Chapter 2 - As Long As He Needs Me

Crowley sat down behind his desk, letting out a long breath. He looked at the decanter. He poured himself another, but there wasn't enough alcohol in the known universe for the way he was feeling right now.

Earlier that day, he had been summoned to the crossroads by a very powerful spell. Normally, he wouldn't have attended personally without knowing who was on the other side of that spell. But he was bored, and he was curious. There were very few individuals who were that powerful, and who would have used such an ancient invocation. It was way above Moose and Squirrel's academic level, Castiel was dead, and if God the Father wanted to thump Crowley on the head, He would just simply bust his office door down, as he'd done before.

"I want the Codex back," Raguel said without preliminary when Crowley surfaced.

Crowley eyed him balefully. Now he wished he hadn't come. Boy, did he hate this guy. He'd almost rather deal with Castiel. It was funny, though; both men had this bad habit of talking to the King as if he were their underling.

"I believe the customary greeting is 'Good morning'," Crowley said coolly, "and in my case, it's usually followed with 'Your Majesty'."

Raguel let out a breath. "Fine. Good morning," he said, tight-lipped.

"I thought you were going to bring me the codices, so that I could translate them for you," Crowley said, playing innocent. "Did you not kill Castiel? Excellent job, by the way, although my mother still lives."

"The opportunity presented itself," Raguel said, shrugging.

"So, tell me: how did you manage to kill God?" Crowley asked the Archangel, continuing the ruse.

"I will tell you that it was very difficult," Raguel boasted. "But, I am an Archangel of the Lord God. I can do many things that ordinary beings cannot."

"I'm sure you can, but you're a terrible liar," Crowley said bluntly. "You did not kill Castiel. Plus, my mother is still alive, as I have already pointed out. Therefore, you get nothing."

"What do you mean?" Raguel raged. "We had a deal!"

"A deal is a two-way street," Crowley pointed out. "I repeat, you did not kill Castiel. He killed himself, because you got chesty and tried to compel him to kill his wife. I could have told you what the outcome of that little scenario would be. Now you have nullified your own deal."

"How do YOU know what happened?" Raguel asked the King suspiciously. "You weren't there."

"Castiel's little wife is a guest of mine. That's how," Crowley retorted.

"God's wife is in Hell," Raguel said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Crowley shrugged. "Believe what you want, but it's true. But I fail to see where that's any concern of yours. By the time I get through with her, she will be of no threat to you."

Raguel's eyes narrowed. "I knew you hated Castiel, but I did not know that you felt the same way about your sister."

"In-law," Crowley corrected him automatically. "Sister-in-law. Although I suppose that doesn't technically apply any more. In any event, what I do to her in my own Kingdom is none of your business. You and I are done, unless you can come up with another service that you can actually perform for me."

"I offered to kill your mother, did I not?" Raguel said.

"Then where is her corpse?" Crowley asked him.

"I will locate her, and then I will kill her, I swear to you," Raguel said fervently. And he meant it, too. He had a score to settle, and codices to retrieve.

"You will locate her? You mean she's not with you?" Crowley peered closely at Raguel's agitated expression, and then the light dawned. "She stole the codices, didn't she?" he said, shaking his head slowly.

"Yes," Raguel said, through clenched teeth.

Almost despite himself, Crowley barked out a laugh. Raguel looked at him, shocked. The King of Hell, laughing? Had Armageddon begun, after all? But this reaction of his angered Raguel even more, and he was further enraged when Crowley said, "You Archangels think you are so superior. Yet here you stand like a fool, with no Codex and no codices, ordering me around like I'm your underling. You couldn't even kill Castiel, contrary to your lofty promises. You're not an Archangel, you're a joke."

"As if you are any better," Raguel shot back. "I am trying to create a new and better existence, a Paradise that will be devoid of vermin like you. Your mother told me all about you, 'Fergus'. You are the joke. You are a tin pot dictator, an ineffectual leader whose subjects rebel behind your back. Your own family all hate you. And it is no wonder, seeing as how you treat them. I knew that you were a repugnant individual, but to torture your own sister, for no good reason? You - "

" - Sister-in-law," Crowley corrected the Archangel again, annoyed. What was the point of this diatribe? And why was he even standing here listening to it? Was he THAT bored?

Raguel started to smile, that slow, creepy smile which all but disfigured his face. Crowley was quite right. Raguel had come here with the faint hope that he could bluff the King into returning the Codex to him. But Raguel had nothing to bring to the bargaining table now, and they both knew it. But that didn't mean that he couldn't leave Crowley with a very special parting gift.

The Archangel waved his hand, and Crowley came to him. The King's guard had been down, so he hadn't had the chance to react. He raised his hand to defend himself now, but once he got close to Raguel, the Archangel merely put two of his fingers on Crowley's forehead. "Let me show you what the real joke is," he said to the King.

Raguel showed Crowley everything that had happened after Rowena had decided not to go to the Solstice celebration, and then the true events subsequent to that, when Rowena had given birth to twins, and the man in the shadows had taken the girl away. But not before her mother had named her: Priscilla.

No. No way. Raguel was attempting to modify his mind. Crowley threw a wall up in his mind to block what Raguel was showing him, almost as a fighter would block a punch. But then, projected on the wall, Crowley could see the interior of a pub, and a bedraggled young woman, sitting by the fire. He could see himself buying her a drink and a meal, and taking her to his home. Then he could see her with John Alden, telling Fergus that the two of them were sailing to the New World. That woman had more aliases then one of Charles Manson's followers, but her devotion to her blue-eyed husband was no less fanatical. Priscilla Alden, aka Guinevere, aka Nicki, aka Gail.

Crowley staggered back from Raguel. "You're making this up," he said in a shocked tone.

"Actually, I am not," Raguel said calmly. "Ask your mother, if you do not believe what I have just shown you. She didn't know about it until just recently, but she does now. Or ask your father, the High Priest. I imagine that he still roams the Earth. Creatures like him and your mother and even yourself tend to see to their own survival, above all else. Perhaps your sister is the same way, seeing as she comes from the same lineage."

Then Crowley had snapped his fingers and disappeared from the crossroads, because for the first time in ages, he'd had no retort to offer. Now he sat in his office after having sent Gail back to Earth, drinking glass after glass of scotch, trying to work out how he felt now.

Gail was his sister. The girl he had kidnapped and nearly converted, until she'd decided she liked the taste of Angel food cake better. The dewy-eyed damsel who the Winchesters, Castiel, and Lucifer had all combined to turn into a warrior queen, capable of getting the jump on Demon guards and Torture Masters. The woman he'd had a love-hate relationship with over the centuries...All right, to be fair, it was probably more like hate-hate from her perspective, although the two of them had had their moments. Crowley had tried to groom her, seduce her, make her suffer, befriend her, torture her, and kill her, and none of those things had even slowed her down. She was infuriating; a pint-sized pain in his trousers that he couldn't subjugate, nor could he seem to shake.

Gail was Crowley's sister. When he'd gotten back to Hell from his meeting with Raguel, he'd received reports of screaming coming from the corridor that led to the coal room, and he'd known instantly. She had finally gotten a hold of one of his minions to whom the King had given a cell phone, and she had contacted her people. Crowley knew how clever she and Moose were, and he'd imagined that Frank would be around the bunker to help out, too. Frank had toiled for Crowley in the coal room after he'd been busted down from a Knight, and of course, the Angels now had Paul on their side also, who was one of the remaining few who'd known about the hidden Portal. So, as an individual who was already at least several moves ahead on the chessboard, Crowley had popped over to the coal room, waiting for her, and she had not disappointed him.

As soon as he'd laid eyes on her on the heels of this newfound information, Crowley had felt the surge of several feelings at once. He'd felt a sense of pride at what a fierce fighter she had become. Certainly, she'd had a little divine help when she had been strapped to the table in the Torture Room, but everything else that she had accomplished here, she had done herself. Many of the Demons he had in his employ, even those higher up in his organization, could not have done any better.

He had mixed feelings about this whole thing. Castiel was his brother, from way back at the time of the Beginning. They'd had bad blood between them since then and, even though Crowley admitted that he had fired the first shot across the bow, there had been plenty of animosity on both sides ever since. Gail hadn't come into the mix until centuries later, but when she had, the three of them had been locked up in the world's most dysfunctional dance ever since. Gail was Crowley's sister, but he'd had designs on her for aeons. How messed up was that? Oh, well. As the King of Hell, Crowley had certainly seen worse. It wasn't as if he'd known she was his sister all that time, and still pursued her.

This explained a lot, though. It explained why Gail was one of the least Angelic Angels Crowley had ever met. That was probably one reason they had been able to get along so well at times. She drank, she had a razor-sharp tongue, and it was clear that she loved the pleasures of the flesh, because she certainly led Castiel around by his dangly bits. Crowley had often marveled at how such a woman had been able to come up on the Righteous side of things, more often than not. He had to grudgingly admit that her and Castiel's love was genuine, though. It had to be; there was no way it could have sustained all this time if it had not been.

Which brought Crowley round to how he truly felt about his brother's demise. He had mixed feelings about that, too. A large part of him had felt like dancing a jig when he'd felt Castiel's essence leave his vessel. Had Raguel actually been able to take the great warrior down? But then, when Crowley'd found out what had actually happened on that field, things had gotten a little more complicated. In his view, Raguel had not accomplished anything to boast about. He had simply taken one of Father's toys and watched as the ring did what it was destined to do. Then, Castiel had done what he'd had to do, falling on his own Angel blade rather than kill his own wife. There had been no epic battle. It was like getting to the end of a ripping good book only to find a "to be continued...". Because Crowley had no doubt now that Castiel would be back. Absolutely none.

But that hadn't stopped the King from taking his frustrations out on Gail, once she'd landed in his domain. He would never admit so even under point of torture in his own dungeon, but a large part of Crowley had blamed her for so many things that Crowley was unable to do anything about. So he'd lashed out, projecting his own unresolved feelings about Castiel onto her simply because she was at hand.

But then, a funny thing happened. As Gail survived challenge after challenge, Crowley began to root for her, subconsciously at first, and then more openly. It was almost like rooting for Eddie The Eagle at the Olympics. That was why he had given those cell phones to a few of his minions. If she could earn her way to the Portal, he would consider striking up a deal with her.

She had indeed accomplished the task, and when the King saw her face once he'd confronted her outside the coal room, he'd known he had to let her go. But he wasn't going to do so for free, either, because that was not his way.

So Crowley had lied to Gail. The Portal didn't lead to an agonizing death at all. He'd just said that so she would feel like she had no choice but to take his deal. Crowley was thinking ten steps ahead on that board, as usual. Just because he'd felt this damnable tug of sentiment for his sister, that didn't mean that she would feel the same way about him, if and when she ever found out about their true relationship. He hadn't even begun to consider THAT yet. But Crowley's priority had always been Crowley, and he'd had to make sure that he wasn't having to fend off numerous assassination attempts from all of the men in his sister's life. Also, he'd been thinking about those codices. Raguel and Rowena had obviously had a parting of the ways, and Mummy Dearest was far too slippery for Crowley to approach directly. It was much too risky to attempt, for if she had those codices, she might just be apt to burn them first, rather than let her son get hold of them. But Gail might be able to use some of her considerable wiles to obtain the documents and deliver them to the King. Her husband wouldn't like it, but that was just too bad, wasn't it? Crowley was one hundred percent certain that Gail was now going to set her laser focus on getting Castiel back somehow, and he was also one hundred percent certain that she would achieve her goal. The chances were excellent that Crowley had just royally screwed himself by letting her go. When Castiel came back, once he and his little wife had climbed out of their loving bed of reunion, Crowley's brother was going to be looking for the blood in the water. The only consolation Crowley had was that it was probably going to be Raguel that he would go looking for first.

Crowley poured another drink, wondering how his sister was faring at the bunker.

It was pouring rain when she'd landed, appearing suddenly in back of the bunker. After a moment's disorientation, Gail imagined with grim humour that if someone had been sitting in one of the lawn chairs, she would have scared the crap out of them. She also took a second to wonder why he couldn't have at least tucked her under the overhang. Great. He'd terrorized her, tried to torture her, and set her on the run for her life, and now, she was going to die of pneumonia.

She ran towards the bunker to seek shelter, and in her haste, she tripped over the stone marker that Dean had put in the ground to mark Cas's grave. "Ow!" Gail exclaimed, sweeping her soaking wet hair away from her face to see what she had tripped on. She looked down at the two graves, side by side, and she felt a pain in her heart that was so acute she nearly fell to her knees. But she couldn't afford to indulge herself in grief right now. She had a job to do, and she had to keep moving.

"I'll be back for you in a bit, sweetie," Gail said, bending over to touch the stone marker. Then she ran towards the bunker door.

She pounded on the steel door, hoping someone would hear. She was human now, so she couldn't just pop in any more, and she no longer had access to Angel Radio. Crap. This was going to take some getting used to. She pounded again, hurting her hand. Ow. Stupid steel door. In addition to the gag gifts she had already put in the closet for the Winchesters, she and Cas were going to have to get them a doorbell for Christmas. She wondered if you could get them custom-made. Which pop song would drive Dean the most crazy?

On the heels of that thought, Dean suddenly yanked the door open, holding a Demon knife in one hand and a vial of Holy water in the other.

Gail sighed. "Do what you have to do, Dean. I guess the consolation is, I can't get any wetter."

He splashed the Holy water on her, and she sputtered. "You can cut me with that blade if you have to," she told him, wiping the Holy water from her face with her hand, "but if you do, I hope there's an Angel here to heal it. Crowley turned me human, and all I can think of right now is peeing. I think I owe Bobby a big, fat apology."

Dean took her in his arms and held her. She clung to him for a moment, sniffling. Then she broke the embrace. "Let's get inside," she said to him. "I wasn't kidding about that pee. And then, we have some work to do before we can bring Cas back."

She rushed past him and down the stairs as Dean frowned. Aw, geez. Chuck had been right. He closed and locked the door behind them, pocketing the knife.

Gail hurried down the flight of stairs, past her astonished family and friends. Frank reached out his arms to her. "Hold that thought," she told her brother. "Gotta pee. Dean will explain."

She rushed down the hallway to the bathroom, relieved herself for what felt like about an hour, and then washed her hands, using the hand towel to dry her face and her hair. She looked down at her wet clothes, shivering with a chill. She loved the feeling of being cool, but this was ridiculous. But, wait a minute.

She went across the hall to her and Cas's old room. Had she left any clothes here? She couldn't remember. She opened the closet and was transfixed by the sight of Cas's shirts and pants hanging there. She'd forgotten that he had kept some clothes here, too. She ran her hand lightly over them, feeling that sharp pain again.

"How're you doing, kiddo?" Frank said from behind her, and she turned around to look at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Her brother came forward and hugged her to him. "I thought I'd lost you," he said softly. "Please don't ever do that to me again."

Gail pulled out of the embrace, looking at the water stains her wet clothes and tears had left on her brother's clothes. "Sorry about that," she said, sniffling the tears back. "Just let me get dried off, and I'll be right with you guys. We need to talk."

Frank leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "OK, Gail. OK. Whatever you say," he told her. Then he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Gail turned back towards the closet, looking at Cas's clothes again. "Whatever I say?" she said to them, smiling a little. "Since when? Maybe I should go to Hell more often. It's not like he hasn't told me to go there before." She took a pair of her pants off the hanger, then reached for one of her tops. But then she hesitated. She looked back at Cas's clothes again. She took one of his shirts off its hanger and held it to her face, smelling it. "Paco Rabanne," she said softly into the shirt. "You wear it because that's what you wore on our first date. You wear it because you know I like it. Well, until you come back to me, that's what I'm going to wear, too. Hang on, sweetie. It won't be long."

Gail walked out to the library area wearing her own pants, and Cas's shirt. It was way too big on her, of course. She'd rolled up the sleeves, but she let the shirt hang down to her knees. Who cared?

Her friends and family all exchanged nervous glances, but no one said anything. Sam came forward now, taking her hand. "Dean told us you're human now," he said to her. He was working his jaw, willing himself not to break down. Sam was over the moon to have Gail back, but the sight of her in Cas's shirt was almost too much to bear. Sam cleared his throat. "Would you like something to eat?" he asked her.

Gail considered that, but then she shook her head. "Not right now, Sam," she told him. "But you know what I WOULD love? A nice, fresh cup of coffee."

"I'll make a pot," he offered, but she clung on to his hand. "No. I need you with me," she said.

"I'll do it," Rob said. He looked at Gail with a warm smile. "It's great to see you back."

"Thanks," she said to the youth. Gail looked around the table. Dean, Frank, Jody, Bobby, Chuck, and Paul. Bobby was bouncing baby Angela on his knee, stealing glances at Gail. "Just a minute," she said to Sam. "Stay right there."

Gail walked over to where Bobby was sitting and leaned down, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. "It's OK, Bobby," she said. "It's not your fault. It was mine. I made a mistake." She was alarmed to see that he was on the verge of tears. Jody reached down and took the baby from Bobby, and he took Gail's hand. "I'm so sorry, dear," he said to her, his voice gruff with emotion. "How bad was it?"

She considered telling him for a moment, but what would be the point of that? It was over. So she shrugged. "Let's just say that Crowley's off the Christmas list this year." Then she raised her eyes to look at Paul. "Thanks for the great directions, by the way." He nodded his head in acknowledgement. "It's good to have you back, Boo," Paul said. "Everybody on the Board is anxious to see you. Liz, too. And Gabriel has been wandering the halls like some kinda ghost, or something. I think he was afraid to come here."

She smiled faintly. "That's OK; we'll sort all that out. I'm going to need him, eventually. But I'm human right now, so I'll have to depend on you guys for your help, until we get Cas back."

The nervous glances were exchanged again, and Gail picked up on it this time. "Ohhhh," she said, nodding slowly. "You guys think I'm crazy."

"No, not crazy," Chuck said uncomfortably. "You just want him back so badly that you're having trouble accepting the reality, that's all. We've been through this together before, remember? I can help you, Gail."

"He's not a 'him', he's Cas," she shot back angrily. "And this is totally different, Chuck. This time, I have a plan." She walked back around the table and grabbed Sam's hand, pulling him towards the bookshelves. "We'll get the book, and then we'll have one of the Angels pop us over to your buddy's store to get the ingredients," Gail said to him excitedly. "Then, when we've got everything else, I'll have Gabriel send me back, and I'll get the blood from Cain and Abel. Then - "

"Stop," Sam said firmly. "Just...stop."

She looked up at him. "What? Why?"

"You can't use the revival spell on Cas," Sam told her matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" she said, making a face. "Of course I can! It worked on Dean!"

"Dean was a human," Sam pointed out.

"So what?" Gail retorted. "Rowena revived Crowley using that spell, and he's about as far from human as you can get. In more ways than one," she added dryly.

"Rowena had Fergus's bones, and we had Dean's body," Sam peristed. He hated like hell to do this, but they couldn't let her delude herself this way. To give her false hope would be even more cruel. "But that's not Cas's body out there," Sam said, gesturing to the bunker door. "It's Jimmy Novak's. We don't have Cas's bones, Gail."

She froze. Oh, God. Holy God. He was right. For a second, Gail was lost. Absolutely lost. If they didn't have Cas's bones, they were missing the main ingredient of the spell. And if they didn't have the most important ingredient of the spell...

Gail shook that off. No. Nope. There was no way she was going to finish that sentence, not even in her mind.

"We'll figure something out," she said stubbornly. "Let's get the book and study it. Come on." She took Sam's hand again and tugged him towards the place on the shelf where they had filed Rowena's spell book, and -

It wasn't there.

Gail looked up at Sam. "Where did you put it?"

"I didn't put it anywhere," Sam said. "It should be there." He looked where the book was supposed to be filed, and sure enough, there was a gap where the spell book was supposed to be. He reached into the gap. Maybe the book had just been pushed in a little. Nope.

Gail started pulling the surrounding books off the shelf, looking at them. "Did you guys do anything with it recently?" she asked him.

"No," Sam said, puzzled. He started pulling books out too, looking at them and then putting them aside. "Dean!" he called out. "Did you - ?"

"No," Dean said, poking his head around the corner of the bookshelves where the two of them were standing. They both looked up. "We can hear you, you know," Dean pointed out.

Gail started to panic. Bones or no bones, she needed that spell book. That was her plan: the revival spell. That was all she had left. She started pulling books off of the shelves and throwing them on the floor. "Dammit, Sam!" she exclaimed. "When I find that stupid thing, we're locking it up in the safe! It's way too valuable to be sitting out here, out in the open, where anybody can just - " She started to cry. "It's here somewhere. It's gotta be here." She swept all of the books from where she was standing off the shelves and onto the floor, and then she sank down among them, looking at them. But she could see that it wasn't there. She just didn't know what else to do at this point.

"We'll all help you look," Sam said gently. Dean looked at him angrily, but Sam gestured to his brother. Gail had just gotten back here from Hell, They both knew what that was like. It did things to you. He didn't have the heart to hammer at her about the futility of the spell any more. Once the book was found and she calmed down, they could have a good, long talk.

Everyone started checking the bookshelves, shelf by shelf, book by book. But they finally had to acknowledge that the spell book was gone.

Becky rushed home after the photo shoot, throwing her coat and keys on the vestibule. She loved her job, but she was eager to get home from it these days, because she had some studying to do.

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a diet soda, and then she took it to the living room and took the spell book out of the drawer of the desk in the corner. She sat down on the couch, opening the book on her lap.

Becky was sad that Cas and Gail were dead, of course. She had bawled her eyes out when Bobby had come here to tell her the bad news. Thank God Cas had brought her to Earth and turned her human before the tragedy had happened. Bobby had consoled Becky, telling her that they were going to have a double funeral and then a wake at the bunker, if she wanted to come. Of course she wanted to come, she'd told him. Cas and Gail had been her friends.

So she'd gone to the funeral, and it had been so sad. Everybody had cried buckets, even the men. And so did Becky, although a small but ever-growing part of her was secretly relieved that Gail would no longer be around to threaten Becky's plan to get Sam. She guessed that wasn't very nice, but she didn't tell anybody about that, of course.

Truthfully, though, Becky didn't actually have a plan. She'd had no idea how she was going to get together with Sam. She was human now, renting a house on the outskirts of town, doing a lot of modelling jobs and buying stuff for her house. But how could she arrange to see Sam? She didn't think she could just drive over there without an excuse.

Now she had her excuse, but as Becky walked around the library area at Cas and Gail's wake with a drink in her hand, the atmosphere just didn't seem right for Becky to approach Sam. He was inconsolable, pounding back drink after drink. As the rest of the people haltingly started to tell stories about the couple, Sam just sat there, staring off into space with hollow eyes. Becky realized that he was going to need some time. But, how was she going to - Wait a minute. Becky's eyes fell on the bookshelves, and her pulse quickened. She looked around quickly to make sure that no one was watching her, and then she ducked around to where she remembered having seen the spell book, way back when.

And it was still there, neatly filed, just where it should be. After a split second's deliberation, Becky took it, and hid it on her person. Then she had asked Riley to take her home. She was too overcome with grief to stay there a moment longer, she'd told him, and besides, she had a splitting headache. So he had winked her home.

Riley was one of the many who was just going through the motions right now. Cas had been his mentor, his big brother, his God, and his father, all rolled into one. Riley had no idea what to do with himself any more. He was questioning his entire belief system now. How had this been allowed to happen? How could it stand? He kept walking around Heaven asking everyone that question, but nobody had an answer for him. Guys like Bobby had sighed and said that they just had to go on with things, that Cas would want it that way. But nobody could tell Riley why.

Becky was leafing through Rowena's spell book now, taking sips of her soda. She was very careful not to spill any on the book, though. Wow. She hadn't looked at it in years, but Becky was still amazed at the stuff that was in here. Spells to curse people, help them, locate them, and eavesdrop on them. She flipped to the back, staring at the revival spell. Holy moly. This was the most complicated thing she had ever seen. It was amazing to think that Gail had brought Dean back from the dead using this spell. Too bad she couldn't bring herself and Cas back, Becky thought with grim humour.

Then she flipped to the love spells. There were a few of them, specified by categories. There was an infatuation spell, an eternal devotion spell, and a lust spell. Becky blushed. Boy, she wouldn't mind trying out that last one. But she'd better be sure. She looked at the eternal devotion spell. There were some weird ingredients here, some she had never heard of. But if she took her time and was very careful, she should be able to figure it out.

Becky went to the desk and opened her laptop, searching Google for occult shops.

They'd looked everywhere twice now, but Gail finally had to accept the reality that the spell book was gone.

She came walking out to the library table, trudging slowly, and flopped down in the nearest chair. It wasn't her usual seat, but who cared? There was no Cas to sit beside her, anyway.

Gail was exhausted, and completely discouraged. Rob put a cup of coffee in front of her, but she just sat there, looking at it. Tears were pooling in her eyes again, but she knuckled them away angrily. There was no time to be a crybaby right now. If she hadn't cried in Hell, she certainly wasn't going to cry over some stupid book. Think. Think. What should I do, Cas? If it wasn't pouring rain outside, she would probably go out and sit by his grave, and ask him. But it would be pretty muddy in the backyard right now.

She sat bolt upright. The back yard! Gail leaped from her chair and crossed the library room to the stairs. Frank grabbed her before she could start up them. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Let go of me," she insisted. "I need to go to the back yard."

"What for?" he asked her.

Gail could feel everyone's eyes on her. "I'm not crazy," she told them. "I'm not. I just need to..." She thought fast. "Visit Cas's grave."

Frank's grip on her loosened. OK. That was more like it. At least she'd given up on that stupid spell book, and she wasn't talking about Cas as if he was still alive.

"It's pouring outside, remember?" Dean pointed out.

"I don't care," Gail said stubbornly. "I have to go see him. I mean, I have to go see the grave."

"OK, OK. I'll go with you, then," Dean said. "Hold up a second." He headed quickly down the hall, then came back a moment later with a hoodie sweater, which he put on her shoulders. "At least put this on," he said softly. Dean gave Frank a look, and Gail's brother stepped back.

Gail shrugged on the sweater as she hurried up the stairs, Dean on her heels. She exited the door and made a beeline for the stone marker, ignoring the rain that was pouring down on her. She knelt down in the mud beside Cas's grave. Dean made an impatient noise and leaned down, flipping the hood to cover her head.

"I'm going to get you back, sweetie," she said, touching the headstone. "Don't worry, I'm not giving up. Father said so."

Aw, geez. Dean put his hands on her shoulders. "Come on, Gail. Cas wouldn't want you to catch a cold. Come on, let's go inside. We'll wait until the rain stops, and then you can come back out, OK? Let's get you a nice, hot cup of coffee, and we'll put about half a bottle of whiskey in it. Okay?"

"No," she said. "I have to find it. It should be right beside Cas, right here."

To Dean's horror, she started to dig in the mud with her bare hands, scooping up handfuls of mud and throwing them to the side. "What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded, getting down on his knees next to her.

"I remembered, Dean," she said excitedly. "When I was hiding the spell book from Cas before I revived you, I photocopied the revival spell and buried a copy back here, in a coffee can!"

"It doesn't matter," Dean told her. "You heard Sam. It's not the same thing. Those aren't Cas's bones, sweetie."

Hearing Dean call her by the same nickname she called Cas made her start to cry, but she was also getting mad now. "Why does everybody keep saying that to me?" she wailed. "I don't care, Dean. I'll do it myself, if I have to. So either help me, or go back inside!" Now she was sobbing, flinging handfuls of mud around.

Dean sighed. "OK. Just a minute," he said. He went back to the overhang and grabbed the shovel that was leaning against the bunker wall. He brought it back to where she was kneeling. "Look out," he told her. He started to shovel the mud aside.

And then, incredibly, the coffee can was uncovered. But when Gail pulled it out of the muck, she screamed incoherently. Somehow, the lid had come off the container, and the pages were a soggy, pulpy mess. No! This couldn't be happening!

Dean threw the shovel down and grabbed Gail by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet. "You're coming inside with me, right now," he shouted, partly because the sound of the pouring rain was so loud, and partly because he had to get through to her somehow. "You think Cas wants you to get pneumonia? Think about how mad he'll be at me if I let you get sick!"

Gail dropped the coffee can. It was useless to her now. She let Dean take her inside.

"Jody, can you take her to the spare room and put her in some dry clothes?" Dean asked Frank's wife.

Jody handed Angela to Frank and came forward, taking Gail from Dean. Gail let Jody lead her to the bedroom. Jody sat her down on the bed, looking in the closet for a fresh outfit for Gail to wear.

"This really sucks," Jody said bluntly. "I remember when my husband and son died, I was in such deep denial about it for a while that I set places for them at the dinner table every night, when I came home from work. I used to roll over in bed at night, and expect to find my husband there." She took a pair of Gail's jeans and one of her tops off their hangers and brought them over to the bed. "Let's go," she said, gesturing. "I'm not undressing you like a child."

Gail just stared at her sister-in-law. "Cas isn't dead. I'm going to get him back. God said so."

"Yeah?" Jody said softly. "And just when did you talk to HIM?"

"In Hell," Gail replied. "He and Cas saved me from those Demons."

Jody sighed. She left the room and came back carrying a towel. Then she sat down on the bed next to Gail and handed it to her. "Do you realize how you sound right now?" Jody asked her sister-in-law, as gently as she could.

"OK, so, you guys can accept my being here fresh from Hell, but you can't accept the fact that I saw God there?" Gail said, wiping her muddy hands on the towel.

Jody paused. She had to admit that Gail had a point, there. "All right, Gail. OK," she said, taking the towel from Gail and dropping it on the floor. Gail started to change into her fresh set of clothes as Jody said, "You helped me so much when I was going through the worst of my cancer treatments. Now, I want to help you. What do you need, Gail?"

Her sister-in-law froze. She looked at the open closet, visualizing Cas standing there, getting dressed, as she was now. He always asked her that. And the answer was always the same: him.

"I need Cas back," she told Jody simply.

Jody frowned. "What if that's not possible?"

"Of course it's possible," Gail insisted. "God said it was."

The women walked back out to the library area. Frank gave Jody an inquiring look, but Jody shook her head. As Gail sat down again, trying to think of what to do next, Dean put a mug of hot coffee in front of her.

"Drink this," he ordered her. "It's laced, so be careful. You're human, now."

She took a sip, making a face that would have been comical under ordinary circumstances. "Too much?" Dean asked her, reaching for the cup.

"Nope. Just right," she told him, taking another sip.

While the women had been in the other room, Riley had popped down from Heaven. Bobby had sent word to the Angels that Gail was back, and Riley'd had to come and see her for himself. He came forward now, taking the seat next to her. In a sweet gesture, he reached out and took her hand.

"If there's anything - " Riley's voice broke, and he had to clear his throat and try again. "If there's anything, anything that I can do for you, please tell me what it is," he said to her. "Cas meant everything to me, so I can't even imagine what you must be going through."

"Thanks, Riley," she said softly. "But you can start by not talking about Cas in the past tense. If you really mean it about doing anything for me, then stick around, 'cause I'm going to need a chauffeur. I can't pop around places anymore." She was beginning to have an idea now, but she had to get away from all of these people, staring at her as if she was a lunatic. Cas was talking to her in her head now. She had allowed herself to get distracted in Hell, and again when she had been looking for the spell book. It wasn't his vessel she should be concerning herself with; it was his essence. Look at Gail herself as an example. Supposedly, she was buried in the back yard of the bunker, beside Cas. Yet here she was, drinking the world's strongest Irish coffee. Cas had tried to tell her before that they were much, much more than their vessels, and she was living proof of that, wasn't she? Within the space of a few weeks, she had been in Heaven, then in Hell, and now she was on Earth. If Cas wasn't in any of those places, there was only one other place he could logically be. All of this other stuff had just been a giant time-waster. She needed to go back to the original plan.

Gail looked at Frank. "I need to borrow your computer. Cas and I don't have one."

"You can borrow mine," Rob said quickly. "And I can help you look stuff up too, if you want. I know that older people aren't really that good with computers." He waited to see if she would take the bait, giving her a hopeful smile.

"Oh, har, har," Gail said to Frank's son. "Watch it. Just because I don't have my Angelic powers at the moment, doesn't mean I can't kick your ass." She looked at Dean. "Hey, that reminds me: Where's my blade?"

"They're in the weapons room," Dean replied somberly.

Gail nodded. She didn't question his use of the plural. He meant both hers and Cas's blades, of course. "OK, good," she said, taking another sip of coffee. "We'll keep them there for now." Then she stood from her chair, stretching. "Riley, can you take me to my house?" she asked the young Angel. "Then, if you wouldn't mind, can you bring Rob and his laptop over? We've got some research to do." Suddenly, her stomach rumbled, and she smiled. "And can you guys bring some food, when you come? You know that Cas and I won't have any in the house." She went over to Dean, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Can I have Cas's cell phone, please? I'll call all of you guys when there's any news to report." He took it out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, communicating non-verbally. I have to do this, Dean, she said to him. I'm doing it. OK, Gail, he said. We'll be here, if you need us.

Then Gail reached out for Riley's hand, and then they were gone, leaving a stunned and silent group of loved ones behind.