Smoke

Sam wasn’t happy. That much was clear. He drove the Impala back to the Bunker, roaring ahead of Hannah in her larger car, and she knew he was resentful of the time spent on the journey. It couldn’t be helped.

Hannah was at full strength, but compared to the difficulty of breaking into Hell that meant nothing. Sam seemed to think it should be easier, citing his passage through Purgatory and the time Crowley had brought them into an offshoot of his territory to see Lucifer.

Hannah just stared at him until he gave up arguing. Neither one of those was the same as this. Rogue Reapers and back doors and special passes. The Winchesters had become far too used to getting where they needed to be, but Crowley was dead and Billie had the Reapers back in line. Hannah wasn’t about to interfere with that.

She wasn’t entirely sure how Billie would react to the knowledge that Hannah and others had returned from whatever realm she’d been in. Drawing attention to it seemed unwise.

It was only because the realms were out of alignment that she had a chance of sneaking them in to Hell at all. Even with the boost offered by the ritual they’d perform at the Bunker, with materials she couldn’t find easily without the use of her wings, it was going to be a difficult and taxing transition. At least, if they wanted an escape route.

Sam railed at that, arguing they should worry about that later. If Hannah could get them into Hell immediately, he said, then she should.

Hannah refused.

“Last minute salvations are done with,” she reminded him. “At least, you need to stop relying on them. This way gives us a way in and a way out. We’re doing it this way.”

So Sam gave in, because he had no other choice, and he drove.

Hannah was glad of the time on her own, time to put her thoughts in order.

She missed Bela. She missed the demon’s spikiness and her determination and her ability to act as though she was completely in control even when Hannah knew a good part of what Bela had gone through, even before death. Bela gave the impression she would survive anything, even if she didn’t survive without cracks. In a world where so much had been lost, Hannah found that comforting.

Had found it comforting.

She didn’t need Bela back. She’d lost too many by now to think any one loss would end her. But she wanted her back, very badly indeed.

She wasted no time once she was back at the Bunker, pulling the ingredients together and readying the bronze bowl in which she’d assemble them. Sam practically vibrated with urgency and she had to tune him out.

Finally, she could tell him to come closer, and painted the sigils onto his palms.

“You need to avoid washing those off,” she said. “If they’re washed off, or altered, they won’t grant exit.”

Sam nodded, but she wasn’t certain he was listening to her.

“Sam?” She waited until his eyes met hers. “Sam, this is important. I know you want Dean back. I want Bela back. But we can’t skip over the details. And we have to be practical. You can’t turn this into some suicide mission.”

He blinked at that, his head moving back as though she’s pushed it. It took him a moment before he responded.

“Trust me,” he said, “I’ve done more than enough stupid stuff to get Dean back. Look, I can’t promise I won’t take risks with my own life, and I know that’s screwed up, but I’ve sworn to change that before and… Well.”

He looked away and took a breath. She gave him a few seconds.

“Just because you’ve fallen into old patterns before is no reason to give into it,” she said. “You think it was easy for me, to change and grow after eons of being an obedient angel to Raphael?”

She saw surprise again and considered that he might not have known her old role, healing. He perhaps hadn’t really known what Raphael’s role was before all that tangled mess with the End Days. They didn’t have time for that now.

“Do you think it was easy for Castiel, to change as much as he has? And he’s still trying, isn’t he? I saw it, when I traveled with him. You can’t know how hard it is for angels to do that, so if he can adapt, you can at least try.”

He didn’t answer, but he nodded, a jerk of his chin that could have meant anything. It would have to do. If Sam put Bela, or Castiel, at risk by going to typical Winchester lengths to save his brother, she’d have to do something about it.

Dean, she could live without. She was willing to accept Castiel would likely not be so sanguine about Dean’s loss, and she would do her best to get them all back out, but she could only do so much.

She was going after her lover and her brother.