Book 43 - Stronger Than The Night

by GailDunn2

WARNING: ADULT THEMES AND SITUATIONS. God's shocking decision changes the Earth's landscape as three factions do battle upon it. How much is too much? Who will stand up to the Almighty, and what will be the cost?

7. Questions 67 And 68

Chapter 6 - Questions 67 And 68

Everyone was having a drink, even the Angels. Frank had proposed a toast to Eric, the fallen Hunter, and they had all felt like they should participate.

The men still smelled like smoke, from the pyre that they had lit beneath Eric's body. Rob had advised his dad that the brothers had talked about this kind of situation. Of course they had. They were Hunters, and they had seen way too much violence and death in their young lives. Eric had told Rob that if his time ever came, he wanted a Hunter's funeral. There was just something about it that seemed noble to him. Rob had rolled his eyes. Yeah. Right. Eric hadn't been around when they'd had that Hunter funeral for Dean, so it was easy for him to say. As it turned out, that hadn't been Dean who the men had burned after all, but they hadn't known that at the time.

And now, Ron had undergone the worst rite of passage a Hunter could ever experience; he had been one of the torch bearers at his own brother's funeral. But this time, there had been no bait-and-switch. That had been Eric they'd burned, all right. Rob had wrapped his brother in that shroud, himself. And he'd done it BY himself. His Dad, Gramps, and Uncles Sam and Dean and Cas had all offered to help, but he had turned them all down. Rob had wanted to have one last conversation with his brother. It would be pretty one-sided, he'd thought, channeling Frank's sense of humour for a moment. But, still.

So Rob had poured his heart out to Eric as he was wrapping him in the shroud. He'd Googled how to do that. It was amazing, the stuff you could find online. Rob hadn't wanted to ask any of the men how to do it, because he was afraid he would start bawling his eyes out. He knew that none of them would rag on him for it, but he still hadn't wanted to do it. As it was, he did plenty of crying during the procedure. Rob told Eric how great it had been to have a brother, and how much he was going to miss him. He'd tried to joke around like his Dad would about how he wouldn't miss Eric's smelly socks laying around all over the place, and the fact that his brother never, ever loaded the dishwasher, but then, Rob had to stop. He was a liar. He WOULD miss all those things. He would gladly put up with all of Eric's bad habits, if it meant that he could have him back again.

But as Rob completed his sad task, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. As heartbroken as he was right now, he had to remind himself that he wasn't the only one in their family who was grieving the loss of someone. In fact, everybody was, at the moment.

So they'd held the service, and Rob, Frank, Bobby, Sam, Dean and Cas had all been torch bearers. That was more than was necessary, but they'd all wanted to show their support for Rob by standing beside him.

Now, the nucleus members of the family were sitting around having a drink to Eric's memory. Karen was babysitting Angela back at Frank's house, and Ethan had taken Barry, Carolyn, Mike and the kids back to Canada. The adults had all attended the service, but the kids had not. They'd had way too many funerals in their family lately, and a general consensus had been reached that the children really didn't need to see a body being burned.

The topic at hand now was: Why? Why had Eric's adoptive mother shot him?

"I told you, Uncle Cas, I have no idea," Rob said. "It all happened so fast."

Cas pursed his lips, frustrated. He didn't want to interrogate his nephew, but there had to be something, some hint of a motive. "What were the three of you talking about, before Eric went upstairs?"

Rob sighed. "Just...stuff. Nothing weird. She wasn't being super friendly, but that wasn't unusual. I don't remember ever seeing her even smile, when we went to see her. It was like he wasn't welcome there, or something."

Gail's mind was working furiously. There was something really fishy going on, here. Well, aside from the fact that a woman who had adopted a baby and raised him all these years would just suddenly turn a gun on him, that was. Aside from that. She tried to imagine Frank's mom shooting her. No. No way. They'd had their differences, of course, but the notion was beyond ridiculous. What were they missing here?

"Wait a minute," Rob said. "I just remembered: besides that cabinet I told you guys about, there were a bunch of pictures on the walls."

"Pictures? Do you mean paintings?" Sam asked the young man.

"No; like, photos," Rob responded. "Of people."

Cas and Gabriel exchanged glances. "There wasn't anything like that when we went back there," Gabriel commented. "The walls were bare, and the weapons were gone."

"What was that thing she said, right before she threw that damn gris-gris bag on the floor?" Bobby asked aloud. Heads swiveled to look at him. "What?" he said, shrugging. "I know a thing or two about a thing or two, ya know. Who do you think taught these two everything?" He thumbed a gesture towards Sam and Dean.

Dean grumbled something that sounded like "not everything," and Frank's lips twitched briefly.

Gail and Cas were looking at each other. "It was French, but..." Cas started to say, and his wife was nodding. "It wasn't really proper French, though," she added, looking thoughtful. Then, her expression brightened. "You know what it reminded me of? The kind of Franch they spoke in New Orleans. Creole."

"Oh, THAT'S why it sounded so strange," Cas said. His forehead wrinkled. "The only word I could make out was 'manteau'. That means coat, or more precisely, a cloak."

"A cloaking spell?" Sam said, and several of them nodded.

"Great," Bobby fumed. "So she's taken a powder, who knows where, with a buncha weapons, planning who knows what. That about sum it up?"

They all looked at each other uncomfortably. Maybe Bobby was overstating it a bit, but not by much. No one was forgetting that Alice had shot at Rob, too.

"I have an idea," Sam said suddenly. "You guys can search peoples' minds, right? Why don't one of you do that with Rob? You might be able to elicit some more information, kind of like a hypnotist would." He looked at Rob. "Sometimes, when you've been through a traumatic experience, your mind represses certain facts about that experience."

Bobby was nodding. "That's a great idea. How about it, Rob? I can do it right now."

But Rob was pale now. "No. No, I don't want any of you guys to do that."

Cas thought he might know what the young man's objection was all about. "If you're worried about your privacy, all you need to do is concentrate. You can close the doors of the rooms where your personal memories are stored, and if you lock them, we cannot enter."

"Look, Rob, I'm not gonna look at anything personal. You have my word," Bobby assured him. "Believe me, anything you wouldn't want me to see is something I have no interest in seeing." His beard twitched. "I'm sure it would be the same, if it was the other way around."

Rob did a double-take. Ewww. He loved his Gramps, but he didn't want to think about anything like THAT in connection with him. But it wasn't that kind of stuff that was concerning Rob. It was his visions. They were random, and they were something he couldn't control. The Angels described a person's mind like it was a house with a bunch of rooms that contained memories, thoughts, hopes and dreams. Sounded pretty straightforward. But a psychic's mind worked differently. Rob could close and lock all the doors he wanted, and then suddenly, one of his visions would go running down the hall like a streaker on the field at a baseball game. Unexpected, and totally uncontrollable.

And even that might not be so bad, if Rob hadn't had the vision he'd had just after Eric's funeral. As they were walking to the bunker door, Sam had put his hand on Rob's shoulder to comfort him, and Rob had put his hand on Sam's. All of a sudden, the young man had seen Sam's son Brian. Becky was holding the baby, bouncing him gently up and down, and Rob had smiled. Cute kid. He was looking forward to hanging around with Brian when he got a little older. Maybe Becky would let Rob babysit, sometimes. He guessed they were sort of like cousins, in a way. He could tell Becky and Sam that he used to help his mom and dad out a lot with Angela. Family had always been really important to all of them, and it was especially important to Rob now that they'd lost so many loved ones recently.

But just as Rob had been about to make some kind of comment to Sam about baby Brian, the vision had changed. The infant began to wriggle in Becky's arms, and suddenly, Brian started to grow, bigger and bigger. Becky let go of him and he stood on the ground, so big that he looked like he was around ten years old. Suddenly, Brian took a knife out of his pants pocket, and attacked Becky with it. And, if that wasn't shocking enough, Rob saw Vincent standing next to Brian, and Vincent was laughing. What the hell?!

Rob had that in the back of his mind now, as Bobby was talking about looking in there. What if he saw something like THAT? Rob had no idea what it meant, but if Vincent was involved, it could only be bad. Rob's biological father had had a big black mark on his face that hadn't been there before, but it was definitely him. But why would he be with Becky and Brian, and why would Rob's vision show Brian killing his own mom? No. Until he saw more, there was no way Rob wanted Bobby or any of them going in his head.

"I want to go to a hypnotist," Rob blurted out. They were all looking at him funny now, but he didn't care. That would be all they needed, wouldn't it? He'd much rather keep the Angels out of his head now, until he could figure out what was going on.

Frank drained his beer. "OK, I don't know about anybody else, but I'm exhausted," he said. He looked at Gail. "Can you give me a lift, kiddo?"

"I want to come, too," Rob said, getting to his feet. "Is it OK if I stay at the house tonight, Dad?"

A lump formed in Frank's throat. "Ummm...yeah, Rob. It's your house, too. Stay as long as you want." He slung his arm around his son's shoulders. "You stay as long as you want."

Michelle and Benoit were talking on the phone. She had spent a couple of months in Paris during the summer, shopping and sightseeing. Ben, as she called him now, had joined her when he was able. They'd had fun, and she had to admit she'd enjoyed all of the pomp and privilege that accompanied having the President of the country as a fiance. Even when he'd had to work, Ben had dispatched an official car to take her anywhere she'd wanted to go. And practically everywhere she'd gone, Michelle had been greeted with a great deal of warmth and affection. Her fiance was the greatest leader France had ever had, people told her. Everyone felt safe to walk the streets again. There hadn't been one single terrorist threat since Monsieur Levesque had instituted his new policies. That was wonderful, she'd said. Maybe Michelle should talk to her fiance about arranging a state visit, so that he could teach her own President a few things. Then whoever she was talking to would laugh, and Michelle would laugh, and then she would change the subject. She was in Paris on a pleasure trip, and besides, Ms. Delacroix knew nothing about politics. She would leave matters like that in Monsieur Levesque's eminently capable hands.

The bloom was not yet off the rose for Michelle and Benoit, nor for the President and his people. The strategy of instituting the policy changes he'd wanted done slowly and gradually had turned out to be a brilliant one. Little by little, France was becoming a police state, and the beauty of it was that hardly anyone had even noticed. The bottom line was that Benoit had told the people that he was going to take action once he'd attained the office to make them all feel safe again, and he had. No one had really questioned his methods, because they had been so successful. Soon that status would change, as the laws and policies became more and more reminiscent of a Reich, rather than a Republic.

But at the moment, romance was alive and well in France, and between the engaged couple, as well.

"What would you say to a Christmas wedding?" Benoit was asking Michelle now. "We could have a candle-lit mass, on Christmas Eve. Wouldn't that be romantic?"

Michelle's heart sank. Yes. Yes, it would. There was only one problem: she couldn't do it. "I'm sorry, mon cher, but I'm committed to the Board of Directors for the Mardi Gras festivities. We'll probably have to be working through much of the Chrsitmas season."

Benoit frowned. Working through the Christmas season? Wasn't that sacrilege? Once the two of them were married, they were going to have to have a little chat about certain things, going forward. He understood that she meant well, and he also understood that although Michelle was a wealthy woman in her own right, she needed something to occupy her time. That was all right; once she was France's First Lady, there would be plenty for her to do. The polls his people had taken showed that his constituents liked Michelle, very much. She would be his Evita, going out there every day, greeting the good people of France. Performing charitable works, and endearing herself even more to them. Making Benoit look kind and benevolent, even as his laws gradually became more and more Draconian. "Bait and switch", was the commonly-used expression. By the time he was ready to institute the final solution, it would be much too late for anyone to stop him.

And he had his insurance, in the form of seven very eager young cabinet members with very special abilities, who were only too happy to show them off. Vincent's children would be of great use to him once the noose tightened around the necks of the people Benoit wanted gone.

Benoit didn't let on to Michelle that he was angry. He would just have to be patient a little longer. He could do that. After the President had practiced self-denial for a short time, he had decided that he didn't care for it. So when Michelle was overseas and unavailable to him, Benoit wined and dined one of his cabinet members, under the guise of business. After careful consideration, he had chosen young Lorrie for his mistress. He would have preferred Ursula; she was the epitome of Aryan beauty. But Ursula had too much venom in her personality. Lorrie was vain and spoiled, but she was also a great believer in the barter system. When Benoit did nice things for Lorrie, she was more than happy to do nice things for him. What they did after hours would not hurt Michelle, because she would not know about it. And if Benoit wanted to carry on a dalliance or two once he and Michelle were married, well, c'est la vie. The French were more relaxed about those types of things than the uptight Americans were. In many European countries, a man was almost expected to have a tryst outside his marriage, from time to time.

"A spring wedding in Paris would be lovely, though," Michelle said now. "The Mardi Gras season wraps up in early March. How does April sound to you?"

"Lovely," Benoit said, smiling.

Becky woke up in a cold sweat. She'd had that dream again. It always started out so good: she and Sam were in bed together, naked, and he was doing things to her, things she'd only read about. But they were all fantastic, because it was Sam who was doing them.

They'd bought a cute little two-storey house in the country, and the yellow schoolbus came to the end of their driveway every day to pick Brian up for school in the morning. He was always older in her dreams, because Becky was sick and tired of changing diapers and wiping up spit. In dreams, you could make anything happen. So in Becky's dreams, when Brian went off to school with his backpack and his lunch that Becky had so lovingly prepared, Brian's mom and dad went back upstairs and did it, over and over again. Sam wanted a little sister for Brian, so they were having sex a lot. Which suited Becky just fine. Sam didn't need to know that she was taking The Pill every morning with her coffee. Becky loved Sam, but there was no way she was going to even consider going back to the diapers, and the spit. Hey, she'd given him a Winchester boy, hadn't she? Then hadn't she done enough?

In the dream, Sam had installed a great big mirror in the bedroom, and Becky found herself watching the two of them going at it far more often than she probably should. Maybe it was because they were both so good-looking, and they looked so sexy together. It was kind of like watching a porno that you could feel, if that made any sense. Sam was so handsome, so muscular. And boy, was he good. It was a good thing their nearest neighbour lived a couple of miles away, in her fantasies. When her husband did certain things to her, things that maybe weren't so gentle, Becky tended to get noisy.

And then that's when things in the dream would either get really, really good, or extremely bad, depending on which version it happened to be. In the good version, when Becky started to express herself, Sam would get really intense, and Becky would get carried away by the waves of pleasure she felt. Then Sam would be kissing her, and she would be kissing him, and it was all just so...good.

But, in the other version, when Becky started to make noise, Sam would get rough. Pulling her hair, choking her, hurting her in other ways. And sometimes, even that wasn't too bad, until she looked in the mirror and saw that it was Vincent doing that stuff to her. And other times, Sam and Vincent kind of morphed together. One time, it was Sam, but he had that big black mark on his face that Vincent had, and when he'd seen her looking, his eyes had gone red.

It had been another one of those kinds of dreams that had woken her up this morning. As soon as she sat up in bed, she listened intently for any sounds coming from Brian. Thankfully, all was quiet at the moment. Becky must not have cried out in her sleep, this time. She looked towards the foot of the bed. Becky had moved Brian back into her room, after his crib had just suddenly collapsed one day. Now he was in his bassinet on top of the chest, so she could keep him near. Brian was a needy baby, so it was just as well. But right now, Becky had to pee like crazy. So she eased the covers off of herself and crept quietly past him into the bathroom.

Becky washed her face and hands afterwards, and looked at herself in the mirror. She still looked pretty good, but she was tired. Were those bags under her eyes? She had to get more sleep. Sometimes she lived for those dreams, but when they turned bad, she could never get back to sleep afterwards.

She went back into the bedroom, looking down at Brian. He was sleeping peacefully. Must be nice.

Becky was starting to get a hinky feeling. Actually, if she was being honest with herself, she'd had it for quite some time, now. She wasn't attracted to Vincent; not even a little bit. It didn't make sense that she should be dreaming that kind of stuff about him. And it was even worse when that ugly black mark that Vincent had on his face appeared on Sam's face in the dream, or when Vincent's head appeared on Sam's body.

She wished she could figure out what to do about it. They said that a lot of dreams you had on a regular basis had a hidden meaning. If only she could...then, Becky remembered: maybe there WAS something she could do. She moved over to where her purse sat, on the dresser. A few days ago, she'd run into Trudy, one of the older models from the agency. They'd gone to the Food Court in the mall for coffee, and Trudy had oohed and aahed over Brian.

"So THIS is why we never see you anymore!" Trudy had exclaimed delightedly. Then she'd started talking baby talk to Brian, as Becky tried not to roll her eyes.

They'd talked for a little while about how everybody was doing, and then Becky'd started to realize how lonely she was. She hardly ever saw Sam any more, and she was never invited to any of their social events. Probably because Gail was usually behind most of the party planning, and she didn't like Becky. The way Becky saw it, that must be the reason.

"What's the matter, Becky?" Trudy asked her.

Becky sighed. "I think I might have that post-whatever depression thing," she said to the woman. "I'm not really sleeping much."

"You should call the guy I've been seeing," Trudy had told her, rummaging in her purse. She came up with a business card, handing it to the girl. "Dr. Esmond is great. I was depressed myself, a while ago, and he helped me. I quit smoking, and I was stuffing myself. I gained nearly fifteen pounds! So, he hypnotized me, and now, I don't overeat any more. Maybe he can hypnotize you to feel less depressed, or something."

Becky looked at the card with a dubious expression. Really? Sounded weird to her. But maybe she should just talk to the guy, anyway. If he was a doctor, at the very least, maybe he could give her some advice on how to get more sleep.

She took his card out of her purse now, looking at the clock. Why not? She got her cell phone out, and made the call.

Cas and Gail were at their house on Earth, and he was following her around the place as she was waving her arms, doing a little housecleaning. They were away so often that the dust would accumulate, and occasionally, there would be a cobweb or two. No spider was getting the chance to set up shop at her house, she told her husband sassily, and he assured her that if they spotted one, it would not survive.

There was really no reason for Cas to follow her around from room to room, but he was doing it, anyway. The recent deaths in their family had made him all too acutely aware that one should never take one's loved ones for granted. Chuck, Tommy, Emma, Liz, and Eric had all been murdered, and Emma's killer had not been identified. It was not only the humans in their family who might be in jeopardy at any given moment.

They were talking about that now. As Gail was cleaning the house, she was also thinking about the killings. "I wonder why Alice spoke that spell in French," she commented aloud. "Especially since it was Creole. That could be a clue. Maybe she's in New Orleans, somewhere. But, how can we track her down, if she's cloaked?"

"Didn't you tell me that there were voodoo practitioners there?" Cas asked his wife. "Maybe we could talk to some of them."

Gail was frowning. "Maybe," she echoed. Any mention of voodoo made her think of Vincent, of course. He had been blessedly quiet for a while now, and while that didn't necessarily alleviate her nervousness about him, she would rather not stir up that particular hornet's nest, if they could help it. "I'll tell you what," she continued. "Let's wait and see if the hypnotist Frank is taking Rob to can help him figure out what he saw in that room. If we can find out what the pictures he saw were pictures OF, maybe we'll have more to go on."

"All right, my love," Cas said, nodding. Suddenly, he had that unfocused look, the one that signaled he was receiving a call on Angel Radio. Strange, Gail thought. She wasn't getting anything.

Gabriel was sending the message to Cas on their private frequency, and there was a reason for it. No one had seen Gabriel for a few days, not since Eric's funeral. He'd been keeping a low profile since Liz's murder. That was understandable, of course. Everyone grieved in their own way, and Gabe had always been an independent type of guy. Gail had asked Cas if they shouldn't try to find him, to make sure he was all right. Cas had considered that for a moment, but then he'd shaken his head. Gabriel was the kind of man who might get angry if he thought they were keeping tabs on him. Give their Brother a few more days, and then if they didn't hear from Gabriel, Cas would seek him out.

But now it was Gabriel who was contacting Cas, and the reason he had done so privately was because he had Lanister tied up in an abandoned house, on the outskirts of town.

"It's Gabriel," Cas told his wife now, and she brightened. "Oh, good," Gail said, approaching her husband. "We can go see him, find out how he's doing."

"No," Cas said quickly, and she looked at him curiously. "He said he wants to talk to me alone. Man to man." Well, that was kind of the truth. But the purpose of Gabe's call had been much more sinister than that. It was for that reason that Gabe had wanted to exclude Gail, and Cas agreed wholeheartedly. "Why don't you go with Frank and Rob to the doctor's office?" Cas suggested. "You can lend them our moral support, and find out what Rob saw. I will have a visit with Gabriel, and lend him our moral support, too. Then, when we are done talking, I'll come and find you. Okay?"

"OK, Cas," Gail said affably. She had no idea what was really going on. She gave him a kiss and then winked out, to go to Frank's house.

Cas sighed. He was glad that she hadn't raised an objection. He checked his pocket for his blade, then popped out of the house.

Frank had insisted on driving Rob to Dr. Esmond's office, even though Gail had said she could just pop them over there. He'd told Gail that he wanted to be with Rob for a while, to help him through the grieving process.

"What about your job?" Gail asked her brother, as they waited for Rob to emerge from his room. He'd moved back into the house from his and Eric's apartment for the time being.

"Compassionate leave," Frank answered with a brief grin. "Say what you will about City Hall, but there are lots of ways to take care of your business, if you know what I mean."

Gail shrugged. It occurred to her now that she'd never actually had to think about that kind of thing, in terms of having an actual job. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad one.

Rob came into the kitchen. "Ready to go?" Frank asked his son.

Rob sighed, frowning. He was a little apprehensive about this whole operation, and his dad's sense of humour wasn't exactly helping. This morning, before Aunt Gail had gotten here, Rob's dad was telling him he'd seen a hypnotist on TV who had gotten people to bark like dogs and cluck like chickens, every time a bell rang. Rob knew his dad was only kidding around, but he was nervous about the whole process. He'd looked it up online, and from what he had read, you were in some kind of a trance, or something. Not asleep, but not awake, either. The doctor would send you mentally back to that time and place, and you would see what you saw when you were there before. So, Rob would have to see Eric's mom shooting him, all over again. Great. But he had to "man up", and do it. They needed to find Alice. There was something fishy about that whole thing. They couldn't have her out there somewhere, with all those weapons. Clearly, the woman was crazy.

"Yeah, I guess so, Dad," Rob said in response to Frank's question.

"What about Angela?" Gail asked her brother.

"Bobby took her to the park," Frank replied. "These are her last few days of freedom before she starts school, so I wanted her to try and have some fun, before that. She's been pretty down about Eric's death, too. It's hard for a kid her age to understand, and it's almost impossible for me to explain it to her, 'cause I don't understand it, either," he added with a frown.

A minute or two later, the three of them left the house.

"Cas, I'm losing it," Gabriel said to his Brother. He was pacing back and forth in the backyard of the house where he was holding Lanister captive. Cas hadn't seen the Archangel like this in years and years; not since the time of the Angel Wars. Gabe had Lanister's blade in his hand, and it was stained red with Liz's killer's blood. Gabriel had pretty much done exactly what Cas would have done: he had called in some old favours to track the former Upper Echelon board member down, seized him, and brought him here. Lanister was being defiant, unrepentant about Liz's murder. Gabe had gone to work on the former Angel with the blade in a white-hot rage, but then, he had made himself stop. Was what he was doing right now going to bring Liz back? No, of course not. Was that really who Gabriel was? Was that who Liz would want him to be?

So Gabe had called Cas and asked him to come, but as the Archangel looked at his Brother, he realized this might have been a mistake. Asking Castiel if he should stand down from torturing and killing the one who had killed Liz might be a little like asking a wolf if he wanted to eat a salad.

But, Cas surprised him. His Brother was all for torturing Lanister, but: "We should try to keep him alive for as long as possible, so that he will give us Xavier and Mark," Cas said. "The two of them are cowards, but I would still like to have them all. Then we can send them back to Hell, where they belong."

Gabriel nodded. Cas was right. All three of those men had been in Hell for a reason. Now was not the time to go soft. He said a quick mental prayer, asking Liz to look the other way for a minute.

He and Cas entered the house.

Dr. Esmond had hypnotized Becky, and she was re-living the night that she and Sam had conceived Brian. She had helped an extremely drunk Sam into bed, and then she had come back out to the living room area of the hotel suite fuming, complaining to Vincent that her would-be lover had passed out. Then Vincent had fixed her a drink, telling her to relax. Let Sam sleep it off for a bit, and then she could take care of business.

Becky drank the drink that Vincent had prepared for her, and the next thing she remembered, she and Sam had been making love. But now that she looked more closely, there were a couple of things that didn't add up. They were having sex on the couch, not in the bed. Why would they be on the couch? Had Sam come out there, looking for her? But he had been passed out cold. She looked at Sam's face. He had that black mark on his face, just like he did in her nightmares.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Becky thought. She fought her way to the surface. No. It couldn't be. It was Vincent! Vincent was Brian's father!

Cas had moved in front of Gabriel, taking his own blade out of his pocket. Lanister was eyeing both of them warily.

"So, the mighty Archangel calls on his attack dog to finish the job," Lanister said, sneering. "What's the matter, Gabriel? Are you not man enough to deal with me, yourself?"

Gabe tried not to rise to the bait. "I called in a specialist," he said calmly. "You know how skilled Castiel is in these matters. He knows how to torture a guy for days, without actually killing him."

Lanister was suspicious. "Why would you not just kill me?" he asked the men.

Castiel shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on a chair. "Because we want Xavier and Mark," he said quietly. "And you are going to give them to us. The question is, how long will it take, for us to receive the answers we need? How much pain and suffering are you prepared to endure?" He approached Lanister slowly, rolling up his shirt sleeves. "I would say that you will break in about ten minutes, at the most. You are a coward, who is only brave when he is dealing with a woman. I have not forgotten how you threatened to send Jason after my wife, following the tribunal. And now, you have killed an innocent Angel, a female you had no quarrel with. You are a disgrace. I will have you begging for mercy, and when you do, I will ask you what sort of mercy you gave Liz. And then, when I send all three of you back to Hell, screaming in agony, you will tell every Demon there that they can expect the same fate, if they harm any members of my family." He held his blade up, looking at Lanister speculatively. "Now: where to begin?"

Becky came rushing out of Dr. Esmond's office, white as a sheet. He was calling out to her to stop, but she was too panicked. Vincent was Brian's father! Vincent. Not Sam.

Becky had left Brian with the receptionist while she'd gone in, and the woman looked up, startled. She misunderstood Becky's haste. "Don't worry, your son is fine," Jill said, smiling. "He's a real cutie-pie. He's been good as gold."

Gail stood from her chair. "Becky? What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, surprised. In one of those incredible coincidences that life sometimes features, Rob's appointment had been scheduled directly after Becky's, and the three of them had been sitting there, waiting.

Becky's eyes widened even further. Crap! Of all the people to run into here, Gail was one of the worst. Luckily, Becky hadn't said anything out loud, but still...She needed to take Brian home and think about what she had just found out. She grabbed the handles of the stroller and wheeled Brian out of the reception area, past a startled Gail, Frank, and Rob.

Gail was open-mouthed. "What the hell was THAT all about?" she said to the others.

Frank shrugged. "Dunno." He looked at the receptionist. "Can my son go in, now?"

"I suppose so," the woman said, shrugging.

Gail was still staring after Becky. "I'm going after her," she told Frank. "I've got to find out. Rob'll be in there for an hour, right? I'll be back in a few minutes." She put her hand on Rob's arm. "Try your best, OK?" she said to her half-brother. "I know it won't be pleasant, but we really need to see if we can come up with anything that'll help us figure out where Alice is, and why she did that."

Rob was frowning. Not that any of that would bring Eric back, or anything. But he guessed she was right, if only for the reason that they should lock up Eric's mom for life, for what she'd done.

Rob was ushered into the doctor's office, Gail rushed out the door to try to catch up with Becky, and Frank sat down to wait. Look at all these magazines on being crazy, he thought. He started leafing through them. Pages and pages of medical gobbledy-gook, and tons of ads for drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. He squinted at the lists of side effects for some of them. Wow. The side effects were worse than the disease. In some cases, they were actually the same as the thing that you were trying to cure. Incredibly, one of the meds for mental illness carried a possible side effect of suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Frank had to shake his head vigorously at that one. There must be a million really inappropriate jokes about that fact alone. But, hey, he had an hour to kill. No pun intended. Maybe he would wait until Gail got back, and tell her some of them, really quietly. Then she would laugh out loud, making the receptionist look, and Frank would be innocently trying to read his magazine. Then he would do it again, and then again. It had been way too long since he'd embarrassed his sister in public. Maybe, when they were ready to leave, the woman would suggest that Gail should make an appointment to see the shrink, too. Wouldn't that be hilarious?

While Frank was amusing himself, Gail was standing with Becky next to the young woman's car, in the parking lot of the medical building.

Damn it! Becky thought. If she hadn't had to do all that stuff for Brian, she would have been out of here by now. But she'd had to open the car, put him in the seat, buckle him up, open the trunk, collapse the stroller and put it in there, and then put the diaper bag in the back. But once she'd done all that, Becky had smelled the unmistakable scent, and she'd groaned loudly. "I just changed you, before I went in for my appointment!" she complained. Brian had no comment to make.

So Becky'd had to change the baby, and that act had delayed her leaving the strip mall where the hypnotist's office was. There was no way she was driving home with that poopy smell all over the car. But now, here was Gail. Great. Of all the times for Becky to run into HER.

"Hi, Becky," Gail said to the girl. "How are you? Is everything OK? You rushed out of there pretty fast."

"Yeah, it's fine. Everything is fine," Becky said unconvincingly.

Gail eyed the girl. She was acting weird. They hadn't seen each other in ages. Since the four of them had never gone to Mount Kilimanjaro, Gail and Sam had never visited Becky. Still, Gail knew that Brian was the Beast of the Apocalypse, because Cas and Gabriel had told her so, a while back. It was strange to think about that when she looked at him, though. Brian looked just like any other baby to Gail.

But, knowing what she knew, Gail was on alert, now. Why was Becky seeing a hypnotist? Why did she look so freaked out?

"You have something on your forehead," Gail said, reaching out to the young woman. Becky didn't suspect a thing. Gail looked into Becky's mind and saw what the young girl had just learned: Vincent was Brian's father! Sam and Becky hadn't had sex at all. Sam had passed out on the bed in the suite, and Vincent had "roofied" Becky, sexually assaulted her, and impregnated her with the Beast.

Gail's head was spinning. Holy mother-loving...Crap! Several things occurred to her, all at once. The first thing was that this certainly explained a lot. It hadn't made any sense to Gail that a great guy like Sam would have fathered the actual Beast of the Apocalypse. Vincent? Sure. Absolutely. Just when Gail thought her father couldn't sink any lower, he managed to do it. But now, she was wondering WHY. Had he done it just to mess with them? Had he known that this one was going to be the Beast? Was he planning to sic the kid on them, when his son got a little older? What kind of powers did Brian have, anyway?

Gail was gaping at Becky now. She would have to say something, in a minute. She'd modified Becky's memory so that the girl wouldn't remember that Gail had just touched her forehead, so it was time to act innocent. But, boy, was it difficult. Gail needed to talk to Cas and Gabriel, and she needed to talk to them now.

"It was good to see you, Becky," Gail made herself say, and then she turned and went back into the building. The young mother stared after Gail for a moment. Then, she got in her car and drove away.

Rob was back at Alice's house now in his mind, running up the stairs two at a time. He burst into the room. Eric's mom had a gun, and she was shooting his brother! "Eric!" he yelled, and Dr. Esmond placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's all right, Rob. You're only having a vision," he said soothingly. "There's no danger, here. Tell me what you see."

"Eric," Rob said in a more subdued tone, but now, he was crying. "Eric's shot. He's gonna die. He's going to push me out of the room, and then he's gonna die..."

"What's on the walls, Rob?" the doctor inquired. "What do you see on the walls of the room?"

"Pictures. Pictures of people," Rob replied.

"What kinds of people? What do they look like? Is there anything distinctive about them?" Dr. Esmond persisted.

"Just...people," Rob said tonelessly. "Guys, girls, a few kids...Wait! Wait a second! I know some of them! There's Toby, and Cody. And Ursula. Eric and I used to joke about her. She was way out of our league. Oh, and there's Ricky, with an 'X' on his face. He's dead." Now, Rob was on the verge of tears again. "Just like Eric. Why? Why did they have to kill them?"

Dr. Esmond was taken aback. He hadn't expected to hear anything like this. But the patient was becoming very agitated, now. It was time to bring him out.

Frank's head had snapped up when he'd heard Rob yell, but Gail put her hand on her brother's arm in case he was thinking of rushing in there. He sat back again, but he was looking at the door that led to the doctor's office with a look of suspicion on his face.

Gail had come back up to the waiting room after her encounter with Becky, her mind whirling a mile a minute. Now, her emotions were weighing in. Wow. Vincent had raped Becky. What WAS it with these guys? Vincent, Lucifer...what made them think that they were entitled to DO crap like that? Now, Gail was feeling kind of bad about all of the nasty things she'd said about Becky, when they'd found out the girl was pregnant.

Then again, on the other hand...Like Patricia after what had been done to her, Becky was hardly lily-white in this situation. She had Sam believing the baby was his. She had sat there at Gail and Cas's Christmas feast, and ruined their digestion. She had had Sam and Cas running around at her beck and call, buying her anything and everything she wanted. She had broken up Sam and Quinn's relationship, and she had driven a wedge between Sam and Dean. Becky had a lot to answer for.

But, on the other hand, if Vincent had drugged Becky, or put some kind of voodoo spell on her or whatever the hell he'd done, wasn't it possible that she actually thought the baby WAS Sam's? But then, if that was the case, why had Becky refused to take the paternity tests that Dean and Gail had wanted her to take?

There was an old song that Frank used to listen to, back when he still played record albums on his mom's record player, Gail thought now. The song was called "Questions 67 and 68". What a weird name for a song. She never did figure out what it was about, but the title was certainly apt in this situation. She had at least that many questions bouncing around in her head right now.

Dr. Esmond opened his office door, looking at Frank. "May I see you for a minute?"

Gail and the hypnotist weren't the only ones whose heads were full of questions at the moment.

Castiel and Gabriel had tortured and menaced Lanister for a couple of hours now, and he'd refused to give them Xavier and Mark. He had cried out in pain, screaming and protesting that he didn't know where they were. But Castiel didn't believe him.

"You are a liar, and a coward," he said to Lanister, working his jaw. "I do not know why you are shielding them. They would not do it for you, if the situation were reversed."

Lanister was slumped against his bonds, broken and bleeding. He had been defiant at first, but now, he just wanted this to be over. He honestly didn't know where the other men were. They had gone their separate ways after Lanister had killed Liz. Now, he suspected he might know why. By killing Castiel's wife's friend and Gabriel's fiancee, Lanister had painted a huge target on himself. Xavier and Mark had probably wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, due to that fact alone.

Gabriel was standing by, with his arms folded in front of him. At first, the cold and cruel nature of the torture that Castiel had subjected Lanister to had unsettled Gabriel a little. But then, he had thought about his wonderful, sweet Liz. She had been the purest woman - no, the purest PERSON - he had ever met, in every positive sense of the word. She didn't deserve what this bastard had done to her. So Gabriel had closed his ears to Lanister's pleas and his screams for mercy, and watched as Castiel did his thing.

But now, Gabriel was starting to think that they were wasting their time. Nobody could withstand that much pain and not give up the information, unless they had no information to give. He was considering their options when Lanister suddenly blurted out, "Alexander might know something."

Castiel's blade hand paused. "Alexander?" he echoed, startled. "Is he also here on Earth?"

"No; he is the Master of the Lake of Fire," Lanister told him. "I was there."

Cas froze. He looked at Gabriel. This was unbelievable. A former member of the Upper Echelon, Heaven's most senior and longest-serving Angels, was now the arbiter of the Lake of Fire? Ammit's successor? What was Crowley playing at?

He and Gabriel exchanged another glance, and they popped outside simultaneously.

"Great. Just great. We don't even know where the Lake of Fire is, any more," Gabe grumbled. "Crowley moved it after you guys went there, didn't he?"

Cas was nodding. "Yes," he confirmed. They were both silent for a moment, thinking about how to proceed. Then, Cas nodded again. "We will give him exactly one opportunity to take us there. If he refuses, we will kill him, and then we will see Crowley. I would prefer not to do that, but I don't want to waste any more time here. He has stonewalled us for long enough. Agreed?"

Gabe let out a frustrated breath. "Yeah. Let's just finish it, already. I'm getting sick of looking at the guy."

"Leave it to me," Cas said grimly. Gabe put his hand on Cas's shoulder. "Thanks, Bro. Thanks for having my back. And Liz's," his Archangel friend and Brother added, and Cas frowned briefly. He didn't want to feel sentiment right now, or he wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to deal with the current situation.

He might as well not have worried, though. As soon as Cas and Gabriel popped back to where Lanister was, Liz's killer said, "I'll take you to the Lake of Fire."

Lanister was taking a calculated risk. If he refused to cooperate, they would just kill him, anyway. But if he made it to the Lake of Fire alive, perhaps the tables could be turned.

"Fine," Cas said in a clipped tone. He raised his blade and Lanister cringed, but his former boardmate merely used the knife to cut through Lanister's bonds.

"I'll need you to heal me, so that I will be able to make the trip," Lanister said, and Cas froze. The sheer audacity of the man was astounding. "Certainly," Cas said in a deceptively calm tone. He stepped back. "Brother Gabriel, would you care to do the honours?"

Gabriel looked at Lanister for a moment, and then he moved forward as Lanister rose unsteadily from the chair. "Of course," Gabe said expansively. "I would be only too happy to heal the sniveling coward who killed my fiancee."

He waved his hands over Lanister, who flinched again. But Gabriel did heal the guy, because he trusted Cas, and because he agreed that Xavier and Mark were pieces of garbage, who had to be taken off the landscape. Gabriel could bide his time. Lanister wasn't long for this world, or any other, probably.

Still, after Gabe healed the man, he grabbed him by the shirt front and punched him in the face, several times in quick succession, as hard as he could. "Oops," Gabriel said sarcastically. "Oh, well. All you need are legs, to take us where we need to go." He grabbed Lanister roughly. "Let's go, Lame-ister." The Archangel smirked at Cas. Not one of his better insults, but he didn't really care. This bastard wasn't worth one of his primo lines.

But Cas was holding a hand to his head now. "Hold on," he said, distracted by the call from Gail. "I need to take this. I'll be right back." He popped out of the room.

Gabriel refrained from rolling his eyes. What could possibly be more important than what they were in the middle of, right now? Lanister glanced furtively at Gabriel, but now, Gabe did roll his eyes. "Don't even think about it," he warned the former Angel. "I'm an Archangel, and you're...what are you now, exactly? Oh, yeah. You're the spineless scumbag who killed my fiancee. It's Cas who wants those two other guys so much. Personally, I don't really care. I was in the lobby buying popcorn when Xavier and Mark made their debuts in this little movie franchise we've got going on, here. They mean nothing to me. But you, on the other hand..." He walked closer to Lanister and peered at the man's face, narrowing his eyes. "You, I would gladly take apart, molecule by molecule. If you don't believe me, just try it. Please."

Lanister stood down, like the coward he was. He wished he'd never come here to Earth. Aaron's death had been years ago, and now, Lanister had stirred up a hornet's nest. But who would have ever thought that Gabriel would have reacted like this? None of the long-serving Angels who knew Gabriel would have ever imagined him to be this upset over the loss of one woman. At the moment, the Archangel was acting more like Castiel than himself. The question was: Why?

Cas had gone outside to take the call from Gail, and to tell her that he would come to her after he and Gabriel took care of the business at hand. He didn't want her to have to be subjected to Lanister, or Alexander, for that matter. He and Gabriel were fully capable of taking care of things at the Lake of Fire. But she had sounded so agitated that he had ended up telling her where he was, and Gail had popped over there.

"Where's Gabriel?" she asked her husband curiously, looking around.

"Inside," he said simply. "Now, what's so urgent?"

"Sam isn't Brian's father," she said without preliminary. "Vincent is."

Cas's mouth dropped open in surprise, but his wife wasn't done, yet. "Oh, and guess what?" she continued. "We found out why Alice shot Eric, and why she tried to kill Rob. She's on a mission to wipe out all of Vincent's kids, presumably to make sure he dies, too. You know, it's a shame that Rob and I are on that list, or we might be natural allies. So, needless to say, I've had a pretty eventful afternoon. So, who do you and Gabriel have in that house, and why haven't you told me about it?"

Castiel's head was reeling now, just like Gail's had been, earlier. Vincent was Brian's father, not Sam? Like Gail, Cas wasn't particularly surprised that an evil entity like Vincent would be the sire of the Beast of the Apocalypse. What a relief this news would be for Sam. That was if they decided to tell him, of course. The fact of the matter was that the child still had to die, regardless of who Its father was. Knowing Sam the way Cas did, after the initial shock of the news wore off, Sam would still argue that they should not kill the child. Could not. But, not only COULD they, as Angels of the Lord, they were required to.

That entire situation would bear further discussion, but they had nearly ten years to sort it out, so the subject could simmer on the back burner for now. Of far greater concern at the moment was Alice, and her vigilante mission. Castiel had to admit that a part of him approved of what Eric's adoptive mother had taken it upon herself to accomplish. If he were to be completely honest with himself, Cas had to admit that the idea had a lot of merit. It wasn't as if the topic hadn't come up before. There was a very logical case for doing exactly what Alice seemed to be doing. It was unfortunate that individuals like Eric had to be part of the collateral damage, of course. But when Ricky and all of those others had died in that compound, Castiel had seen for himself how temporarily weakened Vincent had become. If they had been able to band together and continue the assault on him, Vincent might have even been vulnerable enough to destroy, at that moment. But the opportunity had been lost, and now Vincent had fathered another formidable adversary, in Brian.

The calculating part of Castiel's brain went to work, now. They would be formulating a plan to locate the Chosen One, if the youth did not find them first. Once Brian was dead, Vincent would be significantly weakened again. He'd received a disfiguring black mark on his face after Gail had killed JD. JD's demise had obviously been significant to Vincent. Cas had never told Gail this, because he'd thought it would upset her even further, but after JD's death, he had asked Sam to do a little digging on Gail's half-brother. Sam had found out some very interesting but ultimately inconclusive information: at least sixteen separate states, possibly more, had unsolved murders of women on the books, from around the same time as JD had said that he had been driving around the country, searching for family. Hardly incriminating in and of itself, but Sam had dug a little deeper and managed to unearth composite sketches of the man who had been last seen with two different victims in two different states, and the drawings had borne a striking resemblance to the man they'd allowed to stay in their home, and attempted to welcome as a member of the family. Sam and Cas had made a pact not to disclose any of this to Gail, reasoning that she would rest easier that way.

But this train of thought had led Cas to come to the inevitable conclusion: While they were busy taking care of the other threats to their family members and to the status quo, perhaps they could allow Alice to thin out the herd a little bit more, in a manner of speaking. As long as Rob and especially Gail were in no danger, perhaps Castiel should concentrate on eliminating the types of threats that no human could eliminate.

"We'll talk about everything you just told me, I promise," Cas said to his wife now. "But we have a more pressing situation going on, right now. Lanister is in this house, and he has agreed to take us to the Lake of Fire to speak to Alexander about Xavier and Mark's whereabouts."

Now it was Gail's turn to be astonished. "Lanister is in there?" she repeated. "Is THAT what Gabriel called you about?"

"Yes," her husband confirmed, frowning. "But, Gabriel and I can take care of it. You don't need to be subjected to him."

Gail looked at Cas evenly. "While I appreciate your attempts at chivalry, I have one question for you: how's Gabriel supposed to be able to accompany you to the Lake of Fire without his blade?"

Cas froze. He hadn't even thought of that. But Gail was right. If the place was still bound by the same covenants as it had been before, Gabriel would be unable to enter.

He sighed. But, he and Gail would. After all this time, all these years of being together, Cas knew that his wife was an able warrior, now. But old habits died hard, and he still desired to protect her from these types of situations. Hadn't she been through enough? But it seemed that, once again, he had no choice. It would be foolhardy for Cas to go to the Lake of Fire alone.

"Have you got your blade, my love?" he asked Gail.

Gabriel had, predictably enough, been extremely angry when Cas had taken him aside and reminded the Archangel that, without his own blade, he would be unable to access the Lake of Fire. But in a way, it was a blessing in disguise. As before, Gabriel was going to stand by, preparing to bring in reinforcements if his Brother and Sister didn't emerge safe and sound within the allotted time frame.

"After we take care of these losers, I have to find that kid," Gabriel fumed. "I need my own blade back. Once he takes care of his little errand, I'm taking it back. Enough's enough."

Cas said nothing. He actually understood Gabriel's frustration. He couldn't imagine not having his own blade; being relegated to the sidelines like this must be maddening, especially for someone with Gabriel's formidable powers. "I'll help you, in that regard," he told his Brother, and then, with a glance at Gail, Cas amended that to: "WE will."

Gail was nodding. "Of course we will," she agreed.

They moved back to where Lanister was. The men had bound and shackled him again in preparation for transport, and also to make sure that he wouldn't be given the opportunity to try to attack Gail, once she entered the house. When she had, Lanister had scarcely reacted, but Castiel wasn't about to relax his guard.

"You will now give us the coordinates," Cas said to Lanister in a crisp, businesslike tone. "Gabriel will do a reconnaissance to make sure you're not sending us into a trap, and when he gives us the all clear, we will proceed."

But there was no way that Lanister was going to lead them into a trap, even if he could. Now that Castiel's wife was here, Lanister knew that with every moment Lanister spent in close proximity with her, Castiel would grow angrier and angrier, remembering old grudges, and fostering new ones. Never mind that Gail had fired the first salvo, when she had killed Lanister's son. Castiel had a blind spot a mile wide when it came to his diminutive, doe-eyed wife. It was such a shame, really. Lanister had had nothing against Castiel as an individual. In fact, he had often thought that the Senior Seraph had almost limitless potential before the humans had wormed their way into his heart, and under his skin, like parasites will do. But Castiel had turned his back on Heaven in favour of those parasites, hadn't he?

Lanister gave them the coordinates.

Alexander bolted from his chair the instant that Lanister, Castiel and Gail appeared by the Lake. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Really, Alexander?" Cas said dryly. "You honestly have no idea?"

Alexander was distraught. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted his former colleagues to go to Earth. Now look at what they had done. Castiel and that woman were here, looking to make trouble for him. Alexander was quite content here. He actually enjoyed the work, and he was eminently qualified to do it. As a senior Upper Echelon Angel, who was more qualified than he, to judge the souls of the condemned? His talents had been wasted in Hell, in the snake pits. But he'd supposed Crowley had had to separate the wheat from the chaff, and now that the King had recognized who among the Upper Echelon was worth retaining, the decision was out of Alexander's hands. That was what he had told himself, anyway.

But here were these three now, upsetting the status quo. "What do you want?" he said to Castiel.

"Xavier and Mark," Cas said bluntly. "Where are they?"

"I have no idea, Castiel," Alexander replied. He looked at Lanister, frowning. "Did you tell him that I knew where they were? Let me guess: You brought Castiel here under the pretext that I had information to divulge, in an attempt to save your own skin. Isn't that correct?"

Lanister said nothing, but that fact alone was enough for confirmation, as far as Alexander was concerned. He looked at Castiel. "I told them that it was a bad idea to go to Earth, Castiel. They asked me to accompany them, but I refused. I stayed here, instead."

Cas's eyes narrowed. Interesting. Even among cowards, Alexander was a coward. He wished that Gabriel was here to appreciate the irony.

"Well, good for you," Gail said sarcastically. "I'm sure Crowley appreciates your loyalty. But you just admitted that you didn't stop them from escaping, either. Lanister killed my best friend. Gabriel's fiancee. If not for you, she would still be alive. Isn't that right?"

"I had no knowledge of that, Castiel," Alexander replied soberly. "I did not sanction that act."

Gail laughed shortly. "Wow. I can't believe that after all these years, you still won't look at me, or address me by my name. It doesn't matter where guys like you and Lanister and Xavier are, you still think you're superior, don't you? You and that ancient, dried-up, fossilized Upper Echelon board. Talk about 'White Male Privilege'. I guess it would scandalize you to know that we have Asian people and black people on the board now, and half of them are women. In fact, I've chaired many of those meetings, myself! What do you have to say about that?"

She stood there, breathing heavily after her angry tirade. Alexander opened his mouth to speak. Finally, he was going to say something directly to her, Gail thought with anticipation. She didn't even care what it was. Just an acknowledgement that she was an actual person in her own right would be nice.

"There was no point to your coming here, Castiel," Alexander said, turning his head away from Gail. Or not, Gail thought, throwing her arms up in frustration. Had this been other circumstances, Cas might have smiled. She was so cute. But Gail was absolutely right, too. She had helped Cas to grow in leaps and bounds, as far as enlightenment went. But with some individuals, it was a losing battle.

Alexander was oblivious. "I do not know where Xavier and Mark are," he went on. "So, unless you want to fight thousands upon thousands of condemned souls with nothing left to lose, I would suggest that you make your retreat."

Cas let out a frustrated breath. He hated to admit it, but Alexander was right. There was no way that he and Gail could engage in that type of combat here. They would be ridiculously outnumbered. Back when Ammit had been in charge of the Lake, she had ingested so many of the souls that were there at the time that Cas had felt confident enough to make the attempt to defeat her, one-on-one. But in this situation, it would be suicide.

Still, he attempted a bluff, just to see what Alexander would say. "Either that, or I could just call Gabriel, and have him ride into here with an army of Angels," Cas said calmly.

Alexander was eyeing his former Brother warily. If Castiel were able to ride an army into here, in the inner core of the Earth where the Lake of Fire was located, why would he not already have done so? But, then again, did Alexander really want to take that chance? What if Castiel and his wife had come here as an advance team, to reconnoiter the new location and to try to see if they could discern the whereabouts of Xavier and Mark, ahead of the raid? Castiel had a storied reputation for deception and violence, and Alexander knew that that reputation was well-earned. Did he really want to run the risk of this turning into a bloodbath? Once souls were cast into the Lake, they would be gone forever. Himself, included.

"Let us not be hasty, here," Alexander said cautiously. "I honestly do not know where Xavier and Mark are, but I don't wish to have a bloody and protracted battle, either. What will it take for us to leave you in peace?"

"A show of good faith," Cas replied coolly.

Lanister was incredulous. "He doesn't have an army!" he said to Alexander, gesturing angrily. "He's bluffing!"

"Do you really want to put yourself in jeopardy by testing me?" Castiel said to Alexander. "Gabriel and I have issued instructions to the garrisons to leave you alone. Once we lay waste to this place and Crowley finds out that it happened on your watch, you will wish that we had cast you into the Lake."

Alexander understood what Castiel was alluding to, and he was absolutely right. There was only one thing the Keeper of the Lake could think of to do to appease Castiel at this point, and he intended to do it, to save himself. He seized Lanister by the arm, and flung him into the Lake of Fire.

Cas and Gail watched as Lanister screamed in agony. He flailed his arms wildly, trying to stay above the flames. Why did they all do that? Alexander thought idly. Did they really think that it was going to make a difference?

Gail looked on impassively as Lanister screamed a few more times. Then he sank into the Lake, and then he was gone. Good. She wasn't going to waste one ounce of sympathy on the man who had killed Liz for absolutely no reason. Gail only wished that Gabriel had been here to see it. She would have to make sure to describe it to him in loving detail, later on.

Cas took Gail's hand. That would have to do, for now. "Very well, Alexander," he said, appraising the Keeper of the Lake with his best poker stare. "We will stand down, for now. But if I find out that you have lied to me, we will be back."

Gabriel had been pacing nervously back and forth aboveground, sweating out the time period that he and Cas had agreed upon. But the couple appeared before the allotted time was up.

Gabe looked at Cas with a raised eyebrow, but his Brother shook his head. "Alexander claims he doesn't know where they are," Cas said, "and I think he's telling the truth."

Gabriel frowned, but he was nodding. If Cas believed the guy, that was good enough for him. "And Lanister?" the Archangel inquired.

"Barbecued," Gail said bluntly. She and Gabriel looked at each other for a moment, but they couldn't quite bring themselves to smile. Instead, they exchanged nods of acknowledgement. Liz was still gone, but at least her killer had gotten what he deserved.

"I'll be going, now," Gabe said to the two of them. "You guys look like you have some things to talk about."

"We do," Cas agreed, giving Gail's hand a gentle squeeze. "Go ahead, Gabriel. We'll talk to you later."

"Thanks," Gabriel said, and then he vanished.

Gabriel reappeared a moment later in the alcove room, where the ashes of the Angels who had received state funerals were kept. He went to the niche where the gold urn containing Liz's ashes was kept. Bobby had installed a plaque beneath it that read simply: "The Best Is Yet To Come".

Gabe did smile, now. Anyone who didn't know them might have found it strange, but clearly, Bobby had been paying attention. When they had been talking about their upcoming wedding, Liz had been making the rounds, polling their friends and family for ideas on what song she and Gabe should dance to, for their first dance. She had received some smartass answers, of course. Sam had suggested, tongue firmly in cheek, that it should be "Lucky Man", while Frank had suggested an obscure little number called "The Where-Has-My-Hubby-Gone Blues". Karen had said that if she and Ethan had it to do over again, she would have chosen "Truly, Madly, Deeply", and then a few more serious love ballads had been bandied about, and then a few more jokes. Finally, Bobby had cleared his throat and said, "You're all wrong. It should be 'The Best Is Yet To Come'." Everybody had been silent for a moment, and then Liz had smiled. "I like that," she'd said, and the matter had been settled.

Gabriel kissed his fingertips and touched the plaque lightly. "I hope that's the case," he said softly. "I'll miss you, and I'll hold you in my heart every day of my existence. And, who knows? Maybe, if Father is kind, we'll see each other again. I love you, Liz."

Then he stood there for another minute, but there was really no point in hanging around. Liz wasn't here. There was no one here; just a bunch of cold metal urns, containing ashes and bone matter. He glanced at the niches containing Efram's and Riley's remains, and at Emma's, and other Angels', who Gabriel had known over the centuries. Boy, did he feel ancient. The young ones had no idea of the stories that were behind the urns in this room. Each and every death, a travesty. Like Jody, and Tommy, and Eric. He gave himself a moment then, to take it all in. The pain and sorrow. The grief, and the loss. What was it all for? What was the Grand Plan? He wasn't sure which notion was scarier: the idea that there was a much larger plan in place, or the thought that there wasn't.

Gabriel spared one last glance at Liz's urn, and then he vanished from the room.

Cas took Gail to their house on Earth, so that they could talk in more detail about the revelations she had received today. But he could see that she was sad now, and he understood why. Even though Lanister had met with a fate that was most deserving, Liz was still gone, wasn't she? Vengeance had its own merits, but the satisfaction it brought was hollow and fleeting.

In an effort to cheer his wife, Cas looked at her and said, "'Ancient'? 'Dried-up'? 'Fossilized'? Do you think it's time for me to get some plastic surgery done?"

Gail looked at him blankly for a moment, and then she started to smile. Cas was quoting the adjectives she'd used to Alexander to describe the former Upper Echelon board members, whose numbers had of course included her husband, back then.

"I didn't mean YOU, Cas," she said, still smiling. Blessing him for what he was doing.

"No?" he said airily. He leaned towards the mirror, over the dresser. "Chronologically speaking, I'm the oldest one." He peered at his reflection. "Do you see a few grey hairs, here?"

Gail laughed. He was being too cute. She put her arms around his waist. "I take it back," she said. "You don't look a day older than...what? Seven thousand years? Eight? More?"

Cas turned away from the mirror, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is that your idea of an apology?" he asked her.

"No. This is," Gail replied. She stretched up to kiss him on the mouth.

"Hmph," Cas said, still playing. "I think that apology leaves a little something to be desired."

Gail regarded him for a moment. "All right, then," she said reasonably. "Maybe you're right. How's this?" She moved closer to him, taking his hands in hers. Then she put them on her waist underneath her top, and she kissed him again, touching his lips with her tongue.

Cas's mouth twitched. "That will do, for a first draft," he said. "Now, let's see if we can work on it some more."