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Sam doesn’t often get nervous. At least not in a nonsensical, flustered kind of way. Sam is often anxious — which he considers to be an entirely different thing. After all, there is plenty to be anxious about when one is a hunter: harm to civilians, injury, even death. But heart-fluttering, sweaty palmed, checking your watch every two minutes nerves? That’s not really Sam’s thing.
Except today, apparently. He is exhibiting all the symptoms of what he would call “nervousness.” Because today is the day that, after months of being separated, Rowena finally returns to the Bunker.
Maybe it’s witchcraft. She seems to be the only one who has this kind of effect on him.
A quick call that morning, through communication crystals, had confirmed that she would indeed be arriving today. Sam had busied himself fixing up her bedroom, much to the chagrin of surly hunters who didn’t understand why Rowena had a room and a bed reserved solely for her when so many others were squeezed in close quarters on cots and in sleeping bags. Sam had justified it by saying that it was Rowena’s permanent room in the Bunker, and it wouldn’t be right to give it away. The truth was only stretched a little — he did, at one point, imply that she lived there the majority of the time, but no one had to know that her room was actually unoccupied most days.
At 3:00 PM, fashionably late by half an hour, she arrives. There is a soft glow from Sam’s communication crystal, followed by a sharp rap on the door. He stumbles out of his seat, smoothing down his shirt. Halfway up the stairs, he realizes that he’s fixing his hair without even thinking about it, and he mentally scolds himself for his ridiculousness, snapping his arms down to his sides as if they were pulled down by magnets. He shakes this off and allows himself to open the door with forced calmness.
It’s finally her, and he can hardly believe it. But sure enough, Rowena is there. She is tiny, and fiery, and lovely, just as he remembers her. With a small, mischievous smile in greeting, she brings more fresh air to replenish the stale stillness of the Bunker than the slight, pleasant breeze that flows in through the door.
This refreshed feeling emboldens him to cross the threshold and throw his arms around her in an excited hug before either of them can even say, “Hello.”
“Samuel!” she squeaks indignantly as her toes lift off the ground. He just grins and holds on tighter, loving the way that she assumes her huff of annoyance will distract him from the fact that she’s hugging back just as firmly.
With one last squeeze, he lowers her to the ground, unable to will the corners of his mouth back to their neutral position. “Hi.”
“Well, hello,” she responds with a raised brow. Still, he notices with pride, she looks somewhat taken by surprise. He’s glad that he has the ability to elicit that reaction when she’s had literally centuries more of experiences than he has. Apparently, he isn’t entirely predictable.
“Come on in.” He steps aside, his arm outstretched to welcome her inside. “Dean says, ‘hi,’ too. He’ll come see you later; everything’s just hectic right now.”
“I anxiously await his welcome.” She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and steps primly over the entryway, her ruffled curls falling gently back into place as she marches confidently down the stairs. Sam hurries to catch up.
She drops her purse onto the table with a weary sigh and sinks into a chair. “Och, it’s good to be off the road.”
Sam eyes her purse in surprise. “Is that all you have with you?”
“Well, it’s not exactly easy to bring luggage when you’re fleeing from zombies by motorbike, love,” she says. “Sadly, this is all I have. Some makeup, a piece of quartz, a few pairs of panties,” she lists with a wink that heats up his face, “a plastic water bottle, and some odds and ends. Not exactly glamorous, I know,” she huffs, blowing a messy curl out of her face.
Sam looks at her properly for the first time. Her hair is bright and curly, as usual, but now that he’s more observant, he notices that it’s not as silky and well-tamed as it normally is. She does have some makeup on, but not the immaculate sparkly eyeshadow he’s accustomed to seeing; Rowena seems to be wearing a dab of mascara and a bit of lipstick, but not much else. In fact, for the first time, he can see the faintest dusting of freckles across her nose, as well as tiny bags under her eyes, likely from her rough journey.
Her clothes are also a far cry from her usual expensive tastes. Instead, she wears a lacy camisole underneath a loose, tank-style blouse, which seems to have had all its buttons ripped open, judging by the holes and loose threads along the seam. She is also sporting black leather pants that are splattered in mud, followed by red boots with just a bit of a heel, far more practical than her typical footwear. Still, Sam thinks that this more rugged attire suits her well. He can certainly feel his mouth go dry as his eyes graze over her toned arms, shown off nicely by her sleeveless top.
“I don’t think you’re capable of not being glamorous,” he finally blurts out, realizing he’s been silent for too long. He quickly regrets this, his face flushing once more.
Rowena doesn’t make fun of him, not like he thinks she will. Instead, her eyes soften. “That’s sweet, Samuel, but there is nothing ‘glamorous’ about wearing the same clothes for weeks.” Her brows draw upwards as she fidgets a bit in her seat. “I don’t suppose there’s anything for me here?”
“Of course,” he exclaims, quite pleased with himself for preparing her room in advance. “Everything you’ve left here is still in your room. You’ve got a couple of dresses and some other clothes, I think.”
“Ugh,” she comments, pulling herself back onto her feet. “I’m glad it’s something, but I certainly wish I’d had the foresight to pack a nice, comfortable pair of pyjamas or something of the like.”
Sam smiles and takes her bag from the table. “Well, let’s go take a look at what you have, and I’ll do my best to get you what you’re missing.”
Sure enough, the few clothes that Rowena has stored at the Bunker are better suited for fashion than for comfort. “Ah yes, five different ballgowns and only one pair of trousers. Incredibly useful for the bloody apocalypse,” she scolds herself.
“I’ll see what I can do. At the very least, you can borrow a few of my shirts, but I’m sure they’ll be huge on you. I’ll see if the girls have some clothes to spare.” He looks around the room to determine if there’s anything missing. “Anything else you need?”
“A shower,” she says drily.
“That I can do. Come on, I’ll get you a towel, and you can borrow my clothes for now.”
As Rowena showers, Sam pulls together a few more things for her. Aside from a couple of his own t-shirts and flannels, he manages to get a shirt from Alex and a couple of pairs of shorts from Claire. Given Rowena’s petite frame, it’s difficult to find pants that will fit, but Patience lends him a pair of jeans. He figures that at the very least, they’ll be an alright fit if Rowena rolls the legs several times into cuffs.
He’s just laying them all out on her bed when he feels a presence behind him. He turns, expecting it to be Rowena, out of the shower. Instead, he takes a startled step back and he comes nearly face-to-face with Billie.
Billie, of course, remains totally unfazed as he regathers himself, willing his jumpy heart to slow down. “There’s this thing called ‘knocking,’” Sam quips.
“A waste of time,” she dismisses.
“You scared me half to death.”
“Hmm, not quite. I would know,” she says, and he really can’t argue with that.
“So, uh… what are you doing here?” he asks instead.
“The witch is here,” she says, and it’s somewhere between a statement and a question.
“Rowena,” he corrects, finding himself oddly irked at the omission of “the witch’s” name. “Yeah.”
Billie gives a curt nod of acknowledgement. “It’s time.”
“What — now?”
“Almost all the major players are in place. Today, we go over the plan, and in a week, you and your people will execute it. I’m sure that will give you enough time to get everyone into place,” she challenges.
“Y—yeah. Of course. I just didn’t expect—”
“Oh,” says Rowena from the doorway. Sam spins to face her, but Billie remains dead still. “I see we have a visitor.” Despite the inconvenience of the moment, Sam’s heart rate makes a sharp turn upwards as he looks at Rowena, her wet hair dripping onto one of his t-shirts, which she’s paired with the sole pair of pants she had stored at the Bunker.
“Sorry to intrude,” Billie says, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“I suppose this means I was the last key player to arrive,” Rowena says with a small, prideful lift of her chin.
“Not quite,” Billie says.
“Uh, we’re not actually expecting any others,” Sam corrects, concerned that Billie anticipates more help than they’ll actually have. “Not until the big showdown.”
“I know,” Billie says. “They’re coming anyways.”
Before Sam can ask Billie to clarify, he hears a commotion in the entryway of the Bunker, followed by Dean calling his name.
“That’s one right now,” Billie says, totally unfazed. “Right on schedule.” She steps aside to allow Sam and Rowena to pass through.
They rush to the entry of the Bunker and stop short in confusion. There’s a lot of commotion, with hunters whispering and standing uneasily around. At the center of it all, though, is Claire, looking wild in anger, being forcefully restrained by Jody — but just barely.
Sam trusts Jody’s judgment, so he jumps in to help her hold back Claire before he can fully even assess the situation. However, all questions are answered as soon as he looks up at the front door. In the doorway stands the Kaia from the Bad Place with Dean beside her, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. Her hood is up, Sam realizes, which means that for Claire, this is nothing more than the monster who murdered her crush.
Kaia lowers her hood, glaring at Dean, causing Claire to gasp and recoil at the sight. After a whiplash adjustment, Claire strains against Jody and Sam’s hold once again, this time, for a different reason.
“Kaia!” she cries, and the doppelganger looks at her with cold inquisitiveness. “Let me go,” she pleads. “It’s her; she’s alive!”
“No,” Sam says, breaking it to her as gently as possible. “It’s not her.”
“What are you talking about?” she yells. “She’s right there!”
“Claire…” Jody starts. She looks to Sam for help.
“That’s not our Kaia,” Sam explains. “She’s from another world. The Bad Place.”
Claire goes slack as she processes the new information. “Wait… you knew!” she accuses Sam. “You knew this whole time, and you didn’t tell me?” Her eyes reflect utter betrayal that makes Sam’s heart sink deep into his gut.
“It’s not his fault,” Jody says in an attempt to defend him.
“Oh my God,” Claire says, tearing her hands out of their loosened holds. “You knew, too,” she says to Jody.
“It’s not that simple,” Jody says.
“How could you?” Claire cries. “I trusted you. And then you hide something like this from me?” Her eyes flicker up to the Bad Place Kaia. “I can’t believe you. Any of you,” she chokes through tears, backing away. She turns and runs out of the room.
“Claire!” Jody calls. She looks back to Sam, running a stressed, shaking hand through her short hair. “Do I go after her? I don’t want to leave you guys without backup, but —”
“I’ve got it,” Donna assures her. “You stay here, and I’ll go talk to her.”
Sam suddenly remembers Billie. “Uh, guys,” he says, “we have another visitor too.” As he gestures behind him, all eyes turn to Billie.
“Oh, wonderful,” Dean snarks. “Perfect timing.”
“Actually, it is,” Billie dishes back. “Fun time’s over. We need to talk about taking down God.”
Kaia shoots a dismissive look Billie’s way before turning her attention back to Dean. “You’re not going anywhere,” she growls, stopping him from descending. “We had two conditions to our deal: that you’d return the spear to me, and you’d get me back home. Now you’re telling me that you can’t bring me back, and the spear is broken?”
“Listen, kid,” Dean bites. “Shit happened. But you know what else? Michael’s dead. So I’m sorry about your little spear, but it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Neither him or his minions will be chasing you down anymore, so suck it up.”
“That’s not what we agreed on!”
“I can’t help you with that! What’s done is—”
“Dean. Kaia,” Billie interrupts. “There will be plenty of time to bicker later. It’s time to get to work.”
“What? I’m not involved in any of this shit,” Kaia says. She turns back to Dean. “Who the hell is this lady?”
“Uh, that would be Death herself,” Dean says, his tone laced with insufferable smugness.
Kaia’s eyes widen for a moment, but she shakes her head. “I don’t care who you are. I want no part in this.”
“Oh, trust me,” Billie says. Kaia’s spear materializes in her hand. “You do.”
Kaia stares down at the spear with a furrowed brow. She glances at Dean, squares her shoulders, and shoves past him to walk down the stairs and follow Billie to the war table. Dean looks equally confused by Billie’s insistence on Kaia’s involvement, but he shakes his head and follows her down.
“I need Dean, Sam, Cas, Rowena, Kaia, Max, and Alicia at the table,” Billie says. “The rest of you are welcome to listen, though there is no obligation.” None of the hunters move to leave the room; if anything, they shuffle closer.
“I should check on Donna and Claire before we start. Just so they know what’s going on, at least,” Sam says.
“If you insist,” Billie says with slight annoyance, but Sam ignores her tone, firm in his decision to involve the missing women. As he leaves, he can hear Dean explain that as one of the core leaders of their group of hunters, Donna should be there (Jody being the other, of course).
Claire looks calmer, though still upset, with red swollen eyes that seem to have only just stopped spilling tears. She sits on the back stairs. Donna is on the step behind her, rubbing her back gently. They both look up as Sam comes in.
“Hey, Claire. I’m really sorry—”
“Donna explained everything,” Claire cuts in. “I know you weren’t trying to keep it from me.”
“And?” Donna prods.
Claire rolls her eyes and sniffs. “And that Jody was only trying to protect me.”
“Still, I know it can’t be easy,” Sam sympathizes. To be honest, he’s impressed by Claire’s maturity on the issue, and the fact that she is so quick to forgive, even if begrudgingly. “Listen, we’re gonna go over the plan now. I know it might be too much right now, but I at least wanted to keep you in the loop.”
A look of determination crosses over Claire’s face. “No, I’ll go.” Donna shoots her a look. “I can handle it. This is important.”
“Only if you’re sure,” Donna says. She looks up at Sam. “Is, you know… she still here?”
“Yeah. Apparently she’s an important part of this, too. Billie knew she was coming.”
“Can you hold it together?” Donna asks Claire.
“Yeah,” Claire says. “Promise.”
They file back in. Claire avoids Kaia’s curious look, and she positions herself as far away from Kaia as possible, but to her credit, she does remain calm. Donna’s presence beside her certainly seems to help.
Billie gives Sam a steely look. “We’re all here. Almost,” she says. “I need to make a brief call.” With that, she turns away from them and goes still.
“What?” Dean exclaims. “You couldn’t have done that, I dunno, any other time?” Billie ignores him, and Cas squeezes his arm in an attempt to diffuse his frustration. Dean huffs. “Well, fine. Go do it then.”
Billie turns back to him, an eyebrow arched. “Already done.”
At that moment, black smoke begins to seep in from the vents. Sam’s first, illogical thought is demon, and it seems many other hunters are thinking the same thing as they fall into defensive stances. But Sam knows well enough that Billie wouldn’t sabotage them, not with the universe hanging out of balance. Besides, though the black smoke is familiar, it’s not demon smoke. Sam can’t place where he’s seen it before until it forms into the shape of a woman.
“Amara?” Cas says incredulously, beating the rest of them to it.
Amara’s only acknowledgement is a brief look to Cas before she turns to Billie.
“Who’s that?” whispers someone behind Sam. It’s from a group of a few older hunters, including Bobby.
“Amara. She’s uh… God’s sister.”
There are a few surprised murmurs at that, but the reactions are surprisingly tame. Then again, Sam reasons, everyone in the room has already had to process that God himself is a little bit evil and has just been fucking with them the whole time. God’s sister should hardly be a surprise at this point.
“So,” Billie says, drawing attention back. She allows the room to settle itself before continuing. “I’m sure you’ve all been training and preparing yourselves for this. You know the mission; now, I’m gonna tell you how to get it done.” She pauses, as if waiting for questions, but no one dares speak.
“As some of you know,” she continues, “in the earliest days after the creation of the Earth, God led a battle to weaken the Darkness and trap her inside a sigil.” She gestures to Amara as she speaks. “The Mark of Cain, to be exact.” Dean shifts a bit uncomfortably. Cas gives him a knowing glance and pats his arm.
Billie continues in a slow, even pace, “In withdrawing his power from Earth, God has created an imbalance, which must be resolved. Now, if the solution were as simple as killing God, intervention on my part wouldn’t necessarily be required. But killing God would just throw the world into further imbalance, for the same reasons that kept God from killing the Darkness way back at the beginning.
“What you need to do is trap God. And there is no better way to do it than to follow the plan that he himself utilized in his battle against the Darkness.”
“You want to make another Mark of Cain? Are you insane?” Jody interjects, surprising them all. Sam has half a mind to jump up and argue himself, but Jody seems to have it covered.
“It won’t be the Mark of Cain. It will be something new,” Billie says.
“I don’t care what you call it,” Jody pushes back. “We all know what that thing did to Dean.”
“It’s inhumane,” Donna chimes in, well aware by now of how the Mark affected Dean after hearing years of stories. “You can’t do that to a human being.”
“Aside from being cruel, it’s impractical,” Cas agrees. “A human being cannot sustain a sigil like that. This is not a long term solution.”
“A human cannot sustain it,” Billie says.
Cas blinks. “You want… me to bear it?” He looks around the room for answers. “Is that even possible?” He is met with confused frowns and shrugs, except from Dean, who looks about ready to kill another Death over the mere suggestion.
“No,” Amara says, taking a step forward. “An angel could not bear the Mark anymore than either of us,” she finishes, gesturing towards Billie.
“However,” Billie says, “a nephilim can.”
“You want to use Jack?” Rowena yells, rising to her feet. “That’s the reason you’re planning on bringing that poor, sweet boy back to life?”
A part of Sam is just as indignant as Rowena at the thought, but the whole bomb of a plan has scrambled his brain. He reaches out and touches her arm lightly in hopes that she’ll settle down long enough to at least hear out the rest of it. The look she gives him is not pleased, but she does lower herself back onto her chair, if only barely.
“We understand your concerns,” Amara says. “I know firsthand the toll it took on Dean to be the bearer of my prison. But a nephilim, especially the offspring of an archangel, can handle it without any symptoms at all.”
“You have no idea of the extent of his power,” Billie says to all the hunters. She leans casually against the table. “He doesn’t even know. Properly trained, a being like him could destroy God with a snap of his fingers. If he can do that, he can trap him without incident.” Her eyes skate around the room. “Any more objections, or can we continue?”
Sam exchanges worried looks around the table with Dean, Cas, Rowena, Jody, and Donna, but nobody speaks up.
“Good,” Billie says, although she didn’t pause long for dissent. “The spell itself requires three things: The equal and opposite force to seal it — that would be the Darkness, energy drawn from each existing universe, and the grace of one of God’s first creations — an angel.”
“You mean his?” Dean asks, gripping Cas’s arm.
“Mmhm.” She nods.
“No way. Not happening,” Dean growls.
“Dean, it’s fine. I want to do it,” Cas says gently.
“But—”
“I’ll explain later. Please, let me do this.” He locks eyes with Dean in an intense stare.
The two of them seem to have an entire nonverbal conversation that Sam can’t comprehend. But whatever Cas is “saying” to Dean, it seems to work. “Okay,” Dean gives in, though he doesn’t sound at all happy about it. “What about this energy from every universe? How are we gonna swing that?”
“That’s where the dreamwalker comes in,” Amara explains.
“Me?” Kaia exclaims. “I can’t do that. I can’t even control what worlds I see.”
“You will,” Billie says.
“How?”
“Most people have duplicates of themselves in other worlds,” Billie explains. “Each is an entirely different person. What makes you a dreamwalker is that yours aren’t other versions of yourself. They are part of you. Alone, you’re not whole.”
Kaia wrinkles her nose. “So? Even if what you’re saying is true, I can’t do anything about it.”
“No,” Billie agrees, “but she can.” She tilts her head towards Amara.
“God creates; I… reduce. I can unite you with your other selves,” Amara says with a sly smile. “Once you’re one, you’ll grow into your full powers. You’ll be able to hop universes at will, among other abilities.”
“And this world’s Kaia?” Claire interjects. “The Kaia who died.” Her eyes nervously shift between Jody and Donna. “I had to ask.”
“She’ll be one of many parts of her.”
Claire’s face is unreadable. “Okay,” she says after a deep breath, and Sam still isn’t sure whether she’s happy about it or not.
“And what about me?” Kaia asks. “Do I get any say in this?”
“Of course, you’re free to walk out. But if you want anyone to live, including yourself, you’ll do this,” Billie says. “Even if you could go back to your own universe without help, you wouldn’t be safe. There is only one God for all universes, and he’s no longer keeping things running.”
Kaia glares. “Fine. Is it gonna hurt?”
“You may be disoriented for a moment,” Amara says. “But no pain.”
“I’d take a seat if I were you,” BIllie says, but it sounds more like a threat than friendly advice to Sam’s ears.
Kaia cautiously takes a seat, and Amara announces, “I’m going to unite you now.” She places her hands on Kaia’s shoulders and closes her eyes. Kaia’s eyes squeeze shut a moment later.
Images of alternate Kaias flicker around her like ghosts. After a moment, each of them seems to be pulled into Kaia’s chest. She twitches as each part of herself is sucked in, but she doesn’t seem to be in any discomfort.
Amara lifts her hands, and Kaia opens her eyes. Her gaze skitters around the room, landing on Claire for just a second longer than the rest of them are given. The look she gives her is not that of dark Kaia, but it’s not quite the same as the first Kaia they met, either.
“Well?” Jody exclaims. “Did it work?”
“Yes,” Kaia says simply.
Sam can see that Claire is bursting to ask Kaia a million questions, but to her credit, she restrains herself. Donna squeezes her shoulder in a comforting manner.
“And what about the rest of us?” Bobby demands. “What do we plain, non-magic, human people do?”
“My brother will need to be weakened before we can trap him,” Amara says. “We need all of you to distract him so Jack, the Shadow, and I can subdue him.”
“You want a bunch of humans to go against G-O-D with—with shotguns and pigstickers? Are you insane?” he retorts.
“Bobby’s right,” Sam speaks up. “I know we’re dealing with the end of the world here, but you can’t ask people to go on a suicide mission.” There are grumbles and interjections of agreement.
“They’ll be protected,” Billie says. She looks to Amara to elaborate.
“I can’t protect you from all harm, but I can stop him from hurting you directly with his powers,” Amara explains.
“You can’t do that,” Dean accuses. “Even Chuck couldn’t… Son of a bitch.”
Amara wrinkles her brow. “My brother didn’t protect you when you stood against me? I always assumed he had.”
“Son of a bitch!”
A laugh bubbles out of Sam, but it’s an angry, toxic one that burns his windpipe on the way up. “Of course he didn’t.”
“He wasn’t able to?” Jody asks, a bit out of the loop.
“No, he was capable of it,” Sam seethes. “But what fun would it be if we couldn’t die at any moment?”
An uncomfortable silence falls over the room before Amara assures them, “I’m not like my brother. I will do all I can to make you impervious to his attacks.”
“That’s all well and good, but how exactly are you gonna trap him?” Bobby asks.
“The spell requires three ingredients; it also requires three witches,” Billie says.
“So me, Max, and Rowena,” Alicia says.
“Not quite,” Billie says. “All the casters need to be fully human,” she finishes with a pointed look.
Alica tenses. “Why is she looking at me like that? I’m human!” she yells, becoming increasingly agitated.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Max stutters.
This does little to quell Alicia. “Stop it! Why doesn’t she think I’m human?”
Max’s eyes dart desperately between Sam and Dean. “I’m about to do something I swear I haven’t done before.” The witch’s ring on his finger catches the light. “You won’t remember this,” Max orders.
Alicia immediately goes still, and her eyes glaze over.
Amara has a perturbed expression as she watches. “She doesn’t know.”
“No,” Billie responds, staring Max down.
“I’m sorry. Please, don’t tell her,” he begs.
“I won’t have to tell her,” Amara says with a hard look. “She’ll know as soon as I restore her. She’ll remember dying.”
“You can’t bring her back without her knowing?” he asks.
“She could,” Amara says, of Billie.
“But clean hands,” Billie says. “You do want her back for real, don’t you?
Max hesitates.
“Max!” Sam scolds.
“It’s not a hard choice; seriously dude?” Dean exclaims at the same time.
Max flinches. “Yes, of course. Yes!”
This transformation has far less ceremony than the previous one. Amara snaps her fingers, and immediately, Alicia’s features shape into pure fury.
“How could you?” she yells tearfully. Max takes a step towards her, and she jumps back. “No! After what happened to Mom, you thought it would be okay to do that to me?”
“Alicia—” he starts.
“Don’t talk to me, Max. I don’t even want to see you right now.” She storms out.
Billie is unconcerned by the drama. “I assume you can prepare an energy crystal?” Billie asks Rowena.
Rowena glances back at Sam. He nods back. “Of course,” she sighs. “Come with me.”
Meanwhile, Claire has been gravitating towards Kaia. “Do you remember me?” she asks timidly.
“Of course,” Kaia says. “It’s just confusing.” She shrugs uncomfortably. “I have all these different memories from different universes and I don’t know how to piece them together.”
Claire looks relieved, in spite of Kaia’s mixed answer. “Kaia… I really like you,” she says, reaching out, but Kaia shies away from her touch. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking heartbroken. “Is there anything I can do?”
Kaia hesitates. “I don’t know who I am. I need to find myself before I can be involved with someone else.”
“Right.” Claire nods stiffly. “Of course.” But a glimmer of hope does find its way into her eyes. “Until then: friends at least?” She extends her hand.
Kaia reaches out and shakes it with a small smile. “Friends.”
At that moment, Billie and Rowena return with the crystal. “Ready to go?” Billie asks Kaia.
Kaia nods and parts from Claire, her gaze lingering just a moment.
“When will you be back?” Jody asks, stepping forward to see them off.
“It’ll be a week,” Billie says, “to visit each and every universe. Be ready for the battle when we come back,” she warns the entire group.
Sam makes his way over to Claire, who is looking small and quiet. “Are you okay?” he asks, watching out of the corner of his eye as Amara and Billie each take one of Kaia’s hands.
“No,” Claire says, looking after them as they disappear. “But I will be.”