When Sam first heard Mealla's voice from his office, he thought it was his imagination. She hadn't spoken to him in weeks, why start now?

"Sam, get in here," she called again.

Cautiously, Sam pushed open the door and received a shock.

The first thing he registered was the fire. The floor was on fire. Then he saw who stood within the flames, but still didn't understand. He'd prayed and screamed and threatened for months to no avail, so how the hell was Gabriel now standing in his office, having a stare-down with his wife.

"How did you…?" Sam began, looking from Mealla to Gabriel and back again.

"I found a ritual for summoning angels in one of your books," replied Mealla without taking her eyes off Gabriel.

Sam decided not to remark that he had been searching for the exact same thing for 17 years and been unsuccessful.

"So this holy oil," Mealla said as though continuing a conversation which Sam had interrupted, "you can't get out of it."

"Right," Gabriel agreed.

"Which makes you my bitch." There was something incredibly sexy about those words when they came out quirked by Mealla's strong Irish accent.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Huh. That's an interesting way to put it."

"So how about this: Bring Aeden back right now, or we'll leave you here. Forever."

"Sweetheart, your forever is nothing to me," said Gabriel with his familiar smirk. He raised his eyes to Sam. "You haven't taught her very well, Sammy boy."

"Okay…" Mealla leaned casually on the desk, her voice as light as though they were discussing the weather over coffee. "I soak you in this magic oil and deep-fry you until you bring him back." She reached for the silver flask on the desk next to her. "Does that sound fun?"

"Whoa, whoa, okay," Gabriel held up his hand and laughed nervously. "Hey, let's not be hasty here. I wish I could help you, really, I do." Mealla unscrewed the cap off the flask. "Hey! Just listen." Gabriel was eyeing the holy oil with something that might have been fear, and Sam knew there was not a doubt in the angel's mind that Mealla was not bluffing.

"I would love to help you. If it makes you feel better, I was against using the kid in the first place. If it was up to me, I would scoop your son up right now and plop him right back here."

"So why don't you!" cried Sam.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Because I can't, muttonhead. He's in a place now not even angels can enter."

"Where? Where did you send him?"

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" The question was directed not at Sam, but at Mealla.

She folded her arms. "I'll let you go when you bring our son back."

"Then we'll all be staring at each other for quite awhile," sighed Gabriel. He sat down cross-legged, carefully avoiding the flames. "Anyone got a deck of cards?"

Sam and Mealla waited.

"Look," said Gabriel, standing up again, "I said you'd get him back , you're both blowing this way out of proportion."

"Fine. See you next week." Mealla stalked out of the room and Sam followed without a second glance at the angel.

They kept the door shut and locked, but aside from the new off-limits agreement, nothing seemed to have changed between Sam and his wife.

A week later, they went together back into the office, but all that was left was a singed circle on the carpet.

"I thought you said holy oil burned forever," said Mealla.

"It does."

"So who let him out?"