The loud ringing started up suddenly in the silence, scaring the hell out of all of them. The Impala's windows amplified the sound as the waves bounced around the car, prompting a flurry of motion and a set of muttered curses.

Jesse sat up straight, his head moving in awkward jerky snaps as he sought the source of the noise; Dean nearly crossed the double yellow. Bobby simply scowled and rested his head back against the window as Sam searched his pockets, sighing when he finally dug out his cell.

"Jesus, Sam." Dean was facing forward again. "Next time, just set a gunshot as the ringtone, why don't you."

"Hello?"

Dean narrowed his eyes in the rearview mirror, but Sam ignored him.

"Hey, it's good to hear from you-"

Dean risked a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Who is it?"

Sam waved him off.

"Yeah, we know, Cas told us-"

"Hey." The car was drifting toward the center line again. Dean corrected and turned toward the back seat. "Who the hell is that?"

"We're on our way there now, so I don't think there's time-"

"It's your grandfather," Jesse said, yawning.

"Samuel?"

"No, idjit, your other grandfather."

"Yeah, Cas thinks he knows what's happened to the bodies. We could use the help, but we're about an hour out, and we'll be done by the time you get here."

"What the hell's he up to?" Dean muttered.

"He wants to come and help." Jesse listened in on the call, ignoring Sam's annoyed expression. "He knows about War and how to kill him."

"That's nobody," Sam said. "Just someone we brought along to help us. Did you find out anything else?"

Bobby stretched, his elbow pressing into Jesse's side.

"Ow!"

"Oh, quit your bitching," Bobby said. "You'll live."

"You know, you're not very considerate of others." Jesse moved toward Sam, who scoffed, sliding closer to his door and switching the phone to the opposite ear.

Dean joined an interstate. "How the hell did he find out about this before we did?"

"He's a hunter, too," Bobby said. "He ain't stupid. Probably has tons of contacts, with all those Campbells of his."

Dean cocked his head. "Yeah, right."

"All right, thanks. We'll call you if things get bad. See you tomorrow." Sam snapped the phone shut and repositioned himself in the seat, trying to uncramp his legs.

"Dammit, Dean, is Cas even coming back to the car? It'd be great if one of us could get into the front seat."

"What did he have to say?" Dean sped up, pulling into the fast lane.

Sam rolled his eyes, eyeing the empty space beside Dean. "He knows War's who we're hunting, and called to tell us the ring can kill him."

"And how'd he come across that little tidbit?"

"Didn't say. You think he heard about it from some demon he was exorcising? It's how Gordon found out about me."

"I think this whole business is fishier than a Gulf coast wharf," Dean said. "I mean, first nobody has any idea what the hell is going on, and now all of a sudden everyone and their grandpa's got the inside track?"

Sam scratched his jaw. "I dunno, man, Cas seems pretty sure. And why would Samuel lie to us about this? I mean, what would anyone have to gain by helping War?"

Dean thought for a moment, then nodded, changing lanes again. "Yeah, you're right, I guess. I just don't li-"

"You must stop at once!"

Dean swerved reflexively and jammed on the brakes. A tangle of hands shot forward as Sam, Jesse and Bobby braced themselves against the front seats. Dean swore and straightened the car out, rolling slowly onto the shoulder and squeaking to a stop, throwing the car into park.

"What have I told you about that, Cas? I didn't go through all this just to die in a fucking car crash because you don't know how to come quietly!"

"My apologies," Cas said, "but it's crucial that we stop here. We should walk into the city."

"What?" Sam leaned forward. "Why? We'll be wide open for miles."

"Because he won't expect it," Jesse said.

Dean turned around. "What?"

"He's been locked away, forcibly, for almost a year," Jesse said. "He was furious about it, the whole time I was with him. When he'd visit me in my dreams, he'd complain that his knowledge, his intuition had been destroyed by you two. I think that when you took his ring, you stole a vital part of him. I don't know exactly how it works, but it makes him overlook things."

"Like what?" Bobby shifted, elbowing Jesse again. Jesse didn't complain this time. "He have to keep his car keys on a chain around his neck, or something?"

"When he told me to draw the sigil on the barracks wall, he warned me not to contact anyone or tell them about what he was doing. He could see inside my mind, he could tell when I was lying. So I wrote Sam a physical letter instead – and he never even suspected that I'd do such a thing. And later, he reminded me that he would know if I tried to use magic to contact Sam, and that he could feel me if I tried to call out for Sam in my dreams. But I told Sam to contact me instead, and War never knew that anything had happened. I'm certain that he still doesn't know for sure that I'm with you. He hasn't reached out to me in a dream since Dean trapped me."

"The ring focuses his power," Cas said. "It gives him the ultimate advantage in battle – the ability to see the conflict from all vantage points. Without it, he's just a general, commanding an army with the resources available to him. A very experienced one, to be sure, but one who is accustomed to having much more information than he currently has access to."

"So the asshole is used to peeking at everyone's cards, and now he has to play by the rules."

"Something like that." Cas glanced over his shoulder at Jesse. "He worked tirelessly to convince you of his omniscience. He hoped that by frightening you into compliance, his inability to enforce his rules would go undetected."

"Pretty smart," Sam said.

"Yes," Jesse mused, tapping his fingers on his knee. "He's cunning. A strategist. And a damn good actor."

Sam chuckled and Jesse smiled briefly before turning contemplative again.

"So he knows we're rolling into town, but won't expect us to hoof it." Bobby sighed and reached under his seat, pulling out a map of the city. "So what's the smartest way into South Central?"

Sam looked surprised. "How long has that been under there?"

"Since you assumed the position for Lucifer."

Dean grinned.

"Looks like we should follow MLK south 'till we hit fiftieth. There's a lot of cover in case the hellhounds come out to play."

"Yeah, and lots of places for the Grateful Undead to lie in wait for us."

"You got a better plan, Nancy, I'm all ears."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I know."

"I'll scout the area. I should be able to pinpoint War's location and lead you there," Cas said. "After that, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you."

"Whoa, whoa, what?"

"With all of the souls War has taken in, he is now powerful enough to kill an angel. He will try if I get close enough."

"Great timing, Cas," Dean snapped, looking out his side window. "Always there when you need us, aren't you? Can always count on Cas."

"Dean, he'll-"

"It's okay, Cas," Sam said quietly. "Go on ahead. And thanks."

Cas remained for a moment and moved as if to say something more, then disappeared.

Sam sighed. "Dean…"

"Let's just get this over with." He got out and slammed the driver's door shut, walking down the highway. Sam got out and followed him, jogging to catch up.

"C'mon, man-"

"Not now-"

"We need our heads fully in this-"

"My head is always in it."

"What was that back there?"

Dean walked faster. "It was nothing. I was just disappointed, that's all. Is that allowed?"

"Sounded like more than that to me-"

"Then get your ears checked!" Dean shouted. He stopped and whirled to face Sam. "Look, Sam, I'm just fucking sick of this, okay? I thought we were done with the goddam apocalypse! We threw Lucifer back into hell, for Christ's sake! When is this gonna end? And none of this can be good for your wall, or have you forgotten about that? Wouldn't surprise me if you have, since you don't seem to care if it breaks."

"I-"

"And now we have this mother of all shit, and monsters in triplicate, and the fucking antichrist in the back seat, and now Cas is…"

They were silent for a moment.

"Cas is what, Dean?" Sam said. "What?"

Dean fumbled for the words and couldn't find them. "I don't know!" He threw his hands in the air. "I don't know. But I don't like it, all right?"

Sam nodded. "All right," he said. "Fine. But right now, we have to do this. We can't let War screw up everything we've worked for. We can figure out the other stuff later. But let's just…" He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, relieved when Dean didn't shirk from it. "Let's just focus on this, here, now. If we live through this, the other stuff will still be there tomorrow."

Dean shook his head and continued walking, a derisive smile on his face. "Whatever, man. Let's just go. Grab the stakes and the rings and Hell's messiah and let's get the fuck on."


There was a loud buzz, and hell's line moved forward, the man at the front making his way to the end again. Castiel watched him pass, wondering what transgressions had condemned him to hell. Since Raphael had taken control of the souls of heaven, Castiel's access to cosmic information was spotty at best. His helplessness frustrated and angered him, and he scanned the hall for the demon, more anxious than ever to move their plan forward. Three more of his lieutenants had been killed just this week, and if the souls from Purgatory were to be of any use, he would have to get to them soon.

"Home so soon, darling?" The demon appeared before him, looking smug. "Didn't expect you until morning."

"Everything is set."

Crowley looked impressed. "So Holmes and Watson are closing the case, eh?"

"They're on their way." Castiel looked down. "I'm expected back soon."

"Can't let War set his beady eyes on you." Crowley's eyes narrowed. "They aren't suspicious that you're bowing out early?"

"They think War can kill an angel. Dean is frustrated, but complacent."

He chuckled. "You're better at this than you'd like to admit to yourself. At this rate, you could tell them your cock was candy and they'd take turns trying to eat it."

Castiel frowned, confused. "They'd never believe that. It's ridiculous."

Crowley sighed.

"You're sure they'll kill him before he talks?" He dusted something from the lapel of his coat. "I'd hate to have to put the family pets down."

"Sam and Dean have experience fighting such creatures," Castiel said. "Any manipulation attempts on War's part will be summarily dismissed."

"You sure about that?" His tone was only half-mocking.

Castiel tugged on his tie, eyes on the ground.

"Mmm."

Cas looked up, his expression stony. "Make sure War's prison is ready, demon," he said. "If he breaks free, there will be hell to pay. And it won't involve any kind of line."

"Oh, looky. The angel made a joke-"

But he was gone.

"Been hanging around those American blokes too long, Cas." He gazed at the ceiling with a smile. "No manners."


They should have been wary of the bridge.

It came upon them from a crevasse between two chunks of concrete that didn't look large enough to hide a person. It was Sam's height, maybe taller, but less graceful; the thing shambled like a newborn colt with a Charlie horse. The gun's crack echoed in the night as Dean shot at it, missing by a mile and a half. Shit, he thought, trying to focus in the limited light. Shouldn't have missed that. Their supply of silver bullets was limited, and wasted rounds were luxuries they couldn't afford.

Dean was in front, with Bobby and Sam flanking him a few yards back. Jesse hovered in the triangle between them. Dean had insisted on it; he worried that whatever sentries War had posted would try and nab Jesse if they could. Guess that was one thing I didn't need to worry about.

A bronze street light flickered over them, making it nearly impossible to track the thing's movements; it appeared to flicker in and out of existence, and every time the light blinked on it was closer. These things move like death echoes, Dean thought. Be nice if War had stocked the place with them.

Sam let off a round at it, then swore when the light came on again and it was still lurching toward them. There was another loud crack as Bobby put a bullet in the thing's arm, not slowing it down in the slightest.

"Shit!" he shouted. "I'm out!"

"Wait for it to get closer!" Jesse called. "You have to get a head or heart shot!"

Dean and Bobby fired simultaneously, both missing.

"What do you know about zombies, kid?"

"I watch TV!"

Dean started to reply, but suddenly the thing was on him, tackling him to the ground. He got it in the face with the butt of his gun and rolled away before it could get hold of him again. Sam was standing over him before he could turn back around.

"Dean! Left!"

Dean rolled harder to the left as Sam fired, blowing the soldier's corpse off its knees and over the edge of the bridge. The body hit the water below with a loud splash.

Bobby held out his hand. "Close call, son."

"Yeah," Dean said, shaken. He let Bobby pull him to his feet. "He snuck up on me. What the hell kind of mojo is powering these things anyway? Essence of The Grudge?"

"Whatever it is," Sam said, handing Dean the gun he'd dropped, "it's definitely working. We're probably gonna run into a lot more of these things before this show ends."

"Thanks, man." He chuckled. "I owe you a chicken dinner."

Sam grinned, the flickering light giving his face a sinister, funhouse mirror quality. "Make it a steak dinner. Chicken makes me gassy."

It was the fourth one they'd come across. Luckily they'd been lone scouts; they hadn't encountered any organized groups. They reminded Dean of Croats, only in uniform; it seemed War had decided to go all out with the theatrics and use the soldiers' bodies as sentries. They were roughed up pretty badly, too. The hellhounds hadn't wasted any time tearing them apart, and Dean was amazed that the one Sam had just put down had been able to walk. Most of his uniform was completely destroyed, not unlike his body, and one of his arms had dangled precariously throughout the fight.

Dean raised his own shotgun to shoulder height as they ran the rest of the way across the bridge and into the doorway of an abandoned office building. The light above the rotten wood covering the door frame flickered, though not as badly as the street light had; this one stayed on for about thirty seconds before blinking out. They faced outward with their backs to the doors, reloading and checking supply levels.

"Any more?"

Jesse scanned the landscape with impossible speed. "Not right here, but just a few streets over. There are a dozen, maybe more. I can't see any further than that."

"Where the hell is Cas?" Dean griped. "He supposed to be on recon. We need air support."

"Think War got to him?" Sam knelt to tie his shoe.

"Don't even say it. If this thing kills and absorbs Cas, we might as well perform last rites on ourselves."

Bobby rifled through the pack on the ground. "We only got two dozen more silvers, gang. Aim true."

"What the hell possessed us to do this at night?" Dean muttered, digging in another pack for stakes.

"It wouldn't have mattered any," Jesse said. "He's keeping it dark."

Dean tossed him a long, silver stake. "You're gonna need that soon. We're gonna run out of bullets, and we'll have to get up close and personal."

Jesse's eyes shone with excitement. "No problem," he said.

Dean side-eyed him and shot Sam an I-told-you-so look. Sam pretended not to see it.

"You got anything amazing up your sleeve, Jesse?" he asked.

"Nothing like before," he said, somewhat sadly, "but I can hold my own against these things."

"What about the hellhounds?" Dean slung one of the packs over his shoulder. "They'll probably put in an appearance. You got any demonic Beggin' Strips?"

"Don't need 'em," Jesse said with a cold smile.

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see."

"Let's hope not," Sam said, standing. "We ready to keep going?"

"Why postpone the inevitable?" Dean stepped out from under the building's shelter, checking the scene. "Everybody remember the plan?"

"How could we forget? We're gonna get our asses kicked."

Dean grinned. "Cheer up, Bobby. Gotta stay active in your golden years."

Sam turned away from them, shaking his head.

"He's gotta put the ring on first, Jesse, remember."

"I'm not a simpleton. I heard the instructions the first time."

"Hey, why don't you pipe down over there, Dark Prince." Dean pointed the business end of his gun at Jesse. "You do what we tell you, when we tell you, or Christ will enter your heart. Literally."

Jesse's expression vacillated between obstinate and confused.

Sam frowned. "What?"

"Never mind that," Bobby said. "Let's just get moving. Don't seem smart to keep our asses planted for too long."

They crept back out to the thoroughfare, their eyes open as wide as they would go. There were no sounds apart from insects in the trees and bushes and the distant call of police and rescue vehicles. The street lights over here were functional, for the moment at least; Dean had a sneaking suspicion that they would go at just the moment they most needed to see. All the other power in the area is damaged or TKO'd. So why is does the only path we have to take have guiding lights leading us on?

Sam took note of his brother's hesitancy and moved closer so they could talk without attracting unwanted attention. "The lights bugging you?"

Dean sighed. "You think he's settin' us up, too?"

"I'd have to be nuts to think anything else."

"So do we break?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't see what it would solve. He thinks we're driving-"

"Says Cas-"

"And Jesse," Sam reminded him.

Dean lifted his eyebrow. "Circumstantial evidence, Sammy. Speculation."

"It's what we got. I say we stick to the plan. He'll be surprised when we're on foot, he might be surprised when we show up with Jesse, and he'll be surprised by what happens when he puts the ring on."

"Yeah, kind of like Satan was surprised when we showed up with the rings last time."

Sam scowled.

"I still think walking in here is stupid."

"Exactly. It's ridiculous, and it doesn't make much strategic sense."

"You're not winning me over here, Sam."

"This guy lives for war; he is battle. He'll expect us to think like soldiers. He won't expect us to walk in, get our asses kicked, and just hand over the ring in desperation. It'll be like Christmas morning for this guy. He wants revenge so bad for the ring and the apocalypse that he won't even stop to ask himself why it was so easy."

Dean had to admit that what he was saying made sense. Didn't make him like being so vulnerable, though. Even if it is part of the plan.

"Well…here goes nothin', I guess."

"We got this, Dean. It can't be any harder than throwing the devil back down the pit during the apocalypse, can it?"

"Got me there-"

"Shh!" Bobby lowered his gun.

They stopped, each facing a different direction and watching, listening. Dean didn't hear anything at first, but after a while, he picked up on a dull roar in the distance.

"What the hell is that?"

"The people of Riverton."

Cas stood beside Jesse, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Don't worry. There are none of those abominations within a half mile of where we are. I've cleared the way for you."

"'Bout time," Dean said, walking toward him. "Better late than never, I guess."

Cas was grave. "Things have gotten…more complicated."

Sam sighed. "How so?"

"War, he's taken control of the townspeople. Again."

"Like last time? What's he doing with them?"

"Making them fight to the death, in his name. He's reinforcing his power, preparing for your arrival. You will have to be convincing. If he suspects a ruse…"

"You ain't gotta tell us twice," Bobby muttered. "Should be able to skirt a few civvies without too much trouble, though."

"Until they see our ugly mugs," Dean pointed out. "Wonder what we'll look like to them? Demons? Vamps? Dick Cheneys?"

"I might be able to help with that." Jesse appeared in front of Dean, twirling his stake like a baton. He grinned. "I didn't lose all of my tricks, you know."

Sam smiled. "Knew you'd come in handy one day," he said, glancing over at Dean. "I never thought I'd say this, man, but thank God we didn't kill the Antichrist."

"Yeah," Dean said under his breath. "But is it God we should be thanking?"

Jesse tossed the stake into the air, catching it masterfully as it spun downward. Sam watched him a few times, and then tried it himself. The pole clattered loudly when it fell to the ground, and Bobby hit Sam's shoulder with the butt of his gun, telling him to keep it down if he wanted to stay alive. Dean chuckled inwardly; leave it to Sam to find some bright side, even while they were fighting zombies to reach the lair of a horseman of the apocalypse. What the hell would I have done if I couldn't get his soul back? Dean shook his head, pushing the thought away. You did, reminded himself. And that's what's important. It'll hold up. It has to.

"Dean." Cas was speaking clearly enough, but the others didn't seem to hear; Jesse and Sam pretended to spar with the stakes while Bobby kept an eye out.

He turned back and forth between Cas and the others, confused. "What's with them?"

"Dean, listen to me, I can't do this for long. Jesse will try to stop you from giving War the ring once he realizes that Trystane will be killed along with him."

"What? How could he not know?"

"He doesn't, that's what's important." Cas was withholding something, Dean could tell, but there wasn't time to get into it now. "He thinks Trystane can be saved, and when he learns that you plan to kill him, he won't respond mildly."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Which means?"

Cas disappeared and reappeared, holding the chunk of wood. "You must not let War get to the Beast before the ring, Dean. No matter what."

He took it, turning it over in his hands, and swallowed. "Understood."

Cas seemed relieved.

"Can we? Save him, I mean, the other guy, Trystane. Is there any way?"

Cas' gaze was one of remarkable intensity, and Dean was reminded of their early times together, before Cas knew about personal space and social norms. It struck him how far they had come since those days, even though only a year and some change had passed. God, how things have changed, he thought with a touch of nostalgia.

And then the moment was broken, and whatever had been running though Cas' mind was finished. "No," he said, his expression solemn and convicted. "He must be destroyed. There is no way to save the vessel."

Dean nodded. "Never is, is there?"

"I'm sorry."

"Just rotten luck. Without that, we'd have no luck at all." Dean slipped the wooden stake inside of his jacket, making sure it was concealed. "We're getting' pretty close here. You gotta skidaddle yet?"

"I can go a bit farther with you," Cas said. His words had a gravitas the Dean found a bit excessive for the situation, but what were you gonna do? This stuff in heaven must be worse than he's tellin' us. "Another mile or so. But after that, I'm afraid our paths will have to diverge."

Dean raised his eyebrows, gesturing south. "Onward and forward," he said. "After you."

Sam was the first to notice them again, and he seemed to sense that something had happened while he wasn't looking. Dean gave him a quick not-now shake of the head, and Sam shrugged and gave a noncommittal head toss.

They walked south, guns set to fire and stakes at the ready, and Dean was the only one to notice the last of the sirens fall silent.


Thanks for sticking with this fic, everyone! The next chapter is the last one, with the final showdown with the Big Bad. Comments = love!