Donatello walked over and took a seat on the couch.

"You okay?" Sam asked him.

"Ah, pretty much," the Prophet nodded. "No soul, thanks to Amos. It's kinda like losing your appendix. You never really noticed it when you had it."

He groaned, rubbing at his temples.

"But now, when I come to a moral crossroad, I ask myself, 'What would Mr. Rogers do?' And as soon as I nail that, I'm usually good."

I swallowed, glancing over at Ellie, who had thankfully not woken up despite the disturbance in the room.

"Why are you here?" I asked Donatello.

"Yes. That is the question we all must ask," he muttered quietly.

"Why are you in Wyoming?" I clarified, rolling my eyes in exasperation.

"Oh! Uh, well," he cleared his throat, "after God left, I said to myself, 'Donatello, you are so retired.' I mean, who needs a Prophet of God when there is no God? So... a few days ago, I'm online, checking out condos in Boca, and I am knocked off my feet by this weird wave of power. Not exactly like God's. More like... something new, something fresh. I was drawn to it. It's here."

Sam looked over his shoulder at Satan Junior as Donatello spoke.

"Wow. Right here. It's..." Donatello also looked over at Satan Junior, "you. Who are you?"

"I'm... Jack," Satan Junior answered hesitantly.

"Jack is a Nephilim," Sam explained further.

"A child of a human and an angel," Donatello nodded.

"Archangel, actually," Sam said, looking over at me. "Um... Lucifer."

"Lucifer?"

"And Donatello here is a prophet," Sam explained to the creature.

"Which means he has a direct line to God, or Heaven," I added.

"Yes, well, not so much anymore. But, uh..." Donatello addressed the thing, "look at you. The waves of power, so intense."

"Maybe less human than we thought," I hissed at Sam.

He glared at me and I just shrugged.

"Fascinating. You know, I've met your father. Your power's nothing like his. Not dark, not toxic."

"That so?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Not yet," I muttered.

"If Jack is sending out a signal strong enough to get Donatello all the way out here... the angels are still out there," Sam pointed out. "I mean, who knows what else might be listening. He needs protection."

⁘

Leaving Donatello back at the motel with the sleeping Ellie, Sam and I took Satan Junior to the only tattoo parlor still open at the late hour we could find.

"Alright, so, uh... I'm thinking something like this, right about here."

Sam put the paper with a drawing of the anti-possession symbol over the creature's chest in the same spot his and my tattoos were.

"Uh, you know what? Exactly like that," Sam continued.

"And you're cool with this?" the tattoo artist asked Satan Junior.

"Y-yeah," he stammered.

"Turn the damn thing on and start buzzin'," I snapped, annoyed.

"W-we're brothers," Sam lied, trying to put the tattoo artist at ease. "It's kind of like a family crest."

To prove his point further, he pulled down his collar enough to show off his own tattoo on his chest, and the tattooist finally looked convinced. Sam fell back to stand next to me while he got his tools ready.

"So you heard Donatello," he hissed quietly. "No evil vibes from Jack."

"Proves nothing, except that you and Ellie are way too attached to this kid. You need to see this for what it is, okay? I mean, what do you need, a sign?"

"Dean, whatever his powers are or will be... if we train him properly, they could be used for good."

As soon as the tattooist started working on Satan Junior, his machine malfunctioned and he was violently thrown back against the wall.

"Aah!"

"Well, there's your sign," I scoffed, then addressed Satan Junior. "Did you do that?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

Sam went over to check on the tattoo artist.

"It hurt," the creature continued, defending himself.

"Okay, see, sometimes, things hurt, so you just man up and deal with it."

"Yes. I understand. Pain is part of the complete human experience. Accepting it is a sign of maturity."

I just stared at him, unsure how I was supposed to respond to that.

"Alright," I turned to the tattooist, who'd recovered from getting thrown across the room. "I think your, uh, machine might've fritzed out there. You might wanna get that looked at."

"Uh..." the tattooist stammered.

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes.

A little while later, the creature's chest was adorned with both the anti-possession symbol as well as a warding sigil.

"Looks good, Jack," Sam told him.

He looked down at his chest, both tattoos vanishing before our eyes.

"Well, there's your second sign," I gave Sam a pointed look.

⁘

Ellie's POV

I'd woken up while Sam, Dean and Jack were gone apparently getting Jack tattoos to keep him protected from any angels or demons who might come after him. When they got back, Jack took a seat on the couch while Sam and Dean filled Donatello and I in on what happened.

"It was a reflex," Sam said. "He didn't do it on purpose."

"Who cares if he didn't do it on purpose?" Dean shot back angrily. "He did it. I mean, you didn't see Cass smiting someone every time he got his teeth cleaned."

"I'm right here, you know," Jack called over.

"Yeah, and what about the vanishing tattoo?" Dean added, ignoring the Nephilim.

"An archangel healed himself," Donatello replied.

"Another reflex," I added.

"Or maybe he didn't want to be warded."

"Okay, look, yeah, Jack is on Lucifer's family tree," Sam nodded. "But we don't know if that DNA is stronger than Kelly's, or his connection with Cass."

"Oh, you mean the connection that got Cass killed?" Dean snapped.

I shrunk back into myself a little bit at his words, and from the brief apologetic look he gave me, I could tell he realized it. However, in true Dean Winchester fashion, his anger about the situation won out and the look vanished quickly.

"We're just saying, Jack doesn't have to be evil," Sam continued. "We can teach him not to be."

"Ah," Donatello nodded. "The nature versus nurture conundrum."

The Prophet pat both Sam and Dean's shoulders, starting to walk away from our little huddle.

"Hey," Dean protested.

"Dude," Sam also stared after the Prophet.

"Oh," Donatello stopped, elaborating a little. "Speaking not as a prophet but as a scientist, I don't think teaching him is in the cards. It's like asking a lion not to be a lion."

"But this is not a lion!" Sam shouted angrily. "This is a human!"

"With a strong dose of God juice," Donatello reminded us.

"Okay, that's it," Dean growled. "I'm done, alright? 'Cause he's not God, he's not Cass, he's not Simba. He's the friggin' Devil!"

Dean turned to look over at Jack, but the Nephilim had vanished from the room. We'd been too distracted to even notice the sound of his wings or anything.

"Jack?" Sam asked.

"Uh oh," Donatello muttered.