~ An-Nafud Desert, Saudi Arabia ~

Darkness shrouded the land. Great rolling hills and jagged rocks protruded from the otherwise flat desert. Tall, wavering torches dotted the area around a campsite, where men talked quietly in Arabic. One had just taken a seat when a strange gust of wind swept through their tent, dousing the torches outside. Their interior lanterns flickered.

Then, standing before them were there was once thin air, was a man. Crowley tucked his hands into his pockets.

He spoke in Arabic, "where is he?"

One man rose to his feet and pulled aside a curtain, revealing their companion lying, sickly, in bed. Crowley stepped inside, pausing a few feet away.

"Noel," he greeted. "I came when you asked." He raised an eyebrow. "You're looking a trifle peaky."

Noel breathed a chuckle.

"Do you truly have it?" Crowley asked.

Nodding slightly, Noel said, "and it's yours... if you hold up your end of the bargain."

Crowley slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a thin scroll. At the sight of it, Noel pushed himself into a sitting position, sighing.

"I've had a good life," Noel told him. "Thanks to you. Very few of the world's secrets I haven't cracked. It seemed worth a soul... at the time."

"Oh. It always does."

"Destroy that thing," Noel said.

"Show me the object first," Crowley countered.

Noel nodded to the man standing by the door. He opened up a crate while Noel stared hard at Crowley.

"A shofar," Noel said. "The Horn of Joshua, touched by the Hand of God."

The man brought out something wrapped in cloth. Crowley unwrapped one side to look at it, then held out a hand to touch it.

"Easy," Noel warned. Crowley halted. "Easy there."

"It's authentic," Crowley observed. "I can feel it." He withdrew his hand, allowing the other man to re-wrap it. He turned back to Noel.

"Now tear that thing up," Noel said, an edge to his tone. Crowley raised an eyebrow, but snapped the scroll in half. Noel let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I don't think I have long."

"How very prescient of you," Crowley said. He twisted his hand, and Noel's neck snapped to the side with an audible crunch. The man standing by the door turned and fled. Crowley gazed down at the corpse for less than second before grabbing the Horn of Joshua and tugging the tent flap aside. The sight that greeted him was not unexpected, but just plain annoying.

Noel's guards were all pointing their guns at him, muttering in Arabic. Sighing, Crowley lifted his arms, as if to surrender. He began to turn one hand, ever so slowly, and with it, the guards' weapons trembled and dipped, turning unbidden until they were all aiming for one another. They started crying out in their native tongue, mostly exclamations and prayers. Crowley almost felt flattered when one of them called him the Devil.

He lowered his finger.

The guns went off at the same time, lighting up the tent with bright flashes of gunfire. Each man let out a shout and toppled over, dead.

Silence.

"Amateurs," Crowley murmured.

~ America ~

"Are you not hearing me?" Crowley snapped over the phone. He stormed through the rain irritably, soaked to the bone. "I said I have in my possession the solution to our collective problems. You should be doing a jig."

"I don't jig," Dean replied. "Now, how do I know you even escaped Lucifer and he's not making you say all this?"

"Honestly, your cynicism is depressing," Crowley told him. He jogged to an awning where he was sheltered from the downpour. He leaned against a pillar. "Why would Lucifer force me to discuss the very means of his destruction?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A weapon—one than channels divinity." He glanced around the corner, nervous of being overheard. He could feel the pull of several souls, none of the bright kind. Were those person's eyes black or was he seeing things? "Yes, powerful enough to help destroy a force like the Darkness. Or Lucifer." He vanished and reappeared higher up. A better vantage point from here. "Tell me you haven't been searching for such a thing."

"A Hand of God?" Dean guessed. "Of course we have."

"Thought as much. St. Louis. The old post office on Beekman."

"Crowley."

Crowley hung up.

Down in the bunker, Dean groaned. He tipped his head back and shouted, "Sam!"

~ An abandoned factory ~

"How do I know that any of this is working?" Amara demanded weakly. She was lying down on her stomach, feeling quite vulnerable under the firm hands of the witch. "I don't feel any different, for all of your promises. I warn you, I'm not one to be trifled with."

"Shh." Rowena MacLeod picked up her chanting before Amara could speak again. "Mahday, eelohtah sahn. Serloh, eelohtah." A faint red glow pulsed beneath Amara's ribcage. "That's enough for now, poor wee thing. But you're coming along. I'll heal you, just as I promised."

Amara rose to her feet. The warehouse was full of bright, flickering fire to help them stay warm, but it did nothing to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. Amara didn't mind that.

"And who are you again?" Amara asked.

"One who communes with the natural forces and channels them to help the less fortunate," Rowena answered her smoothly. "Such as yourself."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm."

"You're his mother," Amara said after a moment.

Rowena's expression was unreadable in the dim lighting. "Say what, dear?"

"Uncle Crowley's mother," Amara clarified.

"Uncle?"

"He tried controlling me when I was a child," Amara said. Her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Did he send you to bring me back?"

"Heavens, no," Rowena assured her quickly, holding out her hands. "My son and I loathe each other."

"Then why are you helping me?"

"Because you're going to win, my dear. Yes, I know about the grievance between you and your brother and his archangel—I have my own ax to grind with Lucifer." Rowena said the name 'Lucifer' with such contempt, Amara could imagine venom dripping from her words.

"You know him?" Amara asked.

"Know him?" Rowena chuckled mirthlessly.

She glanced to the side for a moment, and a memory flashed in her mind, so vivid and painful that Amara was able to see it. Lucifer, taking Rowena's chin with icy fingers, a smile curving his lips, then a terrible crack as he snapped her neck.

"And yet, you live," Amara said, tilting her head.

"Aye. Like yourself, I'm a survivor. A hard life has taught me to be prepared." Rowena pushed her dress to the side, showing off her legs. "I, long ago, secreted within my person a wee casket of powerful magic."

Another memory, this time of Lucifer walking away with Crowley, and swirling purple magic humming beneath her skin, breathing life into her once more.

"When the spell inside me sensed my life force ebbing," Rowena explained, "it went to work. And I was revived."

"Where is Lucifer now?" Amara asked. She knew her nephew was not easily found, but Rowena seemed to have proven herself a capable sorceress. Feeling suddenly fatigued, she stumbled and took a seat. "He's hidden himself from me, and I, too, have a score to settle."

"All in good time. Right now, you're still weak from that pesky angel smiting."

Amara took in a deep breath. "And you can fix that?"

"Aye, and so much more," Rowena replied. "You can destroy your enemies and, I imagine, remake the world any way you choose. And I... will be by your side."

~ The old post office on Beekman ~

The Winchesters ducked into the location Crowley had given them. Dean grimaced and shoved aside cobwebs, while Sam shook his head free of the woven strings as they descended into the darkness. Eventually, they emerged in a partially-open space with one dim light bulb on the ceiling. Crowley stood, waiting for them.

"Nice digs," Dean commented. "The Crypt Keeper out of town?"

"I'm lucky to be alive," Crowley said. "Lucifer had me trussed up like a dog in my own palace."

"'Palace'?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean the abandoned nuthouse."

"He kept me in a kennel!" Crowley hissed. When Sam dissolved into quiet chuckles, he continued indignantly, "and, he turned all his demons—my demons—against me. They scour the earth, day and night, looking to kill me. He has to be dealt with."

"So, is this why you brought us here?" Dean questioned. "Some lousy grudge match with Lucifer?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Where's this, uh, Hand of God you were talking about?"

"I'm getting to that," Crowley said. "Your only hope of subduing Amara is to match the level of power that she possesses."

"No kidding," Dean said. "And?"

"And, I have the Horn of Joshua."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Joshua. As in the Joshua that won the battle of Jericho?"

"And I'm willing to entrust it to your capable hands." When the Winchesters both stared at Crowley knowingly, he asked, "what? I just said I'd give you the thing."

Simultaneously, the brothers said, "if?"

"Is this how you say 'thank you'?" Crowley muttered. "You think these things grow on bloody trees?!"

"Cut the crap, Crowley," Dean said. "With you, there's always an 'if'."

"Fine," Crowley relented. "I will give you the Horn, if you help me exorcise Lucifer from Castiel's vessel and then return him immediately to the Cage."

"Oh, that's all, huh?" Sam said.

"Okay," Dean said. "And where is this Horn?"

"Safely hidden, naturally," Crowley replied.

"Crowley, even if we could exorcise Lucifer out of Cas, the Cage is damn near impenetrable," Sam said. "It took a spell from the Book of the Damned to spring Lucifer, and Rowena hid the book."

"And we would need both the book and her to even have a shot," Dean added.

Crowley blinked. "Did I say this would be easy? No. I did not."

"Do you even know where Rowena is?" Sam asked.

"Rotting somewhere, I assume," Crowley said, biting his lip. "Lucifer snapped her neck."

The brothers exchanged a look.

Dean shook his head. "Hold on, okay? Let's just put it in reverse. We will put Lucifer back in the Cage after we put Amara back on ice. It has to happen in that order, otherwise there is no Lucifer, there's no Cage, there's no nothing."

"He's spent years marinating in hate against us!" Crowley cried. "He has to go."

"Problem is..." Sam started. He crossed his arms. "... we may need him."

"He's been down this road with Amara before," Dean continued, picking up the explanation after Sam. "He might be the only one powerful enough to use the Horn against her."

"He had me cleaning the floors with my tongue," Crowley hissed. "He called me 'puppy'! He made me beg!"

Dean clapped his hands a few times, drawing Crowley's quickly drifting attention to himself. "Alright, come on. Is this what this is about, huh? Your stupid ego? The fact that he dissed you in front of a bunch of stupid demons? You're smarter than this. Come on."

"Dean's right," Sam said. "Priority is to put the Horn in Lucifer's hands and set him loose on Amara-"

"-after we exorcise Lucifer out of Cas and put him into a new vessel," Dean finished.

"What?" Sam said, eyebrows furrowed. "Really?"

Dean glanced back at him. "Yes, really. We're not gonna send Lucifer into battle inside Cas. What if he doesn't make it?"

"Dean, it's a strong vessel," Sam countered, "it's held Cas for years, and we know what he's been through. I'm guessing it can hold Lucifer."

"'It'?" Dean questioned. "It's not an 'it', Sam. It's Cas."

"And Cas wanted to do this."

"Yeah, well, there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask," Dean snapped. Crowley raised an eyebrow. "That don't make it a good idea."

"Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. W-We make the heart choice instead of the smart choice."

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil," Dean muttered. "Cas is family."

"Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected," Sam replied.

"Even if it kills him?"

"It's killing me," Crowley piped up. "I would rather stick white-hot skewers in my eyes than listen to you two bitches bicker! I gave you the terms of my deal. If Lucifer's not back in the Cage, the Horn stays hidden."

"You know, this is a dick move, Crowley," said Sam. "Even for you. You're not being reasonable."

"I don't have to be reasonable," Crowley snapped. "I'm the king."

The Winchesters both rolled their eyes.

~ Heaven ~

Jofiel pressed a device to the door of some soul's Heaven, watching an array of colors light up in the metal. A beep and a whirr later, and he began to lower it, when a sudden flash in the corner of his eye made him look up.

Leaning against the wall, a patient smile on his lips, was Lucifer.

Sucking in a breath, Jofiel whispered, "Lucifer."

The Devil's eyes flicked over him. "Jofiel. How's it hangin'?"

Jofiel glanced backward. The hall was empty. He was alone. He reluctantly faced Lucifer, who pushed himself off the wall and held out a placating hand.

"Easy there," Lucifer soothed.

Although Lucifer's grace was blinding in its intensity, Jofiel could tell the vessel he wore once belonged to Castiel. Castiel's grace was there too, but dimmer, like it was almost... hiding, behind Lucifer.

"So perfect," Jofiel muttered. "Castiel, one of Heaven's most wanted, possessed by Heaven's most hated."

"I come in peace," Lucifer assured him. "I just wanna be a part of the action again. I wanna lend a hand."

Gritting his teeth, Jofiel whirled around and called out, "brothers-!"

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Jofiel exploded into dust. Sighing, Lucifer waved away the ashes. Pity.

Later...

Now in one of Heaven's numerous conference rooms, Lucifer stood before a group of high-ranking angels, all leaders of their garrisons. They watched him in varying degrees of fear, stiff in their seats.

"Okay, guys," Lucifer started off, rubbing his chin. "So, trying to smite the Darkness was a bust, huh?" He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table, causing the closest angels to flinch. Casting sympathetic glances side to side, he continued, "you had all the power of Heaven behind you. Couldn't even slow the bitch down. Well. No need to feel like abject losers. You learned a valuable lesson here. You need me."

There was a long stretch of pensive silence. The angels averted their eyes nervously.

Lucifer sighed. "Alright. Not giddy with awe."

"You..." one angel, Afriel, trailed off, swallowing. "... exploded Jofiel."

"Or did Jofiel explode himself?" Lucifer suggested, arching an eyebrow. He shrugged at their expressions. "Just sayin'."

"God cast you out of Heaven," said another angel, named Sariel.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and turned to face Sariel. "And who do you think spread that tabloid headline?" Drawing uncomfortable close, he sat down on the other angel's lap, forcing Sariel to look him in the eyes. "It was Captain G. The Eternal One. And why?" For each word, he bumped foreheads with Sariel. "Because I didn't buy into his obsessive"-bump-"compulsive-"-bump-"love for mankind."

"Mankind is His creation," Afriel said.

"Oh, come on!" Lucifer exclaimed, shoving himself away from Sariel. "It's not like He invented the Prius, which actually works. I don't have to tell you people what a mess mankind is. The Salem Witch Trials..." Gripping a nearby angel's shirt collar, he yanked once. "... Third Reich..." He clicked his heel against the floor and stuck an arm out. "... Twin Towers. And sure, every once in awhile, He'll send down a little plague to straighten 'em out, but it's nothing permanent." Lucifer's tone dripped hatred and indignation. "Humanity brought us Hiroshima and got a redo. I merely questioned His priorities, and I got the boot."

"He said you're evil," Sariel spoke up.

Lucifer's stare snapped to the angel. His brothers glanced back at Sariel, eyes wide with worry. Lucifer's lips tightened into a thin line.

"Incarnate," Afriel added, hoping to draw attention away from his brother. "E-Evil incarnate."

Instead of turning them both into ashes, as everyone expected, Lucifer cracked a dangerous smile and only said, "it's marketing. He's creating a need in the consumer's mind." He shrugged a bit. "Can't be a super savior if you don't have a super villain."

"So, what are you offering?" an angel—her name being Hadraniel—near the wall asked.

"Well, a way out of this pickle," Lucifer answered.

"By 'pickle' you mean the Darkness," Sariel said.

Lucifer nodded.

"You can reason with her?" Hadraniel asked hopefully.

"Well..." Lucifer stuck his hands in his pockets. He had to give Castiel kudos—the trenchcoat was cozy. "I doubt that. But I can lock her away. This time for good. Done it before."

The angels exchanged confused looks with one another.

"Oh, Pops didn't tell you that, huh?"

"Once you've... gotten rid of her," Afriel said hesitantly, "you'll want... to... stay around?"

"Oh, I like the way you think." He clapped his hands. The sharp sound echoed around the room. "Man, am I jazzed! Hey. If it makes ya comfy..." The smile that Lucifer gave the angels was utterly devilish. "... could call me God."

~ The abandoned factory ~

Rowena's hands, hovering just above Amara's skin, roamed up and down the length of her body, humming with power.

"The vessel is healing nicely," Rowena told her. She grinned. "Soon, you'll be shipshape Bristol fashion."

"You seem pleased with my progress," Amara noticed. "But I don't sense in you the capacity for kindness or... concern."

"Kindness gets you a hug," Rowena muttered, shuddering in disgust. "Not a seat at the big boys' table."

"And what is it you want?"

"Oh, like yourself," Rowena replied. "I want revenge on Lucifer. But more than that, I want to be there when you remake the universe to your taste."

"Oh?" Amara turned around to look at her. "I'm told my tastes run towards the catastrophic."

"Aye," Rowena said happily, thinking she was making a joke. "The Winchesters say you are all about destruction."

"The Winchesters are right."

The smile faded from Rowena's face. Yes, she could revel in good-natured destruction, but utter catastrophe? She didn't want to see the world gone. Only changed. She fixed her attention on the table, swallowing.

"But," Amara continued, "what they call 'destruction', I call renovation. My blueprint. Not God's."

"That's my girl," Rowena said, forcing enthusiasm back into her tone. "Do things the way you would have done them."

"I will." Amara paused. "And where do you fit into that?"

"Oh, I can be useful," Rowena told her, eager to please. "Provide you with information on the troublesome brothers and Lucifer—their plans. And even if it is born out of my own self-interest, I-I care about you."

At Amara's incredulous expression, Rowena found there was no way to back out of the conversation and barreled on. Better inject some sympathy into her tone, too, lest Amara become suspicious.

"I'm someone you can talk with. Confide in. Have you—have you ever had that?"

Amara slowly shook her head. "I've always been alone."

"Oh, you don't have to be, darlin'!" Rowena insisted. She reached out, but stopped herself just shy of touching Amara's face. She was making so many terrible decisions in such a short conversation. With a pathetic attempt at salvaging her pride, she raised her hand to her forehead instead, brushing aside her bangs.

Rising to her feet, Amara said, "well... whatever you're doing, it seems to be working. Maybe I should try a little test."

~ Heaven ~

"Thank you," Lucifer said, touching an angel's shoulder as she walked by. He knew he made them uncomfortable with his nearness, which was exactly why he tried to make physical contact with his siblings as much as possible.

The angels were now returning to their garrisons to consider his offer, although he assumed they would each make the right choice. None of them wanted to be turned to dust, right? It's just survival instincts.

When Hadraniel passed by, he called after her, "Hey, I like your spunk. There's always room for a go-getter in my organization."

Afriel tried to hurry past him, but Lucifer grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards into the room.

"Hey, I know I can count on you," Lucifer said with a smile, snaking an arm around Afriel's shoulders. The angel was shaking violently beneath his firm grip, his breathing coming in uneven gasps. "But what about your people? They on board, or we need to do a little wing-twisting?"

"I-I'll have to think about it," Afriel managed. He forced an obviously fake smile.

Lucifer clapped his shoulder and released him. "Don't you think about it too long."

Afriel looked like he wanted to bolt, but he only walked unsteadily away. Lucifer could see his fingers visibly trembling.

"You know what they say," Lucifer called after him. Better have fun while it lasts. "He who hesitates—" he snapped his fingers, his smile fading, "—disintegrates!" When the next angel walked by, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder. "You look great. You been working out?"

Down on Earth, Amara held out her arms in a flourish and tipped her head to the sky. "HEAR ME!" she shouted, her True Voice mixing and resonating with her mortal one. Darkness stirred at her feet and sucked inward, a vortex of power that exploded out from her hands and rattled the whole building with concussive force.

Halfway behind a pillar, Rowena could feel the raw energy thrumming within her, and terror struck at her very core.

She'd made a terrible mistake.

Back up in Heaven, a great rumbling filled the halls. The lights flickered, occasionally plunging everyone into darkness. Lucifer paused and looked to the ceiling, where the lights crackled with strange power.

Afriel stopped in his tracks. He stared ahead, eyes wide with shock.

At the very end of the hallway, darkness was consuming his path in a massive, writhing tornado of black smoke that rushed towards him at blinding speed, blowing out the lights as it went.

His body finally catching up to his brain, Afriel spun on his heel and took off.

Angels began sprinting around corners, heading for the conference room where groups of them were shouting and ducking past Lucifer into shelter. Lucifer stood in the doorway, watching the oncoming storm with a smile twisting his lips.

Lucifer threw up an arm to protect himself just as the darkness collided with him and knocked him to the floor, rushing into the room and down other hallways, filling the space with whirling black and vicious winds. Angels screamed in terror and shock. On the ground, Lucifer grinned widely, one hand shielding his face from the onslaught. He felt the familiar fury of his Aunt grab Heaven by its very foundations and shake it ferociously, her howls of vengeance the only noise in his ears.

Now that's more like it.

On Earth, thunder crashed above. The Winchesters and Crowley looked upward, wearing identical frowns of confusion.

"What the hell was that?" Dean questioned.

The trio stepped outside to find the sky boiling over with black clouds, dark lightning streaking over the land, accompanied with massive booms of sound.

"You know what, fellas?" Dean said, watching the spectacular display. "I think that's her."

~ Heaven ~

Angels groaned and muttered amongst themselves. The darkness had cleared, leaving Heaven in a state of disarray. White tables and chairs were strewn about, knocked over by the sudden attack. Angels staggered to their feet, helping each other up and righting the fallen furniture.

Lucifer was already standing, looking ruffled and a bit surprised but unharmed. "Well, that," he said, dusting himself off, "was a little payback, ladies and gents. I don't think Auntie Amara appreciated your little half-assed smiting. And, uh—" he clicked his tongue, "—guess what? This—This is just a teeny taste of what's to come. So clearly, my expertise is gonna come in handy. Cause God knows what's next."

The angels stared at him. He winced theatrically.

"Ouch. I almost forgot. Um..." He made a face. "God doesn't care."

~ The post office on Beekman again ~

"Okay." Sam waved his hands as they stepped back inside the post office. "S-So now we all just saw what happens when she's in a bad mood, which, apparently, she's been in since the dawn of time."

"I think she just rattled Heaven with a flick of her pinkie finger," Dean said to Crowley. "That's not a big enough dose of reality for you?"

Back in the abandoned factory, Rowena tilted her head upwards. She found herself looking, not at the ceiling, but at the Winchester brothers and Crowley. They were arguing.

"Why are we arguing?" Crowley questioned. "We all know that he has to go back in the Cage."

"Yes, when it makes sense," Dean countered. "Amara's the big picture here now, okay? Look, in order to take her out, Lucifer has got to have the Horn of Joshua. He does her, we do him. Check, please."

Rowena's astral form snapped back into her body. She took in a shaky breath.

"Well?" Amara asked. "What are the Winchesters preparing to do?"

"Mm, nothing," Rowena lied. She closed her eyes, pretending she was just dizzy from astral projecting. "Paralyzed with fear. They don't know what to do." She opened her eyes and held Amara's gaze for as long as possible, hoping she looked convincing.

Amara didn't smile, but she didn't turn Rowena to dust either. "You're right. You're actually handy to have around." Then, as if Rowena were an obedient dog, she patted her cheek.

"Thanks," Rowena whispered. "Lovely of you to say."

Still standing around in the post office, Dean said, "Crowley, ticktock. You with us?"

"The crux of your dispute is your contention that Lucifer—and only Lucifer—can use the Horn to beat Amara, right?"

"You got it."

"Well, that scenario only works if you actually possess said Horn, which you do not." Crowley lifted his chin in utter defiance.

"No, we do not," Sam snapped. "But you do, so—"

"Exactly! I do!" Crowley replied. "This isn't a negotiation. I have the high cards, and you have—hold on." His tone quickly turned downright insulting. "Give me a second. Let me have a look—no cards!" He clenched his jaw. "My offer stands."

"When we sprung Lucifer from the Cage," Dean started, "we had Rowena and the Book of the Damned. Both of which we will need to put him back in the Cage. Both of which are gone."

As Sam watched them argue, he noticed a rusty cabinet nearby begin to light up strangely. Almost as if words were being burned into it.

"Guys," Sam said.

"Back to you," Dean growled.

"Guys," Sam repeated. "Look at this." He pointed to the cabinet.

The burned words faded until they were legible.

BACK FROM THE DEAD, FERGUS!

~ An abandoned church ~

Dean finished up spraying a Devil's Trap on the floor, shaking the can a few times. Across the room, Sam set down a wooden cross. They put a few more things in position—laying the table sideways, shifting some furniture around, lighting some candles.

Off to the side, Rowena stood at a desk, several items laid out in front of her. She gave them a dainty wave and smiled. Sam smiled back, then turned to Dean and said, "I hate this."

"Yeah."

"By the way, where the hell is Crowley?" Sam asked. "I mean, we're essentially all set up."

"Yeah, he's the one that boxed us into doing this," Dean agreed. "You'd think he'd have the decency to—"

"—show up?" Crowley finished. He had appeared near the windows, holding the wrapped-up Horn of Joshua in his hands. As he walked over to them, he carefully skirted the red lines on the floor. "He does. Because, without the bait, well... a trap really isn't a trap, is it?"

"That's it?" Sam said, eyeing the Horn. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"

"First impressions can be deceiving, moose," Crowley replied. "For instance, I once thought of you as dull and plodding."

Sam frowned.

"Ah. Never mind." Crowley waved him off. "Bad analogy."

"For the record, we still think this is a bad idea," Dean piped up. "We should be using Lucifer, not icing him."

"I'm aware," Crowley said. "So I'll be standing right here, should you hesitate. The hand that giveth can so quickly taketh away."

"Yes, we getteth it," Dean muttered.

Crowley turned his attention to Rowena. "So, mummy, you were telling us your fascinating tale of resurrection. But you never did say exactly where you'd been this whole time."

"Same as you, Fergus," Rowena replied. She spat out the name 'Fergus' like it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Hiding. Once the Dark Prince knew I was alive, I wouldn't be."

"No mucking about like last time," Crowley warned, then glanced back to the Winchesters. "The warding and the holy fire won't keep an archangel but for a moment. If he shows up at all."

"Oh, he'll show," Dean said. "He's too hungry to take Amara out, and we've got the blaster to do it." He lit a match and dropped it into a bowl, sending a plume of fire shooting upwards, then slowly dying down to a manageable size. Next, he unfurled a piece of parchment. "In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas, introibo ad altare Domini Inferi. I summon you to make an offer. The weapon by which its bearer can crush the Darkness forever."

Thunder crashed. Everyone jolted. Lightning illuminated the stained glass windows, casting wavering colors and patterns on the floor. Rowena promptly bolted behind the corner to hide.

Lightning struck again, and with it came Lucifer.

He appeared in the center of the Devil's Trap, facing away from them. Before he could turn around, Dean shouted, "Sam, now!"

Sam struck a match and tossed it to the ground, right on the line of holy oil. Fire sprung up from the spot it landed, then raced down the rest of the line until there was a circle of holy fire separating them from the Devil.

Lucifer slowly turned around, arms crossed over his chest. He regarded them the way one might a bug—with interest, a hint of disgust. Castiel's deep blue eyes, so gentle and warm before, were now ice cold. The flames made dark shadows dance in his irises.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer said, tilting his head. "Your prayer implied that I'd be joining the team, but I'm just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here."

When no one replied, even sarcastically, to his comment, he frowned a bit, his gaze jumping from Sam to Dean. Then, his attention was drawn to an item on a bench, wrapped up in cloth yet practically vibrating with divinity.

"Wow. There it is. Powered up by Dad Himself. Well, that bad boy, plus me—that oughta take her out alright," he said. And still, strangely, everyone remained quiet. He clapped his hands together. "Let's get to it. Douse the flames." Silence. He frowned and snapped his fingers, watching the Winchesters' shifting expressions. "... or don't?"

Dean sliced his palm and slapped an intricate hidden from view.

The ground beneath Lucifer's feet suddenly lit up with a large, burning sigil. His face contorted, and he began to shudder, his vessel twitching and shaking as the magic went to work.

"Cas!" Dean called. "Castiel, show yourself!"

Lucifer's expression cleared. Breathing heavily, he blinked a few times, as if struggling to focus on his surroundings. A low ringing filled the air. Then, he managed, "Dean?"

His voice, so low and gravelly and familiar, was the only evidence Dean needed. He rushed over, as close as he could to the fire.

"Cas."

"What are you doing?" Cas asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's—What's going on?"

"Cas, listen to me," Dean urged. "We don't have a whole lot of time, okay? You've got to—"

Cas coughed and doubled over. He blinked rapidly, the ringing noise intensifying. His whole body shook with whatever internal conflict he was having with Lucifer.

"Cas?" Dean stepped closer to the fire. "Castiel, show yourself!"

His cries of pain morphed into low chuckling as Lucifer regained control. Lucifer wheezed a laugh, his lips curved into something that resembled a snarl more than a smile. The ringing noise cut off.

"Oh!" Lucifer exclaimed, shoulders heaving with exertion. "Whoo!" He cleared his throat. "He's, uh, he's got to what?" Letting out a huff, he straightened to his full height, using every inch of Castiel's tall build. "You boys—ooh, you almost had me there for a minute, but these mail-order spells, they're just not what they're cracked up to be, are they?"

"Cas, expel him!" Dean ordered. "You gotta kick Lucifer out, do you hear me?!"

"Honestly," Lucifer said, "I think he's happy with the arrangement." He took a step forward, the sigil at his feet sizzling. "I mean, he did invite me in and all, Dean."

"Cas!" Dean yelled.

"Cas!" Lucifer yelled back mockingly. His jesting smile vanished. "Hand over the weapon. What do you say? Or we can just wait for this warding to fail and I'll take it."

The sigil fizzled out of existence. Crowley backed up, ready to disappear with the Horn of Joshua if necessary. Rowena closed her eyes and pressed herself against the wall.

"Bloody hell," Crowley muttered. He dropped into a chair, tipped back his head, and opened his mouth. Red smoke poured out of his vessel and arced across the room, then slipped into Lucifer's vessel and vanished. Lucifer's eyes closed, his shoulders slumping. Everything went quiet.

In Castiel's mind...

"Is it going to be alright?"

Crowley blinked at his new surroundings. From the looks of it... the Winchesters' bunker. Faint voices echoed from the room nearby.

"It's going to be alright!"

"Oh, you bet! Dear friends, it is going to be alright."

He stepped into the area. Across the space, seated at a chair, eyes fixed on a small TV, was Castiel. He reached up to the fiddle with the antenna.

"Castiel?" Crowley called.

"Oh, Crowley," Cas remarked, barely sparing him a glance. "What are you doing here?"

"Is this the Winchesters' kitchen?" Crowley asked.

"Sort of. I come here in my mind to pass the time. For some reason, it has excellent reception."

"What's wrong with you? What has Lucifer done to you?"

Castiel shrugged a little. "Well, he mostly just leaves me alone. I'm just waiting here, you know, for the battle with the Darkness."

"He's really got his hooks in you," Crowley muttered. "Snap out of it. Do you know what's happening out there? The Winchesters have trapped the abomination so that you can expel him, so that they can put him back in the Cage!"

"Well, that doesn't sound like a very good idea," Cas murmured. He rested his chin in his palm.

"In your current state, you're in no position to judge."

Frowning, Cas lowered his hand and looked up at Crowley. "Wait. That was Dean I saw a minute ago, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"And he wants me to expel Lucifer?"

"Yes!" Crowley snapped, barely containing his frustration.

Cas laughed. He resumed his former position, gazing lazily at the television screen. "Well... he may have a more objective view of the situation. Maybe I should."

"So let's do it now, before it's too late," Crowley urged.

"It already is."

Crowley stiffened.

In the doorway—his fingers laced together and lips quirked into a dangerous smile—was Lucifer.

Lucifer let out a long sigh. He was back in his first vessel, Nick, dressed in dad jeans and his eyes the color of arctic ice. He picked at the wooden frame, as if Crowley wasn't worth his full attention. "Really, Crowley? You want to put me back in the Cage?" He smirked. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you."

Back in reality, Sam glanced back at Crowley's still vessel. "You know, he's been gone a long time," Sam said. "I mean, what do you think is going on?"

"I don't know," Dean replied. "Maybe Cas isn't willing to play ball. I mean, you said it yourself—he wanted this."

"Can't you people do anythin' right?!" Rowena shrieked, springing into view. "Whilst all this dithering goes on, we're losing time! Look—The warding's beginning to fail!"

Sure enough, the flames were dying down, and the sigils were already burnt out.

"Come on, Cas, what the hell?" Dean muttered.

Crash!

Crowley collided with a cabinet, groaning. He barely had a moment to recover when Lucifer grabbed his shoulders and flung him across the room, sending him skidding over Castiel's table and rolling to the floor.

"You second-rate bean counter!" Lucifer hissed.

Cas adjusted his TV, rolling his eyes. "Guys, you're gonna break something."

Lucifer shoved him to his feet, where he stumbled, disoriented. "You wanted my throne—"

A glass went shattering over Crowley's head.

"You plotted to replace me!"

Plates and cutlery clanged as Lucifer dragged him across the counter and hurled him into a rack of pots and pans, creating a great cacophony of clattering and noise.

In the church, Sam suddenly frowned. A strange sizzling sound reached their ears. He turned to Crowley's vessel.

There, the words 'HELP ME' were burned into his forehead.

Dean grabbed a flask of holy water while Sam brandished a cross and began to chant an exorcism.

"As if ambition," Lucifer snarled, "and posturing were the same as majesty!" He pinned Crowley to the wall and wrapped a hand around his throat, smile vicious. Crowley spluttered, clawing at Lucifer's iron grip. "Everyone in Hell despises you and sees you for what exactly what you are—"

Crowley choked and gasped.

"—nothing."

Then, suddenly—

...legio diabolica, adiuramus te. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas...

Lucifer tilted his head, listening. Crowley could've sobbed with relief as Sam finished the exorcism and he was expelled from the vessel, fleeing back to his original body with desperation unparalleled.

"Crowley," Sam said.

"Useless," Crowley forced out. "Lucifer's hold on him is too strong."

"Lads, the fire!" Rowena cried.

The ring of holy fire flickered out of existence and with it, Rowena scrambled to hide behind the pillar once more.

Lucifer slowly opened his eyes. Where he was slightly annoyed before, he was downright furious now. He tipped his head from side to side, rolling his shoulders.

"Ah." He sighed, and when he spoke, he sounded almost genuinely disappointed. "Trick me? You lied to me. You know, I could've been your warrior." He waved his hand. "Ah, who needs ya?"

Sam spun on his heel and scrambled to grab the Horn of Joshua, but it launched itself from the ground and landed neatly in Lucifer's hand.

"Well," Crowley said. And then he was gone.

"It's just like Crowley to leave right when the party's getting started," Lucifer commented. "Have a seat."

The brothers were abruptly pushed into sitting positions by an invisible force. Lucifer took a few steps forward, admiring the Horn absently.

"As much as I get a giggle out of you two, and I do, there comes a time when every relationship has run its course. So..." Lucifer held out a hand and curled his fingers into a fist.

Sam and Dean choked as Lucifer cut off their air flow. He watched them strain for oxygen with a smirk, twisting his hand to incite another round of groans.

And then the windows behind him exploded.

The whole side of the church blew inwards with a deafening boom!, showering the room with shards of glass and wood splinters. Lucifer frowned as he regarded the damage.

From the dust cloud emerged a tall, slim woman, her hair tumbling down in curls and her dress a solid black color. Her entire being hummed with power, her darkness threatening to overwhelm them at any moment. Lucifer knew it well.

The look Amara gave him was utterly terrifying, but he stood his ground.

"Oh, Lucifer," Amara mused. She sneered down at him. "Dear nephew... my, how you've changed."

Lucifer resisted the very strong urge to say something about inheriting it from her.

"I was tracking her when she left my side," Amara continued, fixing her eyes on Rowena.

"You were safely sealed away," Lucifer said. He cracked a grin. "You're gonna wish you'd stayed there."

In his hands, the Horn of Joshua lit up with a bright yellow glow. The color sank into his skin and spread through his body, filling him with divine grace and turning his eyes a piercing white. He extended his palm, and white power exploded from his fingertips, slamming into Amara's chest and stirring up gale-force winds around the church. He poured his own grace into it, adding to the blast. Inside him, Castiel did the same. They watched the brilliant golden light envelop Amara, drowning out her Darkness with Light.

The Horn's glow faded. Lucifer felt the warmth of his Father's light drain out of him.

Amara was still standing. And she looked pissed.

Lucifer stared at her. Castiel's grace twisted, shrinking behind him, confused and scared.

Eyes narrowed, Amara raised one hand. An invisible force surrounded him and began pulling him towards her, his shoes scraping against the ground in a weak attempt to resist. The Horn clattered out of his grip. When he was mere inches from her, the force vanished, though he could still feel something restricting his wings. He couldn't fly away.

"I think you and I need to have a nice, long chat," Amara murmured, cupping his face in her hands.

"Cas?" Dean called out, one last time.

Amara glanced over at him. Something like regret flickered in her eyes, much to Lucifer's bewilderment. She flourished a hand, and his hold on the Winchesters was dispelled. Lucifer gawked.

Then she fixed a glare on him again, and a flash of white engulfed them.

~ The Bunker ~

"So, Rowena and Crowley—Like mother, like son, huh?" Sam remarked. "They both took exactly one split second to take off when things started going south."

"Yep." Dean picked up a bottle of beer and sat down.

"By the way, wh-what's Rowena doing with Amara?"

"My guess? She's playing the odds. When sucking up to Lucifer didn't work out, maybe she thought Amara was the best bet. Then she heard Lucifer had a shot, so she switched horses again."

"I thought Lucifer had a shot," Sam admitted quietly. "Apparently, archangel plus God power doesn't trump God's sister."

"But if the thing has to be used by God's chosen," Dean said, "then maybe an archangel who got the boot doesn't qualify." Sam raised an eyebrow in consideration. "Either way, Horn's outta ammo, so..."

"So, back to square one."

"Yep."

A pause. "Listen, um..." Sam swallowed. "I know I came down on the side of wanting Cas to deal with Amara, so—"

"Well, that's what he wanted though, right?" Dean met his gaze, his expression blank. "Besides, didn't we say we were gonna swear off getting in the way when one person makes a choice the other doesn't agree with?"

Sam nodded a bit. "Yeah, um... yeah, we did say that."

"So..."

"Okay. So, that's our policy."

"Which sounds damn good." Dean took a swig of his drink. "Well, let's go find that idiot and bring him home."

~ The abandoned factory ~

Lucifer slammed into the wall with a groan. Amara stared him down, one hand held out in his direction.

"Okay," Lucifer panted. He threw his arms up in a gesture of surrender. Time to negotiate. "Okay. Look, I know you have major beef with me. You probably want to finish me. But you may want to rethink your position. 'Cause I could actually be of use to you."

"Really?" Amara said, disbelieving.

"You hadn't considered?" He was thinking lightning quick now, knowing that one wrong word would get his grace eaten and his body destroyed. Castiel recoiled at the idea. "We both have an ax to grind with God. I know His soft spots. He can't handle us both."

"Do you, for one moment, think that I would actually consider trusting you? For anything?"

Lucifer only watched her, smiling.

"I did trust you, once," Amara admitted. "You and my brother conspired to seal me away for eons." She paused. "But you're right. You might be of some use to me."

"Alright," Lucifer said, taking a step forward and away from the wall. "Good. Now we're talking—"

A slight gesture from Amara, and then he was being tossed to the wall again, his head banging against the metal. He coughed.

"As God's favorite, His first son, you may be the one thing in all of creation that He still cares about. The one thing that could finally make Him show Himself so that I can confront Him, and He can acknowledge the wrongs He's done me." Amara drew close, close enough for Lucifer to see the threat of tears in her eyes. "And then, He can witness the utter destruction of all His creation... before He Himself is swept away."

"You're expecting him? Oh." Lucifer knew she was probably messed up from being locked away, but this was downright delusion. Everyone knew that God didn't love Lucifer, not anymore. And He sure as hell wouldn't show up for His failure of a son, no matter what Amara did to him. "Well... I wouldn't wait up. I'm pretty sure He caught the last train out."

"Well,"Amara said. "We'll see, won't we?" She flung out her hand. White light engulfed him, burning his grace with her raw fury and power, incinerating him from the inside out.

Lucifer tipped back his head and screamed.