There was a pop like air rushing into a vacuum. The writhing men comprising the shadow figures flew apart, leaving a soaked Buffy on the ground in their place. Spike gathered her into his lap, her wet hair and clothes seeping through his shirt and jeans. “Hey! Hey, Goldilocks. Did you find anythin’ you liked at the Bears’ house?”

Her eyes flew open and she punched him in the nose. Bone crunched and blood spewed from his face. Then she kicked him in the head. Everything went black.

After throwing Buffy out, Dawn and Willow had clutched each other and cried, using phrases like tough love and the right thing, though neither of them felt convinced. Now that it was morning, Dawn’s head still pounded, her empty eye socket raged.

She wanted to set the world on fire. She wanted to cry. She wanted her sister back.

Dawn stood at the top of the stairs listening. She listened to the Impala’s purr as Sam and Dean left at daybreak to look for bodies in the rubble of the winery. To Andrew worrying about Spike not coming in last night. To Xander and Anya arriving with more food and medical supplies. To the Potentials padding up and down the stairs to use the bathroom, and when they tried to talk to her, she pretended not to hear.

She couldn’t see them on that side of her anyway.

Downstairs, Dawn could hear the Potentials debating the veracity of what Dean had told them.  The Potentials had insisted on knowing what was going on. (She couldn’t blame them for that; though she blamed them for everything else.) After watching Buffy ousted from her own home, Dean delivered a no-holds-barred, fire-in-the-belly speech including everything from angels trying to force God to return to what the demons did to Sam.

It seemed they were stuck on the part about alternate dimensions. Some believed in them. Some didn’t, despite Anya having explained about hell dimensions in her introduction to demons lecture. However, she had also told them demons were poor, misunderstood creatures.

Downstairs, a girl asked, “D-do you think Lucifer brought any h-hellhounds with him?”

Dawn closed her one good eye, rested her head against the wall, and let the voices of the girls downstairs mix into an unintelligible buzz. After a while, she sensed someone was sitting on the step by her. Peeking through her lashes, Dawn saw Wook staring into space.

“Did you tell her?” Dawn asked. “Did you ever tell Sophia how you felt?”

For a split second, horror took over Wook’s face. Then she shook her head. “Sophia...she was not like me.”

The crush had seemed obvious to Dawn and several other people. “You should talk to Willow. You could probably use a good cry and --” Dawn pointed at the bandage over her missing eye “-- I’m only up for half a cry right now. I hope it helps.”

Dawn slowly walked downstairs. As the Potentials noticed her, a wave of silence fell over the room. She curled up in a chair by the window, fixing her one good eye outside. When it was clear she didn't want to speak to them, the girls resumed their whispers.

“Maybe the angels?” asked Steph. “If they brought the Winchesters here, maybe they’ll come help us?”

Dark circles around her puffy eyes, Maya curled her lip in disgust. “Are you joking? They sound bloody terrifying, like cosmic toddlers throwing a fit for daddy.”

“The angels aren't coming to save us,” said Dani. “God is out of the game. No one is coming, but maybe we can move home field.”

“Move the fight off the Hellmouth?” asked Karen.

“Bigger,” said Dani. “Lucifer is only here because he followed the Winchesters, so let's move the Winchesters back where they belong.”

Dawn stifled a snicker. She couldn’t imagine any of these girls making the Winchesters do anything. When Dean returned, she’d share Dani’s plan.

“You have a magic portal in your pocket?” Betje asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, no, but --”

Keisha held up her hand to stop Dani from continuing. “I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am about what Dean said. I'm a life-long church girl, and this is not my Heavenly Host. However, I am not about to sell out Sam for my own safety.”

Kate squeezed into the circle. “It's not about you or Sam; it's about saving everyone.”

“I think the people in their world would disagree with you,” Karen countered. “A Slayer’s duty is to save people, not pick and choose lives.”

Dani threw her pillow across the room and released a frustrated growl. “We’re out of options! Either everyone dies or half the people die.”

“It’s not like they’re real, not like us,” Kate added.

“Then we go down fighting!” said Keisha, matching Dani’s volume. “Maybe Buffy was right yesterday? Maybe we just have to attack as much as we can?”

The room disintegrated into bickering about Buffy’s leadership, the realness of unmet people, and the blame the Winchesters bore. Again, a hush fell over them. Someone hovered by her.

“Hmm, Dawn, you’re missing something.” Xander’s hands were shoved in his pockets as he casually inspected Dawn’s new face. “Rumor is, pirating requires a beard. Or a parrot. Both would be better, but you have to have at least one.”

Despite herself, Dawn felt a small smile trip across her lips.

“Good news though! No beard means it’s easier to eat this.” He handed her a candy bar, one of the good ones with chocolate and peanut butter.

It was ridiculous and exactly what she needed. She unwrapped it slowly. “Willow tells me I can get a glass eye. I could get something that totally matches my other one, and then, like, pop it out on Halloween to scare kids.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Not that we’ll see another Halloween with this bozo army.”

“And the spirit is gone.”

Dawn took a large bite and glanced out the window. “Shut up! Buffy’s outside.”

Xander and Willow’s hearts were heavy but happy as they crossed the street to talk with Buffy.

Buffy stood staring at the neighbor’s lilac bush as if she could set it on fire with her mind. She plucked a heavy bloom. “They love me. They love me not,” she said as she pulled the petals off.

“Buff, that’s not fair,” Xander blurted. Not the foot he’d wanted to start on. He was still uncertain if he hadn’t spoken up in her defense out of cowardice or agreement. The bruise on his cheek felt like the latter.

“We love you!” said Willow, reaching out to rub Buffy’s arm. “We just think you need a break. All the stress is affecting your judgement.”

“My judges are the guy who left his fiance at the altar and the woman who tried to burn the world? Both less than a year ago. What do you know about stress?” Buffy asked as she crushed the flower in her fist.

“A hell of a lot,” said Willow in a low voice.

“You’re not the characters I came to Disneyland for. Where’s Dean?”

“He and Sam went to deal with the bodies at the winery.”

“Then you two can Hi-Ho your butts back in the house, and I’ll wait here,” she said with coldness in her eyes.

“I know you’re mad and all, but come in for some --”

“I’m not here for you,” their friend snapped. Her eye twitched. “Not yet. Now go back inside or I’ll give you more than a bruise.”

To Dean’s surprise, other than missing doors and a blackened entrance, the winery was still standing. “Two cans of gas and a building full of alcohol.”

“Wine doesn’t have a high enough alcohol content to burn, so it probably put the fire out,” Sam explained.

“Wow, even the things you know about booze are nerdy.” Although, Buffy would be relieved to know his anger-move hadn’t been any more effective than her plan.

“We going in?”

The dark maw of the building stared him down. Less than a day before, that place had claimed five of them and incapacitated even more. A chill ran down Dean’s spine. “Can’t afford it. Let’s go.”

On the way back to the Impala, his phone rang. Xander wanted to warn him that an angry Buffy was waiting for him at the house. Angry. Crying. Dean didn’t care. He needed to see her.

Haloed by the purple flowers in the neighbor’s yard, Buffy looked stunning. Her hair was in loose, natural waves, and her face bare of makeup. It was her soft-with-sleep, content-in-his-arms beauty, though he doubted she wanted to be held.

When he gently called to her, her icy resolve melted away. “Dean!” A smile blossomed on her lips as she breathed out his name. "We need to talk.”

“Buffy, I'm so, so sorry for the shit I said.” He took her small hands in his; it was the first time he’d touched her in what felt like forever. Exhibiting no hesitation, she lightly squeezed his fingers. He’d never been so thrilled to hold a woman’s hand. “I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She nodded, the light catching on the fan of her lashes. “It’s hard for people to see a bigger plan in the moment.” Looking up at him with curious eyes, she said, “Speaking of, do you have a plan for Lucifer?”

“It was a bitch of a night, sweetheart. Treading water as fast as we can, but look around you.” Every house on the block was empty. “The tide’s comin’ in.”

“Do we head for the hills with the girls?”

“Of course not. We’re the line between him and the rest of your world. We gotta hold it so the world doesn’t go all I Am Legend.”

Worry swelled in Buffy’s eyes. She opened her mouth several times, but said nothing. Finally, she swallowed and said, “What about Michael?”

“Michael? I don’t think that douche even knows we’re here.”

The worry washed away. She gazed into his eyes and appeared surprisingly happy for knowing it was the end of the world. “It’s like a burn one, get-one-free special.” She laid her head on his chest, her arms encircling his waist. Dean embraced her, content that if they were going to die at least they would die together.

She shifted, and he started to let her go. “No,” she said, “keep holding me, baby.”

A shout down their deserted block drew his attention. Blood streaming down his face, Spike ran at them yelling something. Confused, Dean looked down into Buffy’s black eyes.

He fell back in terror, numbness taking over his body. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. His brain screamed, No! No! No!

“Hey baby, surprised to see me?” the demon inside her cooed. She grabbed him by the arms and tossed him into a flower bed.  

Spike jumped her, but she threw him over her shoulders.

“I thought I killed you.” Buffy pulled a knife from her boot. Spike blocked the blow to his chest, leaving a gash on his forearm.

Dean pulled her off, causing her to whirl back on him and slash his cheek. “Gonna cut your pretty face --”

Then she stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. The black in her eyes swirled wildly. Buffy trembled, then collapsed in a heap. Behind her, Spike stood holding a bloody rock.

Buffy didn’t know where she was. It was so dark, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. She tried to feel for a wall, a door, a light, but she couldn’t move her arms. It was like fighting off a deep sleep.

She wasn’t alone. Someone -- some thing -- was laughing. It sounded like broken glass, like a punch knocking teeth loose, like being lost and alone; yet somehow Buffy knew it was a laugh.

I like it in here, said a voice that was a cross between a bark and a hiss. So many toys.

Suddenly, Buffy was in bed. Angel’s hands slid from her breasts to her thighs as he kissed her neck with tantalizing slowness.

That laugh.

Buffy was at her high school. She was holding a gun. Angel stood before her, pleading. Shaking, she pulled the trigger.

That laugh again, like cold water running down her spine.

Now Buffy was struggling on the bathroom floor, tired and terrified, trying to push Spike off of her.

Fuck, this is fun.

Then Buffy could see. She could see Dean standing in front of her, saying something she couldn’t hear. Buffy tried to say something, anything -- he was right there -- but no words came out. Then he was holding her. It was bliss and torture all wrapped together.

The voice practically sang, Gonna kill your boyfriend. Gonna make you watch. Gonna snap his neck. Oh yes! Oh yes!

Whatever this thing was, Buffy wasn’t going to let it win. She managed to loosen her grip on Dean, but she heard her voice ask him to stay. For a brief second, she felt the thing look away, distracted by something Buffy couldn’t see. She seized the moment, and threw Dean away from her.

Blackness and laughter. A flash of Spike and blood. Buffy tried to move, tried to scream, but she could see her own arms lashing out with a knife. Now Dean was in front of her, blood on his cheek. Buffy focused on his eyes, those deep green eyes. She pulled up all the love inside of her, everything she had done and hope to do with this man, and shoved it to the front of her mind.

The laugh was cut short. Buffy’s body was holding still.

Then everything went black.

This was a nightmare. If Dean opened his eyes, he would see Buffy sound asleep with little pillow creases on her face. Instead, Spike, his face a sickly shade of purple, sat sprawled on a chair while Anya sewed up his arm. The mysterious book Spike had brought consumed Giles, who looked like he’d aged ten years.

The kitchen was packed with everyone who cared about Buffy. And the guilty, Dean thought, bitterly surveying their downcast faces.

“How’s Dawn?” Xander asked Willow when she returned to the kitchen.

“Sleeping.”

“You put her under?”

“I hate to use the word hysterical -- because sexist, but it applies. She was hysterical and crying, which isn’t helping her heal. She kept saying this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t kicked Buffy out.”

The Potentials averted their eyes.

“She’s not wrong,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Keisha started to apologize, “If I knew this could happen--”

“No,” said Betje, shaking her head. “What’s done is done. We have to fix this demon problem.”

Karen took a bloody towel from Spike and handed him a fresh one for his split lip and broken nose. With the power off, they had nothing cold for the swelling. “Recap for the new girl? My head was spinning too much to get all of that.”

“Kind of ‘urts to talk,” moaned Spike.

Anya sighed. “Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Kicked out of the house with her tail between her legs, Buffy thought she’d do a vision quest to learn more Slayer tricks. Only the vision was more of a touch-and-feel experience. Poof! Gone. Poof! Back with bonus gross demon parasite.”

“You’re grossed out?” huffed Willow.

Anya finished bandaging Spike’s arm and repacked the first aid kit. “Demons may maim and kill and sew chaos, but there are lines. Very few demons possess, and they’re social outcasts. This goes off the map into unknown heebee jeebee territory.”

“Okay, Robin, that was very helpful,” Sam said as he came in the back door and hung up his phone. “Unhelpful asshole. He doesn’t know anything.”

Sam handed Willow a small necklace. “You too, Giles,” he said.

“No anti-possession charms for the rest of us?” Xander asked.

Sam handed another to Spike. “The rest of you aren’t vessels. You can’t be possessed. Just witches, slayers and vampires.”

“And Potential Slayers,” Willow added as she slipped on the necklace. “But that got explody last time.”

After securing unconscious demon Buffy in a devil’s trap in the basement, they had moved most of the Potentials to the neighboring house for safety. Some were too injured to move. A few, wracked with guilt, refused to leave.

His nose buried once more in his book, Giles muttered to himself, “Where did Bernard find this? These were lost. They’re all dead.”

“Giles, mutter reassuring things or don’t mutter at all,” Anya snapped.

Giles snapped his head up, seemingly surprised the conversation had moved on without him. “In any other circumstance, holding this book would be a rare treat. Scholars thought they were lost when the Order of the Oracle was wiped out.”

“Order of the Oracle?” Sam said. “I have one of their books. I found it online.”

Giles glared at Sam over his glasses. “Could I see this book?”

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“It’s in your bloody--!” Giles took a deep breath and muttered into his book, “Let’s just keep rare texts in our cars next to our mixtapes. Heaven forbid we use bookshelves like civilized people.”

“We do an exorcism, right?” asked Karen. “Some pea soup, head spinning, and Buffy’s back?”

“No,” said Dean, tired of listening to them.

“No? It was good enough for me,” said Spike.

“That demon was making you a vampire. That’s the gig here. This one, I don’t know where Buffy found it, but it’s from our side of the tracks. I think it knows me. We need to find out how it got here and if more are coming.”

“If there are?” asked Xander.

Dean didn’t want to tell him it dropped their chances from zero to zilch.

Karen’s eyes darted from person to person in spinning confusion. “Can we go back to Spike being a vampire -- because what?”

The basement door burst open and Andrew collapsed on the ground wheezing. “Buff-- She-- It? Waking is happening.” Anya and Giles followed the Winchesters while everyone else hid their faces.

In the basement, Dani was standing dangerously close to the outer line of the demon trap inspecting Buffy, black eyes fluttering, with the curiosity of children taunting a lion at the zoo. “Doesn’t look so bad. She couldn’t be worse than a Serparvo or a Haxil Beast.”

Laying on her side, Buffy opened her eyes.

“Dani, step back!” barked Sam.

“Help me! I’m afraid!” whimpered the demon.

Dani leaned across the circle, her face close to Buffy’s. Before Dean got to the bottom of the stairs, the creature jerked toward the Potential and bit into her cheek. Dani reeled back screaming. Buffy smiled, a chunk of skin hanging from her teeth.

“No!” shouted Anya her finger wagging at the bloody-faced creature. “Bad demon! Naughty! You’re the kind of demon that gives demons a bad name. What kind of demon are you anyway?”

“The real kind.”

Anya looked at the Winchesters with fear and confusion as she lead Dani upstairs.

The demon spit the piece of cheek on the ground. For a brief moment, the edge melted from her glare as Buffy coughed and spit blood from her mouth. Then she grinned an awful, red grin. “Sam and Dean. I missed you boys! Haven’t seen you since I sicced my puppies on your last girlfriend.”

“Meg,” growled Sam.

“In the flesh -- or rather your girl’s flesh, huh, Dean?” A satisfied chuckle bubbled from her throat as Dean bit his tongue to keep from reacting. “I think of all the bodies I’ve possessed, this one is my favorite. No offense, Sammy.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” said Dean.

“Too late. I love exploring her nooks and crannies. All of her dark places. The secrets in here!” Meg shimmied with excitement. “For instance, Giles,” she said, directing her attention to librarian on the stairs, “do you remember telling her you would always support her? It’s one of those memories a girl with daddy issues goes back to when she's having a down day.”

“I remember,” whispered Giles, his eyebrows furrowed with agony as he beheld his only child strung up like a puppet.

“Until she fucks up, of course. Then she’s out on the street.” She still smiled her bloody smile, but her eyes were pleading.

Giles glared at her with steely resolve. “The consequences for my actions have been dire, and I won’t leave her now.”

“Enough!” Dean snapped. “How’d you get here, Meg?”

“Hard work and clean living?”

He crouched by the edge of the demon trap, so he could look into Meg’s black eyes. “You think I don’t know how to get information out of you?”

“I know for a fact you couldn’t hurt your Girly any more than you’d hurt your Sammy. She’s barely spoken to you for weeks, and you’re still jumping through hoops like a trained bitch to get her to notice you. You got it bad, Dean, and she’s ready to run away screaming.” Buffy slammed her body against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. She rose to her knees slowly, awkwardly, Buffy’s long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and neck, a wry smile on her red lips.

“You know what pushed her away? It wasn't the Apocalypse or the Potentials or anything else you’ve blamed.” Her smile disappeared. Her mouth clamped shut. A twitch washed over her muscles like a personal earthquake. The smile returned. “It wasn’t any of that. It was the baby.”

The more Buffy focused, the more she could move. She beat her fists against the darkness and screamed, screamed to get out. She shut out the taunts, the memories, and focused. I’m near my house. Dean is here. Spike is here.

She tasted blood. Cold crept into her bones. Dean’s voice, far off and muffled, snapped the silence. Dean is here.

The laugh again.

Buffy threw herself against the blackness once more and felt a hard smack. The air rushed from her lungs. Pain was good. Pain was present.

Then she could see her basement. She was in the demon trap they’d painted for Spike. Dean and Sam stood outside of the circle; Giles on the stairs. Dean’s jaw twitched with rage.

Suddenly, there was a white hot stab in her gut. Buffy screamed in agony.

Oh yes, let’s share that, the voice growled.

Buffy tried to put her hands over her mouth, to bite her tongue. To keep it in. Still the word erupted into the air, plump and sad.

Baby.

Dean clenched his jaw. The ploy was low even for Meg. “You're lying.”

“Why? Because she would have told you?” she said in a mocking whine.

“Because you’re a sack-a-shit demon.”

“And this sack of shit is wearing your girlfriend. I have access to memories and thoughts you couldn’t imagine. She may let you rut around in this body, but it's not yours.” Quickly, Buffy slammed her body back into the wall with a gasp.

Then a laugh. “She never forgot your dream of starting a family together, Dean. Buffy battles monsters for a living, but the mere idea of spawning your green-eyed ankle-biters made her want to vomit. Then she got two little lines on the test.

“I know what you’re thinking. Wracking your brain counting back the days since she let you fuck her. Wondering if you always used a condom. Blaming her for messing up her pills,” Meg twisted Buffy’s lips into a smirk. “What’s funny is that you two morons with your supercharged bodies thought the conventional would be enough.”

Dean wasn’t thinking any of that. Instead, a cold grief crept into his bones that Buffy had carried the burden alone. Another person he loved was too scared to tell him the truth. He shook his head and whispered, “You can shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?” She grinned from ear to ear, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Already called that bluff, dickwad. Besides, if you want the truth, you can ask Giles.”

Giles’ eyes flitted between Dean and the demon. The unasked question seemed to press him smaller. “Awhile ago, Buffy wanted to come when I drove to Los Angeles to pick up two Potentials at the airport. I thought it was odd, but I was happy for the company. She was distant, quiet. We had a strained conversation. As soon as we arrived in LA, she got a ride into town, leaving us at the airport for a couple hours. She never said what she was doing. I...I had assumed she went to see Angel.”

“Is she pregnant?” Dean whispered, trying to keep the shattered feeling from his voice.

Meg laughed, made all the crueler in Buffy’s voice. “Not now, baby daddy. I took care of that before I came. Bad enough I have all the memories of fucking you; didn’t want any part of you sharing my meatsuit too. Took a lot of poking around in there. In fact, I made sure that if you exorcise me, she’s going to bleed out.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. Sam whispered in his ear, “Go upstairs, and let me handle this.”

The holy water and salt Buffy could handle, but that wouldn’t break Meg. Ruby’s knife tucked into Sam’s belt worried him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re white as a sheet,” said Sam, concerned.

Upstairs, people started to scream.

“You pretty much had to chain me to fight me,” Buffy shouted into the blackness.

This isn’t fighting, Firework. This is subjugation. Humans belong under a boot.

“You forgot something.” Buffy smiled, confident she could end this. “I’m the Slayer.”

The laugh. I don’t care if you’re the Pope. You’re still my puppet until I break you and toss you.

Buffy closed her eyes. It wasn’t just her and this thing trapped in here. Buffy was full of memories and love, of joys and comforts this monster couldn’t imagine. She dug down deep. She filled her mind with bright memories of her sister and mother. Of Dean’s tender kisses. Of her friends fighting by her side. She dug down into the parts of her that were warm and soft, the instinctive, protective parts.

That’s where Buffy found her.

At the first scream, Giles bolted upstairs. Sam took the stairs in twos.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was a trick -- another demon, maybe Caleb -- but he knew that he had to stay. He had to get Meg out of Buffy if they were going to win.

In the demon trap, Meg looked at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror. Buffy’s began to glow as if she’d swallowed a small sun. She fell to the ground, shaking and flailing. Then the room flared white.

Through the spots in his eyes, Dean could see a black cloud swirling above Buffy’s body. He pulled her free from the demon trap and held her in his arms. Small beads of sweat formed on her pale skin. Her eye fluttered for a moment before settling on him. “Dean.” Her voice was weak and fading.

It sounded like goodbye.

Willow’s sleep spell hadn’t worked as long as she’d hoped. She sat on the living room floor with Dawn sobbing into her shoulder.

Xander rubbed Dawn’s back. He’d known her since she was nine -- plucky, needy and already showing signs of teenage resentment. “Dean once told me a friend of theirs was possessed but managed to overpower the demon. Buffy’s gotta be stronger than that guy. You’ll see.”

“It’s my fault,” Dawn repeated. “We’re made for each other, and I pushed her out.”

“Maybe we should take her over to the neighbor’s with the rest of the girls,” Anya suggested.

Dawn sat up and glared at her with her one good eye. “No! I’m staying with my sister. I want to see her!”

The Potentials observed their domestic scene from the dining room, the bandage on Dani’s maimed cheek already red. Heading upstairs, Willow said, “I’m going to get more bandages and painkillers.”

Without warning, Dani was consumed by a blue light. She screamed, but other than lending their voices, everyone flattened themselves against the wall. The blue light floated off of her, toward the living room.

Another blue light appeared, but it quickly faded, leaving a short man with a small pursed mouth and golden eyes.

The first light surrounded Xander and Dawn. It was warm and tingly with occasional jolts of fire running through it. The man tapped the light, and it too became a man, with dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes. He pulled the bandage from Dawn’s eye, revealing a blue eye where there had been an empty socket. Frenzied, Dani yanked the bandage from her healed face.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to blow your vessel, Castiel.”

Castiel turned his head to the side like a dog trying to understand. His eyes darted between Spike and Rachel before choosing the girl. “People are hurt from our war, Gabriel. What else should I do?”

Sam and Giles burst into the room. “You!” Sam shouted, lunging at Gabriel. Gabriel flicked away, reappearing at the other end of the room with lightning arcing from his back.

“Lucy! I’m home!” he said with a grin. “Miss me?”

“Cas, we need your help.”

Gabriel laughed but was unamused. “Surprise, surprise. Heard you screwed things up with my brother. Grab Dean; I’ll take you home.”

“What? No, we have a situation in the basement.”

“I’m sure it’s dire, drama queen, but do you remember the little Apocalypse you left behind? There are still two Horsemen riding around in Satan’s saddle. Get your brother. We have to go.”

“You owe me, you son of a bitch!”

A darkness washed over Gabriel’s face before Castiel clamped his hand on his shoulder. “You promised you’d help. You promised you wouldn’t hurt them. Take me to the basement.”

Sam lead the two men and most of the curious group downstairs, where a black cloud swirled inside the devil’s trap, and Dean, his face wet with tears, cradled Buffy, pale and still in his arms. “Cas?” he said, his voice small and broken.

“Check on the girl. I’ll deal with the demon,” said Gabriel. He plunged his hands into the cloud.

Once more, lightning began to shoot from his back. The Potentials, Anya, and Andrew bolted back upstairs. In a second, the demon was gone.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. He put his hand on Buffy’s head and furrowed his brow. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“What do you --”

“I mean, I could wake her up, but she probably needs the rest. Did she expel the demon on her own?”

Shocked, Dean could only muster a nod.

“Fascinating.”

Buffy wiggled her head like she was fighting an early morning dream. She gazed at Dean through half-open eyes, leaned her head against his chest, and fell back into a dead sleep.

Dean didn’t know or care why angels were in Sunnydale. He didn’t care about what trick Gabriel was there to play. All that mattered was that the woman he loved, the woman who he thought had just died in his arms, was breathing against his neck. The Scoobies and Potentials pressed themselves against the wall as he carried Buffy upstairs.

He laid her on the bathroom floor and drew a bath. Dean felt gutted, his insides shoved back in every which way, sewn up with dental floss. He worried it wouldn't hold, one wrong move and his guts would spill out on the floor.

Dawn burst into the room, Willow right behind her. “She's okay?”

“Good as new. Just tired. I see your pirate career is in shambles.”

Dawn smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. “Those guys downstairs, they're angels aren't they? Your friend Castiel?”

“Yeah.” While he was thrilled to see Castiel, he knew this wasn't a casual visit. “Willow, you mind?” he asked gesturing at the bath. Buffy needed rest, but he knew she usually liked to clean the blood off first Willow, who seemed unusually pale and skittish, grabbed towels.

He heard a whimper as he started to get up. Buffy was reaching out to him, her voice crackling and raw. “It wasn't true. She lied.”

“I know,” he lied.

Downstairs Sam and Gabriel were already in a tense argument, the rest of house looking on in confusion and fear.

Everyone but Spike. “Come on! Get with the healing! Starting to feel like the only girl at the prom without a corsage.”

Castiel stepped toe-to-toe with Spike, their faces inches apart. “What sort of creature are you?” the angel asked.

“Lately, punching bag.”

“Good to see you, buddy,” said Dean, embracing the angel who believed he was worth saving.

“And how the hell do you think we can kill Death?” Sam shouted.

“I can get you the weapon. I need you to do it,” Gabriel said as Sam towered over him.

“What's going on?” Dean asked.

“This asshole--”

“Have some respect, Sasquatch.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Supreme Asshole wants to take us back home to kill Pestilence and Death, because he's too scared to do it himself.”

“This isn't a matter of fear, boy. Someone is going to have to keep the demons off of you.”

“Pestilence and Death? Why?”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Something about rings and a quest and a cage. It sounds like it should have swords and its own Hans Zimmer score.”

“You have the rings of Famine and War,” Gabriel explained. “Collect all four, you got yourself a door back to the cage.”

“Cage is open. Big freakin’ deal,” said Dean. “Lucifer's not going to walk in there on his own.”

“We are still working on an alternative to Sam's possession,” said Castiel.

“What, you got mine sorted?” said Dean.

The angels exchanged quick glances. “Zachariah found another.”

It was the Winchesters’ turn to look confused. That didn't make any sense. Dean was the result of years of cupid interference, breeding vessel with vessel. He was Michael’s only hope.

“They raised Adam,” Castiel explained. “They promised him that if he said yes, they would bring back his mother.”

“Adam? There's an Adam now?” asked Anya.

“We had a half-brother,” Sam said. “He was killed before we met him.”

“Oh goody. More Winchesters,” she grumbled. “Only good can come of this.”

“Granted, this is not my area of expertise,” Giles began, “but Dean is Michael’s true vessel. Wouldn’t possessing anyone else be playing with a handicap?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.” Gabriel shrugged. “He couldn't wait on you forever, Dean. Especially when he didn't know where I hid you.”

“You?” asked the brothers in unison.

“Lemme guess, you thought Cas had the juice to get you here? Please. He didn’t even know about this place.”

Someone tapped Dean’s shoulder. It was one of the Potentials, looking not at all eager to meet angels. “Willow sent me. Buffy wants to see you.”

“Come back tomorrow,” he told Gabriel.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to even get here?” the angel asked.

“Been a bitch of a day, Feathers. Come back tomorrow.” Dean raced up the stairs to find the bathroom empty. Wrapped in a towel, Buffy sat on her bed, her wet hair dripping on her sister, who looked like she had no intention of ever letting her go.

Buffy smiled at him softly when he entered the room. “Dean, would you take me home?”