Fallen, Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere

by The Urban Spaceman

There's a new angel on the scene. Castiel is suspicious, Dean is pissed off, Sam is cautiously optimistic, and Bobby is driven to distraction when his safe-room is turned into a celestial jail cell. Set during mid season 5.

3. Hounded by Hell

Fallen

Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere

Chapter 3

- Hounded by Hell -

Yellow Creek was a quaint, all-American town. Star-spangled flags hung from the buildings in the town centre, blowing gently in the morning breeze. The first rays of sunlight were flooding over the area when Castiel teleported himself along with Sam and Dean to a quiet spot behind a tall wooden building. Most of the houses were wood here, Dean realised. Not the best place to fight in; wood houses burnt too easily, were harder to fortify. He would have preferred to fight in a town of stone buildings, but you rarely got the chance to pick your own battlefield. If this was what he had to work with, it was what he would work with.

"First things first," Dean said, hoisting his carryall onto his shoulder. "We find a motel, get a room. We can't carry all this stuff around with us. Then, we look around, scope out the town. The way I see it, we have two options. One, we evacuate the whole town, which is going to take a crapload of time, not to mention we need to find somewhere to put an entire town's worth of people. Or two, we make a stand. That means either fortifying the town and finding some way to keep the people in their houses, or we try to find this pack before it reaches us and put the doggies down before they can hit the town."

"I should look for the barghest pack whilst you and Sam find a motel," said Cas. "The grigori intimated we may only have a few hours before they strike."

"Wait, I thought you didn't believe her?" said Sam.

"I am simply erring on the side of caution."

"Alright," Dean agreed. "Find the pack. But don't engage them. Give me a call when you've found them, and we'll give you a heads up on where we're at."

Castiel teleported away, and Dean turned to survey the street. A postman's van was already on the roads, the blue-uniformed man starting his rounds, but there were few other civilians around. It would only be an hour or so before shop-keepers started opening up for business, however, and not long after that, people would start leaving their homes, to go to work and do their shopping. It was a small miracle that today was a Saturday; at least the kids wouldn't be heading off to school en mass.

"Hey, check it out," Sam said, nodding at a nearby building. A sign over its door proclaimed it 'The Pine Lodge Motel.'

"Well, it's as good a place as any."

They made their way to the building, and Dean was pleased to see a 'vacancies' sign in the window. Opening the front door, he quickly discovered that The Pine Lodge Motel smelled, unsurprisingly, of pine trees. It wasn't a bad smell, but it was a little overpowering. He sneezed three times in rapid succession, and blinked to clear his vision.

A middle-aged man with a thick grey moustache and wearing a plaid woollen jumper was sitting behind the front desk, and he smiled when he saw his prospective customers.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, we'd like a room for one night," Dean replied.

"Smoking, or non-smoking?"

"Non-smoking," Sam said quickly. He hated the smell of cigarettes.

"With one double bed, or two singles?" the man asked, with a helpful smile.

Dean gave him what he hoped was a stony look. "Two singles."

"No offence intended. The Pine Lodge Hotel is a friendly establishment which welcomes couples no matter their... orientation."

"Good to know. But we still only want the singles."

"Very well. Room number eight. The rate is sixty dollars a night, payable on check-out. Here is your key, mister..."

"Grant. James Grant. And this is my brother, Tom."

"Welcome to Yellow Creek, gentleman," the man said, shaking both of their hands. "And I hope you do enjoy your stay."

"Thanks. Oh, by the way, you couldn't give me a rough guess on how many people live in Yellow Creek, could you?"

"Sure. About four hundred, though it's always busier during hunting season. You boys are lucky you came now, and not a week later. I'm fully booked up for weeks at a time, in hunting season."

What Dean wanted to say, was 'It's always hunting season for us.' But he didn't, because it would have sounded weird, and illegal, and he didn't want any more complications than absolutely necessary. Instead, he said, "Thank you," and let the man get on with his day.

"Shouldn't we have gotten a room with three beds?" Sam asked, as they left the motel and walked down the side of the building to look for door number eight.

"Cas doesn't sleep, and we're not staying long enough to need the beds."

"Really? You think we'll be done before night-fall?"

"I guarantee it," he replied confidently. "Shoot a few puppies full of lead and have Cas zap us back to Bobby's in time for dinner. Maybe we can even stop off along the way and pick some dinner up. At least then we won't have to suffer his 'cooking'."

When he found door eight, he slid the key into the lock and opened it up. The room wasn't large, but it was cleaner than most other motels he'd stayed in. For a start, it smelt much more... piney. The sheets looked completely unstained, too. Sometimes, he had prayed for a room like this. Perhaps this job wouldn't be too bad after all.

He dumped his bag down on the bed closest to the door—he preferred to take the bed closest to the room's entry and egress route, so that anything breaking in would encounter him before Sam—and went straight to the mini-bar. He pulled out a couple of beers, cracked one of the bottles open, and sat down in an armchair, plonking his feet onto the small coffee table.

"Dean," Sam said. He looked up at his younger brother, who'd deposited his own carryall on the second bed, and was now sitting there with that look in his brown eyes. 'That' look was one which said 'I want to talk about my feelings, and probably yours too.' Dean hated that look. And, guessing at what was coming, he tried to deflect it with a joke.

"Liquid breakfast, Sam. You should grab one too. Shouldn't hunt on an empty stomach."

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't anything about this bother you?"

"Sure," he said, taking a long swig of the beer before elaborating. "It bothers me that I have frickin' angels wandering into my head and trying to get me to hunt for them."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Do I?"

"I know how you're feeling, because it brings it all back for me too. Jo and Ellen... you haven't even talked about them since their deaths." Sam gave his brother a sad, hopeful expression.

"There's nothing to discuss, Sam. They were hunters. They died doing their jobs. Yes, it was a tragedy. Yes, I wish I could make those demonic sons of bitches pay. But this situation is nothing like that."

"We're hunting hellhounds again for the first time since that day."

"No," he said angrily. He hated the way his heart lurched at the thought of Ellen, and her daughter Jo. The women had believed in him. They, along with Sam and Cas, had followed him to where Lucifer was waiting to summon Death. When hellhounds had attacked, commanded by Meg, Jo had been mortally wounded. She and Ellen had stayed behind to take out the hellhounds, giving Sam and Dean a chance to strike at Lucifer. Two people he cared about had died because he had made bad decisions. He should never have let them join the mission. He would not make that mistake again. "We're hunting barghests. They're visible, and killable by everything we have. Do you think I'm just going to lose it, and turn this into some sort of vengeance spree? I'm here to do my job, Sam. I'm here to kill some hell-spawn puppies. Not to talk about my feelings."

Sam opened his mouth, but was cut off by a ringing sound. Dean reached into his pocket for his phone, checked the caller ID, and answered.

"I've found them," said Castiel.

"We're in room eight, the Pine Lodge Motel," Dean replied.

There was a rush of air into the room, and Cas appeared by the door. The angel pocketed his cell-phone; he was getting better at doing that. Normally he dropped it.

"What'd you see?" Dean asked him.

Cas did not look pleased. To be fair, he rarely looked pleased, but he seemed even surlier than usual when he spoke. "A pack of nine barghests. At their current speed and position, I estimate they will be here in three hours."

"That doesn't give us much time to evacuate a town," said Sam. "And not much time to try and convince people to stay in their houses."

"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully. "We'll just have to see what we've got to work with. Sam, you scout out the lie of the land. Cas, you and I will go and speak with the local law-enforcement."

"Wouldn't I be better scouting out the land?" Cas asked. "I can get a better view."

"And do you know what you're looking for?"

"Well... land, I would assume?" the angel replied, looking confused.

"Have you ever tried to defend a town against monsters before? Do you know what kind of buildings make the best safe-houses, and which areas are best for setting up defences and traps?"

"No. But as you may recall, my abilities with law enforcement agents are somewhat lacking."

"Don't worry, I'll do all the talking."

"Dean," Sam said, "three hours isn't long enough to evacuate an entire town. There are going to be old people here. Parents with young children. Injured and sick folks."

"Then we'll evacuate as many as we can and barricade the rest in their homes. Or... Cas, we know that hellhounds will chase a target until they kill it, once they're on its trail. Will barghests do the same?"

"I do not know."

"Could you go and ask Avariel if she knows?" he asked. Cas sighed, and gave him that 'do I really have to?' look. "Please?"

"Very well." Cas disappeared once more.

"So, what cover are you going for?" Sam asked him. "CDC? FBI?"

"Animal control," Dean replied. "Seems there's a pack of wild, rabid dogs or coyotes heading this way."

Sam nodded. "What are you going to do about Cas? You know he doesn't have ID for that."

"Then I'll make him one." He grabbed his carryall from the bed, and took out a craft knife and a tube of glue. Then from his coat pocket he took out an empty ID wallet and a small ID-sized photograph.

"Dean," Sam said, staring at the photograph whilst looking both amused and puzzled, "why do you carry a picture of Cas in your pocket?"

"Oh. I, uh, had to make him an ID for a job we were doing, back when you and I were having our Ross and Rachel 'break' period. You're Rachel, by the way." He scoffed at Sam's expression. "Don't look at me like that. The photo booth gives you four pictures whether you want them or not. I figured the ones I didn't use might come in handy sometime. It's called forward-planning."

A breeze blew through the room, and Castiel returned.

"The grigori says she is 'fairly certain' that a barghest will relentlessly pursue its prey if it catches a scent of its blood."

"She?" Sam asked, clearly suppressing a smile.

"A slip of the tongue. I meant 'it', of course." The angel tilted his head, to look down at the ID Dean was creating. "Is that one of my pictures from—"

"Yes," Dean said, wishing Cas would just shut up. "We've just been over this." He pressed down on the ID, bonding the glue in place. "You are now Officer Steven Parry, from Colorado Animal Control."

"I see."

"Good." He stood up and clapped the angel on the shoulder. "C'mon, Officer Parry. We've got a police chief to talk to. Sam, we'll meet you back here in one hour."

o - o - o - o - o

There were voices from downstairs in the panic room. Bobby put down his glass of whisky and wheeled himself down the ramp to the cellar and opened the locks on the heavy iron door. When he entered the room, he found Avariel sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, her silver eyes open and her hands resting on her knees; the picture of innocence. It didn't fool him, of course.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"Castiel," she replied. "He came back to ask a question about the barghests."

"Right. You didn't antagonise him again, did you?"

"I merely answered his question. He seemed to be in a rush, and I deemed antagonism to be... inappropriate, at this moment in time. Besides, he didn't present any opportunity for it."

"Why bother provoking him at all?"

Avariel shrugged. "I am still trying to work out what all of this means. What I am now, and where I fit in with people on Earth. Antagonism seemed to be the fastest way to learn. Besides, playing happy families would not work; none of my brothers will ever trust me, until I can earn that trust, at least."

"Uh-huh," he said, humouring her. He could tell there was a lot she wasn't saying, but it wasn't as if she was going anywhere. Besides, he suspected Sam was on the right page. He'd heard the youngest Winchester talking to the angel the other day, and by simply being curious and genuine, he had gotten her to open up and talk about her rebellion. It wasn't until Dean and Castiel had come along, with their suspicious tones and threats, that she had started to clam up. And he also remembered what she had said, about the other angels excluding her kind from their affairs because of past transgressions. He suspected she was lonely, especially now that her rebellion had been crushed and she had been banished to Earth. Perhaps it was an angle he could work. Something to make him feel a little less useless, whilst the boys were out saving the world. Again.

"What are you doing right now?" he asked.

"Channel-surfing, you might call it," she said. Just then, he noticed that every few seconds, her eyes flickered, a dark shadow passing over them for the briefest of moments before they shone silver once more. "I don't like to stick with one channel too long."

"Is that position, on the floor, comfortable for you?"

"For now," she shrugged. Then, a smile played across her lips, and he suspected it was the first genuine smile he had seen from her. "I learnt meditation techniques from Buddhist monks, several hundred years ago, but this is the first time I've been able to practice it myself. It's very peaceful. I once spent two hundred years watching an oak grow from an acorn into a tree even taller than this house. That was quite peaceful, too."

He shook his head in amazement, and realised once more just how old angels actually were. Two hundred years watching a tree? It wasn't easy to reconcile the ancient celestial spirit with the fresh young face of the girl she inhabited. In all the chaos of the past few days, he hadn't even considered that somewhere, behind those silver eyes, there was a human girl. A girl who probably had a family and friends who missed her.

"Does your vessel have a name?" he asked, curious about how much of the human was actually present in there.

"Kathryn Wallace. But everybody calls her Katie."

"Will you tell me about her?"

Avariel must have been surprised by the request, because her eyes faded, revealing the cornflower blue beneath the silver, and one of her eyebrows rose a little higher. Then she stood up, and smoothed the blood-stiffened dress down as best she could.

"You wish to hear about my vessel? Truly?"

"Yeah," he said. "Tell me all about her."

"Katie Wallace is twenty years old. She grew up in Wyoming, born and raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the local town, where she has many friends. Her parents are named Simon and Melissa, and she has two siblings; Jonathan is twelve, and Shona is fifteen. When she finished high school, she decided that she wanted to become a veterinarian." Avariel smile fondly. "I think it was that which marked her as my vessel. She attends college four days a week, and works part time at an animal shelter. She loves looking after the animals there, and can't wait until she qualifies so she can set up her own practice. Every Sunday, she and her family attend church; they are very devout, as most vessels are. Katie loves children, too. She stays behind after church as a volunteer teaching assistant in the Sunday School. She leads a good life; she does not drink or gamble or lie. In her spare time, she enjoys listening to Christian folk and Christian rock songs, and until very recently, her greatest fear was that God would consider the fact that she kissed Donny Sutherland at last year's barn dance to be a sin."

"And she was just okay with you setting up shop in her body and potentially ruining her future?"

"Yes. As I said, she is very devout. She knows that we have important work to do."

"So... how did you come to find her, and take possession of her body? You angels need permission, right?"

"That's right. Would you like to hear the story?"

Bobby looked at her for a moment. He couldn't decide whether it was the angel speaking, or the girl, or an amalgamation of the two. Dean and Sam had told him that there was a marked difference between Castiel and his vessel, Jimmy, but Bobby didn't know this girl. She was doing a much better job at blending in as human than Castiel managed—hell, she even knew what Star Wars was—but he didn't want to fool himself. It was very likely the girl was a prisoner in her own mind, with only her faith to keep her company.

"Yes. I would like to hear it," he said.

"Katie, your mom and I have to nip out to the shop. Would you mind watering the horses? Jon can give you a hand."

"No problem, dad." Katie smiled up at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Her college books were spread across the top of it, books about the anatomy and physiology of common mammalian pets. The tomes were littered with Latin phrases, names of muscle groups, names of bones, all sorts of medical terminology. It was almost like another language, and Katie loved it. Every word sounded important and official. Every word made her feel that little bit more grown up, that little bit closer to finishing her studies.

"We'll be back in an hour or two," her father said, bestowing a fond smile upon her. He shared her love for animals, and had encouraged her to pursue her dreams when she was just a six year old kid running around with a toy stethoscope, trying to listen to the heartbeat of Kip, the family sheep-dog.

"Bye sweetie," mother called from the hallway. "Please remember to turn off the tap outside when you're done."

Mom and dad left. The door closed behind them. The key turned in the ignition of the pickup truck, and the engine turned over. The sound of the car being driven gradually grew quieter. Katie put down her pen and marked her place in her textbook with her favourite bookmark; a brass marker, which held upon it the image of a dove wrought in luminescent mother of pearl.

She went to the bottom of the stairs, and called up to her brother. "Jon, I need you to help with the horses."

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," he called back.

She smiled to herself. It wouldn't be a minute. He was reading A Tale of Two Cities, and hadn't managed to put the book down in two days. The book had once been Katie's. She had given it to her brother because she loved the story so much, and she knew he would too. She had been right.

The house was otherwise quiet. Shona was staying at a friend's house over the weekend. Sometimes, Katie worried about Shona. She knew that her sister was getting more interested in boys, and she rarely paid attention in church anymore, choosing instead to pass the time sending text messages to her friends from school. Katie just hoped her headstrong little sister wouldn't do anything stupid.

She left the house by the back door, and walked over to the stable, which was built inside a paddock. Nipper, the skewbald gelding, whinnied when he saw her approach, but Kelpie, the bad-tempered mare, ignored her entirely. Katie didn't mind. Kelpie had always been that way; her former owners had not treated her well. A rescue animal, she had always been shy and suspicious.

"How's it going, guys?" she asked them. Nipper ambled over, to snuffle at her pockets. When he realised she had no treats, he turned once more to cropping the grass. Katie checked their water trough, and found it almost empty. It would take four or five buckets to fill it enough for the day.

She returned to the side of the house and put the large plastic bucket beneath the outside faucet. She turned the tap. Water began to pour out. It was a soothing sound, like the sound of a river on a summer's day. It made her smile. She loved the scent of the grass, the musical gushing of water, the taste of summer on the air.

Everything went black. Then everything went white. Up became down, and down became up. There was a sound, a terrible, mind-shattering mess of noise. Desperate, she opened her eyes and saw green, and smelt grass and earth. Then she realised why up was down, and down was up; she was lying on her front, having collapsed onto the ground. Miraculously, the sound began to fade, and she found herself able to think once more.

What was happening? Had she had a fit? A stroke? Never before had she experienced health problems, beyond a bout of the chicken pox as a child. Terrified, she tried to call out to Jon. If he came down to help with the horses, he would find her. He would call an ambulance, and she might be saved. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"KATHRYN WALLACE," somebody said to her. She tried to close her eyes, to shut out the voice, which, although not as loud as the noise, was still almost more than she could bear. "DO NOT BE AFRAID, KATHRYN WALLACE. I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD. YOU ARE SAFE IN MY PRESENCE. ARISE FROM THE GROUND, CHILD."

There was no way she could disobey the voice. She didn't know whether she was dead, dying, fitting or dreaming, but there was something in the voice which compelled her to obey. It was a voice without sound, a voice only of words, and yet it was the most beautiful and terrifying thing she had ever heard before in her life.

She managed to roll fully onto her stomach, and pushed herself up onto all fours. From there, she made it to her knees, and then finally staggered upright to her feet. Squinting in pain, she tried to look around, for the source of the voice. In the field, the horses were cropping the grass, showing no signs of fear or concern. Even Kelpie, who shied at her own shadow, seemed content.

"How... how do you know my name?" she asked the air in general.

"I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU, KATHRYN WALLACE. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN."

"Chosen for what?" She was terrified of what the answer might be, but she had to know. Around her, the green grass looked even greener than normal. The light seemed brighter, and more warming. The blue sky was a brilliant shade of azure.

"MY NAME IS AVARIEL. I HAVE COME TO THE EARTH TO DO THE LORD'S WORK, BUT I CANNOT ACT HERE ON MY OWN. I REQUIRE A VESSEL. A HUMAN, THE PURE SOUL OF A DEVOUT BELIEVER, THAT I CAN SHARE TO CARRY OUT MY WORK. YOU ARE MY VESSEL, KATHRYN WALLACE. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP ME TO CARRY OUT THE WILL OF GOD."

"You want me to help you do God's work?" she asked, in shock and disbelief. She believed in God, of course she did, and she believed in angels too. But she was just a girl from the farm. She wasn't anything special.

"YES. IT MUST BE YOU."

"What sort of work would we be doing?" she asked.

"SAVING LIVES, MOSTLY. THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WILL CHANGE. YOU WILL LEARN THAT THE MONSTERS UNDER YOUR BED ARE INDEED REAL. YOU WILL LEARN THAT NOT EVEN ANGELS CAN SAVE EVERYBODY. YOU WILL LEARN REGRETTABLE TRUTHS, BUT I WILL NEVER LIE TO YOU."

"What about my family? My school work? The shelter?"

"YOU MUST LEAVE THEM BEHIND."

"What?! But I've never been without my family before!"

"I WILL BE YOUR FAMILY, IF YOU WILL HAVE ME."

"Can I talk to them about it first?" she asked.

"I AM SORRY, CHILD, BUT AS WE SPEAK, A BATTLE IS BEING FOUGHT. THE FATE OF THE EARTH HANGS IN A BALANCE, AND WE ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN ENSURE THE BALANCE TIPS IN THE FAVOUR OF GOD, AND NOT THE DEVIL."

"You want me to fight the devil?" she whimpered, her stomach and her legs feeling like jelly.

"NO. NOT YOU. OTHERS WILL HANDLE THAT BATTLE. BUT WE HAVE PEOPLE TO SAVE, BEFORE THEN. WE MUST PROTECT OUR CHAMPIONS."

"I don't know. I mean... I want to do God's work, I really do, but I'm afraid."

"YOUR FEAR IS UNDERSTANDABLE. IF YOU COME WITH ME, THEN IN TIME, YOU WILL LEARN THAT YOUR FEAR IS UNNECESSARY. I WILL BE WITH YOU, ALWAYS, AND YOU SHALL BE WITH ME. I WILL PROTECT YOU AS BEST I CAN."

"Can I at least say goodbye to my family?" she asked, and a single tear spilled down from her eye, rolling down her cheek.

"I AM SORRY, CHILD. TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. I FEAR I HAVE ALREADY COME TOO LATE. I AM SORRY TO PUT THIS DECISION ON YOU SO SWIFTLY. I CANNOT, AND WOULD NOT, FORCE THIS CHOICE ON TO YOU. I CAN GIVE YOU THIRTY MORE SECONDS TO MAKE UP YOUR MIND. AFTER THAT, YOU WILL NOT HEAR FROM ME AGAIN."

Katie took a deep breath, and wiped away the tear from her cheek. To give up everything she had, on the word of a stranger inside her head, was almost preposterous. But wasn't that why they called it 'a leap of faith'? Could she sit in church and claim to be faithful, yet decline one of God's angels in his hour of need? What would God think of such an action? Would he consider it to be a sin? And how could she live with herself, if this battle that Avariel spoke of went the wrong way, all because she refused to help him? She was no fool; she knew what it meant, if angels were battling the forces of the devil. If the angels lost—could they even lose such a battle?—what would become of her family, of her brother and sister, of the farm and the horses, of the church and the children who went to Sunday school every week? It was a risk she could not take. It was not something she could live with.

"I will come with you, Avariel," she said. "I will be your vessel."

A warmth flooded her body. It was the most amazing sensation she had ever felt. In that moment, she experienced the love of the angel, she felt how much it cared for her, like a parent caring for its child. So strong was the power that it almost overwhelmed her. Then, she realised she had work to do. Two men and an angel needed saving. She teleported.

The fields around the house were devoid of human life. In the paddock, the horses calmly grazed the grass. And the water bucket began to overflow, as water poured out of the untended tap.

Bobby was stunned to silence. The picture she painted was so vivid that he could actually see himself there, watching it all as a silent witness. At last, however, he found his tongue.

"So you just showed up, gave her a five-minute ultimatum, and took her away from her family without even letting her say goodbye?"

"It was not a matter of what I wanted, but what I needed," the angel replied. "Had I given her even a minute longer, Sam would have been dead, and Dean and Castiel would have been forever beyond my reach. Of course I regret the action I had to take, but I acted out of desperation, not malice. And it's not as if Castiel gave me time to return to Katie's family, before whisking me here."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm glad you were there to save the boys. Do you maybe want me to send a letter to your family, explaining that you're safe?"

"Thank you, but that has been taken care of," she said calmly.

"What do you mean?"

"I appeared to them in their dreams, and told them I was doing God's work. That an angel was watching over me, protecting me, and that they didn't have to worry. And other various clichéd pleasantries, of course."

"And you think they'll just believe you?"

"Well, I gave them all the same dream. So they'll either believe me, or believe they're suffering from a mass hallucination."

He shook his head sadly. "Y'know, you angels can be damn cold at times."

"Yes, I am aware of that," she replied. "It's not our fault. It's just how our Father created us. For what it's worth, I'm working on it."

"I don't even want to know what that means," he said. No doubt he'd find out when Dean freed her. If he freed her. "Listen, do you need anything in there? Food? Water? A cushion?"

"I have no physical needs which require attention right now," she assured him. "I require no sustenance, nor comfort, nor sleep."

"Good for you," he said sarcastically. Of course, he was by now familiar enough with angels that he knew they needed no physical comforts and no source of nourishment, but he'd hoped to appeal to the girl within her. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'll leave you to your channel surfing, and get back to worrying about those idjit boys."

"Bobby," she said, as he was preparing to leave. "Thank you, for being concerned about my vessel. Not many people would see that I am more than just an angel. But you did. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

He rolled his chair back upstairs, his mind full of thoughts. He'd actually managed to make some progress with Avariel, assuming he could actually believe a word she said. He did believe, at least some of the things, but he still didn't trust her fully. For all he knew, she'd sent the boys off on some wild goose chase, and was potentially working with the arch-angels to find Dean. For now he would err on the side of caution, and hope that the boys, and their angel friend, knew what they were doing.

o - o - o - o - o

Dean led the way down the street, taking in the view as he walked. Yellow Creek seemed to be one of those nice little towns where everybody knew each other and looked out for each other. Anonymity was a hard thing to find, in a place like this, which made investigating the supernatural a little easier, because the people tended to know about the skeletons in each others' closets, but at the same time it made investigations more difficult too, because in small communities, the skeleton in one closest was everybody's problem.

He'd been given directions to the police station, and Castiel was following complacently behind. Dean had no idea what the angel's vessel had done for work before letting Cas move in, but at least the long tan-coloured trench coat over the suit was good for occasions like this. Dean had forgotten to bring his own suit, but since he was going to be passing as an Animal Control officer, it didn't particularly matter.

"How do you intend to convince the Sheriff that the entire town needs to be evacuated in less than two hours?" Castiel asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said. Why did everybody seem to think that he had some sort of plan? He had no plan. He had his gun, and his boyish charm, and those were normally enough to get by on. When they weren't, he threw some stubborn bravado into the mix, and usually came out of it unscathed... for the most part.

Now, things were different. Plans had never been his strong point, but he had tried to make them, in the past. But that was when he'd been up against things he actually had a hair's chance of beating. Ghosts, vampires, wendigo, Azazel, zombies, Lilith... Looking back, he could appreciate the simplicity in planning against those things. Now, he was up against Lucifer, trapped in the middle of a war between two brothers who would probably torch the Earth just to get their own way. How could you make plans against that? What was the point of even trying?

The police office loomed into view, and Dean made a beeline for it. He had a love-hate relationship with law enforcement. He understood their necessity; they kept the peace and helped the folks who had nothing more to worry about than theft or domestic violence of the non-demonic kind. But they were also a pain in the ass to deal with if you happened to be a monster hunter by trade. The job required you to do things which normal people found offensive. Digging up graves, burning bodies, killing things that could wear a human face, not to mention all the standard white-collar crimes like fraud and impersonating a government official.

He climbed up the wooden steps to the building and opened the door. There was a deputy on duty at the front desk, a fresh-faced kid still naïve enough to be wearing his hat indoors. The boy looked up from the desk when the door opened, and Dean reached into his pocket for his ID.

"Officer James Grant, Colorado Animal Control," he said, flashing the ID for the deputy to see. "This is my partner, Officer Steven Parry." Miraculously, Castiel held up his ID the right way around. "We'd like to speak to your chief. It's important."

"Ahh, yes, of course Officers. I'll take you right through." The boy stood up and gestured for them to follow him past the desk, and to a door which held a brass 'Police Chief' plaque. Judging by the size of the building, the chief and the deputy were probably the only police in the town. He guessed Yellow Creek didn't have a big problem with crime.

The deputy knocked on the door, and opened it to stick his head through.

"Chief Waters, I have two men from Colorado Animal Control here to see you," he said.

"Show them in, Deputy."

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. The voice belonged to a woman, though there was nothing wrong with that of course. Women made fine law enforcement officers... he just didn't see very many of them. Too hard to juggle family life with the job role, he guessed.

The Deputy stepped aside allowing Dean and Cas to enter the room before leaving and closing the door behind them. The chief was not what he had been expecting. For a start, she was attractive. Very attractive. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and her uniform hugged her figure closely. The woman really knew how to make the look work for her.

"Chief Claire Waters," she said, standing and offering both men her hand. Dean shook it and gave her a warm smile, whilst Castiel merely shook it and stared in silence. Dean really needed to work on the angel's people skills.

"Officers Grant and Parry, Colorado Animal Control," Dean said.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

For a moment, Dean forgot how to speak. The Chief's brown eyes just... sucked him in. God, she was a beautiful woman. And it was only when Castiel nudged him under the desk with his foot that he remembered he was here to avert a catastrophe.

"Chief Waters," he said, "we have been tracking a pack of rabid wild dogs for the past few days, and I'm afraid to say that it appears they're on their way here. They seem to be drawn to populated areas, possibly because of how easy it is to find food lying around. We're concerned that the dogs might attack anybody they see."

"Well then, it's a good job Animal Control officers are here to put a stop to them, isn't it?" she said with a smile. Dean repressed the urge to groan. She was going to be one of those women. He could tell.

"Yes it is," he agreed, keeping the smile on his face. "But in order to stop them, we're going to need to either evacuate the town, or ask people to stay in their homes for the day. We can't risk anybody being attacked."

"Evacuate the town? Don't you think that's an overreaction? They're just dogs."

"Rabid wild dogs," he corrected.

Waters leant back in her chair, and ran her eyes over both men. This was not a good sign. Dean tried to look as official and not-guilty as he possibly could.

"Are you sure it's rabies they have?" she asked at last.

"Pretty sure, yeah. Why?"

"Because dogs with rabies rarely survive for more than a few days. And when they turn violent, they don't keep their social tendencies. They attack anything and everything around them... including other dogs."

Dean closed his eyes briefly, and tried to think of a way out of this. It was just his damn luck that he had to deal with an actual intelligent officer.

"Look," he said, meeting her eyes once more, "we're not a hundred percent sure that they're rabid, but we don't want to take any chances. They've already ripped up a flock of sheep a couple of towns over, and they don't show any fear of coming into human settlements. How'd you know so much about rabies, anyway?"

"My first husband was a vet," she said. "Look, officers, I'm not going to evacuate the town. Not unless the devil himself is sitting on our doorstep."

You have no idea, Dean thought to himself. This conversation was not going the way he had hoped, but he could hardly blame the Chief. She didn't know that monsters were real, and he couldn't tell her that what was approaching the village was not a pack of rabid dogs, but a pack of demonic hellhound rejects. The only way she would believe him was if she saw them for herself. Unfortunately, 'normal' people had a habit of reacting badly when they discovered that monsters were real, and right now, he needed the woman to be clear-thinking, not a gibbering wreck.

"Look," Waters continued, "I know you guys are just here to do your job, and I'm not trying to make it any harder for you. Tell you what, Pete and I will do the rounds, ask people to keep themselves and their kids indoors for a few hours, ask shopkeepers to close until after lunch, and try to keep folks off the street. I can round up a dozen local men who are more than handy with a rifle, and if we see rabid dogs, we'll shoot to kill. But I can't ask the entire town to put their lives on hold for this."

"Yeah," he said, "that sounds like a good plan. Thanks, Chief. My partner and I are going to head out to see what the dogs are up to, maybe look at setting a few traps for them, but if you could organise all of that, we'd really appreciate it."

"Just... try to keep things calm, alright? I don't need a mass panic on my hands."

"Will do."

She glanced at Cas. "Your partner is awfully quiet."

"I'm new," Cas said, which seemed to satisfy the Sheriff.

"By the way, Chief Waters," Dean said, as something sprang to mind, "I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour."

"Ask away, but I make no promises."

"Our vehicle's blown a head gasket, and I don't have time to get it fixed right now. Is there any chance we could borrow one of your cars?"

"As long as I get it back in one piece," she agreed. "Tell Pete to give you the key for the jeep."

"Thanks for your help."

He stood up and shook her hand again, and prompted Cas to do the same.

"Good luck, officers," she said.

At the front desk, Deputy Pete Jones had gone back to completing paperwork. This time, he didn't glance up when he heard Dean and Cas approach.

"So, you need the keys for the jeep, huh?" he said. Then he looked at Dean and smiled. "Thin walls in here. Is there really a pack of wild dogs on its way to town?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, holding his hand out for the keys.

Pete reached into his desk drawer, took out a key on a keyring, and dropped it into Dean's hand. "I hope you manage to stop them before they get here. Of course, the Chief and I will do all we can. You don't have to worry about the town, we have a lot of good hunters call this place home."

"That's very reassuring."

"The jeep's in the lot out back. Just bring the key back when you're done with her, okay?"

"Roger that," he said, with a mock salute for the kid.

The jeep was not hard to find, because it was the only one in the car park. Green and white, fitted with high-intensity lights, it looked to have seen recent action; the wheels and the bottom of the chassis were covered in mud that hadn't quite dried yet. Dean patted the vehicle, opened the driver's side door, and climbed in.

"Dean," said Castiel, a confused expression on his face, "I do not understand. Why did you encourage the police chief to ask some of the townsfolk to participate in this hunt? They will not understand what they see; the barghests do not look like normal dogs."

"Ah, she was going to do it anyway whether I wanted her to or not." He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. God, how he loved that sound. Nothing compared to the roar of the Impala's engine, of course, but his baby was sitting outside Bobby's house right now. The jeep would have to suffice.

"So... we are going to allow the barghest pack into the town, where they can be shot from many angles?"

He shook his head. "No, fighting in the town was Plan A, and I'd rather not let it get that far. Now, we go on to Plan B."

"And what is Plan B?"

"I'm working on it. But first I need to check in with Sam, see what he's got for us. Let's get back to the motel."

o - o - o - o - o

Sam glanced at his watch as he walked down the main street of the town. He was starting to see more and more cars out on the road, and a dozen shops were now open for business. Good news for a hungry hunter looking for local intel, bad news for a hunter wanting to keep everybody indoors and alive during the next twelve hours.

The townspeople were all friendly and helpful. They answered his questions openly and volunteered information they thought might be of use. He suspected they thought he was a game hunter, come early to the town to scope out the land and get a head start on the other hunters. He didn't try to dissuade them from that notion. The less they truly knew, the better off they would be. Unfortunately, Sam didn't always have the luxury of leaving people ignorant. Sometimes he was forced to show them his world, and when that happened, things tended to get messy.

That was one of the reasons why he was doomed to be alone, except for his brother, and other hunters like Bobby, and their allies like Castiel. Hunters could only share their lives with other hunters. To bring civilians into it, to expose them to that danger... it was just too big a risk. Too many people had already been injured or killed because Sam had selfishly thought he could have some semblance of a normal life.

His mother had been the first to die, but that was not his fault, nor his father's. The blame lay solely with the yellow-eyed demon... no, the yellow-eyed fallen angel, he reminded himself... Azazel. And, by extension, Azazel's master; Lucifer. For years, seeking revenge against the demons who had toyed with his life had been the only thing he lived for. After Jessica's death, he had rejoined Dean on the hunt for both their father and the demon they had known only as Yellow-Eyes, and whilst for Dean finding dad had been the priority, it was the other way around for Sam. His father was the means to an end, a way of finding the demonic son of a bitch, a way of enabling revenge.

Lilith had been the next demon on the vengeance list. The oldest demon of them all, the first human soul to be corrupted and turned by Lucifer. She had been immensely powerful, and Sam had killed her whilst hopped up on demon blood. But her death had not been the victory he had hoped for. Unbeknownst to him, Lilith was the last Seal on Lucifer's prison. Killing her had opened the gate, allowing the devil to walk the Earth once more. Dean had tried to stop him. Castiel had died to buy the eldest Winchester more time. And Sam had ignored them both, choosing instead to follow Ruby, who had ultimately betrayed them all.

He knew he was out of chances. There were only so many times a man could redeem himself, and Sam was no ordinary man. He was the one who had freed Lucifer from his millennia-long prison. He had chosen a demon over his own brother, thrown Bobby's help back in his face, and ignored Castiel's attempts to put him back on the right path. Now, he could afford no more mistakes. He could not ever say 'yes' to being Lucifer's vessel, because there would be no coming back from that.

He set off back to the motel, a bag of supplies in hand. Time was swiftly running out. It was strange, but there were periods when he had an abundance of time, with nothing to do except sit in the Impala with Dean and drive from place to place. It contrasted sharply with the periods when he had no time at all, when every second counted and lives depended upon working against a clock. It was a shame that he couldn't shift some of the wasted time to moments when it was most required, and not for the first time did he wonder why angels didn't exploit time-travel more often. Why didn't they just go back in time and stop Lucifer and the other grigori from falling? Why didn't they go back and stop the devil from corrupting Lilith, thereby creating demons? It wasn't as if they lacked the power; Castiel had once sent Dean back to the moment when Azazel had first met their mother, and more recently he had taken both Sam and Dean back to 1978, so they could thwart the plans of the fallen angel Anna. When asked, Cas merely said that there were rules against changing the course of history, but he wouldn't go into any detail about what those rules actually were. He simply said that what was done, was done, and changing things could have terrible repercussions. How those repercussions could be more terrible than the apocalypse, Sam did not know.

A police jeep was parked outside the motel, and Sam gave a mental groan. This could not be a good sign. Dean had no respect for authority figures, and if he had already gotten into trouble, it did not bode well for the mission. He hurried to the door and knocked on it, since Dean had the key with him.

When Dean opened the door, he was surprised to find his brother alone, other than Castiel. Stepping inside the room, he briefly scanned around for signs of a pissed-off police officer, but found none.

"Why's there a police car parked out front?" he asked his brother.

"Oh, that. It's ours for the moment. I've borrowed it."

"Borrowed?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean pulled a key from his pocket, and jingled it on the ring. "Legitimately. Police Chief Barbie agreed to lend it for a few hours. I'm just glad it's not pink."

"Dean," said Castiel, "the Chief's name was Waters, not Barbie."

Dean gave Sam a long-suffering look, and closed the door behind him. "What have you got, Sammy?"

"A proper breakfast, for a start," he replied, taking out a packet of chips and tossing them to his brother. Dean grinned and opened them up. "And this. Courtesy of the local camping store." He took a map out of the bag and removed the bindings, opening it up and lying it flat on the coffee table.

"Great," Dean said, clapping his hands and taking a seat. "What are our defences looking like?"

"Not good," Sam replied. "The whole town's surrounded by forest on three sides." He gestured at the green areas of the map; they were quite extensive. "The buildings are pretty spread out. We've got an elementary school over on the east side, a doctor's surgery on the west, and most of the stores in the centre. Houses are pretty much all around, which means wherever the barghest come from, they're going to hit residential areas first."

Dean nodded. "The Chief and her Deputy are going to muster themselves a posse of local marksmen, and advise everybody to stay indoors for a few hours, but something tells me they're not going to be in a rush to do it. These people aren't going to be in any position to fight, and we have less than two hours to go."

"Sam," said Castiel, approaching and looking at the map, "you said the town is surrounded by forest on three sides. What is on the other side?"

"Over here, to the west," he replied, "is a deep gorge. A bridge spans it, but it's only wide enough for one car to pass at a time."

"Is there a river at the bottom of this gorge?"

"Yeah. Not a wide one, though. Barely more than a fast-flowing stream, really." Castiel's eyes took on a thoughtful cast, which immediately made Sam curious. "Why do you ask?"

"Avariel told me that the barghest will not cross flowing water unless forced into it. We could use this to our advantage. If the townspeople can be convinced to evacuate, we could take them across the river. They should be safe, there."

"Cas, does that mean the barghest won't even cross a bridge that spans a river? Maybe it just means they won't go into the river itself."

"I do not know. But it is the best chance we have."

"Maybe," said Dean. Sam looked at his brother, who was studying the map. "Look at this road. It forks about a mile out of town. One road leads here, and the other goes north." Dean ran his finger along the coloured line which indicated the road. "It travels north for almost three miles, then cuts west, where it crosses a second bridge further upstream."

"Yeah," Sam said, "but there's no town upstream. Nothing to entice a pack of hungry barghest."

"Nothing yet," Dean said. He was smiling, now, the same smile he always wore when he had some crazy, suicidal plan. "But I'm willing to bet that a bleeding target will get their attention pretty quick."

"Dean, no," he said, realising what his brother was planning. "That is a terrible idea."

"Which is what makes it so great. Minimum risk to the town. Do you have something better?"

Sam shook his head. He should have seen this coming. Dean had obviously been considering it since he had sent Cas back to ask Avariel about the barghest reaction to blood.

"You intend to draw the barghest away from the town by setting them on your own trail?" Castiel asked, catching up to the rest of the group.

"Why not? We got a car, we got a river, and I got plenty of blood. If I can get them to that bridge upstream, and they can't cross it, the two of you can be lying in wait and we can pin them in place. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Dangerous, relentless blood-thirsty fish with teeth," Sam reminded him. Dean waved on hand dismissively.

"Dean," said Cas, "I believe this plan could work. Avariel must have seen the river, and known that we could use it to our advantage."

"Oh, so now he trusts her," Dean said rolling his eyes.

"I do not trust the grigori, but I do trust you. If you wish to carry out this plan, I will help you."

"Thanks for the support, Cas. Well, Sam? What's it going to be?"

Sam sighed. One day, one of these crazy plans was going to be the death of Dean. Again. But for now, he had to admit that he had nothing better.

"Alright," he said. "I'm in. But I get to use the flame-thrower."

o - o - o - o - o

Dean stood at the fork in the road, his belt-knife held in one hand. He wasn't entirely comfortable with being here, and it had nothing to do with the pack of crazed hell-beasts swiftly bearing down on his position. It had more to do with the fact that he had come to loathe crossroads. They were places where deals with demons were made, and whilst this fork wasn't, strictly speaking, a crossroads, it was close enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He had sold his own soul at a crossroads, over two years ago now, and since then his life had not been his own. It was the life of somebody who had been plucked from Hell, put back on the Earth, and told he was doing the work of God. The life of somebody who was nothing but a puppet on strings to the higher powers. Castiel should have left him to rot in the Pit.

A gentle breeze blowing through the air heralded his friend's arrival, but Dean didn't turn around to look at the angel.

"Is Sam ready?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cas.

"You should get into position, too."

"When the time is right, I will be in my designated position," Castiel replied calmly. "For now, I will stay with you. Call it moral support, if you like."

Dean nodded absently. He was glad he wouldn't have to do this alone. Despite what he had told Sam, the thought of facing off against hellhounds again made his insides turn cold. It was hellhounds that had ended his life, ripping his body to shreds so his soul could be collected by demons. It was hellhounds who had torn up Jo, causing the beautiful young woman to die a slow and painful death. She'd been little more than a kid, with so much left to live for. Now, she would never get that chance. He just hoped that, wherever she was, she was happy.

"How long until the pack arrives?" he asked, swallowing down his fear, pushing it away.

"A few minutes at most," Castiel replied. "Dean, are you sure you do not want me to do this instead? I can bleed and you can drive. It's more than fair."

Dean smiled briefly. Cas was like the little kid who wasn't afraid of anything. Mostly, it was because he was a powerful celestial being who, up until recently, was able to smite demons at a touch, travel through time on a whim, and could put a grown man to sleep with nothing but a tap of his finger. It probably also helped that angels didn't feel emotions as easily as humans did. They were capable of it—he had seen first hand just how capable they were—but when they wanted, they could put emotion aside and ignore their doubts and their fears. Even faced with death, Castiel had shown no fear. So far, he was doing a lot better at being strong than Dean.

"Thanks for the offer," he replied. "But I'm not having those bastards going after anybody but me."

"Very well," Cas replied. Dean knew that Cas understood; hellhounds had killed Jo because she had tried to defend him. He wasn't going to watch another friend die for him. And he was grateful that Cas didn't try to talk about it. He wasn't quite ready to face his demons yet.

Taking a deep breath, he used the knife to cut into his arm, and blood immediately began to drip onto the ground. It would bleed, a lot, but he couldn't afford a cut to his hand; he needed his hands to drive, and to fire his gun when he finally stopped the car.

The blood worked quickly. For one minute, the drip drip drip of the red fluid on the ground was the only sound he could hear. Even the birds were silent. Then, there was crashing through the undergrowth which surrounded the road on both sides. Dark forms appeared from the trees, and for the first time, Dean wished the barghest were invisible. They were red-eyed black dogs, larger than Shetland ponies. Their claw-tipped paws were huge, and each hound was salivating as they watched his blood with malicious intent.

"Dean," Castiel said, "it's time to go."

"Come and get me, you bastards," Dean growled at the dogs. Then he turned and ran to the jeep, slamming the door closed behind him. Castiel followed, teleporting directly into the vehicle. In the rear view mirror, Dean saw the dogs surge forward, and he pushed his foot down hard on the gas pedal, flooring it as he released the hand-brake.

The engine screamed and the jeep shot forward, shuddering for a moment with the momentum. Thirty miles per hour, the speedometer read, and when he glanced in the mirror, he saw the dogs keeping pace. In fact, they weren't just keeping pace, they were gaining. Dean increased the jeep's speed to fifty. The bloody things were fast! He said as much to Cas.

"Yes, they are strong and fast, and do not tire," the angel reiterated. "They were pacing themselves to get to the village, travelling at a comfortable speed, but now that they have smelt blood, they will chase their prey in a frenzy of speed and violence until they kill it."

"Thanks for the visuals, Cas," he growled. He wasn't angry with his friend, but his arm was stinging, which irked him.

"I'm sorry," Cas replied. "I was doing that thing again, where I state the obvious, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, just a little."

"I will try to restrain myself in future."

"Great, thanks." He looked again in the mirror, but could see nothing. "Damn it. Where have those barghest gotten to? We haven't lost them, have we?"

"I don't think so," said Castiel. He was looking out of the side window, into the forest. "I see movement in the trees."

"What, they've caught up to us?"

"They are in fact over-taking us. I suggest you increase the speed of this vehicle."

"Alright, but it's a jeep, not a ferrari. I don't think we can expect miracles."

He increased the speed to seventy. No animal could travel this fast. But then again, the barghest were not ordinary animals. Descendents of Hell, they probably had all sorts of freaky abilities, and he suspected the ability to out-run a jeep was just one of them. He hoped to God that Avariel was right, and they could be killed with standard weapons, otherwise the three of them were royally screwed.

"Alright, Cas," he said, as the road began to veer left, "it's time for you to go. Get into position and be ready."

"I will see you soon, Dean," Cas said. "Do not slow down."

One gentle breeze later, and Cas was gone. Dean followed the angel's advice. He slowed down only to make a sharp left turn, then put the pedal to the metal once more. He would have given anything to be in his beloved Impala, right now. The jeep was cumbersome and slow, built for traversing difficult terrain, not for going fast on tarmac. But beggars could not be choosers, and the jeep was all he had. At least it would offer him some small physical protection, if the barghest caught up before he reached the river.

At last the bridge came into view. He felt as if it had taken him an eternity to get this far, though he had been driving for only a few minutes. All he had to do was make it across the bridge, and he would be home free. He just prayed that there was no car coming in the opposite direction. A head on collision was the last thing he needed right now.

The forest thinned as the road approached the bridge, and when he glanced in his mirrors he saw the barghest on the road once more. Suddenly, something rocked the jeep, and in his left wing-mirror he saw one of the beasts snapping at the wheel arches.

What the hell?

How could they know that to cripple the jeep, all they had to do was blow out the tires? They couldn't be that smart, could they? His heart began pounding in his chest, and he mentally urged the jeep to go faster. If he blew out a tire at this speed, he would probably die. But if he didn't get across the bridge, he would probably die. He knew, now, that he had underestimated the barghest. If they had managed to figure out that the tires were what kept the car moving, then they would have been able to figure out how to get into locked houses. The townsfolk, shut in their homes, would have been nothing but corralled sheep to these beasts.

The moment the car drove onto the narrow stone bridge, Dean gave a deep sigh of relief. The barghest had fallen back now, four of them watching in frustration from the start of the bridge. Where the other five were he did not know, but it seemed Avariel had been right. The barghest were not going to cross the path of flowing water. Now all he had to do was get the jeep to the other side, and get back to help Sam and Cas put these evil puppies down.

When he was safely across the gorge, he parked the jeep across the bridge exit, to prevent any innocent motorist straying onto the battlefield, and grabbed his rifle from the back seat. Even as he left the vehicle, he could hear the sounds of fighting. There were growls of anger and whines of pain. Every few seconds a plume of orange fire roared into the air, and the smell of burning flesh reached his nose. When he was halfway across the bridge, he finally got a view of what was happening. Sam had circled around the pack, and was using the flame-thrower Bobby had lent them to keep the dogs at bay. They seemed to fear the fire even more than they feared the angel who slashed at them with his celestial blade. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the barghest seemed almost at a loss. Three canine bodies already littered the floor, in pools of their own blood.

As soon as he was close enough, Dean lifted his rifle and began shooting at the dogs, taking care not to fire near his friend or his brother. One of the barghest fell to his shots, but then the beasts seemed to realise that he had returned. Every one of the remaining pack turned their faces to him, and they surged forwards. They ignored Castiel, who was standing between them and the bridge, flowing around him, out of reach of his blade. When the first barghest stepped onto the bridge, Dean realised how screwed his was. Apparently, crossing a path of flowing water to reach their bleeding prey was easier for them to do when they were driven to it by a man roasting them alive with a flame-thrower and an angel slashing at them with a celestial sword.

He began firing again as the barghest approached. He managed to take down one, but the remaining four simply increased their speed. His gun sounded with grim finality; blam blam blam, and still the dogs came. Several feat away from him, the lead hound leapt like a cat, sailing through the air towards him, its froth-covered jaws opened wide enough to crush his head.

The world spun very briefly, and suddenly he was no longer on the bridge, but back on the road, standing behind Sam. He felt a hand lifted from his shoulder, and turned to see Castiel beside him. Breathing rapidly, he gave the angel his most appreciative look, and took a long, slow steadying breath. The barghest realised that their prey was no longer in front of them. They turned and ran back, straight into the jaws of death. Sam took two out with the flame-thrower, Castiel stabbed one through the heart with his sword, and the other fell to Dean's rifle. When the last body stopped twitching, he finally relaxed, feeling the tension seep out of his muscles.

Together, the three comrades walked amongst the fallen beasts. There was no sign of life from any of them, but that didn't mean they would stay dead. Demonic things had a nasty habit of coming back when you least expected them. To make sure the dogs stayed down, they would have to dispose of the bodies thoroughly. Fortunately, they had just the tool for it. Once the corpses had been piled by the side of the road, Sam turned the flamethrower onto them, filling the air with the scent of charred meat. When the deed was done, they stood back to survey the smoldering pile.

"Those were some nasty sons of bitches," Dean offered at last.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I can't say I'm in a hurry to do that again."

"I hate to say it, but maybe Ava was right."

"Ava?"

"Avariel."

"So... now we're nick-naming the Angel you don't trust?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "It's just faster to say. But... what if she was telling the truth? What if she really does want to help us? If she saw this, imagine what else she could see. Right now, we're flying blind, just hoping that anything we do has an impact. She could tell us where to strike, not just to save lives, but to hurt Lucifer. Really hurt him, I mean."

"Dean," said Castiel, turning to face him, "I stand by what I told you when we first brought Avariel back to Bobby's. The grigori cannot be trusted. We should have nothing more to do with it. It will eventually betray us all. Please, do not be taken in by its appearance, or its claims that it wants to help. Nothing good can come from listening to it."

"What about this?" Sam said, gesturing at the burning pile of canine corpses. "We just saved a town. Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, but to us, it's four hundred lives. And that's on top of our lives, which she already saved by chasing off Zachariah."

Cas shook his head in defeat. "You see what the grigori wants you to see, Sam. My words of caution are wasted here, so I will offer no more. All I wish to do is stop you... both of you... from making a terrible mistake. If you will not listen, then there is nothing more I can do."

"We're not freeing her, Cas," Dean assured his friend. "I'm just saying... maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we kept her in that circle and let her believe that she can earn our trust. We can use her to help save people, and possibly learn more about Lucifer's actions."

"You should return the vehicle to the Police department," Cas said, turning away and looking at the jeep. "Our work here is done. I will meet you back at the motel."

Cas disappeared in a breeze of air, and Dean sighed. He knew that his friend wasn't pleased, but what else could he do? Avariel had saved their lives and said she wanted to help them. She had told them truths nobody else had, and warned them about the barghest in time to avert a tragedy. He didn't trust her, because Cas didn't trust her, but he had to admit that she might come in useful. How could he dispose of such a tool, if it could help him to stop Lucifer?

"Come on," he said to Sam. "Let's get out of here."

He turned towards the bridge, and trusted that his brother would follow. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Avariel again. Sooner or later, he would have to decide what to do with her. And whichever way he decided, somebody was going to be hurt.

- o -