Chapter 2 - Dirty Little Secrets
Crowley stood from his chair. "So, where were we?" he said to his mother.
Rowena stared at him. Unbelievable. Did he honestly have no recollection of what had just happened here? Apparently not, because he was acting as if they were picking up exactly where they'd left off, and he made no mention of Raguel. Had that been what that little hand wave of Raguel's had been all about?
The King's mother had nothing to say at the moment. Her head was still reeling from everything she had just experienced. And Fergus had no idea. Nor did Gail. There had to be a way for Rowena to use this information to her advantage. What about Vincent? Where was he, and what was he doing? She had no doubt that he was still alive; cockroaches like him tended to outlast just about everything. Rowena was making a mental checklist now of every man who had ever wronged her, or screwed her around. Fergus was still on it, but funnily enough, his name had slid down the list a few notches now. And as far as Gail went, Rowena had no idea how to feel about her at the moment. Her daughter was an Original Angel, and the First Lady of Heaven. Rowena didn't know what to do with that. Should she feel proud, or ashamed? Did they make an ambiguous Hallmark card for that type of situation? Congratulations On Your Exalted Status, We Are Deeply Ashamed, Love, Mother.
Crowley was looking closely at his mother's face. She had a strange expression, one he couldn't quite interpret. He had actually just showed up here after court had adjourned for the day to make sure that Rowena was still here. She had a way of wriggling out of things. He still had no idea how she'd gotten out of the Netherworld. To his knowledge, no one had ever done that before. Well, not to stay, anyway.
"Make yourself comfortable, Mother," he said to her. "I'll be back in the morning, after I fulfill my end of a bargain. Sleep tight. Don't let the vermin bite." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.
Rowena sat there as calmly as she could. She was almost glad of the solitude, as long as he had been joking about the vermin. She had no doubt that he would be coming back in the morning, though. Whatever else he might be, the King was a man of his word. But Rowena could last until then. She had a lot to think about.
Did this newfound knowledge mean that Rowena had to look at things from another perspective now? How would her life have been different if she had been able to keep both babies? Or, would it have been different at all? Would Fergus and Priscilla have chosen the same paths they had ended up travelling down, and would they be the same individuals they were now, at completely opposite ends of the spectrum?
She thought back to when her son had kidnapped Gail and brought her to his lair on Earth. Fergus had been grooming Gail to be his Queen, then. Yikes. Rowena wasn't sure if she should be amused by the thought, or nauseated. She had sat there at the dinner table with the two of them, knowing that her son was having lustful thoughts about Gail. His own sister. Not that he had known, of course. Still, it was almost too much to contemplate.
Rowena thought about her daughter now. Gail certainly had her mother's spirit, and her diminutive size hadn't stopped her from being a formidable foe, so they certainly had that in common. And Gail had performed the most complex of spells to bring Dean Winchester back from the dead, using her mother's own spell book to do it. Rowena smiled. Now she had an unfamiliar feeling in her chest, as her heart swelled with pride at her daughter's accomplishment.
But as quickly as her heart was lifted, it sank again. At the end of the day, what did it really matter? Even if Gail were to find out about their true relationship, what would happen then? Warm and fuzzy family get-togethers? What would Christmas be like? Maybe they could have a blended celebration. Save the morning for pagan rituals and orgies, and in the evening, share a turkey with Frank, and the Winchesters. Then, at the end of the meal, Castiel could stab Crowley with the carving knife and throw Rowena into the fireplace, to roast with the chestnuts. What a heartwarming family Christmas special that would make.
Rowena's head nodded once, then twice, and then she started to doze.
Crowley was already waiting in the hallway outside the courtroom in the morning when Cas and Gail and Sam got there. "Let's wrap this up," he said to Cas. "Once we get Dean released, you can come back with me. We'll get Mummy Dearest to tell us where to find Raguel, and then you'll kill her for me, as agreed."
"What do you mean, 'get Dean released'?" Sam asked him, confused. "He was convicted yesterday."
"You know, for someone who hangs around Angels as much as you do, you don't have very much faith, do you, Moose?" Crowley said. He looked at Cas again. "Maybe you should have a chat with him about that, sometime."
"I'm not even going to bother to ask you how you think you're going to help us," Gail said wearily. "Instead, I'll just ask you this: Why?"
"I told you, sweetheart. Quid pro quo," Crowley insisted. "As I believe we've already covered, I can't kill my mother, because of that whole revival spell thingumybob. Your husband has agreed to take care of that little matter for me, in exchange for my assistance here today. Besides, I suppose I kind of owe Castiel for that whole not-waging-the-Holy-War thing. And it benefits us both to find and dispose of Raguel. Win-win. Or, is it win-win-win? Oh, well. Doesn't matter, as long as Raguel and Mother lose."
Gail nodded. OK, well, at least that part was situation normal. Crowley wanted something. That was why he was here, offering to help Dean. But, how was he going to do that? Lie on the stand? No, wait. The case was closed, and the verdict had already been read. What was Crowley's plan? Was he going to kill the judge and jury? No, Cas would never allow that. She looked sharply at her husband, and then she shook her head. No. She had to be able to trust Cas. If she couldn't, what did that say about their marriage?
They all walked into the courtroom together. Dean was already sitting there at the defense table, where he and Nick had been talking quietly.
Gail looked to the side of the room, and she was surprised to see the jury there. They had announced their verdict yesterday, and had been dismissed. So what were they doing back here now? She looked at Sam, and he gave her a half-shrug. He'd been wondering that, too.
"What's going on?" Sam asked Nick as the quartet sat down in their seats behind the defense table.
"I don't know," Nick said in a subdued tone. "They came in just a minute before you did. I'm hoping this means there might be an issue with the verdict. We'll have to wait and see."
Judge Pike rapped his gavel sharply. "Settle down, people. I'd like to bring this whole thing to a close, as soon as possible. Will counsel please rise?"
Nick and the DA stood, and the judge regarded them, frowning. "I'm well aware that people call me the 'Hanging Judge', and I have no problem with that," Pike said. "I believe that our justice system is far too lenient on criminals. I think that all killers should automatically receive the death penalty."
Gail gasped loudly, but the Judge was still talking: "Having said that, I feel compelled to say that I have never, in all my years on the bench, seen such a miserable excuse for a case in all my life. Mr. Armstrong, the so-called 'evidence' you presented here was so wafer-thin it was practically see-through. You wasted this Court's time, and you wasted the jury's time."
The DA stood there, open-mouthed. When he'd first talked to the Judge, the man had encouraged him to prosecute. Now, he was turning the whole thing around. What the hell was going on? But Pike had that sentence-you-to-contempt glare going on right now, so he'd better keep his mouth shut.
Then Judge Pike looked at the jury. "I'm hereby overturning your verdict. But I wanted to talk to all of you, before you leave this courtroom here today. Perhaps you're all taking your cue from us, as your civic leaders. Everybody is sick and tired of rapists and murderers walking among us, committing their crimes with seeming impunity. So am I, I can assure you. But the answer to that is not a knee-jerk reaction, either."
He looked at the defense table. "Will the Defendant please rise?"
As Dean got to his feet, Judge Pike looked to where Cas and Crowley were sitting again, just for an instant. Gail saw Crowley give the Judge a slight nod.
"You are free to go, Mr. Winchester," Judge Pike said. "I will not comment further except to advise you that if you ever come in front of this Court again, for any reason, I will not hesitate to bury you, both literally and figuratively. But for now, you are presumed innocent. Good day." He rapped his gavel once more, then rose and left the room.
Everyone started to talk at once. The DA looked at Nick, astonished. "What the hell did you do?" Mr. Armstrong said. "Blackmail him, or something?"
Nick raised an eyebrow. "I know you're not accusing a fellow member of the Bar of influencing a judge in a capital case in open court," he said dryly. Then he leaned towards Dean, rolling his eyes in a comic fashion.
Dean put out his hand for a shake. "Thanks a lot, Nick," he said. "Thanks a million."
"I didn't really do much, but you're welcome, anyway," Nick said good-naturedly, shaking Dean's hand. He lowered his voice. "I didn't blackmail the judge, of course, but something obviously happened that changed his mind."
As Sam was pumping Nick's hand, Gail was looking at Crowley. The instant the Judge had left the room, he had risen from his chair and done the same. But now he was back, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.
"What did you do?" Gail asked the King.
"I'll tell you what," he said casually. "Invite me back to the bat cave for a drink, and I'll tell you."
"It's morning," Cas pointed out, rather stiffly.
"I don't think that matters to Jean Valjean over there at the moment, do you?" Crowley quipped, nodding his head towards Dean.
"Well, I'll leave you to celebrate with your friends," Nick said.
"Thanks again, Nick," Sam said to his old college friend. "How much do we owe you?"
"This one's on me," Nick replied. "Buy me a beer sometime, when you feel like telling me what really happened." He turned and left the room, twirling his cane as he went.
Crowley looked at Dean. "Fancy a drink?"
They were back in the bunker now, and everyone but Cas had a drink in their hand. Even Gail had accepted the glass of whiskey that Dean had handed her. Cas had waved his hand absently and added ginger ale to her glass, and she smiled at him.
Cas was impatient to get his end of the bargain over and done with, but he knew his brother very well. Crowley was almost preening now, eager to accept their gratitude.
"OK, I'll be the one to say it," Sam said, clinking glasses with Dean. He didn't usually drink hard liquor in the morning, of course, but this was a special occasion. Dean was finally back home. Sam looked at Crowley. "What did you do back there?"
Crowley took a sip of his drink. "It just so happens that a certain Judge and I might have a passing acquaintance," he said, smirking.
"THAT'S why he was looking at you!" Gail exclaimed. "I was wondering about that."
Crowley nodded. "Right you are, sweetheart. Judge Thaddeus Pike. By day, he is a pillar of the community. But by night, as the expression goes...not so much." He took another sip of his drink, pausing for dramatic effect. "In just a few short months, a Supreme Court Justice will suddenly drop dead, leaving a vacancy, and a golden opportunity for Judge Pike to become the youngest sitting Judge ever on the Supreme Court. The Governor will recommend the good Judge to the President himself, who will then fast-track his appointment to the highest Court in the land."
They all nodded. A deal. Not particularly surprising. But: "What's he do at night?" Dean wanted to know.
"That's the interesting part," Crowley replied. "As it turns out, our Judge Pike is a pedophile, a creep of the worst order. But, to maintain his upstanding reputation, he simply can't afford to risk downloading certain select websites, or go cruising in certain areas. He has to stay deep, deep under the radar. He made a deal with one of my lieutenants a short while back, to put his career on the fast track. We would have been getting him anyway, of course, but he didn't want to wait. He wanted to reach the top of his profession immediately. Standard 10-year deal. It was a win-win for us."
"What do you mean, a 'win-win'?" Dean asked angrily. "The guy messes around with kids!"
Crowley shrugged. "Not my issue. His Honour made a deal with a lieutenant of Hell. Perhaps you've forgotten what sorts of individuals reside there. Bottom line is, we've got the soul, and a Supreme Court Justice is way more valuable than a Circuit Court Judge. As Rudy said, a win-win. You remember him, don't you, Castiel? One of my better assistants. Recently deceased, of course. It's so hard to keep good staff these days."
Gail slammed her glass down on the table. "You can quit needling my husband, and you can quit playing your stupid, cutesy games. They already know," she said tartly.
Crowley's eyebrows rose, but he let the subject alone for the moment. "Anyway, once my assistant met his unfortunate demise, I was forced to close the deal myself. So, once the Magistrate saw me in the courtroom yesterday, he sought to avoid my testimony by sending the case straight to the jury. I guess he was afraid of what I might have to say, under oath." Crowley smirked again. "So I paid a quick visit to his house last night and told him that if he did not overturn the verdict, I might just have to have a little chat with his wife, and then with the Governor, about a certain hobby of his. Then this morning, I popped into his chambers to make sure that Dean's record was expunged from the computer. The video that Mother presented as evidence has also mysteriously been destroyed."
Wow. They all looked at each other, amazed and appalled. What did they say now? What were they supposed to do?
"Uhhh...thanks, I guess," Dean said half-heartedly.
"Oh, please. You're overwhelming me with your enthusiasm," the King said sarcastically.
"Come on, Crowley, what did you expect?" Sam said irritably.
"Oh, I don't know, how about a little bloody gratitude?!" Crowley exclaimed. He looked at Gail. "What about you, sweetheart? Will you bite the bullet and take one for Team Free Will, then? You're usually good for a 'thank you' every once in a while."
"All right. I WILL say thank you," she said, giving him a head nod. "But you can understand how we feel too, right? Are we just supposed to look the other way when it comes to that Judge? I don't think we can do that, Crowley."
"We're not going to do that," Cas said, and suddenly, he disappeared.
Crowley poured himself another drink. "There you go," he said pleasantly. "Problem solved."
Gail rushed over to where the King of Hell stood, grabbing his arm. "Listen to me, and listen to me good," she said, tight-lipped. "Cas is God, not your private hit man. He'll go with you to find Raguel and take care of Rowena because those things benefit us, too. But that's it. Are we understood?"
"You're wrinkling my suit," he said coolly, but she dug her fingers further into his arm, hoping she was bruising his vessel. "I asked you if we were understood," she said icily.
"Yes," Crowley said in a clipped tone, and his eyes glowed red for a moment as she removed her hand.
"That's it, Chuckles. Happy Hour is over," Dean said to the King.
Crowley glared at the trio. "One day, Castiel will no longer be God," he said quietly. "Enjoy the protection, while you have it."
"Did you just threaten us in our own home?" Sam said incredulously.
"I'll leave that to you to decide," the King retorted. He drained his drink, putting the empty glass on the table. "Have Castiel call me on our frequency when he finishes his little errand," he said to Gail. "I'll give him the address then." He looked at Dean. "You're welcome." Then he walked over to the stairs. "You really need to get an elevator in here, Boys," was his parting shot as he climbed the stairs and exited the bunker.
Cas popped into Judge Pike's chambers. The man was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. Cas put his hand on the Judge's head from behind, and began to search his mind. In less than a minute, he saw that Crowley had been telling the truth. Judge Pike was a human abomination, a horrible predator who had done unspeakable things to helpless children.
God reached into his blazer, took out his blade, and cut the Judge's throat with such ferocity that the man was almost decapitated. And then, just for good measure, Cas stabbed him again, and then again. Then he took Pike's hand and wrote his confession on the desk in blood, and then Cas winked himself away.
"Come on, Liz. Just one date. We don't even have to call it that, if you don't want to," Gabriel cajoled. "We can just say it's two friends getting together for a social occasion, possibly culminating in a few hours of white-hot sex. What could possibly be wrong with that?"
She smiled, shaking her head slowly. "Don't you ever give up?"
Gabe shrugged. "Hey, I'm an eternal being, who enjoys a challenge. Come on, Liz. I really like you."
"I'm married," she reminded him.
"Well, technically, you're not," he remarked. "It's 'till death do us part', isn't it?"
Liz regarded him evenly. She supposed he was right, in a way. Besides, it wasn't as if her marriage had been a good one. Gerald had been a selfish man, a male chauvinist pig who'd slept around on Liz all throughout their marriage. When she'd finally found out what he had been doing behind her back, he had thrown himself on her mercy, claiming that he was a sex addict. She'd done a little research and discovered that, apparently, that was a real thing. So, as saintly as she was, she had told Gerald that if he agreed to get counselling, she would stay with him. But then she had received her diagnosis, and soon after, it had become a moot point. She wondered what he was doing now. Hopefully, he had at least mourned her for a while. But Liz highly doubted that Gerald would be abstaining, so why should she?
Gabriel saw something in Liz's expression, so he said, "Say if you've died, and your spouse remarries. Are they cheating on you?"
"No, of course not," Liz replied automatically.
"Well then, shouldn't it be OK the other way around?" he argued persuasively.
Liz thought about that for a moment. "Okay, I get what you're saying," she mused, "but: what happens when the spouse dies, too?"
Gabriel smirked. "A really good time?" he quipped.
Liz giggled. Gabe could always make her laugh. But then her smile faded. "That's all right; I doubt that'll even be an issue in my case," she said sadly. "I'm pretty sure Gerald will be joining Crowley's team when he dies."
"What's going on, Liz?" Gabe said softly. "I can see it in your eyes, every time you talk about your husband. You can tell me. I know I make a lot of jokes, but I won't about this. I promise."
Liz eyed him for a moment, and then she sighed. She and Gabe had been friends for a while now and even though he was a rascal sometimes, she knew that he really cared about her. And she liked Gabriel, too. There was a vulnerable, childlike quality about him beneath all the brashness. So she told him about Gerald, and how things had really been between her and her husband.
Gabriel listened quietly, without comment. When Liz finished her story, he reached out and took one of her hands in both of his. "I could go down there and go all Archangel on his ass, if you want," Gabe said. Liz laughed. Then Gabriel's expression turned serious. "I'm sorry you were married to such an asshat," he said to her.
"Aren't you going to ask me WHY I married him?" Liz asked him. "Or why I stayed with him? That's what everybody always used to ask me."
"You married him because you loved him, and you stayed with him because you trusted him to do right by you," Gabriel said in a quiet voice.
Liz gave him a dubious look for a moment, but then she saw that he was being completely sincere. "Yes. That's exactly right," she said.
"You know, I talk a big game, but it turns out that I might know a little bit more about the subject than I let on," Gabriel told her. "And since you were good enough to tell me your story, I'll tell you mine."
When he was finished, Liz just sat there, speechless. Then she leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel."
"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Gabe said with a wry smile. He was trying not to tear up now, but it was hard. Liz's sweet compassion was almost more than he could stand.
Liz knew that, of course. She knew Gabriel pretty well, and after hearing his heartbreaking story, she felt much closer to him now. And it had been good for Liz to unburden herself like that, too. But she wanted to let Gabriel off the hook now, so she smiled and said, "Hey! Stop talking about my breasts!"
Gabe did a double-take, and then he returned her smile. He snapped his fingers, shrugging. "Darn! You caught me!" he said, grinning.
"Pick me up after work," Liz said, and then she winked herself away, as Gabriel continued to smile.
Becky sat at her desk in Heaven, bored out of her skull. She had tried to get into Cas's office to see him, but Laurel had been sitting at the reception desk, taking messages for him. She'd told Becky that, since Cas and Gail had been attending Dean's trial on Earth every day, Laurel had taken it upon herself to come here whenever she had some free time, to take messages for Cas. Becky had asked Laurel to add her to the list of people who wanted to talk to him.
Becky was frustrated. Truthfully, she'd been frustrated for quite a while now, ever since she'd asked Cas at his party if he would let her go back down to Earth to stay. If he had only said yes right away, she could have been there for Sam, the whole time Dean had been in jail. All that time, wasted.
And now Becky was worried, too. Because Laurel had let it slip that Gail had moved out of the suite that she and Cas shared here in Heaven, and down to their house on Earth. But Gail was living there alone. Laurel had claimed that it was just because there was so much going on Earth at the moment. But if that was the case, Becky had asked Laurel, why wouldn't Cas be there, too? Laurel had been on the verge of speculating whether that particular arrangement had anything to do with the apparent fact that Patricia had nullified Cas and Gail's marriage, but she'd stopped herself at the last minute. Laurel was aware that Becky had been included in their circle at times, but now that Laurel and Chuck were romantically involved, Laurel knew a little bit more about young Becky, and not an awful lot of it was positive, in her opinion. So she had kept quiet.
But Becky's imagination supplied the rest. She could picture Cas being busy doing God stuff here in Heaven, and Gail, down there on Earth, hanging around the bunker with Sam. Cas had better keep an eye on those two, Becky fretted. Better still, he could let Becky go to Earth, so she could keep an eye on them herself.
It never once occurred to Becky to ask Laurel how Dean's trial was going.
Eric sat back on his couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. He opened the envelope, taking the wad of cash out. He didn't even bother counting it any more. He had more than enough to live the way he wanted.
It was too bad you couldn't make money like this legally, he thought. A part of him felt guilty about what he was doing, though. His foster parents had raised him to obey the law. But once the teenager had discovered that he had the ability to teleport from location to location, he had started to stretch the boundaries at home. He'd slipped out past curfew more than a few times, and when his mom had caught him red-handed one night, he'd had to tell her what he'd been doing. And it was strange, too. She hadn't even seemed freaked out that he had the ability to just disappear from his room and suddenly appear somewhere else. All she'd said to him about it was that rules were rules, and she expected him to follow the house's rules as long as he lived under her roof. So then they'd had an argument that had lasted half the night, and after a couple of hours' sleep, Eric had thrown some things into a duffel bag and left the house.
He'd stayed at a buddy's place for a couple of days, and then slept in the park for a couple more. And just when Eric was about to give in and go home, that was when he had met Nuke. That wasn't the guy's real name, of course. Nobody knew what his real name was; maybe not even Nuke himself. They'd met in the park and started talking. Nuke had noticed that Eric was living rough, and he'd told his new friend that there was money to be made if he didn't mind doing something slightly shady. Eric had looked at him suspiciously, but when Nuke had laughed and said that he was talking about selling marijuana, Eric had told him that he was in. Technically, it was against the law, but a lot of people smoked pot. Even his foster parents had smoked it, way back in the olden days.
Because Eric had his special talent, he was able to move more product, and soon, Nuke's boss arranged to meet the young man. One thing had led to another, and now Eric was moving harder drugs and mystery packages for Mr. Rycroft. In order to be able to sleep at night, Eric distracted himself from wondering what was in those packages by taking the boatloads of money Mr. Rycroft was paying him and buying crap for his apartment. But sometimes, Eric wondered where his young life was going. Was this all there was to life? He'd used the computer at the library to send an e-mail to his mom to tell her that he was OK, but he knew that she would be dead-set against how he was living and what he was doing.
He often wondered who his real parents were, and if he had any other family out there. His mom had told him that she and his dad had gotten him from a lady who ran an adoption agency in Denver, Colorado, but that was all his mom had told him. Maybe he should go home and see her. But if he did, Eric wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get. His mom had always been pretty strict.
He stuffed the money in his pocket, and headed for the mall.
Oliver was miserable. With every day that went by, he was giving up hope of ever being able to move on from his house. No; Quinn's house, he amended to himself. Maybe God was punishing him for having been an Atheist all those years. But even though Oliver believed now, he was still being punished. He knew why, of course. Because he had lied to them all.
Oliver remembered everything. He'd never forgotten. He'd just said that he had, because he was so ashamed of himself. Vincent had never put an amnesia spell on his brother. Oliver had just told them that, because now that they knew about the horrible secrets his journal contained, he came off looking pretty bad. He'd known that Vincent had killed their parents and driven their brother Andy crazy, but Oliver had said nothing. He'd known that Vincent and Cathy were selling babies, and that Vincent was a voodoo Priest who used babies' blood and Lord only knew what else in his rituals, but Oliver had done nothing. He'd redacted his journal, all right. He'd redacted it just in case it was going to be used as evidence of his complicity.
He'd also known that Gail was his niece when Sam had brought her to the house a number of years ago. As soon as he'd shaken her hand, he'd known that she was Vincent's daughter. And he'd seen something in her eyes too, a fleeting look that suggested to him that a part of her had known about their familial relationship, as well.
Unbeknownst to Oliver, that part of Gail's mind had known that there was something about him as soon as she had met him, too. Something "off" about him, for lack of a better term. An unpleasant association, of some sort. So when she and Cas were labouring under their shared Demon delusion, Gail's imagination had placed Oliver in charge of the supposed seances with Rowena, simply because he was the only medium she had ever met. But her mind also associated him with suspicion and enmity, so that was why, even in her fantasy, the two of them had shared a strong dislike for one another.
Oliver had moved to Canada not because of any fear of the King of Hell, Cas, or Rowena, none of whom he had ever met, but in an effort to get away from his brother and the bad memories associated with this house. So, naturally, God was now punishing him by keeping him chained to this same house. When he had seen Gail and Cas at the fair in Vancouver, he had never actually met Cas before. Cas had imagined meeting Oliver there when he'd gone with his TV friends and undergone his atonements for his perceived transgressions against Gail and his friends. But there had never been any atonements, just mishaps that were sometimes merely a part of life. So that first so-called meeting had been a complete figment of Cas's imagination, just his mind telling him that he was scum. Confirming to him how he had felt about himself at the time. The time he and Gail actually had met Oliver at the fair, Oliver had been talking about Evil, but the evil entity he'd been talking about was his brother Vincent. Then at that moment, he'd heard Vincent's voice in his head, telling him to shoot himself with the gun he'd been carrying around for protection. So Oliver had shot himself as Vincent had commanded, but Cas had healed Oliver, prompting Vincent's brother's newfound belief in God. He'd had pentagram bullets in the gun because he'd been hoping for the opportunity to use them on Vincent one day. Sam had puzzled over why that gun had had pentagram bullets in it, but he had never been able to solve that mystery.
When Gail and the Winchesters had come here to see Oliver recently, he'd been hoping that her having read the journal would be enough to enable him to move on. But of course, it wasn't that easy. Then Vincent had come, pushing Oliver aside and doing his horrible things to Gail and her friends. Oliver had still been there to bear witness, but he'd been powerless to stop it. Then had come the most thrilling, most frightening moment of all, when God himself had come to defend Gail and her friends against Vincent. Oliver had silently cheered, and he'd been astonished and proud to discover that it was his niece's husband who was now God. The wrath of the Almighty was going to come down on Vincent now, for everything he had done.
But to Oliver's dismay, even God had been unable to kill Vincent, although he had hurt Oliver's brother a great deal. Still, the Lord had intimidated Vincent into leaving, so Oliver supposed that was something, anyway. He'd never seen anyone, or anything, intimidate Vincent before.
Then, when Oliver had finally been able to come back, they had been angry with him. And he couldn't blame them, in a way. But if God, the Almighty God, couldn't kill Vincent, what was an insignificant little ghost like Oliver supposed to do about him?
Vincent had known that Cathy would be dead by now, of course. He'd decided that she had become a liability. A security risk. Now that Gail's people knew where Cathy was, and suspected that there was a connection, it was only a matter of time. So he'd withheld her drink and not bothered to return her calls, and now he was seeing the evidence of her demise. She had been reduced to ashes, gristle and bones.
Vincent looked down at Cathy's desk chair, where her remains were. "This could be a PSA for workaholics," he quipped, smiling at his own joke.
Oh, well. No big loss. If he decided to make any more babies and wanted them unloaded, he could make other arrangements. But right now, he had something else in mind.
He glanced at the back room for a moment, but then, he shrugged. He still had the copies he'd made previously of the confidential files. The kids who interested him the most. Gail, Rob, Eric, Lucas, etc., etc. Now the question was, what was he gonna do with them?
He'd had no luck finding the Books. None. Vincent wasn't used to failure, and it was pissing him off. He'd wanted the damn Book of the Dead before he called his kids to him. Now, he was undecided: chicken, or egg? Should be keep looking for the Books, or should he set up the testing facility now, and get started with the kids first? Eeny, meeny, chili beanie...
"'Bye, Cathy," he said to the dust on the chair. "For all the times you did it for me, allow me to return the favour." He leaned down, puckered his lips, and then blew on her ashes until they dissipated. Then he snapped his fingers and vanished.
Cas had gone to wherever Crowley was holding Rowena now, and Gail had stayed behind. Cas had told her that he didn't want her anywhere in the vicinity when he and Crowley confronted Raguel, and he'd been very adamant about it. She was fine with that. She was still mad at Crowley anyway, and she felt no urge to see Rowena again. And as curious as she was about Raguel, he obviously scared Cas more than a little, so he was clearly no one to mess around with. But Cas had assured his wife that he and Crowley as a combined force should be able to take Raguel down. He would call her as soon as he could. Then he had given her a hug and a kiss, said goodbye to Sam and Dean, and then winked out.
Sam and Dean had continued to drink, and Gail noticed with some amusement that Sam was getting drunk now. Her friend was unused to day-drinking, and it was showing. His face was flushed, and his hair was hanging down over his forehead.
"To Dean, being home," Sam toasted. Gail was done drinking, but Dean toasted with his brother. But then, Dean put his glass down. "Maybe we'd better have a little breakfast, Sammy," he said.
"Oh, and two guesses who'll be cooking that," Sam said dryly.
Dean smirked. His little brother was just too easy. He winked at Gail.
"Well, you can't expect ME to do it," Dean said. "I just got sprung from the Big House. Things were rough there, you know. Lots of real bad hombres in there, just looking to take you down."
"The last time I came to visit you there, one of the guard's wives was bringing you home-baked cookies," Gail pointed out.
"Nobody likes a snitch, Gail," Dean admonished her.
She grinned. "I'd better watch my back, then, in case you shank me. I've watched prison movies, you know."
"I'm surprised he didn't have a poster of Baby on the wall by his bed," Sam wisecracked.
"Baby?! What about Nicole?" Gail teased.
The brothers lapsed into silence. Gail looked from one man to another, and then back again. "OK, what's going on, you guys? Anytime I mention either one of your girlfriends, you guys look at each other, and then you clam up."
"We'll show you ours if you show us yours," Sam retorted.
"Mind your manners; I'm a married woman," she quipped.
"Are you?" Sam asked her pointedly. "Because, from what Bobby tells us, you AREN'T. Why didn't you guys tell us what was going on?"
"We've all had so much going on, we just never got around to it," Gail told them with a half-shrug. "It's not that big of a deal. We just have to go through some sort of ancient Enochian whatever, and then we're going to hit the reset button. We're fine, you guys. I'm just living in our house here on Earth for convenience right now, that's all. But, Cas has to stay in Heaven."
"You're separated?!" Dean exclaimed. "When were you gonna tell us about THAT?"
"Hey, when did this conversation become about me and Cas? she said, annoyed. "I was talking about you guys, and your girlfriends. What's going on, there? Every time I bring up the subject, I get stonewalled. Come on, give."
Sam glanced at Dean. "We agreed to stay off the subject as much as possible," he said uncomfortably.
Dean set his drink down on the table. "His girlfriend thinks my girlfriend's a monster," he said bluntly.
"That's not what she said, Dean," Sam insisted.
"No?" he retorted. "So, I guess a woman ripping a guy's heart out of his chest and eating it is just some kind of weird foreplay where Quinn comes from?"
"What?!" Gail exclaimed. Then the brothers told her about Quinn's visions, and Gail sat back in her chair. Huh. She had no idea what to make of that. But it worried her a little. How good WAS Quinn, actually? So that was the reason for the tension between the brothers whenever girlfriends were discussed. It was understandable, really.
"Quinn also thinks there's something going on between you and me," Sam blurted out. He finished his drink and reached for the bottle again. Dean looked at his brother sharply.
Gail laughed. "Okay, now she's just delusional." As Sam's face fell, she put her hand on his arm. "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. But you've got to admit, that's pretty out there. I mean, come on."
"You don't have to protest THAT strongly," he said, his lips twitching. Gail laughed again. She remembered that time, when they were all talking to Stu the numerologist, and Sam was put on the spot. If he'd protested that he had no interest in Gail that way too vociferously, she got mad at him. But then, if Sam went the other way and said he found Gail attractive, Cas got mad. It was a lose-lose proposition.
"You got me, there," Gail told Sam. "I'll tell you what. Why don't I make you guys breakfast? I'm just hanging around waiting for Cas, anyway."
"Sounds good," Sam said. He got up from his chair intending to go to the kitchen, but he stumbled. Gail rushed forward to help him right himself, but he was so off-balance that the two of them ended up going down to the floor in a heap.
"Oof," Gail said, wincing. "Now I know why Crowley calls you 'Moose'," she said to Sam, pushing at him. "I'd better cook you a low-cal breakfast."
He didn't respond. She looked at his face, suspicious. His eyes were closed. No way. Then Sam emitted a loud, snorking noise.
"Dean! Help! He's passed out," Gail exclaimed. She was grunting with the effort of trying to push him off of her.
"I'll be right there; I'm just getting my cell phone," Dean said gleefully. He snapped a picture. "I'll have to send this to Frank and get him to put a funny caption on it. Better still, I think I'll blackmail you with it. How much is it worth to you to make sure the Almighty doesn't see this?"
Gail winked out from underneath Sam and appeared suddenly beside Dean, punching him on the arm. "Ow!" he exclaimed.
"Serves you right," she retorted. "Here, gimme that phone."
Dean shoved it in his back pocket. "Just try it," he gloated. "You've already been caught with Sleeping Beauty over there. Do you really want Cas to see you reaching for my butt?"
Gail rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. Make your own breakfast." But then, her expression softened. "I'm so glad you're home, Dean. Say goodbye to Sleeping Beauty for me."
She gave Dean a quick kiss on the cheek and then winked herself out of the bunker.
Seconds later, Gail reappeared on the steps leading up to the porch of Quinn's house. Hopefully, Cas was too busy getting rid of Rowena and Raguel to be watching her now. He would probably be mad at her for coming here alone. Look at what had happened the last time. But she felt bad for Sam. What Quinn had said about Nicole was bad enough, but Gail couldn't let what she had said about her and Sam stand. Where the hell would Sam's girlfriend get an idea like that from?
"Hi, Gail, how are you?" Quinn said when she answered the door. She looked behind the Angel. "Where's Cas? Where are the guys? What happened with Dean?" She opened the door wider to let Gail in the house. "Come through to the kitchen, if you want," Quinn continued. "I was just finishing breakfast. Do you want a cup of - " She stopped herself, laughing shortly. "Sorry, I keep forgetting."
"That's OK," Gail said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "To answer your questions, I'll take the big one first: Dean's out of jail. It's a long story, but the bottom line is, he's been acquitted. He and Sam were celebrating this morning, but Sam got a little carried away. You'll probably hear from him later, after he sleeps it off."
Quinn poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, looking at Gail. "Are you here to see Oliver?" she asked the Angel.
"No, I'm actually here to see you, Quinn," Gail replied. She took a deep breath, then let it out. "Is it true you said that you think there's something going on between me and Sam?" she asked the medium.
Quinn frowned. "Did he tell you that? I didn't think he would."
"So, it's true," Gail said, surprised. A large part of her had been hoping that Sam had just exaggerated, or misunderstood. "Why would you think that, Quinn?" Gail continued to say. "I love Sam like a brother. There's never been anything like that going on between us. Never. I'm head over heels in love with Cas. I always have been. And Cas and I are married. I take my vows very seriously."
"But you won't be married soon, will you?" Quinn asked Gail bluntly. "You're not even living together."
"How did you know that?" Gail said, and Quinn gave her a look. Oh. Right.
"Sam's in love with you," Quinn went on, her gaze steady. "He always has been, ever since the day he met you. I can feel it every time we're, you know..."
Aw, crap. Why had Gail ever thought that this would be a good idea? Now she'd opened up the can, and the worms were crawling all over the place. "Look, Quinn," she said quietly, "even if that was true, and I'm not saying it is, you have absolutely no reason to worry about that. None. Cas and I have a bit of a personal issue going on right now, but it's just a bump in the road. That's all. We're madly in love, and we're going to remarry. Actually, I'm surprised you wouldn't already know that. If you want to, you can take my hand. Here." She grabbed Quinn's hand across the table. "Read me. Go ahead. I'm an open book."
Quinn saw Cas and Gail together, kissing and holding hands. Then she saw them with Sam and Dean in some kind of a tropical setting. At first, Quinn felt a little put out: where was she? Where was Nicole? But then, she realized that the four of them weren't there for a holiday. They were there because they had to find Gail's father, before it was too late. Gail's father, the man who starred almost every night in Quinn's nightmares, these days. Ever since the day that Vincent had been here, Quinn had been on edge, afraid he would come back. And it didn't help that Oliver was still tethered to the house, and Oliver was terrified of his brother. He and Quinn had argued about that. Oliver was already dead, Quinn had said, exasperated. What did he have to fear, then? But Oliver had retorted that if Vincent got a hold of the Book of the Dead, that fact would cease to matter. No, Quinn wanted nothing to do with Vincent.
But now, as she held Gail's hand, Quinn was seeing Vincent anyway. He was talking to a shorter man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, and when the shorter man spoke, he spoke with an English accent.
"Is Frank your only brother?" Quinn asked Gail, pulling her hand away. She didn't want to look at Vincent's face any more, because Quinn had the creepy feeling that he was looking right back at her, even in the vision.
Gail looked at Sam's girlfriend, puzzled. What did that have to do with anything? She opened up her mouth to answer, and then she closed it again. Actually, that wasn't a very easy question to answer, when you were in Gail's situation. "Why do you ask?" she settled for.
Quinn told her what she'd seen, and Gail pursed her lips together angrily. Crowley! It had to be. Crowley and Vincent, Vincent and Crowley. Once Cas killed Rowena for Crowley, Gail and the King of Hell were going to have a wee little chat. Gail's lips twitched. It was a good thing that Quinn hadn't been holding her hand for that particular little gem. Gail could tell by the expression on the woman's face that she was leery about the whole lot of them right now as it was. And really, who could blame her?
Quinn frowned again. "Look, Gail, you seem like a very nice person. You and Cas, both. But whenever I have any visions involving you guys, all I see is death, and blood, and destruction."
Gail was dismayed. "I'm sorry, Quinn. The last thing I wanted to do was bring all that crap in here and dump it in your lap. But please don't take it out on Sam. He's a good guy, and I know he likes you a lot."
Quinn sighed. "And I'm sorry too, Gail. I don't know why I said what I said. I know there's nothing going on between you and Sam."
"OK. Good. Well, OK, then," Gail said awkwardly. Now she was debating whether or not to say anything about Nicole. But Gail was getting a vibe from Quinn now. It was Quinn who was the psychic, but Gail was getting a very strong feeling that Sam's girlfriend wanted her to leave, but couldn't quite figure out how to tell her so without being rude.
As Gail was trying to work out whether or not she wanted to talk to Quinn any longer, she was saved by the bell. In a manner of speaking.
"Cas is calling me," she said, smiling, and Quinn relaxed. She hadn't sincerely believed there was anything that amiss in Cas and Gail's marriage. Quinn had likely just been using that as an excuse. She had actually been considering breaking up with Sam, just to be rid of all of them. Well, everyone except for Oliver, of course. The Ghost Who Wouldn't Leave. In fact, his continued presence might be the only reason that Quinn hadn't severed her ties with them already. But, no one could honestly believe that Gail wasn't still head over heels in love with her husband if they were to see Gail's face right now. She just had a different look about her when she mentioned his name.
"Sorry, Quinn, I've got to go," Gail told the psychic. "I hope you feel better about everything now. Do you mind if I just pop out from here?"
"Not at all," Quinn replied. But that was it. That was all she said. Gail sighed inwardly. She guessed she understood how Quinn felt, but it was a shame that things had to be so uncomfortable between all of them at the moment. She wondered, when they saw Nicole next, if it would be the same thing with Dean's girlfriend. Of course, it might help if Dean didn't shut Nicole out so much. Here they had been, celebrating the fact that Dean had been released, and at last report, Nicole didn't even know that Dean had been arrested. But that was Dean's business. Gail's meddling days were officially over.
She said goodbye to Quinn and popped out.
Cas had not sounded happy when he'd called her, and Gail soon found out why, as soon as she got there.
"They're both gone?" she asked the men incredulously. "How did that happen?"
Crowley was sitting morosely in the chair opposite where Rowena had been sitting, up until a few minutes ago. "She summoned Raguel here, telling him that she was alone, and needed rescuing," the King of Hell said in a clipped tone.
"OK, so...I thought that was what you wanted," Gail said, bewildered.
"Too true," Crowley remarked sardonically, looking at Cas, who was pacing the floor angrily. "But Raguel showed up with a little item from Heaven's arsenal, didn't he, Castiel?"
"I told you, I didn't know he had the torch," Cas said, tight-lipped. "Had I known, I would have made preparations."
"Torch?" Gail inquired. "What are you talking about?"
"Never you mind," Crowley said irascibly.
"Are you all right, sweetie?" Gail asked Cas.
"Of course HE'S okay. He's bloody God, isn't he?" Crowley exclaimed. "It's ME who had to dodge the Holy fire that came out of the thing! All it gave your husband was a nice, brown tan."
Cas put his arms around his wife, attempting to comfort her. "It's all right, my love," he told her. "If anything, Gabriel should have told me that the weapon was missing. He should have sensed it. You didn't know about the torch."
Gail completely forgot about the ring that Gabriel had mentioned to her a while back, in her distress that Raguel and Rowena had gotten away. And now, Crowley was needling her: "Look, I know that you only care about your husband to the exclusion of all else, Hester Prynne, but - "
"What? What did you call me?" Gail said, startled. She pried herself out of Cas's arms and approached the chair where Crowley was sitting.
"It's a literary reference," he said airily. He finished the drink he'd been holding and snapped his fingers, freshening his glass immediately. He'd been shaken up by the incident, more so than he wanted to admit. If his reflexes hadn't been as sharp as they were, the King of Hell would be a smoking puddle of black goo on the floor right now. It would certainly have been nice to know that Raguel had had that bloody torch. And while he didn't really believe that there had been any malice on the Angels' part, he was still not very pleased about it.
"I know what that is," Gail shot back. "I'm well-read, you know. I used to be an avid reader as a child, until I was made to flee my home," she added pointedly. Crowley's reference to The Scarlet Letter had gotten under her skin. First, Quinn says something along those lines, and now Crowley? Where the hell did they get off? "You'd better not be suggesting that I'm stepping out on my husband, because if you are, you and I can have a go, right now," she said to Crowley, raising her voice.
He raised an eyebrow to her. "You'd better have a chat with your wife, Castiel," the King said, bemused. "I think she's been spending a little too much time with your Winchesters." He gave Gail a sarcastic smile. "I wasn't referring to your 'stepping out' on Castiel, as you so charmingly put it," Crowley said to her. "My apologies for the misunderstanding. I should have called you Priscilla, instead."
"What's your point?" she asked him, making a face.
"My point, sweetheart, is that you and John Alden over there are the most duplicitous people I've ever had the misfortune to be involved with," Crowley rasped. "It wouldn't surprise me one bit to discover that you two were setting me up all along. You're an accomplished liar, after all, aren't you, Gail?"
"Look, I don't know what happened here before I got here, but YOU'VE got a lot of nerve, calling ME a liar. You, of all people," Gail said to him. "I'm telling you the truth. We didn't set you up."
Crowley took another sip of his drink. "Well, regardless, you and Castiel deserved what you got in New England."
Now, Gail was enraged. "How dare you?!" she shouted at him. "Just because you didn't get your way, and your mother is still alive? Are you really that childish and petty? You have no idea what happened to us in New England! No idea. You need to keep your big mouth shut."
"I have a pretty good idea what might have happened," Crowley said coolly. "And I still say it serves you right."
"Get this through your thick skull," Gail said through clenched teeth. "You don't own me. You never did, although Lord knows, you tried. But that was centuries ago, and so was that other mess, in Camelot. And you'd better not be trying to say that I cheated on YOU, back then. The circumstances of that era forced me into a so-called marriage with you. But it was always Cas I was meant to be with, it will always be Cas, and everyone needs to acknowledge that, and just shut up about it!"
"Why are you so rant-y, all of a sudden?" Crowley asked her. He gestured with his glass. "Do you want me to snap you up one of these? Maybe a drink or three will calm you down. Then, you could invite Lover Boy over there back to your place on Earth. The sex is always a lot more exciting when it's out of wedlock, isn't it, Guinevere?"
Gail had had it with him. But it was strange; Cas had been suspiciously silent throughout their whole argument. She looked at her husband now. He was standing still, staring at the wall, apparently lost in thought.
"Cas? Do you want to get in on this, or are you just going to let him talk to me like that?" Gail said to her husband, maybe in a sharper tone than she had intended.
"Hmm? Oh. Yes," Cas said distractedly.
Now Gail knew for sure that he hadn't been paying attention. She walked over to him. "What's the matter, sweetie?" she said softly.
Cas HAD been preoccupied. Before Raguel had seized Rowena by the arm and winked them both out of there, he had looked at Castiel and said, "That was just a taste, Castiel. If you will not do your job properly, I will have no choice but to do it for you. Once I recover the rest of the Book of Life, prepare to lose all you hold dear." Then he had popped them out.
Cas was thinking about that now. So THAT was what that had been. Other than the Father Himself, the only things that had the power to do what they had experienced in the bunker were the Books of Life, and of the Dead. Every long-standing Angel knew about those Books. They were the stuff of legend. Just one page from either of those ancient tomes was enough to alter the fabric of history, albeit temporarily, if it was just one page. Raguel must have gotten his hands on a flyleaf from the Book, and used it to prove a point. But what would that point have been, exactly? Raguel was the Angel of Wrath, but now that Cas had been cured of his disease, he was no longer interested in wrath, just for wrath's sake. If righteous anger was warranted, he would be more than willing to apply it. But Cas wanted more than anything to be a kind, loving, and compassionate God. That was his real job, as far as he was concerned. And he had a very good idea as to how he wanted to start.
"Let's go, my love," Cas said to his wife. Then he winked them out of there, leaving a very disgruntled King of Hell behind.
Ammit stood at the edge of the Lake of Fire, looking down. She could hear the screams of agony coming from the hapless souls she had just thrown in there. She took a deep breath, inhaling all the misery as a human with a head cold would inhale a medicine that cleared the sinuses.
As always, she felt the rush of power that arose from the influx of fresh souls. But, that power was fleeting. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough for the level of power she was going to need if she hoped to compete on a level playing field with Raguel, Papa Legba, or God. Ammit was tired of waiting here by the Lake for the trickle of souls that came her way. She had stood aside, observing, while Raguel attempted to jump-start the Holy War. Ammit had been all for it. She'd been looking forward to receiving a vast influx of souls once the War began. But there had been no War, and she was growing impatient now.
The Archangel had apparently stumbled upon a flyleaf page of the Book of Life and used it up, seemingly on a whim. And the voodoo Priest had been flitting around on Earth, albeit covertly, watching his offspring. The vultures were circling, and it didn't seem as though they were planning to play by the usual code of conduct. So, if they didn't, why should she?
Ammit winked herself away.
