Dean wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. One minute they'd all been talking about an opening rune and the next, Sam had managed to activate some spell and produced a weird swirly vortex where the carvings had been.

"Grab him!" Gabriel yelled, springing into action and clutching Sam's right arm. Dean and Mary took Sam's left and Cas joined Gabriel to try and pull Sam away from the Gate.

"What's going on?" Dean grated as he yanked on his brother with all his strength. But it was almost impossible, Sam would not budge. He didn't even seem to be aware of what was happening. He was gazing almost wistfully into that appalling nothingness in a way that terrified Dean.

"The Gate is open," Gabriel wheezed. "I think it's calling to Sam."

"Sammy!" Dean barked. "Snap out of it, man. We gotta get away from this thing."

"Sam!" Mary added her voice. "Sweetheart, please. Listen to me."

But Sam's face remained calm and resolute, unmoved by anything that was being said. Dean wasn't even sure he could hear them. And then he shoved at them all with a superhuman burst of strength, sending Dean and Mary tumbling to the ground and Cas and Gabriel staggering backwards. They watched in horror as Sam determinedly propelled himself forward, deliberately throwing himself into the aching maw of the Illini Gate. At the last moment, Gabriel managed to snag Sam's jacket, but momentum was against him and instead of pulling Sam back from the brink, they both fell headlong into the horrific blackness and vanished.

"No!" Cas gave a panicked yelp. But it was too late. The vortex began shrinking rapidly and within seconds it was gone. "NO!"

Someone was screaming and Dean really wished they would stop. He rolled over onto his side, trying to process what had just happened. "Cas," he croaked, his throat sore. Had he been the one screaming? He wasn't sure. "Cas, what happened?"

"I don't know how, but Sam managed to open the Gate," Cas said breathlessly. "It hypnotized him, made him want to enter it. I don't understand why." Dean began to crawl over to where his brother had disappeared. "Dean, stay away from there! Just because it's closed doesn't mean it's not dangerous."

"I've got rescue Sam," Dean snarled.

"Gabriel will take care of him," Cas told him. He climbed laboriously to his feet and then walked over to Mary to help her up. "I'll contact Michael and ask for his help."

"Michael?" Dean said, standing up and leaning against the rockface. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Cas."

"Have you a better one?" the angel challenged. "Nobody in Heaven can open this Gate. Who else can help us? The only other archangel available is Lucifer. And I doubt he's feeling generous."

"I might have another idea," Mary said.

Sam opened crusted eyes and peered into the gloom, trying to make out a familiar shape. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that he knew exactly where he was. The rough edges of the flagstones were horribly familiar, as were the crates in the corner and the strange bluish light that filtered in from the small opening in the wooden door. This was the room from his vision. Reaching out, his fingers located the dagger he'd found before but instead of a tarot card alongside, he found a warm body. He pulled his hands back quickly in alarm. Who the Hell was that? He vaguely remembered feeling a pull on his clothes as he fell into that mesmerizing black hole.

Falling through that strange vortex had reminded him of when he'd taken the swan dive into the Cage when possessed by Lucifer. But there had been significant differences too. Falling into the pit, Lucifer had screamed his rage out inside Sam's skull and Michael had been snarling into his face the whole way. This fall had been peaceful, no sound or even physical sensations had assaulted him and it had really felt more like drifting. The constant presence of a pulling sensation on his jacket had been the only thing that had felt real - everything else seemed like a dream. But he didn't remember landing here. There was an infinite space of blackness in his memory, like waking up from a long, dreamless sleep.

"Hey," he said hoarsely. "Dean, is that you?"

"No…" a familiar voice said. Gabriel! His voice sounded really peculiar.

"Gabriel?"

"May. Be. May. Be. NOT!" There was a sudden rustling sound and then Sam could see Gabriel's shadowy outline. He was standing, but hunched over as if in terrible pain.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked.

Gabriel was breathing heavily and he swayed. "This. Place. Tearing. At my. Mind," he gritted out.

"What can I do?" Sam got to his feet and grabbed the archangel's shoulders.

"Not sure." Gabriel was rocking back and forth and in the gloom, Sam could see an odd glow coming from his eyes.

"Gabriel, stay with me," he said urgently.

"Trying," Gabriel gasped. "F-f-f-failing."

Sam cursed. The memory of a crazed Arariel made him swallow past a lump in his throat. He couldn't afford to let Gabriel go down that path. He had to distract him somehow, ground him and give him something to focus on. There was only two things Sam could think of that would do that. Pain was one, but the idea of inflicting pain on Gabriel was uncomfortable, to say the least. Sam decided to hold that in reserve while he tried his other idea.

Leaning forwards slowly, so as not to take Gabriel by surprise, he gently pressed his lips to the archangel's mouth. He had intended to keep the kiss soft, sensuous and undemanding but Gabriel had other ideas, melting into his arms and opening his mouth, letting Sam deepen the kiss and tangle their tongues together. Sam thrust one hand under Gabriel's shirt, sliding over heated skin and the archangel arched under his touch. It was insane really, but he couldn't focus on anything else but how he felt. Gabriel tore his mouth away from Sam's with a gasp. Sam couldn't interpret the look on Gabriel's face, but at least he looked more like himself.

"Interesting strategy there, Sam," he breathed. He looked both astonished and wary, it was not a good combination.

Sam felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. "It was either that or slap your face."

Gabriel laughed at that but it soon faded as he took in the room and his face fell. "Sam, we're in Necropolis."

"I figured. You know, this room is just like the one from my vision."

Gabriel looked sharply at him. "Is it now? Exactly the same?"

"Well, no, not quite. In my vision, there was one of Michael's tarot cards in here along with a dagger." Sam produced the dagger he'd found. "I found the knife, but instead of the card, there was you."

Gabriel frowned. "I wonder what that means." He was beginning to look seriously alarmed and a worm of discomfort began to unfurl in Sam's gut.

"This place will twist us in ways you can't imagine. We really should try and get out of here," the archangel said seriously.

Sam took a couple of deep breaths. "This place is attacking you?"

"Yes," Gabriel said. "Your… unorthodox method of distraction will work for a while but I can already feel it pressing at my mind again. And there's not much I can do. Magic doesn't work here, Sam." The archangel was staring at him in wonder. His hands were shaking as he raised them to Sam's face. "But that means…"

"Any enchantment I was under shouldn't be working anymore. My attraction to you is real after all," Sam finished, awestruck. He leaned forward to kiss Gabriel again and to his consternation, the archangel backed away with a regretful look.

"We will need to talk about this." He waved a hand between the two of them. "But this isn't the time. Or place."

Sam was hurt by the implicit rejection but Gabriel was right. This really wasn't a good time to be exploring how they felt about each other. He pushed the thoughts away and focused on the problem at hand. "Magic doesn't work at all? What about Loki's abilities?"

"Unfortunately not," Gabriel said ruefully. "If I had my Grace-" he broke off with a bitten off word in Enochian. Sam suspected it was a curse.

"So how do we fight it?"

Gabriel rubbed his hands over his face. "Skin-to-skin contact helps. That's why the kiss worked. But holding hands should suffice."

Sam offered up his hand and Gabriel tentatively reached out and took it. His skin was warm and dry and just standing there, holding hands, made Sam feel almost giddy with joy. He tried to suppress any outward expression of it but he could see the answering light in Gabriel's eyes despite the darkness.

"So what now?" Sam asked.

"What else do you remember from your vision?" Gabriel pressed. "Try and focus on the contrasts."

"The other thing that's different is once I found the card, the door here opened. This one is still closed."

"Is it locked?" Gabriel asked, dropping Sam's hand and heading over to investigate. He pulled hard on the door handle but it only rattled in its frame. "Looks like a yes."

Perhaps this was more a cell than a room. But Sam couldn't see a keyhole anywhere. He peered through the small viewing window and he could see a large wooden bar across the door.

"I think it's barred not locked," Sam said. "If we push this dagger between the door and the frame, we might be able to lift the bar." He slid the dagger through the gap and wiggled it experimentally. "It might not be strong enough, but let's try it."

He carefully began to raise the dagger vertically, not wanting to make any sudden moves. There was considerable weight on the blade and it moved with a low scraping sound. Finally, when he'd lifted it about six inches, he made a movement with his head indicating to Gabriel that he ought to try pulling the door. The archangel tugged hard on the handle and the door flew open, the bar falling to the ground with a loud bang. Sam and Gabriel froze, but it seemed that nobody had noticed the noise. Sam looked ruefully at the dagger, which had fallen from his grasp when the door opened. The blade had completely buckled and was useless. Damn.

Sam poked his head around the door and looked out into the dimly lit corridor. Unlike the one in his dream, this hallway had no windows and was lit only by two burning torches in sconces on the walls.

"It's clear, at least for now," he told Gabriel.

"Then let's go."

"You're not serious!" Dean yelled. "After what those fuckers did to Sam and Cas? Tell me this is a joke!"

"Dean, I don't like what they did any more than you do, but we do have a shared interest here. The world they're promising, the world they've managed to implement in Britain, works. A lot of hunters could get out of the business if they wanted to, the ones who stayed would be the ones who wanted to stay. Deaths of civilians by monsters would become almost unheard of. Tell me that isn't something to strive for!" Mary had her hands on her hips and she was twitching with suppressed energy. Dean had almost perfectly mirrored her stance in a way that made Cas want to smile, were it not entirely inappropriate. But they were stuck between two bad choices. Ask for Michael's help or the British Men of Letters and in either case, hope the price wasn't too high.

"Dean, I think this needs to be your decision," Cas said when Mary had finished.

"Why me?" the hunter whined.

"Because Mary and I have both stated our preferred course of action. You hold the deciding vote." Cas hated the way Dean's face looked, lined with stress and despair. The urge to reach out to him was strong and it took considerable effort of will to just stand there and let Dean consider the options.

Dean's shoulders heaved as he thought hard. "I hate this," he complained under his breath. It was too much for Cas, who gave in and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean tilted his head back, giving Cas the long view of his throat. His hand flexed in reaction.

"I know this is hard," Cas said.

Dean blew out a breath. "Yeah. Cas, I'm sorry, man but I'm gonna go with Mom's suggestion. Let's see what these limey sons of bitches can do before we start thinking about doing something really crazy."

Cas knew he looked disappointed, he couldn't help it. He let his hand drop and nodded to show that he understood.

"I'll call Mick," Mary said, pulling out her phone.

Ketch watched the woman he'd been stalking for the past three hours leave the grocery store and pack the bags into her trunk. He had to admit it, he was bored. This was the great and terrifying witch, Constance McBride? So far he'd followed her to yoga, hung around unobtrusively as she met with a friend at a coffee shop and now grocery shopping.

His phone buzzed and he looked down at it, hoping it might be Mary. His lip curled when he saw Mick's number flash up and he answered it.

"Please tell me you've got something interesting," he complained. "I'm going out of my mind watching the dullest witch in North America do her chores."

"I think this will do the trick," Mick said. "Mary's just called in. Dean Winchester's reaching out."

"Fuck Dean Winchester," Ketch snarled. "What do I care about him? I told you, Mary's the only Winchester worth a damn."

"That's as may be," Mick laughed. "But you're going to want to hear what they have to say."

"I'm in the middle of a stakeout."

"Trust me, Ketch, this is worth your time." When Ketch didn't reply, Mick seemed to realize he was going to have to give him something. "They've found an open Gate into Necropolis."

Ketch was not easily surprised. He was a good observer of human nature and could predict behavior to the point that he found most people dreary and uninteresting. Mary was a wild card and he was man enough to admit that was part of the attraction. But the idea that those bumbling boys of hers had stumbled onto something the Men of Letters had been searching for since the first chapterhouse had opened in the fourteenth century, that was a surprise. Some scholars had even disputed whether the fabled city even really existed. To actually find a Gate… He shook himself out of his reverie when he heard Mick's voice echoing tinnily down the line.

"Ketch? Are you still there?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm on my way."

Sam followed Gabriel down the corridor, the shadows flickering and twisting with the motion of the torch flames, dancing in a breeze that seemed to come from up ahead. He held tightly onto Gabriel's hand, enjoying that small measure of closeness and he was so distracted by it, he was startled when the archangel stopped and spun around, thrusting him backwards and pressing him to the wall with the flat of his hand.

He opened his mouth to speak and Gabriel's eyes flared in alarm. He slapped his free hand over Sam's mouth and glared his admonition for him not to make a sound. Sam swallowed hard, his body instantly reacting to the way Gabriel was pinning him in place and he struggled to get control over himself. He breathed in and out through his nose before nodding. Gabriel cautiously moved his hand from his mouth and then, to Sam's astonishment, slid that hand down his torso and under his t-shirt, coming to rest on Sam's hip.

There was a scraping sound in the distance, and a curious jingling sound like tiny bells. Whatever it was, Gabriel clearly didn't want it to see them. What they would do if it came this way, Sam wasn't sure. But the sound was moving away from them and as it faded, Gabriel relaxed. Sam looked down at him, his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a wave of desire washed over him. Gabriel looked up at him uncertainly.

"What was that?" Sam whispered.

"Guard automaton," Gabriel hissed, still casting glances in the direction the sounds had come from. "They march in proscribed routes, so it'll be back. We need to move."

"What happens if one catches us?"

Gabriel's mouth quirked downwards. "If we're lucky it'll just kill us." His tone suggested Sam might not want to ask any more questions.

"OK," Sam said. "Let's go."

Gabriel pushed away from him and staggered, his eyes rolling upwards in his head. Sam gasped and caught him before he hit the floor. "Gabriel!"

"M'fine," the archangel said, sagging bonelessly in Sam's arms.

"You're not fine," Sam insisted. "What do I do?"

"Iggle. Piggle," Gabriel said nonsensically. Sam lowered him onto the floor and looked around, searching for inspiration. Finding none, he figured he had no choice but to use the method that had worked before. Feeling uncomfortably like he was forcing something on Gabriel without his consent, he lowered his head and kissed him. Gabriel's lips parted and he sighed, wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and pulling him closer. His tongue tangled with Sam's in a sensuous dance that threatened to blot out everything but this insane need to get closer.

He thrust his hands under Gabriel's shirt, thrilling at the slide of smooth skin and how it pimpled under his touch. Gabriel writhed beneath him, and as Sam gently disengaged from his mouth to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck, the archangel's head fell back and he groaned.

"Enough, Sam," he gasped. Sam stilled and then cautiously backed off. "I'm OK."

"Sorry," Sam apologized, trying to battle the sense of rejection. "I didn't know what else to do."

"I know," Gabriel said. "But if we keep going like this, it won't end well. Necropolis is a tainted place, and it's feeding on us, on our desire for each other."

"You make it sound as though it's alive," Sam said, discomfort finally pushing back at his arousal.

"It is," Gabriel said. "It's hard to explain but Nakhte and Necropolis are… not separate entities anymore."

"OK," Sam said. "So what now? Do you know anything about the layout of this place? How do we get out of here?"

"I know a bit. I was here before, during the war. Assuming Nakhte didn't change the layout since then, the Fane will be this way," Gabriel pointed to his left. "And the Main Gate will be that way."

"How did we get into that room?" Sam asked. "Surely the Gate didn't dump us there?"

"I don't know," Gabriel said. "The war between Heaven and Necropolis unleashed a lot of power, it probably scrambled everything up. And Nakhte wasn't exactly sane to begin with."

The scraping, jingling sound had started up again and Sam frowned. "The automaton?"

"Right," Gabriel agreed. "Soon as it passes, we move, OK?"

Ketch was sullen, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes burned, following Mary around the kitschy motel room. Dean didn't like it, there was something possessive in the man's gaze that he had no right to feel about his mom. Mick was friendly and helpful, ignoring Dean's rude comments and Cas's icy silence.

"So this Gate just opened up for Sam?" Mick was saying, his eyes bright as he typed up his notes on his laptop.

"We don't know if Sam did anything by accident," Mary said coolly. "We were all looking around the cave, not at each other."

"And Sam seemed hypnotized by it, actively threw himself in?" Mick said, shaking his head in wonder. "Fascinating."

"Oh yeah," Dean said, getting to his feet. "It's real fucking fascinating. I mean, my brother just fell through a hole in creation to a Hellish other dimension where they could be torturing him or doing God knows what, but the important thing is how interesting it is!"

"Dean," Cas rumbled, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mick's eyes flickered toward Ketch for a moment.

"I'm not trying to minimize your concerns over your brother," Mick said smoothly. "Now please, can you finish the story?"

"Yeah," Mary said. "He seemed mesmerized. He didn't hear anything any of us said to him. And he was strong, I mean freakishly so. It had to have been some magical effect. And then he just leaped into the dark and Ga-" She coughed. "Gary went in after him."

Cas's mouth twitched. They'd decided to keep Gabriel's name out of things for now, since they had no idea what the Men of Letters might do with the knowledge that there was a depowered archangel out there. But sooner or later, he feared someone was going to slip up.

"I see. Why did he do that?" Mick asked. It was a perfectly innocent and legitimate question but not one Cas wanted to answer.

"Him and Sam are good friends," Dean said pugnaciously.

"Sure, but-" Mick broke off at the look on Dean's face. "Never mind, it's not important. Right, well I think I've got everything I need for my report. Now let's talk about what we know and then strategy."

"Good," Dean said. He pushed back from the table and walked over to the cabinet to get a drink.

"Dean, it's 11am," Cas said.

"Get off my case, Cas," Dean growled. The angel sighed and caught Mary's eye. She shook her head at him and he backed down.

"So, I trawled through our databases and I've got researchers in London looking into the Archives," Mick said. "So what I'm about to tell you is only the tip of the iceberg of knowledge we've collected on Necropolis over the centuries."

"Centuries!" Mary exclaimed. Mick shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"So, the first records we have are from the now-defunct Hungarian chapter. Back in the fifteenth century, Matthias Corvinus established the Bibliotheca Corviniana, and the London Chapterhouse reached out to set up a new chapter in Buda as part of that effort. Matthias had found a cave under the monastery in Pannonhalma during its reconstruction and there he found one of the Gates to Necropolis. It was badly damaged and despite the years of scholarship that followed, we couldn't figure out how to open it." Mick tapped at his computer and pursed his lips. "I won't bore you with a full history lesson."

"Thank God," Ketch snorted. Dean hated the fact that he basically agreed. He slurped at his bourbon, wishing the twitchy little Brit would get to the point.

"Let's just say that we've been interested in Necropolis for almost as long as we've existed. From the few tablets and documents we've dug up over the years, we believe a number of powerful magical artifacts exist there. Including one we understand might greatly tip the balance for us in the war on monsters here in the US."

Cas slammed his hands down on the tabletop, his face savage. "You're talking about the Anima Licio and you're a fool if you think that hideous artifact could be used for anything other than extraordinary evil."

Mick started at the angel's vehemence and now in a reversal of a few minutes ago, Dean had to reach out and snag his sleeve. Cas snapped his head around and glared at him.

"Take it easy, Cas."

"I cannot 'take it easy'," the angel growled. "These people want to access the city. They don't care about Sam or G-gary." He shoved away from the table and began pacing. "Necropolis is too dangerous for humans to toy with. I warned you this was a bad idea."

Dean's temper flared. "I said, back down. You left this decision up to me, remember." He turned his attention back to Mick. "Enough of this. How does it help us get Sam and uh… our other friend back?"

Mick smiled. "We know how to open the Gate. We couldn't open the one at Pannonhalma because it was too damaged. We've never found an intact one before. So, take us to this one in Illinois and we'll open it for you."

"But none of us can go to this Necropolis place," Mary objected. "Cas says it's dangerous and I believe him."

Mick's face dropped. "We're working on that part. There may be a spell or magical device we have that can protect you."

Cas stared at him and then looked at Dean unhappily. "Please don't do this," he said. "They don't understand what they're playing with here."

"I beg to differ," Mick said, his tone cool. "The Men of Letters have been researching Necropolis almost since our inception. We know a great deal about it, and we understand the dangers."

"Cas, I know you hate this. But Sam's trapped in that awful place. I'm not doing this for fun," Dean pleaded. Cas held his gaze for a moment, the blue irises mesmerizing Dean until he forgot what it was he was talking about. Cas placed a hand on his jaw, brushing a thumb across his cheek and it was only then that Dean realized he was crying. Horribly embarrassed and more than a little confused, he pushed Cas's hand away and rubbed at his face.

Mick was politely keeping his eyes on his screen. Ketch was scowling at his phone and his mom was staring at him, an indecipherable expression on her face. Awesome.

"Right, well, I think we have a plan," Mick said briskly, his discomfort at the naked emotion in the room plainly evident on his face. "We better head out and start rallying the troops. Come on, Ketch. We'll uh, be in touch."

Dean watched them leave, saw his mother give them some platitudes and then Ketch grabbed her hand, just for a second, and squeezed her fingers. It was an expression of affection and not one Dean was prepared to see. But neither was he up for another argument. He exhaled in frustration and stormed out of the room.