Lots of new people - hello! Sorry for the delay in posting. I'm going to hopefully try and stick to at least a post a week from here on out. I know where it's going and I know how it'll end (but do you? mua ha ha) so this will get to complete. Huge thanks to everyone coming in, writing comments and being just generally fantastic. You're all the apples of my eye.


"You understand anything that guy was saying?" Dean says when they finally leave the bar.

"No and they got really quiet at the end," Oliver says, studying the empty, dark street. "You notice that bar didn't have a single television in it?"

"No windows either," Dean says with a glance over his shoulder.

"And no wifi signal."

"Yep, 8 out of 10 on the 'not good' scale," Dean looks over the back of his shoulder. "You know, like an entire town being indoors at 8pm on a Wednesday."

Oliver looks around again. "Something's not right…"

"Cas!" Dean says loudly.

Oliver gives a shake of his head. There's a shadow of movement across his right peripheral vision and he turns his head, just in time for the shadow to disappear behind a group of trees behind a building. "We're not alone."

"Perfect," Dean says with a nod. "And we have no idea what exactly we're up against. Got any advice?"

"Thought you had all the answers . . ."

"Not yet, just thought you'd have some experience dodging arrows…" He trails off as he sees it, across the road, the line of a building curves and bumps awkwardly and then moves altogether. "There's more than one."

Before Dean can speak, he's shoved hard down to the ground. He moves to yell at Oliver only to find him on the ground as well, his mouth in a perfect 'o' and his gaze fixed on the mailbox in front of him. There sits an arrow, still fluttering from the impact. Dean hadn't even heard it.

"Go, now," Oliver says.

Dean scrambles, hearing Oliver behind him. He pushes himself into the darkness, his eyes fixed on the Inn ahead of them. As he nears the door without an arrow through him, certain realities begin to hit. The Arrow just saved his life from an arrow he didn't even hear, which is just not possible. When he looks back at him, the same man is now holding the Arrow, which just… how? And behind that, a much more prosaic notion, the weather.

"Inside," Oliver pushes as they reach the door.

Dean nods and gives only a passing glance back to the street, the enemies which now seem everywhere, and the unmistakable snow that's fluttering over everything.


When they enter the inn, it's quiet and the lady behind the counter is gone. "Yeah," Dean says. "No log lady. That makes sense right about now."

Oliver's gaze goes to the reception desk and his grip tightens on the arrow, noting the slight bumps in the shaft. A shaved down branch. No other explanation. "Cafe."

When he sees Felicity, Sam and Diggle at the corner booth, a breath he didn't know he had been holding slowly leaves him. The palpable sense of relief goes when he sees Diggle brush his hand over his mouth, his telltale sign of worry. "It's not good," Diggle says when he sees them.

Oliver gives a nod and looks down at Felicity. In front of her are four cell phones, his own included, all broken apart. There are also two USB ports, several other small pieces he doesn't recognize, her tablet and laptop. "Felicity?"

"I will figure this out," she says without a glance up at him.

"You got an arrow?" Sam says.

Everyone's glance goes to him, Felicity's eyes going wide, Diggle's head giving a vague shake. Before he can speak, Dean pipes up. "We met the welcoming committee…"

"Committee?" Sam says.

"More than one," Dean says.

"Oliver?" Diggle looks to him for confirmation. Oliver glances at him, then at Felicity whose eyes are fixed on the arrow, worry everywhere in her expression. Diggle takes a breath, "we need to get out of here."

"About that," Dean says with a quick laugh. "Anyone remember chains?"

"It's snowing!?" Felicity says.

Oliver knows that panic and he wants to say something reassuring, something solid. But nothing comes. Instead his mind replays what happened on the street. The arrow he's holding is rudimentary, basic. He had felt the stone arrowhead when he pulled it from the wood, and now he feels the greasy feathers against his leg. It matches the descriptions of every other arrow here. Which is fine, except for the fact that the shot out there was just not possible with it. That was a shot of force, of distance, of precision, from a distance beyond his eyesight. Something even he couldn't make even on his best day. So he's either missing something or it's . . . .

"What are you doing?" Dean asks and then on a whim, flips open his cell phone, it's black. "We don't have a cell phone signal?"

"Or wifi or uh, a land line," Sam supplies. "About a half hour after we decided to use it to look into some… historical discrepancies we found at the town hall…"

Oliver feels his glance go to the windows, which are curtain-covered and frosted. "Felicity," he says warily, not liking the vision of her head above the booth, unobstructed to the glass and beyond it.

"I will figure this out," she repeats and she drags her eyes away from the arrow.

"What does that mean?" Oliver asks.

"It means that we're dead in the water," Diggle says and when Felicity looks up at him in anger. "For now."

"I once hacked a casino with a 14.4 bit modem and Prodigy," Felicity says ruefully. "I can get us a signal."

"How is that going to help us?" Dean says.

Felicity's eyes narrow, "ask me that again when you meet our friends from ARGUS…"

Oliver nods, "until then, let's get upstairs . . . put a little distance between us and the street."

Nobody complains. Diggle grabs the phones, Felicity grabs her tablet and laptop, Sam grabs the small unknown pieces. Dean just runs a hand through his hair and turns, "stairs? Yeah. Stairs."

It's not perfect, Oliver realizes. The town knows this is where he is and Alec died two stories up but it's large and with the shutters closed, it's protected enough. He turns back. Felicity is in the corner table, her impromptu tech-lab set back up. Diggle sits across from her, playing with his phone. Sam and Dean stand by the bed, talking quietly to themselves. He studies them for a moment. "Alright, let's hear it…"

Sam and Dean give him an odd look, as if they've been caught in something. It's Diggle who speaks. "We went through the town records. At first glance, it's straightforward. Except when we tried to trace back the history of the Shawinigan family…" Diggle shifts, his eyes on Sam. "It wasn't there."

"The town hasn't changed in population since it was founded," Sam scratched his forehead. "That's not all…Alphonse had two sisters. Annabelle and Adriana. Found it online. Before them, it was Abram, Anastasia and Abigale… it's always one brother, two sisters. It's not possible, genetically."

"What happened to Annabelle and Adriana?" Oliver says, puzzling.

Sam flicks his eyes to Felicity, who is typing on her tablet with a gaze of intent. "We're trying to figure that out…"

"So what, we have a town that never changes, just keeps… repeating?" Dean says.

"Yeah, you ever hear of anything like that?" Sam says to him.

"Yeah, about an hour or so ago, two chuckleheads in the bar said the town never changes."

"We need to find Cas…" Sam says.

Oliver takes a breath, "now. Now I want to know who Cas is. Now."

Dean turns back around, his glance on Sam. Sam gives him a look.

"He's an angel," Sam says softly.

Felicity's tinkering stops abruptly. Oliver gives her a passing glance before he looks back to Sam with a dubious look. "What's an angel?"

"You know, a spiritual being that serves God," Dean says.

Oliver lets out a groan and turns away.

"You're saying God exists?" Diggle says.

"He does more than exist…" Dean replies.

"Cas said there were spirits here," Sam says. "And since we've been here, we can't contact him. He…"

"Demon hunters," Felicity says. "That's… what you are? That's actually a thing?"

"Felicity," Oliver says to her, suspicion evident.

"Breath," Diggle says. Everyone turns to him. "I saw … Cas on the road. He said it was like breath. Spirit is another term for breath," Diggle says. "The bible, get me a bible…"

After a moment, Diggle reads: "The earth was without form and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters."

"This is ridiculous…" Oliver says.

"Welcome to our line of work," Dean says. "Genesis, right? The place of darkness, where the Spirit of God hovered over its waters and gave the world light…."

Diggle face goes into a mixture of disbelief and amusement, "Garden of Eden. Come on."

"Okay," Oliver says. "None of this is helping us. None of this is telling us who is shooting these arrows or why people are dying or why people tried to kill Dean…"

"Hey, you were there too!"

"Unless someone's trying to protect it," Felicity says. "Think about it. If it is the Garden of Eden then you're not supposed to mess with it. Unless you're Eve and just wanted a little knowledge which don't even get me started on how she got punished for that."

"She's got a point," Sam says to Dean.

"Yeah, who protects the Garden of Eden…" Dean says back.

Diggle finds it quickly. "Genesis 3:24. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life. After sending them out, the Lord God stationed mighty cherubim to the east of the Garden of Eden."

"Great, what are mighty cherubim?" Sam says.

"My guess, two big bad bruisers who shoot from bows and arrows," Dean replies.

Oliver shakes his head and moves away. He looks down again at the arrow he's holding. The shaft is thick, heavy. It's a good arrow but undoubtedly hand-crafted and rustic. Maybe . . . Oliver shakes his head, "Arabella."

"What?" several says.

"At the house, she was weird. Her brother and sister, the ones who don't agree on anything, shut right up for her. She knows something," Oliver says. "And with the history you found . . ."

"Bell? Nah, that's just Bell . . . she's always been flighty."

"Flighty can mean evasive," Oliver counters.

"Seriously? Let me guess, shy can mean what … terrorist?" Dean adds.

"Fine, let's skip the idea of doing an actual interview to find actual evidence because of actual found evidence and base everything on a book of parables," Oliver furrows his brow. "Or you can try to convince me that the two hicks we just met in the bar were Isaac and Ishmael and that they have pool tables in the Garden of Eden."

This sobers the room and the two groups again regard each other suspiciously. Felicity looks back down at the table covered in tech equipment, "I'm going to . . . bring us back to the twenty-first century."

"Yeah," Diggle says, closing the Bible. "I'm uh . . . going to see if I can get a weather report or uh, a way out of here."

Sam immediately picks up the bible, "we need to look into this. We need…"

"Do that," Oliver says. "In your room."

"No way." Dean says, "look, I get it, you're the broody suspicious green giant. We can roll with that. What we can't do is make trapped in a horror movie mistake number one and separate. This thing, whatever it is, shot at both of us. So until we take this mother down, we stick together and worry later about whether we'll all get the 'plays well with others' merit badge at the end."

"Fine," Oliver says. "But I don't want to hear anything we can't prove or deal with. Got it?"

Dean nods, "we'll give you a bad guy that you can hit, I promise."

Felicity looks up, "so… anyone up for finding us food because I'm guessing Shawinigan isn't known for it's delivery considering the whole communication black-out slash possible mythical land from which all life was created thing?"

Dean smiles at Felicity, "hey, what kind of Adam would I be if I didn't get you an apple? I'll get food."

There's a rather distinct Oliver-sized grumble in the background.

"Speaking of, is me being Jewish going to be a thing? Because I feel like I should put that out there now," Felicity says. "Also, you really need to brush up on your old testament plot points because I think you missed a few about Adam."

Before Dean can speak, Sam chuckles, "you're fine Felicity. In our experience, its people who care much more about religion than . . . uh, anything or anyone else."

"That's nice," Felicity says. "So. . . there's a good God?"

"Can we . . . just focus on getting out of here?" Oliver interrupts.

Sam gives her a slight nod and Dean gives her a thumbs up. Felicity smiles until sees Oliver catch them all and then quickly and dutifully looks back down at her array of equipment. The amusement passes quickly though and then everyone lingers, their eyes drifting to the shut wooden blinds at each window, only to then rest on each other. With a nod from Oliver, then Diggle, then Dean, then Sam and each a passing glance at Felicity working diligently, they take a breath and move to do their part to get through the night.