Sam awoke with a gasp, as though from a bad dream. He rolled onto his back and tried to calm his breathing. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins and a creeping sense of dread suggested he might be better not knowing. He checked his phone. It was 4am. Great. After a few moments, he got up and pulled on a robe before heading to the kitchen. The Bunker was silent as he padded down the corridor, he couldn't even hear Dean snoring. In the silent kitchen, he opened a cabinet to get a glass and stopped. The cabinet was empty, except for one bizarre glass goblet. The glass was blown into a swirl of gold and amber and was so large Sam could barely wrap his hands around the bowl. He weighed it in his hands and frowned at it. Sam was pretty sure he'd never seen it before and just as sure he probably shouldn't use it to drink from.
He set it on the counter and it made a faint, bell-like ring. He returned his attention to the cabinets, searching for a water glass, but they were all empty. Sighing, he returned to the mysterious goblet. Water, clear and cool, now filled the glass. OK, that was definitely weird. He absolutely should not taste this water. But he was so thirsty and the water looked so appealing. He sniffed at it gingerly but could smell nothing. A tiny taste then. He sipped carefully at the glass, and then smiled. The water was delicious, like those expensive mineral waters served in fancy restaurants. He swallowed some more, and then placed the glass back on the counter. It was empty.
His eyelids drooped and he felt a curious lethargy overtake him, making his limbs heavy and his movements slow. He wandered back to his room, and almost collapsed onto the bed, drifting in a drowsily pleasurable haze. A delicate touch, like the tip of a finger, stroked along his arm and he shivered, smiling lazily. Then a light breath of air across his chest made him blink his eyes open, but the room was very dark and he couldn't see anything. He closed his eyes again and slipped quietly into sleep.
Dean poked at the coffee machine in irritation. He'd tried everything, but the damn thing was totally dead. He chewed at his lip, he could try taking it apart and figuring what was wrong with it or he could just go out and find a coffee shop. He checked his watch and his face twisted. It was after 9am, where was Sam? He abandoned the machine and headed off to Sam's room.
Dean knocked at Sam's door and listened. When there was no response, he tried the knob and it turned easily. Sam was lying on his back, his limbs flung outwards as though he had been thrown onto the bed.
"Sam?" Dean said loudly, poking his brother in the leg. "Sam!" His brother's eyes didn't even flicker. He grabbed Sam's arm and shook him, shouting his name, but still his brother was unresponsive. He turned on the lamp on Sam's nightstand. Golden light flooded the room and Dean could see that his brother was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked around for any sign Sam had taken sleeping pills or something else that could explain this almost coma-like state. But there was nothing.
Something by his brother's bed caught his eye. He leaned down to pick up a card from the floor. It was about 5 by 7 inches and on one side was an abstract painted design that reminded him of peacock feathers. On the other side was a painting of a glass goblet, with elaborate blue and silver curlicues on it. A male hand held the goblet, squarish and strong and vaguely familiar. The wrist had a light sprinkling of dark hair but no more of the arm could be seen. Dean frowned, flipping the card over and over. He started when he felt the card vibrating, almost like a cellphone and he dropped it with a yelp.
"What is that?" Cas said from the door, his eyes blazing.
"No idea," Dean said, staring at the card like it was a snake. "I found it on the floor. And Sam's out cold in here. When I picked it up, it started buzzing like a goddamn wasp."
"Sam's unconscious?" Cas said in alarm.
"Yeah," Dean said. The angel skirted the disturbing card and knelt down next to Sam's bed, placing a hand on his forehead. He went rigid, and turned back to Dean with an appalled look on his face.
"Sam's enchanted."
"Enchanted? What the Hell?" Dean exclaimed. "This bunker's meant to be impenetrable."
"From the outside," Cas said cryptically.
"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.
"What if this is something that's already in here?" Cas looked back down at the weird card on the floor. "It looks remarkably like a tarot card," he observed. "Could it be one of the set Sam brought from Peoria?"
"Well, what is it doing out here?" Dean growled. "Sam locked them away and I would swear he wouldn't have gone near them again. He seemed scared to death of them, you saw him."
"Gabriel was very concerned about just how powerful and dangerous they are," Cas agreed. "He told Sam he thought they might be sentient. It's seems he was right."
"Is there anything you can do for Sam?"
"I've tried everything I can," Cas said. "I think we should call Gabriel."
"Gabriel," Dean repeated, his face twisting. "If his Grace is bound the way he claims, what can he do?"
"My brother is very knowledgeable. Where did the card come from?"
Dean said impatiently. "I found it lying on its own on the floor."
"Indeed," Cas said. "How did it get here?"
"You think… What? That Sam got up in the night and pulled this one card out of the deck? Why?"
"I'm inclined to think it got here of its own accord," Cas said. "Remember what Sam said. The box appeared in his car even though he refused to take it from Magenta LaCroix."
"Holy shit, Cas," Dean breathed. "Are you saying these cards can move through warded safes and lockboxes."
"I believe that is what happened, yes." The angel looked solemnly down at Sam. "Gabriel may not be able to access his Grace, but he knows an awful lot. I don't know what else to do."
"OK, fine," Dean snapped. "But he better not mess with any of us. Is that clear?"
"He'll behave," the angel promised.
"Where's Mel?" Mary said as she emerged from the kitchen to collect the last of the dishes.
"She said she was tired and went to bed," Alicia said. She eyed Mary for a moment. "Constance McBride. There's a name I'd hoped never to hear again."
"Tell me about it," Mary said with feeling. She turned back to the kitchen and Alicia got up and followed her.
"Are these the last?" Max said from where he was stood by the sink.
"Yes," Mary told him. Alicia grabbed beers from the fridge and offered one to Mary, who placed the plates by Max and then accepted gratefully.
"And this grimoire Mel found," Alicia said. "Does Mel have any idea what she actually found?"
"I don't think so," Mary said. "But there aren't many that would contain a spell like the Hyde curse."
"Right," Max said, placing the last of the clean dishes on the drainer and grabbing a towel to dry his hands.
"Not the Book of the Damned," Mary added. "We know where that is."
"And it's probably not the Black Grimoire," Alicia said. "The Loughlins have that. They're unlikely to let it out of their sight."
"What about the Book of Fell Curses?" Max suggested. "Nobody knows where that is."
"The Book of Fell Curses doesn't have the Hyde curse in it," Alicia told him. "The curse was invented after it was written."
"Does it matter which book she found?" Mary asked, sipping at her beer.
"Oh, it matters," Alicia assured her. "There aren't that many grimoires out there and most are in the hands of witches who guard them very carefully. How the Hell does a powerful book like that end up in a thrift shop?"
"Fair enough," Mary relented. "That's a good question."
"St Louis," Max said suddenly.
"What?"
"Mel said she found it in St Louis," he repeated. "St Louis, Alicia."
"You don't think…"
"I do."
"What!" Mary exclaimed, irritated.
Max took a deep breath. "When we were little kids, sometimes mom used to leave us with a psychic called Amanda Walters, in St Louis. She was murdered when we were in college. The police thought it was the work of the serial killer, the I-55 Strangler. But she really didn't fit the victim profile. He liked young white women with red hair. Amanda was in her fifties and had brown hair, not to mention the fact that he used to pick up his victims in bars and Amanda didn't drink or go to bars."
"Jesus," Mary breathed. "So why does this relate to a grimoire?"
"Amanda had four," Max said. "The Book of Winter, the Book of Shadows, the Path of the Dead and the Codex Retorta."
"You've got to be kidding me," Mary said. "Who the Hell was this woman?"
"Just a psychic as far as we knew. But how someone like that got her hands on books like the Path of the Dead, I've no idea. Whoever killed Amanda, took the books. And every photo of us that Amanda had." Alicia shuddered.
"We've been terrified for years that her killer was looking for us," Max added. "But we've never heard anything about the grimoires since and although we keep a close ear to the ground, there's no hint anyone's searching for us."
"Do you know if the Hyde curse was in any of those books?" Mary asked tiredly.
"Not for sure," Max said. "We were never allowed to touch those books. But the Book of Shadows is rumored to contain many powerful curses."
"And the Book of Winter was supposed to have been written by the witch credited with inventing the Hyde curse," Alicia pointed out.
"Who was that?"
"Fanny Vandergrift Osbourne," Max told her. "Wife of Robert Louis Stevenson. She was reputedly a very powerful witch. She was also an American and when Stevenson died, she returned to California."
"Wait, are you saying the inventor of the Hyde curse was married to the man who wrote Jekyll and Hyde?" Mary said in astonishment.
"We are," Alicia said. "Nobody really knows what happened but Max and I think she must have been experimenting with the curse and Stevenson wrote his book based on her early experiments."
Mary shook her head to clear it. This was insane. "So somehow this Book of Winter ends up in a thrift store?"
"Yeah, that's the part I can't figure out," Alicia admitted. "It shouldn't have happened. Most rare book and antique dealers know not to handle grimoires, but a thrift store probably had no idea what they had. I can only think it was a donation from someone's estate and nobody picked up on the incredibly powerful artifact in among the knick-knacks."
"And now Constance McBride has it," Mary sighed.
"Mel has a gift," Max said. "She probably isn't even really aware of it, but I've never met such a powerful Finder."
"Finder?"
"Someone who can sniff out magical items," Alicia explained. "Most Finders aren't consciously aware of their talent but they tend to gravitate to working in private art collection, museums, that kind of thing. Mel's gift is unusually strong."
"And yet she had real trouble finding the talisman when it was stolen," Mary said, her mouth thinning.
"The curse could be clouding her ability," Max suggested. "And if she's been playing around with witchcraft, that could mask it too. Being a Finder is like being a psychic, it's mostly a passive ability and also like psychic ability, it's something you're born with. Magic on the other hand is something you have to learn. Although innate talent is part of it, you can't accidentally become a witch."
"So you think McBride was using her to find powerful objects?" Mary surmised.
"It's the only thing that makes sense," Alicia said reasonably. "Constance hates hunters. Why would she team up with one unless there's something in it for her? She must have met Mel, probably by chance, and realized her ability could be manipulated for her own ends."
"And the Hyde curse? She killed the goose the lays the golden eggs," Max objected.
"I wonder if Mel is telling the whole truth about how she got cursed," Alicia mused. "It's true that miscasting the curse causes it to rebound on the caster. Many curses are like that. But Constance took one Hell of a risk that she wasn't caught in the backwash too. You don't get to be as old as her by taking stupid risks."
"Let's press her on it in the morning," Mary suggested, finishing the last of her beer. "I'm beat."
Alicia and Max exchanged a glance and then nodded. "Sure."
"I told him to lock those cards away," a voice said from the door. Dean looked up in surprise and relief to see the archangel, with Cas hovering nervously behind him.
"Gabriel?" he said. "You got here quick." Gabriel gave him an unfathomable look and then his attention focused on the strange card Dean had dropped on the floor.
"What do you see, on that card?" he asked, pinning Dean with a sharp look.
"Uh, some kind of fancy glass. It's blue and silver, fancy looking. All swirly and delicate." Gabriel was suppressing a smile rather poorly. "Why?"
"You're adorable," Gabriel told him. "Everyone sees something different when they look at those cards."
"Oh yeah? What do you see?"
"That's not important. Where did you find it?" Gabriel said, his humor draining away as he looked at Sam.
"In here," Dean replied. "It was on the floor."
"Has Sam touched it?" Gabriel said urgently. "Did he leave it there?"
"I don't know," Dean told him. "He was like this when I got here." Gabriel looked really unhappy. He moved over to Sam's bed and perched on the edge, laying one hand on Sam's cheek. His face was all intense concentration, and then Sam groaned and his eyes fluttered. He turned his head into Gabriel's touch and a slight smile spread across his face.
"Sam," Gabriel prompted. "Wake up, Sam." Sam mumbled something unintelligible. Gabriel withdrew his hand and Sam pouted. His eyes opened and he stared at Gabriel.
"Uh. Hi," he turned to look at Dean and then back at the archangel. "Uh, what's going on?" Gabriel was still watching Sam intently and Dean waited a moment before interjecting. "You were out cold. And I found this weird-ass card near your bed that started vibrating when I picked it up." Sam frowned but didn't look away from Gabriel.
"I told you to lock those cards away, Sam," the archangel said sternly. His hand stroked along Sam's jaw and behind his ear. Sam tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes. Gabriel tugged at his hair and his eyes popped open again.
"Hmm. What did you do, Sam?"
"Nothing," Sam said, his voice dazed. "I locked the cards away in the basement. In the most heavily warded safe we have."
"What the Hell are these cards?" Dean demanded. "Sam said you told him Michael made them?"
"I think so," Gabriel replied. "They're sentient and that means they're very dangerous."
"They were Ashton LaCroix's," Dean exclaimed. "Dude was a total fraud!"
"Not on this occasion," Gabriel said. He was leaning towards Sam, and sounded distracted.
"Uh, Gabriel?" Dean said uncomfortably. "What are you doing?"
"Thinking about your brother," Gabriel said absently. Dean looked down at the card on the floor. Acting on instinct, he reached out with a toe and slid it away from Sam's bed and then out into the hall. Gabriel blinked and sat back. He looked over at Dean and he was angry. Dean gulped and shuffled backwards.
"What did you do?" Gabriel snapped. Dean pointed at the card now lying in the hallway. Gabriel looked back towards Sam, whose eyes had closed again and he was breathing evenly. He hummed to himself and patted Sam's cheek. This time, Sam's eyes popped open and he looked alarmed when he saw Gabriel sitting on his bed.
"Gabriel? What's going on?" he cried. The archangel ignored him.
"Dean, go find a warded box. Best one you've got." Dean nodded and left the room. Sam poked Gabriel in the arm.
"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Sam demanded. Gabriel nodded towards the card.
"That card. And you." Which was no kind of explanation as far as Sam was concerned. Dean had returned with a lead-lined box engraved with warding symbols. Gabriel nodded in satisfaction, got up and walked out into the hall, picking up the card gingerly between thumb and forefinger. He dropped the card into the open box with a grimace and Dean slammed it shut.
"Will somebody please tell me what's happening?" Sam yelled. Gabriel gave him a strange look.
"In a moment. First tell me what happened last night." Sam glared at him.
"Nothing happened. We did some research, ate pizza. I went to bed."
"No dreams?" Gabriel pressed. Sam looked startled.
"Uh, yeah. Actually, I woke up from a nightmare around 4am. Got up for a drink… of… water…" He trailed off and looked puzzled. "There was this strange goblet in the cabinet. Blown glass, with these spirals of amber and gold. It's was… beautiful. I didn't want to drink out of it but I couldn't find another glass. The water was so delicious, it was incredible. Then I came back to bed."
"Hmm," Gabriel said, glowering. "What about the card? Where did it come from?" Sam shook his head.
"I never saw it until now, but the goblet on it looked exactly like the one in the kitchen."
"That goblet's blue and silver," Dean objected.
"To you," Gabriel said dismissively. "That's because of Castiel."
"Cas?" Dean yelped. "What's he got to do with this?"
"Nothing. Now, Sam. Concentrate on what I'm saying." Sam nodded. "What happened after you came back to bed?" Sam's face went red and Dean wondered if he should be here to listen to this.
"I felt tired, utterly exhausted. And then, this… touch," he breathed. "It was unlike anything I've ever felt before. And I've never wanted anything so badly as to keep feeling it. Then I guess I fell asleep." Gabriel frowned and walked back to Sam's bed. He thrust one hand into Sam's hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Sam went willingly and Gabriel frowned even harder. He tugged at Sam's hair, and Sam winced but didn't resist. He looked back at Dean.
"Your brother's enchanted," he said sourly.
"That's what I said," Cas rumbled. "But I don't understand how it happened."
"I told you the cards are sentient. And I have no idea what they want, or what their creator intended for them."
"Can you fix it?" Dean asked urgently. Gabriel pursed his lips.
"Not without my Grace. But I can tell Castiel how to dim its effects." He waved his brother over and placed Sam's face in his hands. He muttered something in Enochian at Cas, who nodded his understanding and then concentrated. Sam's face went slack and then he began to topple sideways. Gabriel grabbed him and shoved Cas out of the way. Sam's eyes flickered and then they popped open.
"Hey," he complained. "Let me go!" Gabriel released him and gave a lopsided smile.
"That ought to do it. For now, at least. Once we get the cards locked down again, the enchantment should fade."
"So Ashton made these tarot cards?" Dean asked. Gabriel rolled his eyes in disgust.
"Yes with Michael's help. I already told you that."
"Michael's in the Cage," Dean pointed out and Gabriel turned to look directly at him.
"He's been in the Cage, what, six years? These cards were made a long time ago. I'd say at least a quarter century but I suspect they are 33 years old." A line appeared between Sam's brows.
"I'm 33," he noted. Gabriel nodded at him.
"Yes. Yes, you are."
"Are you saying Michael helped LaCroix make these cards when Sam was born? To target Sam specifically?"
"Yes," Gabriel replied. He sounded really angry, Sam thought vaguely.
"Is this about the Apocalypse?" Dean asked and Gabriel gave a short nod.
"I expect so," he mused. "But for some reason, they never came into play."
"LaCroix was in prison," Dean said suddenly. "He was suspected of killing his first wife, I forget her name. She'd gone missing and Ashton helped the police find her body, supposedly with his psychic powers. The police figured he knew where the body was because he killed her."
"I remember that," Sam said. "He was arrested just before I killed Lilith. It was a total media circus and it was supposed to be an open and shut case. But it took a really long time to come to trial. And then the prosecution's case collapsed when they couldn't break his alibi because their key witness disappeared. All their other evidence was circumstantial and the jury acquitted him in record time. But that was only a day or two before-" He broke off suddenly and his stricken gaze flicked to Gabriel. The archangel looked unconcerned.
"Before I bought the big one at the Elysian Fields Motel?" he asked with a grin.
"Yes," Sam said quietly. "So, the cards didn't come into play because the man who created them was in jail? I don't understand why that would make a difference." Gabriel put his hands on his hips.
"I'm not sure because I don't know what Michael intended," Gabriel said. "Maybe they were meant to manipulate you into killing Lilith." Sam screwed up his face as he thought about it.
"But…" Sam objected. "Ruby was already manipulating me. Why would Michael need to interfere?"
"Not only does Michael always overdo everything, but he likes having a back-up plan. In case you proved resistant to being influenced by the demon he chose to steer you into killing Lilith." Sam looked crestfallen.
"Well, he wasted his time, didn't he?" he commented sadly. And then he leaned back, appalled. "What do you mean, he chose?"
"Michael engineered the whole thing. Including much of what Hell was up to." Gabriel said angrily. "There was a stream of messages going back and forth between Heaven and Hell so thick I'm astonished nobody noticed."
"We were a little busy," Dean said defensively.
"I don't mean you," Gabriel dismissed. He was gazing at Sam so intently it was beginning to make him uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily and tried to think of something to say.
"Thank you, for coming and helping me. Dean and I will find a way to deal with these tarot cards." Gabriel looked like he wanted to say something else but something in Sam's face seemed to stop him. He nodded, got up off the bed and walked out of the room. Cas gave Sam a look he couldn't interpret and followed his brother into the hallway.
Sam fell back on the bed, his breath huffing out of him.
"Are you OK?" Dean asked. Sam inhaled sharply.
"Yeah. I don't know what happened. But we need to find a way to lock these cards down for good."
"Why not just destroy them?" Dean suggested.
"I can only assume it's not possible. Otherwise surely Gabriel would have told me to do that, wouldn't he? Rather than just secure them in the safe." Sam rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans. "Come on, let's get that thing locked away."