Three weeks of this. Three weeks of fleeing or chasing, Dean couldn't really say. But Chuck kept creating monster mash parties and Sam kept tracking them with his whatever pendant thing from Rowena's stash, and they kept not using the kid, who could've waved his hand, glowed up his eyes and finished these fucking brutality Olympics in about 10 seconds.

But Sam and Cas kept telling him, "If we use Jack, Chuck will know he's back and we lose our advantage."

Oh, okay. Our advantage can't be used, even though it's a pretty goddamn big advantage, so we'll just keep doing these non-stop-nearly-impossibly-death-defying hunts, and save up that 'big advantage.'

Supposedly, Cas and Jack were doing some recon of their own, to try and hatch some workable plan with Billie that didn't create a dead world if God were taken off the board. It had been about ten days since they'd heard anything from them.

Dean fought the need to close his eyes, just for five frickin' seconds, which, okay, bad idea seeing as he was aiming Baby down the two-lane at about 70 mph, so he glanced to his right, as always, to get some equilibrium from the sight of Sam next to him. The laptop was open, and Sam was typing something. More to keep himself awake than actually caring what Sam was doing, Dean asked, "What you got?"

Sam sighed, didn't look up. "A crick in my neck and some pretty serious b.o. You?"

Dean huffed out a chuckle. "Same. Plus a blister on my trigger finger and what I'm pretty sure is a sprained ankle."

Sam looked over at him. "Dean. I told you to wrap that ankle. I also told you I'd drive so you could elevate it…"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Just like I told you to put a sling on that shoulder and ice on the crack in your skull from being tossed into that cement wall, what, three days ago?"

Sam laughed suddenly. "We're so tough."

Dean smiled. "One thing the Winchesters know how to do is cowboy up!"

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He closed the laptop, rested his head against the seat and looked out the window.

Dean said, "20 miles to Big Piney, Wyoming."

Sam watched the scrubby hills around them.

Dean noted the cows milling in a field on their right. "Cows, man. Just stand around a field all day and eat. What a life."

Sam said, "We would've been awesome cowboys."

Dean considered. "You think?"

"Yeah. Riding horses over the range, sleeping outside, making cook fires."

"You do know that it isn't 1870, right? I doubt they sleep outside and make 'cook fires,' Zane Grey. More like, RV's and semi-trucks. But still, lots of time on the road, I guess. Which, you know, we're more than used to."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. But, maybe Colorado? Or Texas? Wyoming is pretty desolate. It feels like only about 12 people actually live here."

"Let's do Texas. Get a spread, build a bunkhouse for all the hunters who need a place to chill out between jobs."

"Yeah."

The quiet fell between them and Dean pictured it for a while. Low hills, open fields, pine trees in the distance. A sturdy house, maybe a river nearby where they could fish and relax. Living in the bunker was okay, but being underground all the time only reinforced the fact that they were basically in danger 24/7. What would it be like to have sunlight and screen doors and a dusty breeze every morning while you drank your coffee on the porch?

Sam pulled the pendant from his pocket.

A white-blue light was pulsing weakly. Sam sighed. "Shit. He's closer than Big Piney."

Dean looked out on the sunny day. "Don't suppose we'll get a chance to sleep for like, five minutes, before we're knee deep in ghouls or vamps or some shit, will we?"

Sam kept his gaze out the window. "Dean. We can't do this much longer. We barely made it out of Louisiana alive. We should talk about the offer he made."

Dean's exhaustion fled, as anger and frustration filled him. "Sam, no. If you tell me one more time that you sacrificing yourself is worth the end of monsters, then save it. Cause I'll tell you the same thing, which is to take that plan and shove it, and then we'll be right back where we started."

Sam's body tightened up. Dean didn't even have to look at him to feel it. He clearly wanted another round of their 'Let me die so you and the planet can live' argument. But, Dean was too tired. "Look. First of all, can we even trust what Chuck is promising? One of us kills the other and he takes all the monsters from earth? Really? And second, both of us dying nullifies the deal? I mean, all this time, we've resisted the roles all the angels and demons tried their damnedest to get us to play. And now, now you want to play along? No. Just…no, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, if one of us dies in one these hunts, that's it. We go to the empty and it's over. But, if we take Chuck's offer, I go to heaven, and so do you, eventually. He'll nullify the empty. Isn't that worth it?"

Dean hated this conversation. They'd had it for a month, in various degrees of volume and variety, and still, he resisted Chuck's great deal. He couldn't articulate why other than to say, over and over, that all his instincts, which had gotten him this far, told him to resist it.

"Sam, it's not right. Something about it, can't you feel it? It's too easy. It's too simple. Chuck wants us to kill each other, for his fucking entertainment. There's something off. I may not be able to say exactly what it is, but, it's off."

Sam grit his teeth. "Okay, yes. It's for his entertainment. So what? If he does what he's offered, we can rid the world of monsters! He can actually do that. Dean, that's everything we've fought for since we could walk and aim a gun. Isn't that worth it?"

Dean reached for his patience. "Is it worth me putting a bullet in your head? Or, you putting one in mine? You tell me, Sam. Is entertaining God, Chuck, whatever, worth that? What will it do to my soul, or to yours? How do we know that doesn't buy us a ticket to hell, hmm? I'll take the empty over hell, even with Rowena as queen. Because I've been to hell, goddamn it, and I'm not going back."

Sam nodded. "I know. I. I don't want to go back, either. I mean, I really don't. But, this trying to stay one step ahead of God, who is fucking all-seeing and all-knowing, is not sustainable. We will get killed, and probably soon. And, being brought back to life is no longer an option, as Billie has told us. So, you tell me what we should do? Just die in some nest of God-charged werewolves and have it mean nothing?"

Dean's anger surged. "Remember when I wanted to go into the Malick Box? It was the only way I could protect the world from Michael? All I'd have to do is live, forever, in a box on the bottom of the ocean. I accepted that. I was ready for that. And, if I recall, somebody disagreed with me. Somebody punched me out for not being willing to fight, to find another solution. Because he believed in us, he said. He believed we would find a better way, if we just kept fighting. Do you remember that, Sam? Or, was that just bullshit you were spewing?"

Sam unclenched his jaw and took a couple calming breaths. "No. No, it wasn't just bullshit."

Dean nodded. "And we found another way. Well, a concussion and Jack's powers found another way, but you get my point."

"Yeah."

"We go down swinging, Sammy. We don't play their game. We play ours. Same as always."

"Butch and Sundance."

"Butch and Sundance."

Ten minutes later, the car quit. The sudden cloud cover and drop in temperature sort of gave a hint. Dean steered her to the shoulder of the road. "If some sleepy trucker clips my Baby as he drives by…"

Sam pointed straight ahead. "We've got bigger problems, Dean."

Coming down the road were about 100 what-looked-like people, but who knows what the hell they were? Dean opened the car door. "Let's go."

They met at the trunk. Dean picked up the grenade launcher. "Let's see how mortal these things are, first."

He climbed up on the front hood and stood up. His left foot already leaving a dent. "Sorry, Baby. I'll make it up to you." He aimed at the approaching group, and let the grenade fly.

It blasted an explosion right into the middle of the troupe. They scattered. All was still for a long minute, then, one by one, even the ones now missing limbs, and sporting gaping wounds in their heads and torsos, started moving again. The ones that could walk, came forward. The ones that couldn't, crawled.

Sam sighed. "I'll get the holy water and Ruby's knife, you get the silver witch-killing bullets and we'll see what works?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But there's one freak you forgot." Dean sliced his palm.

The mangled group was about 30 feet away now. Dean painted the angel-banishing symbol in his dripping blood right on the side of the Impala. He slammed his hand into it, and the group disappeared in a white-hot flash.

Sam said, "Angels? Huh. Did not see that coming."

"Easiest for Chuck to control. They're his oldest creation, right?"

Sam looked over, smiled his rare delighted-little-boy smile. "Nice work."

Dean shrugged. "I need some sleep, like, yesterday. Let's see if banishing Chuck's little war game helps the car live again."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds good."

And, just like that, Dean's hopelessness weakened just enough to let him actually smile in return.

They both slept for 12 hours. When Dean opened his eyes, Jack sat on Sam's bed, and Cas on his. Sam stirred when Cas said, "Hello, Dean."

Dean said, "Did you bring coffee?"

Jack held up a Dunkin Donuts bag. "And a variety of doughnuts."

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, told himself to wake up. "Okay, you can stay."

Sam rolled over and got up. He pat Jack on the back and said, "Morning," then disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower came on and Dean gestured for the bag. "Gimme."

By the time he'd started on his second cup of coffee, he felt more human. Sam came out of the bathroom in a towel, and sat on his bed. Jack handed him his coffee, full of cream and sugar, with a smile. "Good morning, Sam."

Sam sipped. "Tastes good. How are you guys?"

Cas said, "We believe we have something that can be useful."

Dean bit into a Boston Cream. "Useful how?"

Jack stood up, retrieved the backpack he'd placed on their dinette table. "It's kind of a cosmic neutralizer."

Sam also got up, went to his duffle to pull out some clothes. "A what?"

Cas said, "Billie told us about some ancient texts, written on animal skin – it turned out to be a dinosaur, which, I suppose contradicts human's timeline that -"

Dean sipped more coffee, gave Cas the get on with it hand roll.

"Yes. Well. The text appears, if my hyroglyphics vocabulary is reliable, to show God being put to sleep by the fruit of a tree growing in the Oracle."

Sam and Dean looked at him with blank expressions.

Cas seemed disappointed. "The Oracle? The garden of knowledge?"

Sam's eyebrows went up. Dean sipped more coffee. Jack took another doughnut out of the Dunkin bag.

Cas threw up his hands. "Jack I can understand, he's only three. But, you two have never heard of the Oracle?"

Sam sighed. "Why don't you just explain what it is, and whether or not we can get there."

"I believe the Oracle was a place on earth, and no, I don't believe it still exists."

Sam shook his head and pulled on some jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and took another too-large bite from his doughnut.

"Neither of you seem to welcome this news with the enthusiasm I'd predicted."

Dean rubbed his face. "Cas. What good does some ancient cartoon do us if we can't even get to this place or this fruit of the tree of whatever? I still think we get Chuck in front of Jack and let Jack just do his thing."

Sam pulled on a hoodie. "We still don't know what it will do to Jack if he tries to off Chuck. There's got to be some kind of cosmic payment. And where is Billie, anyway? We've tried summoning her and – nothing. It feels like we just keep spinning our wheels. Like, the only thing we can do is not die while Chuck recruits or creates more and more monsters to kill us."

Jack holds up what looks like an apple. "Pomegranate."

Sam tilts his head. "Huh?"

Cas smiles. "We believe, based on the hieroglyphic, that Amara did something to the fruit as a sort of prank on her brother. We don't think Chuck is aware."

Jack tossed the pomegranate to Sam, who caught it easily. "We think, and Billie agrees, if we can get him to sleep, or at least that's what the picture painting implies, I can get to him without harm to myself."

Sam nodded. "If it's the same fruit."

Dean said, "And, if it still puts him to sleep."

Jack smiled and nodded. "Exactly."

Dean finished his donut. "Great. So, somehow, we've got to get God to eat a pomegranate."

Sam laughed. "Which should be super easy."

Dean said, "I remember when hunting was weapons and stealth and training."

A heaviness of air punched through the room.

Amara stood in the center of the room, her black dress still billowing from her journey. She looked right at Dean. "Hello, Dean."

Sam came close, tried to stand in front of Dean, who then pushed him back. They jostled for a moment.

Amara rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to do anything harmful. I now try to only employ the darkness where I deem it the best option to cancel out something more hurtful. I'm here because I've been tracking Castiel's grace. I visited the same shaman after you left. He told me about the glyph, and about your interpretation of it. I'm here to tell you, one, if you kill my brother, I'll destroy the earth as you know it. And, two. How dumb are you to believe a pomegranate could do anything to God? It was a joke, before Metatron left heaven, he liked to come down to earth and tell his stories to the ignorant masses. He had no patience for their signing and grunting, so he started drawing them, like picture books, to entertain them and himself. He thought it would be funny if I could give God a snack that made him comatose. Grimm used it recently, in a Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or, I can't recall the one." She smiled. "There really are only seven stories in the world, being re-told again and again."

Cas looked grim and, honestly, embarrassed. "A fairy tale for the amusement of the Neanderthals. Of course. It did seem to strain credulity."

She turned to Jack. "I'm your great aunt, Amara."

Jack lifted his hand and waved. "Hello."

"How fascinating you are. Jack, is it?"

Cas moved to stand in front of Jack. "We've heard your warning. You may depart, now."

Amara took a step closer to Jack and all three of the others moved closer to him.

She looked between them. "As I said, 'fascinating.'"

Sam said, "Amara, can't you talk to him? Get him to stop this crazy game he's playing? He's destroying worlds and killing so many people, it's got to stop."

She smiled. "Does it? Why?"

Dean gave her his most imploring look. "It's not his right. He's set this all up and we were meant to figure things out on our own for millennia. He's breaking his own rules with his interference."

She looked thoughtful. "Maybe. But, if he wrote the rules, can't he change them? You boys do it often enough, don't you?"

Dean took a step closer. "This isn't the balance he set up. He's having a cosmic temper tantrum and people are dying."

She nodded. "Yes. It is annoying. Tedious, when he's trying to take over my territory. Well. I'll think about it. In the meantime, he may be irritating, but he is my only family. If you hurt him, I'll not only pick up where he left off, but I'll be worse. Much worse."

She disappeared. The air felt lighter in her absence.

Sam sat on his bed. "Well, that was unexpected."

Jack held up the pomegranate. "So, we don't need this, right?"

Sam held the crystal pendant over the bowl. He measured the herbs, tipped in what was left of Gabriel's vile of grace, and said the words: "Ostende mihi opus Deus." Show me God's work. The crystal vibrated, started to glimmer, and then a white-blue light shot up, creating an image of a town, a diner – Bill's Café – road signs: Sycamore Street, Harmon Ave, and dark clouds over a group of "people" moving through the woods. The light flickered as the herbs burned off. Sam wrote down on his pad what he'd seen. He then went to the laptop to look for Bill's Café on Sycamore Street. Wichita Falls, Kansas.

Dean came in with food and a six pack. He limped over to the table and started to unpack Chinese food.

Sam wasn't hungry, but knew he should eat. He held up the pad. "Wichita Falls."

Dean sighed. "Well, at least it's close to home and we can do some fucking laundry."

Sam sat back. "Dean. We have to do something."

"We are doing something."

"No, I mean, we have to talk to Chuck."

"Jesus, Sammy. This again? We've been over it 100 times. I'm not taking Chuck's suck-tastic deal and neither are you."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, okay. But, this non-stop fighting to stop his destruction is stupid. And it's only gonna get worse. We have to talk to him."

"Talk to him with Jack hiding the closet, you mean? Finally smite his ass and get this over with? Cause I'm up for that." He shoved a container at Sam. "Eat."

Sam pushed the food around.

Dean lifted an eyebrow at him.

Sam huffed, but took a bite.

Dean nodded, sat down and started forking up the sesame beef.

Sam tried again. "Dean. We can't smite God. Amara already took that off the table."

"Then why are we bothering hiding Jack? He can go on God's scavenger hunt of evil and be home in time for dinner."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. But, I think we should try to talk to Chuck, first. He hasn't always been like this, you know?"

Dean ate. "Yeah. I used to sort of like the guy."

"Maybe we can reach that part of him? Like, try to get him to calm down and stop all this destruction? Remind him what it's like to create instead of destroy? Appeal to the better angel of his nature?"

"I don't know, Sammy. He seems pretty set on this whole 'one of us kills the other' as the only thing that will make him stop."

"I just, I remember starting thinking about Dad, you know? Like, he would get so stubborn and set on being a total asshole, because, the hunt! And Saving People! And I'm the Father, you will do as I say! But, when we talked to the dad in him, instead of the Marine, sometimes he'd get that look. That, 'oh yeah, these are my boys,' look. And, he'd smile, and let down a little. Let us sleep in or go to a movie with us."

Dean smiled softly. "Yeah. You played that card particularly well, with your 'come on, dad, pleeaaase' face."

"I'm just saying, Chuck started out as a dad, right? Like, he wanted a family, loved humans, even over his own children. Maybe there's some of that still in him?"

"Remind him he used to love humans, you mean?"

Sam nodded. "It's always worked for us. When nothing else works, play the family card. Lead with trust and gratitude. It has a way of putting out the fire of temper and confusion and anger. Even when I was crazy on demon blood, you could always reach me when you reminded me we were family, you know?"

"Yeah. It kinda worked on me when I was a demon, even if I did to kill you with a hammer."

Sam snorted. "Well, I mean, I let you become a vamp when I was soulless."

Dean laughed. "And I wanted to rip your guts out when I was Michael."

Sam laughed. "I punched you out to remind you we were brothers, god damnit!"

Dean laughed harder. "I locked you in Bobby's panic room because we're family, you fuck head!"

Sam leaned back in his chair, laughing. "Family is always the answer!"

Dean wiped tears of laughter. "You think we should call Chuck Grandpa or something?"

"Uncle Chuck?"

"Papa?"

Sam pulled off a wobbly version of the Yentl soundtrack, "Papa can you hear me?"

Dean held up a hand, and said, through his guffaws, "Please don't sing!"

Sam nodded, bent over and dropped his fork.

It took them 10 minutes to calm down and get serious enough to come up with a plan.

Cas, as expected, was not a fan of their plan. He said, "No. It's too dangerous for Jack."

Jack, looking at Dean and ignoring Cas, said, "I'll do it."

Cas turned to him, then back to Sam and Dean, who both stood with their arms folded against their chests.

Sam said, "Cas, Jack will be safe. All he has to do is use his powers and then you can take him and hide him somewhere. We don't need him once Chuck shows up. Just, to show some of our hand and get his attention. If he knows Jack is back, he'll have to listen to us. I think he's a little afraid of you, Jack."

Cas looked about as exasperated as his unexpressive face could look. "Once God knows Jack is alive, you think he'll just sit down for a chat with the two of you instead of wreaking havoc on the world until he finds him?"

Dean smiled insincerely. "He won't be able to resist. We're his favorites."

Cas rolled his eyes.

Jack said, "Castiel, I've got to act sometime. This back and forth, with God killing people and creating more and more monsters, is not sustainable."

Sam threw up his arms. "That's what I said!"

Jack said, "I can get to Wichita Falls now, extinguish the litter of werewolves, and be back here in a few minutes."

Dean eyes went wide. "Just, zoom, take them out, and zoom, back here? How strong are you, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "I've got my full powers, and perhaps a little extra, as Billie wanted me as strong as possible to confront my grandfather. Believe me, eating angel hearts is not pleasant. I only did it because she said it was the only way to get strong enough."

He looked back at Castiel. "Since I'm half angel, is that considered cannibalism?"

Cas sighed. "We'll call it extenuating circumstances and not dwell on it."

Sam exchanged a long look with Dean. You ready for this?

Dean shrugged, Ready as I ever am to talk with God.

Sam nodded. To Jack he said, "Remember, as soon as you take care of the werewolves, get out of there. Go someplace God can't find you. Cas, you have some ideas?"

Cas nodded, "I thought to-"

Dean held up his hand. "Nope, don't want to know. If we don't know, God can't get it out of us."

Jack looked among all three of them. "So, should I? Right now?"

Sam looked at him a moment, then walked over to embrace him. "Be careful. And, if something goes sideways, and Chuck freaks out or smites us or something, then, take care of each other, hmm? Try to help out the world as much as you can, and just, stay safe."

Jack nodded. "I will. Of course. But, you said you were just going to talk."

Sam shrugged, looked abashed. "If I don't do it, and something happens, I'll regret it. But, nothing's going to happen."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he also went to Jack, gave him a brief hug. "Okay. Do what we taught you, kid. It's good to know the Winchester legacy will live on if we don't."

Cas sighed. "Why do so many of our plans end in trying to come up with last words?"

Sam looked at Cas. "You take care of him, and of yourself, you hear?"

Cas nodded. "Yes. I hear you. I don't care for any of this, but perhaps Chuck, God, will surprise me and we'll see you back at the bunker." He embraced Sam. Then, turned to Dean, "You will not act recklessly, I'm sure. Remember that God is, ultimately, the author of creation. He wanted humans to be his greatest achievement. Convince him he was correct to put his faith in you and your fellow humans?"

Dean hugged him. "Don't worry. I'm a smooth talker. We'll bring him around." He stepped back. "Okay, enough with all this gooey stuff. Go get the job done. We'll do the same. See you back at the bunker when it's done."

Sam nodded. "Back at the bunker."

Jack nodded.

They all stood looking at each other.

Jack said, "I don't want to go. It feels too much like goodbye. I don't like that feeling. At all."

Dean smiled. "You know the job, Jack. We do what it takes. And so will you, no matter what happens to us. You got that?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. I won't let you down. I'll remember everything you both taught me."

Cas put his hand on Jack's shoulder, but kept his eyes on Sam and Dean. "Don't be reckless. I'd like to keep this family together."

And they both disappeared.

Dean turned to Sam. "Okay, let's get ready for our little chit chat with God."