Crowley signalled to the barman to refill his glass and sighed. It had been a long, fruitless day.

"You look thoroughly fed up," a voice said in a familiar Irish brogue. He looked up.

"Lucien," he said. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't," Lucien said. "I just happened to be here." Crowley gave him a skeptical look and the redhead shrugged. "But I am glad I ran into you." He idly pulled back the leather duster he was wearing to reveal a Colt revolver at his waist. The Colt.

Crowley whistled in surprise. "Where did you find that?" he gasped.

"It seems Bela was more than a little careless about who she promised this lovely weapon to," Lucien told him. "She promised it to Lilith, and apparently she also promised it to a friend of mine. On top of that, she also promised it to a human artifact collector in Hong Kong. Apparently she thought demons were easier to fool than humans, because she gave it to the human. Man by the name of Lee Wang. I convinced him to give it to me."

"Oh?" Crowley said curiously. "How?"

"I offered him immortality. In my service, of course, but my demands are not onerous."

"So, you have the Colt. What do you want from me?"

"An exchange," Lucien said. "The Colt for the Shadow Blade."

Crowley eyed him for a moment. "What do you know about that thing anyway?"

"The Blade itself was made in Athens, long before the birth of Christ," Lucien said. "The story goes that a weaponsmith whose name is lost to history, made the Blade in exchange for the life of his daughter. She was dying of some disease and all the healers of the day had given up hope. He made a deal to make the Blade and his daughter was healed. It's said the Blade can enslave the hearts of men, but that eventually it consumes them."

"Who made this deal?" Crowley asked. "A demon? I've never heard this story before."

"I don't know," Lucien admitted. "The demigod who told me this story wouldn't say."

"A demigod?" Crowley said, a dark suspicion forming in his mind. "One of the Norse gods, perhaps?"

Lucien laughed merrily. "I should know better than to underestimate you! Yes, if you must know, one of the Aesir. And that's the interesting thing. He says that three archangels trapped a being inside the Blade. That entity was the one who commissioned the Blade in the first place."

"Why is that interesting?" Crowley asked, feigning boredom.

"Because of the reason they did it," Lucien said. "They trapped it inside the Blade because it was threatening the bloodlines of the Winchesters."

Crowley inhaled his Scotch and choked. "What?"

"I know," Lucien said. "Insane, isn't it?"

"When you say threatening the bloodlines, what do you mean?"

"Whatever this thing is, it's powerful. And it managed to prevent certain ancestors from meeting when they were supposed to. The angels had to scramble to fix everything. And now, you've let it out."

"Not my problem," Crowley said idly. Inside, his mind was racing. This was bad.

"So, here's the deal. Give me the Blade, and I'll give you the Colt. Nobody need ever know what really happened."

"Why would you do that?" Crowley said suspiciously. "What's in it for you?"

"I need that Blade," Lucien said. "I have my own battles and that Blade can hurt the one I'm fighting. Not much else can."

"You're smart," Crowley told him. "Self-interest's a motive I can believe. All right, you've got yourself a deal. Come over to the house I just… acquired. We can settle things there." He gave Lucien an appreciative glance up and down. "And anything else you fancy." Lucien grinned at him.

Balthazar twirled a chopstick idly through his fingers and grinned when Cas gave him an irritated glance.

"Why won't you take this seriously?" Cas asked.

"I am," Balthazar told him. "But you have to admit, it is sort of funny."

"I don't see how," Cas said icily.

"Well, Uriel always was the funniest angel in the garrison." Cas flinched and Balthazar leaned forward. "Uriel's dead, eight other angels from your garrison are dead and Zachariah is breathing down my neck to find out what happened. On top of that, the Shadow Blade reappears in a barn in the countryside, and then just as mysteriously disappears."

"Uriel was supposed to deliver it to Michael," Cas said. "Did he not do that?"

"No," Balthazar said deliberately. "He did not. He gave it to Lucifer."

Cas gasped in horror. "Surely Lucifer wouldn't release… the inhabitant?"

"Perhaps not, but I don't know what he was thinking. He passed the Blade off to a lower ranked demon in Lilith's legion. Funny little fucker called Crowley."

Cas looked contemptuous. "We've met. Long ago."

"Yeah, well, snivelling little snake has it now. And as far as I can tell, he had no idea what a poisoned chalice his master has given him." Balthazar raked a hand through his hair. "This is a total clusterfuck, Cas."

"Keep your voice down," Cas hissed, looking around the busy restaurant nervously. "Why we had to meet here is beyond me."

"I like Chinese food. Sue me." Balthazar said.

"You sound like Gabriel," Cas said wistfully. "I wish he were here now."

"Gabriel?" Balthazar said, sounding startled. "What made you think of him after all this time?"

"I don't know," Cas admitted. "I've never stopped missing him. I just feel like things would be better if he hadn't left."

"Do you think he's still alive?"

"I don't know," Cas said heavily. "I'd like to think he wouldn't stay hidden with everything that's going on."

"Well, I have to be getting back," Balthazar announced. "Michael's getting very antsy about the whole rise of Lucifer thing. There are whispers of angels switching sides. These murders just add grist to the mill. So anyone who spends too long on earth is getting a lot of scrutiny."

"Are they saying that about me?" Cas fretted. "I've been here for some time now."

"No," Balthazar admitted. "Everyone knows you're the protector of Michael's vessel. I think that gets you off the hook." He peered at Cas. "His Guardian angel, in fact." He whistled. "When did that happen?"

"Dean was dying and refusing to let me help him. Uriel made me Dean's guardian so that I could heal him. On Joshua's orders."

Balthazar looked thunderstruck. "Joshua's orders?"

"Yes."
"Does that mean He's coming back?"

"I don't know," Cas said. He gave Balthazar a small smile. "I hope so."

Dean whimpered in his sleep and Cas couldn't help himself, reaching out and fitting his hand over the mark on Dean's shoulder. He calmed down immediately at Cas's touch and smiled.

"Cas," he muttered, the warmth in his voice making the angel's cheeks heat. Cas snatched his hand away. He shouldn't be doing this. But he'd never encountered a soul like Dean's before, so shining and bright it blinded him. A little awe at the beauty of his father's creation was entirely appropriate but he knew deep within him that this was not such reverence. He wondered if inhabiting this fleshly vessel was corrupting him. Dean rolled over and the covers slid off his hip, leaving his body almost completely bare except for his boxer shorts. Cas's mouth went dry and his fingers twitched. Before he could even register the thought, he stepped closer to the bed and reached out to touch that warm, male skin. Blood pounded in his ears.

"Castiel!" The angel turned around in shock to see a narrow-eyed Zachariah standing by the car door. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Watching over my charge," Cas retorted. He felt dizzy.

"Really?" Zachariah drawled. "Come with me, now. It seems we have much to discuss." He vanished and Cas clenched his fists. This was not good.

Dean watched his brother brushing his teeth and leaning against the hood of the car. He looked out over the lake they'd stopped at last night to catch a few hours sleep. It was still, almost unnaturally so.

"You OK?" Sam said indistinctly through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Yeah," he lied. "I'm starving. Let's get breakfast."

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Where? We're like two hours from anything."

"But I'm hungry now," Dean whined.

"There's probably still a sandwich on the back seat," Sam told him. He rinsed out his mouth with a bottle of water. Dean rubbed a hand over his face and reached through the open back window, pulling out a paper bag. He opened it and sniffed and then pulled a face.

"It's tuna," he complained.

The quiet air was split by the shrill tone of a cellphone ringing inside the car. Dean tossed the paper bag back through the window and leaned in through the front window, rummaging in the glove compartment until finally he located the ringing phone. As he pulled his head out, he hit his head on the roof and yelped in pain. He glared at the phone.

"Isn't that Dad's phone?" Sam said curiously.

Dean flipped open the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"Uh, is this John?" a male voice asked. There was something vaguely familiar about it.

"He can't come to the phone," Dean said shortly. "Can I help you?"

"No no no—I really—I need to talk to John," the voice said. "This is Adam Milligan. He knows me."

"Well, sorry to be the one to break this to you, pal, but John died more than two years ago," Dean said callously. He wasn't in the mood for the softly-softly approach this morning. Sam pulled a face at him. Adam gasped. "Who is this?" Dean added.

"I'm his son," Adam said. Dean almost dropped the phone and Sam grabbed it out of his hands.

"Hi there, sorry, umm, what did you say your name was again?"

"You sure we should do this?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said heavily. He stared at Adam's body, lying on the pyre and wrapped in sheets. "It doesn't make any difference. Nothing I do makes any difference. I don't care what Chuck says." He squirted a bottle of lighter fluid over the pyre. "Adam was our brother. He died like a hunter. He deserves to go out like one."

"Maybe we can bring him back. Get a hold of Cas, call in a favor."

"No. This isn't the end for Adam, unless things start changing." Dean lit a match and tossed it on the pyre. Flames engulfed Adam's body and Dean stared at it for a while.

"You know, this was when I finally figured out why you and Dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person." Dean said finally. Sam turned to look at him. "I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. This-" he waved a hand vaguely when words failed him. "This made me see it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sam said, his voice catching.

"You take it any way you want," Dean said. "I'm not sure it is one."

He watched the flames for a while.

"Dean, what do you mean? You said unless things start changing," Sam probed.

"So far, a lot has panned out like last time," Dean said softly. "I mean, there are differences. The biggest one was stopping the raising of Samhain, but in the end we still seem to be on the same road. Lilith's still breaking seals left and right and we're scrambling to keep up. What's the point? The final seal is the big one, and I can't stop you breaking that one if you won't listen to me."

"It's not that I don't listen," Sam objected. "It's just hard to believe. Why would Lilith break these seals if she knew?"

"I don't know. Maybe she doesn't know," Dean said.

"I don't know either," Sam said.

"It doesn't matter," Dean replied. "You're going to kill her and it seems like I can't stop you."

"Dean…"

"No, Sam. This is what I mean. Dad would get an idea in his head, especially if it was about revenge and you could not talk him out of it. Even if you showed him he was on the wrong path."

"Maybe you're more like Dad than you think," Sam said sourly. "You're so convinced that you've lived through this before, that you know what's going to happen. But you haven't been right every time. You didn't seem to know much about Chuck. And the siren, that was new, right?"

"Uhh-"

"Son of a bitch," Sam breathed. "You lied about remembering that one? Why?"

"I didn't lie," Dean said. "I just… remembered it differently."

"How?" Sam demanded. "What was different this time?"

Dean swallowed. "Nothing. I… blotted it out, I think. Until it was too late."

"I wonder why," Sam said sarcastically.

"So, what do we know?" Crowley demanded. Frat boy Maxwell handed him a book and a scroll. Crowley glanced at the book and then tossed it on the table. "Summarize, man!"

"Not much," Maxwell admitted. "Zila is an Arabic word. It means 'shadow'. According to Zila, she's been in the Shadow Blade for centuries. Put there by Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, sometime after Lucifer's fall."

"I don't like it," Crowley said. "I hate not knowing things. What is she? Is she a she?"

"Where is she now?" Maxwell asked. Crowley gave a shrug. "She left?"

"I was unable to convince her to stay." That stung really. But she radiated power and Crowley didn't get where he was today by pissing off powerful entities.

"And the Blade?" Maxwell asked.

"It's still dangerous to anything of the mortal plane," Crowley said. "It's poisonous ability changed since Zila left."

"Changed how?" Maxwell said.

"Seems to act slower. Humans cut or stabbed with the knife become like zombies. The wielder of the knife controls them. Hard to say when or even if they will die."

"There are easier ways to enslave humans," Maxwell said dismissively.

"True," Crowley agreed. "I got bored of it, to be honest. Swapped it for something more fun."

Dean leaned back and let the sun warm his face for a moment. It was so peaceful here, a man could fish, relax, maybe drink a beer or two. He turned towards the cooler by his feet and pulled out a beer. It was icy cold and he quickly twisted off the top and chugged half the bottle in one go. Perfection.

"We need to talk," a familiar voice said. Dean turned towards the angel.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"It's not safe here," Cas told him. "Someplace more private." The angel looked shifty and unhappy.

"More private? We're inside my head." Dean pointed out.

"Exactly. Someone could be listening." Cas replied.

"Cas, what's wrong?"

"Meet me here," Cas said, handing him a slip of paper. "Go now."

"Wait," Dean said. "I remember this. Cas, you're in danger. Last time-" he broke off. Cas had gone.

Dean eyed Jimmy as he practically inhaled the hamburger they'd bought him. He was making little grunts of pleasure as he ate. Dean shifted uncomfortably and he could see Sam out of the corner of his eye looking slightly disturbed.

"You mind slowing down? You're gonna give me angina." Dean said.

"I'm hungry," Jimmy said defensively.

"When's the last time you ate?" Sam asked him.

"I don't know," Jimmy replied through a mouthful of food. "Months." He continued making little pleasurable noises as he ate. Dean felt vaguely nauseous.

"What the hell happened back there? It looked like an angel battle royale." Sam pressed.

Jimmy shrugged. "All I remember is a flash of light and I, uh . . . I woke up and I was just, you know, like, me again."

"Cas got called back to Heaven," Dean said heavily.

"I really don't know." Jimmy said. He cast a long look at Dean then returned his attention to his meal.

"You remember anything about being possessed? Anything at all?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head but Sam ignored him.

"Yeah, bits and pieces. I mean, angel inside of you, it's kinda like being chained to a comet."

"Ah, that doesn't sound like much fun," Dean commented.

"Understatement," Jimmy said with a roll of his eyes. And then another of those sidelong glances.

"Cas said he wanted to tell us something. Please tell me you remember that."

"Sorry," Jimmy said.

"Sam," Dean said, getting up and pointing his chin towards the bathroom. Sam nodded and followed Dean in there. Dean closed the door.

"Cas got recalled to Heaven. He's in big trouble right now."

"Shit," Sam said with feeling. "So what do we do?"

"Last time, Jimmy made a break for it, went back to his family. Demons everywhere, and his daughter Claire possessed by Cas for a while. It was a mess."

"OK," Sam said. "So we keep him away from his family. He's probably not going to like it, but we'll figure something out." Dean looked away and Sam leaned back, folding his arms.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We need Cas back," Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But I don't see the Hamburglar out there being willing to be his vessel again. You heard what he said."

"I heard," Dean said. He looked down at the floor.

"Dean?" Sam said warningly. "Dean, we can't force him to take Cas back."

"I know that," Dean defended. "I just…"

"Just nothing," Sam said. "We keep him safe."

Back in the motel room, Jimmy had moved on to the French fries.

"So, Jimmy," Sam said cautiously. "I know you're desperate to get back to your family. But, it's really not a good idea."

"Why not?" Jimmy said indignantly. "Damn it, haven't I given enough?"

"Yeah, no totally," Sam agreed. "But if you want to keep them safe, you have to stay away."

"For how long?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "The demons will want to get their hands on an angel vessel."

"But I don't know anything," Jimmy objected. And the sidelong look at Dean.
"Hey, Sam," Dean interjected. "Why don't you go get us some cold sodas from the lobby?" Sam narrowed his eyes at him for a moment and then nodded and left the room. Jimmy eyed Dean uncertainly.

"OK, spit it out," Dean said.

"What?" Jimmy said, attempting to look confused. He wasn't very good at it.

"The strange looks. Come on, something's up."

"All right," Jimmy said. "It's about you and Castiel." He looked down at his shoes. "I- remember what you said to him. And I know how he feels about it."

"That's pretty cryptic," Dean said, a cold feeling in his gut. Jimmy looked up with a strange expression on his face.

"You told him you were in love with him," he said baldly. "He's very conflicted about it."

Dean choked in horror. "I don't know if I want to hear any more," he said, backing away.

"Tough cookies," Jimmy said. "I wasn't going to say anything, but you brought it up. He's an angel. Such a liaison is forbidden. In fact, just feeling the things he's feeling, he should have reported the problem to Heaven months ago and gotten reassigned."

"Oh," Dean said lamely.

"Oh indeed," Jimmy said. "Remember this is my body he's in. Or was. And you want to stuff him back in here, so you can have your lover back."

"He's not my-"

Jimmy waved him off. "It doesn't matter. It's not going to happen. I'm done. And even if I wasn't, I am not OK with this."

"Shit," Dean said. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. I didn't think."

"Quite," Jimmy said acidly. "I have a wife, whom I love. And I am straight." Dean couldn't look at him. "Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole. But I am going back to my life. Castiel can find another vessel."

"Jimmy, you can't," Dean objected. "I told you, you'd be putting your family in danger."

"Danger," Jimmy scoffed. "Just watch me." He turned towards the door and Dean grabbed his arm.

"I mean it," Dean said.

"Take your hands off me," Jimmy said in a low, angry voice. He fought against Dean's hold but the hunter was stronger and held on easily. He dragged Jimmy closer to snarl in his face and Jimmy stared at him, his mouth dropping open. Dean blinked in surprise as the irritated man's pupils enlarged and his gaze dropped to Dean's mouth. Maybe Jimmy wasn't as straight as he made out. They just stood there in that suspended moment and then Sam knocked at the door, breaking the spell.

Dean let Jimmy go and opened the door. Sam looked warily at the visibly distressed Jimmy and slightly shell-shocked looking Dean.

"Uh… I might have something I need to do," Sam said hesitantly, holding out two soda cans. "Like, right now…"

"It's fine," Dean said. "We're done."

"OK," Sam said slowly. "So what's the plan?"

"We take Jimmy to Bobby's," Dean said. "Then we can figure out our next move."

"Fine," Jimmy said sullenly.