Spending hours in a car with the Winchesters wasn't exactly Spencer's idea of a great time. They played their music loud, it was all classic rock, and they didn't really try to say much for the first hour and a half of the trip. That left Spencer curled up in the backseat staring out the window and hoping that eventually the music might at least go down to a level that didn't leave him feeling like the band was trying to play inside of his head.

He'd always been good at entertaining himself, though. It didn't take long before he was folding his legs up and tucking his feet underneath himself and reaching for the light that was growing steadily brighter day by day. Spencer had become so much more connected to his grace since Gabriel had begun to teach him about it. He saw it so much clearer now when he looked inside. Not just the light of his grace, but the light of his soul as well. It was becoming less 'inside of him' and more just 'him' with each passing day.

However, him getting more comfortable with it meant that he was also more willing to use it, and that was something that wasn't necessarily good for the boys in the front seat. Especially since their passenger was bored.

When however they were listening to this time hit a note that had Spencer wincing and wondering how on earth people listened to this kind of stuff on a daily basis, he decided to take matters into his own hands a little. Or, fingers.

A very quiet snap and then there was a slight scratching sound from the stereo before the tape simply cut out.

He'd thought about ruining it. Only for a second, though. He couldn't really be that mean. But stopping it from playing? Oh, he had absolutely no qualms about that. He sat there happily and blessed the brief moment of quiet. Not even Dean's annoyed "What the hell?" really bothered him.

When Sam snuck a look at him in the mirror, Spencer kept his face calm and composed, giving away nothing. The twinkle in the hunter's eye told him he wasn't succeeding as well as he'd hoped.

Spencer ignored the continued grumbles from the front seat and tried to smother a yawn. Another snap brought him a cup of coffee - which proceeded to almost be spilled against his hand when Dean jerked the wheel. "What the hell?" The older Winchester snapped, eyes darting up to the mirror and back to the road again. "What're you snapping up back there?"

Eyebrows raised, Spencer held up his coffee. "Um...coffee."

"Dude." He could see the scowl that grew on Dean's features. "You can't just sit back there snapping things."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm still not used to the fact that you can do it and I'm used to needing to flinch from a snap, all right?"

That wiped away Spencer's confusion. He ducked his head down, letting his bangs go over his face in the hopes of hiding his smile. Though he knew that Gabriel hadn't exactly been the friendliest to these hunters, he also knew that not all the things he'd done to them were necessarily 'mean'. They'd had their purpose. Still, he could see why snapping would be something that might set them on edge. "I'll endeavor to keep my snapping to a minimum." Spencer promised them. "However, bear in mind I have to practice sometimes. It's the only way I'm going to gain any control."

"Snapping up coffee is practice?" Dean asked him skeptically.

Spencer nodded. "Yes. For the most part, Gabriel's had me using my grace to either call up something that's already in existence and transport it to me, or take something that's already there and change it – such as extending Mr. Singer's table. But I've been gaining more control over that so he's having me work more on my illusions and my ability to create something out of nothing. It's much easier to start with something small and something I'm already quite familiar with, such as a good cup of coffee." Lifting his cup, he took a small drink and made a happy sound. He'd gotten it right. Then he looked back up at the boys. "Speaking of – would either of you like a cup?"

"A cup of potentially bad angel practice coffee? No, thanks." Dean said. Sam, however, twisted in his seat and smiled at him as he said "Yeah, actually. That sounds great."

His smile was contagious. Spencer found himself returning it without even thinking about it. He held up his free hand poised to snap. "Any special requests?"

"Pumpkin spice?"

Dean huffed at that, obviously ready to mock his little brother, but Spencer simply said "Good choice" and focused before snapping. A tall to-go cup appeared in Sam's hand. Just for the sake of being amusing, the cup was decorated like his was. Only whereas Spencer's had a map of Middle Earth wrapped around it, Sam's was tall and blue and decorated like the TARDIS. It made Sam chuckle a little before he took a drink. Spencer waited patiently, only relaxing when he saw Sam's pleased expression. "It's great, Spencer. Really great. Thank you!"

"Absolutely."

"You girls done gossiping over your froofy coffees?" Dean asked them mockingly. "You think maybe we could get around to discussing the case now?"

Spencer refrained from pointing out that Dean had been the one preventing them from talking about the case by blasting his music for most of the car ride. Holding back his comments, and the roll of his eyes, he settled back in his seat as Sam began to explain their case to them.

The case itself wasn't any real tough one from what Spencer could see. He had to agree with Sam's assessment that it was some restless spirit tied to an old, haunted house on the edge of town in Bismarck, North Dakota. It was just going to take a bit of research on Sam's part to find out who might've died there and a bit of watch duty on Dean's part if this took too long to keep people away from the house so no one got hurt until Sam could tell them all who they were after and where the body was buried. But all the attacks had happened at night, so they had until nightfall before Dean had to go out and play guard dog.

None of that was really anything that Spencer could help on. But he hadn't really come with the expectation of helping on this case like he'd told them. He had sort of known that he wasn't going to be much help on cases. Really, he'd come with them because he knew that they weren't going to just head back to Bobby's after this. These two weren't made for that. They were made for the road, for moving and working and saving people, no matter what else was going on. If he wanted to be able to get more comfortable around them, to be able to work with them, he needed to be with them. That was one of the main reasons that he was here. If they needed his help, of course he'd help them, but he had a feeling they weren't going to ask for it.

That was fine. They wouldn't have to ask him. With him here, he'd be able to see when they needed it and step in without them ever having to ask.

Of course, he still gave them all a little bit of space as well so that he could be here without crowding them. He had his own room, much to Dean's annoyance, just a little further down the row. The last thing he wanted was to be rooming with these two or right up next to them. Not that he really thought Gabriel would stay away that long or anything like that. Still, it was better to be prepared, and he didn't want to get stuck bunking with the brothers. So he'd gotten himself a room, taken his things in there and warded it all, and then came down here to their room.

They were still settling in when Dean opened the door to his knock and let him in. A look around showed that they hadn't warded their room yet or anything. They were still unpacking their weapons. Wanting to be of some use, Spencer hesitantly offered "Would you like me to get your room warded while you guys unpack?"

"Sure." Dean answered. He pulled a marker from his bag and tossed it over to Spencer, who fumbled for a moment before managing to catch it. The fledgling looked down at it and furrowed his brows before he looked back up. Why, exactly, did he need this? Sam must've seen his look before he gestured towards the walls. "It's for the wards. Not perfect, we know, but it does in a pinch."

"Don't motels wonder why on earth you leave rooms with scribbles all over the walls?" Spencer asked. Wasn't that like leaving a blatant trail behind them saying 'I was here'?

Dean scooped up the gun bag off his bed and brought it over to the table, setting it down with a solid thunk. "You got a better idea, genius boy?"

He had to resist rolling his eyes at the nickname. Ignoring the boys for the moment, Spencer drew in a breath and prepared himself to do exactly what he'd done to his room. He walked over to one of the walls and lifted his hand so that he could rest his palm flat against the wall. Then, with just a bit of focus, he breathed out and let his grace flow out from him. All along the wall sigils shone in a faint light before slowly fading away. He smiled when he stepped back to look at them. Though they were invisible to others now, he could see them faintly if he looked for them. "There." Turning back, he smiled at the boys, both of whom were watching him with surprise and curiosity. "I can erase them before we leave so no one will ever know we were here. For now, we're safe from everything I could think of."

That got both their approval. Spencer flushed under their smiles and quickly turned away.

There wasn't really anything that Spencer could do in here with them at the moment and he knew it. He could stand there awkwardly while Sam researched, maybe bother Dean a little bit, but he'd already been cooped up for a while with them and it was stretching his comfort just a bit. So, without really giving them much time to protest or comment, he excused himself with the warning of "Come get me when you have anything." And then he was gone, heading out the door and towards his own room.

There, at least, he could have something to do. From his bag he pulled out books on Famine, the Horsemen that he was studying. Bobby was taking care of research on Pestilence. The two had come to the agreement that they'd split things up that way to make it easier.

Spencer stood in his room and looked at the things he'd brought with him. For a moment he just chewed on the inside of his lip. So far he'd tried tracking Famine and learning about him the way that a Hunter would. Maybe it was time to try and work this the way that a Profiler would.

Rolling up his sleeves, Spencer got to work.

He was still at it hours later when Dean came knocking at his door. Spencer had been so caught up in what he was doing he'd forgotten entirely about almost everything else – the brothers included. So when the loud knocking finally broke through his thoughts he was a bit surprised to see that at least two hours has passed by since he'd started. He pushed back a bit of hair and quickly hurried over to open up the door to reveal a slightly annoyed looking Dean on the other side. "Took you long enough, Doc."

"Sorry." Spencer apologized automatically. "I was working." Tilting his head a little, he looked beyond Dean, expecting to see Sam but finding no one there. His gaze dropped back to the hunter. "Is everything all right?"

"It's fine. Sammy went out to get some food." Without waiting for any sort of invitation, he shouldered his way past Spencer and moved into the room like he owned the place. "We figured out who we're going after. Soon as it's dark, we'll go salt'n'burn her." Stopping in the middle of the room, Dean let out a low whistle. "Looks like you've been, ah, busy." Hands in his pockets, he looked around the room, and Spencer flushed just a little. The whole place probably looked just a little chaotic.

Shutting the door, Spencer hurried to clear some space at the room's little excuse for a table. He scooped up the papers there and, after a quick debate, dumped them down on the pillow on his bed. "I've been working as well. Getting out of the same space and into a motel seems to have triggered the profiler in me and so I thought I'd try to put that to use in tracking down Famine."

"Have you found anything?"

"Maybe." Turning back towards the map he had tacked up on the wall, Spencer contemplated the pins he'd placed there. He didn't pay much attention to Dean coming over and standing beside him. His focus was on the map. "I need Gabriel to confirm for me that some of these deaths were, in fact, Famine. On some of them I can't quite be sure. But if they are, there might be a pattern. One that I could use to predict where he's going next."

That definitely had Dean standing up a bit more at attention. Spencer could actually feel it as his emotions and thoughts all sharpened and focused right on Spencer and his map. "You can really predict where he'll go?"

"Theoretically. While Horsemen aren't human – and profiling is used to predict human behavior – they do seem to share some similarities, and he does have some goal in mind. This is far too organized to be just simple pleasure of killing." That was what had struck him the most about it all. This wasn't random, wasn't just deaths of opportunity. There seemed to be something controlled about the whole thing. "Assuming that Lucifer is directing the Horsemen, I think it's safe to say that there's some goal in mind for each of them. Some plan that will, in turn, help further Lucifer's main plan. Lucifer's brilliant, Gabriel said. One of their best tacticians. And he's had plenty of time to plan. If we could figure out his smaller plans it'd be much easier to track the Horsemen down, of course, but we can work with what we have and what we know of them and their powers. It's not hard to think of a list of things that they might do."

"Well, Lucifer wants to destroy the planet, so they're all probably working towards the same thing." Dean said.

Spencer shook his head. No, that didn't feel right. He'd thought that already and had dismissed it hours ago. "His motives aren't that simple. He's not that simple."

"What're you talking about?"

"Think of it like this." Turning, Spencer focused on his friend, trying to figure out how to put into words the things that he'd been thinking of these past few hours. "We all know the story of the Morningstar, correct?"

"Yeah. God wanted him to bow to humans and Lucifer refused, right?"

"According to what I've pieced together from Gabriel, the books, and a bit of lore, the best that Bobby and I understand it is that Lucifer was God's favorite, but when God asked for all angels to bow down to humanity, Lucifer refused, claiming that he could love none more than his Father. He grew jealous of beings that he began to see as nothing more than broken and flawed. His view of us was tainted straight from the start. It led him to wage a war that he eventually lost, ending with him being cast out and locked into the cage by Michael."

Dean nodded at him. "Yeah, Doc, we know all this."

Holding his hands up, Spencer gestured for patience. "Bear with me here. Just, try and see that from his point of view for a moment, Dean. Imagine what you would've felt like if your Dad had grabbed up something that you saw as nothing more than tiny little bugs and he held them out to you and told you that you had to love them, these little bugs you didn't even notice, more than you loved him, more than you loved Sammy, more than you loved anything." He saw Dean start to protest and hurried on. "I know, I know, but just think about it. Think how you'd feel. Then try and picture what it would be like for you to argue with him over it and for him to get so pissed off at you that he not only throws you out, he has your brother, the one being you're closest with, lock you in a cage. A cage that is in the very depths of hell."

He saw Dean shiver and knew that the man was remembering his own time in hell. Spencer hated to do anything to trigger those memories but he was trying to make a point here. When he continued, his voice was just a bit gentler.

"Now imagine spending eons in there. Time beyond our imagining. Because we both know that time runs faster in hell. The deeper you go, the faster time runs. So what was eons for us – imagine how long that was for him. And he's been down there this entire time, alone. If he heard anything at all, it would've been the sounds of hell, or the whisper of demons. Humans turn in less time than that. What do you think happened to the brightest of all God's angels?"

"He's insane." Dean said. Only, it was without the bite that it might've carried earlier. It wasn't angry, wasn't snarky. It was the closest that Spencer imagined the man had ever come to feeling sorry for the devil.

"Most assuredly." Spencer said softly. "He's had time in there to stew and twist and break in ways that none of us can even begin to comprehend. That's why I say that destroying the planet is far too simple a goal for him. He's hurt and he's broken and he's mostly insane, but he's also beyond brilliant. He's had plenty of time to build his plans. Figuring them out won't be easy. Stopping them won't be either."

"So how the hell do we have any hope?"

That one sentence was so forlorn, so devoid of any actual hope at all, that Spencer's grace throbbed with the need to comfort. He almost reached out only to draw his hand back and curl his fingers in. His touch probably wouldn't be welcome and he'd never been all that great at offering comfort as it was. "There's always hope." He said instead. "Always. Sometimes you just have to look a little harder for it."

The room felt quiet for a moment and Spencer could tell that Dean was trying to process everything he'd just heard. He hated that he'd made the hunter so worried and hoped with everything he had that he hadn't messed up here and taken away Dean's sense of hope. He hadn't meant to make Dean more upset or knock him down. He'd just been sharing facts. Sometimes he just…forgot that those facts could hurt people.

Eventually, though, Dean shook his head and his expression was a mask that Spencer didn't bother trying to read through. "I thought we were discussing Horsemen, not Lucifer's mental state." Dean said, sounding almost like his old self.

Spencer watched him for a second. Then he made a mental note to keep an eye on him; maybe even ask Gabriel or Castiel to do the same. Keeping his own thoughts hidden, he nodded a little to let Dean know he recognized the diversion for what it was and would respect it. "Well his mental state reflects directly on the plans he's building, which in turn reflects on what the Horsemen are going to be doing. They're all pawns in the chess game that he's playing. Understanding the player is key to understanding their moves." Spencer turned back towards the map and chewed on his lip once more as he let his mind wander. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit hazy and distracted sounding. "I just need to figure out what kind of purpose it would serve to make people hungry. Famine would enjoy it. But what would Lucifer want with it? Is there a purpose? Or is it just…is he a distraction?"

"Something to keep us running around like idiots, maybe." Dean said. He was facing the map now as well and running his eyes over it. While many people considered Sam the smart one of the duo, it by no means meant that Dean wasn't smart. He had a bright mind and a sense for a puzzle and a hunt like few Spencer had seen. It was something he'd noticed in the Winchester Gospels and something that he was starting to see with the more time that he spent with them. Sam was brilliant in a very scholarly way that appealed to Spencer in a friend. Dean was brilliant in a way kind of like Derek. He was tough, could kick ass when needed – and much preferred to – but he also had a brilliant mind that people tended to not notice beyond the charming smile and the punch-first attitude.

Keeping that in mind, as well as the fact that Dean more than anyone else seemed to doubt his own intelligence, Spencer kept his voice casual and distracted while paying close attention as he asked "Is that what you would do?"

"Probably." Dean murmured. "I mean, it'd keep us out of his hair, wouldn't it? Keep us running around. Besides, making someone hungry? Not exactly a scary power."

"Famine doesn't make you hungry for just food. Gabriel says it takes whatever you want most, whatever your addiction is, and makes you crave it more than anything."

The room went quiet as the two men thought about it. It was Dean who figured things out first. Spencer actually felt it as the realization hit the man, the stunned shock that slapped into him followed almost immediately by horror. He looked over to find Dean staring, wide eyed, at the map. "Sammy." The man breathed out.

"What?" What was he talking about? Spencer's whole body tensed, even his grace, as he turned to fully face the hunter.

Dean looked like he was going to be sick. "He's using him as a way to get to Sammy."

That was all it took for it to start to click in Spencer's brain, too. When it did he realized how stupid he'd been not to think of it before. "The demon blood."

"Jesus." Dean pushed a hand through his hair and turned to look at Spencer. "He gets Sammy back on that, screws with his head…"

"…they'd have a much better chance of controlling him." Spencer finished. He knew his eyes were wide as the implications set in. This was bad. This was so, so bad. "All they'd have to do is get him as high as could be and then take it away. In withdrawals, nothing ever makes sense. All you want is more. You'd do almost anything to get it."

Temper had Dean spinning and marching away from Spencer, like distance from him could get him distance from his words. "Sammy wouldn't say Yes. Even half outta his head, he wouldn't say Yes." He spat out. Still, Spencer heard the doubt under there, the fear that maybe he was wrong.

From what Spencer knew of Sam – and that wasn't much, he had to remind himself, he'd barely known these boys for long – he didn't think that Dean was right. "I think he's still say No, Dean. But…that's if he even knew what he was saying Yes or No to." He hated to keep being the bearer of bad news but this was important. Memories of his own withdrawal washed over him and he fought back a wave of nausea. "When you're deep in withdrawal not everything makes sense. They could confuse him, mess with his head, and in the end he could tell Lucifer Yes without ever even knowing it. He could make Sam think he was you and use that to trick him. In that state of mind, Sam might not be able to see through the lies."

The two were still standing there, staring at one another with a sense of horror, when there was a knock on the motel room door. Spencer was the one to move. Numb, he went over and opened the door up, revealing not only Sam but Gabriel as well. The two took one look at Spencer and then in to Dean and the smiles they wore wiped free. "What is it?" Gabriel demanded, pushing in and going right to Spencer. "What's wrong?"

"Dean?" Sam called out, coming in just a bit slower, his expression much more cautious. Bags of food were clenched in his hands and he had to use his foot to shut the door behind him. But his eyes stayed locked right on his big brother. He didn't ask anything else; just Dean's name had been enough to convey plenty of questions.

Dean flinched visibly at the sound of his name. His gaze shot to Spencer and the glare he wore was enough to have Spencer's mouth clicking shut. "It's nothing." Dean said gruffly.

"Nothing?" Sam repeated the word, his disbelief evident in his voice.

"Nothing." Dean snapped back. His voice made it clear he wasn't going to argue this. "Just a private conversation, if that's all right with you." Then he turned on his heel and marched right into the bathroom in a move they all recognized for the retreat it was.

No sooner had the door slammed shut than two sets of eyes moved right to Spencer and locked on him. He drew in a deep breath and then made a split second decision. "If he wants to talk about it, he'll tell you." That said, he turned away from them and went to his map, hoping that he was doing the right thing. This wasn't something to keep from someone. They should be telling Sam, helping to keep him safe so that he never had to go around Famine. They shouldn't be keeping this from him. But Sam was Dean's brother and, for now, he'd let Dean handle it.

For now.