Book 24 - At War With Satan

by GailDunn2

WARNING: Contains adult content. The landscape of the world is changing, now that Lucifer has set Armageddon in motion. Many members of the God Squad are changing, too, and not for the better. As the war rages on, how far are the principal players willing to go to resolve the situation?

1. How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Chapter 1 - How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Dean sat down heavily in front of the fire. He took a stick and poked around, hoping the food would be heated evenly this time. Last time, half of it had been piping hot, and the other half was stone cold. But at least she was finally letting him build a fire to heat it up with. Dean supposed he'd been pretty hard on her, but he was sick of living rough. His whole body hurt, all of the time. Had there ever been a time that he'd thought he enjoyed camping? Well, if so, he was completely over it. If he got out of this mess alive, from now on it was five-star hotels, all the way.

But he was going to keep his big yap shut today. It was Mother's Day, a touchy day for almost all of their whole group. You couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting at least one member of any of their teams who would like to just forget that this day even existed on the calendar.

Dean's entire team took the prize, as far as that dubious distinction was concerned. In prior years, he and Sammy had always had a bit too much to drink, on this particular day, and avoided the subject like the plague.

Then there was Bobby, whose mother had committed suicide. Her soul had been condemned to Hell as a result. Bobby was drinking way too much these days, in the brothers' opinion, but today, he had a free pass.

And then there was Gail. She took a seat on the log beside Dean now. She took both of his hands in hers, surprising him.

"I know this is a difficult day for all of you," Gail told Dean quietly. "I just had a chat with Sam about the same thing." She smiled wryly. "Well, as much chatting as you can get out of him these days, anyway."

Dean nodded. He knew what she was talking about. Sam had grown more and more introverted as the weeks and months went by, and now, he barely spoke at all. Dean couldn't remember the last time Sam had made a joke or flashed his signature grin.

"I told Sam, and I'll tell you, too," Gail continued, "there's no crime in asking for help once in a while. You guys can always talk to me, Dean. I know what day it is today, and I know how crappy it is for me, so I can just imagine what it's like for you guys."

Dean gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Hey, we're all in the same boat, Gail," he said softly.

She gave him a small shrug. "Not really," she said. "That was Frank's mother. For all I know, mine might still be alive. That is, if my father hasn't murdered her yet. But we'll save that fun discussion for Father's Day. I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for that: 'Thanks for not killing me too, Dad, Love, Your Unwanted Child'."

Dean's eyes narrowed. Was she joking, or not? These days, it was increasingly hard to tell. She had developed a hard edge to her, one that he hated to see. He supposed it was a necessary defense mechanism for her. He and Sammy had been wading through this kind of blood and gore for most of their lives, but Gail had been largely sheltered from it. First, by Frank, when they were growing up together, and then by Cas, up until recently. But it had always been pretty much inevitable that she would be thrust into a life of violence, he supposed. Look who she hung around with. Hell, look who she was married to.

"You never opened that envelope, did you?" Dean asked her.

"I never had time," Gail replied. "After we got back from getting the Netherworld Tablet, we dove right into Christmas preparations. Cas and I never even got the chance to discuss it. But to tell you the truth, I don't see how I could NOT open it. I'm just too curious, especially after what Frank's mom said. Although it'll probably come back and bite me in the ass, like everything seems to do. But hey, how bad could it be? Look at the crapstorm we're dealing with right now."

"When's the last time you talked to Cas?" Dean asked Gail. He released her hands and poked at the fire again.

She shrugged. "I don't know, Dean. I can't remember."

He stared at her. "You don't remember." Dean shook his head slowly. Of all the things that Gail had said during this conversation, this simple statement bothered him the most. "You don't remember?" he repeated, raising his voice.

Gail was annoyed now. "That's what I said, Dean. Which word is tripping you up?"

Dean got angry. He threw the stick into the fire and turned around to face her. "Don't be a smartass," he said sharply. "You don't remember? And you don't find anything wrong with that? The Gail I used to know would have had the time and date and all the details of the conversation written in her diary, with X's and O's and little heart stickers around it."

"Well, maybe I'm not that Gail anymore," she retorted. "I've spent nearly half a year now killing people practically non-stop, so forgive me if I don't remember every little detail of a conversation with my spouse."

"Cas would," Dean said pointedly.

Gail began to cry silently. "You know what, Dean? You can be a real bastard, sometimes," she told him. She stood up, but he grabbed her by the wrist.

"I'm sorry, Gail," he said. "But it's good to know that you still care enough to cry about it."

She wrenched herself out of his grasp. "Well, I'm glad you're so happy," she said tartly. "Just one more thing for me to feel like shit about. Thanks, Dean. Thanks a lot."

Gail winked herself away from the fire so he wouldn't follow her. What he'd said had hurt, and it had hurt a lot. When WAS the last time that she and Cas had had a conversation? And what did Dean care, anyway? He used to complain all the time about how she and Cas were with each other. Just because Dean wasn't able to talk to Nicole didn't mean he should be so mean to Gail.

But she WAS hard now, and she knew it. No more moon-and-June, no more doe eyes. She couldn't afford sentimentality now. With every new day that dawned, it was Gail's responsibility to keep her team alive, and to make sure they killed as many of Lucifer's followers as possible. And, also, to save as many humans as they could, of course. Although sometimes, she had found that it made more sense strategically to sacrifice a few, in order to hold their position.

Gail sat down on a park bench, hanging her head. Yes, it was true. A couple of times, she had deliberately held her team back from attacking the death squad until it was prudent to do so, and humans had sometimes died as a result. Was that the kind of strategy that Cas had employed back in the times of the Angel Wars? Was he using it now? The guilt burned within her. Was this the way he felt all the time? How was he even still sane, then? She'd been tempted so many times to call him and ask him about it, but she was too afraid. What if she told him what she had done, and he was appalled? So she had put off calling him, and when he'd called her, she had made excuses. And every time that happened, she had painted on another hard coat of protection. If this didn't end soon, Gail didn't know how she was ever going to be able to get back to being the person she used to be. Or, if she even wanted to.

Mother's Day. Gail's thoughts drifted to Frank now. How was he doing? What was he feeling?

Frank was feeling ravenous at the moment. He and Jody had stolen a few minutes to do what married couples sometimes did, and now, he was rooting around in the fridge of the house they'd broken into for something to eat.

"Find anything?" Jody asked him. She shuffled into the kitchen, stretching her limbs. She wished they'd been able to take a nap, but they couldn't afford to take the time. Kevin and Tommy were downstairs in the basement watching the news, and the couple had told them they'd only be fifteen minutes or so.

Frank found some lunch meat that passed his sniff test, and he made Jody and himself a sandwich. His team had had it just as rough as the other teams, according to Kevin's reports, but today, Frank felt like a king. He'd gotten to make love to his wife in an actual bed for a change, and now, he was having a sandwich.

He'd known that it was Mother's Day, of course. In this day and age, you couldn't escape the knowledge of those kinds of things, even if you wanted to. His heart ached as he thought of his own mother, as it always did on this day. The last time they'd seen her, she'd been a pathetic, creepy ghost who'd been rude to his sister and her husband. But she was still Frank's Mom, and it always hurt to think of her on this day. Then Frank had started to think about Jody. This must be a hard day for her, too. She'd lost her first son, and they'd been away from Robbie going on six months now, without having spoken to the boy even once. They'd received reports from Chuck via Angel Radio that Robbie and Barry were OK, but it was hardly the same. So Frank had sought to give and receive some comfort from Jody, and one thing had led to another, and here they were.

But it was time to get to get back to business now. They'd had their moment of loving, and they'd also had a cry together, although neither Frank nor Jody would have revealed the latter even under point of torture. There was no way that Frank would allow a pity party, not on his watch. What made their pain greater than anyone else's? How about Kevin, whose mom was also a ghost, killed by Lucifer and stuck in the Netherworld for eternity? How about Tommy, whose mother was still alive, but who had told her son that he was dead to her, just because of his sexual preference? Who had died and made her God, anyway? Frank couldn't believe how closed-minded some people could be. Tommy was a great guy, a stand-up individual who Frank felt privileged to fight beside and more importantly, to call his friend. It could be argued that Tommy's pain was the worst of all, because in his mother's view, it was Tommy who was dead, not her.

And how about Gail? How must she be feeling today? His sister had had two mothers, and apparently, neither one of them had wanted her. How great must that feel? And at least Frank and Jody had each other. Cas and Gail hadn't seen each other since last Christmas. This must be killing them.

Frank grabbed Jody's hand and kissed it. Yeah, all things being equal, he was a pretty lucky guy.

"Dean told me about the fight," Sam said to Gail. He sat down beside her on the bench.

"Fight? What fight?" Gail said to him. "Your brother's an ass. End of story."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me that," Sam said mildly. "I've known that for thirty-five years now."

Gail's lips started to twitch, but she made them stop. No. Sam wasn't going to get her that easily.

Sam sighed. He'd been hoping. But he had noticed the change in Gail, too. It was amazing how much you were able to observe just by looking, Sam thought to himself. Had Yogi Berra said that? If not, he should have. But, Berra-ism or not, it was true. Sam had seen the thick curtain come gradually down over Gail's face as the weeks and months had gone by, and he had understood. Just as Sam had retreated into himself for protection, Gail had crafted this persona for herself, a sort of female version of Warrior Cas. An individual who did whatever was necessary to get the job done. An emotional automaton. Sam had understood that that was what she needed to do for herself in order to survive this. But now she was starting to believe her own press, and they couldn't let that happen.

"I think you owe Dean an apology," Sam said bluntly. There. See what she did with that.

Predictably enough, she turned on him. "You have got to be kidding me with this," Gail said angrily. "Did he tell you what he said to me?"

"Yeah, he did, and he's right," Sam insisted. "You need to talk to Cas."

"Oh, what would you know about it?" she snapped. "You have no idea how I feel. None of you do."

Sam let out a frustrated breath. "No? You might be surprised." He continued to stare at her. Gail might have a hard shell now, but to the best of his knowledge, she still had all her brain cells intact.

Gail saw him staring, and she made a face. Yes, she knew exactly what he was talking about. That particular elephant had been tamed and turned into a circus animal now, but it would never completely go away, no matter how many women Sam would date, or take to bed. But that didn't mean that they were ever going to talk about it.

"You know, for a guy who hasn't talked in weeks, you picked one hell of a topic," Gail said instead, and her tone was bitter. "Maybe you need to mind your own business."

"You are my business," Sam said calmly. "You, and Dean, and Bobby. And Cas."

"Fine. Then YOU lead the frigging squad. I'm tired of it, anyway," she shot back.

Sam smiled grimly. Now, they were getting somewhere. He had been surprised, to say the least, when Cas had designated Gail as the leader of their team. Maybe it was because she was the one with the otherworldly powers, or maybe it had been designed to give her some confidence. But whatever the reason, Sam thought the decision had been an error on Cas's part. Not tactically, because she had shown herself to be a very competent and shrewd leader. But emotionally speaking, Sam thought that Cas had done a real disservice to his wife. Just because Cas could handle that kind of a role didn't mean that Gail could.

"I know you're tired, Gail," he said softly. "You need to talk to Cas and tell him how you feel. Ask for his emotional support."

"Would you be saying that to him, if the situation was reversed?" she asked Sam.

He couldn't help but smile. "Bad example, Gail. Yes. Yes, I would."

"Shut up, Sam," she said quickly, and he started to grin. He was getting to her now. They'd be sharing a laugh in a minute.

Sam opened his mouth to speak again, but Gail held up her hand. "No, I mean it, Sam," she insisted. Then she frowned. "Demons."

Suddenly, half a dozen Demons appeared in front of them. Sam and Gail leaped off of the bench, pulling out their Demon knives. Gail repelled one Demon with her golden beams, but two more grabbed her from behind, holding her arms. Sam was fighting the other three. He killed one right away and was tussling with the others when the Demon that Gail had repelled got up and took out his Angel blade. As Gail struggled fiercely to get free, he rushed forward and stabbed her in the stomach.

Gail yelled in pain, and the sight of her bleeding galvanized Sam, who killed both Demons he'd been fighting with. Then he ran over and helped free Gail from her captors. As soon as her arms were loose, she repelled one of the Demons who had been holding her and killed the other, as Sam dispatched the one who had stabbed her. Sam went after the one she had repelled as Gail collapsed to the ground, clutching her stomach. But the Demon saw Sam coming, and It escaped the vessel It was in before Sam could get there.

The younger Winchester wheeled around. Gail was laying on the grass, bleeding copiously. That guy had gotten her good. She wasn't going to die or anything, but she was losing blood rapidly, he noticed.

Sam fell to his knees by her side, picking her up in his arms. "Get me inside, Sam," she said weakly, gritting her teeth. Then she passed out.

Gail opened her eyes slowly. Where was she? All she saw were books on shelves. Was she back in the bunker?

Sam was kneeling at her side, pressing on her stomach wound. He'd folded up his jacket and was using it to try to soak up some of the blood. But the jacket was saturated now, and she was still bleeding. This was ridiculous. What the hell kind of a knife had that Demon used?

Dean was pacing back and forth across the library floor. Sam and Gail had been sitting on a bench in front of the town's library when they'd been attacked. It was after hours, but Sam had slipped the lock and brought Gail inside. Then, he had run over to the desk and called Dean on his cell. Cell phones had been forbidden by Cas, but Dean had brought his, anyway. Dean agreed with Cas that there shouldn't be any chit-chatting or ringing phones, but he'd also thought it was nuts to rely on Angel communications alone. So he had received Sam's frantic call, then collected Bobby, and the two of them had hightailed it over to the library. But not before Dean had made a call of his own.

Sam was frowning now. "I can't get the bleeding under control," he told Dean and Bobby.

"Don't worry, Cas'll be here in a minute," Dean said to his brother.

"What?!" Gail exclaimed. She tried to sit up, but the pain was too great, and Sam was holding her down. "What are you talking about?"

"I called Chuck and told him to call Cas," Dean told her.

"Well, un-call him!" she said, agitated. "I don't want him to leave his team."

Dean shrugged. "Too bad. When you passed out, I took command, and I decided he's coming."

"Well, that's a bad decision," she shot back.

"Oh, yeah?" he retorted. "Then let me put it in terms that General Gail should understand: You need to be healed, because you're of no use to us like this. Do you get that?"

"All right, Dean, that's enough," Cas said wearily. He had just popped into the room, and he'd heard their angry exchange. When Chuck had called Cas to report what Dean had said, he'd told Cas that Dean had sounded very upset. And not only about Gail's wound, either. There was something very wrong over there.

Cas had been reluctant to leave his team too, but he'd had to go to her, of course. He'd turned to Ethan, who was already nodding. "Of course you need to go," Ethan had assured Cas. "I'll keep us here on lockdown until you return."

So Cas was at Gail's side now, and he removed Sam's jacket from her stomach, placing it on the floor. He laid both of his hands on her wound, and the blue glow suffused her torso. A moment later, the wound was gone.

Cas stood, looking at Bobby and the Winchesters. "Can you please leave us alone for a minute?" he asked the men. Then he put his hand out for Sam to shake. "Thank you for being there for her," Cas said. They shook, and then Cas looked at Dean. "And thank you, for calling Chuck on that phone you're not supposed to have." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's good to see all of you," Cas told his friends in a soft voice.

Dean put his hand on top of Cas's. "You too, man," he said in a thick voice. Then he said, "Do me a favour? Convince her not to kill me." Dean nodded towards Gail, and then he left the room with the others.

Cas walked back to Gail and sat down on the floor beside her. "How are you, my love?" he said, taking her hand.

Gail wasn't looking at him, but she waved her hand absently, cleaning the blood from both of them. She no longer needed her blade in her hand to make the golden rays come. "Don't ask me that," she said tonelessly. "I'm sure you and Dean had a nice little chat about what a bitch I am now. He hates me now, Cas. But, you know what? That's OK, because I hate him, too. He knew I didn't want you to come, but he called you, anyway."

Cas's heart sank. It was worse than he had thought. "Gail, look at me. Please."

"I don't want to," she said. "You look so sad."

"Of course I'm sad," he replied. "I miss you so much."

"Quit it, Cas," she said sharply. "I mean it. I'll pop out of here right now, I swear."

He picked her up off the floor and held her in his lap, cradling her in his arms. "You don't hate Dean, and he certainly doesn't hate you," Cas told her softly. "The one you hate is me, and rightly so. I'm the one who sent you out here. This is all my fault."

As he had hoped, her body stiffened, and she said, "It's not your fault; it's Lucifer's."

Cas was glad to hear her expressing her anger. He could understand it, and he could relate to it. That meant there was still hope for her. He hugged her tightly, then he pulled out of the embrace and cupped her face with his hand, making her look at him. "I love you, and I miss you so much that it hurts much more than any wound I could ever sustain," Cas said to her. "I want to hear you say that you feel the same way. Or, if you don't, you can tell me that, too. Just tell me how you feel, Gail. Talk to me."

"How the hell do you think I feel, Cas?" she asked him irritably.

"Angry. Discouraged. Tired. And sad," Cas responded. He gave her a small smile. "Am I in the ballpark?"

Gail sighed. "Well, if you knew all of that, why did you ask?"

Cas touched her lips with his thumb, to see if he could feel a smile. But it was difficult to tell. Then she kissed his thumb, and he let out a relieved breath. She was still reachable.

"I love you, Cas, and I miss you so much that it's like a million of those stomach wounds, all at once," she told him. The tears prickled at her eyes now. "I didn't mean it when I said I didn't want you to come. I've been wanting you to come, to see me, every minute of every day. I've been fighting Lucifer's soldiers, but I've also been fighting myself. I've been fighting the urge to call you and beg you to come, and I've been fighting the urge to just desert my post and come where you are. I didn't want to hug you, because I was afraid I'd never be able to let you go."

Gail was crying now, and she was touching his face with both of her hands. It normally broke Cas's heart to see her cry, and it still did, but he was glad, too. This was his Gail. "Please keep your faith, my darling," he said to her. "We will prevail."

"How can you be so sure, Cas?" Gail said doubtfully.

Now he smiled. "Because, as a very wise person once told me, love trumps everything."

Gail threw her arms around him, and he kissed her on the mouth. She kissed him back and he gave her a squeeze, then released her. "I'd better get back," Cas said to her. Then he smiled again. "Do you want me to punch Dean before I go?"

Finally, he was rewarded with a laugh. "No, but I may have to call you to come back and do it, when HE punches ME," she said dryly. Then she sighed. "He's put up with a lot from me, Cas. They all have. I've been spending so much time trying not to fall apart that I've forgotten that everybody's trying not to fall apart."

Cas nodded. It did his heart good to hear her talk like that. Empathy was one of her many, many most lovable qualities, and it was a hallmark of her true nature. As long as she could still exhibit that to him, she would be fine. He had feared that his decision to send her out here to lead had been a mistake. He knew what a toll that type of role could take on an individual, having lived with it himself for much of his existence in Heaven. But he had felt that Gail had progressed enough to handle it.

"OK, give me one more kiss and then take off, before I wrap myself around you like a boa constrictor and refuse to let you go," Gail said to her husband now, and he laughed. What a miracle that they had both been able to laugh today.

"You say that as if it would be a bad thing," Cas quipped in a light tone. She smiled, and he kissed her on the lips, then on the nose, and then on her lips once again. He wanted to retain the memory of her smile against his lips.

Then he winked himself away.

Becky was trimming her fingernails short, just like Ethan had taught her. Before all this had happened, she'd had lovely long fingernails, which she used to polish and maintain. But they were a liability, Ethan had told her. So he'd advised that she should cut them short, and she had complied. It was gross cleaning all the blood out from underneath them, anyway.

She grabbed the nail file she'd found in the bureau drawer of the bedroom of the house they were holed up in and started to file her fingernails. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

Becky rolled her eyes. That could only be Riley. "Come in, Riley," she said, shaking her head.

But it wasn't Riley, or any of her group. It was a human man who opened the door, and he grinned when he saw her sitting on the bed.

"Hey, Baby," he said. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. "What's Castiel doing, leaving a girl as pretty as you are all alone like this?"

Becky smiled. "You really think I'm pretty?"

"You sure are," he said. He approached her, still smiling. "My boss wants me to kill you, but if you play ball, maybe I won't."

"Play ball?" Becky said in her ditsiest voice. "But I don't like sports."

The man laughed. He bent down to look at her more closely. Now he saw why this one was on Castiel's team. She obviously wasn't smart enough to take care of herself. He reached out to grab her. But Becky grabbed him, instead. She drove the nail file she had behind her back into one of his eyeballs, and then into the other. Cas had taught her quite a few ways to incapacitate a man. If you took away his eyesight, for instance, you could pretty much do whatever you wanted to do after that. Then she gripped the bloody nail file tighter and cut the man's throat with it. Once you had your enemy down, you should go right for the kill, Cas had instructed. Every moment you wasted hesitating was a moment that the enemy gained to regroup. The blood came spouting out of the man's throat. Becky had cut him deep.

Becky sprang off the bed and ran over to the dresser, where she'd put her Demon knife down when she had grabbed the nail file. Lucky the man had been a human. Cas was right; you should always keep your weapon on you, somewhere. Always. She crossed over to the bedroom door and flung it open, calling out for Ethan or Riley.

But a moment later, Castiel appeared. "They're outside," he told her. "What's the matter?"

She gestured behind her into the bedroom, and he saw the blood on her. He withdrew his blade, rushing into the room. His jaw dropped when he saw the dead man laying on the bed. His throat was still gushing blood.

Cas looked at Becky, astonished. "Did you do this?" he asked her.

She showed him the bloody nail file. "Yeah, Cas." She walked over to the bed and looked down at the corpse dispassionately. Then she wiped the nail file on the dead man's pants and put it in her pocket.

Cas continued to gape at her as Riley and Ethan entered the room. "Wow, Becky," Riley said quietly. "Remind me never to make you mad."

Castiel smiled slowly. A part of him felt sad that he'd had to educate a young, innocent Angel such as Becky in the art of murder. But mostly, he was proud of her. This was war, and she'd had to defend herself. Cas was pretty sure he knew what that piece of filth would have had in mind for her.

"How's Gail?" Ethan asked Cas.

"She'll be all right," Cas told him, somewhat unconvincingly.

"Well, good," Ethan replied heartily. The inflection of Cas's voice hadn't escaped him, though. "Now that you know we can all take care of ourselves, you can pop over to see her more often. If Becky can do THIS, you won't need to worry as much about us. No offense, Becky," he added quickly, and the men all smiled.

She waved her hand airily. "None taken, Ethan." She smiled at Cas. "Ethan's right, Cas," Becky told him. "You and Gail have to see each other from time to time. Just like humans need oxygen, you two need each other to survive." And besides, she's been out there with Sam for far too long, Becky thought to herself. She'd seen war movies and TV shows. Sometimes when men and women were together under such stressful conditions, things happened between them that they didn't intend to happen. Becky knew that Sam had feelings for Gail, and if her husband was never around, who knew what could happen?

"I agree, Cas," Ethan chimed in. "I know we're all Angels, but when we first saw you just now, you looked - "

" - Twenty years younger," Riley finished for him.

The young Angels all looked at each other and then laughed, and Cas smiled wearily. "I think we should refer to today as the Day of Miracles," he told his charges. "I got to see my wife and make her laugh, Becky has dispatched an enemy quite admirably, and now, Riley is insulting me about my age. All blessings from our Father, even that last one." He clapped Riley on the shoulder, to show his young protegee that he was only joking.

Castiel's heart felt lighter now, as his group prepared to leave the house. So much so, in fact, that he sent Gail a message of love on their private frequency, letting her know that he would check in on her again, soon.

Quinn was in the seance room dusting the furniture when she got the strongest urge she'd ever received. She drew the black drapes and doused the light, then she sat down at the table. This felt a little ridiculous. She was all alone. But a moment later, Linda appeared. Quinn was startled. A spirit, manifesting from the veil all by itself? As far as she knew, this was unprecedented.

"Hi, Linda," she said. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Is it true that Lucifer has started Armageddon?" Linda said bluntly. "Is he sending out death squads to kill humans in different spots on the Earth?"

Quinn's heart sank. So that was what had been going on. She'd seen on the news that there had been systematic murders in other parts of the States, and Europe, and Africa, and some of those towns had undergone quite a bit of property damage, as well. There had also been rumours of rapes, and satanic rituals. But just as the police had begun to investigate, there were reports of other, mystery groups that would appear out of nowhere and start murdering the murderers. Then, the crimes would cease altogether, and then resume in another place.

"I believe that's exactly what is happening," Quinn responded, explaining to Linda what she'd been seeing on the news.

Linda was frantic. Luke had been right. "Dammit!" she swore. "They only need one more item, but Luke won't give it up! And now, he's kicked me out of his house. We could put a stop to this once and for all if we could just find out what the damn thing is! But my cover is blown now, Quinn. I need you to tell Castiel that."

Quinn sighed. She promised Linda that she would do what she could to relay the message. Then Linda told Quinn she'd manifest again if there was any news, or if Quinn were to summon her. Then she was gone.

The medium sat there for a moment, thinking. She was pretty sure that all of her contacts would be in those mystery groups that were fighting the Devil's followers. Then she shrugged and took her cell phone out of her pocket. All she could do was try.

Barry was passing by Sam's room in the hallway, and he heard a phone ringing. He entered Sam's room and went to the nightstand by the bed. Sam had left his cell there, and it was this phone that Barry was hearing. He looked at the Call Display. Quinn.

Barry answered the phone. "I'm sorry, but Sam isn't here right now," he told the psychic. "Is there a message?"

Quinn told him about Linda's appearance, and what she had said. "Leave it with me," Barry said. He hung up and called Chuck's cell number, which he'd committed to memory, relaying the message to Chuck to pass on to Cas.

Then Barry continued on down the hall to the living room area, where Robbie was sitting, flipping through channels on the TV.

"Supper's ready," Barry told the boy.

"I'm not hungry," Robbie said shortly.

"I made one of your favourites," Barry cajoled.

"What part of 'I'm not hungry' don't you understand, Barry?" Robbie retorted.

Barry's eyes narrowed, but Robbie was speaking in his own voice, not Lucifer's. Ever since that one incident, as far as Barry knew, that had never happened again. But it was almost worse this way. Another birthday had come and gone for Robbie, and Barry had done the best he could, but it had been a miserable day. Robbie was a teenager now, and he was starting to act out. Anything Barry asked him to do, it seemed, Robbie would do the opposite. He'd informed Barry that he wanted to be called "Rob" now. "Robbie" was a name for little kids.

Rob was bitter now, and Barry could understand why. Most of his childhood had been stolen from him, and nearly all of his parents had been now, too. It had been just the two of them in the bunker for so long now that it often felt like they were the only survivors of a nuclear war, or something, condemned to stay underground until they died of old age.

"I get that you're angry, and frustrated," Barry said to the boy, "but so am I, and there's no reason to speak to me like that."

"Whatever," Robbie said, shrugging. "Leave me alone."

Barry sat there for a moment, staring at Robbie. No: Rob. What the hell was he supposed to do here? He couldn't let this stand, but he couldn't be too tough on the boy, either. Barry was at a total loss. Frank and Jody would know what to do, and so would Tommy, he was sure. But he had no clue.

After a minute, he walked back down the hallway to the kitchen and called Chuck again, asking him to come. A moment later, Chuck appeared. He told Barry that he had given Cas Quinn's message, and that everyone was fine. Well, physically, anyway. Then Barry told Chuck about his conversation with Rob.

"What should I do, Chuck?" Barry asked the Angel.

Chuck thought about that for a minute. Hell if he knew. He'd never had any kids, nor had he spent much time around them. What would he know about it? But then it occurred to Chuck that, as somebody who'd spent a great deal of time feeling angry and bitter, he might actually be the ideal person to talk to the boy.

"I'll go out there," he told Barry. "Maybe you should stay here, though. We don't want it to look like we're ganging up on him."

"Chuck," Rob said coolly when he saw the Angel. "Did Barry call you to come here and talk to me?"

Chuck drew up a chair from the library table and sat down. "Nope," he said, "but he did mention that you've been acting like a little snothead."

That got Rob's attention. He turned off the TV and threw the remote on the coffee table. Then he looked at Chuck. "I watch the news every night," Rob told the Angel. "And every night, there are reports about all of the murders in all of those towns all over the world. Every damn night, since they all left at Christmastime. It never ends, Chuck. It's never gonna end. You know, they might as well have taken me with them and given me over to the Demons, 'cause I have no life here. I can't go out, I can't go to school, I have no friends, and I have nothing to look forward to. Barry baked me a cake for my birthday, but that was it. No card, no presents. Nothing. Do you know if we're even gonna have a Christmas, this year?"

Chuck frowned. He had been letting the kid vent because he understood where he was coming from, but he had to nip this in the bud, now. "I thought you told Barry you weren't a little kid anymore," Chuck said calmly.

"I'm not," Rob replied.

"Then why are you bawling like a baby?" Chuck said, raising his voice. "'Waaah, waaah, waaah. I have a crappy life. I didn't get a present on my birthday.' Well, isn't that a damn shame. Do you want to know what kind of crappy lives they're all having? Their greatest birthday present is not getting raped, or tortured, or killed!" Chuck continued in a harsh tone. "Grow up, 'Rob'! If you want to be an adult, then act like an adult!"

Rob gaped at Chuck. He had expected his Uncle Chuck to coddle him, telling him to have faith, and that everything would work out OK. Just like Barry always did.

Then Chuck softened, seeing the expression on the boy's face. "Look, Rob, I know how much it sucks. But you have to realize that it sucks for everyone, some more than others. But you can't let it turn you into a dick. I spent too much of my life being bitter and resentful, and it got me nowhere. But then, when I finally decided I wanted something better for myself, I became a better person, and when I did, I received so many blessings, Rob. Don't do what I did, kid. Don't become me."

Rob looked into Chuck's eyes. He could tell his Uncle was being sincere. Rob had seen things in his visions about Chuck, some things that weren't very nice. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Uncle Chuck," he said, sounding more like himself. "I don't want to be a dick. I just want our family back."

Chuck nodded. "So do I, Rob. So does Barry. Can you imagine how he feels? He hasn't seen his own fiance since Christmas. I talk to Uncle Cas on Angel Radio a couple of times a week and he gives me updates, but it's not the same."

Rob thought about that. He'd never actually thought about it from Barry's point of view before. He'd been so busy thinking about how this sucked for him to stop and consider how it might be sucking for everybody else.

Rob got up from the couch and walked down the hall to the kitchen, Chuck trailing behind. The boy went right to Barry, who had been sitting glumly at the table, picking at a plate of food. Barry rose from his chair and Rob threw his arms around Barry. "I'm sorry," the boy said, and now he was sniffling back tears.

Barry hugged the boy to him. He looked at Chuck in amazement. He'd been trying to get Rob to come around for weeks. Just ten minutes with Chuck, and the boy was himself again.

Chuck gave Barry a small shrug. Today's victory was a nice one, but they would have to try to spend more time getting Rob to talk things out. Now that he was a teenager, they would soon be dealing with a crapstorm of hormonally-charged emotions and teenage angst, along with everything else. Chuck sighed inwardly. Poor Barry.

Frank's group was in Flint, Michigan on Independence Day. It looked like they were going to have a rare day off. Tommy and Kevin had just popped back to where Frank and Jody were waiting in the park, with the report that the Demons and the bikers had started a beer bash on the outskirts of town. They were Americans, Kevin and Tommy had overheard the humans saying, and they were going to take the day off to celebrate the birth of the best damn country in the world.

"It's just an excuse for them to get loaded," Tommy told Frank, "but it gives us a bit of a breather, anyway."

Frank nodded. Good deal. He should have figured as much, too. This particular group seemed a lot less interested in killing people than some of the others had been. Maybe it was because it was just too damn hot, or maybe this bunch weren't exactly self-starters. Jason was supposed to be their team leader, according to Paul's intel, but Frank hadn't seen hide nor hair of the vampire. And he had definitely been looking. Apparently, Jason had no interest in Lucifer's agenda. He must be off somewhere, pursuing one of his own. It would actually be a pretty good time to be a vampire, Frank had thought with grim amusement. With all of the death and mayhem and blood around, Jason could just flit around and snack with impunity. Who would even notice? But Frank was disappointed that Jason wasn't anywhere around. After Romania, he felt like he owed him one.

Not that there wasn't plenty of work to be had for a dedicated Hunter like Frank, and his team worked very well as a cohesive unit by now. But today, they could probably stand down. It was funny, really. Frank may be a Hunter, but he had a fairly prim and proper set of ethics, too. Cas would probably just pop over there and wait until the squad was piss-eyed drunk and chop them all up. But Frank couldn't bring himself to do it. Unless they were attacking humans, it felt wrong to him. That was probably gonna come back and bite him in the ass. Still, his team could use the rest.

"Let's take a walk around the park," Frank suggested. "I smell a barbecue. Maybe we can suck up and beg a hotdog or three."

A few minutes later, they came upon a group of half a dozen big, burly men drinking beer and cooking hotdogs on a portable grill.

"Oh, man," Frank groaned. "Beer and hot dogs. Sam and Dean should be here. They'd think they died and went to Heaven."

"If they did, they wouldn't be eating hot dogs," Kevin quipped. "Kind of a Catch-22, when you think about it."

"Nobody likes a smartass, Kevin," Frank said, but he was smirking now.

Jody was looking at the man who was doing the grilling. Why did he look familiar to her?

Matt stood there, holding the tongs in his hand. He looked at Frank's group, open-mouthed. "Hey! It's the Angels!" he exclaimed.

Frank's guard went up immediately. Who the hell was this guy, and why would he say that? "Who are you?" he barked, dropping his hand to his belt. His Demon knife was in a sheath in the back, and it would do for whichever flavour this guy was.

But Jody put her hand on top of Frank's. "We saw him on CNN, Frank. He was one of our designates from that last plane."

Oh, right. Now Gail's brother remembered. The rough-and-tumble guy, who grabbed the microphone from the reporter and gave Lucifer the finger. Both fingers, actually.

"Hi," Frank said to Matt. He approached the man and extended his hand for a shake. "Happy Independence Day."

Matt handed the tongs to another guy in his group and shook Frank's hand. "Matt," he said. He looked at Jody and Tommy. "It's good to see you again," he told them. "I never got the chance to thank you all for saving our lives that day."

"Well, you can thank us right now, if you've got a couple of extra hot dogs," Frank said, smiling. "I guess we'd better take a pass on the beer, though."

"Hot dogs?" Matt said, puzzled. "I thought that Angels didn't eat."

Frank made a face. "Yeah, about that..." He explained that only some members of their group were Angels, while others were not. "It was just easier at that point to say we all were," he told Matt. "Besides, we wanted to send Lucifer a message." He frowned. "Apparently, he got it."

"Are you guys here to deal with those death douchebags?" Matt asked them, and Kevin laughed. Frank looked at the young Angel. "Sorry, but that was funny," Kevin remarked. "It sounded like something Dean would say."

Frank nodded. He realized he wasn't the only one who was missing all of their friends. "Yeah. You're right," he agreed. He looked back at Matt. "'The death douchebags'," Frank repeated. "You should go back on CNN and say that. Maybe then, people would pay attention."

"I know, right?" Matt said, nodding. "It's like most of the people you talk to have their heads in the sand. Or up their butts, maybe. Everyone's in denial. So, I got this small group of mine together," he continued, indicating the men he was with. "They're cops and firefighters, and I'm a construction worker. Let the Village People jokes commence."

Frank grinned. He was really starting to like this guy.

"We've decided we're not gonna just bend over and take it," Matt went on. "We're all armed, and if any of those guys decide to start anything here, we're gonna be ready for them."

"That's great, but only some of them are humans," Jody chipped in. "You can't kill a Demon with a gun, or an ordinary knife."

"A Demon?!" one of Matt's friends exclaimed.

"Yes, a Demon," Tommy said, with a touch of impatience. "Like the beings that hijacked those planes."

"You guys seemed to do all right," Matt countered.

"We have special, Demon-killing knives," Frank told him.

Oh. Matt thought for a minute. "Well, have you got any extras? How about we trade you? Demon knives for hot dogs?"

Frank smiled, but he was shaking his head. "Hey, we'd just give them to you, if we had any extras. But we've only got one per person."

"I know where there are lots of Demon knives," Kevin piped up. "The weapons room in Heaven."

Matt's eyebrows shot up. "There's a weapons room in Heaven?"

Kevin was grinning now. "You'd be surprised what's up there," he told the men.

Frank was intrigued. This bore some exploration. Then he decided: "Kevin, can you call Cas and find out if he's got a minute? Then, if he does, I want you to pop me over there to talk to him." Frank looked at Jody as Kevin made the call. "Will you and Tommy be OK for a minute, if you'll stay here with these guys?"

"Sure, Frank," she told him, nodding her head. "I think that's a conversation you and Cas need to have."

Frank smiled at his wife appreciatively. She was right there with him, as always.

"We're good to go, Frank," Kevin said.

Frank removed his Demon knife from its sheath, asked Kevin for his, and passed them both to Matt. "Here," he said to the man. "Just in case. We'll be back in just a few, but if you mean what you're saying and there is an attack, I don't want to take the chance. We're going to pop over to Africa and see the head Angel. I'm sure you'd remember him from the plane. Dark hair, black blazer, total badass?"

"Yeah, of course I remember him," Matt replied. "But how are you gonna pop over to Africa? I thought you weren't an Angel."

"I'm not, but he is," Frank said, gesturing to Kevin, who sketched a brief salute. Then Frank looked at the grill. "Hey, can you hook a brother up with a couple of those?"

Matt smiled. "Sure." He fixed two hot dogs for Frank. Frank gobbled one immediately, then took Kevin's hand with that hand, waving the other hot dog. "I've always wanted to try this," Frank told the group. "Let's see if I can eat and teleport at the same time."

Jody laughed as Frank and Kevin winked out of the park.

Seconds later, Kevin and Frank reappeared in Mali, in the little cottage that Cas had given Kevin the coordinates for. Frank was chewing and swallowing the last remnants of his hot dog.

Kevin was staring at Gail's brother. "Interesting," he remarked.

Cas entered the cottage and closed the door behind him. He regarded both men for a moment, and then he rushed over to them. He gave Kevin a brief hug, and Frank a longer one.

Then Cas came out of the embrace and scrutinized Frank's face, squinting. He touched the corner of Frank's mouth with his fingertips. "You have a yellow substance on your face," Cas stated.

Frank smirked. "It's mustard and get your hand off my face. You're confusing me with my sister."

Cas's expression darkened as he removed his hand, then turned his back on Frank.

"Aww, Cas, I'm sorry, man," Frank said quickly. "I didn't mean to - "

"Why are you here, Frank?" Cas said in a clipped tone.

Frank sighed, wiping the mustard off his face with the back of his hand. "We want to talk to you about Heaven's weapons."

Patricia was at the reception desk talking softly to Laurel when Kevin and Cas popped into Heaven.

Cas strode over to Laurel. "I need the key to the weapons room," he said without preliminary.

Laurel nodded, reaching into her top desk drawer. "Here are the keys to the cabinet in Bobby's - sorry, in the High Office," she amended, handing them to him. "Everything's labelled in there. All the keys, all the access codes."

Cas was impressed by her organization, and he told her this now. She smiled. "Well, let's face it, I haven't had that much to do, with the Office empty. I'm hoping we can resolve that situation, soon."

"Me, too," Cas replied. "That's why we're here. There are a few humans who have expressed a desire to take up arms and stand against Lucifer's followers."

Patricia spoke up. "You're going to give humans Heavenly weapons?" she blurted out.

Cas looked at her coolly. "No, not Heavenly weapons. Just Demon knives," he advised her. There had been something about the way she'd said that, something that had rubbed Cas the wrong way. Her tone had reminded him of the Upper Echelon members', when they used to put Cas down for spending so much time with humans. A superior, disdainful tone. Or maybe Cas was just ultra-sensitive about that.

For her part, Patricia felt that same strange mix of emotions right now. Castiel was waltzing in here giving orders, just as she had feared he would. On the other hand, she supposed the more soldiers they had, the better, even if they were humans. And Castiel was saying he was only going to take Demon knives. She didn't think he would be able to touch the really powerful Holy weapons, anyway. So far as Patricia knew, those could only be handled by God.

"It's good to see you're finally stepping up for Heaven," Patricia said to Castiel, whose eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" Cas asked her.

Patricia shrugged. "I simply mean that you have sometimes been otherwise occupied, when you were needed here," she said bluntly.

"He can't be everywhere, Patricia," Laurel said mildly. "Only our Father can."

"Well, the way Castiel's been acting, I thought he thought he WAS our Father, for a minute, there," Patricia responded tartly. "It's not like there wouldn't be a precedent for that."

Cas moved closer to Patricia now, staring at her. That was a sore subject for him. He was surprised that she would say something like that about him, though. Wasn't Patricia a friend of theirs?

Kevin and Laurel exchanged uncomfortable glances as Castiel and Patricia stared at each other. There was a strange vibe coming from the two of them, Laurel thought. Almost as if they were adversaries. How odd.

Castiel had moved close to Patricia now, so that he could read her face. He was so close now that he was encroaching on what Dean had taught him was called "personal space". But he was doing it on purpose now; sometimes it was the best way to gauge how the person you were speaking with truly felt about you.

Patricia bore Castiel's steady gaze, but her hand was starting to itch now. Part of her sorely wanted to reach up and rake her fingernails down his face. To show him how she really felt about him, now. To scream at him, and tell him she was onto him and Gail, and what sort of people they really were.

"What's the matter, Patricia?" Cas asked quietly. "Is there some sort of a problem I should know about?"

Patricia was seething now. Yes, there was definitely a problem he should have known about. How about Lucifer having interfered with her, just steps away from where they were standing right now? How about that?

"Problem? What kind of a problem could there be, Castiel?" she said in a quivering voice. He was standing too close now, but she was determined to stand her ground.

"You tell me," Cas replied coolly. "You've been acting strangely ever since I got here, and I don't know why you would have said what you did about me behaving like our Father. It was hurtful, and it was uncalled for."

"Oh, was it?" she said offhandedly. And that was all. If he said one more thing, she was going to give herself away. But it was too soon. She needed Lucifer taken care of. She took a step back. "I have to get back to work now." Then Patricia turned her back on the group and scurried back to her department.

Cas stared after her for a moment. OK, that had been very odd. But he had no time to worry about it right now. He and Kevin went and got the knives, and they popped back down to Earth.

"Actually, there's a death squad just outside town," Frank told Matt and his friends, after arming them with the Demon knives Kevin had brought from Heaven. Cas had not accompanied him, wanting to get back to his own team. "If you want, we'll hang around and help you handle them," Frank continued. He smiled wryly. "The humans will be hung over as hell tomorrow anyway, and there'll be more than enough of us to handle the Demons. Piece of cake."

"Sounds good," Matt said. "We're gonna lay off the beer now, but I'll put some more hot dogs on the grill. Burgers, too, if you want."

Frank clapped a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Matty, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

So, Frank's group combined with Matt's group and the next day, they made short work of the decimated death squad. After some discussion the day before, they had decided to call one of the local TV news stations, telling them to be in the park with cameras, ready to film something memorable. The instant one of the advance scouts appeared in the park and Kevin saw the black eyes, he gave the signal, and one of Matt's guys whipped out his cell phone and called the station. He'd described to the reporter the type of situation that was about to occur, figuring that they wouldn't be able to resist filming such compelling television.

And it had been the right call. By the time the news crews got there, the battle was just beginning. The cameramen scrambled to get their equipment out of the truck. This was unbelievable. Two groups of people, having a vicious battle to the death. One team even had a woman on it, but she was just as tough as any of the men, by the looks of it. The fight was fairly lopsided too, from what they could see. As Frank had predicted, the humans on the squad had raging hangovers. One guy even had to interrupt his knife fight with Tommy to bend over and puke. If the situation hadn't been so potentially lethal, Tommy would have laughed. As the guy bent over, Tommy reached into his belt for the gun he had stashed in a holster on his hip and shot the man in the head, execution-style. Then Tommy ran over to help Kevin and one of Matt's men, who were engaging with three Demons.

By the time the cops were on their way, the death squad only had two Demons left, and Frank and Jody had them down on their knees, with Demon knives to their throats.

"Where's your boss?" Frank barked. He grabbed his guy by the hair and yanked his head back, pressing the knife closer to his throat.

The Demon looked uneasily at the TV cameras. Normally, he would have just smoked out by now. But Lucifer had warned them all not to call undue attention to themselves by showing their otherworldly powers to anyone. Well, no one left alive, anyway. Which this particular Demon had thought to be rather strange. They were roaming all over the world, pillaging towns and raping and killing people, but they weren't supposed to call undue attention to themselves? What kind of sense did that even make? But he had seen what happened to any individual who had the chutzpah to question Lucifer, so he'd said nothing.

But Gail's brother and his wife were going to torture them and then kill the crap out of them if they didn't escape from these vessels, now. These Demons knew who the people that were menacing them were, of course. They were on Lucifer's list. If only they had been able to kill these two, especially the man. That would have been a real blow to the heart of the God Squad. But now the shoe was on the other foot, and the Demons no longer had a choice. One of them popped out from underneath Jody and went back to Crowley's domain, and the one Frank was holding opened up his mouth and released the black smoke. As the news crews recorded the event, shocked to the core, the Demon's essence entered Keith, one of Matt's cop friends.

Keith looked at Matt with black eyes. "You'd better stop, right now. There is no defeating Lucifer. You're just gonna end up dead, and if he's in a particularly cranky mood that day, that'll only be the beginning. Give it up, Matt. You can't win."

"We'll never give up," Matt said in a quiet voice. This was unbelievable. Keith was one of his best friends. Matt looked at Frank. "Is there any way to get that thing out of him?"

Frank frowned. "Yeah, there is, but it involves a ritual and a bunch of Latin, and I don't know all the Latin off by heart." Dammit. Sam and Dean would know it, or Cas, of course. But poor Keith had the wrong group here.

Matt took a deep breath. "Well then, I guess we'll just have to kill him," he stated.

"What are you talking about?" another member of Matt's group said angrily. "Kill Keith?"

"He's not Keith any more, Rick," Matt shot back. "He's Lucifer's now."

"Yeah, I am," the Demon wearing Keith said, "and he's the Master. Give it up, you guys. You can't win," he repeated.

"No," Matt said curtly.

Keith shrugged. "Hey, it's your funeral. And I mean that literally. Better make sure your Will's up to date, Rick. Isn't your wife cooking up another kid? Oh well, she'll be all right after you're dead. She's smokin' hot. Keith always wanted to do her. Maybe he'll get his chance."

Rick stepped forward as if he were going to attack Keith, but the Demon possessing Keith raised his arm and blasted Rick across the park, into some bushes. "I'll tell the Boss you'll all be seeing him, real soon," the Demon said. Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

The cameramen stopped filming, lowering their cameras slowly. "That in the holy hell was that?" one of them asked aloud in a hushed voice.

"Exactly," Frank quipped. He sighed. "OK, I just made an executive decision. Hope my brother-in-law doesn't get too mad at me. Come on, Matty. Time for your second 15 minutes of fame."

They walked over to the news crew. "We've got a message from Heaven," Frank told the reporter. "You'll want to have your cameras going for this."

"What was that we just saw?" the reporter asked him, open-mouthed.

"Switch that camera and that microphone on, and we'll tell you," Matt said.

Once the camera was on, Frank looked into the lens and said, "We have a message for Lucifer. Obviously, he didn't get it the first time." He looked at his new friend. "Ready, Matty?"

"Ready, Frank," Matt said, grinning.

Both men looked at the camera and then raised their arms simultaneously. Their middle fingers popped up. "Screw you, Lucifer," Frank said gleefully. "You're gonna lose."

"Who are you guys?" the reporter asked. "And how can you explain what we just saw?"

"Simple," Frank said. "The Devil has decided that he wants to send his - what did you call them, Matty?"

"Death douchebags," Matt said proudly.

"Death douchebags," Frank repeated, speaking into the reporter's microphone. "I love that. Anyway, he's sending these douchebags here to do his dirty work."

"So, let me get this straight," the TV reporter said incredulously. "You're telling us that the pockets of murders we've seen in different parts of the globe have been ordered by Satan?"

"That's exactly what we're telling you," Matt confirmed. "And you just saw the evidence for yourself. We're on a mission from God to fight back, to tell Lucifer we're not gonna put up with this crap anymore."

Aw, hell, Frank thought. Matty probably shouldn't have said that. Not that he was wrong, but Cas might not like that part about being on a mission from God. "I think my buddy here has probably watched those Blues Brothers movies once too often," Frank said, trying to do some damage control. "But all we're trying to say is that people need to stand up and fight these guys. Like you just saw, not all of them are human, so to be honest, some of you will probably die. But, there are millions of people on this planet. If we all band together, we can send Lucifer a pretty strong message. What kind of a world do we want for our kids? My wife and I have a son that we haven't seen in months, because we're out here, fighting for his future."

"Yeah, and my friends and I decided to join them, because we believe in the same thing," Matt added. "So come on, people. If we get together, like Frank says, we can do this. I'm in, full time. What about you guys?" he asked Rick, and his three other friends.

Rick thought about that. What Frank had said really resonated with him. He had two kids already, and he and his wife had another one on the way. He didn't want them to live in a world where things like this were allowed to happen. "We're with you, Matty," he said, and the other men nodded.

"Good," Matt said. "We're gonna stand up and fight with the Angels, and all of you people out there need to do the same."

Frank winced. His buddy Matt needed to rein himself in a little bit. They did want people to rise up and fight back, but that wouldn't happen if people dismissed them as religious nutjobs.

Sure enough, the reporter began to smile. "Angels? Demons? Missions from God?" he asked them, a touch of skepticism in his voice now.

Frank started to do the slow burn. "How else do you explain what you just saw?"

"I don't know. A prank, maybe?" the TV guy said.

Tommy lost it, then. "A prank?" he yelled. "A prank? Do you want to come over here and check for this guy's vitals and then tell me that this is a prank?" He indicated the human he'd shot.

By now, the police began crawling all over the park, and they were already telling Jody and Kevin that their group would all have to come down to the station and answer some questions. Frank frowned. Kevin had always been able to wink them away from these types of situations before the authorities arrived, but they had stayed too long this time. There was no way that they could allow themselves to be taken to the cop shop, though. Not only would they be out of commission for who knew how long, but they could very well be placed under arrest for multiple homicides. The cops only had their word for it that they were the good guys. All the police had were a bunch of dead bodies, and a bunch of people standing over them with weapons in their hands, and blood all over their clothes. Double crap.

"Hey, Kevin, can you call our boss to come here, immediately?" Frank said, edging slowly over to Kevin. Jody and Tommy got what he was doing, and they started to follow suit. "Matty, gather your guys around you, quick," Frank said in a soft voice.

Kevin put through the emergency call, and a moment later, Cas showed up, covered in blood, a Demon blade in his hand. He had been just about to ask Frank what the emergency was, that he was in the middle of his own battle, but he saw all of the police officers surrounding them and immediately understood.

"I think my new friend Matt and his buddies over there could use a lift," Frank said to Cas, nodding over towards Matt's group.

Cas looked at Kevin. "Where to?" he asked, walking swiftly over to Matt.

Kevin thought quickly. "Headquarters," he said vaguely. Cas nodded briefly. He and Kevin winked their groups to the field behind the bunker.

"Holy crap," Matt breathed. He stumbled a bit, and Cas reached out to steady him.

"What's going on, Frank?" Cas said sharply. "I was in the middle of my own battle when you called."

Frank's heart sank. "I'm sorry, Cas. It was the only way I could think of to get both of our groups out of there. Plus, I wanted to talk to you about what happened back there."

"Well, I'm going to have to get back - " Cas started to say, but he was still looking at Matt. "You look familiar to me. Why?"

Matt was much bigger than Cas, but strangely, he felt intimidated by him. This was the badass killer he remembered from the plane, and the guy was covered in blood, and holding a knife in his hand. He didn't look too happy about having been called here, either.

Frank saw the expression on Matt's face. He would have to make it a point to be amused by this later on. But for now, he reminded Cas of who Matt was, and what his group was doing here.

Cas frowned. "I thought when we got the Demon knives for these men, there were six."

Frank told him about Keith having been possessed by a Demon, and what It had said.

"Does that mean Keith is dead?" Rick piped up. The bloody friend of Frank's kind of scared him too, but Keith was his best friend.

"Yes," Castiel said bluntly. "The next time you see him, you must kill him." He thought for a second. "Or, better still, let Frank and Jody bind him, and interrogate him for Lucifer's location."

Rick was astonished. "But, aren't you and the young one there Angels?" He nodded towards Kevin. "Can't you just exorcise him, or something?"

Cas let out a breath. He was really trying to be patient here, but he didn't have that kind of time right now. "I don't have time for this," he said, tight-lipped. He looked at Frank. "These men are your responsibility," he said to his brother-in-law. "I will take them back to Michigan, and then I will have to go." He looked at Matt. "You men will need to decide if you are truly prepared for the risks involved." He looked at Kevin then, giving him the name of a town due west of Flint. Then he winked Matt's group there without another word, and then he was gone.

"Sorry about that," Frank said to Matt when they got back to Michigan. Dammit. He'd really been hoping there would be a way for them to pop into the bunker for a minute or two to see Robbie. He and Jody and Tommy had all talked about how much they missed the boy, and of course, Tommy missed Barry just as much, if not more. But when Frank had seen Cas in that state, he'd known better than to even suggest it. This wasn't a vacation they were on. They had to stick with the program.

Still, with Matt and his friends on board, it was time to move on now. If Lucifer's groups stayed true to form, the death squads would resume their killings in the next town due north, which would be Saginaw. They were just west of there now, so it would be a piece of cake for Kevin to pop them over there in two groups, or even three, if he needed. Frank had known that Kevin wouldn't be able to take them all at once; that was why he had called for Cas. Maybe he had better lay off calling Cas for a while, though; his brother-in-law obviously had his own hands full. But it had been for a good cause. Frank's squad had doubled in number now, and hopefully, if word got out once the news was broadcast, more people would take up arms and fight Lucifer's assassins. This could be just the break they'd been looking for.

A few weeks later, Gail and her squad were walking down the street in a quaint little town in Hungary when a group of young men passed them on the sidewalk, excitedly chattering away in their own language. Gail didn't know what they were saying, of course, but she gaped at the T-shirts they were wearing.

She stopped short, putting her hand on the arm of one of the young men. "Do you speak English?" she asked him. "Can I look at your shirt? Where did you get it?"

It was unclear how much of what she'd said the young man understood, but he smiled and puffed out his chest proudly, saying, "Screw you, Lucifer."

"Holy crap!" Dean exclaimed. On the young man's T-shirt was a screen shot of Frank and Matt from the news broadcast, with their middle fingers raised.

One of the other young men grinned. "CNN," he said. "Americans." He and his friends nodded to Gail's group, then continued on down the sidewalk.

Gail wheeled on Bobby and the Winchesters, open-mouthed. "Did you see that? My brother's on a T-shirt? What the hell, you guys?"

"Not only that, but he's on a T-shirt, giving Lucifer the finger," Sam pointed out. "I don't think I've ever been prouder to call him my friend."

"We need to find a TV," Gail said. "We'd better find out what's been going on that we don't know about."

They walked into a bar that they found on the next block. It was early afternoon, so the place was quiet. Fortunately, the bartender spoke some English and the bar had a satellite dish, so when they asked, he turned on CNN for them. After a few minutes of commercials, the anchorman came on, reporting on the grassroots movement that had started in America, but was now spreading all over the world. "People are taking up arms and fighting the so-called death squads that have been roaming around all over the world. It all started when these two men appeared on a local Michigan newscast, uttering the phrase that has caught on with so many people, all over the world: "'Screw you, Lucifer'." A picture of Frank and Matt came up behind him, identical to the one on the young Hungarian's T-shirt, except for the fact that their hands were pixillated on TV.

They cut to a female co-anchor, who was smiling. "That's right, Jim. These two men have sparked a revolution, of sorts. We now have footage from Algeria, showing local farmers using various types of what appear to be farm implements to fight off a dozen or so men who attacked their town and attempted to set fire to their church."

"Do we have that footage?" Jim asked. Then he nodded. "What you are about to see is very graphic, but we felt it was important to show you what is happening in different parts of the globe. What Anne was saying about a revolution appears to be true, and it seems to be crossing racial lines, as well."

They began to run the footage, and Gail gasped loudly. As soon as they had mentioned Algeria, she had been hoping, of course. The video showed Cas, Ethan, Becky and Riley engaged in a fight with a death squad. Then, suddenly, a group of black men entered the fray, carrying pitchforks, knives, and other farm tools. One woman in a housedress joined them, somewhat amusingly carrying a large iron skillet. She swung it like a major league batter, smashing one man in the face. A Demon was raising his Angel blade to stab Riley in the back while the young Angel's back was turned, and the woman with the frying pan swung again, knocking the knife out of the Demon's hand. He wheeled on her angrily, grabbing her by the neck, but Riley stabbed him then, and his vessel crumpled to the ground. Riley and the woman gave each other a quick smile, and then they ran off to join the fight again.

"Way to go, young Riley," Bobby said softly.

"Wow, look at Becky go," Dean remarked with admiration. He elbowed Sam in the ribs. "You may want to rethink your position on her, Sammy."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, but he was smiling.

It did Gail's heart good to see the young Angels defending themselves so well, and also to hear Bobby and the Winchesters talking like that. Almost as if things were normal. She couldn't remember the last time there had been any semblance of banter between them.

Then Cas came on the screen, and her heart leaped. He was fighting fiercely, engaging with several enemies at once. A farmer was trying to help him, wielding a pitchfork, stabbing enemies with it. He'd already gotten two humans in that manner, and they were laying on the ground, bleeding out. Then the farmer stuck a Demon, and the look of surprise on the farmer's face when It didn't go down was so comical that Cas smiled briefly.

Gail choked back a sob, and Sam grabbed her hand. She gave him a grateful squeeze, but she couldn't look at him because she couldn't take her eyes off the screen. She felt so many emotions right now. First and foremost was love for her husband, of course. She was so very proud of him. It looked like Becky and Riley were extremely capable fighters now, and even though Ethan had always been competent, his skills had been taken to the next level, considering what she was seeing on the video.

But she also felt sad as she watched them all, fighting and killing. Hadn't it been just yesterday when they'd all sat around her and Cas's house enjoying a sumptuous Christmas feast, singing Let There Be Peace On Earth? Or had it been years ago? She had no idea any more.

There was a spark of hope, though, and it came in the form of those T-shirts, and the reporters, stating that similar uprisings were taking place in different parts of the globe. It appeared as though Lucifer was having to deploy more and more of his followers in order to keep up with the increasing number of human rebels. Surely he would run out of minions soon; how many more could he have?

Gail put her fingers to her lips and blew the TV a kiss. Too bad she didn't have the power to ensure that Cas felt it, at the other end.

Dean saw her do that, and his eyes misted over. He and Gail had had their dust-ups, but after they'd seen Cas on Mother's Day, Dean had taken great pains to show Gail a little more compassion. And she, in turn, had made the effort to be less combative with him. Fighting with Dean was almost like fighting with herself. They both missed Cas and the way things had been at Christmastime so much that it made no sense for them to fight.

"Hey, boss. How about I buy you a drink?" Dean said to her now. "Just one, to celebrate. It's not every day your brother and your husband are both on TV."

The video had ended, so Gail turned to look at him. "Jealous, Dean?" she joked, and he grinned. "Well, I am better-looking than those bozos," Dean said, smirking. "So, what do you say, Gail? One shot each?"

Gail thought for a moment, then she shrugged. What the hell. "Sure, Dean. Line 'em up. Mrs. Bozo is thirsty."

As a rejoinder, it was decidedly lame, but they all laughed as if it was the funniest thing they'd heard in a long time, because of course, it was.

They all downed their shots when they came, with a lively toast of "Screw you, Lucifer!" And when they left the bar, one additional shot later, they were linked arm-in-arm, still grinning.

VIGNETTE - UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT

Lucifer was enraged. He had popped over to Madison, Wisconsin, to check in with Jason. When the Demon that had inhabited Keith's vessel had come back to the compound and informed Lucifer that he hadn't seen Jason in months, his boss was irate. He knew that Jason liked to flit around the Earth, treating the human race like his own personal buffet, and that was fine, as long as he remembered who the Alpha of the Alphas was. Clearly, Jason had forgotten, or he'd thought that Lucifer wouldn't find out.

In any case, Lucifer was pissed. He'd found out about the campaign, and the T-shirts, too. A few returnees had filled him in on what was happening out there in the field. One of the Demons that Cas had nearly killed related the account of the farmers joining Cas's Angelic Squad. He'd thought it was pretty funny, until the guy with the pitchfork had skewered him. That wouldn't have killed him, of course, but it was enough to hold him in place until Castiel came along and slashed the crap out of him. Then, he'd smoked out, in order to be able to survive.

Then, another Demon who had been attacked by Matt reported to Lucifer that there were T-shirts he'd seen people wearing with Frank's and Matt's pictures on them, giving Lucifer both barrels.

Lucifer was astonished. Who the hell did those guys think they were? What about the bounty on everyone's heads? "Well, I want you to go back there and tell Jason to rip all their throats out. And he can start with Gail's brother."

But that was when the Demon had advised that Jason wasn't with the group, and he hadn't been since nearly the very beginning of the campaign. And he had also said that the numbers of their kills were diminishing significantly. Not only were the human sacrifices way down, but more and more of their own number were being killed, meaning that they'd been having to replenish the squads at an ever=increasing rate. And not all of the Demons were coming back to Lucifer for reassignment, either. An increasing number were going back to Crowley, as were many of the humans that were dying in battle. If they didn't do something soon, the momentum might shift to Castiel's side.

Lucifer was fuming. He'd sent six Demons and four humans to Michigan, but Frank's core group now had twenty-five members, and the numbers of the opposition were increasing in other parts of the world, as well. At last report, Gail's group had a couple dozen, and Castiel had an entire flock of dirt-poor Africans following him around like he was Moses in the freaking desert, or something. If things were allowed to continue on this way, Lucifer was about two or three battles away from having to write his concession speech.

He was pacing back and forth in front of his followers in Wisconsin now, sort of like a General inspecting his troops. "I need a better strategy," he was musing aloud. "Their numbers need to go down, and fast. Castiel's about two steps from making manna rain down from Heaven in Africa, Gail's leading the French Resistance in Europe, and Frank is giving me the finger, at a retailer near you."

A Demon stepped forward hesitantly. "If I might make a suggestion, Sir?"
Lucifer looked at him. "Yeah, what the hell. And you are...?"

"Rory," the Demon introduced himself. "I worked in Marketing when I was alive, and I had one of the hardest jobs in the world. We had to sell tobacco products, despite the political climate, and all those pesky health warnings. It's pretty hard to grow the bottom line when all of your existing customers are dropping dead from cancer, and your potential new customers are being taught from the cradle that smoking is disgusting, and bad for you."

"So, what's your point?" Lucifer snarled. He was in no mood for a sales seminar.

Rory continued. "My point is, that you have to fight the battles you can win. So every time one of those whiners would try to sue us, using some sob story about losing half of their bodily organs to the evils of smoking, we would put the weight of our entire legal team into our defense. Tie the case up in so much litigation that the Plaintiff was either dead, or dead broke, before the case could even see the light of day."

"You're going to be that first thing, if you don't get to the point in about two more seconds," Lucifer said menacingly. "What is your suggestion?"

"A full-scale attack on the humans, on a much larger scale," Rory replied. "I happen to know of half a dozen extremely lethal chemicals that would do an extremely fine job, and I know where they can be obtained. I know you want the Angels, but if you can kill all of their humans in large numbers, the rebellion will die a quick death."

Lucifer was impressed. "Not bad," he told Rory. "Not bad at all. Come on, let's talk."

Gail was standing at the railing of the loading dock, serving as the lookout. She hadn't argued, for once. They had a couple of dozen individuals on their team now, and most of them were big, strapping men. Now that their numbers had grown, they had "borrowed" several pickup trucks, plus a van, from a local dealership, using Sam and Dean's B&E skills. Now they were inside the munitions factory, and she was outside with an automatic weapon and a walkie-talkie. The men were loading up the trucks with guns, bullets and grenades, as quickly and quietly as they could. It was night-time, of course. Due to the nature of the products that the place manufactured, there had been armed guards posted around the perimeter of the building, but Gail had popped around and incapacitated them using the two-finger system, and then she had popped inside the building and done the same to the night guards who were there. Then Sam had disabled the alarms, both from inside and outside the building. The men had come in and formed a human chain to load the trucks. Gail had popped herself back outside to act as lookout, because the men had things well in hand. She didn't think she would be strong enough to lift those boxes anyway, and if she saw a death squad coming, she could pop into the building, transporting half a dozen men at a time.

She was lost in thought now. Ever since the Screw Lucifer movement had begun, she had been monitoring the news every day, to see what progress was being made. She was also hoping to catch a glimpse of any one of their loved ones, but most especially, she was hoping to see Cas again. Now that they were both in charge of, and ultimately responsible for, ever-growing groups of humans, they seldom had the chance to talk any more.

They had had a brief conversation a couple of days ago, though, and she was reviewing it now in her mind, over and over, as someone might take out an old photograph and study it. They never had gotten those pictures taken in Las Vegas; they hadn't had time. How she wished they had. Now, she only had his face in her imagination. Why hadn't she paid closer attention to the curves and angles of his cheeks, and jawline? Exactly which shade of blue were his eyes, anyway? How many times had she gazed into those eyes? And yet, she had no idea. How could that be? She pictured his mouth, and his lips. Was he unshaven? Probably. He'd been in some of the poorest countries in Africa, so she doubted he and his group were exactly making grooming a priority.

When they'd had their conversation, she had asked him about that.

"I'm way beyond the point of stubble, now," Cas had told her. "Actually, I have quite the beard growing. A little less than in Egypt, but a little more than I know you would like." He was trying to keep his tone light, if only for the moment. "It's much beardier than when I was the Sheikh. Wait: is that a word?"

Gail laughed, then matched his tone. "I've heard news reports that suggest you're like Moses, wandering around the desert with a robe and staff, with a flock of people trailing behind you."

Cas smiled thinly. "The reports are mainly false or exaggerated. I'm not dressed in robes, although I should be, in this kind of heat. And Moses didn't have a beard, contrary to what that movie suggested." His smile faded. "There ARE quite a few followers now, though. They're trying to call me the Saviour, or the Messiah. But I told them that I was neither, and to cut it out. They're like my sheep used to be, in the olden times. But I don't mean that in a derogatory way, Gail. I only mean that they are very simple, perhaps naive, people, who are just trying to do their best with what little they have. Yet they were willing to drop everything and join with us, to do what is right. I wonder how many millionaires or Heads of State would do the same."

There was a glum pause, and then Cas went on, "So how are things going for you? How does it feel, being a female General, in charge of all those men?"

"Pretty much the same as it does at home," she quipped. "You guys always do what I say, anyway. Now, I just have a bigger sampling."

Cas gave a short laugh, and then he said, "It's tough being responsible for all of those people, isn't it?"

Gail sighed. "It sure is. I'm not really cut out to be a leader, Cas, at least not like this. I can pretend to boss people around at the bunker, but when lives are on the line, it's very different, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," Cas agreed. "When we do get back together, we'll definitely have even more in common, going forward."

She didn't ask him how long he thought that would be; not any more. She knew better than that by now. Still, their teams were growing in number now, and the Movement was gaining momentum. But then, Cas said something that chilled her to the bone.

"I need you to be very vigilant, Gail. In the last group we encountered, one of the Demons I dispatched was taunting us about humans dying on a much grander scale. I asked him what he meant, implying that I would let him live if he told me. He went on to say that Lucifer has chemical weapons at his disposal now, and that he'd tested them out in the States. So I called Kevin, and sure enough, the bomb was released in a town due west of Frank's team's location. If they'd gotten there a little sooner, they would all be dead now. But, as it was, every person within a six-block radius of the centre of the bomb's deployment died, and horribly."

"But Frank and Jody, and Tommy and Kevin are all right, aren't they?" she asked him immediately.

"Yes, they're fine," Cas answered. "I would have told you right away if anything had happened to any one of them, Gail."

She sighed again. "I'm sorry, Cas. I know you would have. I'm just so worried all the time, about all of you."

"And I worry about everyone, too," he said. "But especially, about you. How are you, Gail, really?"

"Not so great," she answered honestly. "But, a little better, now that the momentum seems to be shifting. I have hope, for the first time in a long time. But what are we going to do about the chemical attacks?"

Cas frowned. "I've asked my team to fashion crude gas masks, just in case. But I'm not sure if that'll be good enough. From what I hear, there's a loud, booming sound right before the deadly powder is released. Hopefully, that'll be enough of a warning. We Angels have even got gas masks ready to use, if need be. I'm uncertain as to what the chemical bombs would do to our vessels, since they have the capability to kill humans. Better safe than sorry. Is there anywhere there that you can procure some gas masks?"

She smiled wryly. "Funny you should ask. We're going to be doing a midnight raid on a munitions plant soon. Sam and a few of the other guys are doing a recon over there right now, in fact. We'll have to add gas masks to the shopping list. What about Frank?"

"He told Kevin to tell me that Tommy might know of a secret military base near them that they could liberate some from," Cas had replied, and Gail had breathed a sigh of relief. Then, she and Cas had said their "I love you's" and disconnected to go and check on their respective teams.

So now, Gail was standing outside, looking right and left, but all was quiet for the moment. She risked a quick call on the walkie-talkie.

"Dean, it's me," she said quietly.

"I figured that," his voice came back. "Who else would it be? Everything OK out there?"

"First of all, yes," she replied, "and second, nobody likes a smartass. How's it coming there? Will you guys be done soon?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your wings on," he said grumpily, but she smiled, knowing he wasn't angry.

"Were you able to find any gas masks?" she asked him.

"Yeah, hold on, I'm coming," Dean said to someone off in the distance. "We could only find one box of four."

"You've got to be kidding me," Gail moaned.

"Nope. I thought it was kind of stupid, too. But we're not gonna waste time looking for any more. We've gotta get the hell out of here, before we're busted."

"OK, Dean. Gail out," she said absently, thumbing the button on her walkie to sign off. She was thinking furiously now. She had two dozen men on her squad, besides, Dean, Sam, and Bobby. Maybe she should call Kevin after this and find out if they'd had any success in getting some. And how about Cas and his people? Home-made gas masks didn't sound like they would be very effective to her. Then again, those farmers had shown themselves to be very resourceful. Who would have ever thought that they could enter into a fight with Demons armed only with pitchforks and a frying pan and emerge from the conflict unscathed? Of course, her friends and especially her husband had had a lot to do with that, too, she thought warmly.

She continued to look up and down the alleyway. They were in an industrial area in the middle of the night, and all she saw were the loading docks of other buildings, and a few dumpsters. The quiet was eerie, really. She wished those guys would hurry up.

Suddenly, there was a loud BOOM!, and Gail jumped. Then she saw streams of white powder cascading from the exhaust pipes located by the loading bays. Now, she could hear the gunfire from automatic weapons off in the distance, coming closer.

Oh, crap. Was that white powder poisonous to her? Who the hell knew? She yelled into the walkie: "Dean! You and Sam and Bobby get those gas masks on, immediately! Then, get your weapons ready! They're coming!" She yanked open the door that led into the building, then got her blade out of her pocket and spoke to it, lighting it up. She looked around wildly. She'd seen that there was a big gap underneath the door she'd just come through. Could the poisonous gas affect her? Cas had said he wasn't sure. She'd better not wait around to find out. There was another door off to her right. She tried it, and fortunately, it was unlocked, so she hurried inside. She found herself in a small supply closet. There was a jacket hanging on a hook on the back of the door, and she grabbed it and stuffed it into the crack underneath the door. There. That would have to be good enough.

She locked the door and went to the far side of the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. She turned off the walkie and extinguished the light. If the death squad came here first, she couldn't risk discovery. Lucifer had been doubling and tripling the numbers for the death squads, and there was no way she would stand a chance, even with her powers. She thought about just popping out of there, but where would she go? It was much too dangerous to just go popping around blind. That was one of the first lessons that Cas had taught her as an Angel. If she went back outside, she might be poisoned by Lucifer's lethal cocktail. Oh, God. She only hoped that her friends had put on their gas masks immediately, as she'd directed. But what about the other men in their squad, then?

Gail was an intelligent woman, but her brain just shut down at this point. She'd been out here for months, fighting and killing, constantly vigilant, terrified for her family and friends, and now she was supposed to be in charge of a group of humans who were trusting her to make the right decisions that would keep them all alive. Yet she had probably just sealed all of their death warrants by telling Dean and Sam and Bobby to don the gas masks. They'd only had the four. She should have made sure they all had gas masks before they'd come here. How could she have made such a huge mistake? She had just killed them all. And now, she was making it worse by being selfish, and praying that her own guys had survived. Wow. Crowley had better prepare an Executive Suite for her arrival.

The knob on the door rattled, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out in terror. Luckily, the lock held. Would they break the door down?

A muffled voice from the other side: "This door's locked. Should I shoot it?"

"Don't bother," another muffled voice replied. "She's probably popped her buddies out of here already. Let's go. This stupid gas mask is suffocating me. We accomplished what we set out to do. Bunch of dead humans. Let's get those black-eyed bastards to take us to the next town for some drinks, in celebration."

"Sounds good to me," the first man said, and she heard footsteps, presumably leading away. But it could be a trick. She sat there in the dark and the silence, wondering what to do now. This was starting to remind her of the time that she and Frank hid in the crawlspace of their basement, wondering if it was safe to go upstairs, the day their parents were murdered. Frank's parents, she amended to herself. Back then, Frank was the one to make the decisions. She'd been just a child. But no one was here to make the decisions for her now. She was supposed to be the leader of her squad, and she was cowering here like a frightened ten-year-old.

She thumbed the walkie on. "Dean, do you copy?" she said softly.

"Gail! Thank God! Holy crap!" he yelled back. She winced, turning the volume down. Hopefully, those guys had gone for that drink, or she'd be toast. "Where are you?" Dean asked her.

"Never mind that, where are you guys? Are you OK?" she said anxiously.

"Yeah, we're OK," he confirmed. "We put the gas masks on, and then we shot and stabbed our way out of there. But we had to bail, Gail. Our other squad members were dropping like flies, and we were so outnumbered it wasn't even funny. If they'd just had knives, we might have tried to gut it out, but they all had automatic weapons. So I shoved the other gas masks on Sam and Bobby and the nearest guy to me, and we jumped in one of the trucks and booked it out of there. I'm sorry, Gail. We had to get out of there quick, or we were all gonna die. I didn't want to leave without knowing where you were, but Bobby yelled that you were an Angel, and there wasn't time." He paused. "Thank God you're OK. Cas woulda killed me. Now, we just have to figure out where we are, so you can pop over here. That's how that works, right?"

She smiled with relief that they were all right. "Yes, that's how that works, Dean."

Dean asked Sam, who advised the name of the next town where they were, and the cross streets. "Did you get that?" he asked Gail.

She told him she did, but when she tried to wink out of there, she couldn't. Then she tried again. Nope. No way. "Dean, there's something wrong," she told him. "I can't do it." She tried once more. Still nothing.

"Well, we'll just have to come back for you, then," Dean said. "Where are you?"

"NO!" she shouted, alarmed. Then she lowered her voice: "No, you can't, Dean. It's probably still toxic outside, and we don't know where those guys are, either. They said there were a whole bunch of dead humans here. You just stay put."

They were silent for a moment. What the hell were they going to do now? She couldn't come there, and they couldn't come here. And she didn't dare try to walk out of here under her own, not without knowing for sure where the death squad was, or whether all the white powder she'd seen would damage her.

"Tell you what," Dean said brightly. "I'll call Tommy on the cell phone he's not supposed to have, on the cell phone that I'm not supposed to have. Then, he can get Kevin to call Cas on your guys's Radio, and see if he can come and get you. How would you like that?"

She thought about that for a moment. Would she be a big baby if she admitted to Dean that she was scared, and she really wanted Cas to come? No, forget that: she needed Cas to come. "OK, Dean," she said, giving in. "But please tell him to come where you are first, and borrow one of your gas masks. He says they've got some kind of home-made ones over there, but I don't trust that."

Dean flashed a brief smile. "OK, Gail. Sit tight. Help is on the way."

Cas popped over to where the Winchesters and Bobby and Nathan were. Nathan was the guy that Dean had grabbed. He'd simply had the good fortune to have been standing next to Dean on the line when all hell had broken loose. Cas looked at Dean warily, and then he shrugged. Who were they kidding? The time for hiding the fact that some of them were Angels had long passed. This was wartime.

"What happened, Dean?" Cas asked his friend anxiously. "Where is she?"

"Didn't Kevin tell you?" Dean said.

"No, he just told me to come here immediately, that Gail was trapped somewhere. Where is she, Dean?" Cas repeated, agitated.

Before anyone could say anything else, Nathan yelled, "Black eyes!" He pointed behind Cas, and Cas whirled around. Then he relaxed.

"How is everybody? OK?" Paul said.

"Yeah, we're OK, Paul," Sam confirmed.

"Where's my little Boo?" Paul asked them, looking around.

"Your - " Cas started to say, and then he realized that Paul was talking about Gail. He frowned slightly. "She's back in the town they just left," he said, indicating the four humans. "I was just going to get her."

"I'll go with," Paul advised Cas.

"Why?" Cas said.

Paul sighed. He'd known Castiel wouldn't be too happy. "Because I'm not sure if my squad have all cleared out yet. Then we need to have a talk."

"What the hell?!" Nathan exclaimed. "Why are you being so friendly with this guy? Isn't he a Demon? Black eyes!"

"Oh, thank God," Sam quipped. "I thought you said 'black guy'. I thought we were going to have to kick you off our team for being a racist."

Dean did a double-take, and then he grinned. That was the best joke he'd heard Sam make in a long, long time. It was really a shame that neither Frank nor Gail had been here to hear it.

Paul had, though, and he shook his head, smirking. "You flannel-shirted bastards," he said. "I've missed you." He looked at Cas. "I even missed you, Castiel. That's one hell of a beard you've got going, by the way. Come on, now. We've gotta go get our girl."

Cas frowned again, but he allowed Paul to take his arm, and they winked out.

The Angel and the Demon appeared on the loading dock. Gail had described where she was now in relation to where Dean knew she had been.

Neither of the men wore a gas mask. Paul had advised Cas that the toxic gas had no adverse effect on otherworldly beings. Apparently, Lucifer's numbers were becoming so depleted that he'd been worried about his Demons being harmed by the chemicals, so when the Devil's evil scientist had put together the formula for the first bomb, Lucifer had tested it out on a couple of Demons, as well as a couple of hapless humans, and discovered that it hadn't seemed to bother the Demons.

So that was something, anyway. Unfortunately, that didn't help the couple of dozen dead guys who were strewn around the floor in the factory by the open bay doors, Paul said.

Cas yanked the door open, and he and Paul stood regarding the door to the supply closet. "Sigil, and a powerful one, too," Cas remarked, squinting at the symbol that was drawn on the door there. He closed his eyes and tried to wink himself inside, but he couldn't do it. Lucifer must have given this symbol to his teams to use in case they were able to trap one of the Angels with it. He theorized this to Paul now, and Paul agreed. Obviously, most of the men who had gone out on Lucifer's behalf had been too stupid or uneducated to realize what a powerful symbol he'd given to them. It was unclear what they'd hoped to accomplish by painting it here. From what Cas had understood, the men hadn't even known that Gail was in there. Thank God.

Or was she? Cas banged on the door. "Gail? Are you in there?"

"Yes, I am, Cas," she replied.

"I can't come in; there's a very powerful sigil on the door," Cas told her.

So THAT was why she hadn't been able to wink herself out, Gail thought. In a way, she was relieved. At least there was a logical explanation.

"I'll come in and get you," Paul said. "The sigil is for Angels only." He glanced at Cas, then winked himself inside the supply room.

"Paul!" Gail exclaimed. She strode up to him and Paul started to smile, thinking that she was going to embrace him. But instead, she hit him in the chest, with both hands.

"Where have you been?!" she shouted. "They killed the crap out of my men! Why didn't you do something?"

Paul looked down at her calmly. He'd thought this might be her reaction. "OK, let me just get you out of here, and then, both you and Castiel can give it to me at once. I'm not having this same fight twice."

He tried to wink her out of the closet, but only Paul showed up where Cas was standing outside, waiting anxiously. "Wow, that symbol really means business," Paul said softly. Then he smirked. "We're all about to feel really stupid, here," Paul added. "You know you've been an otherworldly being too long when...maybe Jeff Foxworthy whould write a book about THAT."

"What are you babbling about?" Castiel asked him angrily. "We need to get her out of there!"

Paul leaned forward to speak through the door. "Tell you what, Gail. Why don't you just unlock the door, and walk on out?"

She shook her head slowly. She DID feel stupid, now. Sigils were designed to prevent Angels from using their powers. That was why neither she nor Cas had been able to pop in or out. But then, why couldn't she just walk out of here, the human way?

But as she approached the door, she stopped short. "Wait...what about the toxic gas?" she asked them.

"It only affects humans," Cas said through the door. "Please come out, Gail. I need to make sure you're all right."

That did it for her. She swept the jacket away from the door with her foot, unlocked the door, and threw it open. Her eyes lit up when she saw Cas, and she launched herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling the first genuine smile he'd felt on his face for far too long.

Cas came out of the embrace, studying her face. "Are you all right? Are you sure?" he asked her.

She let out a frustrated breath. No, she wasn't all right. Of course she wasn't all right. "How are Sam and Dean and Bobby?" she countered.

"They're fine, thanks to you," he told her. "Thanks to your warning, they were able to get out in time."

"And the others?" she asked him. But she already knew, and her fears were confirmed when Cas shook his head. Gail's heart sank, and tears sprang to her eyes. But she didn't want to cry now.

"I've gotta get back in a minute," Paul said nervously. "Lucifer already found out that Jason isn't with his group. All I need is for him to find out I'm not with mine. Let's go back to where those guys are. We'll talk for a minute, and then I'm gonna have to go."

They winked Gail to where the remnants of her squad were. Dean grabbed Gail away from Cas and hugged her fiercely. "I'm sorry, Gail," he said in a quiet voice. The guilt for leaving her behind had been burning in him.

"Listen, you can have your reunion in a minute, but I don't have much time to tell you what I've got to tell you," Paul said to the group. "Lucifer's numbers were dropping. That's why he had to come up with this way of killing more humans all at once. He knows about the T-shirt campaign, and he's really pissed about it." Paul grinned at Gail. "You'll have to congratulate your brother for that, Boo. That was a stroke of genius. Not to mention being funny as hell. Even some of my squad were laughing about it. Anyway, the object is to intimidate and demoralize the humans, to stop them from joining you. If he can get it down to manageable numbers again, the momentum will shift back his way."

"Aren't the ones that are smoking out just going back to him?" Bobby asked, frowning at Paul. It was so weird to be talking to this guy like an ally. Bobby remembered the brief battle he'd had with Paul when the latter had been in Lucifer's service. Bobby'd been an Angel at the time, but he'd been able to use his powers to knock Paul around a little, despite the fact that the place was covered in sigils. Curious. He'd meant to have that conversation with Cas, but there had been so much going on that he kept forgetting. And now, the point had been rendered moot.

Paul was shaking his head. "But that's just it. For every one he gets back, two or three are going back to Crowley. Word's spreading that the King is welcoming guys back with open arms. No punishments for the ones who defected to Lucifer in the first place. Lucifer's nuts. If we thought he was bad before, he's five times worse, now. He's liable to do anything."

"And what are you doing about it?" Gail said angrily. "You're supposed to be our ally, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," Paul agreed. "But I'm much more valuable to you if Lucifer thinks I'm still on his side. The minute I show him my hand, I'll be done, and so will any chance you have to get any inside information. Don't worry, little lady, I've been watching all of you. I'll give a hand when I can."

Gail glared at him. She knew he'd called her that on purpose. That had been Henri's nickname for her. Usually, she wouldn't have minded, but this time, she lost it. "Yeah?" she retorted. "Well, say hi to your friend Lucifer for me. Tell him I've got an Angel blade with his name on it." Then she stalked away from the group.

Cas was looking at Paul calmly. He was a seasoned veteran when it came to war, so Castiel realized that what Paul was saying was true. Paul was much more valuable to them as a double agent. "Have you got anything more to tell us, Paul?" Castiel asked him.

"No, Castiel," the Demon replied. "But I'll keep an eye out." He nodded over towards Gail, who was sitting on a park bench, away from where the men were standing. "Tell the missus I get it. I'll try to watch out for her as best I can. Oh, and Castiel? You can lead as many of my people around Africa as you want, but just make sure you don't put 'em on a boat to America. That's how all the trouble started in the first place." He smirked at his own joke, then tipped a small salute to the other men. And then, he was gone.

Cas walked over to where Gail was sitting. She was crying silently. He took her in his arms without a word, and she clung to him. "I can't do this anymore, Cas," she said, starting to sob. "I was so scared back there. I need you here, with me. Please don't go away again. Stay here with me. Please."

Cas's heart was breaking. She had been so brave for so long. And now, just when they'd thought that they were turning the tide, Gail's team had been wiped out. He understood the weight of the guilt she was feeling, and he also knew that it would do no good at the moment to tell her that those mens' deaths were not her fault. She wouldn't be ready to hear that right now. If the roles had been reversed, he wouldn't have wanted to hear it, either. But he didn't have the heart to tell her that he couldn't stay here with her. It was taking everything he had not to acquiesce, though. Just look at her. She needed him. He was a monster.

"Shhh," Cas said to his wife. "Shhhh. Don't cry. Of course I'll stay here with you."

Her body stiffened, and she pulled out of the embrace. "You will?" she said, sniffling.

"Yes, of course I will," Cas said softly, kissing her on the forehead. "You're my wife. I place you above all others."

As he had hoped, she frowned when he said that. They'd had this discussion before, and obviously, she remembered. "That was a rotten thing to say to me," Gail remarked, making a face. "Fine. Go back to Africa, then, and be Moses. See if I care."

He gave her a squeeze. "You don't mean that, my love. You care a great deal. I know you do."

Gail sighed. "What do you want from me, Cas?"

"I want what I've always wanted," he said in a quiet voice. "Your love. That's all I need."

"I'd aim higher, if I were you," she said wryly. "Aren't you, like, the new Jesus, or something?"

Cas smiled. Now she was trying to be humourous, and he appreciated the effort she was going to, considering how low he knew she was feeling. "Well, I don't know about that, exactly. But the locals have taken to calling me "Yissa'Yah', which loosely translates into 'Messiah'. It literally means 'he who comes in the name of Yah', Yah being our Father. So I guess I couldn't really argue with them there." Gail took his hand, and Cas's smile grew warmer. "I asked them not to call me Messiah, but they're doing it anyway, Gail. I guess I'm not helping my own cause any, though. I've given them some rain for their crops, and I've been healing their injuries." He leaned closer to her. "Some of them have taken pictures of me, and they have hung those pictures in their homes."

Gail burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. He was just too cute. A few minutes ago, she had been in a pit of despair, and now he had her laughing. Maybe he WAS Jesus. "Have you told the guys that?" she asked him, still smiling.

"I didn't see the need for them to know that," Cas said, looking innocent.

"You are the cutest person I have ever met," Gail said, touching his face. "No wonder they worship you. So do I."

"Don't say that, Gail," he said miserably. He put his hand on top of hers and held it there. "Just love me, please. That's all I want."

"Done, and done," she said pertly. "Though truthfully, I'm not really sold on the beard."

"Then I'll shave it off, immediately," he said quickly.

Gail shook her head. "No, leave it. You're already handsome enough. If you shave, they'll be opening up churches in your name." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Whoops, that was probably a little blasphemous, considering."

Cas reached out and removed her hand from her mouth. "Maybe so, but it was also funny," he said to her. Then he kissed her on the lips. "I can't say when, but I promise you that this will end, my love," he told her. "And then, I will spend the rest of my existence trying to make it up to you, for the time we've had to be apart now."

"No, we're going to spend the rest of our existence forgetting that any of this ever happened," she said. Then she sighed. "Now, go. They need you there." And I need you here, she thought. But she didn't say that, of course. She'd had her little breakdown, and he had reminded her as gently as possible that she had taken him to task about putting her and her needs above everyone else's. So, this was what they meant when they used the expression about putting your money where your mouth was. She should have just kept her stupid yap shut in the first place.

Cas and Gail walked back to her group, hand in hand. Cas told the men he would check in as soon as he could, and then he popped out.

Gail sighed. "Let's go, you guys." They piled into the truck and headed to the next town.