RENEGADE "ANGEL"

Back in Black, PART III

Bobby opened the door, and waved Cordelia through. She shook her head frantically, already taking a step back—

    "Bobby? That you?"

    Sam?

    A very tall figure came around the corner. "Bobby, Dean's gone out on a supply run, he said he'll be back in an hour." Sam Winchester frowned between Bobby and Cordelia. "Who's this?"

    "Sammy?" Cora whispered.

    Sam blinked, but it was not the blink of recognition.

    It's been six years, you've dyed your hair a few times, changed your name, and now dress more like Sherlock Holmes than you ever have in your life. No wonder he doesn't recognize you.

"Sammy, it's Cora. Cordelia."

Sam's face drained of color. "Bobby."

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Get the rocksalt. We have to take care of this before Dean gets back, he won't be able to handle it—"

"SAM!"

Sammy stopped, fists slowly clenching and unclenching. He stared at Cora, a mix of fear and pain on his face.

"I'm alive, Sammy. I've been alive."

He shook his head. "No," he whispered. "No, you can't be. Dean saw you die."

"No. No, Sammy, he didn't see me die. He and Dad found evidence of my death. They found the evidence I purposely scattered for them to find. There was no body because I was "eaten" by a wendigo, right? And they must have burned everything I owned to keep my ghost down, right? So how am I here if I'm dead? I swear to you, Sammy, I am alive."

Breath coming fast—like the onset of a panic attack—Sammy whispered, "I'm dreaming."

Cordelia stretched her hand out to her younger brother, silently begging him to take her hand, to reach out and touch her and realize that she was real.

"No, kid, you're not," Bobby said solemnly. "Cora's alive, and she's standin' right in front of you."

Sam stared at Bobby. "You—you knew? You knew my sister was alive and you didn't tell anyone? Bobby, you came to her funeral, you mourned with us!"

"I know, Sammy," Bobby said quietly, "but I owed it to your sister."

At last, Sam's fingers brushed over Cordelia's. He gasped, grasping her hand tightly, so tightly Cora could swear she could feel her blood flow cutting off.

"Too tight, Sammy," she said. Sam ignored her and threw himself around her, squeezing her whole body even tighter than he had her fingers. "Sammy! Can't—breathe!"

Sam finished his bear hug. "Why?" he whispered.

"Same as you," she said. "I wanted a new life."

"What life?"

"Any life. Any life out of hunting." She dug through her coat pockets, yanking out her badge. "I became a detective. A private investigator, really, but I work with the police now and again. Normal stuff. Nothing paranormal if I can help it."

Sam's stare was envious and damning and awestruck, all at the same time. "You got out."

"Well, you inspired me, Sam." Cora watched as his face fell, creased with guilt. "What is it, Sam? What happened?"

Voice almost too quiet to hear, Sam whispered, "I didn't. Get out, I mean."

"What do you mean? What about Stanford, what about Jess?"

Bobby grimaced. "Like I said, kiddo. There's a lot you missed."

Looking between the two of them, panic flared in Cordelia's chest. "So tell me what I missed!"

"Jess is dead," Sam blurted. Cora's ears started to ring. "Same way Mom died."

"No," Cora whispered.

Sam nodded.

"Did you...did you ever find out...?"

"A demon. Called Azazel."

Azazel. The name rung a bell in the back of Cordelia's mind. At last it dawned on her as Bobby went into the kitchen, cracking open a beer. Crowley had mentioned the name once or twice, though never when he had told her that demons had gone after her family for as long as it had existed. She wondered if he knew Azazel had killed her mom. She wondered if he hadn't told her on purpose. Probably. He was a demon, after all.

"A demon," Cora repeated, realizing that Sam and Dean and Bobby were not aware that she was in regular contact with the King of Crossroads, and should not know that demons existed, as they'd never encountered one while she was still hunting with them. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm afraid not," said Sam.

The familiar roar of the Impala reached Cora's ears, getting steadily louder by the second. She turned to stare out the door, watching until its front tires were visible in Bobby's driveway. She whipped back around, heart starting to hammer again.

Sam, ever the observant one, noticed. "Does...does Dean know you're alive?"

"No." Oh, dear, her voice was shaking something awful.

"Well, he's about to find out," Bobby said grimly. "I hope you've got a plan for this, little one."

"Nope," she squeaked. "I'm gonna wing it. Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure he doesn't kill me, please."

"I'm making no promises, Cora. He just came back from Hell, he's a little messed up right at the moment."

Cordelia squared her shoulders and faced the door. It was only when she heard Dean's footsteps just before the door and saw his outline that she realized she was emulating him, just as she always had when she caught up to and faced a criminal, and even further back in her past when she had to solo hunt.

Be like Dean, she'd been telling herself for years. Be like Dean, she told herself now.

The door opened. "Sam! I found some beer and pie! Got you that salad you said you wanted, too, but they didn't have your protein—" Dean looked up and found Sam and Bobby flanking a woman who was no longer his mirror. "—shakes."

Cordelia unfolded her hands and gave a tiny wave. She cleared her throat, but her voice still shook. "Hi, Dean."