing that could keep his brother from doing something stupid. But it was clear that Castiel wasn't going to last much longer against the demon, and he also knew that if he gave into his fear and fled, if he left Cas here, he'd be leaving the angel to die by Alastair's hand. Not to mention the fact he needed Cas to get to Dean in time.

He made a decision, dropped to one knee and settled the box before him on the concrete. Sam shone his flashlight on the box, carefully but quickly inspecting the sigils and raised buttons on each side. He struggled to concentrate through the sounds of the fight coming from across the unit, knowing he was only going to have one chance to do this. Ever since being introduced to Castiel and learning that angels were real, he had been studying Enochian in what spare moments he found. He was by no means fluent in the angelic language, but he knew enough to recognize a sigil on the side of the puzzle box, a second on the top.

Sam trailed his fingers along the raised ridges of the carved symbols, putting together a pattern, a sequence. He didn't know what would happen if he was wrong, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't mean anything good for himself or Castiel. He raised his eyes, and his heart leapt into his throat. Alastair had Castiel's blade in hand and moving in for the kill strike, seemingly unaware that Sam had the box.

Good. Sam steeled himself, held his breath, and pressed the sigils in a rapid succession.

There was a delay, just enough time for Sam to convince himself that he'd been wrong, and then the top of the box popped open. The demon's host body was thrown off-balance as a plume of black smoke rushed from his mouth, funneled across the unit and into the box.

The man's eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the ground, angel blade dropping from lax fingers with a clatter.

Castiel straightened, his wide gaze moving between Sam and the box on the floor between them. His shoulders slumped in some combination of gratitude and defeat. Sam had saved him, but he'd also used the one thing they knew would keep Lilith from completing her plan and unleashing Lucifer.

"Come on," Sam said, jaw set. "We've gotta get to Dean and Bobby."

whatever details you alter,

Behind him, a slow clap shattered the silence, but Dean didn't possess the energy to properly startle at the sudden sound. He turned slowly to find Zachariah standing behind him. He narrowed his gaze and forced himself to stand straighter as he watched the angel step over Ruby's remains on his way into the room. Zachariah nodded, his lips pressed together as he appraised the situation, nodding of appreciation.

"I expected you would find some way to protect your brother while still going after Lilith. Wouldn't be as much fun otherwise, but-" the angel shook a finger at Dean as he moved to the altar "-the Lance of Michael, that I wasn't expecting. Very inspired. You're smarter than you look, kid."

Dean shifted, keeping Zachariah in his eyeline, but didn't speak. He knew the angel had to be up to something; he wouldn't be here otherwise. But Lilith was gone – turned to dust – and couldn't be used to open the cage. He knew there were other ways. One requiring the horsemen's rings and the other a powerful witch and the Book of the Damned, but neither could be done on the fly. For now, he let the angel talk, but he didn't drop his guard.

Zachariah trailed fingertips along the top of the altar, brushing ash from its marbled surface. He rubbed his fingers together with a sigh. "An oversight on my part. But hey, we all make mistakes, right?" He brushed his hand against his pressed gray pants. "The important thing is that we learn from our mistakes and move forward." The angel turned back to Dean, a patronizing smile stretching across his face. "Now, you've had your-" he rolled his hand in the air - "moment of rebellion. I think it's time we get things back on track."

"Well, good luck with that. Seeing as the last seal can't be broken without Lilith, and she's . . ." Dean gestured with his tingling right arm, encompassing the fine coating of dust that covered the room.

Zachariah twisted his lips into a smirk that sent chills down Dean's spine and backed him up a step. The angel held up a finger. "In order to break the last seal, Lilith has to be dead. Check. Her spilt blood then opens the cage." Zachariah reached in the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small container filled with a red substance. "Check."

"No." Dean moved forward without a plan, not thinking much beyond stop him. He made it no more than a step before he was thrown into a wall with jarring force and pinned there by the angel. The impact ignited fireworks throughout his battered body, and it took a moment for his vision to clear, for his shocked lungs remembered how to inflate.

"We didn't expect you to find a way to stop the final seal, but that doesn't mean we weren't going to take precautions, just in case." As Dean watched helplessly, unable to move or speak, Zachariah opened the container and tipped it. Blood fell to the floor in slow, heavy drips.

For an agonizingly long moment, nothing happened. Dean had just enough time for the hopeful, fleeting thought that maybe Zachariah had been wrong, then the blood started moving. The thick red substance shifted in a familiar pattern, snaking its way around the room. Dean struggled against the force holding him against the wall but only managed to cause sharp protests of pain to sound out throughout his body.

As the blood connected to form a circle, Zachariah crossed the room. Dean's heart beat ferociously in his chest, and he never stopped fighting the angel's hold. Not as a bright white glow filled the room and rendered his eyes useless, not as a piercing noise filled the air.

Zachariah moved to stand in front of Dean, leaning in so close that Dean could smell his foul breath. "We have work for you," the angel said as the piercing noise grew to painful levels.

Zachariah, and the church behind him faded from view as the white light washed out Dean's sight entirely.

we will always end up—here.

Castiel nodded and wordless grabbed him by the shoulder. Before Sam had a chance to comment, the world blurred and shifted, yellowish florescent lighting of the storage facility fading to the muted backdrop of a dark, dimly light convent.

The dark shape of a figure standing in the shadow of the convent drew Sam's attention to the building's main entrance. "Bobby!" he called, quickly closing the distance between him and the older hunter.

Relief crossed his weathered features as Bobby grabbed Sam's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Did you get the box?" he asked.

"How did you - "

"It's a long story," Bobby cut him off.

"We don't have the box." Cas walked up to the two. "Also a—long story."

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked. He had a sinking feeling that he already knew the answer.

Bobby jerked his head in the direction of the convent. "Inside, attempting to stall Lilith and company."

"Bobby! You let him go in alone!" Sam jerked his gaze in the direction of the building and pushed past Bobby before the older hunter could stop him, or even say anything. As Sam's fingers wrapped around the door handle, a piercing tone bit through the air and a blinding column of light exploded from the angled roof of the convent.

For a moment, Sam was sure his eardrums were going to explode. He ducked away from the door as the ground shifted. The sound was gone as quickly as it started, and the light faded. Sam blinked away the spots and realized he was standing on a hill, miles from the convent. Cas stood between he and Bobby, a hand on each man's shoulder. In the distance, the column of light continued to light up the night sky.

So, I win.

Carry on my wayward son

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

I lied, I do that, still. This is why we don't have nice things. The story continues in the 3rd and final instalment, Entropy go "MMMbop" your way on over.