Chapter 9 – Whose Line Is It, Anyway?

Castiel had been restless ever since he and Paul had had their discussion. If Cas had been a human, he would probably be having trouble sleeping, or eating. Since he did neither, he'd stepped up his efforts to help as many humans as possible. Quebec, Ecuador, Indonesia, Tel Aviv...all over the globe.

Throughout his travels, though, the Angel had discovered a troubling trend. For every hundred humans who had been taking care of their neighbours, there were a half dozen who had absolutely no interest in kindness, or altruism. Those individuals had been slowly migrating South, to join Vincent's cult. Castiel wasn't worried about them. Soon, the new Babylon was going to suffer the same fate as the ancient one had.

What did concern Cas were the people who were holding themselves out to be prophets, and the humans who performed good deeds for rewards. He had dispatched some of those, but Castiel had to remind himself that his mission now was primarily one of mercy. After all, as the Bible said: "Satan's servants masquerade as servants of righteousness. Their end will be what their actions deserve."

Vincent gave not one flying fig about his globe-trotting, sanctimonious son-in-law; not at the moment. He was whiling away the time until Gail arrived. Of course Vincent knew she was coming: what was he, dumb, or something? That was why he'd been largely inactive up to now.

So, until his daughter got there, the Voodoo Priest had been playing the big shot, welcoming the people that were trickling in. They had no electricity, Vincent had to admit, but the new arrivals were going to have a fantastic time here. He could guarantee it. The weather was mild even throughout the winter, there was plenty of booze and gambling games, and sex was highly encouraged. There were no rules here, none at all. If people couldn't enjoy themselves in New Babylon, it would be their own damn fault. And for those people with darker desires, there were regular blood rituals on the beach. What more could they possibly want?

Nearly every one of his new arrivals agreed, immersing themselves into cult activities immediately. The stupid fools had no idea how cushy they had it here. Well, until he would need them to die, of course. But, hey, people were dying all over, weren't they? At least these suckers could have fun, in the meantime.

There was the occasional one that really pissed him off, though. Take Yadier, for example. The guy had made his way there from some third-world, grass-hut, mud-eating village somewhere below the equator, but apparently, paradise wasn't good enough for him. Yada Yada Yadier, which was Abbadon's amusing nickname for the guy, fancied himself a scholar. Which was no big deal, in and of itself. There was nothing wrong with a little stimulating conversation in-between depravities. But Yada Yada Yadier liked to debate, which was just a fancy term for arguing. The guy was pretentious, too. If he had been a gorgeous blonde instead of a short, stocky man with a porn 'stache, Vincent might have shrugged it off.

But now Yadier was at it again, spouting his idea of Biblical theology poolside.

"The Bible says: 'If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised'," the scholar said to those who were gathered around.

"So what? What does that mean?" said one of the women.

"Don't you get it?" Yadier replied. Of course they don't, he thought to himself. If there was one person here who had even half of his IQ, he would eat his straw hat. But that was OK. Yadier liked to show off his knowledge. "It means, if Papa Legba calls on the dead to fight the war, he's going to get the saints, as well as the sinners. So where's our tactical advantage?"

Vincent had been in one of the cabanas, listening idly to the conversation. But when he heard Yadier say that, Papa's interest level rose. Most of the newbies murmured excitedly about Armies of the Undead being called forth by the Voodoo Priest, to slay one-third of mankind. That seemed pretty cool and badass to Vincent, so he'd let it stand. However, it sounded to him now as if Yada Yada was starting to pull on some threads. Thread-pulling led to doubt, and doubt led to dissension. Who the hell needed that?

"That's an interesting interpretation," the Voodoo Priest said casually, emerging from the cabana, drink in hand. Most of the people around the pool sat up a little straighter, and a couple of them even gasped at his sudden appearance. "Wrong, but interesting."

"But, Vincent-" Yadier started to say, and Vincent's free hand curled into a fist. There were very few of his acolytes he allowed to address him so informally.

Oblivious, Yadier continued, "The passage goes on to say, and I quote: 'And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless, and so is your faith'."

"What's your point, asshole?" Vincent said nastily. "Anybody can quote anything. I don't know why you're talking about the Bible, anyway. Around here, we use that for toilet paper."

Yadier was so caught up in his own little world of academia that he had failed to notice the change in Vincent's demeanour. Therefore, he went on: "My point is that the prophecy clearly states that this whole thing is meaningless, unless the saints arise with the sinners."

Vincent hurled his drinking glass at Yadier's head. It shattered, cutting the idiot on the nose. Too bad; he'd been aiming for Yadier's eyes.

"I'll tell you what's meaningless!" Vincent shouted. "Your existence!" He snapped his fingers, and Yadier's flesh melted from his bones, forming an amorphous puddle beneath the deck chair he had been sitting on.

The followers who were gathered around the pool fell silent. Vincent grinned; that was more like it. "Anybody else got any quotes to lay on me?" he asked, looking from one ashen face to another. Silence. "Good," the Voodoo Priest said cheerfully. He pointed to the woman who had challenged Yadier. "You - uh, what's your name again? Starts with an 'i', right?"

"Iris," she said, smiling.

"Iris. Yeah. Great," Vincent responded, nodding. "Get a couple of guys to help you clean that up, then bring me another drink."

The girl practically jumped out of her chair, pleased that Papa had singled her out. She was glad that guy Yadier was gone. He'd been nothing but an ugly bore, anyway.

Quite a few individuals had been thinking about the current state of the world, and how things would look in the future. Sam had been mulling over the latter question as he and Dean neared the state of Florida. Was this it, now? All these years, he'd been under the impression that the Armageddon they'd foiled several times now would have been the End of Times. Then Lucifer broke free from the cage, and once again, it had seemed like they were screwed. But, even though the price of Lucifer's demise had been the ultimate one, they had once again come through the ordeal. "Is this how God intended the end of the world to be, all along?" Sam mused out loud. "Not with a bang, but with a whimper? What's the quote? 'The last enemy to be destroyed is Death'."

"I wouldn't say that out loud, if I were you," Dean wisecracked, looking around them. "He could be watching us, right now."

Sam shook his head slowly. "You must be losing your touch. I said the word 'bang', and you didn't have a smartass remark to make."

Dean grinned. "Dammit! You got me, there. Well, seeing as my girlfriend is miles and miles away and yours is even further, I'd better just go with: 'Let's eat, drink, and be merry, because tomorrow, we die'." He smirked at his younger brother. "See? I can quote stuff, too."

"Where's that quote from?" Sam teased him. "The Princess Bride?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "Shut up, Sam," he finally said.

Sam decided to let Dean have the last word, this time.

Iris had been helpful in more ways than one. Vincent lay contentedly on his bed in the cabana, having dismissed his follower a few minutes prior.

For all his earlier bluster, Vincent admitted to himself now that he actually did like some parts of the Bible. The verses that weren't too preachy were either awesome in their violent imagery, or short and to the point. One of his particular favourites was from the latter category: "What you sow does not come to life unless it dies."

Now, what kind of a Voodoo Priest would he be if he didn't believe that? He grabbed the necklace from the nightstand, putting it around his neck. "Soon," he said to the vial full of ashes at the end of the gold chain. Then he began to get dressed for that evening's ritual.

There were a group of a few dozen people in Frank's settlement who liked to meet every day for Bible studies, and they had been inviting him and Jody to attend for a while. Finally, Jody told Ann, who was the informal leader of the group, that she and Frank would drop by Ann's house that evening.

"Why are we doing this, Babe?" Frank grumbled as he and his wife walked the several blocks to Ann's house. He waved back at all the people who greeted the couple along the way. Rob and Suzanne had joked that their parents were like the President and First Lady of the place. All teasing aside, the two of them were regarded by everyone in their community as the leaders of the settlement. Need to find out about home schooling? Ask Frank and Jody. Want to learn how to keep your fireplace clean? Go see Frank.

"Because, like everybody else who doesn't know you very well, those people look up to you," Jody needled her husband.

Frank laughed. If there was ever any danger of him getting a swelled head, he could always trust his family to bring him back down to earth. He knew he was lucky to have his own family with him, happy and healthy. Frank had heard a lot of very sad stories from people who had come to the area from all over, who hadn't been nearly as fortunate.

The only real dark spot was the kerfuffle about Cas, and Frank's concern for Gail. Jody and Frank now knew about Cas's conversation with Paul, at least as far as their sister and brother-in-law were concerned. Paul had promised Castiel not to divulge the real reason Cas had killed Carolyn and Mike, but the young Angel had ended up confiding in Frank, nonetheless. In return, Paul had asked for Frank's discretion. Naturally, Frank had told Jody about it, eliciting the same promise from her.

There was only one other person the couple told. They'd thought that Barry should be informed, so that he could decide what to tell the kids. Ilene was a little older now, and Peter deserved to know the truth about his parents' deaths.

Aside from their little group, they had told no one else, per Cas's wishes. Frank loved his brother-in-law, and just as important, he respected him. When Gail's brother had first found out about the incident at the barn, his first thought had been that there had to be some kind of misunderstanding. Guys like Cas didn't just up and kill innocent humans, out of the blue. But because Cas had taken off right after delivering Barry and Peter to what remained of their little family, Frank had never gotten the chance to find out Cas's side of the story.

The question remained, though: what about Gail? Frank knew his sister better than anyone, so he hadn't been particularly surprised to hear from Paul that she was heading to the Caribbean to have it out with Vincent. Frank's sister was as stubborn as a herd of mules and as vicious as a honey badger when she wanted to be. However, Frank didn't believe for one second that Cas was going to let Gail storm in there all alone. Paul had said that Cas was helping humans all around the world, but that he and Gail had had some kind of a spat. That was too bad, but Frank shrugged it off. The Angels argued every once in a while, but Cas would have his wife's back when it counted. Frank was sure of it.

In the meantime, it looked like Frank was playing politics again. He supposed Jody was right: it wasn't a bad idea for him to get to know the residents of his settlement a little better. It was much easier to help and support your neighbour when you knew who they were. Except for the occasional squabble here and there, the community that had grown around Frank's family home was run by decent people, and fuelled by kindness.

"I hope these guys don't expect me to know any Bible verses," Frank said to his wife. "Do they know we're related to Angels?"

Jody shrugged. "Beats me. Don't worry, Pookie, we won't stay long. Just long enough not to be rude."

Frank was silent for a moment, but then, he stopped in his tracks. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "I DO know a Bible quote!"

"You do?" Jody remarked in surprise. "What is it? Where's it from?"

She'd meant which book the quote was from, but her husband misunderstood her. "Gabriel," he replied, but then, Frank hesitated. "Uh...right. Maybe I shouldn't use that one. He quoted it at a bachelor party. I don't even know if it's real, or if he made it up."

"What is it?" Jody asked her husband, intrigued.

Frank's mouth twitched with amusement as he struck a dramatic pose: "'Time is short. From now on, those who have wives should live as if they had none.'"

Jody's mouth was open, and then, she laughed. "Considering the source, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she remarked. "But, you're right. This group is probably not where you want to debut that quote."

Frank's smile faded. "Why, are they Bible-thumpers, or something?"

Jody was still grinning. "No, but most of the men have wives who can kick your ass."

Her husband thought about that for a second. "Yeah, but...wouldn't you step in and defend me?" he asked her.

"Are you kidding? If you used that quote, I'd probably have to lead the pack," Jody replied good-naturedly.

Frank smiled, taking Jody's hand. Screw electricity and gadgets, he thought. This was the key to happiness, right here.

They walked on.

Barry was sitting in the easy chair in Frank and Jody's living room, drinking a warm beer. Yuk. He made a face every time he took a sip; but he kept on drinking it. The smell and the taste of beer reminded Barry of his husband. Barry had been the wine and cognac connoisseur of the two, whereas Tommy's tastes were a little more...pedestrian. "As long as it's cold and has alcohol in it, I'll drink it," Barry's Tom-Tom used to say, and Barry would roll his eyes. Whenever he'd tried to convert his husband to a more discerning palate, Tommy would just shrug. Those kinds of things didn't matter to him.

Maybe his husband had a point, Barry thought with a wistful sense of nostalgia. After all, just look at the state of the world now. Such things as sommeliers and gourmet meals were things of the past.

Barry had talked to Peter and Ilene about the truth behind Cas's killing of Mike and Carolyn. He was extremely grateful to Frank for having shared the news. Barry had been there, but he hadn't seen their black eyes. He'd been very upset, of course, traumatized by the shocking sight. But now that Barry'd had the chance to think about it some more, the explanation seemed logical to him. In fact, it was the only thing that made sense.

Surprisingly, Peter seemed fine with it, too. The boy had been much more quiet and subdued since they'd returned here, escorted by Cas. Barry had put the change in Peter's personality down to shock and grief, but as time progressed, he supposed that was just going to be the way the boy was, now. Not that there was anything wrong with it. Barry himself had gone through a bookish, introverted phase just before he'd hit puberty, so he could relate.

Ilene hadn't really said anything on the subject. Barry knew that she was old enough to understand the concept of Angels and Demons, and what the Hunters in their extended family did. He had made a point of asking his and Tommy's adopted daughter if she understood what he was telling her. Ilene had nodded and said yes, and then she had asked her Daddy if she could go to Angela's room to play with her "cousin".

Barry had given the kids a hug and sent them on their way, and he had been sitting there thinking ever since. As the last bit of daylight appeared, he'd lit a couple of candles so the room wouldn't be completely dark.

Tommy's widower had been contemplating whether he should ask Bobby to take his confession. He realized their friend wasn't super-comfortable about doing things like that, but Barry was family, and it was in Bobby's job description. Not that Barry had much to confess, really. It had been years and years since he'd done anything that could be considered to be on the wild side. Once Barry and Tommy had settled down together, they had both been completely monogamous the whole time. But there had been a few occasions prior to that... How did the expression go? "My conscience may be clear, but that doesn't mean I'm innocent."

Then, there were the kids to think of. Would Frank and Jody consider taking them in, or should Barry even ask them to? Once Suzanne had the triplets, this place would be a madhouse. The problem was, Barry couldn't think of anyone else to leave Peter and Ilene with, if and when the situation arose. No; not if. When. Barry couldn't afford to be in denial about what was happening to him.

The rest of his family members were reliable and good individuals, but most of them were Angels. The other two were Sam and Dean. Well-meaning as they may be, you couldn't have Angels or Hunters raising kids full-time. Barry wished he knew Tommy's surviving brothers. David was the oldest of the siblings, and Roman was the youngest. But he knew nothing about these men, not even if they were still alive, or not. And if they were, what sort of people were they?

It was a moot point, Barry decided. Realistically, Frank and Jody were his only hope. That was what he was doing here in their living room. Waiting for them to come back, so Barry could ask them to take over guardianship of his children, once he could no longer care for them.

Cas had taken a break from helping humans so that he could collect his thoughts. He had teleported himself to the highest peak of the Appalachian Mountains, and was currently sitting on a bed of pine needles. When he'd first arrived, the pine scent had reminded him of the wonderful, busting Christmases that he and Gail had hosted over the years.

Now, however, the Angel Castiel was thinking about Biblical prophecies again. There was one in Acts that said: "The sun will be turned to darkness/and the moon to blood/before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord."

Was that what was going on, here? Had Castiel's Father decided that the Day of Judgement was here at last? If so, though, where was He?

Unable to help himself, Cas had glanced down to look at Frank's settlement. Everyone there seemed happy, and they seemed to be coping quite well despite the lack of modern technology. Why wasn't Cas there with them, pitching in? There were Angels from their immediate family stationed there and Bobby popped in and out, but Cas could also be very helpful to them. When winter came in earnest, he could use his powers to keep the temperatures from plummeting too much. Naturally, Cas couldn't stop the winter season from coming altogether, but he could certainly mitigate it. That was ironic, wasn't it? Not too long ago, it was his job as host of the Christmas festivities to make sure that there was plenty of snow available for their snowman-making competition.

But thinking about those things just made Cas feel more and more melancholy. What would Christmas be like for Frank and the rest of the family this year? Would Dean and Sam be there? Would Gabriel?

Cas let out a shaky breath. "Elephant," he said softly. What about Gail?

What was keeping Cas from looking in on her? Better still, what was holding him back from just going to her? He didn't care how angry she or the Winchesters or Frank were at him; Cas should still be with his family. The question was: would any of them want him there?

VIGNETTE – IF THERE IS A WAY

Gail and Joyce arrived at Helene House just after dawn. Though it was early, the place was already bustling with activity. Women were setting up tables on the front lawn, then covering them with fitted plastic. One of them came over to greet the newcomers.

"We'll be bringing out the first servings in a few minutes," the older woman told them. "In the meantime, I'll show you where you can feed your horses."

Their welcomer introduced herself as Christy and asked what their names were. Gail replied with hers, but she couldn't hold back her curiosity: "What's Helene House?"

Joyce laughed softly, and Christy smiled. "You're not from around here, are you?"

As Gail shook her head, Christy continued, "We're one of a half-dozen womens' centres in the area. Our day-to-day operations include sheltering women from domestic abuse, counselling for victims of sexual abuse, and victim advocacy, in general." The woman glanced at Joyce. "Michelle will be so happy to see you. It's been a while."

The trio stopped walking when they got to a fenced-off area that had several animals inside, grazing contentedly.

"Unhitch the horses from your wagon, and put them in there for a while," Christy said. "There's plenty of hay, and water for them to drink. Do you remember where the kitchen is, Joyce?"

"How could I forget?" Gail's travelling companion replied, patting her stomach.

Christy laughed. "You young girls," she commented, shaking her head. "Wait till you get to be my age. One sliver of cake, and I put on five pounds. Anyway, Michelle's there, with her sleeves rolled up." Christy looked at Gail. "The boss is a hard-working lady, and very kind. But don't be surprised if she puts you to work after she feeds you."

As Christy walked away, Gail stared after her. No. No way. It couldn't be. But: Michelle? The boss? Of a womens' centre?

"What's Michelle's last name?" she asked Joyce, who was bending down to unhitch the horses.

Joyce looked thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure she still goes by 'Delacroix'," she responded.

Michelle greeted both of her guests effusively. As it turned out, Joyce had visited Helene House a number of years ago, when she had been the victim of a date rape. The young girl had made both Christy and Michelle's acquaintance back then. Christy had pretended not to know Joyce at first, because Joyce had been with a stranger. Every worker in every centre was taught to do that: safety and confidentiality was a priority.

But now that the women had seen that Gail and Michelle were friends, everything was out in the open.

Well, almost everything. Christy had offered to bring them something to eat, but Gail asked if she could speak to Michelle alone, so the others left the kitchen. "Come to my office," Michelle beckoned to Gail. "We can talk privately there."

As soon as they got to the office and Gail closed the door behind them, Michelle said, "So, what's the deal? Did your Father-in-law decide we humans needed to be taught a lesson, or what?" She moved to open the binds at the window, letting daylight into the room.

Gail was bemused. "You know, I never thought about how things looked from the human perspective," she replied. "But I'm afraid I don't have any answers for you. I really think God isn't behind what happened. I think it's Vincent."

Gail went on to give their friend a condensed version of what had happened that night in the barn, as far as Vincent's voodoo spells and threats went. She didn't mention what Cas had done, or the fact that the King of Hell had also been there. As they all knew by now, Michelle was a resilient woman, but there was only so much a person could absorb.

"I found out that Vincent stole my Angel powers, so I'm headed to the Caribbean to get them back," Gail concluded matter-of-factly. "Cas and Dean and Sam are on the road, helping people."

There was a knock on the office door, and a woman's voice called out, "Michelle, Jerry's here. Should I send him in, or put him to work?"

Michelle grinned. She rushed to open the door. "Normally, I'd say put him to work, but there's an old friend of ours here." She opened the door wider, admitting her son.

Gail stood to greet the young man. "Wow," she remarked. "You must have grown three feet taller since I saw you last."

"Aunt Gail!" Jerry said, his eyes lighting up. They'd decided that term was easier, even though she was technically his half-sister.

The two of them embraced, and though she'd only been trying to make a lighthearted comment, Gail marvelled at how huge he'd actually gotten.

"Jerry's been a big help," Michelle told Gail. "He's been running around from centre to centre, doing odd jobs for us."

"I miss TV, and video games," Jerry complained. "When are we going to get electricity again, Maman?"

Michelle's lips pressed together. "I told you, Gerard, I have no idea," she said to her son in a sterner tone. "We may never get it back."

Jerry was silent for a moment. "I told you not to call me Gerard," he said in a quieter voice. "I bet you I could probably get it back, but you won't let me try," the young man added, and now he was pouting.

"We talked about that, remember?" Michelle responded. "It's too risky." She glanced at Gail. "You promised the Angels that you wouldn't experiment with your powers, Jerry. Let them handle it." She gave her son a one-armed hug. "Can you help the ladies bring the food outside? Gail and I want to finish our visit."

Jerry nodded, then left Michelle's office without another word.

"Well, he is a teenager, now," Michelle remarked, shrugging. "It's probably just hormones. He's a good kid, Gail. He has mood swings once in a while, but what kid his age doesn't, am I right?"

Gail's lips pursed, but she said nothing in reply. Maybe that was normal behaviour for a boy of Jerry's age. She remembered Rob having gone through a rebellious phase. But Rob didn't have nuclear-grade powers, either.

"You know, before all of this happened," Michelle went on, waving her hands in an expressive way, "I finally got Jerry to open up about how life was for him in the foster system, then in Vincent's compound, and then with Benoit. But, for every step forward, it's also a couple of steps back. Jerry's still having trouble fitting in with kids his age, because he knows how different he is from everyone else. He's starting to get crushes on girls, but he's scared to get near any of them, because he's afraid he might accidentally hurt her. He means well, but he also gets pouty, as you saw a minute ago."

Gail let out a slow breath. "What's really going on here, Michelle?" the Angel asked her friend warily. "What are you not telling me?"

Michelle sighed. "Did you notice that I didn't say anything to you about Cas? That's because he came to see me, a week or so ago. He asked me a lot of very...uh...pointed questions about Jerry, and his powers. Then Cas talked to Jerry alone, just the two of them, and then, he left. I asked him where you were, of course, but he was evasive. All he could say was that you were on a mission somewhere else."

Gail half-smiled. Well, that was pretty much the truth, wasn't it? But her smile faded when Michelle went on with her narrative:

"After Cas left, Jerry told me that you and Cas had had a big fight, and there was a lot more to the story than anyone was saying. Jerry also said that Cas warned him that he would be keeping an eye on him, and that he wouldn't hesitate to smite Jerry at the slightest hint of wrongdoing. At the time, I thought Jerry was exaggerating, or that he'd smarted off to Cas. But then I got to thinking about how weird that whole thing had been. So maybe it's ME who should be asking YOU what's really going on. How about it, Gail?"

Gail sighed deeply. Great. Just great. What had Cas been trying to accomplish? Had he had the same kind of idea she'd had?

"It's complicated, Michelle," she replied. "I know that's not an answer, but believe me, I'm as puzzled as you are."

Michelle was frowning. No, it wasn't an answer. But she knew Gail well enough by now to know that her Angel friend was being sincere.

"I have to continue on with my mission," Gail said. "I'll say goodbye to Joyce and Jerry, and then I'll be on my way." She touched Michelle's arm. "I have just one favour to ask. If you think Jerry might do something rash, pray as loud as you can to Bobby, or Cas. I don't want anybody else getting hurt. OK, Michelle?"

Their friend agreed. She loved her son, but Michelle had also seen first-hand the kind of destruction Jerry was capable of causing.

The women left Michelle's office.

Later, when Gail was back on the road by herself again, she gave in to her strong feelings of disappointment. She'd been hoping to enlist Michelle's permission to use Jerry as leverage against Vincent. If Gail's father was the slightest bit aware of the extent of Jerry's power, he would probably have cooperated. At the very least, Vincent would likely have been reluctant to kill two of his most powerful offspring, risking harm to himself. Gail felt sure that Cas had had a similar thought.

But Gail's husband had obviously reached the same conclusion as she had: Jerry had the juice, but she didn't have the maturity or the impulse control they would need for him to have, in a situation like that. At this stage of his life, young Jerry was just too much of a wild card to bring into such a volatile confrontation.

Gail was right back to square one. No powers, no back-up, no idea what she was going to do when she got there. Terrific.

VIGNETTE – I ONLY WANT TO SAY

Cas was still on that mountaintop, growing more agonized by the minute. Why did he feel so conflicted, if he was on the right path? And, if he was on the right path, why did he feel so all alone?

He had called out to his Father, pleading for a clear direction. He liked helping humans, but why couldn't he and Gail do that together? All right; so she didn't have her powers at the moment. But then, why did God seem to want her to confront Vincent all by herself?

Was it because Castiel's presence in the Caribbean might prevent Gail from being successful in retrieving her powers? Cas supposed that could be a valid point. To say that he and Vincent didn't get along would be an enormous understatement.

What did the Father want from Cas, anyway? Sacrifice was one thing, but his heart ached so badly from being apart from his wife and their friends, that Cas felt as if he was being punished. He regretted having had to smite Carolyn and Mike, every minute of every day, but Castiel remained firm in his belief that it had been the only course of action he could have taken at the time. Surely God wouldn't be making him do penance for that? Castiel had done many violent things over the centuries, all in his service for Heaven. So although those smitings had been regrettable to Cas, to his Father, they would be the proverbial drops of water in the ocean.

"I have changed. I'm not as confident as I was at the outset of The Event," Cas said aloud. "Then, it seemed as if my mission was clear. But now, I'm sad because I miss my wife, and our family. Do You WANT Gail to release the Demons from Hell, as the prophecy states? Is that why You're keeping me away from her? But, why would You want that? Is this a test, to see if I'll obey? Or, to see if she will?"

Silence. Cas took a breath, then tried again: "Did You know that many of the people I've helped want to worship me? They call me Messiah, or Saviour. It's just like Africa, all over again. I tell them I'm just another Angel in Heaven's service, but they don't seem to listen. Then, they ask me: if I can heal people, why can't I bring their loved ones back to life?"

His voice broke. There had been a little boy on the outskirts of the desert who had walked across the burning sands for days just to find some help for his parents, who had been ill. By the time Cas had gotten to the child's mother and father with food and water, it had been too late. The young boy had looked at Castiel with such a plaintive expression and asked him that question, and Cas's heart had broken for the child. In that moment, the boy had seemed to represent Peter, and Rob, and Dean, and Sam, and Frank, and all of the men who had once been little boys, trying to cope with the loss of their parents.

"I'm just so tired, Father," Cas confessed. "I'm tired of humans, looking to me for answers I don't have. I've done everything the way I believed You would want me to. I don't see what more I can do to prove my love and loyalty to You. What more do You want from me?"

More silence. Typical, Cas thought bitterly.

But suddenly came God's voice, from up above the clouds. Burning bushes must be hard to come by up here, Cas supposed.

"'I will make an example of the New Babylonians, that ruthless and impetuous people'," he heard God say. "'They are a feared and dreaded people; they are a law unto themselves, and promote their own honour'."

Cas was glad to hear that his Father was going to make sure that Vincent's cult was taken care of. That was one less task for his Son to perform. But as he continued to stand there motionless, awaiting the Almighty's instructions, it dawned on Cas: that was all. That had been God's message, in its entirety.

Finally, Cas had no choice but to bow his head. "I am the vine, and my Father is the gardener," he said softly. "'He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, so that it will be even more fruitful'."

As Bible quotes went, the verse that Cas had uttered was a lot less memorable than, say, "'The truth will set you free'." But the passage from the Book of John, whether John had actually written it or not, was one that was especially meaningful to Cas. It always had been. Cas was God's creation, just as everyone else was. If his Father had to cause Castiel pain in order to improve him in some way, it was incumbent on Cas to bear it. His Will be done.

Cas left the mountainside to resume his responsibilities to the human race.

As renewed as Castiel had felt when he'd heard God's voice, it didn't take long for the Angel to feel frustrated again.

When he'd descended from the mountain, Cas had a specific destination in mind. But he chose not to teleport there. The longer he spent on the ground, the more people he could potentially help.

He'd done a few healings when he noticed that groups of humans were starting to follow behind him. Cas sighed. It was the same thing, everywhere he went. He didn't want to be their Messiah, or Yissa, or Saviour, or whatever they wanted to call him. But his wishes didn't appear to matter.

Soon, Castiel and his flock were just east of New Orleans. Castiel had considered dropping in on Michelle and Jerry again. He had been uneasy about the teenager's demeanour, when last they'd spoken. But with all of these humans in tow, that wasn't advisable. So he continued in the easterly direction, healing people and picking up a few more followers along the way.

"My Lord," Mitchell said, and Cas looked sideways at the young man. "Yes?" he said wearily.

"Permission to relieve one of the advance scouts?" Mitchell asked eagerly, nodding to two humans who were further along the road. While Castiel had by no means appointed them as such, a few of his followers had adopted the practice of going ahead of the group to look for people who needed assistance. A few of the young men who had belonged to a Christian Youth organization called the True Believers had volunteered themselves for that duty, and Mitchell was one.

"Granted," Cas sighed. He almost expected Mitchell to salute.

A short while later, Mitchell shouted, "My Lord! There's a girl here who needs your help!"

Cas didn't know whether to smile, or to roll his eyes. If the young Angels who had once been under his command had been so indiscreet as to give away their position by yelling it to the Heavens, he would have had to re-educate them rather sternly. But Castiel was unconcerned about any potential danger here. He could easily vanquish an enemy if he had to.

As Cas drew near, he saw a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks. Mitchell was standing over a woman whose arm was bleeding, but she pushed away the helping hand that the youth had offered to her.

"I don't need any help," the woman argued irritably. She remained seated on the pavement.

"Yes, you do," Mitchell insisted. "Let the Saviour help you."

Gail scrambled to her feet, giving the True Believer one of her best eye-rolls. "'The Saviour'?" she repeated scornfully. "No, thanks. I'm on my way to deal with one crazy cult leader. The last thing I need is another one."

"Would everyone please walk on ahead?" Cas said to his followers. "I need to talk to this young lady in private."

There was silence for a moment, and then Mitchell began waving his arms as if he were directing traffic. "You heard him, people. Let's go."

Once the group had advanced further down the road, Gail eyed Cas. "Okay: points for calling me a 'young lady', but what's this 'Saviour' nonsense?" she asked her husband with dry humour.

Cas tried to explain, but his words failed him. The mighty warrior Angel just stood there, gaping at his wife. What were the chances that he should come upon Gail here, when neither of them had been searching for the other? Was this the sign from God that Cas had been looking for?

He put his hand on Gail's arm, automatically healing her wound. She let him, but as Cas looked into her eyes, he could tell that she was still angry with him. Cas almost smiled as he remembered what Frank had once said to Jody when they'd been arguing: "Is this the same fight we're having, or a new one?"

Gail saved Cas the trouble of asking her that same question. "What the hell, Cas? Why is that guy calling you 'the Saviour', and why are all those people traipsing after you? This is Yissa, all over again! Don't you see that?"

"I never wanted to be worshipped," Cas said uncomfortably.

"Yeah?" Gail retorted. "Then why does it keep on happening?" She let out a frustrated breath. "Actually, I can answer that question myself," she continued. "It's because a part of you loves it, that's why. You know what, Cas? You'd better check yourself, or that false idol the Bible keeps going on about will be YOU. Thanks for the patch job, but you'd better hurry and catch up to your devoted followers before they start stoning me for disobedience, or something."

And just like that, she turned her back on him and started to walk away.

Cas was rendered speechless. He'd thought that their accidental meeting was a sign from God that they should reunite. But it seemed that Gail had other plans. Or, was this still God's doing? Cas was utterly perplexed. But his wife had cut to the heart of the matter in a way that only Gail could. He WAS the false idol.

Castiel watched his wife walk away, hoping she'd turn back, or at least look at him once more. But she didn't, so he slowly turned around to see his followers, waiting for him further on down the road. He sighed, and began to walk in their direction.

A few miles away, Gail wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands and looked at the street signs above the intersection she had come to.

It had taken all the anger and spite she had saved up but never expressed over the years for her not to have broken down weeping when she'd seen Cas. The kind of girl Gail had been when they had first met would have cried buckets and launched herself into his arms, begging him to stay by her side.

But there was something about this mission she was on that felt very personal to Gail. Cas had nothing to do with it, not really. It was her powers that had been stolen by her bastard of a birth father. She owed Vincent for a lot of things, but mainly, she owed him for the murders of all of those people at the compound. Her brothers and sisters. He was also responsible for the deaths of Alice's victims. Alice wouldn't have given herself the mission to murder all of Vincent's remaining children if it hadn't been for the fact that the guy was such an evil son of a bitch. Most of the kids Benoit had taken to Paris had been wrongdoers themselves, so Gail couldn't really argue with their deaths. Still, for every one of Vincent's offspring with evil intent, there were good ones, too. Aggie had been a good one, and so had Eric. Eric's death had broken Rob's heart. For that alone, Vincent was owed some payback.

As Gail stood there, both crying and fuming, she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up, into the smirking face of Abbadon. "You sure are taking your sweet time," the Demon remarked. "Come on; we've got a birthday party to plan."

The women vanished.