Prologue- 1485 BCE, Palace of Thutmose I, Egypt

It was night inside the stone palace. Dark shadows flickered as the yellow-orange light was cast from the braziers on the walls. A furtive figure darted from one shadow to the next as he made his way through darkened corridors. There were guards standing attention at regular intervals along sandstone walls. Their eyes alert for any movement. The grey-robed figure stayed still in the shadows of an alcove, waiting. He watched the guards as they looked straight ahead. Whispered chanting emitted from the shadows and then the clang of staves as they hit the floor followed by the thump as the guards fell. The spell would not last long. The robed figure entered the large doors into the throne room of the pharaoh. He pushed back the cowl of his robe as he entered and withdrew an urn from the deep recesses of his sleeves. He bowed deep before the silhouette of the slim woman within the shadows.

The queen, Ahmose, emerged from the shadowy chamber. Her lithe form moved with the grace and balance of the savannah cat. Her large, golden predator's eyes cast about her; her planned entertainment for the evening would have been dangerous at the best of times and she did not want to alert anyone to her plans. Sorcery was strictly forbidden and the name of the God in whose name she practiced it tonight had been struck from any writings. She thought of her ambitions and knew her brother would disrupt them if he knew. She must proceed with caution. She dared not even think of the goddess's name or face. If the spell worked, as she believed it would, the goddess would be captured and Ahmose would gain more power as a result. It was business, not personal.

"Are you ready to request Her presence?" she inquired of the sorcerer.

"I am, my queen… though she may not come. She is not accustomed to being summoned." He passed the Enochian-runed bracelets to Ahmose, their silvery glint reflected in the dim light of the room. He placed the urn with a cat head as a lid in the center of the circle of oil etched on the floor. The symbols painted around the perimeter of the circle were dull and silent. She began to shiver with anticipation. A slow smile spread across her face.

"Begin." She commanded.

The sorcerer began to weave the spell that would call the goddess to his queen. It would be up to her to keep her wits about her so that she could disable the deity. After the bracelets were placed on the goddess, he would begin to weave the spell to imprison her in the Urn. His own god would be pleased the goddess was disabled. He had been kept from influencing the Kings of Egypt since Ra created the Protector, the Sacred and All-Seeing Eye. Her spies were everywhere and watched for the serpent minions of Apep.

A movement in the corner of his eye pulled his attention to the two tiny glowing spheres approaching out of the shadows. As they approached the light and shadows receded, he could see that the glowing spheres were the eyes of a tall and graceful figure. The goddess made her way into the light cast by the few braziers lit in the room. Her eyes glowed with the fire of the sun in the dark. As Bast approached the queen, those eyes shifted to a brilliant green within a mask of coffee-colored fur. The fur outside that mask was creamy and her eyes were lined in brown.

"Why have you called for me, Queen of Egypt?" Bast purred. Her cat's eyes flicked only briefly to the sorcerer kneeling on the floor. A coarse growl emitted warning him to remain where he was. He feared briefly that she could detect the deception. But, Bast's gaze returned to fix on the woman in front of her. Her dark cat ears twitched back and forward. One swiveled to the side at some noise in the foyer. She seemed to glide elegantly into the room. The sorcerer realized he was holding his breath. The goddess chose to appear with a cat's head, she was beautiful and sensual. It radiated from her person as did the strength the sorcerer knew could rip him to shreds if he gave any indication as to his true master. As for the Queen, she stood before the goddess with confidence and poise. The queen was not beautiful, but she exuded charm and intelligence, self-confidence and strength the sorcerer knew that would attract the cat-goddess as nothing else would. A small smile lit the face of the queen. The sorcerer could see that the smile belied the deception that glinted in her eyes.

"I wished to present you with a gift." Ahmose explained. The queen approached Bast as one would a lover, the sway of her hips and the thrust of her breast inviting the goddess in.

A smile played upon Bast's mouth and her eyes glowed green. Her pupils widened as the queen approached her. The smell of spicy perfume tickled her rough nose and her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply of the heady scent. Bast's eyes half closed as she breathed in the delightful fragrance. That, too, had been a part of the plan to entice the goddess, to lure her into the trap.

"I have requested a work form the best craftsmen in Egypt and they have delivered these exquisite bracelets for you." She whispered at Bast as she held up the two-inch wide bracelets with the symbols obscured in her hands.

The cat-goddess smiled more fully. She moved closer to the queen. They were so close, they seemed nearly to embrace. "They are lovely!" the goddess breathed in a soft and sensual voice. Her lidded eyes were on the queen and not the bracelets.

Ahmose placed the bracelets on Bast's wrists all at once. There was no hesitancy, just the confidence of a queen fulfilling her part in the deception. The sorcerer began to weave his hands in the strange symbols in preparation of the binding and imprisonment spell. As the queen removed her hands from the bracelets, the goddess recognized the binding spell on them. She realized she had been tricked! She hissed at the queen baring the sharp canine teeth at her. Ahmose smiled broadly as she quickly backed out of the circle. The sorcerer lit the oil and chanted the spell that would imprison the goddess in the urn.

Bast stood inside the barrier of the spell. She was unable to move from inside the circle. She clawed at the invisible force with sharp nails and firmly muscled arms. Her green eyes were wide and fierce as she glared at the sorcerer. Her gaze grew flinty and turned to the deceptive woman next to the circle. "Your plans will never reach fruition, snake." She narrowed her eyes and began to laugh, "Yes, and your line will fail, ended at the fangs of the serpent!" The symbols surrounding the circle flared in white glowing life as the enchanter continued to chant. An ethereal scream escaped the cat goddess's mouth as she faded from sight.

The sorcerer stood and the symbols faded. The urn, in the center of the circle, glowed slightly. A hum filled the room. The sound of wings beat softly in a shadowed corner. Two figures approached the queen and her sorcerer. The queen swept sand onto the circle of fire and entered its perimeter. She glided to the urn and, still smiling, lifted it from the floor. The eyes on the cat-shaped lid glowed green and she could almost feel the anger of the goddess within. The Outsiders did not approach too closely to the flames. Their eyes were nearly dead of emotion, but they watched the queen as she held her prize.

The queen walked back to her enchanter and away from the two figures. She traced the lines of the urn with a sensual touch. As the taller of the figures approached the dark and strong man, a growl and hiss emitted from the urn. The eyes on the cat glowed red. Ahmose laughed out loud at the display of aggression from her captive.

"Do you think that I would hand over such a prize?" She challenged the two newcomers. "Do you think I fear your master?"

The smaller of the two angels looked briefly at his brother. A brief flash of his unhappiness flickered across his pale face. His blue eyes widened for a fraction of a moment, but the queen knew he was worried. This made the queen laugh again in glee at having made these creatures uncomfortable.

"You will give her to us" said the larger of the two. His voice boomed in the small room despite the fact he did not raise it above a conversational tone. The smaller of the two went forward and reached out his hands for the urn. The queen regarded the creature with amusement. She lifted the urn closer to her bosom and away from the outstretched hands of the angel. The growl became a low-reverberating sound that continued until the figures disappeared from the throne chamber.

The queen turned and dismissed the waiting servant of Apep. She walked to the hallway that led to her chambers. She caressed the urn. Now, you will not stop the plans of my King and my God, Apep. The children will fall into the river and our power will be consolidated. She hugged the urn to her tightly. The hissing and growling continued.

Chapter 1- Sonoma County, California NOW

Dean Winchester laid waiting for his brother on the hood of the black impala parked under the shade of a large oak tree in Buellton, California. Sam was picking up some supplies so that they could head out on the road again. Despite the relatively easy job of ridding a local winery of its poltergeist, Dean had been having difficulty getting enough rest at night. He wanted to get back out on the road, but he knew he really could use a little time. To tell the truth, though, he really hadn't ever gotten a really restful night's sleep for over a year. He had to admit that his dreams were getting more vivid and disturbing since he found out that Sam had lost his soul. He was having trouble falling and staying asleep since Death got it back for Sam. He lay awake at night pondering the riddle of what Death had told him.

The creak of the impala's trunk opening signaled to Dean that his brother had returned. Sam stocked the trunk with bags of salt and some odds and ends they would need for the hunt. Dean hopped down from the hood.

"Did you get lunch?" he asked.

Sam looked at his brother with disgust. "Dude! We JUST ate!"

"So…" Dean replied. Giving Sam a hard time was one of the few delights in which Dean continued to indulge. Dean was never really as hungry as he pretended to be, though he could always eat. Sam gave him a skeptical look. Dean looked at him with a blank poker face. Dean could mask his true feeling pretty well and Sam wasn't always sure when Dean was bluffing.

"We can get something from the window on our way outta town." Sam responded. Dean hid a crooked smile and looked up at his younger brother. Sam was worried about Dean. His furrowed brow must have signaled to Dean how he was feeling. Dean decided he didn't want to play anymore.

Sam knew his brother's rapid changes in mood were connected to his feelings of responsibility that he held for Sam since they were very small. Those feelings of responsibility were intensified by the constant reminders given him growing up with his ex-Marine Dad. Huh. Ex-Marine… John Winchester was a Marine until he died. He drilled his sons every day of their lives as if they were members of an elite force and John Winchester was their drill sergeant. Military discipline with their Dad coupled with the lifestyle of Hunters they lived, was more than Sam could willing take. He left to go to school at Stanford and he thought he might have had a chance at a "normal" life. Dean played the dedicated soldier and dutiful son, following orders even when they made no Earthly sense. At least, they never did to Sam. He had an analytical mind and he tended to question everything. That was why he and his Dad butt heads so frequently. You can't be a good soldier if you go around questioning orders. Sadly, that seemed like centuries ago. Maybe, it was centuries ago. He still didn't really know how long he spent in the pit.

So much had happened since he was a student. Not the least was the death of the woman he thought he could spend the rest of his life making happy. He saw such a future back then. He thought he could forget the craziness of his family and leave Hunting far behind him. Since then, he had been disabused of that fantasy over and over again. Demon blood addiction, finding that he had a Big-D Destiny, becoming the vessel for Lucifer, losing his soul... He may have thought his life could be fodder for some demented soap opera instead of just another Friday night!

Sam looked at Dean as he continued to brood. It had probably been the same for him, Sam thought. He thought the apocalypse was over and his brother was lost to him. He went to live a normal life with Lisa and Ben. They could have been his family. They could have been happy. Since Sam got his soul back, he had been feeling particularly remorseful for having been the catalyst for Dean returning to the Hunter lifestyle… Or for leaving it in the first place. Maybe it would have been better for Dean to have continued Hunting, even after Sam had been lost to him. He may have been happy with Lisa, but Sam knew his brother was a great hunter and he did actually enjoy the work from time to time. He couldn't remember the last time Dean had really enjoyed anything more than he did living with Lisa. He recalled the numerous times he caught Dean smiling at something Lisa had said on their phone conversation or when he spoke to Ben. Sam believed that Dean must have enjoyed being a dad. He thought his brother was probably better at being a dad then their own dad was. Sam recalled the times growing up when Dean was more parent to Sam than John Winchester. This was all speculation anyway. Dean was not about to talk about it with Sam.

"Nah. Let's just get outta here." Dean turned to the impala's driver's door to open it. There on the roof near the driver's door was a cream-colored cat with orange markings. "HEY!" he yelled. "Get outta here."

The cat regarded him stoically and remained immobile. Dean approached the feline and reached out to remove the trespasser physically. The cat jumped down and ran across the street. Dean quickly opened the door and stood up on the running board to check the roof paint for scratches. "Damn cat" he muttered.

Sam grinned at his brother as he opened the passenger door and slid into shotgun. Dean stepped down, still muttering under his breath and slid into the driver's seat. He was about to turn the key. Sam leaned back as Dean sat with his hands on the steering wheel. "Are we headed north to Salem, or did you want to hit Bobby's for a bit?"

Sam considered it for a moment. Both places were going to be damn cold this early in January. Being in California could almost make you forget it was winter everywhere else. This part of California had even had a string of days where 80 degrees was typical. It got cold at night, but the days were great. "Are there any more jobs we can do here in Cali?" Sam asked.

Sam turned to regard his brother who was still seemed upset about the cat on the roof. Dean considered it for a minute and looked across the street at the cat that he had just run off. "Well, there may be something…" he began and pulled a print-out of a police bulletins and a tabloid article about some lady's cat running into a burning house and leading firefighters to a two-year old girl. Dean had really had missed this part of Sam when his brother went around town without a soul for over a year. He wouldn't tell Sam that though.

"Okay," he prefaced and closed his eyes for a moment. What he was about to say, he knew sounded odd even to him. "So, there is this thing where cats are acting really weird in a town not too far from here… closer to Santa Barbara. Apparently, there was this break in at a ranch nearby that happened to be owned by a certain famous pop star that collected crazy things. After the break in, the family said only one thing was stolen- A museum piece that was in the shape of a cat. Why do rich people buy crap like this?" Dean handed his brother a piece of paper with an insurance shot of an Egyptian urn. "Then, the animal control and the tabloids get all these calls from people in the neighborhood and spreading out from the ranch stating that cats have all of a sudden gone… strange."

"Strange how?" Sam asked while looking down at the different print-outs. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sam looked up at his brother. "Spit it out." Sam said.

"They made them stronger, smarter, better…" Dean smirked. "There have been a few reports where they behave all heroic saving people's lives- usually kids and women. One tells of a fire the cat rushes in to show the fire fighter where the kid is." He handed Sam the tabloid article. "Another story says a lady in hospice miraculously gets better after being poisoned. She says her cat cured her. But, here's where there have been a couple deaths, too." He looked over at Sam. "One has a report of this guy getting beat down by a woman who has glowing yellow eyes and turns into a lion."

Sam really did want to stay in Cali. "Well, let's go see if we can get in to the ranch…" he said with a grin. "Always did want to see the zoo and stuff there."

Then Dean sighed and smiled. He turned the key and the impala roared to life. They headed out on the 101. It was more like the back roads the brothers were used to rather than the freeways that seemed to criss-cross California. Truth was, this was much more Sam's speed. There were few cars on the highway and they moved at a good speed. The music was loud; the way Dean liked it when he really didn't want to talk. Sam was about to ask Dean if he had heard from Lisa when the impala shuddered. Both brothers looked at the front of the car as if they could see the engine through the hood. Dean pulled the car off the 101 and onto Cat Canyon Road. There were low hills covered with yellowing grass, scrub brush and short trees. The impala continued to cough inexplicably.

"Oh, Baby. Hold on." Dean pulled over and off the road near the highway. They got out of the car and went to open the hood. Sam held his cell in his hand and looked at Dean. "No cell reception. " He told his older brother.

Their eyes met but as Dean looked up at the highway and saw cars whizzing by, he thought it could only be car trouble and nothing supernatural. The look on Dean's face told Sam that this was just "one more thing". "One more thing" that seemed to pile high on his account of "one more things". Dean started walking up the lonely two lane road in a huff.

"Dean? Where're you goin'?"

Dean didn't respond or even turn back, but he did stop. He just stood there on the dirt shoulder, his head in his hand and his posture rigid and bent. He was so tired and frustration began to build. He kicked at the dirt and turned shaking his head in frustration. Even from this distance, Sam could hear Dean cursing and muttering under his breath. Sam could almost see the storm clouds over Dean's head as if he was a cartoon figure. Sam turned to the car and lifted the hood. He knew that Dean had not been getting a whole lot of sleep lately. He began looking over the engine trying to troubleshoot the problem as Dean approached.

Sam knew his rapid change of mood may have been because he needed some sleep, more than anything. It could also be another in a series of self-inflicted punishment for what his brother thought of as a failure to protect Sam. He still felt that residual over-protection of a big brother. Sam thought he was beginning to be seen as a partner, an equal in the family business prior to the whole Lucifer thing. It might have worked out that way, had he not dove into Lucifer's cage over a year ago. Dean could fix any trouble with the car with hands broken and blindfolded, but he couldn't repair what happened to Sam. It didn't stop him from killing himself trying, though.

Sam stepped over slightly. Dean leaned his back against the front of the car his head turned back toward the way they had just come. They could go back to Buellton. He could get some rest and work on the car. Damn. Why did he have to even think about taking the time off? Sam continued to check the engine for obvious trouble, but kept glancing at his older brother covertly.

Up on the highway, the roar of a throaty engine and the blasting radio playing "Free bird" slowed to Cat Canyon Road and turned. Dean was facing the highway so he was watching as the bright green new model Camaro turned. It was flashy with limo-tinted windows and black racing stripe down the center. What caught Dean's eye the most was the personalized license plate: "DMNHNTR". The Camaro slowed and Sam turned toward the sounds even as Dean watched the car approach. They both saw the driver as the car grew nearer. The passenger side windows came down in a slow whir. Wow.

"You guys need a ride?" she asked. Ah, man. She had bright emerald eyes the brothers could see even in the shade of the car's interior. She had short black hair and caramel colored skin. She wore a green tank top with "Girls Rock" painted across it in silver and cut-off jeans. Only in California was that appropriate winter-wear for January! Dean smiled a welcoming grin as he appreciated the lovely woman in the very green car.

He looked inside the front and realized there was really only room for one passenger. Where the back seat was, should have been, was filled partly with speakers and partly with a nitrous system. He turned to his brother, his grin growing broader. Yeah, you can give me a ride. "Hey, Sam, I'll be back with a truck." Sam gave his brother a look that told Dean "You've gotta be kidding me"! With a flash of mischief, Dean opened the Camaro's door and he slid into the black leather bucket seat. The front panel of the car looked custom and resembled a cockpit of a plane rather than a car dashboard. "I'm Dean." He told the driver.

The woman looked at Dean and grinned. "Uh-huh." She said. She shifted the car into first and turned the wheel back toward Buellton. The music had shifted to Black Dog by Led Zeppelin and it blasted from the front speakers as well as the back. There was no chance for talking with the woman but she kept looking at him as if sizing him up. It didn't take long before they pulled into a service station in Buellton. The woman turned down the music long enough to look at Dean and said, "Look, Dean… You need to find the fun. Lighten up!"

Dean looked at her with confusion, but then laughed. "Okay, id-girl. You don't really know me. I know how to have fun."

She grinned. "Not as much as I'd like." She moved closer to him and her face was close enough to his that he could smell the slightly peppermint of her breath and the spicy fragrance of her perfume. Her eyes were lidded slightly and her lips were so close. Dean found that he had trouble breathing normally and he had to shift the way he was sitting to make it a little less uncomfortable. She pulled herself back from him with a smile on her slightly parted lips. "Were you going to get a truck to bring the car back?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Nah. I don't trust anyone else working on my car." He looked at her sideways.

Her eyes widened and she laughed. "Well…" she managed. Her hand reached up to caress the back of Dean's neck and he shivered. The silver bracelet on her wrist on the side of his neck was cold, but her hand was warm. He turned toward her again. He could see burn scars under the bracelet. He looked her up and down. She was well-muscled and her hands were strong but decidedly feminine. He made out the grip of a sawed-off shotgun to her right, under her seat "So, what's your name?" he asked. She grinned again in response.

"Do you ever remember their names?" she asked.

"Whose?"

Her eyebrow quirked upward and she looked at him through her eyelashes. Oh, she was too much. He had to laugh at that, but instead of answering her question asked one of his own. "So, what does your license plate mean?"

"You don't know?" she asked, her eyes suddenly serious and the pupils widened. There was no sign of the smile she had on her face before.

He returned her gaze, "Do you?" It was then he looked again at her bracelets. There was a fine etching of runes on the surface. The runes, he recognized, were Enochian. She had a pentagram on the shift knob. There was a talisman of some kind hanging from her keychain. "Okay, you're a hunter."

"Of a sort" She responded. Her body relaxed and her eyes became less intent.

He looked around the cabin of the custom car and asked her, "You workin' a job?"

She turned back to face forward. "Kinda."

He looked askance at her but decided she was unlikely to share. He heard the growl of an engine approaching the Camaro. Turning, he saw the impala drive up beside the passenger side door. Sam looked at him through the window. "Well, thanks for the ride." He opened the door and started to shift out of the car. The green-eyed woman put her hand on Dean's. "Stick around, Winchester."

That got his attention. "I didn't tell you my name was Winchester." His eyes narrowed at her as he kept one leg outside of the Camaro and his body tensed in anticipation of anything. The woman brought her other hand around with a business card in it. Dean noticed a matching bracelet to the one on her right arm, complete with matching burn scars underneath. He took the card with his right hand and read the name of an address near Santa Barbara. She let go of his hand and waited for him to leave her car. When he was standing next to the Camaro and closed the door, she drove off.

That was weird… and a little disturbing.

Sam slid across the impala to sit in the passenger seat and Dean got into the driver's. He sat in the car, thinking about the encounter. He was staring at the steering wheel and Sam asked him what happened. Sam looked at Dean and waited. What was that all about?

"Crap!" Dean exclaimed finally. He put the car in drive and gunned it down the road toward Santa Barbara. During the trip, he filled Sam in on what happened. Sam was as perplexed by the events as was Dean.