Book 8 - Beggar's Banquet

by GailDunn2

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT AND SITUATIONS. Castiel and Gail are sinking, and Sam and Dean will have to help them. Can Gail get the cure in time? And what will she have to sacrifice to get it?

1. The Power to Choose

Chapter 1 - The Power To Choose

Gail and Dean were sitting in the chairs opposite Crowley's desk, and Crowley was sitting behind it. He picked up a decanter and poured three stiff shots, pushing two of the glasses towards them. He threw back his own immediately and poured another.

Dean looked at his glass, shrugged, then knocked his back, too. Crowley made a motion to the decanter, but Dean shook his head.

Gail just stared at her glass. She was too stunned to move. After they had left the wing where Lucifer's cage was located, Crowley had said, "Let's go to my office for a minute, talk about what we're going to do now."

Crowley had been stunned by what Metatron had said too, but characteristically, he had been the first one to recover. They shouldn't just stand here out in the open. Castiel was still here somewhere, and while there had been plenty to occupy him in the torture wing, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't begin to wander. All they'd need would be for him to around the corner holding a bloody blade and whistling a happy tune.

So, he'd led the way to his office, and Dean had put his arm around Gail, steering her in that direction. Dean was starting to recover now too, and he was also wondering what the hell they were going to do now. Rowena was deader than dead; Gail had seen to that when they'd gone to Crowley's den to seek out Frank. But Dean knew that in their world there was usually a way around these things. Look at what they had just done, for instance. But why did Crowley look so perturbed, then? His mother had been a powerful witch, but she'd been human, and she'd been evil. Wouldn't she be here?

Gail had been too stunned to reason anything out, and she remained that way now. They were screwed, and once again, it was her fault. She had killed the only person who could have helped them. What the hell had Crowley meant, what were they going to do now? What WAS there to do?

Castiel was drenched in blood, and he was exhausted. His visit to Hell's torture wing had been both instructional and cathartic, but he was tired now, and he wanted to go home. He needed to get cleaned up, and he needed to be with Gail.

He frowned. Where was Crowley? He'd thought the King of Hell would have been back by now. Too bad Castiel couldn't just exit Hell by himself. As dark as he was now, he could still only enter and exit Hell in Crowley's company. He had asked his Brother about that, and Crowley had advised that Castiel hadn't fully turned yet. But with every violent act he committed, Castiel was turning further away from the light. As he had been such a high-ranking Angel, he had much farther to fall than others, and so the journey would take longer. Crowley had told him to be patient; he was well on his way.

Today's activities would go a long way towards his progress, Castiel thought with satisfaction. He had been very busy. But he was done now, for the time being anyway, and he needed to find Crowley. So, he meandered through the halls, finally stopping to ask a minion where the King's office was.

The three of them sat in silence, thinking their individual thoughts. Crowley thought he might have an idea, and he was just opening his mouth to speak when there was a knock on the door.

"Crowley, are you in there? It's Castiel."

Gail looked up in terror. Oh, God. They had taken too long.

The doorknob rattled, but luckily Crowley had had the foresight to lock the door behind them. He hadn't wanted anyone to stumble in and find an Angel and a Winchester in here. He had arranged for the halls around the secure wing to be deserted when they'd arrived, and except for the one minion he'd arranged to escort Dean from the office when he'd arrived, no one knew they were here. Crowley had had to sacrifice the escort, of course, to keep it completely confidential. Just the cost of doing business.

"Crowley!" Cas pounded on the door. "Are you there?"

Crowley put a hand to his lips, looking at Dean and Gail. She was looking like she was going to lose it at any moment.

Crowley moved around the desk and unlocked the door, edging himself through it and closing it behind him. "I heard you," he said, making sure to sound irritated. "I was just catching up on some paperwork."

"I'm ready to leave," Castiel said to him.

Crowley examined his Brother. He'd just bet he was. How he was even still standing was beyond Crowley. Based on the amount of blood on his clothes and the expression on his face, he was all in.

"Give me ten minutes," Crowley said to Castiel. "I have to close a couple more files."

"All right, then let me come in there," Castiel said, motioning his head to the door. "I need to sit down."

"You're a mess, and you're not getting blood all over my furniture. I just had it reupholstered," Crowley told him. "Wait here."

Crowley slipped back into the office, locking the door behind him. Castiel stood in the hallway, fuming. That office was going to be his soon, he vowed. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor. He really did need a rest.

Crowley put a finger to his lips again as his guests looked at him, panicked. Then he stood between Gail and Dean and looked at his desk. Clean as a whistle. He snapped his fingers and a pile of files appeared, then he waved his hand and messed the papers up a bit. That would have to do. Then he put one hand on each of their arms and winked them out of his office.

They reappeared in the warehouse, and Crowley pushed Gail back into the middle of the floor, where she'd been standing when he and Castiel had left.

"No time for finesse, sweetheart," he told her. "You have to be in exactly the same position as you were when we left you." He drew the circle of holy oil around her and lit it on fire.

Dean was looking around. What was this place? This was where they'd been right before Crowley and Gail had come to the bunker? Why? What had the three of them been doing here, and how long had they been meeting like this?

"Crowley - " Gail started to say, stepping forward involuntarily.

Crowley looked down at her legs. "I wouldn't recommend doing that when I bring your boyfriend back," he said sardonically.

Dean rushed forward, but Crowley restrained him. "Gail! Your legs!" Dean yelled.

She looked down at herself. Her leg was in the fire, and her foot was outside the circle. But the fire didn't burn and it didn't hurt. What a surreal experience. She looked up at Crowley.

"Well, I guess I'll have to figure out a different way to get you to stay put in the future," Crowley said dryly. "That extra dose definitely did the trick." He looked at Dean. "Say goodbye. We've got to go."

"Thanks, Dean," Gail said. "And thank you, too," she said to Crowley.

Crowley gave her a small bow. "I'll contact you as soon as I can," he said. Then he grabbed Dean's arm and they were gone.

"We're back," Crowley called out. He and Dean had appeared in the library area as soon as Dean had extended the invitation, and Bobby and Sam came rushing out from the kitchen.

Dean stood looking down at his own dead body, having a surreal experience of his own. "How do I get back in there?"

"Leave it to me," Crowley said. He snapped his fingers and Dean disappeared. Sam was on the verge of yelling, asking the King of Hell what he was trying to pull, but Crowley had already bent down and put his hand on Dean's head. A minute or two later, Dean stretched as if he'd been enjoying a deep sleep, then he sat up, blinking. "Un-freakin'-real," he said to the men.

Sam and Bobby took one arm each and helped Dean to his feet, then Sam pulled his brother into his arms for a hug.

"I hate to interrupt this happy family scene, but I have to go," Crowley said. "I'll be in touch." Then he vanished.

Crowley reappeared at his office door in Hell. He took a breath, brushed imaginary lint off his suit jacket, and unlocked the door. "You might as well come in," he said to Castiel, putting on a tone of annoyance. "But you'll have to stand. I'll just be a moment."

Castiel entered the office, looking around. It was a little smaller than he'd expected, but it was nicely furnished. He could see himself here. He looked at the plush couch on the other side of the room and smiled. And he could definitely see himself and Gail there. She probably wouldn't mind a change of venue now and then. He looked at the desk. Maybe he'd get her a chair and she could sit beside him there. She was his partner, after all.

He noticed the three glasses. "I thought you said you were working on files," Castiel said.

Crowley was making a show of closing files and shuffling papers, and he froze for a moment. He had forgotten about those. "Not everything is your business, Castiel," he snapped. There. That ought to shut his Brother up.

Castiel frowned, but he was too tired to argue. When Crowley said, "Let's go," Cas was only too glad to take his arm.

They reappeared in the warehouse, where Gail was standing in the circle of fire. She had made sure to stay in the centre and not move a muscle, and when the two men appeared, she arranged her features to look annoyed.

"It's about time!" she said. "Get me out of here, Crowley! I'm sick of standing here!"

He approached her, trying not to smile. Good girl. Crowley snapped his fingers, extinguishing the fire, then waved his hand and the circle of holy oil was gone. Only then did Gail move forward. Castiel came to her and tried to put his arms around her, but she sidestepped him. "Let's get you cleaned up first," she said to him.

Cas smiled. Understandable. He did take her hand, and she didn't pull away, though his hand was as bloody as the rest of him. She could wash her hand, and the fear of her near discovery in Crowley's office was still too fresh. Also, they hadn't had a chance to talk about what Metatron had said, and its implications. Had they gone through all that for nothing?

"We'll have to meet again, soon," Crowley said to them. "But for now, I think you'd better take your boyfriend home, sweetheart. He's looking worn out."

She stared at Crowley, trying to communicate her thanks with her eyes. He looked at her evenly, thinking she may not want to thank him. There may be a way to get to his mother, but it would require further sacrifice on her part. Just how far would she be willing to go to save Castiel?

And there was something else she may not want to thank Crowley for, though it was hardly his fault. After all, she had agreed to pay the price of admission. Just before she and Castiel disappeared from the warehouse, Crowley had seen her eyes darken from a medium brown to a darker brown. For a moment there, he could have sworn they'd almost looked black.

Cas went immediately to the shower, and he took his blade with him. He showered thoroughly, then rinsed the blade off, watching the blood go down the drain. Then he toweled himself off and wiped the blade clean. God, he was tired. But he was also exhilarated. As annoying as Crowley was at times, he did manage to provide a wide assortment of outlets for Castiel's particular needs. Well, the violent ones, anyway. The others would be taken care of right now.

He was so exhausted that he walked into the bedroom absently carrying the blade. He hadn't bothered to dress, so Cas had no pocket in which to put it. It was only when he got to the bed that he noticed it was still in his hand. He put it on the nightstand, then got into bed, reaching for Gail.

But she sat up, evading his arms. "What's that doing there?" Gail asked angrily, pointing at the blade.

Cas was annoyed at her tone. "Nothing," he said shortly. "I had it in my hand, so I put it down."

Gail didn't want to see it there, especially not within his arm's reach. "Well, pick it back up," she said, agitated.

Cas's eyes narrowed. "I'm tired, Gail. I'll do it in the morning. Come here." He reached for her again, but she pushed his arms away. Gail was shaking now, but it was more from anger than from fear. Although there was some fear, as well.

"No!" she said, raising her voice. "That thing's leaving this room right now, or I am!"

His eyes flashed bright purple. "Is that right?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

Gail was shaking violently now. "Yes, that's right," she retorted. He continued to stare at her, but she didn't dare look away, and she didn't dare back down. If she bent the rule now, she knew it would break.

Cas was angry now. He hadn't intended to use the damn thing, he'd just forgotten it was in his hand. He was tired, he was comfortable, and he just wanted her to touch him. Maybe after she took care of him, he could shut his eyes for a few minutes and recharge his batteries.

"If you want it gone so badly, you can put it somewhere yourself," Cas said to her.

"Really?" Gail said sarcastically. "Can I? I can put it anywhere I want?"

"Yes, yes," Cas said impatiently. "Just do it."

"All right, I will," Gail said brightly. She got out of the bed, walked around to his side, and grabbed the blade from the nightstand. "How about if I put it...here?" she said, holding it to his throat.

Cas's eyes flashed again, then they narrowed. Was she joking? Then he looked into her eyes and noticed that they looked darker than usual. Why were they such a strange colour?

Gail wanted to see what he would do next. This had been a really risky move on her part, she knew, but it was time he was taught that a rule was a rule, and a promise was a promise. She had to regain some of her power in the relationship or die trying.

Cas glared at her for a moment. He knew she wouldn't actually do it; she was just trying to prove a point. He could easily overpower her if he wanted to, turn the blade back on her.

Instead, he smiled. She was showing him why he loved her and had picked her to be his partner. He had been hoping she would stand up to him and give him a challenge. It would make things more exciting.

"Easy does it," Cas said lightly. "It turns out I do have a bit of energy after all. I'll just take that and put it downstairs, okay?"

Gail took the blade away from his throat but held onto it. Was he sincere, or was it a trick?

Cas started to swing his legs off the bed and she moved back a step, allowing him to sit up. She backed up another step as he stood. He put his hand out for the blade and she gave it to him. Once again, she waited to see what he'd do next. She was more than a little afraid, but she stood her ground.

He stared at her for a moment, then turned and left the room. She could hear him walking down the stairs, then, after a moment, walking back up. He appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, holding up his hands. "OK to enter? As you can see, the blade is gone," he said sardonically.

Well, he definitely didn't have it any more, Gail thought with faint amusement. Cas was still naked; unless he was a special kind of magician, he couldn't possibly be hiding it. There was something else he wasn't bothering to hide, too. He was in an obvious state of excitement.

Cas walked to her and pressed his body against hers, kissing her with his tongue. She moved her hand down to tocuh him and he moaned. She supposed he deserved a reward for obeying her wishes and not getting violent about it. What a sad thing to think, but she had to play with the cards she'd been dealt until there was a re-shuffle, or she decided to quit the game. After what she'd just heard from Metatron, it could go either way now.

But for now, she said, "Come and lay down." She took his hands and led him to the bed, and when they were in it, she moved immediately down his body and took him in her mouth. He moved with her, and a minute later he was crying out her name. Her defiance had excited him that much. Once he was rested, he would have to give her the reciprocation she deserved.

Gail moved up to kiss him on the mouth and he took her in his arms, sighing appreciatively. "I love you," he murmured. Then Cas closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Gail gently extricated herself from his arms and stood there for a moment, looking down at him. He was actually sleeping and sleeping deeply. Wow. She'd have to ask Crowley about that. It would almost be worth going through another dosing or two if she could just join him for a night, she thought with dark humour. It'd be nice to have that escape for a while.

But she was wasting time. She moved quietly around the bed and grabbed her clothes from the floor where she'd left them, dressing quickly. Then she took a deep breath and winked herself into the bunker.

Sam and Dean were sitting at the library table having a beer when Gail appeared. She walked up to Dean immediately and put her hand on his shoulder. "Thank God. I just needed to see you, make sure you were OK," she told him. A small part of her had been worried that Crowley wouldn't actually bring Dean back.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean told her. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, Dean," Gail sighed. She wasn't, really, but compared to how she'd been some other nights, it was still an improvement.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked her.

"Believe it or not, he's sleeping," Gail said, making a face. "Apparently, he does that now."

The brothers looked at each other. Did Demons sleep? Dean frowned. More proof of Cas's non-Angel status.

"Dean told me what happened," Sam said. "So you need Rowena to tell you how to reverse the spell?"

Gail laughed shortly. "Yeah. And I chopped off her head."

Sam looked at her sharply. It wasn't like Gail to speak so bluntly. How much was the extra dose Crowley had administered to her here affecting her now? Her eyes looked like they were a darker brown than he remembered, and he had looked into them a lot.

"There's always a way, Gail," Dean said, taking a sip of beer. "We just have to think of it."

"Oh, well if that's all we have to do, I'll get right on it. Piece of cake," she said sarcastically.

"I'll look at the spell book," Sam said. "I haven't really had the chance to go over it thoroughly."

Gail shrugged. "Might as well. But unless it's got a section on reversing rogue spells, I don't know if it'll do us much good."

"I think Crowley might have something," Dean said.

Gail's heart skipped a beat. "What? Why do you say that?"

"I dunno, he just had a look on his face when we were in his office. And I think he was about to say something when Cas knocked on the door," Dean replied.

"I'll have to call him, then," Gail said. Dean held up his cell phone. "We can call him here. Put it on speaker so we can all hear."

Oh. Right. She'd been thinking she would just call him with her mind, as he'd advised she could do now. But this would be better; then they'd all be in the loop. "Where's Bobby?" she asked them.

"Heaven," Sam replied shortly.

Made sense. Sometimes Gail almost forgot he was God. He had many other things on his plate. It was only because they were his friends that they'd been visited by him on Earth as much as they had been. Her and Cas's problem was extremely serious, but they were not the only ones Bobby had to deal with. She wondered idly if the new board had been formed yet, and how their Angel friends were doing. She hoped word hadn't leaked out about what she and Cas had been going through. Things had been tough enough in Heaven for Castiel over the years without people finding out about what he was now.

"Miss me already?" Crowley quipped, when he'd seen who was calling. He was sitting on the couch in his office, sipping another drink, and he'd been thinking about their little dilemma. The first step in trying to get to his mother would be to set up a meeting with a very objectionable individual. Crowley and the Winchesters were acquainted with this entity through their dealings with him in the past, but Gail had been fortunate enough not to have encountered him yet. Once again, Crowley wondered just how far she was willing to go to obtain the spell that would cure Castiel. He was pretty sure he knew: all the way.

Dean made a face. This was just Crowley being Crowley, he knew, but it still rubbed him the wrong way. The King of Hell had better not think this temporary and forced partnership had turned them back into besties. Dean had just been in Hell, but he was no Demon. Unlike Cas, and maybe Gail now too, he thought bitterly. He'd also seen her eyes.

"We've got Gail here," Dean told Crowley. "I'm putting you on speaker. We need to talk." He pushed the speaker button and put the phone on the table.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Crowley asked casually, but he really did want to know. He'd been wondering which Castiel Gail would see when they got home. He'd seemed too tired to brutalize her tonight.

Gail smiled, and her eyes grew darker as she thought about her victory earlier. "Untouched," she said, almost cheerfully. She was staring off into space, as if Crowley was standing right in front of her. "He did bring the blade into the bedroom again, but I think it was an accident this time. I gave him hell about it, though, and I finally persuaded him to get rid of it. After I put it to his throat."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, open-mouthed. Unbelievable. Now they were starting to worry about Gail in a different way. It wasn't just her eyes, it was the way she was talking about holding a blade on Cas as if it were an amusing anecdote. Not that she wouldn't have plenty of reason, after the way he had treated her. But now the nauseating secret was out. Not only had Cas inflicted numerous bruises and abrasions on her body, but he had obviously used his blade on her, as well. Sam had never been more shocked or more angry in his life. He had suspected that something was up when she'd shown up here bleeding, but he hadn't been able to believe it was anything as bad as that. The next time he saw Cas, Cas was a dead man.

But Crowley threw back his head and laughed, and his eyes began to water. Fantastic. His respect for Gail grew, and so did his affection. "Good girl!" he exclaimed. "And he gave you no further trouble after that?"

"Yep," she confirmed cheerfully. "In fact, he's asleep right now. That's how I was able to come here. I wanted to ask you about that, though. Do you guys sleep?"

As appalled as they were, the Winchesters leaned forward. They really wanted to hear the answer to the question.

Crowley remained amused. "I'll tell you, but I'm not sure you want me to be on speaker when you do," he said, smiling.

Gail paused for a moment. She thought she might have an idea of what he was getting at. But she realized now that she had just accidentally divulged one of the most shameful things that had happened in that bedroom to the brothers.

For a moment there, she'd been talking directly to Crowley. Once again, he had not expressed disgust or judged her for it. And it wasn't as if she'd enjoyed it or had signified to Cas in any way that what he had done was acceptable. In fact, she had left him immediately afterwards. But she should have saved that just for Crowley. Now she had opened up her big mouth, and Dean was looking like he was going to throw up, while Sam was looking murderous. They'd better not ever find out what had happened after Cas had made her bleed; she'd have to peel them off the ceiling.

She sighed. She guessed that was one less secret she had to hide now. "Go ahead, Crowley. Say it," she said.

"Demons only sleep under two circumstances. If we drink heavily, we will sometimes fall asleep for a short time. Although that might be more like passing out," he said dryly. He'd had lots of experience with that particular phenomenon himself; after Gail had killed his mother, Crowley had been at loose ends and he'd wallowed in alcohol for a while, often passing out on this very couch. But he hadn't blamed Gail for killing Rowena then, and he didn't blame her now. In actual fact, she had done him a huge favour. Crowley hated his mother. He hated all witches. Humans had had the right idea when they'd been burning them at the stake.

He continued, "And Demons can also sleep after having been satisfied sexually. Unfortunately, it's been far too long for me in that regard. Unless you'd care to help out? We could negotiate terms," he teased her.

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam barked.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Stand down, Moose. I was only having a laugh." He was going with that.

But Gail was amused. She knew the way Crowley talked by now, and it didn't bother her. She supposed she should feel embarrassed, but what Crowley had said was actually pretty tame, compared to what he could have said. She'd expected far worse, and in much more graphic terms. And it wasn't as if Sam and Dean didn't already know that she and Cas had been having sex. Although the frequency and the variety might shock them a little. But she and Cas had had far more rigorous activities other days, she thought. Maybe it was just because Cas had been so worn out from his trip to Hell.

"The sleep doesn't last long, though," Crowley said. "So I'd be brief, if I were you."

"OK, I will," Gail responded. She was feeling edgy now, anxious to get back before Cas woke up and saw that she was gone. "What are we going to have to do to talk to Rowena?" She had come to the conclusion now that it was possible, and that Crowley knew how to do it. Dean had advised that Crowley seemed to have an idea, and she could just bet that he did.

"A couple of things," Crowley replied evasively. "Before we can possibly get to talk to her, we have to clear it through a certain individual. But this isn't a conversation I want to have over the phone."

Gail sighed. Of course not. But her heart filled with hope. So, there was a way, and Crowley knew it, and he was still willing to help her. But who was this "individual" he was talking about?

"All right, then how can we meet in person?" she asked Crowley. "And what are we going to do about Cas?" Funny, she was certainly spending a lot of time and effort lately trying to get rid of the man she loved. OK, maybe not so funny.

"Leave that to me," Crowley said.

Gail's heart sank. Another foray into Hell to torture countless beings? They were certainly not saints if they were down there, but still...Chuck had been in Hell at one point, and so had Becky. And how about Frank? Were there others like them there, now suffering at Castiel's hands? She wavered between what was right, and what was right for her. Humans faced these kinds of dilemmas all the time, but Gail was literally part Angel and part Demon now, and the two sides were doing battle.

The Angel won out for the moment. "Does he really have to..." she was momentarily at a loss for words, "...do what he was doing today?"

"Growing a conscience, sweetheart?" Crowley said sardonically. "What do you think he's been doing this whole time, hosting tea parties?"

He was right, of course. She'd been sitting by and doing nothing except for washing Cas's bloody clothes and being a mostly willing receptacle for him when he came home. Protecting herself. But why was she doing it? To keep him placated, in the short term. But in the long term, Gail was doing all this plotting and scheming in order to find the cure and to restore Castiel to the kind of Angel and the kind of man she knew him to be. How many wrongs made a right, exactly? Did the end justify the means?

So far, in her mind, it did. So she sighed and said, "Do what you have to do, Crowley. I leave it in your hands."

With those words, the clock on the mantel over the bunker's fireplace chimed. Christmas Day was officially over.

They concluded the call to Crowley, and Gail was feeling a real sense of urgency now. She'd nearly overstayed and been discovered in Hell; if Cas woke up and couldn't find her at the house, there would be no one to bail her out there.

Crowley had told Gail that he would contact her privately once he had set up the meeting with the unidentified individual he'd mentioned, and once he had arranged the latest distraction for Cas. That would have to do for now.

Gail looked at Sam and Dean. "I've got to go," she said. "You'll hear from either me or Crowley shortly." She moved to Sam to give and receive her usual hug, but then she stopped. He was looking at her with an expression that suggested he thought that she and Crowley might be interchangeable at this point, and it was starting to make her mad. She knew what he was thinking.

"It's not as if I liked - " she started to say. "It's not as if I enjoy - " She gave up. Sam was shaking his head.

"I know, Gail," he said sadly. "But you're going back there now, aren't you?"

"Yes, so what's your point?" she said heatedly. "You heard me. He won't be bringing the blade in there again. If he tries that, I'll stick him with it."

Sam was appalled. Did she realize how she sounded? How that sounded? What the hell kind of a relationship was that? Yeah, Cas was a Demon, and yeah, she wanted to cure him, out of some sense of misguided loyalty, maybe. But this was too much.

"Are you happy, Gail?" Dean broke in suddenly.

She turned to look at him, and Dean wondered where that had come from. He'd just blurted it out. But now that he had, he realized it was the world's stupidest question. Of course, she wasn't happy. Look at her. Look at what she went home to every night. But he actually kind of got it, too. He'd do anything for Sam. Anything. And for Cas, too, at least the Cas he knew. And he might as well add Gail to that list now. Loving your family was just like that; you did whatever you had to do for them.

"No, of course not," Gail retorted in answer to Dean's question. "What do you want from me, Dean?"

"I want you to be happy," Dean replied simply.

He would have to go and say that now. "Don't be such an asshat," she said to him, trying to smile. "You're going to make me cry, and then I'll really have some explaining to do."

Gail had had all she could take for the moment. She vanished from the bunker.

Mercifully, Cas was still sleeping, and she eased herself back into the bed and put her arms around him. He started awake, then looked at her, smiling.

"Have I been sleeping?" he asked her softly.

She nodded. "Yep," she said casually. "But not snoring, thankfully."

Cas was a little surprised, but then he shrugged. It's not like that happened all the time; he'd just been so exhausted. "You're not mad, are you?" he asked her.

Gail smiled. If only he knew. "Not at all," she said mildly. "If your batteries need a recharge every now and then, you go right ahead. I can wait."

Cas smiled back. She was being so understanding. But he was awake now. He started to caress her and she kissed him, using her tongue. The Demon was coming out in her now, and she welcomed it. She loved Cas, and if he could just stay within her boundaries, she could enjoy what they did here without losing sight of her goal. The best of both worlds, in a way.

He started to stroke her and she sighed contentedly.

"What do you need, Gail?" he murmured. It had been a while since he'd asked her that, and she realized the answer hadn't changed, though their circumstances had, and radically.

"You," she answered truthfully. She hoped she'd always be able to say that and mean it, like she did right now.

"How?" he asked her.

"Dealer's choice," she replied, smiling.

Cas smiled. No wonder he loved her so much.

While their friends were in the act of loving, the Winchester brothers were in the process of fighting.

"She's in total denial, Dean!" Sam was saying. He was agitated. Ever since their instructional but nauseating phone call to Crowley, Sam had been stewing over what Cas had been subjecting Gail to, and over what she was apparently willing to accept. That business about the blade had been the last straw. Cas was a monster now; not just a Demon, but much, much worse. Dean had been a Demon once, and he hadn't done anything nearly that bad. Or perhaps it was Sam who was in denial on that score.

But Dean wasn't so sure. "I don't think she is," he mused. It had sickened him too to hear Gail and Crowley's verbal exchange about the blade and to realize its implications, but Dean was more pragmatic about the situation. Sam hadn't been there in Hell, thank God, so he hadn't seen and heard Lucifer posing as Cas, saying those horrible things to her. And Sam had never been a Demon. Dean remembered some of the urges he'd had while he was in that state, and there were a few things he had done that he would never tell Sam about. And Dean had almost always felt free to indulge himself even before he'd been a Demon. Cas had been repressed and righteous for untold centuries; now that he was a Demon, he must be like a kid in a candy store.

"What do you mean?" Sam said angrily.

"I mean what I said," Dean shot back. "I think she's fully aware of what he is now. And obviously a part of her likes what he's got to offer. Did you see her eyes?"

Yes, Sam had seen her eyes, and he knew what Dean was telling him. She was part Demon now, too. That was why she was willing to accept what Cas was doing to her. But that didn't mean that Sam had to like it. "We've gotta get that cure, Dean."

"Hey, we're trying," Dean said to his brother. "I even let Crowley kill me, for crap's sake. You haven't truly lived until you've stood there and let the King of Hell stick a knife in your chest." He looked at Sam, eyebrows raised, but Sam was still frowning. "What? Come on, that was a little bit funny."

But Sam didn't think it was funny, not even a little bit. "I wonder who this mysterious 'individual' is that Crowley wants us to meet with," he speculated aloud.

Dean shrugged, Knowing Crowley, it was liable to be anyone. Or anything. "Can't be any worse than who Gail and me just had to see," he remarked.

Sam was still trying to analyze the situation. "Why would we need a go-between to talk to a dead witch?" he said. "Wouldn't she just be in Hell?"

"That's what I thought," Dean said.

"Well, what did Crowley say about that?" Sam asked impatiently.

"He didn't really say anything," Dean replied. "We didn't have much time for a conversation. Cas nearly barged in on us, so Crowley had to get Gail back to where they left her. I still don't know what was going on there, either. I think those three have been having some kind of secret meetings there for a while now."

Sam was upset to hear that Crowley, Cas and Gail had apparently been sneaking around behind their backs like that. Exactly whose side was Gail on? Did she think that she could play for both teams at the same time? He tried to remember the last time they'd had an open and honest discussion with her. She kept popping in here, talking about cures and playing the victim, but then she kept popping back out again before they could talk about anything real. Like what she was doing when she wasn't here. Gail and Crowley seemed a little too familiar these days, and far friendlier with each other than they should be given their history. And now Dean was telling him that she and Cas had apparently been having little get-togethers with Crowley on the side. What did they talk about? What did they do? And what was really going on in that house between Gail and Cas?

Right now, laundry was going on. Cas had fallen into another doze, and Gail had used the opportunity to gather up some clothes and go down to the basement. She threw her clothes and Cas's in together. She didn't mind doing a wash now and then, but she didn't want to make a career out of it. Next time, he could damn well do it himself. Must be nice to be able to sleep while your significant other was making things clean for you.

Speaking of which, maybe she should do some dusting, or something. The rest of the house had gone mainly unused, and the living room area in particular likely had a layer of dust on all the furniture by now. She doubted that Cas had had the foresight to lay in any cleaning supplies, but she thought she'd seen some paper towels in the kitchen when she'd been in there. Maybe she could just use those to get rid of some of the dust.

She went back up to the living room and looked around. They really should spend a bit more time here, she thought. She had to admit that Cas had done a nice job. The furniture was sturdy but comfortable, and the couch was plush. Maybe they could at least shift their activities down here once in a while.

As if reading her mind, Cas came walking down the stairs, yawning. "You weren't there when I woke up."

"I put some clothes in the washer," she told him. "Then I came up here to look around. It really is a nice room. We should spend more time here."

"We can do that," he said. He put his arms around her and kissed her. "Nothing wrong with a little variety."

His tongue was in her mouth now, and his hands were lifting her top. He pulled it off over her head and dropped it on the coffee table. "Let's find out how comfortable that couch really is," he said to her.

She let him lay her down on the couch and he pulled her pants off. Then his were off too, and he pushed her legs open. "So soft," he murmured, smiling. He was caressing the insides of her thighs, teasing her. Was he talking about her, or the couch? Who cared?

"Touch me, Cas," she breathed.

He looked at her, still smiling. "Do you really want me to do that?"

"Yes," she said. Nothing. He was waiting. OK. She knew what he was looking for. Just because she'd had her little victory earlier didn't mean that he wasn't still who and what he was now.

"Please, Cas," she said. "Please."

His face lit up, and he began to stroke her, then he used his tongue. When she was ready, he lifted her legs into the air and slipped into her. He kissed and licked her legs as he moved inside her, and she loved the sensation and loved watching him do it. Gail was very excited now, and she began making those little sounds he liked to hear.

But now that Cas had her attention, he felt the time was right to show her which of them really held the power in this situation. That little stunt she had pulled earlier had been cute, and it had excited him a great deal. But he was on top now, and he intended to stay there until she pushed him off.

So he withdrew from her and put her legs down. "Turn over," he said to her.

Gail looked at him, puzzled. She'd been enjoying what he was doing. "Why?" she asked him.

Cas frowned. "Just do it."

Gail looked at him suspiciously. What was he trying to pull?

"You'll like it, I promise." He smiled now, at his charming best.

She gave a half-shrug. What the hell. The couch was very soft, and she was still excited. She turned over onto her stomach and he raised her hips and re-entered her, reaching around to stroke her with one hand. OK, he was right. This was good. She started to moan. Then he went to the other place, and even though that hurt, he continued to stroke her and after a minute or two the pain receded in favour of the other feeling. She buried her face into the couch cushions, saying his name. He smiled. He'd known she would like it. Boundaries were sometimes elastic, and they could be stretched. He could pull on the elastic, see how far it would stretch until it snapped back. He thought about the blade he'd hidden under the couch. Too soon? But he felt powerful now. The sleep had refreshed him, and Gail had submitted to him. She was whimpering now, moving against him, telling him she loved him. He felt amazing.

He felt around under the couch with his free hand and found the blade. He brought it out and nicked her back with it. Then he laid down on top of her, still moving against her, driving now, and licked the blood that the cut had produced, sighing contentedly. He just wanted all of her. What was so wrong with that? He slipped the blade back under the couch and lifted her hips up, burying himself deep into her, groaning with pleasure.

Gail was so deep into the good feeling that she had no idea what Cas had done. She'd felt a momentary sting on her back, but she'd thought it was from Cas's stubble when he was licking her there. That had felt good too, so she hadn't objected. She didn't mind a little beard-burn on her body here and there. And she had to admit that she was liking this far more than she'd thought she would. They had never done this particular thing in Las Vegas. Maybe they had just never gotten around to it, or maybe Cas had been too shy to suggest it. She certainly never would have. But Demon Cas obviously had no such reservations, and Gail's eyes were growing darker now, too. So when he drove himself deep into her, it hurt, but she said, "Faster." He sped up his motion, and his fingers rubbed her harder. His hand clamped down on her hip, and she would have a bruise there tomorrow. But right now she didn't care. He lay on top of her again and licked her ear. "Say you love me," he murmured. "I love you, Cas," she breathed. "I love you so much." Cas smiled. He loved making her happy like this. She belonged to him now. "Say you'll do anything for me," he said in her ear. OK, a little variation from the routine, but so was what they were doing right now. Gail thought about how good he was making her feel, and what she'd already gone through in her pursuit of the cure. "I'll do anything for you, Cas," she said. Her body erupted in waves of pleasure as he licked her ear and told her he loved her. A moment later, he was still. Hearing her say she would do anything for him had excited him so much that he just couldn't hold out any longer.

After cuddling her for a minute, Cas lifted his body up and helped Gail flip over so that she was facing him again. He licked her lips and she opened her mouth to him. But his tongue tasted funny, and she broke the kiss. "You're bleeding," she said, touching his mouth with her hand.

"No, I'm not," he protested mildly. And it was the truth. It was her blood she was seeing and tasting.

"Well then, what's this?" She showed him the blood on her fingers. He'd probably bitten his lip when he'd gotten so excited. But she didn't see any cut there.

"It's not important," he said, smiling. Now he had a strange look on his face, like he had a secret. He looked very pleased with himself. Mind you, he had a right to be. That had been one of the best sessions they'd had in a while.

"I just love how you taste," Cas said softly. He was almost purring, she thought with amusement. He was being seductive again. Well, she didn't mind him talking like that, especially if he was going to do something about it. She was starting to feel excited again, already.

"Well, if we're going to do that, which would be very, very nice," she said, smiling, "let's go back upstairs. This has been fantastic, but I can stretch out a bit more up there."

She had misunderstood. Although he loved doing that to her, too. "I was talking about your blood," he told her.

Gail was startled. Where would her blood have come from? Yes, he had been a little rough there at the end, but she hadn't minded, not really. But she couldn't think of any way he could have gotten her blood on his lips.

"Where am I bleeding?" she asked him, looking down at herself.

"There's a small nick on your back where I cut you with my blade," Cas said casually. "But don't worry, it was the only one. I just needed to taste you again."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "How - "

"It was under the couch," he said lightly. "I saw the opportunity."

Gail was stunned, and her eyes started to darken. "What the hell is the matter with you?" she shouted. "I told you, no more of that!" She tried to get up, but he grabbed her arms, holding her down.

"You said you would do anything for me," he reminded her, his eyes darkening to match hers.

"Well, I didn't mean that!" She was shaking with anger now. "Let me go!" she exclaimed, struggling against him.

"Not until you understand," he replied evenly.

"The only thing I understand is that you went back on your promise," she retorted.

"You liked what we just did," Cas pointed out. "Even though I could tell it hurt you a bit. I can make you feel amazing, if you'll just let me do that once in a while. I need it."

Now she felt sick. Admittedly, she had liked what they had just done, but this was over the line. If she gave in to what he was suggesting, how long before he pushed it further and she was walking around in pain from head to toe again?

"No," she said shakily. "Now get off me."

"What if I don't?" he said quietly.

Her heart was beating really fast now. She was scared, but she'd better not show it. "You'd better," she said, matching his tone.

Suddenly, he smiled. "You're getting me all excited again." And it was true; she could see it for herself. What kind of a weird relationship did they have now? And how weird was it that she wanted him to take her upstairs anyway?

"OK, let's go upstairs," she said to him. "But first, you wash that off your face. And I'm taking that blade and hiding it somewhere until our next meeting with Crowley."

He stared at her, appearing to consider. But she had won. The elastic had snapped back, and he had enjoyed their exchange. Cas let go of her and stood from the couch, extending his hand to her. And God help her, she took it, and let him lead her up to the bedroom.

Then he was between her legs, and he was licking her with enthusiasm. He really did like the taste of her here, too. And she was loving it. She cried out, holding his head there. He pushed her legs open even further. She would have bruises on the insides of her thighs tomorrow, too. But she could worry about that later. What he was doing to her now was so intense that it was everything.

When he had satisfied her, Cas took her in his arms and kissed her, probing her mouth with his tongue. He hadn't bothered to wash his face, and he was enjoying the taste of all of her. He lifted his body up and pushed himself into her mouth, and she went with the motion, making him moan. What did he need the blade for, anyway? It didn't get any better than this. He closed his eyes, loving the feeling of her mouth and her tongue. He pushed deep into her, and she was taking it. She held the real power here. He needed her more than she needed him, and they both knew it. If she didn't tell him she loved him, who would? He didn't want anybody else, he just wanted her to keep doing this, and to keep letting him do what he did to her. He'd been crazy to think that he could control her. She was pulling the strings, not the other way around. But that didn't mean he would stop pushing, though. He loved it when she pushed back.

He was pushing now, crying out her name, telling her he loved her. And when he was done, he lowered himself to lay beside her and took her in his arms, looking at her warmly. "I love you, and I'll do whatever you want," Cas told her. He kissed her and she opened her mouth, giving him her tongue. She doubted he meant what he said, at least the part about doing whatever she wanted, but she had tamed him once again, for the time being, anyway. But it had been a painful lesson, and tomorrow her body would pay the price. She refused to be a helpless victim any more, but she had better not forget what Cas was now. If she didn't push back, he would either kill her or consume her, and she wasn't sure which would be worse.

Cas had fallen asleep again, and Gail eased herself out of bed. She was moving slowly so as not to disturb him, but as she crossed the bedroom to throw on some clothes, she realized she was extremely sore in a number of places. The old injuries had just begun to heal, and now she had a bunch of new ones. But she had allowed it to happen, and she had enjoyed what he had done to her, and with her. So it was her own fault, really. She had taken her stand about the blade, and that was the most important thing. The other aches and pains were just a by-product of keeping him happy, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been pretty happy, too.

She wished she had time to go looking for the blade, but she didn't have time for both. After she'd dressed, she tiptoed to the nightstand and lifted Cas's cell phone, putting it in her pocket. That was when she noticed her photo was missing. Where was it? But she didn't have time to look for it now, either. She'd better get to it.

Gail crept out of the bedroom and went down to the basement. She hoped Cas's phone got reception down here. She'd wanted to be as far away from the bedroom as possible when she made the call. And she had to be fast; he'd come down earlier, before she'd had the chance to go back up and check on him. Luckily, she hadn't been doing anything that time that he could catch her at.

She brought up the display on his phone that said Last Called, and she was relieved to see that it was Crowley's number. That way, when he used the phone next, that's what he would see if he looked; hopefully, he wouldn't notice the date and time.

Gail pressed the button and called Crowley.

"What's happening?" she said when Crowley answered.

"Whatever happened to 'Hello'?" he asked her. He sounded amused.

"I don't have much time," she told him. "Cas is napping right now, but I don't think it's a very deep sleep."

"Well, then, you're just not trying hard enough, sweetheart," he said, and now she could definitely hear the smile in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's been sleeping plenty, don't you worry," she retorted. But why was she justifying herself to the King of Hell, anyway? Gail wondered. She knew he was just trying to needle her. So to speak.

Crowley laughed. "Don't get that Demon blood of yours boiling, now," he said lightly. "Save that temper for my Brother. I want to receive more reports like the one you gave me a little while ago."

Gail smiled despite herself. He really was pretty funny sometimes. But she'd better get down to business. "Have you been able to arrange anything yet?" she asked him.

"It just so happens that I have," he told her. "I've got a meeting set up for us for later this morning. Be at the bunker at 8:30, and I'll call Sam and Dean and tell them to expect us." He paused, then asked her a curious question: "I know you don't eat any more, but can you cook?"

Gail wrinkled her brow. That was a weird question. "Yeah, I guess so. Sam and I used to make breakfast together a lot in the bunker. Nothing fancy, of course, but if you're looking to feed whoever we're meeting with, I'm sure we can put something on for them." Now Gail was really intrigued. They obviously weren't meeting with an otherworldly being, if Crowley had promised breakfast. What kind of human would this be? she wondered.

And there was something else she needed to know: "What about Cas?" Gail asked Crowley.

"I have a project lined up for him," he told her. "and before you say anything, it's not in Hell this time. I don't want him there when I'm not there, and I have to be with you at the meeting. This particular individual is a little hard to pin down. He was actually very reluctant to come at all, but then I told him that you were going to be there."

"Me?" She was surprised. "Who are we meeting with, Crowley?"

"You'll see when we get there. Anyway, I'll call Castiel in a few minutes and have him meet me at the crossroads, then I'll send him on his little errand. When the coast is clear, I'll let you know, and you can pop over to the bunker. I'll have Sam and Dean meet us outside, so we can go directly to the meeting place."

"Okay," Gail said. "I'm using his phone right now, so give me a few minutes to put it back where it was before you call." She pressed End Call and hurried upstairs, anxious to get the phone back on the nightstand before Castiel woke up and noticed that both she and it were missing.

She walked quietly into the bedroom with the phone in her hand. Mercifully, he was still asleep. She walked to the nightstand to replace the phone, and as she reached out to set it down, the phone rang, and Cas's eyes opened.

Damn Crowley! She'd asked him to give her a few minutes!

Cas's hand clamped down on the wrist of the hand she was holding the phone in. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"The phone rang, and I hurried over here to answer it so it wouldn't wake you," she answered him quickly. She handed him the ringing phone.

He released her wrist and took the phone from her, but his eyes narrowed. Why was she dressed, then?

Gail could see the way he was looking at her, and she cursed herself. Why had she gotten dressed to make the call? The simple and illogical reason was that she hadn't wanted to call Crowley while she was naked. But Cas was looking at her now, wondering why she was already dressed if she had just gotten up to answer the phone. Dammit!

He looked at the Call Display. "It's Crowley," he said to her. He answered the phone. "What?"

Gail thought furiously. Since he was occupied now, she'd see if she could figure out a reason. Then she had it. The laundry. She had flipped the clothes over into the dryer after he'd fallen asleep the last time, but she hadn't taken them out.

She walked back down into the basement and opened the dryer, taking the clothes out and folding them on top of the washer. She was nearly finished when she heard him coming down the stairs into the basement.

"What did Crowley want?" she said casually, folding the last shirt.

Silence. She turned around to see him staring at her. "What?" she said lightly.

"Why are you dressed?" he asked her quietly. "And why were you dressed when you answered the phone?"

Lucky, she had anticipated the question. "I was about to come down here to get the clothes when the phone rang," she told him, trying to keep her voice steady. "So I tried to pick it up quickly, so it wouldn't wake you. I was going to take a message. But you woke up, so I came down here and got the laundry."

"But why were you dressed?" he persisted.

Gail forced a laugh. "In case you haven't noticed, it's chilly down here. It is winter, you know. And I notice you're dressed, too."

He started to smile. She had him there. He had been nice and warm in the bed, but he had jumped out of it when he heard what Crowley had had to say, and after they hung up, he'd felt cold. So, he had thrown on a pair of pants and a shirt and then searched the house for her.

"Are you cold?" Cas asked her.

She'd already been shaking, so it was easy for her to manufacture a shiver. "A little," she told him.

"Well, come here, then," he said, opening his arms. He embraced her warmly and kissed her on the forehead. "Any time you feel cold, you just let me know," he said softly.

She clung to him. If she could have, say, 75% of him the way he was being right now, and 25% of him the way he'd been last night, without the fear and the violence, she'd take that all day long.

Cas pulled out of the hug. "Unfortunately, I have to go," he said to her.

"Go? Go where?" she asked innocently.

"Crowley's got a special project for me," he said evasively. He didn't want to tell her exactly what Crowley had said. Cas wasn't sure if she would approve, and while he didn't particularly care, he didn't want to argue about it. He reached out and gave her a squeeze. "Nothing to be concerned about. I'll be back as soon as I can." He expected her to ask him questions, or to ask to go with him, so he was surprised when she merely said, "OK. I'll see you when you get back, then."

One more kiss, and he winked out of the house to meet Crowley at the crossroads. Her lack of interest in what he and Crowley were up to should have raised a red flag, but Cas had been just so damn excited by Crowley's phone call that he didn't stop to think about it. Crowley had told him that he had located Xavier.

After Cas left, Gail grabbed the clothes and ran upstairs, dumping them on the floor in the closet. She didn't think she'd have time to hang them up. As it was, she didn't know if she'd have time for a shower, but she had to have one anyway. So she ran into the bathroom, stripping her clothes off on the way, and jumped into the shower.

She heard Crowley's voice in her head just as she was putting on fresh clothes. "Time to come to the bunker, sweetheart. And you'd better hurry." She finished dressing, combed her hair, and popped out of the house.

When Cas appeared at the crossroads, he realized he didn't have his blade. Stupid, really. Funny, he couldn't recall a time when he'd ever gone anywhere without it. He preferred his Earthly clothes for the way they made him look, but it was a pain having to change them all the time. Of course, his blade was currently under the living room couch at the moment, unless Gail had stashed it somewhere else, as she had threatened to do. Damn it.

He was just about to pop back home to retrieve it, or to make her tell him where she'd hidden it, when Crowley appeared.

"Hold on," he told Crowley, "I have to go home and get my blade."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. Castiel had actually shown up for a meeting with the King of Hell without his trusty blade? Wonders never ceased. For an instant, he contemplated just killing Castiel right then and there, putting everyone out of their misery. He was nothing but a burden to the Winchesters now, and to Gail, as well. They were jumping through flaming hoops to try to sort out a cure for his Brother, and none of them even knew if the spell could be reversed at all. If it could not, Bobby would be faced with the horrifying task of sacrificing Castiel, and perhaps Gail, too, depending on whether she was so far gone that she was beyond redemption. And even if they were successful in effecting a cure and rehabilitating Castiel, Crowley knew that it would be a long and difficult road back for him. His actions thus far had severely damaged his relationship with Dean and especially Sam, maybe irrevocably. And as for Gail? Who knew? The longer she stayed in that house with him, the worse things were likely to get. Crowley wouldn't be at all surprised if she broke down soon and killed his Brother herself. But she'd best remember that an Angel blade would no longer do the job.

The King of Hell sighed. He supposed he would let Castiel live, for now, anyway. Crowley had gone to a lot of trouble to set up this morning's meeting, and he did not dare screw around with this individual.

"You don't need your blade for this," Crowley pointed out to his Brother. "Xavier is human, remember?"

Castiel considered this. What Crowley said was true, but he really wanted to spend some time with Xavier before killing him, and to use anything but his own blade on an individual he hated that much was unthinkable. He owed Xavier a great deal of payback. This was personal, and he needed to use his own personal weapon.

"No, I need my blade," Cas protested. "Wait here." He popped into the living room of the house. He could hear the shower going upstairs, and he smiled. She was going to be scrubbed clean when he got home, and she would smell so nice. He wished he had time to pop in there for a visit. But Crowley was not liable to wait for too long; his Brother was irascible at the best of times, and he was not very patient. And if he had found Xavier and was willing to lead Cas to him, Cas had better not keep him waiting. This was something Cas wanted very much.

So he felt around under the couch and found his blade where he'd left it. He withdrew it from its hiding place and looked at it, smiling, remembering his experience with Gail on this couch. A few drops of her blood were still on the blade and seeing that made him feel warm inside. He didn't understand why she couldn't just go with it. It wasn't as if he was going to harm her, he just wanted to enhance what they already did, what she was already very willing to do, with that extra layer of intimacy. She would never have even known about it if he had not been honest with her. But then he had gotten away with a few things last night, and she had ended up loving what he had done. He saw no reason he couldn't do it again. It was easier to do it first, then ask for forgiveness afterwards. She might be mad, but he didn't mind that. He liked seeing her eyes darken. But, it was strange; after he'd dosed her the second time, her eyes had remained the same colour, and she had acted differently than she was acting now. Had the second dose taken this long to kick in? It was curious, really.

But there was no time to think about that now. He stashed the blade in his pocket, leaving Gail's blood on it. When he used it on Xavier and told her about it later, he was sure she would approve. Xavier had persecuted her too, and he had attempted to put her to death. When he tortured Xavier with a blade that already had Gail's blood on it, it would be like she was torturing Xavier, too. Real justice, finally, for the both of them.

He smiled grimly, winking out of the house once more.

When Cas reappeared at the crossroads, Crowley was still there, but he was fuming. He'd had to wait to make sure Castiel was happily occupied elsewhere, but now they were behind schedule.

"Got it," Cas said, patting his pocket.

Crowley glared at him, then removed a piece of paper from his own pocket. "Here's a list of shelters he's been spotted at." He handed the piece of paper to Castiel.

Cas looked at it. "There must be twenty places on here!" he said angrily. "I thought you said you'd located him!"

"He's a transient," Crowley said. "He moves around from place to place, depending on availability. I'm sure you remember what that's like," he couldn't resist adding. When God had taken away Castiel's powers and made him a human, Castiel had led the same kind of lifestyle for a while. Crowley knew this, of course.

Cas was frustrated. Was he supposed to go on a fishing expedition here? He made to hand the paper back to Crowley. "Maybe we should just wait until you've narrowed it down a bit more."

Now it was Crowley's turn to be angry, but he was aware of the clock ticking, as well. Why did his Brother have to make everything so difficult?

"Do you or do you not want to take your revenge on Xavier?" Crowley snapped. "I'm doing you a big favour here. You've been so busy using your blade that you've forgotten how to use your head." And not just on his enemies, either. Crowley was inexplicably angry that Castiel had been using it on Gail, as what the King of Hell could only assume was an odd sort of foreplay. But why should Crowley care about what went on behind closed doors in that house, anyway? He wasn't bucking for sainthood. But when she had come to him Christmas morning, bleeding and looking so pathetic, Crowley had felt compassion for her, a rare emotion for him. He was glad that she had now laid down the law on the subject, but Crowley suspected that his Brother wasn't going to let that stand for long.

Castiel frowned at the insult. "What do you mean?" he barked.

"Think about it," Crowley retorted. "We've got the search area narrowed down, and he had been spotted at some of those places. But if you don't act now, he could go off the radar at any time. And if he does, there's no guarantee we'll be able to find him again. Surely a little effort on your part is warranted if you want to achieve your goal."

Cas sighed. He supposed Crowley was right. "OK," he said, looking at the list again. "I'll see you later, then." He disappeared without another word.

Not even a thank you. Typical. But Crowley could be angry about that later. He was running late now as it was. So he sent the urgent message to Gail and then snapped his fingers, reappearing outside the bunker.

Sam and Dean were already outside when Crowley reappeared, and a minute later, Gail showed up.

"Hi," she said to the men.

"Let's roll," Dean said to Crowley, who smiled inwardly. Dean wouldn't be in such a hurry if he knew who they were going to meet. He put his hand on Dean's arm and motioned to Gail to do the same thing with Sam.

"Patty's Diner, on 3rd," Crowley said to her. Now that she knew where they were going, Gail could pop Sam over there, while Crowley did the same thing with Dean.

Gail was startled. That was the same place she had gone to with Frank the day they'd had their last drive together. It was likely just a coincidence, but it was weird just the same. What was Frank doing now? she wondered. She felt a stab of guilt. She hadn't even spoken to her brother since he's left on the road to resume Hunting. She'd been so happy to have him back, and now she was behaving as if he didn't exist. But it was for Frank's own good. If he saw her now, he would freak out. Even if he wasn't able to see most of the marks Cas had been leaving on her body, he would notice her eyes, and the change in her personality. Frank had told her he knew Demon when he saw it, and Gail couldn't risk him finding out the truth about her and Cas. He would feel compelled to get involved, and then Cas would kill him.

They reappeared inside the diner, and Crowley moved immediately, locking the door and pulling the window blinds shut. Gail and the Winchesters looked around. The place was deserted, except for the man wearing a suit who was sitting at a table near the back-kitchen area.

Dean groaned. "Come on, Crowley! Really?" he said, looking at the man.

Sam laughed shortly, shaking his head. Great.

But Gail was puzzled. Sam and Dean obviously knew this guy, and they were also obviously not thrilled to see him now. But she had no idea who he was. He was a pale, dour-looking individual. He did not say anything in greeting; he just sat there and stared at them.

Crowley walked over to where the man sat and made a small bow to him. "My Brother," he said deferentially.

"Crowley," the man acknowledged briefly.

"I believe you've made Sam and Dean's acquaintance once or twice," Crowley said with a slight smile, as the brothers approached the table.

"Unfortunately, that is true," the man replied, and his mouth twitched in a moue of distaste.

Sam and Dean glared at him. The feeling was mutual. Actually, now that they thought about it, it figured that this guy would be involved.

The man stared past them at Gail. "But I am eager to make your acquaintance," he said to her.

Sam and Dean moved involuntarily to block the man's view of Gail. It made them extremely uncomfortable for him to look at her with such interest.

But the man crooked his finger, and the brothers were pushed apart. "Have a seat, gentlemen," the stranger said to them evenly, continuing to stare at Gail. The Winchesters didn't like it, but they complied. This guy was nobody to mess with.

OK, definitely not human then, Gail thought, moving to approach the table where he sat.

"May I present Gail," Crowley said formally. Gail looked at him sharply. It had been a while since she'd been formally introduced to an otherworldly being without the prefix "the Angel". But she had to face it; she wasn't one any more, was she?

The man inclined his head to her as Crowley looked at Gail. "And may I introduce Death."

Gail's blood ran cold. Was he kidding with this? But she was looking at the expressions on the Winchesters' faces, and they weren't smiling. Now that she thought about it, it only made sense, in a way. Rowena was dead, wasn't she? Did they have to appeal to Death so he could bring her back to help them?

"I have you at a disadvantage," Death said to Gail, motioning for her to take a seat across from him. "I have seen you before, but you have not seen me."

A chill raced up Gail's spine at his comment. But she supposed that only made sense, too. After all, she had died twice now. But why had she not seen him when she had?

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you, then," she said to him, sitting down as he had instructed. "I have died, after all. Twice." Incredibly, she felt her mouth twitch, trying to smile. She guessed she should be used to things like this by now, but she was sitting in a diner talking to Death about having died. There had to be a joke in there somewhere. She was sure Chuck could appreciate the alliteration, if nothing else.

"Is there something you find amusing?" Death asked her coolly.

Her blood ran cold again. "No," she replied. Then, "Well, yes. This is just so strange. I mean, come on."

Crowley winced. He knew Gail's way of talking by now, but she'd better speak to Death with respect, or her search for a cure would be a moot point.

But a small smile was playing at the corners of Death's mouth now. "Your point is taken. Yes, you have died twice before. But you were extremely fortunate not to make my acquaintance the first time. Castiel had to cash in his chips with our Father to obtain permission for you to ascend directly." Realistically, Death would usually not have deigned to personally escort an ordinary human such as Gail had been, interesting powers notwithstanding. But she was an exception. Death had known of the pivotal part she would play within the Winchesters' world the instant that Gail was born, and he knew that she was even more special now. He could tell immediately that she was no longer a pure Angel, of course. Crowley had not divulged many details about her in their conversation prior to this meeting. He had told Death about Castiel's predicament though, and uncharacteristically for Crowley, he had just reported the facts without adding his usual snarky comments. Death had been astounded. How had Castiel fallen so far, so fast? The last time he had met up with the former Angel, Castiel had been God. Now, based on what Crowley had told him, Castiel was about two steps removed from rivalling the King of Hell himself. There was obviously some very dark magic at work here.

Gail's heart warmed at the thought of Castiel asking God for such a big favour on her behalf. This was confirmation for her that they were doing the right thing by pursuing the cure. That was the kind of man he really was, and the kind of man Gail wanted to see him be again.

"And the second time, you were an Angel already, albeit on a temporary vacation," Death continued dryly. "So you ascended directly, of course."

"Then when did you see me?" Gail asked him curiously.

"In Haiti," Death replied tersely.

Now Gail remembered. Cas had told her that Death was there that day, and that they'd had a conversation. But she had not been able to see him then. Why could she see him now?

"I can only appear to people who have already been dead, and then only if I wish for them to see me," Death told her. But she had not spoken aloud.

"Can you read my thoughts, too?" she asked Death, dismayed. First God, then Crowley, now Death? What was it about her?

"Yes," he replied. "I am the beginning of everything, and the end of everything."

Wow. She wasn't sure if that was existential, or just pretentious. But she supposed that if anybody could say that about themselves, it would be him.

Death smiled grimly. "I understand you seek a favour."

Gail looked at Crowley helplessly. What exactly was she expected to say here?

"We need your permission to pierce the veil of the Netherworld and speak with my mother," Crowley said smoothly.

Gail and the Winchesters exchanged glances. The Netherworld? What was that?

"The Netherworld is a place where elite entities go once they are dead," Death explained to them. "Rowena is there now, and I escorted Castiel there myself. Only to have you take him back, Crowley. You could have at least called," he rebuked Crowley. "Saved me the trip. Oh, and you took Metatron from me, as well. And now you're here, asking me for a favour." He leaned back in his chair. "And I still haven't received my offering."

Gail was alarmed. Did he require some kind of sacrifice first? If so, she would just pop home and pack her bags right now. She'd never be Demon enough for that.

But incredibly, Sam and Dean were smiling. "What do you say, Gail?" Sam said to her. "Do you want to come to the kitchen and see what we can put together for breakfast?"

She looked at him quizzically. Was he trying to get her out of the room? But then she remembered Crowley asking her if she could cook.

Crowley smiled at the confused expression on her face. "Death is what humans might call a 'foodie',' he told her.

"Oh." Really? How weird was that?

Sam stood and took Gail's hand, pulling her in the direction of the kitchen. "Come on, Gail. I'll see if there's a radio in there, if you'd like." He knew how she liked her music. He smiled faintly, remembering happier times in the bunker. He hoped they'd have them again. But right now, they had to make a meal for Death.

This was the tenth shelter Cas had been to, and he was getting very frustrated. He didn't have a picture of Xavier, of course, so he'd had to describe the former Angel to everyone he spoke to. But most of the men were unresponsive. Maybe they'd seen the guy, maybe they hadn't. Most of them asked him for money, and a few asked him to take them to the nearest liquor store. One even offered to please Cas if he would buy him a bottle. The old Castiel would have looked upon these men with compassion. Their lives had become unmanageable and intolerable, and they drank alcohol just to get them through another day of despair. But the new Cas was disgusted. They were dirty and they smelled bad, and he was growing tired of wallowing in the filth. The only thing that had kept him going thus far was the prospect of seeing Xavier like this. And then having a nice extended discussion with his former nemesis.

So, he persevered, and at the next shelter he hit pay dirt. There was a long lineup of men outside the kitchen, waiting for it to open up for breakfast. They'd had their turkey dinner yesterday, served to them by all the local celebrities and politicians who generally showed up once or twice a year, seeking photo ops. The rest of the year, these men were forgotten, left to fend for themselves. But there was breakfast at least, and they could go out into the world to do whatever it was they did with food in their stomachs.

Xavier was two-thirds of the way down the line, and he was impatient and extremely hungry. Why didn't they just open up, already? Hopefully, they'd have lots of leftovers from Christmas. Maybe then he would get fed. A lot of times if you were this far back in the line, they ran out of food, and then you were pretty much out of luck. You could race around to the other shelters, but by the time you got there, they were in the same predicament, or they'd just reached capacity. He should have come yesterday; at least he would have been guaranteed to get a meal. No one was turned away on Christmas Day, not with all those cameras there. But he'd spent the day yesterday in an alleyway with a couple of bottles he'd successfully stolen. Xavier had known it was Christmas Day, of course, and his mood had been dark and depressed. He supposed it should mean nothing to him now; he was no longer an Angel, and God was no longer his Father. Castiel may have imposed this punishment on Xavier, but God had sanctioned it.

He and Alexander had been travelling companions for a while, and when they'd first gotten to Earth, life as a human had seemed so easy. Everywhere they'd looked, people were happy, healthy, and thriving. It didn't seem that hard to them. They had been elite Angels, and they were intelligent men. They could get jobs that made good money and live well.

But they'd soon discovered it was not nearly that easy. They had no ID, and no way to explain where they'd been and what they'd been doing all those years. It seemed that every job required something called a "resume", listing one's job experiences, and of course, they had none. And the vessels they inhabited had the appearance of men in their 70s, though they were much, much older than that. Even the few places that were willing to overlook the usual requirements were not interested in hiring new employees of such an advanced age.

They had no jobs, no street smarts, and no knowledge of human ways. They had never cared to find out how humans got through life, as they'd thought humans insignificant. But now Xavier and Alexander were in their number, and they were lost. Then Alexander had discovered alcohol, and he had fallen head-first into the bottle and never came out. Then he had left the shelter he and Xavier had been staying in, and Xavier had not seen him again.

Xavier had resisted the lure of alcohol for as long as he could, but eventually, he too had succumbed. The turning point had been the day he had been accosted by that man in the alley.

Xavier had been digging through the dumpster, looking for anything he could find that was edible or for any empty cans or bottles that he could redeem for a bit of money. He had never dreamed how painful real hunger could be. It was ridiculous to expect people to go through life without the basic sustenance and shelter that should be everyone's due. He had heard that humans were imbued with the same qualities as God Himself, but so far, all Xavier had noticed about humans was that they were self-centered hedonists with no compassion for others. The irony of the latter observation was completely lost on him, now that he was the one who was doing the suffering.

The stranger approached him as he was climbing out of the first bin. He'd come up with nothing, and Xavier had had to get a breath or two of fresh air before he moved on to the next one.

He looked at the man. "You look like you need some help, my friend," the stranger said to him.

"I'm very hungry," Xavier told him. "I'm looking for some food."

"Been there," the man said, almost cheerfully. "It's a tough old world, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Xavier replied, relieved that this man seemed to understand.

"I might be able to help you out," the stranger said, "if you're willing to help me out."

Xavier was puzzled. What could he possibly do for this man? He wasn't an Angel any more.

"Come here and we'll talk about it," the man said. Xavier approached him, and the man grabbed Xavier's arm and steered him behind the dumpster, saying, "It'll be more private here." He undid his pants and let them drop, and he grabbed Xavier's hand and put it on himself. "If you take care of me good, I'll give you some money for food."

Xavier was too stunned to speak, or even to move. Contrary to what everyone else in Heaven might think, he knew exactly what this man wanted. It was all too familiar.

The stranger was in an obvious state of excitement now, and he moved against Xavier's hand. "Why don't you get down on your knees?" he said to Xavier. "There'll be an extra few dollars in it for you if you do a good job."

"No," Xavier breathed. "No, I can't. Not again. Never again."

Then his paralysis broke, and he ran out of the alley. Xavier ran for blocks and blocks until he was out of breath, and then he slumped down to the sidewalk, panting and sweaty. At least, he told himself that it was sweat that was running down his cheeks.

When he'd composed himself a little, Xavier ventured into another alleyway. He was frightened now, jumping at every shadow, but his hunger and thirst drove him to it. And finally, he was rewarded. He found a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the ground. There was no one nearby, Xavier had made sure of that. So he saw the opportunity and he took it. He fell to his knees and grabbed the bottle, taking a drink. The liquid burned down his throat and he coughed, but he kept it down. So he took another drink, and another, and soon the bottle was empty. He went to stand up and lost his balance, falling down on his rear end. That struck Xavier as funny for some reason, and he laughed. He was drunk! He'd never been drunk before. It was a really weird feeling. But suddenly, he wasn't all that hungry any more.

Xavier finally managed to crawl to the other side of the dumpster and he found another bonus: a rolled-up carpet. Just the thing to serve as a pillow. His head was spinning now, and he laughed again at the funny feeling. He would just lay down for a few minutes until the dizziness went away. And he would not think about food, the stranger in the alley, or his uncle. He would definitely not think about his uncle.

But of course, when he passed out, Xavier dreamed about his childhood and the weekend outings with his uncle.

Xavier's father was hard-working and was rarely home, and when he was, he was distant and preoccupied. His mother was devout and God-fearing, and she made sure that her son was being brought up in the good Christian way. Church at least three times a week, Bible lessons every day. She'd even given him an old-school, Bible-type name to set him on the right path. Xavier was an only child; it was bad enough that she had had to do what she'd done with his father to have him in the first place. After Xavier came along, his mother moved into the spare bedroom and began locking the door at night. His father hadn't seemed to mind, but maybe that was why he was away from home so much.

Xavier had grown up craving love and acceptance, but all he got was apathy and Bible verses. Then his mother's brother had moved in with them, and he had begun to spend time with the boy. He would take Xavier fishing sometimes, and listen to him as he talked about school, and the Bible. Xavier grew to love his uncle, and he loved spending time with him. Then his uncle started incorporating physical affection into their outings, and when he thought young Xavier was ready, he took his nephew away for an entire weekend and showed him the things that adults did in bed with each other. There was nothing wrong with it, his uncle told him. Everyone did it, or wanted to do it, and the people that condemned it had obviously never tried it.

But Xavier was confused. He was still a child, and his mother and the Bible had taught him it was a sin. Not so, said his uncle. It was all in the way you looked at it. How could anything that felt so good be a sin?

And Xavier had to admit it did feel pretty good, sometimes. He was not mature enough to understand the implications, but his uncle had trapped Xavier with his love and attention, and he had threatened to leave the house if Xavier would not continue to make him happy. So the young boy felt like he had no choice, even though he burned with shame every time his uncle touched him like that.

Then one night, his uncle came to Xavier's room at the house. Up until then, he had been smart enough to keep their activities away from the home, but the need had overwhelmed him that night and young Xavier was right down the hall. So he had let himself into Xavier's room and woken him up, cautioning him to be very, very quiet. And when Xavier had been reluctantly pleasuring his uncle with his mouth, Xavier's mother had walked into the room.

She'd inexplicably woken up in the middle of the night, and an urge had come upon her to share a particularly inspiring Bible passage she'd read before bed with her son. It made no sense that she should want to do this in the middle of the night, but Xavier's mother went with her instincts. There were plenty of things in the Bible that didn't make logical sense on the surface, but then had turned out right in the end. Look at Noah and the ark, for instance. So she grabbed the Bible from the nightstand, shrugged her robe on, and went to Xavier's room.

She froze at the door as she realized that what she was seeing was what she was actually seeing.

"What are you doing?" she screamed. She threw the Bible at her brother and it struck him in the head. He jumped up and closed his pants immediately, but of course it was too late.

"Get out of my house!" she yelled at him. "Now!"

Xavier's uncle hurried out of the room, and his mother came forward, picking her Bible up off the floor. She wheeled on Xavier. "What you were doing is a sin," she hissed at him. "That kind of pleasure is wrong, and anyone who does it is bound for Hell. I'm taking you to church tomorrow and you'll be re-baptized, and then we will never speak of this again."

"But Mother," Xavier protested, even though deep down he knew she was quite right, "Uncle says people do it all the time. He told me you and Father did it to have me."

His mother wound up and smacked Xavier across the face with the Bible, hard. "You will not speak to me like that," she said quietly.

Xavier was crying now, but in a way, he guessed he had deserved that. He had let his uncle lead him into sin, and he was deeply ashamed. Never again.

"Never again," Xavier murmured, coming out of the dream. He opened his eyes and saw that it was light out. Being human was torture, but he had to admit that sleep was a wonderful escape. Though he could have done without the reminder of his dark childhood secret. But it wasn't as if Xavier had ever really forgotten; he had simply repressed it for all those centuries. If he didn't acknowledge that it had happened, it would be as if it never did.

He had died young, of a simple case of food poisoning. There was no medical technology back then, and by the time his parents had realized there was something seriously wrong with their son, it was already too late. He died in his bed, his mother weeping over his body and reading passages from the same Bible she'd hit him with in that same room several years prior. She prayed to God to keep his soul, but she never mentioned what had happened here in her prayers. And, somewhat tellingly, she had never asked God to save her son.

But Xavier had ascended because, after all, he had done nothing wrong. He served God faithfully for centuries after that, and the experience of his childhood had shaped the type of Angel he became. Eventually, Xavier graduated to Upper Echelon status, and he had been happy to meet and serve with other like-minded Angels on the board.

But Castiel had always been a thorn in Xavier's side. He had no regard for the rules, and he was always off doing his own thing. Their Father indulged Castiel, seemingly letting him do whatever he wanted. And he had the same exalted status as the others on the board; in fact, Castiel was the Senior member, as he had been around since Creation. But he couldn't, or wouldn't, act properly. Then came the Angel wars, then God left Heaven for a while, then came the first of the tribunals. Xavier was firmly established in Heaven as an elder statesman by then, and he took up the mantle of the righteous, judging other Angels for both their real and their perceived sins, using his own standards. Gail had been quite right when she'd asked by whose standards what they had done in Las Vegas were being judged. The answer was: by Xavier's, of course. Both what his uncle had done to him and his mother's teachings had warped him so much that Xavier had come to believe that any sign of affection was wrong, because it could lead to sin and perversion. Then along had come Castiel, holding hands with Gail and kissing her in public. They'd tried to say that what they had done in that hotel room in Las Vegas was acceptable, but Xavier knew that it was not. When Xavier had finally been given the opportunity to put Castiel on trial for his multitude of sins and offenses against Heaven, he had wanted Gail up on that cross too, as an example to the Angels he knew were looking at Castiel and Gail as a positive example.

But in the end, Xavier had lost, and Castiel had exacted his punishment. He should have just sent Xavier to Hell in the first place; it couldn't be much worse than this. Constant hunger, bone-chilling cold, being either vilified or ignored by your fellow man. Trying to scrape by from one day to the next. No goals, and nothing to look forward to.

So once Xavier had had that first blessed experience with alcohol, he began to focus on what he could do to obtain more. He had continued to root around in dumpsters and garbage cans for any bottles he could redeem, not so much looking for food now as for money, so that he could buy liquor. If he got there early enough, he could get breakfast at the shelter and then spend the remainder of the day scrounging and begging on the streets.

He was in line for breakfast the day after Christmas when Castiel saw him. Xavier had his head down, and he was dozing lightly as he waited. Cas nearly walked past him, but even though Xavier looked different now, there was something about his former adversary's face that had made him stop.

Cas poked the man on the arm to get him to look up. Once he saw the eyes, he'd know for sure.

Xavier started awake, and he looked at Cas, his eyes widening. "Castiel?" he said hoarsely. No, it couldn't be.

"Xavier," Cas said, smiling. He recognized those eyes, though it was strange not to see the contempt in them that Cas had grown so used to.

"What are you doing here?" Xavier asked, astonished at both Castiel's presence here and at seeing his odd-looking purple eyes. Xavier had seen a lot of shades of blue over the centuries, but he had never seen them purple before.

"Why, I'm here to see you, Xavier," Cas said pleasantly, taking Xavier's arm. "Let's go somewhere and talk."

Xavier looked at him. What could Castiel possibly want to talk to him about? They hated each other. Then his heart leaped. Was Castiel here to take him back to Heaven? Maybe Bobby had decided that Xavier had learned his lesson, and he was going to be shown mercy.

So he let his former Brother lead him away from the shelter, looking forward to their conversation now. If Xavier were to be given a second chance at salvation, he would gladly suffer through a chat with Castiel to get it.

Death was eating the breakfast that Sam and Gail had prepared, and he was taking his time. Crowley knew better than to rush him, but the King of Hell was getting agitated. Most of his meetings with Death over the centuries had been brief, both parties stating that they had too much to do to waste time on idle chit-chat. But they'd both been lying, of course. They were both mainly figureheads, with minions under them who did the real work. Crowley had Demons, Death had Reapers. They could have taken all day if they'd wanted to. But even though Crowley was forced to respect Death, he didn't much like him. They'd known each other since Creation, but Death had never changed, and he had never evolved. Except for his weird predilection for food, something Crowley suspected their Father had sprinkled in just to keep things interesting, Death had no discernible personality and no sense of humour. Hard to spend a lot of time with a guy like that.

Death didn't have much time for the likes of Crowley, either. There was no room for emotion in their sort of dealing, and Death didn't see the point in humour; it just wasted time. But he did enjoy his food, and to him, savouring it was not a waste of time; it was a communion, of sorts. Out of all of the pleasures that his Father had created, it was by far his favourite.

The breakfast they had made for him was simple fare, but it was good, and he'd been enjoying it. But Death could sense that Crowley was getting agitated, and he supposed he'd better get to it. Besides, they'd made a big plate, and he was getting full.

Death scooped a piece of egg onto his fork and extended it across the table to Gail. "Here, have a taste," he said to her.

She looked at him warily. They had all just been sitting here quietly, watching him eat. Even Dean had remained still, though she could see that he was just about ready to blow. And a couple of times she had looked up at Crowley, appealing with her eyes, but he had given her an almost imperceptible shake of his head. One didn't disturb Death when he was enjoying a meal.

Sam stirred in his chair. He and Gail had made the breakfast in silence for the most part. After a couple of attempts at conversation, Sam had given up when Gail had said, "Let's just get this done, Sam." She was tense, wondering what Cas was doing and if they were going to be done here in time for her to return home before he did. Making breakfast seemed like such a waste of time, and it was so weird. She too was thinking about all the times she and Sam had made meals together in the bunker, and she couldn't help but compare this with those. She caught Sam staring at her, trying to think of a subject to bring up for conversation. They'd never had any trouble talking under these circumstances before, about any number of subjects. But she could tell he regarded her differently now. Gail was aware that Sam had had a bit of a crush on her when they'd first met, and if she had not met Castiel, she might very well have felt the same way. They were equally matched in both intellect and temperament, and she knew he had a good heart. But she couldn't help the way she felt. As soon as she'd seen Castiel and felt his gaze on her, she'd been a goner. And she still loved Cas now, even though she hated what Metatron's evil cocktail had done to him. It would be so easy to just pack up her things and return to the bunker and to the safety and security of Sam and Dean. But she had some Demon in her too now, and that part of her kept resisting. She felt as if the brothers were judging her for staying in the house with Cas. She could understand their bewilderment; Cas had scared her and brutalized her, and as she moved around the kitchen, Gail could feel the pain from the bruises and abrasions she'd received last night. She wondered herself sometimes why she stayed there, as well. Was it love? Loyalty? Obligation? But if she spent too much time analyzing her motivations and her emotions, she might go nuts. She was in the process of making breakfast for Death, brought to the meeting by the King of Hell, trying to speak to a dead witch about a spell an evil Angel had cast on her now-Demon boyfriend. Wasn't that enough?

And now, Death was trying to spoon-feed her.

"Don't, Gail," Sam said. Death gave him a baleful stare and he fell silent.

What the hell, Gail thought. It was certainly no weirder than a lot of other things she'd done lately. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, letting Death feed her. She chewed and swallowed the bit of egg, hoping she hadn't just completed some strange sort of ritual.

"It's nothing like that," Death told her. Right. He could read her thoughts. "I just wanted to share."

Gail looked at him curiously. It didn't seem like he was joking.

"Ask your favour, Gail," Death said to her.

Crowley frowned briefly. He'd already stated the reason they were here before this ridiculous meal break. But Death was focusing on Gail now.

"Would you please allow us to speak with Rowena?" Gail asked Death politely.

"Yes, I will allow it," Death told her. "But I cannot guarantee she will have any answers for you, nor can I guarantee her cooperation."

Gail gave a half-shrug. She figured as much. Why should anything in her life be easy? "Thank you," she said.

She started to rise from the table. That was apparently all they'd come here for, his permission; and now that she'd obtained that, she was anxious to leave. She bumped her hip on the corner of the table and a shock of pain went through her. That was the hip Cas had dug his fingers into last night, and she hadn't realized how bad the bruise was until she'd hit it on something sharp. She hissed in pain.

Crowley raised an eyebrow to her, and she tried to shut her mind down. The last thing she needed was him smirking at her about how she'd received the injury, and what she and Cas had been doing at the time. She had to face it; he probably had a pretty good idea, anyway.

But it was Death who spoke. "Just a moment," he said.

She turned around to look at him. Here it came. This was always the point in the movies where the bad guy stopped you from leaving, and it was usually bad news.

Death smiled thinly, reading her thought. "I've never had much inclination to watch movies," he told her.

"You should," Gail said. "Think of all the snacks you could have."

Then Death did something Crowley had never seen before: he laughed. Crowley smiled, too. There was just something about her. Crowley himself had laughed more times in the past week's conversations with Gail than he'd laughed in the centuries before that. Maybe that was why he felt such affection towards her now, and why he was going to all this effort to help her. It was certainly not out of any great love for his Brother, that was for sure.

"Contrary to how everyone feels about me, I am not 'the bad guy'," Death said to Gail, including Dean and Sam in his glance. "My role is essential."

Gail considered that; she supposed he had a point, but who the hell wanted to die? Of course, death in their world meant many different things, though, didn't it?

"In some cases, death can be the greatest mercy," Death said to her. "If a cure cannot be found, you will have to let Castiel go."

Gail's heart sank. She knew that, of course, but it was hard to hear that spoken aloud, especially coming from Death himself. She refused to believe that a cure wasn't possible. There had to be a way.

"I admire your optimism, misguided as it may be," he said to her, frowning. He stood from the table, tossing his napkin on the plate. "I have had a bit of a checkered past with Castiel, but if you are all here on his behalf, perhaps he is worth saving." He looked at Crowley, and his expression turned sardonic. "Maybe even you are, Brother."

Crowley frowned slightly but said nothing. He was just waiting for this meeting to be over now.

"Good luck, my Dear," Death said to Gail. Then he nodded to Sam and Dean, and then he was gone.

Gail looked at the brothers. "Wow," she said. She didn't even know what to say about that whole experience.

Dean let out a breath. He'd been biting the insides of his cheeks practically the whole time to keep himself from smart-mouthing Death. He and Sam had both had run-ins with him before, but it seemed like Gail had charmed him. Dean had never even seen Death smile before, let alone laugh out loud. And he had been cooperative, at least as far as giving his permission for them to contact Rowena. Before Gail had arrived at the bunker, Crowley had told him and Sam that they needed Death's acquiescence in order to contact anyone that he assigned to the Netherworld. Apparently, Death was able to trump God when it came to the creme de la creme. So Dean had made himself keep his mouth shut, even though it had nearly killed him to do so. Once again, Cas was gonna owe him, big time. Normal Cas, that was. The Cas that existed now was a stranger to Dean, and he was glad he hadn't seen that guy for a while. Dean still hadn't completely ruled out kicking his ass for everything he had done to Gail, either.

But Crowley had lied, of course. He could have brought his mother back, albeit temporarily, as he and Metatron had done with Raphael. Crowley had an Original at his disposal now in Gail, and together they would probably have been able to bring Rowena back for long enough to get the cure from her, if she would cooperate. But he wanted nothing to do with his mother, even temporarily. He was well shot of her, and Gail and the Winchesters could talk to her if they so chose, but Crowley would stay away. He did know another way, however, and if Sam didn't suggest it first, Crowley would drop some broad hints until Moose figured it out. He was a smart boy.

They left the diner, bringing the Winchesters back to the bunker and advising they'd be in touch. Once Sam and Dean had gone inside, Gail and Crowley stood facing each other.

"Thank you for the meeting," Gail said to him. "It was certainly...interesting."

"Are you all right?" he asked her, unexpectedly.

Gail was startled. How weird that he had asked her that, and not Sam or Dean. "Yeah, I'm OK," she answered reflexively.

He lifted an eyebrow, and she amended, "Well, you know. Why do you ask?"

"The hip," he answered shortly.

Crap. She'd known he would notice that. She should be grateful he wasn't making lewd comments about it, she supposed. She sighed. "It's nothing I can't handle," she replied, somewhat evasively.

But he was in her head now, and he had seen what had happened last night, including the incident with the blade. Not every Demon had that particular urge; Metatron must have thrown a little Vampire into the cocktail too, Crowley surmised. He wasn't all that shocked by it, though; he was the King of Hell, after all, and he had seen far worse. But he wanted to make sure she was all right, although he continued to wonder why he should care.

"Make sure he doesn't get the upper hand," Crowley advised her. "If he does, he'll never let go. And he'll keep on hurting you."

Gail laughed shortly. "I read a quote once: 'You can always tell how much you love someone by how much they can hurt you'."

He regarded her evenly, but she said no more. "I'll be in touch," he told her. Then he snapped his fingers and he was gone.

She stood there for a moment, looking at the entrance to the bunker and then looking at the empty spot where Crowley had just stood a moment ago. Like Sam had thought a short while ago, Gail wondered which team she was really on these days. Not so long ago, the answer had seemed very clear.

But there was no time for self-analysis now, and this certainly wasn't the place for it. She had to get home.