"It's here, somewhere, I know it," Sam sighed, clearly frustrated. The four had fruitlessly been searching for an hour in the boy's grandfather's old haunt, hoping to find his hidden hunter research. "Help me move this."
Sam and Bobby pushed an old oak desk into the corner of the stuffy room before Sam dropped to all fours searching the floor. "Sam?" I asked, slightly concerned for his mental wellbeing.
"Got it…got it," he grunted, pulling up a strip of leather which opened a trapdoor underneath where Samuel would have sat at his desk.
"I'll be damned," Bobby muttered, exchanging a look with Dean.
The ladder led to a dingy cellar-type room with old bookshelves lining the walls and filing cabinets to her left; in size, the room was about ten feet long and twenty-ish feet wide. "Welcome to the Campbell family library," Sam said sarcastically as her feet touched the floor.
"So," Dean said, staring at old photographs taped to the wall, "Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?"
"Apparently," Sam responded, looking around.
"Alright…so, what are we looking for exactly?" Dean asked.
"Well, anything that'll put a run in octomom's stockings," Bobby explained. "Pick a row."
Sighing, Emily picked a stack of books and sat down at the cheap, metal table; Dean quickly sat down next to her. About ten minutes into their study session, she swung her legs into Dean's lap, reclining against the arm of her chair. "Hey!" he exclaimed, holding up his book.
"What?" she asked innocently before looking down at her book.
Dean sighed heavily, returning to his book; a small grin spread across her lips.
What seemed like hours later, Bobby asked, "You jokers ever heard anything about a phoenix?"
"River, Joaquin, or the giant flaming bird?" Dean asked, grinning. She and Sam exchanged a knowing look.
"It says here," Bobby continued, "that the ashes of a phoenix can burn the mother."
"Great. Where do we get one?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "You got me. I thought it was a myth."
"Yeah, well…let's see if we can find anything about a phoenix," Sam said, a sense of finality to his voice.
Reluctantly, Emily lifted her legs so Dean could get more books. "Bring me some?" she requested.
"Get up and get 'em yourself," he grunted, pulling a few off a shelf.
"But I'm so comfortable," she moaned, stretching her legs over his chair. "Please." Sighing, he dropped a second pile of books in front of her. "YES! Thank you, Dean," she grinned, saying the last bit in a sing-song voice and picked up a new volume.
He grunted a reply, thudding down in his chair, picking up one of his own books. "Guys! Check this out!" he exclaimed suddenly, sitting up strait. "March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a phoenix today. Left a pile of smoldering ash."
"Really?" Sam asked skeptically. "Whose gun?"
Smug grin on his face, Dean replied, "Colt's."
"Colt?" Sam asked, surprised. "Colt, like–"
"Like the Colt," Dean supplied. "From…" he held up the book, "Samuel Colt's Journal."
"What?! That's his?" Sam asked incredulously. "Dude, no."
"Dude yes."
"Lemme see!" Sam and Emily said simultaneously.
Dean eyes the two warily, pulling the book to his chest. "Get your own!"
"Well, what else did he say about the phoenix?" Bobby asked. "What's it look like? Has it got feathers?"
"It just says phoenix."
"So I guess we gotta find one of our own, whatever it is."
"I know where we can find one," Dean said, cocky grin spreading across his face.
"Well, spit it out," she urged.
"March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. We'll Star Trek 4 this bitch."
"I only watched Deep Space 9," Bobby grunted.
"It's like I don't even know you guys anymore," Dean said, hurt look in his eyes.
"Seriously though," Emily cut in. "Star Trek 4, Save the Whales?"
"Thank you!" Dean exclaimed while Bobby and Sam exchanged confused glances. "Okay," Dean explained. "We hop back in time, find Samuel Colt, hunt the phoenix, and then we haul the ashes back home with us."
"Time travel," Bobby said skeptically. "That's a reasonable plan?"
"We got a guy who can swing it."
"Castiel," she said, earning strange looks from her three companions.
"How do you know?" Sam asked.
"I, uh…met an angel or two. Doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter?" Dean exclaimed. "What were their names?"
"Dean, it doesn't matter," she insisted. "Can you drop it?"
"Just call Cas," Sam butted in.
"Right." She tried not to notice the faint glare in Dean's cheeks as he stood up and closed his eyes. "Castiel. The, uh, fate of the world is in the balance…so, come on down here." When he didn't show, Dean continued, "Come on, Cas. I Dream of Jeannie your ass down here pronto. Please." With a sudden rush of feathers, a woman was standing in the corner of the room. "Jeannie?" Dean asked hesitantly.
"Rachel," she corrected. "I understand you need some assistance. How can I help you?"
"Well, uh," Dean raised his eyebrows, "we kind of need to talk to the Big Kahuna."
"I'm here on Castiel's behalf."
"Where's he?" Sam asked.
"Busy," she snapped.
"Busy?"
"Yes."
"Well," Dean continued, "we've got a line on the mother of freaking everything, so–"
"I'm sure your issue is very important," I raised my eyebrows at Sam, "but Castiel is currently commanding an army, so–"
"So we get stuck with Miss Moneypenny."
"So you need to learn your place."
"Look, I don't know who you think you are–" Dean began.
"I'm his friend."
"What, you think we're not?" Sam asked.
"I think you call him when you need something," she glared. "We're fighting a war."
"We get that–" Sam started.
"Clearly, you don't, or you wouldn't call him every time you stub your toe, you petty, entitled little pieces of–" I stood up, pushing my chair back, ready to slam her head through a wall.
"Rachel." Castiel was suddenly standing behind her. "That's enough."
"I told you I'd take care of this," she said gently.
"It's alright, you can go," he dismissed.
"You're staying–"
"Go. I'll come when I can." With an angry flap of wings, she was gone.
"Friend of yours?" Dean asked, gesturing to where she had been.
"Yes. She's, uh, my lieutenant. She's…committed to the cause. Now, what do you need?"
As Dean explained their situation, she sat down again, folding her arms across her chest and reclining in the chair. Dean, picking up on her discomfort, placed a hand on her shoulder as he continued to show Castiel the journal. "I can do that," Castiel stated after he had heard their situation.
"Good! Em and I'll go get supplies, and you can ride back with Sam and Bobby."