Bart: Are we awake?
Jim: We're not sure. Are we... black?
Bart: Yes, we are.
Jim: Then we're awake... but we're very puzzled.

- Blazing Saddles

Kate's jaw cracked in a yawn, breaking the quiet of the little museum and earning her a glare from an older woman. The effect of the look was lessened when the woman turned around and resumed studiously examining a stuffed jackelope.

The museum wasn't half-bad. Kate traveled extensively for work, and she often found herself in small towns. When the day was done and Kate still had some hours of daylight left in whatever place she ended up in, she'd often kill some time taking in local attractions. Historical sites, giant balls of twine, parks… and today, this place: Camwick's House of Curiosities. It was a cramped old building, with a warm, musty atmosphere that had Kate's eyes drooping despite herself. Every available wall and surface was covered in bizarre photos, relics, and placards, but most prominent was the truly impressive collection of cryptozoological taxidermy. She hadn't seen a collection this large since she'd visited the big crytozoology museum in Maine a few years ago.

She'd spent a good hour wandering through this place, perusing the various curiosities and waiting for the fine, icy mist outside to stop before she braved the roads in search of a good burger and some decent beer. Now, becoming drowsy from the warmth of the museum and feeling her stomach begin to protest her skipping lunch, she began to pick her way around tables and exhibits towards the exit.

She wasn't sure what caused her to stop on the way out.

Maybe she was just naturally drawn to the movement out of the corner of her eye, or maybe it was some property of the mirror itself. Whatever the cause, Kate spotted the mirror and approached it. It was very large, making the cramped room seem larger than it truly was, but surrounded by a gaudy, ostentatious gold frame that seemed out of place in the dusty museum. A placard had been placed just below the mirror, and Kate had to crouch a little to read it.

Normal Mirror

This is an ordinary mirror. Placed in the museum in 2011, this mirror is just for decoration. Please stop asking us the story behind it. There isn't one.

Kate's lips quirked up at the humor of the writer and went to straighten up, already fumbling in her coat pockets for her gloves.

Everything happened very quickly, then.

An irritated 'tsk' and a waft of perfume as the woman who'd glared at Kate earlier bumped into her while she straightened. A startled curse as Kate rocked forward, off-balance, and threw her hands forward in an attempt to stop herself from crashing into the mirror face-first. Then, she was falling.

Colors whirled together, like she was moving very quickly, but Kate didn't feel like she was going fast. On the contrary, her heartbeat pounding in her ears was suddenly very loud, and slow. Her limbs were heavy, like she was moving in water—no, molasses.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Kate stumbled at the sudden lightness of her limbs, still off-balance. She had the barest moment to frown at the unusual warmth outside before there was light, and sound, and pain.

Then, darkness.

Kate was nauseous.

Even with her eyes closed, lying completely still, she felt like she was in a small raft on a choppy sea. For several long minutes after she woke, she kept her eyes stubbornly shut, taking deep, calming breaths to settle her stomach. By the time she'd calmed enough to open her eyes, she'd already figured she was in the hospital. What she didn't know, was why. Or where, even. She could see palm trees outside the window.

Feeling oddly giddy—the rational part of Kate, currently buried in the back of her mind, told her that must be the drugs—Kate pressed the call button beside her bed. A nurse appeared shortly after, looking pleased.

"Good morning! Good to see you're finally awake." The nurse began to check her vitals, fiddling with various instruments and marking things down on Kate's chart.

It took Kate a good minute to formulate a question. She was deeply curious about many things at the moment, and all of her questions seemed equally important. She was overthinking every possible phrasing, which meant the nurse had nearly finished his work before Kate managed to force out words.

"What happened?"

The nurse looked up immediately, looking concerned, before seemingly forcing himself to relax and offering Kate a kind, patient smile. "It's totally normal not to remember. You were hit by a car—and you got very lucky. If the driver hadn't swerved at the last moment…" The nurse shook his head, as if to dismiss the thought, and calmly explained to Kate that her left arm and leg were broken. She also had two cracked ribs and a mess-load of bruises, but she didn't appear to have a concussion or any serious internal bleeding. It would take a few months for her bones to heal, but all in all she was doing very well for someone who'd been hit by a car.

Kate's eyes were drooping by the end of the explanation, and the nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. "The drugs we gave you will stop the pain, but they make you drowsy. You just get some more rest, alright? I'll bring the doctor in next time you wake up."

Kate felt like she should protest. Something about snow, and palm trees… but instead she nodded, and fell back to sleep.

When she woke again later and was able to speak to the doctor, she demanded they lower the dose of whatever pain killer they were dosing her with. The doctor was reluctant, but Kate insisted. She'd take pain over a muddled mind any day. She hated the fog the drugs put her mind into, and they made her nauseous besides.

She also learned that she was not in Camwick anymore. She wasn't even in Massachusetts, or even New England.

She was in Florida.

Which explained the palm trees, but not much else. How the hell did she end up in Florida? That was more than a full day's drive away from where she'd left.

Apparently her purse, with all her identification and her phone, had gone under the tires of the car that hit her and had been completely destroyed. Kate had dictated her personal information to the helpful nurse, but the man had frowned in concern and checked her for a concussion when she told him her name and birthdate. When she asked how she had come to be in Florida when last she knew she had been in a museum in Camwick, Massachusetts, he had appeared even more concerned. He'd left for several long minutes, and Kate was able to make out hushed conversation outside the door. When he returned and Kate repeated her questions, she was gently informed that there was no town called Camwick in Massachusetts.

The doctor was baffled, but confirmed that Kate did not have a concussion. There was talk of bringing in another doctor for a psychological evaluation, but before that could happen, the police wanted to speak with her.

Kate did not want to speak to the police. The nurse told her she had to, which she didn't think was true, but the man wheedled and lectured her about it for so long that Kate finally agreed to meet them, if only to tell them in person that she had nothing to say to them.

The nurse was dwarfed by the two men who entered the room, both wearing cheap suits and serious expressions. Kate stared at them, then looked at her IV, wondering if some new drug had been introduced into her regimen. Was she having a reaction?

"Kate Fitzgerald?" The shorter of the two men asked. He and the other man flashed badges, which Kate paid no attention to. "I'm Officer Walsh, this is Officer Steinhardt. We're hoping to ask you a few questions about your accident."

Kate stared, brow furrowed. These two were the spitting images of the guys from Supernatural. Not just look-alikes, either—the real deal. Which was obviously absurd, so Kate ignored him and turned to the nurse.

"I think I'm hallucinating," she informed the nurse. The nurse looked surprised, and exchanged a look with the two men. Which meant he could see them. Was the nurse a hallucination, too? "Or is this a joke…" Kate said aloud, craning her neck around. She couldn't spot any cameras, though.

The Winchester lookalikes exchanged confused looks. The nurse hovered, looking unsure what to do. Sam/''Officer Steinhardt' offered him a small smile and gestured for him to leave, and he did, looking grateful. Kate craned her neck to see into the hallway before the door closed, but it looked empty. No sign of a TV crew waiting to see her reaction to actors from one of her favorite shows. More evidence that this was a drug-induced dream, she supposed.

"Uh, Ms. Fitzgerald? Kate?" Officer Steinhardt/Sam Winchester smiled a gentle, disarming smile, approaching the bed with small steps. Officer Walsh/Dean hung back, letting his partner/brother take the lead. "Are you alright?"

Kate eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then heaved a sigh. Might as well just play along. If it was a joke, it was a joke. If it was a dream, it was a dream. She was tired. "I've got several broken bones, some very impressive bruises, and while the doctors tell me I'm not concussed, at this point I'm not sure if I believe them."

The polite smile held, though Steinhardt/Sam traded a quick glance with his partner/brother. "And why is that?"

It was all too Supernatural for Kate to take. "Yeah, I'm either drugged or brain damaged." She rolled over into her blankets and burrowed into her pillows. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Hang on, we've got questions—"

"And I will answer them in the morning if you still exist," Kate said good-naturedly. "Good night officers."

Unfortunately, the two still existed when Kate woke up. She was beginning to wonder if she was in a coma, or something, and her brain had dropped her into an episode of Supernatural while it tried to clean up a massive hemorrhage or something.

The problem with that logic was that she felt awake. She didn't feel drugged. She could feel her pain clearly and intensely. She knew what if felt like to dream, and this wasn't it. So either dreams in comas were different from other dreams, or she had to consider the possibility that this was real.

She frowned at that thought while the officers Winchester were let back into her room, wondering what to do. After a moment, while the two flashed their badges again and asked if she was ready to answer questions now—probably-Dean looked very irritated at this—she decided to behave as if it was real.

Her reasoning was simple: if she was in a coma, or on a prank show, or the situation was fake in some other way, behaving as if this was real would cost her nothing. Maybe some embarrassment, if it was a prank show, but Kate was not easily embarrassed, and wasn't particularly worried about that.

If, however, this was real, and Kate chose to behave as if it were a dream, or a prank show… things could go very badly very quickly.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you," Kate apologized first. "This whole thing's got me a little confused."

"You thought you were hallucinating," Sam said, voice kind but eyes narrowed curiously. "But only when you saw us. Why?"

Kate blinked, wondering what she would say if she were really in a hospital bed confronted with the Winchester brothers. "Uh. Would you believe me if I said it's because you two are too good-looking to be cops?"

Sam leaned back, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline, and Dean huffed a disbelieving laugh. Sam shook his head after a moment. "No. This might sound crazy, but… do you recognize us?"

Kate blinked, wondering how he'd caught on so quickly. Had multiple Supernatural fans been dumped into this universe. Sam clearly saw the truth in her face, and shot an 'I-told-you-so' look towards Dean.

"How do you know us?" Sam leaned forward eagerly. "When did we meet?"

Kate leaned back, eyeing him warily. "I think you and I are on different wavelengths. Why don't you tell me what you think this conversation is?"

Dean scoffed. "It's not time-travel."

"Then how else did she recognize us?" Sam asked. "And it explains the birthday!"

Kate's brow furrowed. "Birthday?"

"Your birthday," Sam said, as if this should be obvious. "August 18th, 1990?"

He seemed oddly excited by it. Kate couldn't fathom why. "What about it?"

Dean scoffed. "No way that's your real birthday."

"Yes way, that's my real birthday," Kate said, irritated. She hated being called a liar.

"Really?" Dean eyed her face, and then his gaze trailed a little lower before returning. "No offense, but you don't look 18 to me."

Kate looked at her IV again, to make sure she wasn't being drugged. She wasn't. "I shouldn't, considering I'm 27. Are you concussed?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and shot her a bitchy look she was more accustomed to seeing on his brother's face. "If anyone is, you are. 2008 minus 1990 is 18, sweetheart."

Kate couldn't even be pissed at the patronizing tone. "It's 2008?"

Sam grinned triumphantly. Dean spotted it and shook his head at him, "No. No way. Come on, she's lying!"

Sam thought she knew them in the future. She could work with that, she thought. It would excuse some of her knowledge, and she wouldn't have to play dumb about the fact that they were hunters, and not cops.

"What year was it when you got transported?" Sam asked, completely fascinated and ignoring his brother.

"2017."

"Nine years." Sam sounded a little awed. Then, an almost desperate gleam in his eye, Sam asked, "And you know both of us?"

Kate glanced between them uncertainly. "Shouldn't I?"

Dean clenched his jaw. "Alright, that's enough. Joke's over," he said to Sam, then turned on Kate, glaring. "If you know so much about us, you should know our names. What are they?"

Kate scanned Dean's form cautiously before answering, wondering if the twitching hand on his knee was close to a hidden gun or knife. "Sam and Dean Winchester," she said finally, still eyeing Dean warily. Dean looked vaguely surprised at the answer. Sam did not, and Kate did not feel the need to disillusion him.

"Okay, fine. There's lots of ways you could know that," Dean seemed to direct that last bit more at Sam than Kate. "Tell us something that proves you know us."

"Um." Kate hesitated, and didn't like the look of malicious triumph in Dean's eyes. Did he think she was a monster? Kate was willing to bet money that Dean thought she was a monster. "Give me a second to think of something that's not common knowledge," she said, to buy time, and then thought.

It took her a few minutes to come up with good ones that she was sure she remembered correctly. "Uh. When Sam was a kid, he crammed an army man into the ashtray in the Impala, and it's still stuck there."

They both stared. Sam looked like he'd missed a step coming down the stairs. Kate guessed he hadn't thought she knew them that well. It was such a minute detail to remember. But then, Sam didn't know that he hadn't been the one to tell her.

Dean's expression, Kate couldn't read. He cleared his throat, and almost hesitantly said, "Okay, do me."

Kate quirked an eyebrow, but let the unintended innuendo pass. It didn't seem the right moment to point it out. "When you were a teenager, a girl made you try on her panties."

Dean's face flushed, and Sam coughed. In a higher voice than usual, Dean demanded, "How do you know us?"

Kate frowned, leaning back in her hospital bed. "I think it would be best that I didn't tell you. Time travel, paradoxes…"

She might as well have slapped Sam, from the look he was giving her. "But there's gotta be stuff you can tell us. Dean's time is running out, but if you know the both of us, that must mean we find a way to save him. Right?"

Kate looked between the two of them uncertainly. Sam looked like Kate contained all the answers to the universe. Dean looked pained but hopeful, like he'd slammed his hand in a door but still had hope that it wasn't broken. And if this was 2008…

Oh.

"You mean save Dean from going to Hell," Kate guessed, voice soft.

She didn't know a way to stop it. And even if she could, should she? It was the first step to kickstarting the apocalypse. If they stopped it, they might avoid every bad thing that followed. Lucifer's release, Sam getting trapped in the cage… everything.

If they could stop it.

When everyone who was anyone in both Heaven and Hell was pushing for the apocalypse to happen, Kate didn't think they could. Stop the apocalypse, yes. Eventually, like she'd seen in the show. But stop Dean from going to Hell…

"I don't know how to stop it," Kate said finally, apologetically.

Dean's eyes were dark. "That was an awful lot of thinking for 'I don't know,'" he growled, voice low.

"I was thinking about what might changed if you managed it," Kate said defensively. Dean's eyes widened, and Kate cursed when she realized her phrasing.

"So we don't manage it." His eyes were worse than dark. They were dead. Hopeless.

Kate's head felt heavy, but she shook it anyway. No, they didn't manage it.

"But you know us," Sam protested, desperate. "Both of us! Even I didn't know the—the thing about Dean."

"I can't tell you how," Kate said simply.

"Can't, or won't?" Dean asked, voice hollow.

Kate regarded him with pity. "I won't tell you how," she corrected.

Sam started to protest, to try to reason with her. Kate thought, given enough time to argue his case and implore her with his huge puppy-dog eyes, he might have succeeded. Luckily for all involved, Dean cut his brother off. "Leave it, Sammy. She's not gonna talk." Dean leaned back in his chair, slowly releasing a long breath. "Will you at least tell us how you got here? All we got is video of you appearing in the middle of the road on CCTV."

This, Kate was happy enough to tell them. Maybe they could help her get back. "I fell through a mirror in a kitschy museum in a small town in Massachusetts, which the nurse here has informed me does not exist. The town, not Massachusetts," she clarified at the end, before Sam could open his mouth to ask.

"What was the name of the town?" Kate told him. He dug out a pad of pen and paper and asked her to spell it for him.

"You said you were in a museum?" Dean asked while Sam scribbled.

"Camwick's House of Curiosities," Kate sighed. It had ended up being curious, indeed. And it just got curiouser and curiouser. "Just one of those cheap, small-town tourist traps. You know, antlers on rabbits, Fiji mermaids, that sort of thing."

"Did anything seem odd?" Sam was looking at her earnestly. Kate gave him a dry look.

"You heard the bit about antlers on rabbits, right? Odd was the attraction." Sam's face fell, and Kate sighed. "But…"

"But what?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Well. the mirror I fell through was a little odd… in that it wasn't odd?" Kate recounted her attempt to leave the museum, the mirror that had caught her eye, and the plaque below it. "I thought it was funny. Then I felt someone knock into me from behind, braced myself to hit the mirror, and the next thing I know I'm being hit by a car."

The boys shared a significant look. Kate wondered if they thought they were being subtle. They weren't.

"Anything else?" Sam prompted. "Any cold spots? Strange smells?"

"Nope."

"Cursed object?" Dean guessed.

"Could be," Sam said, though he sounded doubtful. "To be honest I'm more concerned about the town that doesn't exist."

"Right." Dean paused. "Cursed town?"

"Dean."

Kate couldn't help snickering at the exchange. The two looked at her in unison, Dean arching an eyebrow, Sam's brows furrowing. "Sorry. You're just such… brothers."

They both smiled a little at that, but then Sam frowned thoughtfully at Kate. "What are we gonna do with you?"

Kate's eyebrows rose. "Do you want to try that again?"

Sam grimaced apologetically. "Sorry. It's just, if you're from the future, we can't just… leave you in the hospital here. We need to figure out how to get you back."

This was a line of conversation Kate approved of. Of all the books, movies, and TV shows she loved, the only one she would be less interested in being dropped into was Middle Earth. Not because she didn't love those worlds—it was just that they were both full of monsters who were likely to kill her, especially if they found out precisely what she knew about future events.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Dean asked skeptically. "Put her in the car and drive around Massachusetts until we find a town that doesn't exist? Even if we could, she's all broken."

"I can hear, you know."

Dean shot her an impatient look. "All I'm saying is you're in no condition to be falling through any more mirrors."

He had a point. Kate grimaced at the casts on her arm and leg. They'd take months to heal, and they'd be weak for weeks afterwards. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Then we find this mirror," Sam said stubbornly. "And bring it to her."

Kate's shoulders sagged. There was no way they'd find the mirror among all the other mirrors in the country. It looked just like any other mirror, nothing special about it but the plaque in the museum. The museum in the town which didn't exist.

"I'm going to be stuck," Kate realized, horror dawning. Wasn't she just thinking about how dangerous this world was? And arguably, one of the most dangerous places to be in this dangerous world was anywhere near a Winchester. "I'm going to die."

"You're not gonna die, you big baby," Dean dismissed with a roll of his eyes. "Look, worst comes to worst, if we can't find the mirror, we can take her to Bobby's. He can keep her out of the way, let her wait it out until she catches up with the time she left."

"Which is nine years from now, Dean," Sam said, incredulous.

"I cannot even explain how terrible of an idea that is," Kate said, pressing her fingers to the knot of tension building between her brows.

"Can't, or won't?" Dean asked again. Kate scowled at him.

"I will not even explain how terrible of an idea that is."

Dean clapped, faux cheerily. "Well since you won't explain, that settles it. Sam, you look up the mirror. Bobby's the back-up plan, once gimpy here gets out of the hospital."

Kate didn't bother protesting as the Winchesters left, staring at her casts and wondering how the hell she was going to get herself out of this mess.

By the next evening, Kate had a plan. And now was the time to do it.

Sam and Dean had stopped by in the afternoon, bringing with them a smuggled burger and fries that Kate devoured impressively fast for all that she could only use one hand. Dean's excuse for the visit was that hospital food was crap. Kate guessed he was tired of looking at pictures of identical mirrors, but she'd happily accept the burger if it made him feel better.

The Winchesters didn't say when they'd be back, but Kate was worried they might walk in any minute to update her on their progress researching the mirror. She waited until the nurse had cleared away the remains of her dinner and glanced at the door nervously one last time before she clasped her hands as much as she was able with her left arm in a cast, and prayed.

"Um. Dear Metatron. I don't know if you get a lot of prayers, but this is me, praying for you. I know who you are, and where you are, even, and I'd bring this conversation to you except I'm in a hospital in Florida with a bunch of broken bones." The hospital room was empty and unchanged. Kate felt ridiculous talking out loud to herself, but pressed on. "I could really use your help. I've been in a bit of a magic-related accident, I think, and I'm stranded here. I think you could help me get home. And I think maybe I could help you, too."

Kate glanced around the still-empty hospital room and sighed heavily, unclasping her hands and letting her right one thud to the mattress. "Well, that was a bust. Guess I'll have to try another angel…"

She really didn't want to have to reach out to Gabriel, but he was her back-up plan. She wondered if he'd even answer if she prayed to him...

"No need."

Kate's head jerked up from her examination of the beige hospital blanket. There, in her hospital room, was Metatron. 5 foot, 4 inches, fluffy hair, a thick cardigan, and a shotgun. He held the gun steadily, eyes hard and suspicious. "How do you know me?"

Kate's mouth was dry. How was this real life? If it even was real life… "Long story."

One of Metatron's eyebrows ticked, but otherwise he didn't react. "Who are you working for? Michael?"

"I'm not working for anybody," Kate said tiredly. She was suddenly exhausted. She'd hoped that Metatron would hear her prayer and answer her, but now that he was here she was faced with the daunting prospect of actually telling him… well. Kate wasn't sure precisely how much to tell him. But there was no sense burying the lede on the main point. "I'm from an alternate dimension where the events of this dimension are a television show."

Metatron lowered the shotgun, but he looked distinctly unimpressed. "That's what you're going with?"

Kate huffed a short laugh. "Look, if I was going to lie to you, don't you think I'd come up with something more believable?" After a moment of suffering Metatron's still-skeptical gaze, she added, "Can't angels sense when they're being lied to?"

"For the most part." Metatron hesitated, glancing around the hospital room suspiciously for a moment before the shotgun disappeared from his hands and he approached Kate's prone form in the bed. His eyes skimmed over her injuries blankly, reminding Kate that this angel was truly an angel, and that no matter how much he'd read, his empathy for humans and their suffering was limited. Nerves twisted in her gut as Metatron's eyes landed on her face. "Easy way to find out."

He pressed two fingers to Kate's temple. She couldn't feel his presence in her mind, just the warm press of his fingers against her skin. There was no telling how much he might see of this world and future events in her mind, and so she focused on the details of how she'd come to be here, along with memories of her watching the show.

After a moment, Metatron drew away, yanking his fingers away from her temple with a frown. "You're not lying." Kate couldn't tell from his tone of voice how he felt about that.

"I'm not," Kate confirmed, for lack of anything else to say. What did one say in a situation like this?

"And you want my help getting back," Metatron guessed easily.

"Yes."

"But you said you could help me." Metatron said, looking partly curious, partly disbelieving.

Kate mulled over how to phrase it for a moment. "I know almost all of what's going to happen in the next decade, including the apocalypse and your death."

Everything went white. Kate slammed her eyes shut, then hesitantly opened them and blinked away the spots in her vision. She was no longer in the hospital room, but in a vaguely familiar space, surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. She had been deposited in a plush armchair, and she groaned as her broken bones twinged in protest at the loss of support and rapid change in position.

"Ow," she groused at Metatron grumpily, hissing and gingerly trying to arrange her broken body into a more comfortable sitting position. The limbs throbbed, and Kate was sorely missing the pain medication she'd rejected.

Metatron rolled his eyes and pressed two fingers to her temple once again. A brief moment of searing heat later and her broken bones were healed, her casts gone. Metatron walked a few feet and sank into another armchair before Kate could even thank him and gestured at her impatiently. "Well? Get on with the story."

"Thank you," Kate said first, because it was the polite thing to do when someone healed in seconds what would have taken months to mend on her own. Metatron kicked up his feet onto a footrest without acknowledging her words, and Kate cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, before I start, I should tell you that I've arranged for the main points of what I'm about to tell you to be delivered to someone else should anything happen to me."

This was true. She's borrowed Sam's laptop in the hospital and pecked at it one-handedly for almost an hour, arranging all of the information to be sent to Bobby Singer in the event something should happen to her, and then spending almost as much time clearing her history and everything she'd done so Sam couldn't snoop and see what she'd done. He'd looked quite crestfallen when he'd clicked through his laptop and seen how thoroughly she'd covered her tracks.

Metatron eyebrows rose for a brief moment, then sank down. He eyed her posture curiously. "You think I might hurt you," he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. Not, Kate thought, at the notion that he might hurt her, but rather that she would have called out to him for help if she thought that.

Kate chose to ignore the statement, not feeling like explaining her reasoning at this point. It would become clear when she told the story. "A good deal of what's going to happen is preventable, but on the off chance that you aren't inclined to prevent it, I wanted to make sure someone else could."

Metatron looked like he wasn't quite sure whether or not to be insulted. After a moment he shook his head and gestured at her again. "Well then? What's going to happen?"

And so Kate told him. Mostly, anyway. About the start of the apocalypse. About Heaven and Hell pushing for Lucifer and Michael to finally fight, and their plans being disrupted by the Winchesters. About the subsequent civil war in heaven. About Castiel and his alliance with Crowley, opening Purgatory, and releasing the Leviathans. About the tablets he'd written re-surfacing. She also told him in broad stroked about power struggles in Heaven, doing her best to leave out his involvement in those events and skipping entirely over him casting the angels out of Heaven and trying to become God. She instead told him about Abaddon, about Dean taking on the Mark of Cain and then removing it, releasing the Darkness. About Lucifer's release, God's brief return and then departure, and Metatron's own death in an attempt to save Lucifer, and the hope for humanity.

Metatron, for his part, did not interrupt. He listened with dark, thoughtful eyes, hands laced under his chin and absorbing Kate's words. When she'd finished her tale, he surveyed her silently for long minutes while Kate shifted nervously, unsure what his reaction would be.

Finally, Metatron spoke, again sounding merely curious. "Why on Earth did you come to me?" Kate blinked. She'd expected questions, but not that one. Not at first, anyway. Seeing her surprise, Metatron added, "You don't trust me. Even now, you're afraid I might kill you. So why come to me at all? Why not Castiel, or the Winchesters? Why tell me any of this?"

Kate shrugged, curling up in the armchair and wrapping her arms around her legs. The room was chilly, and unlike Metatron in his cozy, thick cardigan, she was dressed in only a hospital gown. She ticked off the various options she'd considered on her hands as she spoke.

"Castiel is currently being a good little soldier, unaware that he's working to bring about the apocalypse. Being around Sam and Dean would probably get me killed. I did think about approaching Gabriel, but at this point I think he's pro-apocalypse. He's too powerful for me to risk handing over this information and just hoping he still changes his mind—he might decide to stop Sam and Dean. Frankly, you seemed like the safest option." Kate glanced up from her fingers. Metatron's shoulders were slumped and he was frowning at a spot somewhere over her shoulder.

"And," she continued, purposely catching his eye, "out of all the characters," she paused, then corrected, "people in this messed-up universe, you're the one I most relate to. So I'm hoping you'll help."

"Help how, exactly?" Metatron sounded tired.

"Aside from getting me home?" Kate asked lightly. "Rewriting the story, of course."

Metatron stared at her like he was only just now seeing her for the first time. "You want me to help you meddle with fate." Kate couldn't tell how he felt about it from his tone of voice.

"Well, as I understand it, fate doesn't play much of a role in events once the apocalypse is averted," Kate hedged. "So it's more like I want you to help stop some easily preventable disasters and save a bunch of humans and most of the angels in Heaven in the process."

Metatron's brows shot up. "Why would you think I'd want to save the angels?"

Kate chewed her lip for a moment. Answering honestly would probably come off as rude, she thought. After some quick thinking, she did what she always did in these situations: told the truth anyway, regardless of consequences.

"I think that you love your family. You miss them, and Heaven. You would never have left if you hadn't been forced to, and while you've spent hundreds of years hidden away, reading our stories, you still can't get over the fact that we're human, and you'll never really feel like you belong among us. And I think you crave Heaven's recognition and acceptance and approval too much to do nothing when an opportunity like this is presented to you."

Metatron had stood, slowly, halfway through Kate's speech, a scowl growing on his face. For all that his vessel couldn't have been more than 5'4", he looked taller than that, and the air in the room felt heavy. While Metatron had never been a warrior, he was still an angel, and the unsettling charge in the air reminded Kate that he didn't need to be a soldier to be dangerous.

"Don't you pretend to know me," he warned, voice quiet and grave.

Kate swallowed and decided to press her luck. "I don't think you'd be quite so angry with me if that wasn't true."

Metatron drew himself up, eyes flashing, and Kate flinched backwards instinctively. The movement seemed to surprise Metatron out of whatever wrath he was about to exact. Instead he offered Kate something between a smile and a grimace and said, "Let me sleep on it."

Before Kate could frown and ask him what he meant because angels don't sleep, he'd pressed his fingers to her temple once more and she was out like a light.